dharme cārthe ca kāme ca mokṣe ca bharatarṣabha
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
"In the realm of dharma, artha, kama, and moksha, (ethics, economic development, pleasure, and liberation), whatever is found in this epic may be found elsewhere, but what is not found here will be impossible to find anywhere else."
Mahābhārata, Adi Parva 56.33)
2.31: Bhīṣma’s Instructions
Having heard that the Pāṇḍavas were returning, Hastināpura’s citizens had quickly decorated the city with colorful festoons and garlands. They then lined the streets and threw flowers and rice as the procession passed. Seeing the five brothers again, the people felt as if their consciousness had returned to their bodies. Everyone shed tears and called out in happiness.
As the procession made its way along the road, wealthy ladies threw down silk cloths and gems from the balconies of mansions. The ladies also called to Draupadī, who rode behind her brothers on a chariot covered with a silk canopy, “You are worthy of praise, O blessed princess, who waits by the side of these heroes like Gautami by the side of the seven celestial ṛṣis. Surely your religious acts and vows have borne fruit.”
Yudhiṣṭhira made his way toward the Kuru palace, where he was greeted by pleasing speeches made by leading citizens. “By good luck you have returned to us after defeating your enemies. O best of kings, having regained your kingdom by virtue and prowess, may you remain as our ruler for a century. Protect your subjects like Indra protects the gods.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s chariot then took him through the broad palace gates and into the compound. Brahmins chanted Vedic mantras to invoke auspiciousness as Yudhiṣṭhira stepped down from his car and went into the temple. He bowed before the Deities, worshipping them with gems, garlands and incense. When he emerged from the temple, he saw Brahmins waiting and carrying sacred articles. They uttered blessings and worshipped him as he made his way to the assembly hall.
Among the Brahmins was a Rākṣasa in disguise. His name was Charvaka, and he was Duryodhana’s old friend. Although he was dressed like a Brahmin, he reviled Yudhiṣṭhira. “O son of Kuntī, all these ascetics have made me their spokesman. They say, ‘Fie on Yudhiṣṭhira! He is a wicked king and he destroyed his kinsmen. It would be best if he now gave up his life.’”
Hearing Charvaka’s words, the Brahmins set up an angry uproar. They then fell silent in shame. None of them agreed with Charvaka, and they looked anxiously at Yudhiṣṭhira, who bowed his head and said, “O Brahmins, be pleased. It is exactly as you say. Do not cry fie upon me, for I will soon cast off my life.”
“These are not our words, O King. We have not said anything of the kind. All prosperity to you.”
Some of the leading sages looked carefully at Charvaka. By their spiritual vision they understood his identity. “This is the wicked Rākṣasa, Charvaka, Duryodhana’s friend.”
With their eyes red with anger, the sages held their sacred threads and uttered the Vedic syllable ‘Hun!’ Charvaka fell like a tree blasted to the roots by Indra’s thunderbolt.
Praised and reassured by the Brahmins, Yudhiṣṭhira entered the assembly hall with a cheerful mind and took his place on a golden throne. On two more golden seats facing him sat Kṛṣṇa and Sātyaki, while Bhīma and Arjuna sat at his sides. Kuntī sat on a white ivory throne with the twins by her side. Dhṛtarāṣṭra and other Kuru elders sat nearby on seats as effulgent as fire.
The hall filled with the sound of sacred chants and the ceremony began. Yudhiṣṭhira was anointed with holy water from golden vessels, as well as with milk, honey, yogurt, and ghee. After he had dressed in pure white silks and put on golden ornaments and bright garlands, he was seated by Dhaumya on a handsome seat spread with tiger skins. With Draupadī by his side, he made offerings into the sacrificial fire. When the ceremony was complete, Kṛṣṇa concluded the rituals by sprinkling sanctified water from a large white conch onto Yudhiṣṭhira’s crowned head.
Yudhiṣṭhira rose, king of the Kurus. Thousands of drums sounded and the hall was filled with cheers and shouts of approval. Yudhiṣṭhira distributed charity to the many Brahmins present, beginning with Dhaumya and the priests who had conducted the ceremony. He gave away heaps of gold and gems and was repeatedly blessed and eulogized.
After giving abundant charity, Yudhiṣṭhira took his place on the royal throne and began to speak. “Great indeed must be that man who receives such praise and worship from all these learned Brahmins. I do not feel worthy of such words. Surely we are your favorites, since you describe us as having accomplished so much. King Dhṛtarāṣṭra is, however, our father and our god. If you wish to please me, obey him and do what he desires. He is the master of the world, of you, and of me. Do not treat him differently than you did in the past.”
The noble Yudhiṣṭhira was concerned that Dhṛtarāṣṭra would now be disregarded or even ill-treated. Most people blamed him for the devastation. After making it clear that he would not accept such behavior toward the blind monarch, Yudhiṣṭhira appointed his ministers. Bhīma became Prince Regent, Arjuna commander of the army, and the twins as administrators of justice. Dhaumya was made head priest, and Sañjaya royal counselor. Yudhiṣṭhira then instructed Yuyutsu to care for Dhṛtarāṣṭra and carry out his commands as to any state administration he ordered in his role as ruler of Hastināpura.
Yudhiṣṭhira then arranged for the Brahmins to perform the śraddhā ceremonies for the departed, and ordered that the many widows be given adequate provisions. Yudhiṣṭhira also asked that houses for food distribution, as well as public baths and monuments, be constructed in the names of the slain warriors. Dhṛtarāṣṭra, on behalf of his departed relatives, distributed wealth to the Brahmins.
Bhīma was given the splendid palace which was formerly occupied by Duryodhana, and he entered it joyfully like a mighty mountain lion entering a cave. Dushashana’s more splendid palace was given to Arjuna, and he and Kṛṣṇa went there to rest after the ceremony. Nakula and Sahadeva were given the palaces of Durmarshana and Durmukha, respectively. All of the Pāṇḍavas were as pleased as the gods in heaven as they entered their new abodes.
* * *
The morning following the installation, Yudhiṣṭhira thought again of Bhīṣma. It was time to return to the battlefield. The Pāṇḍava king went to consult with Kṛṣṇa. When he entered Arjuna’s palace, he found Kṛṣṇa sitting on a large white sofa bedecked with gems. The dark-hued Kṛṣṇa, clad in yellow silk and adorned with celestial ornaments, resembled a sapphire set in pure gold. Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O foremost of intelligent persons, have You rested well? Are Your faculties fully invigorated? O divine Lord, by Your favor we have regained the world and have not transgressed the duties of our order. Please tell me what should now be done.”
Kṛṣṇa made no reply. He appeared to be in meditation. Surprised, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “Wonderful it is, O You of immeasurable power, that You are rapt in meditation. Seeing that You have withdrawn Yourself from the world and adopted the fourth state of absorption in the self, I am filled with wonder. As calm as a lamp in a windless place, You appear as immobile as rock, Your bodily hairs standing erect on Your body. If I am fit to understand the cause, O Govinda, be pleased to tell me.”
Returning to external consciousness, Kṛṣṇa replied, “That foremost of men, Bhīṣma, who now lies on a bed of arrows and is like a fire about to be extinguished, is thinking only of Me. Thus is My mind also concentrated on him. My mind is fixed in him, the twang of whose bow and the slaps of whose palms not even Indra could bear. I was thinking of him who carried away the three princesses of Kośala after defeating the world’s kings. I was rapt in thought of he who fought for twenty-three days with Paraśurāma, before the sage finally admitted his inability to overcome that best of his own disciples. Controlling his senses and concentrating his mind fully on Me, Gaṅgā’s son seeks My refuge. It was for this reason that I fixed My mind on him.”
Kṛṣṇa told Yudhiṣṭhira that Bhīṣma would soon depart and thus he and his brothers should leave at once to see him. “When that great man leaves, so all kinds of knowledge about morality and duty will leave with him. No one can deliver instructions comparable to his, not even Me.”
Suppressing his tears, Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “What You have said about Bhīṣma is true. I have heard of his greatness from the Brahmins. Now You, whose words are truth itself, have confirmed the same. If You are pleased to show us favor, O Madhava, then accompany us as we proceed to where Bhīṣma lays. When the sun turns toward the north some days from now, he will leave for the heavens by his own sweet will. Let him see You one more time before then, dear Kṛṣṇa. You are the shelter of the eternal Brahman and the final resting place of all beings.”
Kṛṣṇa turned toward Sātyaki sitting nearby. “Let My chariot be yoked. We will leave at once.”
Yudhiṣṭhira touched Kṛṣṇa’s feet, who then stood up and embraced the Pāṇḍava. He went out of the palace and immediately made arrangements to go to the battlefield. Mounting his chariot, he was driven along Hastināpura’s central highway, followed by his brothers and Kṛṣṇa, each mounted on their own chariots. They soon arrived at Kurukṣetra, witnessing again the awful scene of the eighteen-day war. The field was littered with the wreckage of weapons and chariots. Skulls as white as conches were lying everywhere. Animal bones lay in heaps. The field looked like an abandoned sporting ground used by the Destroyer.
Bhīṣma, however, was surrounded by ascetics. His body shone like the setting sun. Seeing him from a distance, the five Pāṇḍavas and Kṛṣṇa got down from their chariots and approached him on foot. They offered their obeisances to the ṛṣis and prayed for their blessings, then took seats around Bhīṣma, who lay perfectly still on his arrow bed.
Kṛṣṇa, tears running down His cheeks, said, “O hero, is your mind and understanding still as clear now as before? I hope you are not overwhelmed by pain or grief. Surely it is wonderful that you have been able to maintain your life in such a condition. I do not think anyone else in all the worlds could do it, nor have I heard of anyone as devoted to truth, penance, charity, sacrifice and virtue. None can equal you in prowess nor in Vedic or moral knowledge. O mighty-armed Bhīṣma, the Brahmins have described you as a Vasu, but I consider you more powerful than those gods. Indeed, you are equal to Vasava himself, the great king of the gods.”
Kṛṣṇa had told the Pāṇḍavas how Bhīṣma had formerly been Dyau, the leader of the Vasus. By Vasiṣṭha’s curse, whom the Vasus had offended, they had been obliged to take birth on earth. Although the ṛṣi had granted that they could soon return to heaven, he ordered that Dyau remain on earth for some time, as he was the Vasus’ leader. The Vasus were born as Gaṅgā’s sons, but she had cast each of them into the Ganges at birth so that they could quickly return to heaven. When Bhīṣma was born, however, she had not cast him into the river. Rather, the other Vasus had endowed him with their own power and he had become equal to all of them combined. Thus he was invincible on earth.
After praising Bhīṣma at length, Kṛṣṇa asked him to remove Yudhiṣṭhira’s doubts about his duty. “Dispel the sorrow of Pāṇḍu’s eldest son. He is distracted by grief because so many of his kinsmen were slain in the battle. Other than you, O foremost of orators, none can destroy the doubts that arise regarding duty. Persons like you live only for other’s benefit. Solace Pṛthā’s virtuous son, whose mind is heavy with anguish.”
Bhīṣma raised his head a little and looked into Kṛṣṇa’s face. “Obeisances to You, O divine Kṛṣṇa. You are the creator and destroyer of all things. Everything material and spiritual emanates from and rests upon You eternally. I can now see Your universal form with all its divine attributes. I take refuge in You, O Lord, and beseech Your mercy. Tell me, O all- powerful Supreme Person, what will be best for me now? I desire only to reach Your blissful abode.”
Kṛṣṇa gently stroked Bhīṣma’s head. “I know of your devotion to Me, O foremost of men. Thus I have allowed you to see My divine form, which is only revealed to My devoted servants. You are pure-hearted and have never swayed in your faith or love. You will therefore attain those regions from which one never returns. Fifty-six days remain of your life, O Bhīṣma, after which you will doubtlessly come to Me. When the sun turns to the north, you will quit your body, taking with you your extensive knowledge. Therefore we have all come to hear from you. Be pleased to speak and remove Yudhiṣṭhira’s grief.”
Bhīṣma’s head fell back and he closed his eyes. His face was covered with tears. The Pāṇḍavas were filled with sorrow to see him so pained. They sat with their heads bowed and their palms folded as Bhīṣma replied. “O great one, O Nārāyaṇa. O Lord of all the worlds, my heart is filled with joy upon hearing Your words, but how can I say anything in Your presence? You are the reservoir of knowledge. He who can speak on heaven before Indra will be able to speak about morality and duty in Your presence. Furthermore, O Keśava, I am in too much pain. I am weak and can barely speak. My strength is leaving me and my understanding is clouded. I can hardly discern anything. I think it is only through Your power that I live at all. You should therefore speak for Yudhiṣṭhira’s benefit and for the benefit of the world. How can I speak, a disciple before his guru?”
The autumn sun was warm and Bhīṣma was shaded with a large umbrella. The cries of vultures and hyenas still ranging about the battlefield was covered by the Brahmins chanting auspicious mantras. The Kuru grandfather, who was being fanned with a white chamara, felt overwhelmed by divine love as he gazed at Kṛṣṇa.
Kṛṣṇa smiled. “Your words become you, O powerful one, who are a great soul and the foremost of Kuru’s race. Regarding your pain, hear now the boon I will grant you out of love. From now until you die, you will be free of pain, hunger, thirst and bewilderment. Your perception and memory will remain unclouded and your mind will be peaceful. Your knowledge will be as clear to you as fishes in a still lake. Thus you will be able to answer all of Yudhiṣṭhira’s questions.”
As Kṛṣṇa spoke a shower of flowers fell from the sky. The ṛṣis praised Kṛṣṇa, while the gods played divine instruments. A cool, fragrant breeze blew and everything became peaceful. Even the animals and birds were silent.
The sun was setting. Kṛṣṇa told Bhīṣma that he and the Pāṇḍavas would return the next morning to hear him speak. After they had bowed before the grandfather, they left on their shining chariots, going to their nearby riverside encampment to spend the night.
