Dhananjaya-Chapter-2

 Dhananjaya-Chapter-2

 

Into a New Environment                                                                        

                                                                                                            (1)

 Even as we watched, a convoy of chariots drove up to Singh-Dwaar. They were suitably bedecked, which was befitting, as they bore distinguished members of the Kuru clan. Amongst those who formed the welcome party were Bhishm Pitamah, Uncle Vidur, Dhritraashtra -- the king of Hastinaapur, as also Duryodhan accompanied by some of his brothers – our paternal cousins. Uncle Vidur was the Prime Minister of Hastinapur. He was acknowledged by all those who came into contact with him as a master of jurisprudence. Although we did not know it then, he was to play a key role in our lives in the future. 

In their royal robes and finery, they struck a stark contrast to their guests as they descended from their chariots and approached us.

We were setting eyes on those of whom we had hitherto only heard accounts. Appropriate greetings were exchanged, even as the sages present introduced us, as also conveyed the news of the sad demise of my father and stepmother. Expectedly, this last news was received with brimming eyes by the three family seniors.

King Dhritraashtra clutched the urn containing my father’s ashes to his breast and lamented, “Oh Pandu! my younger brother!” His unseeing eyes discharged tears of grief. Uncle Vidur, too, dissolved in a flood of tears. There was not a dry eye amongst those present. For us, too, the moments of grief we had experienced some twenty days ago re-manifested themselves, as Bhishm Pitamah and Uncle Vidur embraced us brothers, overcome with emotion.

After some time, having regained his composure, Bhishm Pitamah said, “Come, let us all proceed to the Palace.” Pitamah insisted, too, that the sages also accompany us. We tried to adjust to the new normal and moved towards the chariots, with Vidur Kaka (as he was affectionately known) helping Dhritraashtra on his way.

Duryodhan, indicating us, had this rather tasteless comment to make, “Uncle Vidur, will these forest dwellers now come to stay with us in the Palace?”

“These aren’t forest dwellers, Duryodhan. They happen to be the sons of your uncle, the late Pandu Maharaj, erstwhile King of Hastinapur,” responded Kaka Vidur curtly.

I was immediately able to form my first impression regarding Duryodhan. To wit, that he was an arrogant, foolish and self-opinionated fellow. Being of a mind lacking stability, he was quite capable of blurting out anything anywhere, without a thought as to propriety. It was as though his knee jerk reaction to any random thought that germinated in his mind would immediately regurgitate itself through his tactless lips.

He seemed to me to possess a rather low level of comprehension. My assessment was immediately validated by Duryodhan blurting out to Kaka Vidur, “Where have these people suddenly sprung from? We’d heard nothing about them in all these years past.”

Kaka Vidur, quite plainly nettled, said, “This is not the time for this kind of talk, Duryodhan. Let’s discuss all this once we’re at the Palace.”

Bu it took King Dhritraashtra’s commanding tone, “Duryodhan, calm down,” to silence my cousin. By now, we had reached and boarded the chariots.

It did not take the chariots long to transport us to the Royal Palace. As was only to be expected, it was a vast and far-flung edifice. The sages were accommodated in the guest rooms, while Kaka Vidur escorted us to the chambers in the interiors of the Palace.

The news of the demise of my father and stepmother had permeated the inner sanctum sanctorum. The Palace’s interiors were divided into several portions, each of which were independent dwelling units in themselves. These were laid out around captivating gardens featuring redolent flowers and mini streams, which contributed to making the atmosphere charming and soothing.

We entered a chamber that was, as we learnt, used for intra-family consultations. Awaiting us there were our two grandmothers Ambika and Ambalika, as also our great grandmother Satyavati. Queen Gandhari was also present, and tearful eyes and sympathetic looks were directed at us by all of them. This was quite understandable as, in the death of King Pandu and his wife Madri, each of those present had lost kith and kin! Also, they were meeting Mother Kunti after a long interval, so their emotiveness was truly understandable.

After our meeting, we were ushered to one of the dwelling units. It appeared not to have been in use, for some time past. The dwelling unit Mother Kunti had occupied as Queen was now occupied by Queen Gandhari. 

We had been enthralled by the grandeur and majesty of the Palace when we entered it, but now our enthusiasm was somewhat deflated. Not only was this dwelling unit totally bereft of any gardens or greenery, it was boxed in and suffocating.

Surrounding the main chamber were four or five relatively smaller rooms. The frontage was like an open courtyard. Perhaps it had once housed a garden. Some of walls had fallen into disrepair and decay. The main chamber featured two ventilators, seemingly our only means of communicating with the outer world.

Peeping out, I observed that one offered a view of the raised wall of the Palace, and the other of a nearby courtyard. That courtyard, I saw, was encircled by what appeared to be servants’ quarters...it seemed to me that that portion, too, had once been part of the dwelling unit now allocated to us.

Dismay was writ large on all our faces. But we were silent and restrained. Some domestics, assigned to us, got busy refurbishing and furnishing what was to be our new home.

As the sun set, a dull haze enveloped the atmosphere. In the meanwhile, a messenger arrived with the missive that Pitamah had desired our presence in the Consultation Chamber. Upon reaching there, we found, already assembled, Pitamah, Kaka Vidur and King Dhritraashtra, along with Queen Gandhari, both our grandmothers and our great grandmother. Ambalika, the younger grandmother, was my late father Pandu’s mother.

We all took our seats. After once again condoling us, Pitamah addressed the gathering thus: “We have consulted with the Head Priest, as also sages present. We shall depart tomorrow morning for the banks of the Holy Ganges to carry out the immersion of the mortal remains of the dear departed. Vidur shall be overall in charge of the arrangements.”

All present expressed agreement. Then followed some discussions wherein we described our lives in the forest prior to coming to Hastinapur. Soon, it was time for dinner. This was partaken in a communal Dining Hall with all the family members sitting down to dine together.

After the meal, we headed for our newly allotted chambers for our first night-stay in Hastinapur.

Before retiring for the night, Yudhishthir Bhaiya, who was visibly ill-at-ease, turned to Mother. “All does not seem well here in Hastinapur, Mother…” he said, “I wonder if coming here was a mistake on our part.” I reckon his misgivings stemmed from Duryodhan’s uncouth behaviour while welcoming us.

“Not at all…” said Mother with a long sigh, “Both destiny and propriety dictated that our coming to Hastinapur was the only possible course of action.”

Mother must have known in advance that our arrival here would not, inevitably, please all concerned. She was also aware that despite a distinguished persona like Bhishm Pitamah being part of the Kuru court, the subjects of Hastinapur were far from contented. She also had an inkling that on the night Duryodhan was born, bad omens had manifested themselves in Hastinapur. The streets of Hastinapur had filled up with jackals, whose heart-rending cries pervaded the atmosphere.

Earlier, in the meeting room as well as in the dining hall, I had this instinctive feeling that there was no love lost between our two grandmothers, despite their being sisters. The unease between them was clear to even the most casual observer. Our great grandmother, on the other hand, seemed to epitomize love and affection. But her eyes reflected a certain sorrow that was hard to miss. The impression one got was that inside her, something was fragmenting, which she was struggling hard to contain.

Early next morning, a palanquin was arranged in which the urns containing the last remains of my father and stepmother were placed. Accompanied by other family members, we proceeded to the banks of the Holy Ganges to carry out the immersion ceremony at the Ghat.

 It was quite an impressive congregation that went on its way, with chariots and horses in their regal splendour. The family elders – Pitamah, Vidur Kaka, King Dhritraashtra and Yudhishthir Bhaiya --  took turns to carry the palanquin on their shoulders. As a mark of respect, other mourners, too, took turns in bearing the palanquin to the river bank.

As the news percolated into Hastinapur, virtually its entire populace joined the procession. By the time we reached the Ghat, there was a vast congregation of subjects spread over every inch of available space.

As the eldest brother, Bhaiya Yudhishthir went through the various ceremonies as instructed by the priests present. There was not a dry eye amongst those present. Whilst Mother dissolved in a fit of tears, my grandmother Ambalika swooned away.

Even as the ceremonies proceeded, an undercurrent was perceived by me. There seemed to be a simmering discontent amongst the subjects, which evidenced itself in their mutterings, almost akin to the atmosphere I had felt around me when we’d arrived at the gates of Hastinapur.

On our return journey, Duryodhan once again displayed his tactlessness by targeting us with the following soliloquy, “Well, forest-dwellers, do you now intend to stick on here?” He had a dozen of his brothers with him, who also seemed to find something amusing in his tasteless remarks. This would have provoked an instant reaction from Bhim Bhaiya, but Yudhishthir Bhaiya motioned to him to exercise restraint.