* * *
The next day, Dhaumya led the Pāṇḍavas and Kṛṣṇa back to Bhīṣma. As he rode out from his camp on a chariot as bright as fire, Yudhiṣṭhira resembled Kuvera surrounded by the Guhyakas. Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna were seated on the same chariot and they appeared like a couple of resplendent gods. All three were worshipped by Brahmins as they headed out followed by Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Gāndhārī and thousands of other citizens, all of whom desired to see Bhīṣma one last time before he departed.
When the Pāṇḍavas arrived, they dismounted from their chariots and bowed at his feet. Kṛṣṇa bowed with them. The hundreds of ṛṣis surrounding Bhīṣma stood aside to allow Yudhiṣṭhira and his companions to approach. The Pāṇḍavas saw that almost every famous sage from all parts of the universe had now arrived. There was Parvata, Nārada, Vyāsadeva, Bharadvāja, Paraśurāma, Asita, Gautama, Atri, Kaśyapa, Aṅgirāsha and many others, all of them shining like sacrificial fires.
Bhīṣma, who had received and worshipped the sages with his words, also respectfully greeted the Pāṇḍavas and Kṛṣṇa as they took their places near him. Kṛṣṇa inquired how he was feeling, and Bhīṣma told Him that his pain and fatigue were gone. “Indeed, O Madhava, by Your grace my mind is perfectly calm and clear. I see all things—past, present and future—as clearly as I would a fruit held in my hand. Soon I will depart from this world, thinking only of You, O Govinda.”
Pāṇḍu’s sons sat silently, overtaken with affection for their dying grandfather. Seeing this, Bhīṣmadeva was himself overwhelmed with love. Tears sprang to his eyes and he said, trembling, “Oh, my dear son Yudhiṣṭhira, what terrible sufferings and injustices you good souls have suffered, even though you are the son of religion personified. Only because you were protected by the Brahmins, religion and the Supreme Lord himself did you manage to survive.”
Bhīṣma spoke reassuringly, trying to dispel Yudhiṣṭhira’s despondency by pointing out how he was under divine protection. Everything was going on according to the Supreme Lord’s will, and no one should grieve for such inevitabilities.
As everyone listened respectfully, Bhīṣma continued. “The many miseries endured by your mother and my daughter-in-law Kuntī are especially lamentable. Upon the great King Pāṇḍu’s death, she became a widow with many children, thus suffering. Later, she suffered more due to your sufferings. In my opinion, this is all due to inevitable time, under whose control everyone in every planet is carried, just as the clouds are carried by the wind. Surely the effects of time are irreversible and all-powerful. How else could there have been such difficulties in the presence of Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Dharma, and the invincible Bhīma and Arjuna? Above all, how can one suffer when he has as a well-wisher the Supreme Lord?”
Bhīṣma turned his head slightly and fixed his gaze on Kṛṣṇa. “It is this divine and unknowable Kṛṣṇa who controls everything. Time is simply His energy. Surely even the greatest seers and ṛṣis cannot understand His plans. Despite their exhaustive inquiries about Kṛṣṇa’s activities, they remain bewildered. O Yudhiṣṭhira, best among the Bharatas, I therefore maintain that all this destruction is within the Supreme Lord’s plan. Accepting His inconceivable will, you must follow it. You are now the appointed administrative head and thus you should take care of those subjects who have been rendered helpless.”
Bhīṣma knew that this argument would be the most effective in convincing Yudhiṣṭhira to do his duty. All of the Pāṇḍavas were devoted to Kṛṣṇa, but sometimes their intense, intimate love for Him made them forget that, after all, He was the supreme controller of all the events in the universe. Bhīṣma was simply reminding Yudhiṣṭhira of what he already knew. If the Pāṇḍava became fully convinced that the war and its outcome had been Kṛṣṇa’s own plan, he would not hesitate to perform his kingly duties.
Thanks to Kṛṣṇa’s boon, Bhīṣma’s voice had recovered its former resonance. He continued to look at Kṛṣṇa as he spoke. “This Govinda is none other than the supremely powerful original person. From Him comes Nārāyaṇa and all other deities. Still, He has appeared among the descendants of King Vṛṣṇi and moves about this world like one of us. Thus He bewilders us with His own self-created energy.”
Bhīṣma turned his face back toward Yudhiṣṭhira. “O King, only great personalities such as Śiva, the godly Ṛṣi Nārada, and Kapila, the divine sage incarnation, know about Kṛṣṇa’s confidential glories by their own direct relationship with Him. My dear child Yudhiṣṭhira, that personality whom, out of ignorance, you thought to be your maternal cousin, your very dear friend, well-wisher, counselor, messenger and benefactor, is in fact the Supreme Lord of the entire material and spiritual creation.”
Bhīṣma went on describing Kṛṣṇa’s position, whom he explained was present in everyone’s heart as the Supersoul. Equally kind to everyone, He was free from the false concept of differentiation. He did not see other creatures in terms of the body they inhabited. Thus whatever He did was free from material consideration.
Bhīṣma stopped for a moment, overcome by spiritual ecstasy. Tears flowed freely down his face, and Yudhiṣṭhira wiped them away gently with a soft cloth. Recovering his composure, Bhīṣma concluded. “Yet despite being equally disposed toward everyone, that very Kṛṣṇa has graciously come before me while I am ending my life, for I am His unflinching servant. That Supreme Person, who appears in the mind by attentive devotion and meditation, releases the devotee from the bondage of karma when he leaves his material body. May my Lord, who is four-handed and has a beautifully decorated lotus face with eyes as red as the rising sun, kindly await me at that final moment of my life.”
Bhīṣma spoke in a voice that touched the hearts of all present. Kṛṣṇa returned his affectionate gaze and raised His hand in blessing. He glanced across at Yudhiṣṭhira and nodded slightly, indicating that the Pāṇḍava monarch should now place his doubts before Bhīṣma.
Yudhiṣṭhira then began to ask about the essential principles of various religious duties. Bhīṣma responded in detail, repeating the Vedic knowledge which he had imbibed from the celestial ṛṣis and had personally realized. He cited many examples from the ancient histories to illustrate his points, and his audience was spellbound. Even the gods assembled to hear his instructions, and the day soon passed.
At sunset, everyone retired to their encampment, planning to return at sunrise the next day. For more than fifty days, the conversation continued. Bhīṣma first defined all the classifications and duties of the four castes and orders of life in terms of the individual’s qualifications. Then he systematically described how one could become free from material entanglement even while still engaged in work. He further explained acts of charity, a king’s practical duties, and which activities led to salvation.
Bhīṣma answered Yudhiṣṭhira’s questions to the Pāṇḍava’s full satisfaction. At the end of the fifty days, Yudhiṣṭhira felt his doubts and uncertainty cleared. Gradually, the sun moved toward its northern declination. As it passed into the northern hemisphere, the time favored by perfected yogīs for leaving the world, Bhīṣma ended his instructions to Yudhiṣṭhira and thought of departing. Being completely free of material attachment, he withdrew his mind from everything else and fixed his eyes upon Kṛṣṇa, who stood before him, displaying four hands and dressed in glittering yellow garments. Bhīṣma then stopped his sense activity, and he began to pray to the controller of all living beings.
“Let me now invest my thinking, feeling and willing, which were so long engaged in different subjects and occupational duties, in the all-powerful Lord Kṛṣṇa. He is always self-satisfied; but sometimes, being the leader of the devotees, He enjoys transcendental pleasure by coming to the material world—although He Himself creates the material world. He has appeared on earth in His transcendental body, which is blue like a tamala tree. That divine body attracts everyone in the three planetary systems. May His lotus face, decorated with sandalwood pulp, be the constant object of my attraction, and may I not desire any material results for my acts.”
Remembering his encounters with Kṛṣṇa during the war, Bhīṣma continued. “On the battlefield Kṛṣṇa drove the chariot of His intimate friend Arjuna, His flowing hair ash-colored due to dust raised by the horses’ hooves. Because of His labor, beads of sweat wetted His face. He enjoyed all these decorations, intensified by the wounds dealt by my sharp arrows. Let my mind be ever fixed in this remembrance.”
Bhīṣma knew that Kṛṣṇa’s engagement in the battle was simply an aspect of His transcendental enjoyment. Kṛṣṇa enjoyed showing His love for Arjuna by assisting him in ways that reciprocated with Arjuna’s desire. He had enjoyed a similar reciprocation with Bhīṣma, who had relished the sight of Kṛṣṇa rushing toward him in anger. Remembering that loving exchange, Bhīṣma recounted the pastime.
“Fulfilling my desire and sacrificing His own promise, He got down from the chariot, took up a wheel, and ran toward me just as a lion goes to kill an elephant. That image is forever fixed in my mind—Kṛṣṇa’s beautiful blackish face smoldering in anger as He charged toward me with His bright yellow garment falling to the ground. His armor was shattered by my arrows and His body was smeared with the blood of His wounds. May that Lord Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Person who awards salvation, be my ultimate destination.”
The old Kuru hero felt sorry that he had attacked Kṛṣṇa, although he knew that his arrows could not have harmed Him. Becoming silent for some time, he meditated deeply upon the incident. He had felt an intense ecstasy when Kṛṣṇa had come at him in anger. Kṛṣṇa Himself had obviously been experiencing pleasure, enjoying the mood of chivalry created by the fight. Bhīṣma found himself swimming in the remembrance of that feeling. Surely the exchange with Kṛṣṇa on the battlefield had been the most sublime moment of his life. Now here was that same Supreme Person, mercifully standing before him despite the fact that Bhīṣma had assailed both Him and His intimate friend Arjuna during the war.
The sun was reaching the meridian and Bhīṣma knew his departure was near. He controlled his mind, absorbing it in thoughts of Kṛṣṇa alone. Thinking of Kṛṣṇa’s many divine pastimes during His presence on earth, he spoke one final time.
“I can now meditate with full concentration upon that one Lord, Kṛṣṇa, visible before me, because I have transcended the misconception of duality. It is this Kṛṣṇa who is present in everyone’s heart and who is the ultimate destination for all transcendentalists, including those who accept the absolute truth as being simply the Brahman. Even though the sun may be perceived differently by different people in different parts of the world, the sun is one. I therefore surrender myself fully to that all-powerful, omnipresent Kṛṣṇa. May all be well with the worlds.”
After saying farewell to Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers, and instructing them to always worship the Brahmins and remain fixed in truth, Bhīṣma fell silent and stopped breathing. Suddenly his life air shot out from the crown of his head and went into the sky like a blazing comet. The ṛṣis present could see that he had left his body in a brilliant spiritual form and entered into Kṛṣṇa, thus going to the eternal transcendental atmosphere where Kṛṣṇa forever displays His loving pastimes. They folded their palms and uttered praises of Kṛṣṇa, then became silent out of respect for Bhīṣma. The Pāṇḍavas sat silently shedding tears, seeing that their beloved grandfather had departed.
A few minutes later, the gods sounded their drums to honor Bhīṣma. The kṣatriyas blew their conchshells and also beat drums. Demonstrations of honor and respect were made by all present, and showers of flowers fell from the sky.
The Pāṇḍavas gazed mutely at the old Kuru leader, unable to move for some time. Finally they fought back their tears and personally collected the wood to build the funeral pyre. Bhīṣma’s body, wrapped in a silken cloth, garlanded, and smeared with fragrant scents and sandalwood pulp, was placed on the pyre. Yuyutsu stood at his head holding a shining white umbrella. Bhīma and Arjuna fanned him on either side with cāmaras, while Yudhiṣṭhira and Dhṛtarāṣṭra fanned him at his feet.
The Brahmins performed the last rites, offering libations into the fire on Bhīṣma’s behalf and chanting hymns from the Sāma Veda. They then handed a flaming torch to Yudhiṣṭhira, who lit the pyre. As the flames consumed Bhīṣma’s body, the women cried out in grief.
After Bhīṣma had been cremated, the Kurus and the Pāṇḍavas returned to the Ganges. Bhīṣma’s ashes were cast into the holy waters and everyone made offerings. Suddenly, the goddess Gaṅgā rose up from the river. Radiant in her white silks and gold ornaments, she wept for the death of her son.
“Alas, where has my son gone? Of royal conduct and disposition, he was devoted to virtue and to serving his elders. Even the great Paraśurāma could not defeat him. In Kashi he single-handedly overpowered the world’s kings and took away the princesses. Now he has been slain by the heartless Śikhaṇḍī.”
Seeing Gaṅgā grieving, Kṛṣṇa spoke to her and consoled her. He reassured her that Bhīṣma had attained the highest destination. His fame on earth would last forever, and now he was gone to a place from which no one returns.
Comforted, the goddess cast off her grief. The Kurus then worshipped her and obtained her permission to return to the city.
2.32: Kṛṣṇa Returns to Dwārakā
Yudhiṣṭhira began ruling the earth as lord of the Kurus. Surrounded by his brothers, he resembled Indra seated in Amarāvatī. Yudhiṣṭhira had arranged that Dhṛtarāṣṭra continue as chief administrator of Hastināpura. The blind king, attended by Sañjaya and Yuyutsu, gave orders which even the Pāṇḍavas followed out of deference. Draupadī, Subhadrā and the other ladies treated Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Gāndhārī as father and mother. Even Kuntī behaved toward Gāndhārī as one would act toward a senior. Kṛpa had returned to the city and become Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s trusted counselor, and Vyāsadeva and other ṛṣis also advised him.
Yudhiṣṭhira, however, still felt a deep sense of guilt and shame. Seeing the thousands of bereaved women and children in the city, he was consumed by sorrow. Kṛṣṇa, who at Yudhiṣṭhira’s request had agreed to live in Hastināpura for some time, spoke to the mourning king. “Do not indulge your grief, O best of men, for by so doing you will increase the grief of your people and even give pain to your departed relatives. You should celebrate and perform sacrifices. Give joy to your subjects. Make profuse offerings to your forefathers and distribute charity to the Brahmins. Thus any trace of sin caused by the war will be washed off. Perform the Ashvemedha sacrifice, O King, and renounce this useless grief.”