We had reached our chariot in silence when Duryodhan, targeting Bhim, came up with this insulting observation, “What meat have you been consuming in the forest, to have developed this ogre-like body?” Bhim Bhaiya was not only extremely powerful, but also had a short fuse where temper was concerned. Yudhishthir Bhaiya, being only too well aware of this, drew him away by the hand and hastily motioned to the charioteer to move on.

 

(2)

 

Even though the designated mourning period for my father Pandu and stepmother Madri had passed, our grief showed no signs of abating. It was as though a cloud of gloom had descended upon Hastinapur. The very air seemed oppressive to breathe. I was unable to fathom what forces were at play here.

My father had renounced this kingdom several years ago, and had not returned to visit it even once. Despite this, how could the subjects be grieving so at his demise? Could it be that they were discontented, and had harboured within themselves a faint, flickering hope of my father returning some day as their King? Had they been nurturing an aspiration about my father someday returning to Hastinapur to “set things right”, as it were? Was it that, with his demise, their last hopes on this account had been dashed?

My mind was being assailed by a host of questions. What, really, comprised the pain of the subjects of Hastinapur? Like me, Yudhishthir Bhaiya and Mother were also pondering over these questions.

Maharishi Ved Vyas, who had a marked influence on the Kuru clan, got news of my father’s demise and arrived at the Royal Palace. I learnt from Mother that Maharishi Vyas was the eldest son of my great grandmother Satyavati. He had, in his childhood itself, taken upon himself a life of renunciation. He was reputed to possess an immense intellect and was reckoned to be knowledgeable on all the four Vedas. It was also hearsay that within him reposed miraculous powers, including the ability to foresee the future with a great deal of clarity and certainty.

One day, Maharishi Vyas was asked by great grandmother: “Son, how many worldly sorrows have I yet to endure in this life?” She had, after all, encountered first the death of her sons and now that of her grandson.

“Mother!  The sorrows suffered by you so far are in fact negligible compared to the ones yet to come, in your life. I foresee a dance of death knocking at the doors of time. This land is destined to shed tears of blood. I therefore urge you to renounce this royal life and retire to meditate in the forests. There alone shall you be able to get deliverance!”

My great grandmother was overcome by tears. Taking Maharishi Vyas’s advice, she carried out his bidding as soon as she could, taking along with her her two daughters-in-law. Despite Bhishm Pitamah and Vidur Kaka’s entreaties for her to reconsider her decision, she did not relent.

 

(3)

 

One afternoon, while I was practicing by myself in the corridor, Yudhishthir Bhaiya approached me and said, “Arjun, why don’t we go horse riding?” After our arrival in Hastinapur, Pitamah had facilitated our training in horsemanship.

“All right, Bhaiya.” I slung my bow over my shoulder, and prepared to accompany him.

“Do not carry your bow along,” said Bhaiya, leaving me bemused as to where we could possibly be heading.

“Very well, let me place this inside.” And so doing, I set out with him. We collected our horses from the stables and were soon on our way.

“Bhaiya, have we mother’s permission for this?” I queried as I prepared to mount. 

“Yes,” answered Bhaiya briefly. I knew that it was not Bhaiya’s nature to undertake a task or mission without a sound reason. We rapidly rode out to the villages on the outskirts of Hastinapur. While en route, another curt instruction was forthcoming from Bhaiya, “Do not identify yourself to anyone we meet.”

It was fairly close to sunset when we reached a village, where we halted. We were tired, and could do with a drink of water. We observed a set of people seated on cots spread out under a Neem tree. Nearby was a well. We dismounted, and approached this gathering. There were four people seated on two cots, with a couple of youths lounging by the well.

Seeing us approach, the four people seated on the cots rose to greet us. There was eagerness in their eyes as they looked forward to meeting us newcomers. With a gesture, Bhaiya advised them to be seated, indicating that we were just weary travellers anxious to quench our thirst. The elderly amongst the gathering sat down, while the others remained standing.

“Please be seated,” said one of the elders welcomingly, making a comfortable niche for us on the cot. He then instructed one of the youths, “Mahesh! Go home and fetch some jaggery. And make sure to carry along utensils for drinking water.” We seated ourselves on the cot. Two other villagers joined us. The second youth got busy drawing water from the well for us.

“Where have you come from?”queried the elderly gent. And, before we could reply, “by your bearing, you seem to be princes.”

Bhaiya responded, “We are sons of a trader, on our way from our place of residence, Shivi.”

“Was your destination Hastinapur...or are you headed elsewhere?”

“Our destination is Kaushambi.”

“Understood. In what goods does your family trade?”

“My father’s expertise lies in the gems and jewellery business. We are not that well-versed so far, though.”

“H’mm...Are you travelling mostly for leisure or in connection with business?”

“A combination of both, as a matter of fact. A moneylender in Kaushambi was a close friend of Father. He passed away some time ago. Father was unable to come visiting on account of ill-health. He has therefore deputed us. We will meet his late friend’s family to convey condolences, as also get to tour a new place.” After a slight pause, Bhaiya continued, “We were also desirous of visiting Hastinapur. So we thought we’d detour to include it in our itinerary. We get to hear so much about its grandeur and impeccable governance.”

“The Hastinapur of today has hardly anything to commend itself by. Its days of glory were when King Pandu was on the throne. After his quitting the kingdom, everything has gone downhill,” said another elder, with a wistful sigh. He seemed lost in the reverie of days gone by.

“But why should things be so bad? Isn’t Hastinapur still in the care of Esteemed Bhishm Pitamah?”

“Just in name…” said another elder, “It’s Dhritraashtra who’s on the throne.”

“And his prime advisor is his brother-in-law Shakuni. Whatever he says goes.”

“Don’t Bhishm Pitamah and Vidur have any role to play?” queried Bhaiya.

“Perhaps they try and intercede…” said the elder, “but Dhritraashtra generally has the last word.”

Just then, the youngster Mahesh returned with the jaggery and drinking water, and we refreshed ourselves.

Another villager piped up, “Shakuni’s influence is visible everywhere. The Royal Palace’s expenditure is steadily increasing. It is mostly focused on armaments, with a view to projecting a jingoistic image of the Kingdom.”

Mahesh chipped in, “Shakuni’s overheads are nothing to be sneezed at. I believe his cost exceeds that of maintaining five provinces.”

“It is heard that Duryodhan and his hundred brothers, as they grow up, are incurring more and more wasteful, self-indulgent expenditure. And their uncle Shakuni is only too happy to finance their vices from the State Treasury.” said another.

“And who ends up bearing all this extravagance? The poor subject-taxpayers, of course,” rued the elderly villager, “The cost of maintaining the luxurious lifestyle at the Royal Palace, the ever-growing soldiers’ salaries, the indulgences of the princes and  Shakuni like gambling, and so on...and to top it all, there is not an iota of control over government officials. They extort ad hoc revenue from us, the poor, probably to line their own pockets! There is no system in place to regulate them.”

Here, a second youth observed, “When the king and his subjects have no contact whatsoever, what else can one expect? But there is one ray of hope. Maharaj Pandu’s sons have returned to Hastinapur. There is bound to be a change for the better. Hopefully, this kingdom’s fortunes shall undergo a transformation soon.”

Said a second elder, “Well, son, nothing like hoping. But let’s not forget that it’s  Dhritraashtra who’s on the throne, and the Pandavas are still only youths. Let’s see how the succession plan plays out. If Duryodhan becomes the next king, things will only go from bad to worse.”

The first elder opined, “But I believe Yudhishthir is elder to Duryodhan. So logically, he should succeed to the throne.”

We were caught up in conversation with the villagers until nightfall, when Bhaiya rose and excused himself.

“Night is almost upon us. Why don’t you stay here overnight?” offered the elderly villager, “You could be on your way more safely in the morning.”

“Thank you very much indeed. But we’d like to spend the night in town. We should be there before nightfall.” responded Bhaiya, “We also have some work to catch up on there, tomorrow morning.” So saying, we moved towards our steeds. A couple of villagers came to see us off.

As we prepared to ride off, they cried in unison, “May your journey be fruitful.” Thanking them, we urged our mounts into motion.

On the entire return journey, the dialogue with the villagers kept resounding in our ears. Taken together with our other episodic experiences since our arrival in Hastinapur, one thing was eminently clear. The subjects of Hastinapur were oppressed and discontented. The kingdom’s administration needed a radical overhaul. But the question was: “How?’