Sighing, Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “O Govinda, I know You are fond of me. You have always favored me and my brothers. O Janārdana, speak again of eternal spiritual truths, for my mind is still heavy. Reassured by Your words, which I imbibe like nectar, I will become enthused to carry out my duties.”
Kṛṣṇa was always inclined to satisfy Yudhiṣṭhira’s desires. He knew that the Pāṇḍava monarch had no other refuge. Although Kṛṣṇa wanted to return to Dwārakā to see His relatives, He had acceded to Yudhiṣṭhira’s repeated pleas that He stay in Hastināpura. Now, seeing his dejection, Kṛṣṇa spoke once more to assuage his sorrow.
“O foremost of Bharata’s race, you must now contend with the most powerful enemy of all: your mind. Your only weapon in this battle is knowledge, and you have no army to assist you. O King, you already know everything. You know that all beings are undying, spiritual entities, that this material world is nothing more than a temporary illusion, and that the primary aim of life is to seek spiritual emancipation. Stand firm on this knowledge, O Yudhiṣṭhira, and do your duty.”
Kṛṣṇa explained how one desiring liberation must become free from attachment and aversion to material objects, which included the material body and all its designations. Yudhiṣṭhira’s lamentation was based on seeing only the external situation. He was grieving for matter without seeing spirit. All those who had been killed were still existing in new bodies. Those who were grieving for them would also soon die, forgetting their present sorrow. The prime duty of every man is to realize his true identity as an eternal part of the Supreme. That realization would bring complete freedom from the material misery caused by ignorance.
“By doing your material duties only for God’s pleasure will you gain this realization, O King, for such actions are on the spiritual platform and will soon raise you to spiritual consciousness. Throw off your ignorance and do what must be done. Prepare for the sacrifice, please the gods and Viṣṇu, satisfy the Brahmins, and rule this world with justice and compassion.”
Solaced, and instructed by Dhaumya and other ṛṣis, Yudhiṣṭhira gradually gave up his anguish. He thanked Kṛṣṇa, who then asked if He may go to Indraprastha with Arjuna. The two friends wanted to spend some time together in that beautiful city, especially in the celestial Mayasabha. Yudhiṣṭhira gave his permission and soon they were traveling in Kṛṣṇa’s chariot, moving swiftly along the broad highway that went from Hastināpura toward the north.
Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa spent weeks at Indraprastha. Upon their arrival they were greeted by thousands of overjoyed citizens. Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa then retired to the Mayasabha and also spent time together in the delightful, wooded regions surrounding the city. They spoke together about the many battles that had been fought and which the Pāṇḍavas had won. Kṛṣṇa could see that Arjuna too was grieving for the loss of his sons and friends and thus He consoled him.
After some weeks, Kṛṣṇa again wanted to return to Dwārakā and He asked Arjuna to secure Yudhiṣṭhira’s permission. “You should know that I am unable to do anything which may displease your brother. My life, wealth and followers are at his disposal. But I think I should return to see My aging father Vasudeva and My other relatives. The earth with her belt of seas and mountains, mines, and forests has come under Yudhiṣṭhira’s sway. I have spoken words of reason and wisdom to comfort him. He is now determined to do his duty. Therefore, I think it is time for Me to go. Let us approach Yudhiṣṭhira together and seek his approval.”
Arjuna’s heart sank at the thought of Kṛṣṇa’s departure, but he knew it was time. Kṛṣṇa had not seen His relatives since the war. They would surely be grieving for Abhimanyu, and would be missing Kṛṣṇa Himself. Reluctantly, Arjuna assented to Kṛṣṇa’s request. Early the next day, they made their way back to Hastināpura.
As they traveled Arjuna said, “Dear Madhava, I have come to know Your true identity from Your profound instructions delivered on the first day of the war, but, my Lord, I find it difficult to recall those instructions. Indeed, my mind is confused now that You are about to leave us. Please, if You are agreeable, repeat that knowledge to me.”
Kṛṣṇa smiled affectionately, “Surely you are fickle-minded, O son of Pāṇḍu. Those truths I spoke were confidential and unknown even to the gods. I am not pleased that you have forgotten them, and I do not think I can repeat them now. But I will recite an ancient history on the same subject. Focus your mind and try to understand, O Pārtha, for this knowledge will free you from material bondage.”
As Dāruka drove the chariot to Hastināpura, Kṛṣṇa narrated the history. Lost in his love for Kṛṣṇa, Arjuna was captivated by His eloquent speech. The chariot moved swiftly along the smooth road, passing through various villages and alongside fields full of crops or grazing cattle. When the day’s journey was almost over, Kṛṣṇa concluded His instructions and said, “If you have any love for Me, O scion of Kuru, you will lead your life according to these instructions. Always remember your actual identity as soul and remain fixed in rendering service to the Supreme Soul. In that way, you will never fall into illusion again.”
Arjuna replied that as far as he was concerned, Kṛṣṇa was the Supreme Soul. Remembrance of Him was all that was required to achieve perfection in life. “I am convinced of Your glories, O Govinda. Indeed, I could not reach the end of Your glories if I were to recite them continuously with a thousand mouths and for a thousand years. You are the one Lord of all creatures, known variously only due to the various perceptions of different men. Everything that we, the Pāṇḍavas, have achieved is simply due to Your favor.”
Kṛṣṇa embraced Arjuna, who assured Him that he would gain Yudhiṣṭhira’s permission for His departure. “Although my heart is breaking at the thought of You leaving, I understand that You must return to Your family. We have already been favored by Your long presence here.”
The chariot entered Hastināpura, passing throngs of cheering citizens who rushed to the roadside to watch it go by. Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa smiled at the people and received their worship by offering them blessings. They soon reached the royal palace and went quickly before Yudhiṣṭhira, bowing at his feet and greeting him with affection. They then offered their obeisances to Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Gāndhārī, who occupied thrones close to Yudhiṣṭhira’s.
When the formal greetings were over, Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa sat before Yudhiṣṭhira, being fanned by maidservants with chamara whisks. Seeing them both looking up at him, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “It appears you have something on your minds. Speak it out, O heroes. Whatever you desire, I will satisfy it. Do not hesitate to reveal your minds.”
Arjuna, who had expected his brother to say just that, smiled. “The lord of the Vṛṣṇis and Yadus, Keśava, wishes to see His father and other relatives in Dwārakā. O King, if you think it proper, then please let Him go. Grant Him permission to repair to His own city.”
Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers gazed at Kṛṣṇa, who had been with them now for months. As soon as He had heard of their coming out of exile, He had left Dwārakā to be with them, guiding them back toward their former positions as rulers of the world. All the brothers knew that without Kṛṣṇa they could not possibly have succeeded. Now His work was done. Duryodhana and his army of invincible warriors had been overcome. The Pāṇḍavas were now the undisputed monarchs, their position better now than before their exile. Both Hastināpura and Indraprastha, the two great capitals of the earth, were now under their command.
But the Pāṇḍavas cared little for power and opulence. For them, Kṛṣṇa’s presence and love was more valuable than rulership of the earth. Yudhiṣṭhira’s acceptance of the throne, and even his declaring war against the Kauravas, had been due ultimately to his understanding that it was Kṛṣṇa’s desire. Hearing that He now desired to return to Dwārakā, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O lotus-eyed one, O Madhava, I will allow You to go. Go and see my maternal uncle and the goddess Devakī. You have been away for a long time. Offer them my deepest respects, and also Balarāma, who is ever worthy of the world’s worship. Think of us daily, and if it pleases You, return when we perform the Ashvamedha. Everything we possess is simply due to Your favor.”
Yudhiṣṭhira immediately dispatched swift messengers to Dwārakā to inform the citizens of Kṛṣṇa’s impending arrival. He also ordered that Kṛṣṇa be given gems and gold in large amounts. Graciously accepting the gifts, Kṛṣṇa said, “O mighty-armed one, you are the lord of the earth. Whatever I possess is yours and you may do with it as you wish. I will go now, but I will surely return to see your sacrifice.”
Kṛṣṇa decided to leave for Dwārakā early the next morning. He rose from His seat like the sun rising above the eastern hills and left the assembly hall with Arjuna and Sātyaki at His side. Yudhiṣṭhira and the other Pāṇḍavas followed Him as He mounted His chariot, going with His two friends to Arjuna’s palace for the night.
After sunrise Kṛṣṇa prepared to leave. Mounting His jeweled chariot, He proceeded to Yudhiṣṭhira’s palace to say His final farewells. Hearing that He was about to depart, Kuntī and the other Kuru ladies came out to see Him. The noble ladies, resplendent in silk, stood with tears in their eyes, mentally offering their obeisances at Kṛṣṇa’s feet again and again.
Remembering the many times that Kṛṣṇa had protected her and her sons, Kuntī stood by the side of His chariot with folded palms and offered prayers.
“O Kṛṣṇa, You are the original personality, unaffected by anything in this material world. You exist within and without, yet You are invisible to all. Foolish men fail to recognize Your identity as the Supersoul in all beings, for You cannot be known by the material senses. Only those who are free from lust and avarice can approach and know You, for otherwise You remain covered by Your own illusory energy. Yet You reciprocate with those who come to You in love, acting from within their hearts to free them from illusion.”
Standing outside the great royal palace, which towered above her like a white mountain, Kuntī praised Kṛṣṇa for some time. She described the many occasions that she and her sons had been in danger and how Kṛṣṇa had saved them. Her voice trembled with a sublime joy. “O Govinda, I wish that all those calamities would happen again and again so that we could see You again and again, for seeing You means that we will no longer see repeated birth and death.”
During her sons’ exile, Kuntī had devoted herself to fasts and asceticism. She was a self-realized soul and understood that the ultimate aim of life was to achieve freedom from rebirth in the material world. Realizing that her many difficulties in life had forced her to meditate on Kṛṣṇa, she felt that those difficulties had been a great blessing, for she had come to know Kṛṣṇa as the final goal of all spiritual practices. Kuntī had cultivated detachment from matter and prayed that Kṛṣṇa would sever her last attachments to the world in the form of her feelings of affection for her sons and other relatives. Kuntī knew that in order to achieve complete liberation, she had to see all living beings, including her own family, as eternal spirit souls. One in true knowledge sees and loves all creatures equally, knowing them to be parts of the Supreme. Bodily designations are temporary and, ultimately, meaningless.
After describing Kṛṣṇa’s transcendental qualities, Kuntī concluded her prayers with a heartfelt plea. “O Lord of Madhu, as the Ganges forever flows to the sea without hindrance, let my attraction be constantly drawn to You without being diverted to anyone else. You are my and my sons’ only shelter. How are You leaving us today, even though we are completely dependent on You and have no one else to protect us, especially now that so many kings are at enmity with us?”
Kuntī knew that although the Pāṇḍavas had conquered their enemies, they would soon have to contend with the sons and followers of the kings they had killed. Those kings had only brought some of their forces to fight at Kurukṣetra, leaving sons or brothers to rule in their absence. Thus there were still many rulers around the world who commanded armies and who would likely be antagonistic to the Pāṇḍavas.
With her gaze fixed on Kṛṣṇa’s face, she added, “As the name and fame of a particular body is finished with the disappearance of the living spirit, similarly, if You do not look upon us, all our fame and activities will end at once. O Kṛṣṇa, You possess all mystic powers, and You are the preceptor of the entire universe. You are the almighty God, and I offer You my respectful obeisances.”
Kṛṣṇa held up His hand, decorated with jewels and red sandalwood paste, in blessing as Kuntī ended her prayers, enchanting all who saw Him with His beauty and grace. He told Kuntī that just as she was always thinking of Him, He never forgot her or her sons.
Then it was time for Kṛṣṇa to leave. Sātyaki mounted the chariot, and the royal escort Yudhiṣṭhira had arranged led Him from the city. Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers climbed up on Kṛṣṇa’s chariot and embraced him. The palace ladies praised Kṛṣṇa from the balconies, showering Him with flowers. The streets were lined with citizens longing for one final sight of Kṛṣṇa. After the Pāṇḍavas had said their farewells and dismounted, Dāruka commanded Kṛṣṇa’s celestial horses and His chariot moved off.
The Pāṇḍavas stood gazing after the chariot as it went along the red stone road leading from the city. When it was out of sight, they slowly and silently made their way back into the palace.
* * *
When Kṛṣṇa was alone on His chariot, Dāruka urged on the horses. The chariot quickly reached the speed of the wind. Passing lakes, rivers, forests and hills, as well as towns and hamlets, it finally arrived in Dwārakā. As He approached the city, Kṛṣṇa blew a blast on His conch shell. The guards heard the sound and threw open the city gates with shouts of joy. They announced Kṛṣṇa’s imminent arrival and the citizens ran out of the city. Seeing Kṛṣṇa returning after so long, they felt as if they had woken from a long sleep. They offered Him cows, gold and gems, and cheered and beat drums as He passed.
Tall flags lined the roofs of mansions, and the ground was strewn with flower petals. As Kṛṣṇa’s chariot moved slowly along the road, the citizens waved branches of palm, banana and mango trees. In every doorway stood golden waterpots, baskets of fruit, sugarcane, pots of milk, and other auspicious articles. Incense billowed from every house and hundreds of thousands of candles burned.
As He moved toward His father’s palace, Kṛṣṇa saw the opulence of His city—the orchards and flower gardens, the beautiful lakes teeming with swans and thick with red and blue lotuses. Golden archways studded with precious stones stood at every crossroad, and white mansions lined the roads.
Numerous Brahmins worshipped Kṛṣṇa, and Kṛṣṇa heard them praising Him as He passed. In voices suffused with ecstasy they said, “O Almighty One, You are worshipable by even the gods and are the ultimate goal of life for all transcendentalists. You are our protector, guide and worshipable Lord. By good fortune have we seen You again, for You rarely visit even the denizens of heaven.”
The Brahmins prayed that Kṛṣṇa not leave Dwārakā again, saying that each day He was absent felt like thousands of years.
Kṛṣṇa received their prayers and worship by glancing at them affectionately. As the chariot moved forward, a number of powerful men went ahead to clear the road. Followed by a procession of elephants, chariots and walking citizens, Kṛṣṇa’s chariot gradually made its way through the dense crowds and arrived at Vasudeva’s palace. In the courtyard He saw colorfully dressed dancers and actors expertly enacting His pastimes with grace, while singers and poets glorified Him to musical instruments.
Pleased, Kṛṣṇa dismounted from His chariot and met the leading citizens. According to their status He bowed before them, embraced them, or offered them His blessings. He exchanged greetings, shook hands, and offered benedictions to hundreds of citizens. Then He entered His father’s house.
Devakī was the first to greet Kṛṣṇa as He came into the house. After He had placed His head at her feet, she embraced Him and sat Him upon her lap, stroking His head and offering Him her blessings.
Kṛṣṇa then greeted all the senior palace ladies, seeing them as mothers, and then went before Vasudeva. After He had touched His father’s feet and received his embrace, Kṛṣṇa sat by his side and told him the news from Hastināpura. Vasudeva had not heard much about the war, and he asked Kṛṣṇa to tell him everything that had happened since His departure.
Surrounded by other Vrishni elders, Vasudeva listened to Kṛṣṇa’s narration. Kṛṣṇa deliberately avoided telling His father about Abhimanyu’s death.
When Kṛṣṇa stopped speaking, Subhadrā, present by her father’s side, asked, “Why, O Kṛṣṇa, have You not told Your father about my son’s death?” After saying this, she dropped to the palace floor in a swoon.
When Vasudeva heard her words, he also fell, overcome by grief. Kṛṣṇa quickly took them both up and consoled them. “My dear father, dearest sister, how could I speak that which would only give you sorrow? You should know that the heroic Abhimanyu died in the thick of battle. While contending with numerous invincible fighters, never once showing his back, he finally gave up his life. Only due to the inevitable influence of time did the mighty hero fall in battle. None could have slain him. He has now reached regions of undying happiness. Cast off your burning grief and we will make his funeral offerings.”
After going to a sanctified spot in the palace compound, Kṛṣṇa, along with Balarāma and aided by the Brahmins, personally performed Abhimanyu’s śraddhā ceremony. On behalf of His departed nephew He gave charity to millions of Brahmins. He distributed heaps of gold and gems, along with hundreds of thousands of cows. The ceremony was attended by all the leading Vrishnis, headed by their king, Ugrasena, and all of Kṛṣṇa’s thousands of sons and other relatives.
After the ceremony, Kṛṣṇa retired to His personal quarters in Rukmīṇī’s palace, and the citizens of Dwārakā returned home feeling both joy and sorrow.
2.33: Yudhiṣṭhira’s Ashvamedha Sacrifice
In Hastināpura the Pāṇḍavas settled into their lives as rulers. Yudhiṣṭhira was the embodiment of justice and virtue. None could fault him. Due to the gods’ cooperation, who were pleased by the people’s piety under Yudhiṣṭhira’s care, there was never a shortage of rain. The earth produced abundant crops and supported countless cows, who moistened the ground with the milk that dripped from their full milk bags. The people felt they had everything they desired and were free from anxiety. They were not afflicted by disease, mental agony, or excessive heat and cold. Sons always outlived their fathers and no women became widows.
Some months after Kṛṣṇa’s departure, Uttarā, who was staying with Kuntī and Draupadī, gave birth to her son. She named him Parīkṣit. After Dhaumya had performed his birth and naming ceremonies, Yudhiṣṭhira asked them, “O Brahmins, please tell me if this child will become a saintly king, as famous and glorified in his achievements as his noble predecessors?”
Dhaumya replied that the boy, who had been saved from death by Kṛṣṇa while still in the womb, would certainly be famous as a great devotee of the Supreme Lord. “He will be known as Viṣṇurata, or one who is always protected by the Lord. Endowed with all good qualities, he will be exactly like Ikṣvāku, Manu’s famous son, in maintaining the people. For following religious principles and for his truthfulness, he will be exactly like Rāma, the son of king Daśaratha. He will give charity and protect the helpless. As a warrior, he will be as irresistible as the mighty ocean, possessing skills in archery equal to those of Arjuna. Indeed, O King, he will expand the fame of his family like Bharata himself.”
Yudhiṣṭhira was overjoyed. Here was a worthy heir to the Kuru line. The Pāṇḍavas still sorrowed at the loss of their own sons, but seeing Parīkṣit solaced them. He was clearly marked by auspicious lines on his body. Yudhiṣṭhira arranged for much charity to be distributed on the boy’s behalf. The sages who had attended the birth ceremony received the wealth but gave most of it away. Then they left for the mountains, their minds set on their ascetic practices.
Soon after Parīkṣit’s birth, Yudhiṣṭhira began to think of the sacrifice he would like to perform. He still desired to atone for the killing at Kurukṣetra, and the ṛṣis had recommended that he perform the Ashvamedha. As with the Rājasūya, the sacrifice would give him the opportunity to again establish his position as the earth’s emperor. He would have to send out the sacrificial horse to all parts of the land. Anyone not accepting his rule would be obliged to fight.
Although he had no personal ambition to rule the earth, Yudhiṣṭhira wanted to ensure that the world was on the path of peace and religion. There could not be another Kurukṣetra. It was also Kṛṣṇa’s desire that the virtuous Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers be clearly established as the earth’s foremost rulers. Yudhiṣṭhira thus set about making his preparations.
Knowing that the performance of an Ashvamedha requires immense wealth, Yudhiṣṭhira was anxious. The treasury had been seriously depleted by the war. The Pāṇḍava revealed his anxiety to Vyāsadeva, who told him of a great store of wealth lying in the North. The sage told Yudhiṣṭhira about a former emperor of the earth, named Marutta, who had possessed almost unlimited wealth. He had pleased Śiva by performing a sacrifice and the god had given him a mountain made of gold. From that mountain he had fashioned sacrificial altars of pure gold, as well as vast numbers of gold plates and other utensils. These were now lying in a cave in the Himālayas. Vyāsadeva instructed Arjuna how to find the cave and Arjuna left at once, returning after a month with the immense riches carried on a seemingly endless line of bullocks and elephants.
Yudhiṣṭhira then invited rulers from around the world to attend the sacrifice. He wanted to establish peaceful relations with all kings, but he knew that there would be a lot of inimical feelings left from the war. There were many kings who had not participated in the Kurukṣetra war who would likely be neutral, but there were also some kings whose fathers or brothers had been killed by the Pāṇḍavas and who harbored enmity with them. Knowing this, Yudhiṣṭhira asked Arjuna to follow the sacrificial horse. Anyone seeing the horse and not agreeing to Yudhiṣṭhira’s rule would have to face Arjuna. The Pāṇḍava put on his golden armor and prepared himself for the expedition.
After being blessed by the Brahmins, Arjuna set off in pursuit of the horse. He was followed by a large body of warriors, as well as a number of sages who would perform the sacred rites to invoke auspiciousness and ensure his success. Yudhiṣṭhira had earnestly entreated Arjuna not to kill anyone unless it was absolutely unavoidable. Remembering this, he first tried to establish peaceful relations through diplomacy; but in some cases, he was forced to take up arms. He fought a battle with the Trigartas, who bore him enmity for having slain their king and his brothers during the war. After they had been overpowered, another fierce fight took place between Arjuna and king Vajradatta, the son of Bhagadatta. That battle lasted for three days, with Arjuna finally defeating Vajradatta but sparing his life. After the king had agreed to bring tribute for Yudhiṣṭhira’s sacrifice, Arjuna moved south.
A powerful battle took place with the Sindhus, who were grieving Jayadratha’s death. Tens of thousands of warriors came out to contend with Arjuna. He attacked them with arrows from the Gāṇḍīva, cutting their weapons to pieces and forcing them to flee.
In the Sindhu capital, Duryodhana’s sister Dushala lived. When she saw that Arjuna was crushing her troops, she came hastily out of the city holding an infant in her arms. Seeing her rushing onto the field with her child, the warriors lowered their weapons. She fell before Arjuna, crying. “Stop, O hero! Do not destroy the last of our race. See here this child, who is your own relative, the son of my son. Out of sheer grief for Jayadratha’s death, the father of this boy has given up his life. Now you, Jayadratha’s killer, are bent upon annihilating the rest of his family and followers. O Arjuna, pray forget the sins of this child’s grandfather and have mercy on him.”
Seeing the weeping Dushala, whom he regarded as a sister, Arjuna cast aside his bow. He censured the life of a kṣatriya and cried out, “Fie on the wicked Duryodhana! That mean person, so covetous of the kingdom, has brought about the death of all my kinsmen.”
Arjuna got down from his chariot and consoled Dushala. She turned to the Sindhu warriors and told them to put down their weapons and make peace with Arjuna. They complied. Arjuna then dismissed her and she returned to the city, leaving him to continue his travels.
The horse reached Maṇipur, where Arjuna was greeted peacefully by his own son Babhruvahana, whom he had conceived with the princess Citrāṅgadā. As Arjuna had agreed at the time of his birth, Babhruvahana had remained at Maṇipur, ruling that kingdom and not taking any part in the great war. He came to Arjuna with offerings of gold and gems, but Arjuna was nevertheless clearly displeased. His mind was seized with anger and he shouted out to his son, “Why, O child, have you come in peace when an antagonist has entered your land? This is never in keeping with kṣatriya duties. You have acted like a woman! I have come here bearing arms and you should have challenged me with heroic words. O wretched boy, take up your weapons and give me battle.”
Babhruvahana was surprised by his father’s reaction. He tried to appease him, but Arjuna would not listen. He repeatedly goaded his son to fight.
As that exchange was taking place, Ulūpī suddenly appeared from the earth. The daughter of the Nāga king, and Arjuna’s wife, stood before Babhruvahana and said, “Listen, O prince. I am Ulūpī, your mother, and have come here desiring to do both you and your father good. Fight with him, for this will please him and you will then acquire merit.”
Hearing his stepmother’s words as well as the repeated urgings of his father, the prince agreed. After putting on his blazing armor and mounting a chariot, he stood before his father ready for battle. Seeing the sacrificial horse nearby, Babhruvahana had some of his men seize it and take it into his city. Arjuna was incensed and he rained down arrows on his powerful son.
A terrible fight took place between father and son. Both showed no quarter, releasing countless arrows at one another. Arjuna was suddenly struck on the shoulder by a steel shaft that pierced him deeply and made him almost lose consciousness. He leaned on his standard pole. When he regained his senses, he praised his son. “Excellent! Well done! O son of Citrāṅgadā, I am pleased with you for your prowess and power. Now stand fearlessly, for I will let loose my terrible shafts.”
Arjuna fought relentlessly, shooting arrows which smashed his son’s chariot and killed his horses. Jumping to the ground, the prince stood fearlessly before his father. In a moment he took out a long golden arrow bedecked with jewels and kanka feathers and fired it from his fully drawn bow. That arrow sped toward Arjuna and struck him on the chest, piercing his armor.
Gasping in pain, Arjuna fell from his car and lay on the earth. Babhruvahana, himself pierced all over by Arjuna’s shafts, was seized with grief upon seeing his father killed. Overpowered, he too fell to the ground.
Citrāṅgadā heard that her husband and son had both fallen on the battlefield. She rushed out of the city. Seeing them lying there, she too fainted. When she had recovered her senses, she saw Ulūpī standing before her. Knowing that Babhruvahana had fought his father at her behest, she said, “O Ulūpī, see our ever-victorious husband slain as a result of your instructions to my son. Do you not know the practices of respectable women? Are you not devoted to your husband? If Arjuna has offended you in some way, you should have forgiven him. Why are you not grieving? O snake-lady, you are a goddess. I beseech you to revive our husband.”
Citrāṅgadā ran over to Arjuna and fell to the ground weeping. With the arrow protruding from his chest and blood seeping from the wound, he seemed like a hill with a tree on the summit and its rocks running with red oxide. The Maṇipur princess placed Arjuna’s feet in her lap and cried uncontrollably.
Regaining consciousness, Babhruvahana got to his feet and ran over to his father. Along with his mother, he too began to cry. In a choked voice he lamented, “Alas, what have I done? What is the atonement for one who has killed his father? I should doubtlessly suffer every sort of misery for such a sin. Indeed, I cannot continue my life. I will sit by my father’s side, abstaining from food and drink, until death takes me. Let me follow the path taken by Arjuna.”
The prince cried for some time, then fell silent. He sat in a yogic posture next to Arjuna and prepared to observe the Praya vow of fasting until death.
Seeing both her co-wife and stepson overcome by sorrow, Ulūpī approached them. By her mystic power she fetched from the Nāga kingdom a celestial gem that had the power to revive the dead. Taking the effulgent gem, which shone with a hundred different hues, she went over to Babhruvahana and said, “Rise up, O son. You have not killed Arjuna. Indeed, neither man nor god can slay him. He is an eternal ṛṣi of indestructible soul. His apparent death is simply illusion. O child, take this gem and place it on your father’s chest and he will rise.”
The prince did as he was told and, almost at once, Arjuna opened his eyes. His wound healed and he sat up and looked around. Babhruvahana sighed with relief. He bowed at his father’s feet and begged forgiveness. Kettledrums resounded in the sky and a shower of flowers fell. Voices in the heavens called out, “Excellent! Excellent!”
Arjuna stood up and embraced his son with affection. “What is the cause of all these signs?” he asked. “Why has your mother Citrāṅgadā come onto the field? Why do I also see the Nāga princess here?”
Babhruvahana told his father to ask Ulūpī. Arjuna looked at her, the question in his eyes. “What brings you here, O daughter of the Nāgas? Have you come here desiring to do us good? I hope neither I nor my son have done you any injury.”
Ulūpī smiled and reassured Arjuna that she had not been offended. She had urged the prince to fight to serve both him and Arjuna. “Listen to my words, O mighty-armed Arjuna. During the war you deceitfully killed Bhīṣma, placing Śikhaṇḍī before you when you approached him. For that sin you would have fallen into hell, but your sin has been expiated by your son’s actions.”