We returned to Hastinapur around dinner time. I dined with my brothers and Mother, and then stepped out for a stroll in the Royal Palace gardens. My mind was ill-at-ease. Several questions kept churning in my head. I glimpsed Kaka Vidur in the garden, and went up to converse with him. He was possibly the only person in the kingdom that I felt at ease with. What particularly drew me to him was his penchant for logical, well-reasoned and balanced dialogue.

“Well, Arjun, how are you? Do you feel settled here yet?” queried Kaka.

“I’m alright, Kaka. Am gradually beginning to adjust...”

“Done with dinner yet?”

“Yes, thank you. I’d stepped out for a stroll after dinner.”

“That is good.”

Kaka Vidur and I resumed our stroll, chatting away equably. I just happened to mention to him in passing how I had visited some villagers incognito today. To my surprise, he expressed approval. Narrating the discontent in Hastinapur’s villagers and subjects, I asked him: “Kaka, if the administration is so flawed, why doesn’t Pitamah step in?”

His cryptic reply, “The reins of governance always remain in the king’s hands.”

“But who would object to Pitamah taking over the reign of Hastinapur?”

“It’s not a question of objection or opposition…” he replied, “But had that been his desire, he would have succeeded to the throne when your father departed Hastinapur. On account of Dhritraashtra’s loss of vision, the throne was initially offered to his younger sibling, viz. your father Pandu. But when he renounced the throne, the default choice for King became Dhritraashtra.”

“But Kaka, today, when the subjects of Hastinapur are so unhappy and discontented, and with the lives of so many protagonists at stake, is it appropriate for Bhishm Pitamah to stick to his resolve and abjure the throne?” I was aware that at a very young age, Pitamah had taken a vow to forever remain a bachelor, as also to make no claim to the throne. For which reason, he was happy to have his younger brothers succeed him in this behalf. Pitamah’s youngest brother Vichitraveerya, who had succeeded his elder brother Chitraangad to the throne, was our grandfather.

“Adherence to wows has been an unfailing characteristic of Kshatriya clans. You would be well aware that Emperor Dashrath of Ayodhya paid with his life rather than going back on his word. In the process, he was made to forego even his last rites being performed by his eldest son. His ancestor Harish Chandra underwent several agonizing travails, but refused to budge from his vow. This is a quality that is sine non qua for Kshatriyas.”

After a brief pause, Kaka went on, “You are as yet young and your mind tender. What you say is by no means wrong. But just contemplate – if people were to be at liberty to deviate from their vows given a change in circumstances, what would the outcome be? People would start to logically defend going back on their word. Who would adjudicate which logic is validly acceptable and which not? There arise in Life situations where it seems to one that it is futile to stick to principles – or, that it would be harmful to do so. But in order that Society as a whole functions satisfactorily, adherence to certain principles is a must. Else, everything would just fall apart.”

“Even if Pitamah doesn’t formally ascend the throne, surely he can intercede in salient matters of State?” I queried.

“No, he can’t.  As I’d mentioned earlier, the nitty-gritty of governance must stay within the domain of the ruler of the day. Pitamah can merely counsel him. How much he values, or acts upon, such advice, would remain the sole prerogative of Dhritraashtra.”

I plunged deep into thought. Perceiving my concern, Kaka said, “Arjun, it’s been an eye-opener listening to you voicing your concerns regarding Hastinapur. But mark my words, nothing remains unchanged forever. And so must be the case with Hastinapur and its fate, too! Destiny continuingly plays a role in the goings-on in this world. Circumstances must need always be in flux. I instinctively sense the winds of change shaping up to change Hastinapur’s future. Your generation is youthful, and has a long way to go. I feel you would, some day, be at the helm of affairs.” Kaka Vidur looked at me meaningly. And concluded by saying, “Come along, it’s late. Let’s be off to our respective sleeping chambers.”

Every passing day brought me closer to Vidur Kaka.

While in the Shatshringa forest, I had often marvelled at how the Kaurava brothers could be of the same age group, yet one hundred in number. I once put this question to Kaka.