Ulūpī explained that soon after Bhīṣma’s fall, she had seen the Vasus come to the river Ganges to bathe. While they were there, they called for the goddess Gaṅgā and said, “Arjuna has unfairly slain your son. For this we will curse him to die.” Gaṅgā had agreed. Seeing all this, Ulūpī had gone before her father in anxiety. She told him what she had seen and her father, king of the Nāgas, went at once to the Vasus. He begged them to be merciful to Arjuna, his son-in-law, and they replied, “Dhanañjaya has a youthful son who is now king of Maṇipur. That king will cast his father down in battle and free him from our curse.”
Ulūpī continued, “It is for this reason that you were slain by your son. Indeed, not even Indra could kill you, but it is said that the son is one’s own self. After he killed you, I revived you with this celestial gem.”
Ulūpī showed Arjuna the brilliant jewel and he cheerfully replied, “Everything you have done is agreeable to me, O goddess. You have not committed any fault.”
Babhruvahana beseeched Arjuna to spend a night in the city with his two wives, but Arjuna declined, saying that he could not rest until the sacrificial horse returned to Hastināpura. He took leave from his wives and his son, who said he would soon come to Yudhiṣṭhira’s sacrifice. After telling his wives to join him in Hastināpura, he continued on his way in pursuit of the horse.
Arjuna next came to Rajagriha, the city where he had long ago gone with Bhīma and Kṛṣṇa to kill Jarāsandha. Jarāsandha’s grandson, Meghasandhi, still only a boy, but observing the duty of a kṣatriya, came out and offered to fight with Arjuna with bold and heroic words. “It seems this horse is protected only by women,” he challenged, and a great fight ensued. During the battle, Meghasandhi’s chariot was smashed and he was finally overpowered. Arjuna said, “At the command of Yudhiṣṭhira I will not slay those kings whom I defeat if they acquiesce to his rule.”
Meghasandhi agreed to attend Yudhiṣṭhira’s sacrifice and offer tribute, and Arjuna continued on his way. He fought with several other monarchs, obliging them to accept Yudhiṣṭhira as emperor, before the horse at last reached the road leading back to Hastināpura.
2.34: Vidura Instructs Dhṛtarāṣṭra
In Hastināpura, Yudhiṣṭhira heard from his men that Arjuna was approaching the city. Hearing that all was well with his brother, he joyfully set about making preparations for his sacrifice. His priests had arranged for the sacrifice to be performed on the full moon day in the month of Magha. They selected an auspicious spot on a large, level plain outside the city, and sanctified it with Vedic rites. A golden altar was constructed, and numerous mansions were built for the visiting kings. Messengers were then dispatched to all parts of the land to invite them.
Soon numerous monarchs began to arrive, as well as thousands of ascetics. The Pāṇḍavas greeted them all warmly and offered them the finest accommodation. As the day of the sacrifice approached, Yudhiṣṭhira himself went out of the city and entered the royal pavilion. As he proceeded, he saw the sacrificial arena, resembling Indra’s heavenly capital. Triumphal arches had been built, and the ground was paved with gold bricks. Jars, jugs, ladles, seats, and other necessary paraphernalia had been arranged around the fire altars which surrounded the main altar. The main altar shone like the sun. Yudhiṣṭhira did not see anything that was not made of gold.
The guests were filled with wonder at its opulence. They were fed sumptuously by thousands of servants, and provided with anything they desired. Yudhiṣṭhira arranged that drums and cymbals should be sounded each time a hundred thousand Brahmins had been fed. The crash and clash of those instruments was heard again and again throughout the day. There were hills of food, huge tanks of ghee, and lakes filled with milk. The citizens joyfully came out to attend the sacrifice, dressed in colorful silks and adorned with burnished golden earrings. The women were decorated with jewels and ornaments, and their faces shone like radiant moons.
A few days before the sacrifice, Kṛṣṇa arrived with His son Pradyumna, and Sātyaki and Balarāma. Numerous other Yadus and Vrishnis accompanied Him and they all entered the sacrificial arena like gods descending from heaven. Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers worshipped Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma and offered Them the best mansions for Their residence. Kṛṣṇa spoke about Arjuna, who had not yet returned from his expedition. He told the other Pāṇḍavas that He had received news about him and that he would be arriving the next day.
After the Pāṇḍavas and their guests had spent the night in their mansions outside the city, they went the following day to greet Arjuna. With Dhṛtarāṣṭra at their head, they proceeded with a large number of Brahmins and citizens. In a short while, they saw the sacrificial horse, looking as beautiful as the celestial horse Ucchaisravas, followed by Arjuna on his blazing chariot.
Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers welcomed Arjuna with affection, praising his feat in subduing the world’s kings and bringing the horse back safely. Kṛṣṇa embraced him and went with him into his mansion, where they spent a pleasant evening together.
When the day of the sacrifice arrived, Vyāsadeva came to Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “The time for the sacrifice has come. The priests await you. O King, you should make offerings three times greater than are required by the ordinance. Give three times the required charity to the priests at the end. In this way, you will acquire the merit of three Ashvamedhas. This will certainly free you from any sin that may have accrued from the war.
Attended by Kṛṣṇa and thousands of kings, the sacrifice was duly performed according to the instructions of Vyāsadeva and Dhaumya. Everyone present considered it no less magnificent than the Rājasūya had been years before. When it was complete, and the time had come to give dakṣiṇa, Yudhiṣṭhira offered the entire earth to Vyāsadeva, saying, “O great sage, this is the proper dakṣiṇa ordained for this sacrifice. Take this earth, conquered by Arjuna, and divide it among the ṛṣis. I will enter the forest, for I cannot take the property of Brahmins.”
The crowd buzzed with excitement at Yudhiṣṭhira’s announcement. Everyone applauded him. Even the gods praised him. Vyāsadeva, pleased, replied, “The earth is now mine. O King, I now give it back to you. What need does an ascetic have for this world? How can Brahmins rule the world? Take it back and rule over it as enjoined by scripture.”
Hearing Kṛṣṇa confirming Vyāsadeva’s words, Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “Let it be so.” He then arranged for all the golden sacrificial utensils to be distributed among the Brahmins, along with heaps of gems and millions of milking cows. The frugal Brahmins accepted only enough for their survival. Large amounts of wealth were left, which Yudhiṣṭhira then distributed to the kṣatriyas, vaiśyās and śūdras. No one attending the sacrifice left without a valuable gift, and everyone went home praising Yudhiṣṭhira.
Kṛṣṇa and His followers stayed for a few days after the sacrifice, enjoying the Pāṇḍavas’ company. Then, after being worshipped by Yudhiṣṭhira, they returned to Dwārakā. Yudhiṣṭhira now felt free of sin. Having made arrangements for the world to be properly governed by pious kings, he continued to live happily with his brothers in Hastināpura.
* * *
The years passed quickly for the Pāṇḍavas after the sacrifice. Although they thought constantly of Gāndhārī’s curse, dreading the day that Kṛṣṇa would leave the world, they treated her and her old husband with the highest respect. Dhṛtarāṣṭra felt as if he was lord of the earth. Hundreds of servants waited upon him and provided him with anything he desired. All the kings who came to Hastināpura with tribute for Yudhiṣṭhira were asked to offer their respects and worship to Dhṛtarāṣṭra. The blind monarch, receiving treatment like Indra in heaven, forgot his grief and was happy. Gāndhārī was also attended and served with respect by Kuntī and Draupadī, as well as Ulūpī, Citrāṅgadā, and the other Pāṇḍava ladies.
With the exception of Bhīma, Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers acted toward Dhṛtarāṣṭra like disciples toward their guru. Seeing their humility and obedience to his commands, Dhṛtarāṣṭra regarded the brothers like his own sons. He felt only shame when he remembered Duryodhana, who had destroyed their family and had never been so respectful toward him as were Pāṇḍu’s sons .
But Bhīma could not forget the ills the Pāṇḍavas had experienced at the Kauravas’ hands. Unable to forgive the blind king, he reluctantly offered him respect, but inwardly seethed at seeing the royal treatment accorded him by Yudhiṣṭhira. Dhṛtarāṣṭra also could not feel much love for Bhīma, who had killed his sons. He tried to offer the Pāṇḍava his blessings, but his mind was still filled with malice toward him.
Through his own servants, Bhīma arranged for many deeds that were disagreeable to Dhṛtarāṣṭra. He caused the commands of the old Kuru chief to be disobeyed and looked for opportunities to give him pain. Out of anger he would stand within Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s hearing and utter hurtful words. Slapping his arms, he would say, “With these two mace-like arms I have crushed all the blind king’s sons. Due to coming within the reach of these arms, the wicked Kauravas have all been dispatched to Death’s abode.” Or he would speak other words offensive to Dhṛtarāṣṭra.
Although hurt by Bhīma’s words, Dhṛtarāṣṭra said nothing about the situation to Yudhiṣṭhira. He felt too indebted to the Pāṇḍava king to disturb him in any way. Gāndhārī also tolerated Bhīma’s painful utterances, considering them the inevitable reactions to her and her husband’s past actions.
Thirty-five years went by with Yudhiṣṭhira ruling the world. The Pāṇḍavas thought always of Kṛṣṇa and became increasingly concerned as the day approached when Gāndhārī’s curse would take effect. Seeing Parīkṣit grown into a powerful prince, exhibiting all virtuous qualities, they began to think of retiring. They knew that although death in battle was the best way for a kṣatriya to give up the body, death in the forest while practicing asceticism was an honorable second best. Pious kings always spent their last years in the forest seeking spiritual perfection.
One day, the Pāṇḍavas heard that Vidura had returned to Hastināpura. The Kuru minister had been gone for many years on pilgrimage, practicing austerities. Although the Pāṇḍavas occasionally received word of him, they had not seen him since he had left. They often remembered their uncle with affection. When he returned, they ran toward him, overwhelmed with happiness and love. One by one the five brothers fell at his feet and clasped them.
Vidura was met by Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Kṛpa, Sañjaya, Gāndhārī, Kuntī, Draupadī, and all the other palace residents. Vidura appeared emaciated by his long practice of asceticism, but he shone with spiritual energy. He had spent much time in the company of Brahmins, hearing extensive spiritual instructions from the powerful Maitreya Ṛṣi. Desiring to see Dhṛtarāṣṭra and the Pāṇḍavas before the end of his life, he had come for a final visit to Hastināpura.
Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers worshipped him with offerings of arghya and other auspicious items. After feeding him sumptuously, they had him seated in the royal assembly hall, where he would always sit when he had acted as Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s prime minister.
Recalling the many times that Vidura had helped them when they were young and suffering from Duryodhana’s antagonism, Yudhiṣṭhira sat at his feet and said, “My Uncle, do you remember how you always protected us, along with our mother, from calamity? Your partiality, like the wings of a bird covering her fledglings, saved us from destruction. While traveling across the earth, how did you maintain yourself? At which holy places did you render service?”
By his own developed spiritual power, Yudhiṣṭhira could understand that his uncle had achieved a high level of spiritual realization. Like himself, Vidura had always taken pleasure in hearing from ṛṣis and practicing asceticism. He had not been sorry to leave the city, but had accepted it as a providential arrangement for him to perfect his life.
Seeing that the old Kuru minister had achieved that perfection, Yudhiṣṭhira said with folded palms, “My lord, saints like your good self are holy places personified. Because you carry the Personality of Godhead within your heart, you turn every place into a place of pilgrimage.”
Yudhiṣṭhira asked Vidura what he had seen on his long pilgrimage, and Vidura gradually described everything. Having become self-realized, he was experiencing the highest transcendental happiness and was ready to give up his material body and assume his eternal spiritual identity. Out of compassion for his brother Dhṛtarāṣṭra, however, whom he could understand was still materially attached, he decided to remain for some time in the city first. Realizing that the blind king was fast approaching the end of his life while still living in spiritual ignorance, Vidura wanted to instruct him one last time in order to break his attachments to sense pleasure.
A few days later, Vidura found an opportunity to speak with Dhṛtarāṣṭra. In the presence of all the Pāṇḍavas and their wives, he addressed him with strong words. “My dear king, you should get out of here immediately. Do not delay. Just see how fear has overtaken you.”
Vidura sarcastically addressed Dhṛtarāṣṭra as king. Since arriving back in Hastināpura, he had understood the situation. He saw how Dhṛtarāṣṭra was enjoying the respect and honor Yudhiṣṭhira offered him, and considered himself king. Now, as he faced the last years of his life, he was becoming afraid. Death would take from him all his power, and where would he go? So many sins had been perpetrated under his rule. Vidura was frank. “This frightful situation cannot be remedied by any person in this material world. My lord, the Supreme Personality of Godhead in his form as eternal time has approached us. Whoever is under the influence of supreme time must surrender his dear life, what to speak of his wealth, honor, children, land and home. Your father, brother, well-wishers and sons are all dead. You have expended the major portion of your life. You are invalid and you are living in another’s home. Decrepitude is fast overpowering you, yet still you try to enjoy life, living at Bhīma’s expense.”
Vidura had seen the tension between Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Bhīma. He mentioned it to provide the necessary impetus for Dhṛtarāṣṭra to renounce his position and to practice asceticism.
Trying to invoke Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s shame and also his self-respect, Vidura continued, “Your life is little better than that of a household dog. What need is there to live such a life, subsisting as you do on the charity of those you tried to kill by arson and poisoning? You insulted their wife and usurped their kingdom and wealth. Now you are dependent on them. O Bharata leader, despite your unwillingness to die and your desire to live even at the cost of your honor, your miserly body will certainly deteriorate like an old garment. Nothing in this world is permanent.”
The Pāṇḍavas listened in silence. Vidura was as sharp as ever. Yudhiṣṭhira reflected on his profound counsel. If only Dhṛtarāṣṭra had been wise enough to take it years ago, how different things might have been. Surely now, though, Dhṛtarāṣṭra would heed his brother’s words. He had absolutely nothing left for which to live.
“That man is called undisturbed who goes to an unknown, remote place and, freed from all ties, quits his material body when it has become useless. He is certainly a first-class man who awakens and understands, either by himself or from others, the falsity and misery of the material world and thus leaves home, depending fully on the Personality of Godhead residing in his heart. Please, therefore, leave for the northern hills immediately. Soon the iron age of Kali will set in, and the atmosphere will be opposed to the practice of spiritual life.”
Vidura’s words cut into Dhṛtarāṣṭra. The old king silently digested his instructions. As always, his intelligent minister spoke the truth. What was the point of continuing his useless and broken life? Certainly no auspicious destinations were achieved by the man who attempted to enjoy his senses until the last minute of his life. As Vidura correctly pointed out, where was his shame? How had he continued to live in the Pāṇḍavas’ house after everything he had done to them? And the unforgiving Bhīma took every opportunity to remind him of that.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra felt his attachment and fear give way to detachment. He made up his mind to leave for the forest. Knowing that Yudhiṣṭhira would not easily accede to him going alone as an ascetic into the wild, he did not reply to Vidura. His departure would have to be secret. He folded his palms and bowed his head to his brother, calling for his servants to take him to his chamber.
Vidura followed his brother, leading Gāndhārī back to the chamber. He spoke alone with them and arranged a day when they would leave for the forest together. Vidura too desired to end his days while practicing asceticism. Wanting to avoid scenes of grief and difficult farewells, they decided to leave secretly on the next full moon night.
* * *
In his assembly hall, Yudhiṣṭhira thought of Vidura. It had been months since Vidura had delivered his instructions to Dhṛtarāṣṭra, and neither of them had been seen since. Dhṛtarāṣṭra had left instructions that he did not want to be disturbed, being attended only by Sañjaya and one or two other intimate servants. Yudhiṣṭhira guessed that he had wanted to be alone with Vidura and receive further instructions. Perhaps he would think of retiring to the forest. But today was the annual śraddhā ceremony in honor of his sons. He would surely wish to be present.
Yudhiṣṭhira decided to go and see him. Accompanied by his brothers, he made his way to Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s quarters in the palace gardens. The fragrance of exotic blossoms carried on the warm breeze as he walked through the manicured lawns and flower beds. Varieties of birds filled the air with delightful sounds, and beautiful maidservants sat in groups around lotus-filled ponds.
The brothers entered Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s chamber and found Sañjaya sitting alone. Seeing his despondent expression, Yudhiṣṭhira felt anxious. Yudhiṣṭhira could understand that Dhṛtarāṣṭra had left. “O Sañjaya, where is our old uncle? Where is my well-wisher, Uncle Vidura, and my mother Gāndhārī, who is afflicted still due to her sons’ demise? My uncle Dhṛtarāṣṭra was also mortified due to the death of his sons and grandsons. That great man took care of us when we were rendered fatherless as children. Undoubtedly, I am ungrateful, for I repaid him by killing his sons. Has he taken my offenses seriously and, along with his wife, finally drowned himself in the Ganges?”
That Dhṛtarāṣṭra had gone without telling him filled him with sorrow. Out of humility the Pāṇḍava king considered that it could only be due to his own offenses. With tears welling up in his eyes, he looked at Sañjaya, who covered his face with his hands and said nothing. The old charioteer was grief-stricken and unable to speak. His master had left without saying anything even to him.
Sañjaya gradually pacified his mind with his own intelligence and wiped away his tears. Looking up at Yudhiṣṭhira he said, “My dear descendent of the Kuru dynasty, I have no information about your two uncles and Gāndhārī. O King, I have been cheated by those great souls. Although I remained Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s obedient and most confidential servant, he has gone without telling me anything.”
Yudhiṣṭhira looked at Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s altar, where he had sat each night with Gāndhārī, making offerings to the deities. The sacrificial fire had gone out and the deities had been removed. Controlling his sorrow, Yudhiṣṭhira moved closer to the distraught Sañjaya and gently consoled him.
At that moment, Nārada Ṛṣi suddenly appeared before them. Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers, along with Sañjaya, offered their obeisances at his feet. Obviously, he had come with a message. After offering him a seat, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O godly personality, I do not know where my two uncles have gone. Nor can I find my ascetic aunt who is grief-stricken by the loss of her sons. Without doubt, you know everything, including even the Lord’s plan. Please soothe our sorrow with your profound words.”
Nārada replied, “O pious king, do not lament for anyone, for everyone is under the Supreme Lord’s control. Therefore, all living beings should worship only Him to be well-protected. As a bull, bound through its nose, is held fast, so all men are bound by God’s laws. Even as a player sets up and disperses his playthings according to his own will, so the supreme will of the Lord brings men together and disperses them. O King, in all circumstances, whether you consider the soul to be an eternal principle or not, or everything to exist in some impersonal absolute, or to be an inexplicable combination of matter and spirit, feelings of separation are due only to illusory affection and nothing more.”
Nārada looked compassionately at the Pāṇḍavas. Knowing them to be important instruments in the Lord’s arrangements, he had often come to them with his instructions. The brothers listened in respect as he reassured them with eternal truths from the Vedas. He told them to give up their anxiety for Dhṛtarāṣṭra, which was based on ignorance. They could do nothing for the blind king now. Every living being was moved by the force of God and should therefore depend on Him alone. Ultimately, no man could protect or shelter another unless it was also the Lord’s desire. Even the man who wanted to give shelter to another was himself in need of protection, being held in the jaws of inevitable death. Thus all intelligent men should worship the Lord as their only assurance of safety.
Nārada continued, “The Supreme Person, Kṛṣṇa, in the guise of all-devouring time, has now descended on earth to eliminate the atheistic demons from the world. His work is almost complete and He will soon depart. You Pāṇḍavas may wait here simply as long as the Lord remains on earth.”
Nārada then informed the Pāṇḍavas that Dhṛtarāṣṭra, accompanied by his wife and Vidura, had gone to the southern side of the Himālayas to a mountain where there were many ashrams. He had engaged in mystic yoga, bringing his mind and senses under control. Soon he would attain samadhi and leave his material body, burning it to ashes by invoking the fire element from within himself. Gāndhārī would enter the fire and follow him to his next destination. Then Vidura, seized both by delight and grief at his brother’s departure, would himself leave that place to end his own days.
Nārada stopped speaking and indicated that he was ready to leave. After being worshipped by the Pāṇḍavas, he rose into the sky and vanished. Yudhiṣṭhira thought about what he had said. It was glorious that Dhṛtarāṣṭra had accepted such an end to his life. There was no point in lamenting, nor was there any need to fear that he might have taken offense. The old king had given up material affinities. He would no longer be thinking of material relationships and the politics associated with them. As Nārada had made clear, Dhṛtarāṣṭra was meditating on his pure spiritual identity, free of mundane attachments.
As the Pāṇḍavas made their way back to their palace, they met Vyāsadeva. He told them that Kuntī had also gone with Dhṛtarāṣṭra. The brothers were moved by grief to hear the news, but it was not a surprise. For a long time their mother had withdrawn herself from the world. Since she had prayed to Kṛṣṇa that day He had left for Dwārakā, she had been spending her days in meditation and prayer. She had eaten frugally, finally coming to the point where she took her food once every thirty days. Now she was gone. Thinking again of Nārada’s instructions, and of all the wisdom they had heard from the other ṛṣis, they controlled their minds. Their mother had acted rightly. It was always the accepted custom to leave for the forest without announcement. After all, death never made announcements when it arrived.
2.35: The Pāṇḍavas Retire
As the thirty-sixth year of Yudhiṣṭhira’s rule approached, Arjuna visited Dwārakā. He knew Kṛṣṇa’s departure was close at hand, and he wanted to see Him one last time. His brothers were hoping that he might persuade Kṛṣṇa to make a final visit to Hastināpura. Maybe Kṛṣṇa could even be convinced to counter Gāndhārī’s curse and remain on earth. Surely that was within His power.
Arjuna had been gone for a few months and Yudhiṣṭhira began to observe inauspicious omens. The seasons appeared out of order, and men were abandoning their prescribed duties. There were constant disputes arising between the citizens, and people were cheating each other everywhere. Seeing that the people were overwhelmed by pride, anger and greed, Yudhiṣṭhira spoke to Bhīma.
“My dear brother, it is now some time since Arjuna left for Dwārakā. I see many portents which indicate that a great calamity has occurred. Has the time for Kṛṣṇa’s departure arrived, as the godly Ṛṣi Nārada indicated? What else could account for the many signs of irreligion which we now see? All our good fortune and everything auspicious has come only from Kṛṣṇa. In His absence, everything will be lost.”
Yudhiṣṭhira pointed out to Bhīma the various omens he had witnessed: the jackals that howled at the rising sun, the dogs that barked fearlessly at him, his horses that appeared to weep. He could hear the shrieks of crows and owls at all times, and thunder constantly filled the sky. The earth seemed to tremble and the wind blew violently, carrying clouds of dust. Deities in the temple seemed to cry and perspire. It appeared as if they were about to leave.
Yudhiṣṭhira concluded, “I think that all these disturbances indicate a great loss to the earth’s good fortune. The world was fortunate to have been marked with the Lord’s footprints. These signs indicate that this will no longer be.”
Even as Yudhiṣṭhira spoke, a messenger came to inform him that Arjuna had returned. Yudhiṣṭhira had him enter at once and Arjuna was soon bowing at his feet and embracing him. Yudhiṣṭhira saw that he was dejected. Tears flowed from his eyes and his face was pale. He could barely look at his brother.
Feeling even more disquieted, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “My dear brother, please tell me whether our friends and relatives in Dwārakā are all passing their days in happiness. Is my respectable grandfather, Surasena, happy? Are my maternal uncle Vasudeva and his younger brothers doing well? Are Ugrasena and his younger brother still living? How are Hridika and his son, Kṛtavarmā? Are Akrūra, Jayanta, Gada, Sāraṇa and Satrajit all happy? How is Balarāma, the Personality of Godhead and the protector of all devotees?”
Yudhiṣṭhira went on naming their friends in Dwārakā and asking after their welfare. The Pāṇḍavas had often visited Dwārakā and spent happy days there. After listing the chief residents of Kṛṣṇa’s city, Yudhiṣṭhira finally asked about Kṛṣṇa. “Is Lord Kṛṣṇa, the original Supreme Person, who is always affectionate toward His devotees, enjoying the pious assembly at Dwārakā surrounded by His friends? That all-powerful person, along with Balarāma, who is the primeval Lord Ananta, is staying in the ocean of the Yadu dynasty for the welfare, protection and general progress of the entire universe. The members of the Yadu dynasty, being protected by the Lord’s arms, enjoy life like the residents of the eternal spiritual world. Under Kṛṣṇa’s protection, they live without fear, surpassing even the gods in their power and opulence.”
Looking at Arjuna’s downcast face, Yudhiṣṭhira asked if he was well. Although the Pāṇḍava king suspected that Kṛṣṇa and His family had departed, he continued to inquire from Arjuna, hoping that there was some other reason for his brother’s moroseness.
“My brother Arjuna, please tell me whether your health is all right. You appear to have lost your luster. Is this due to others disrespecting and neglecting you because of your long stay at Dwārakā? Has someone addressed you with unfriendly words or threatened you? Could you not give charity to one who asked, or could you not keep your promise to someone? Could you, a great protector of the people, not give protection to some helpless persons when they approached you for shelter? Have you contacted a woman of questionable character, or have you not properly treated a deserving woman? Have you been defeated on the way by someone who is inferior or equal to you? Have you committed an unpardonable or abominable mistake?” Yudhiṣṭhira paused, not wanting to express his greatest fear. Bhīma and the twins shed tears as they too guessed the truth. After a moment of silence, Yudhiṣṭhira concluded, “Or, my dear brother, are you now feeling empty for all time because you have lost your most intimate friend, Lord Kṛṣṇa? O my brother Arjuna, I can think of no other reason for your becoming so sorrowful.”
Arjuna could not reply. His mouth was dry and his limbs trembled. He buried his face in his hands and wept. At last he managed to check his tears and said, “O King, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Kṛṣṇa, who treated me like an intimate friend, has left me alone. Thus my incomparable power, which astonished even the demigods, is gone. I have just lost Him whose separation for a moment would render all the universes inauspicious and void, like bodies without life. Only by His merciful strength was I able to vanquish the lusty princes assembled at king Drupada’s svayaṁvara.”
Arjuna then described the many incidents where he had been able to achieve incredible feats of prowess due to Kṛṣṇa’s grace. Recounting the numerous occasions when the Pāṇḍavas had escaped from precarious and dangerous situations, Arjuna continued in a doleful voice. “The military strength of the Kauravas was like an ocean in which there dwelt many fearsome aquatics. It was insurmountable, but because of Kṛṣṇa’s friendship, I was able to cross it. Great generals like Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Karṇa and others all directed their invincible weapons against me. Yet by the Lord’s grace they could hardly touch a hair on my head. Surely it was only due to my lack of esteem for Him that I dared engage Him as my chariot driver, for He is worshipped and offered services by the best of men who desire to attain salvation.
“O King, His joking and frank talks were pleasing and beautifully decorated with smiles. His affectionate addresses unto me as ‘O Pārtha, O friend, O son of the Kuru dynasty’ and all such intimacies I now remember, and thus I am overwhelmed. We used to sleep, sit and loiter together. When we boasted about our chivalry, if He exaggerated, I would reproach Him by saying, ‘My friend, You are very truthful.’ Even in those hours when His value was minimized, He would tolerate my utterings, excusing me exactly as a friend excuses his friend or a father excuses his son.”
Arjuna broke off, unable to continue. His brothers all sat stupefied, also saying nothing. The unthinkable had finally happened and Kṛṣṇa had left. They listened as Arjuna, regaining his composure, went on to describe how, in Kṛṣṇa’s absence, he had been overpowered by a group of cowherds when he was trying to protect Kṛṣṇa’s wives.
Arjuna looked at his two hands. “Where has my wondrous power gone? I have the same Gāṇḍīva, the same arrows, the same chariot drawn by the same horses, and I use them as the same Arjuna to whom all kings offer their respects. But in Kṛṣṇa’s absence, all of them have at once become useless.”
Yudhiṣṭhira embraced his distraught brother. He sat him on a throne and had servants fan him. After Arjuna had sipped a little water, he told his brothers what had transpired in Dwārakā. “O King, since you have asked me about our friends and relatives in that holy city, I will inform you that all of them were afflicted by the Brahmins’ curse. As a result, they became intoxicated with wine and fought among themselves with sticks, not even recognizing one another. Now they are all dead.”
Arjuna related the details of the terrible event. He explained how years ago a number of boys in Dwārakā had played a joke on some powerful ṛṣis, headed by Nārada, when the sages were visiting the city. The boys had dressed up Kṛṣṇa’s son Sāmba as a woman and placed an iron ball under his clothes, making him appear pregnant. They had then asked the sages, “Will this lady give birth to a girl or a boy?” The ṛṣis, angered by the boys’ insolence, answered, “This one will give birth to an iron ball which will destroy your dynasty. Only Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma will survive.”
When the Yadu king, Ugrasena, heard about the curse, he had the iron ball ground into a powder and thrown into the ocean. Later, the Yadus observed fearful omens in Dwārakā. They saw the embodied form of Time, black and terrible, moving about the city. The powerful Yadu and Vrishni bowmen shot hundreds of thousands of arrows at him, but none could strike him. Day by day, stronger and stronger winds blew, and the streets swarmed with rats and mice. Earthen pots cracked with no visible cause, wells spewed out their water, and the bodies of men trembled. All sorts of inauspicious creatures--crows, owls and jackals--filled the air with their cries. Asses were born of cows and mules from elephants. Clean, well-cooked food, when served, was covered with worms. The heavy tread of running men was constantly heard, but no one could be observed running. The citizens committed sinful acts without shame. They disregarded the Brahmins, forgot to worship the temple deities, and insulted their elders and preceptors. Only Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma did not behave in these ways. When They observed the fearful portents and heard how the citizens were having frightening dreams, They called an assembly.
With everyone present, Kṛṣṇa said, “O leaders of the Yadu dynasty, please note these terrible omens that have appeared in Dwārakā, just like flags of Death. We should not remain here any longer. The women, children, and old men should leave the city and go to Sankhoddara. We ourselves will go to the holy Prabhāsa, where the river Sarasvatī flows toward the west. There we should bathe for purification, fast and fix our minds in meditation. Let us then worship the gods and present them with rich offerings. Then we should worship the Brahmins and offer them charity. In this way, we may be able to counteract what these signs portend.”
The assembly signaled their agreement and arrangements were made. The Yādava warriors mounted their chariots and set out for Prabhāsa, on the seacoast. The women traveled in their midst. When the procession reached Sankhoddara, halfway between Dwārakā and Prabhāsa, the women remained while the men continued.
With a loud blast of conchshells and the blare of thousands of trumpets the Yādavas arrived at Prabhāsa. They took up their residence in palaces and mansions and performed sacrifices to worship the gods. At the end of the second day, influenced by destiny, they drank large quantities of maireya wine, which had been prepared for the sacrifices. Intoxicated, they began to joke.
Sātyaki then insulted Kṛtavarmā, whom he had never forgiven for helping Aśvatthāmā kill the sleeping Pāṇḍava troops. In a mocking voice he said, “What kṣatriya possessed of prowess would kill men embraced by sleep? Were they not already dead? O son of Hridika, your action cannot be tolerated.”
Kṛtavarmā’s anger blazed. Pointing at Sātyaki with his left hand as a way to disregard him, he thundered, “Professing yourself a hero, how could you cruelly kill the armless Bhurisrava even as he sat in meditation with his weapons cast aside?”
Kṛṣṇa threw an angry glance at Kṛtavarmā. Sātyaki leapt to his feet. Pulling out his sword he bellowed, “I swear by truth that I will send Kṛtavarmā along the path taken by Dṛṣṭadyumna and Śikhaṇḍī. His life and fame have come to an end.”
Sātyaki ran at Kṛtavarmā, whose reflexes had been dulled by the wine, and with a sweep of his sword beheaded him. Kṛtavarmā’s friends then attacked Sātyaki and assailed him with iron cooking pots. Pradyumna came to his aid, and the two men stood back to back as a large number of warriors closed on them. Although they put up a brave fight, they were soon overwhelmed and slain.
When He saw His son Pradyumna killed, Kṛṣṇa became angry. He took up a handful of reeds that were growing nearby. The reeds had grown from the iron powder that had been cast into the ocean on Ugrasena’s order. They were like iron rods and Kṛṣṇa wielded them like deadly weapons. He quickly slew all the men who had killed His son.
Other Yādavas and Vrishnis took up their weapons and entered the fray. Soon a violent battle was raging. When their weapons had been smashed, they too took up the reeds. Bewildered by wine and influenced by Gāndhārī’s and the ṛṣis’ curses, they killed one another without compunction. Father killed son, son slew father, and brother killed brother. Like insects flying into a fire, they destroyed one another. In less than an hour, millions of men were dead. Only Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma survived, along with Dāruka, who carried the news back to Dwārakā.
Arjuna paused in his narration. His mind was confounded as he recounted the story. He knew that it had been Kṛṣṇa’s desire. The Lord had wanted His own family and followers to leave the world. With the onset of the Kali age, they might create a greater disturbance than the atheistic demons. After all, they were far more powerful than the demons. No one could have checked them. Only if they slew one another could they be killed.
Taking a deep breath, Arjuna continued. He described how Kṛṣṇa Himself had departed. When all the Yādavas and other warriors died, Kṛṣṇa had watched Balarāma sit down in meditation on the seashore. As Balarāma became absorbed in trance, the many-hooded divine serpent Ananta-sesha had come out of His mouth. Worshipped by Varuṇa and other gods, the serpent went toward the ocean and vanished.
Seeing Balarāma depart, Kṛṣṇa entered a nearby forest. He sat beneath a pippala tree in meditation. As He did so, the principal gods all approached Him invisibly. They all desired to see His last pastime on earth. Not far from where Kṛṣṇa sat there was a hunter. The man had caught a large fish and found in its belly a lump of iron, the last remnant of the iron ball thrown into the sea. With that lump he had fashioned an arrowhead. While hunting with the arrow, he came across Kṛṣṇa. By Kṛṣṇa’s own illusory energy, he mistook Kṛṣṇa’s foot to be an animal, seeing it from a distance through the bushes. He released the arrow and struck Kṛṣṇa’s foot, whereupon the Lord departed from the world, worshipped by the gods with Brahmā at their head.
Arjuna then told how Dāruka had returned to Dwārakā. He had been told that he would find Arjuna there and that he should ask him to take the women to Indraprastha. When Dāruka reached the city, he went to Kṛṣṇa’s father Vasudeva and told him the heartbreaking news. Along with Devakī, Vasudeva fell to the ground in a faint. Tormented by separation from Kṛṣṇa, they both gave up their lives.
Arjuna, who had only recently arrived in Dwārakā, was himself overpowered by sorrow when he heard what had happened, but he tried to follow Kṛṣṇa’s directions. He had first arranged for Vasudeva and Devakī’s funeral ceremonies, however. When the funeral pyre was ablaze, Vasudeva’s other wives entered the fire, rapt in thought of Kṛṣṇa.
Arjuna then traveled to Prabhāsa in order to perform the last rites for all the slain warriors. Millions of men had died, and it took weeks for Arjuna to arrange for funeral ceremonies for those who had no male members left in the family. The womenfolk were brought from Sankhoddhara, and as the cremations took place many widows entered the fire embracing their lords, thus attaining the same destinations reached by those men.
Finding Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma’s bodies, Arjuna marveled at the sight. Their bodies still shone with the same brilliant effulgence as They had in life. Arjuna could understand that it was not possible for Them to die. Their apparent death was simply a display of Kṛṣṇa’s illusory energy. Both Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma were manifestations of the original, transcendent Supreme. Arjuna concluded that the material bodies They left behind were simply meant to bewilder the faithless. The Lord was merciful even to those who desired to be atheists. Stupefied by grief and moving like a wooden doll, Arjuna arranged for expert priests to cremate the bodies of the two Lords. Rukmīṇī and Kṛṣṇa’s other principal queens ascended the funeral pyre and gave up their lives.
When all the funeral ceremonies were completed, Arjuna returned to Dwārakā. He arranged for the remaining women and children, and the Brahmins, vaiśyās, and śūdras, to be taken in chariots to Indraprastha. Kṛṣṇa had told Dāruka that the city would soon be inundated by the sea, and Arjuna was concerned to get everyone out first. They made a sorry procession, wailing and calling out Kṛṣṇa’s names as they left Dwārakā. Even while they were leaving the city, the ocean began to flood the land. Looking behind them they saw waves crashing into the great island fortress and swirling through its streets and houses.
The procession, bereft of heroes, proceeded by slow marches toward Indraprastha. After some days, they reached the Panchajala province. Arjuna decided to camp there for a while. The region was infested with robbers, and when they saw the thousands of richly adorned ladies from Dwārakā, they decided to attack the camp. Coming together in a force, the robbers, dressed as cowherds, rushed at the camp with loud cries. Armed with clubs and bows, they fell upon the ladies and led them away, looting as they went.
Arjuna mounted his chariot and rode toward them, calling out, “O sinful wretches, stop at once. Flee from here now if you have any love of life. Wait only a moment and I will cut your bodies to pieces.”
Urged by destiny, the robbers disregarded Arjuna and carried on with their plundering. Arjuna raised his Gāṇḍīva but, to his amazement, he found himself barely able to string it. His strength seemed to have disappeared. With great difficulty he drew back the bow and fired his arrows, but they fell short of their targets. The Pāṇḍava then tried to invoke the celestial weapons, but they would not appear. In frustration and anger he ran after the robbers and struck them with his bow, but despite his efforts, he was unable to prevent them from taking away many of the Yadu ladies.
Sighing with sorrow, Arjuna could understand that it was somehow the Lord’s arrangement. Now that Kṛṣṇa had departed, his great power had vanished. In a state of complete dejection, he resumed the march toward Indraprastha. When they arrived at the city, Arjuna installed Vajra, the son of Kṛṣṇa’s son Aniruddha, as king. Still only a boy, the prince had not gone to Prabhāsa with the older kṣatriyas. He was filled with grief for the death of all his relatives, but counseled by learned Brahmins, he began to rule over the city.
Once he had ensured that everything was in order, Arjuna decided to return to Hastināpura to see Yudhiṣṭhira. As he was about to leave, he heard that Vyāsadeva was present in a hermitage near the city and went to visit him. Falling at his feet, Arjuna shed tears, unable to speak.
As Arjuna lay there almost devoid of life, Vyāsadeva said, “O child, what is the cause of this sorrow? Have you accidentally slain a Brahmin or been defeated in battle? Did you know an untouchable woman or have you fallen in some other way from religious practices? I do not think any of this possible. You should tell me what ails you, O son of Pṛthā, if you feel able.”
Regaining his composure, Arjuna knelt before the ṛṣi. In agony he said, “O great sage, He whose complexion resembled a dark cloud, whose eyes were like a pair of lotus petals, has, together with the lordly Rāma, left this world. At Prabhāsa, through iron bolts created by the Brahmins’ curse, all the Vrishni heroes have been slain. Not a single one escaped. Those mighty men killed one another in a fit of anger.”
Arjuna broke down and wept as he thought of Kṛṣṇa and His many friends. The slaughter at Prabhāsa reminded him of the awful night at Kurukṣetra when Aśvatthāmā had slain the sleeping Pāṇḍavas. Arjuna had lost so many of his family members and friends at that time, and now the remainder of his friends were gone. There was nothing left for which to live.
“O Brahmin, just see the perverse course of time. Thinking of this tragedy I cannot find peace of mind. Kṛṣṇa’s death is as incredible as the drying up of the ocean, the falling down of heaven, or the splitting of Mount Himavat. Without Him I cannot maintain my life. And there is yet another calamity which rends my heart.”
Arjuna related how he had been unable to protect the Yadu ladies from the robbers. “Right before my eyes, thousands of women were carried away by robbers from the Abhiras tribe. I could do nothing. Alas, this is surely due to Kṛṣṇa’s absence. How can I drag on my useless existence without Him? He who used to drive my chariot, that divine one gifted with splendor and unfading power, that unlimited Govinda—I will no longer see Him. I am filled with despair and my head swims. I dare not live without the heroic Janārdana. As soon as I heard He had gone, my eyes dimmed and I could no longer see anything. O best of men, please tell me what is best for me now, a wanderer with an empty heart, bereft of my kinsmen and friends.”
Vyāsadeva replied, “Do not grieve. Everything has been ordained by the Lord. Kṛṣṇa allowed it to happen, although He was capable of preventing it. Indeed, Govinda could alter the course of the universe—what then of a curse? He who sat upon your chariot and guided you through every calamity was the all-powerful Supreme Himself. Having lightened the earth’s burden, He has now ended His human-like pastimes. Through you and your brothers He has achieved the work of the gods. You are crowned with success, for you have pleased the immortal and inconceivable Keśava. Surely now you should think of your own departure. When the hour of adversity arrives, everything is lost. Thus one’s prowess, understanding and vision all disappear. This is due only to the influence of irresistible time. Do not lament, O hero. The time has come when you Pāṇḍavas should attain the highest end. This is what I consider most beneficial.”
Consoled by Vyāsadeva’s words, Arjuna took his permission and left for Hastināpura.
* * *
When Arjuna finished his narration, his four brothers were stunned. They thought only of Kṛṣṇa. None could contemplate life without Him. Tears ran down their faces. Distraught, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O best of men, we should understand that time is cooking all creatures in a cauldron. Even the invincible Vrishnis have been rooted out. Even Kṛṣṇa has left. Now we should act upon Vyāsadeva’s instructions. There is no point in remaining here. Indeed, the dark age of Kali is already making its entrance. Just see how the citizens are becoming sinful, driven by the influence of the age. We should depart, for the powerful Parīkṣit, who is ever-protected by the Lord, is qualified to rule the earth.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s brothers agreed. They knew it was time for them to retire. Parīkṣit could replace them. Yudhiṣṭhira conferred with the Brahmins and decided upon a day when he would leave for the forest. When the citizens heard of his determination, they cried out in sorrow and tried to dissuade him, but Yudhiṣṭhira’s mind would not be changed. On an auspicious day, he installed Parīkṣit as king, and Kṛpa as his chief counselor.
The five brothers distributed wealth to the Brahmins, performed rituals in honor of Kṛṣṇa, and gave away heaps of gold and gems in His name. When all the ceremonies were complete, Yudhiṣṭhira took off his royal garments and ornaments and dressed in tree bark. His brothers followed his example. The five of them came out of the royal palace looking like five ascetics. The people cried in grief and were reminded of the terrible day when the brothers had been exiled. This time, they would not return.
Ignoring the citizens’ cries, Yudhiṣṭhira walked toward the northern gate, his four brothers close behind. Draupadī, seeing her husbands’ resolve, hurried along behind them. She had never been separated from her husbands, even when they entered the forest, and she would have died of unbearable grief had she been left behind. After bidding her last, tearful farewells to Subhadrā and the other Pāṇḍava ladies, who were all given to the constant practice of asceticism and prayer, she set her mind upon renunciation. Like her husbands, her mind was filled with joy as she left the city for the final great journey to the north.
Accepting simple food and water only once a day, the brothers and Draupadī walked steadily toward the Himālayas. They spoke with no one and remained absorbed in thoughts of Kṛṣṇa. After many days traveling, they reached a great lake at the foot of the mountains. As they approached the lake, they saw ahead of them Agni’s brilliant form. The deity addressed them in a booming voice. “O foremost of Kuru’s race, listen to my words. I am the god of fire whom Arjuna pleased at Khāṇḍava. At that time I gave him the Gāṇḍīva. He should now return it. Let him cast it, along with the two inexhaustible quivers, into these waters and Varuṇa will take it back.”
Arjuna bowed to Agni and took his bow and quivers from his shoulder. He had not been able to leave them behind, but now, on Agni’s order, he threw them into the water. Agni then disappeared and the brothers continued their journey, seeing in the distance the cloud-covered peak of Mount Himavat. Eventually passing that great mountain, they crossed over a desert and came at last to Mount Meru where lay the abode of the gods. As they made their way through the hilly region, they were joined by a dog, who stayed with them day and night. Soon they reached the foothills of Gandhamādana Mountain, where they had spent much of their exile. They bowed down and offered prayers to the sacred mountain, then began their ascent.
The brothers had been walking for months, and their bodies were emaciated. Weakened and weary, they climbed with difficulty. Suddenly, as they were ascending a steep mountain pass, Draupadī fell to the ground and gave up her life. Bhīma, who was walking immediately behind Yudhiṣṭhira, said, “O crusher of enemies, although she never committed any sinful deeds, the delicate princess has fallen to the earth. Tell me why she has been obliged to drop down here.” Without stopping or looking back, Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “Although married to all five of us, Pāñcālī was always partial to Arjuna. This is why she has fallen.”
After they climbed a little farther, Sahadeva fell and died. Bhīma again asked Yudhiṣṭhira why his virtuous brother had fallen. Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “Gifted with knowledge, he always considered himself without compare in wisdom. For this reason he has fallen.”
Leaving Sahadeva where he lay, the four brothers continued upwards, still followed by the dog. Soon Nakula, overpowered by sorrow upon seeing Draupadī and Sahadeva die, himself fell. Once more Bhīma asked Yudhiṣṭhira to explain. “Our righteous brother was the most intelligent of men. However, he felt himself matchless in bodily beauty, and thus he has fallen.”
Arjuna was the next to fall, grief-stricken to see his brothers and Draupadī die. In sorrow Bhīma asked Yudhiṣṭhira why the ever-truthful Arjuna had fallen. “Just before the war, Arjuna had promised to kill all the Kauravas in a single day. For failing to keep this promise, made out of pride, he has been obliged to fall to the earth.”
The remaining two brothers and the dog continued their ascent. Before reaching the summit, Bhīma fell. As he was lying on the ground, about to give up his life, he asked Yudhiṣṭhira what had been his fault. Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “O Vṛkodara, you were a great eater and you did not consider others while eating. Thus have you fallen.”
Fixing his mind in yogic meditation, Yudhiṣṭhira went on alone. As he approached the summit he heard a great sound fill the sky. He looked up and saw Indra’s chariot descending toward him. “Climb onto my car, O Bharata, and I will take you to heaven.”
Yudhiṣṭhira bowed to the god. “I have no desire for heaven, O Śakra, nor can I leave my brothers and chaste wife Draupadī behind. They have all fallen on this mountain.”
Indra assured him that he would soon see his wife and brothers in their self-same bodies, but Yudhiṣṭhira was still unwilling to leave. “See here this dog,” he said, pointing to the animal that was ever at his heels. “It has taken shelter of me and cannot be abandoned. O great god, I will only accompany you if you allow it to also come.”
Indra replied that there was no place in heaven for dogs. He told Yudhiṣṭhira that there would be no sin in leaving it behind, but the Pāṇḍava would not agree. “It is my vow that I will never abandon one who is terrified, who seeks my shelter, who is devoted, who is afflicted or weak, or who begs for life. I cannot leave this creature here.”
Despite Indra’s entreaties, Yudhiṣṭhira would not leave the dog. Suddenly, before Yudhiṣṭhira’s eyes, the animal transformed into the god of justice, Dharmarāja. Seeing his father, Yudhiṣṭhira fell to the ground in obeisance. Dharmarāja raised him up and said, “O king of kings, there are none on earth who can display such virtue. Formerly, I examined you at the Dwaitavana, and again today I have found you to be the greatest exponent of morality. What to speak of the earth, there is no one in heaven who equals you. Unending regions of celestial bliss await you, O King. Quickly, mount Indra’s car.”
Yudhiṣṭhira ascended Indra’s chariot. As it rose swiftly into the sky, he was surrounded by celestial beings who praised both himself and Indra. He also saw the godly sage Nārada floating in space by his own divine power. The ṛṣi said, “This royal sage Yudhiṣṭhira has transcended the achievements of all other kings in heaven. Covering the worlds with his fame and splendor, he has attained the highest region in his human body. Who else has ever been known to achieve such a feat?”
The chariot entered the heavenly planets and, as it descended into a shining mansion, Yudhiṣṭhira saw Duryodhana seated on a golden throne. He turned to Nārada in surprise and the ṛṣi said, “This king has reached heaven by virtue of his kṣatriya practices. He fought fearlessly and gave up his body in battle. Thus he has been promoted to this abode, where he will remain for some time.”
Yudhiṣṭhira asked where his brothers had gone. He had no wish to remain in heaven, being not attracted to celestial pleasures. Even on earth he had given up his material attachments and desires for sensual enjoyment, preferring instead the transcendental service of the Supreme Lord, Kṛṣṇa. That service had given him a sublime pleasure thousands of times superior to material happiness. Yudhiṣṭhira looked with disdain at the heavenly opulences Duryodhana was enjoying. His only desire was to remain in Kṛṣṇa’s association along with his brothers and Draupadī. Like himself, they too were devoted to the loving service of Kṛṣṇa, and he longed to be with them again. Duryodhana could keep heaven, Yudhiṣṭhira thought. Without Kṛṣṇa and His servants, it would be no different than hell.
Indra commanded the celestials to take Yudhiṣṭhira to his brothers and Draupadī. They led the Pāṇḍava on a path away from heaven. As they proceeded, they were suddenly enveloped by darkness. Through the gloom, Yudhiṣṭhira could see wastelands covered with rotting corpses. The air was filled with a fetid smell, and flies, wasps, and gnats flew about. A blazing fire bounded the region. Yudhiṣṭhira saw crows and vultures with iron beaks, and evil spirits with needle-like mouths. He saw a river of boiling water full of screaming people, and another of feces and mucus. Trees with razor-sharp leaves lined the path, which was becoming hot as Yudhiṣṭhira traveled upon it. Looking around he saw men being tortured.
Astonished by what he was seeing, Yudhiṣṭhira asked the guides, “What place is this? Why have you brought me to hell? I wish to see my brothers and Draupadī.”
The messengers replied, “We have brought you here at Indra’s command, O Bharata, according to your own desire. If you wish to return, we will leave.”
Yudhiṣṭhira asked to be returned to Indra, and they turned to head back. Just as he did so, he heard voices all around him. “O King, do not leave us! By your presence we are feeling our suffering relieved. Cool breezes blow and our minds are made peaceful by seeing you.”
Yudhiṣṭhira called out, “Who are you and why do you stay here?”
“I am Bhīma!” “I am Arjuna!” “I am Nakula!” “I am Sahadeva!” the voices called back. Yudhiṣṭhira heard Draupadī’s name, as well as that of Dṛṣṭadyumna and other virtuous kings and princes who had followed him on earth. Shocked, he said to his guides, “What perverse destiny is this, that these virtuous men are in hell? I do not believe my senses. Surely this is a hallucination. Am I asleep or awake? Have I become insane or am I simply dreaming? O celestials, hearing the voices of my brothers and friends, I cannot leave this place. Indeed, they have asked me to stay and give them comfort. Therefore, go back to your own abode and leave me here.”
The celestials accompanying Yudhiṣṭhira disappeared, leaving him to his thoughts. He could not understand why his brothers were in hell. As he stood in amazement, he suddenly saw Indra and the other principal gods approaching him. By their bodily radiance the whole region was lit up. All the gruesome sights of hell disappeared and were replaced by heavenly landscapes. Yudhiṣṭhira saw that he was standing in beautiful gardens of celestial flowers and blossoming trees. A cool, gentle breeze was blowing, carrying exquisite fragrances.
Indra addressed Yudhiṣṭhira, “O best of men, be peaceful. Neither you nor your brothers are in hell. Only by an act of deception have you all been shown that region. Every king and indeed every being living in the world of men will see hell, for none can perform only good deeds. Those whose piety is great will receive the fruits of their sins first and then will enjoy great happiness for a long time. Only a slight stain of sin touched you, O King, when you lied to kill Droṇa. For this you have seen hell, as have your brothers and friends. Now you may enjoy unending happiness.”
Indra told Yudhiṣṭhira that by performing the Rājasūya he had earned a place in heaven equal to that of Hariścandra, the celebrated king of ancient times who now shared the same opulence as Indra himself. Placing Yudhiṣṭhira on his chariot, Indra took him to his assembly hall. There Yudhiṣṭhira saw his brothers, exactly as he had known them, shining with splendor and surrounded by celestials--the Maruts, Vasus, Ashvins and Rudras. Draupadī was also there, appearing like the goddess Lakṣmī herself.
Yudhiṣṭhira was shown how all of the warriors who had died at Kurukṣetra had attained the heavens. Karṇa was residing in happiness with his father, Sūrya. Even the Kauravas had achieved auspicious lives for their performance of religious duties.
Leading the Pāṇḍava to a beautiful river of clear, gentle waters, Indra said, “Here flows the Gaṅgā, known in heaven as the Mandakini. Bathe in her waters, O King, and you will acquire a shining celestial form.”
Yudhiṣṭhira entered the water and emerged with a resplendent god-like form. All his grief and anxiety vanished. As he came out of the waters he was honored and worshipped by the Siddhas and Cāraṇas. He then saw Kṛṣṇa seated in Indra’s palace manifesting a four-armed form of astonishing beauty and splendor. Arjuna was worshipping Him. When Kṛṣṇa saw Yudhiṣṭhira, He smiled and lifted a hand to bless him.
Seeing Nārada nearby, Yudhiṣṭhira approached him and asked him how long he and his brothers would dwell in heaven. The sage replied that by their meritorious acts the Pāṇḍavas had earned an almost endless stay. “But you brothers are eternal associates of the all-powerful Lord Kṛṣṇa. Thus wherever He goes for His pastimes, you will also go. Indeed, for the good of all beings, Kṛṣṇa is forever appearing in some world to display His human-like activities. Just as you cannot be without Him, so He also desires to always be with you. Thus your stay in these regions will not be for long. It has only been to show you the destinations of those whom you knew on earth. Pure souls like you reside eternally with the Lord. Only by His illusory potency does it sometimes seem otherwise. Like a magician He creates the material universe, enters it for some time, then winds it up.”
Nārada concluded that the Lord’s only business was to bring all suffering souls back to their eternal positions as His loving servants. He only seemed to become involved in the affairs of the world, but in truth He was always aloof. Under illusion, men become bewildered and indulge in material pleasure, imagining themselves independent enjoyers. In reality, they were parts of the Supreme, dependent upon Him for everything. Actual happiness could only be found when one once again gave up His desires to be independent of God. God Himself, however, was obviously never influenced by His own illusion. His appearance in the world was to free people from their misconceptions and bring them back to Him.
“Those who are too attached to matter cannot understand this knowledge. They must remain in mortal spheres, sometimes coming to heaven and sometimes descending to hell. As long as one does not awaken his original, pure consciousness, realizing his eternal spiritual nature, he is bound in the cycle of birth and death. You Pāṇḍavas are fixed in service to Kṛṣṇa and are liberated. In bringing you to the material world, the Lord simply used you as His instruments. This is understood only by those who are free from illusion.”
Yudhiṣṭhira felt joy. He gazed at Kṛṣṇa. Surely nothing in heaven could compare with seeing Him. What then of assisting Him in a capacity as servant, friend, and even relative? Absorbed in transcendental happiness, Yudhiṣṭhira could not take his gaze from Kṛṣṇa. What worlds awaited him now? It did not matter. As long as Kṛṣṇa was present, he was ready to go anywhere.
END
(Continued ...)
(My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Brahmasree Krishna Dharma and Bramhasree Manmatha Dutt and I am most grateful to Swamyjis, Philosophic Scholars and Ascetic Org. for the collection of this great and wornderful Epic of the world. )
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