“Arjun, in order to comprehend this, you would have to understand the reproductive process in greater detail. In order for beings to take birth, three essentials must exist. The male’s sperm contained in his semen, the female’s ovum and the womb. Should these three satisfactorily co-exist, what to speak of a hundred, even a thousand progeny can be conceived. Even if a single womb can bear only one or two progeny, if the male’s semen and female’s ovum is transplanted in various different wombs, several offspring can be conceived simultaneously. The parents of all such offspring would, of course, remain the same. For that matter, History records King Sagar as having conceived thousands of progeny.”

“So were all the hundred Kaurava brothers and their sister Dushala conceived in this manner?”

“Yes, you are right to the extent of Duryodhan and his brothers. But their sister Dushala was born subsequently. Gandhari gave birth to her separately. Besides this, Dhritraashtra has also sired Yuyutsu, whose mother, however, is not Gandhari.”

Kaka Vidur had resolved for me a question that had for long been plaguing my mind. The more I interacted with him, the closer I came to the realization that he was a veritable repository of knowledge. Thus, whenever, in the days to come, I was faced with any query or dilemma, it was him that I approached.

 

(4)

 

With the departure of my two grandmothers as also my great grandmother, the affairs of the Royal Palace fell into unbridled disarray. The presence of elders in any household ensures a certain modicum of restraint and discipline. All concerned take care to maintain propriety in conduct and behaviour.

But with their departure, all that was a thing of the past. Despite Pitamah being part of the Royal Court, he seldom came calling within the Royal Palace. Things, therefore, expectedly got out of hand.

Duryodhan and his brothers had always been prone to erratic behaviour. Their indiscipline and errant ways now began to escalate. Duryodhan had never reconciled with our return to Hastinapur.

It had always been the endeavour of Pitamah and Vidur Kaka that we Pandava brothers develop cordial relations with our Kaurava cousins. However, Duryodhan ensured that the chasm between us only grew wider. While playing together with us, he would always display a sense of enmity rather than competitiveness.

He would gang up with his brothers and lose no opportunity to bully and berate us. Anytime he saw us alone, the taunts would begin. “Forest dwellers, quit this place. There is nothing here for you. Staying in the forest is what you deserve.” Whenever we planned any fun or frolic, he would show up with ten or twenty of his brothers and disrupt the same.

Initially, we approached his mother Gandhari a couple of times with our grievance. She would always assure us that she would reprimand Duryodhan and have him mend his ways.

But once again, Shakuni’s influence would intervene, and our prayers would prove futile. Gandhari’s brother Shakuni was a unique character, the like of whom Hastinapur may never have seen! His countenance always wore a contrived, artificially benign look. Rapid changes in his mood, however, exposed him for the fraud he was.

Despite being the Prince of the Gandhar kingdom, he had installed himself in Hastinapur ever since Queen Gandhari was wedded into the Kuru clan. While this is considered condemnable vis-a-vis Indian traditions, he appeared to have no qualms about “overstaying his welcome”.

Uncle Shakuni had developed a distinct demeanour of his own, wherein his speech, his laugh and gait were his trademarks. A keen observer could make out his theatrics, but so far he seemed to be carrying these off, as also had managed to make himself a centre of influence in the Royal Court.

For instance, anytime we complained to Mother Gandhari about Duryodhan, Shakuni would spring to his defence, saying, “Sister! These are childrens’ disputes, and will occur from time to time.” And then, trying to implicate us with a tiger-like-smile, he would go on, “After all, a clap does not result from one hand alone. These Pandavas must have done something to provoke our Duryodhan. Else why would he get into a fight with them?”

This would become insufferable for us as Gandhari, with her blindfold on, could not see Duryodhan smirking in the background during these exchanges.

The Kingdom of Hastinapur was unfamiliar territory for us. And it is but natural that as newcomers, we were diffident in our dealings here with the Kauravas. If truth be told, both physically as well as mentally, we were more than a match for them. Our upbringing in the forest had ensured that. It was only our diffidence that prevented us from reacting more sharply to the provocative behaviour of our cousins.

We had, of course, made it our mission to coexist with our Kaurava cousins without dissent and dispute, to the extent possible. But Duryodhan’s machinations put paid to this objective. It was not as though all the one hundred Kaurava brothers were inimical to us. Some of them were, indeed, on cordial terms with us.

One of them, Vikarna, was our constant loving playmate. His behaviour with our side of the family was beyond reproach. He took keen interest in learning from us about our experiences arising out of living in the forest. The “worst offenders” amongst them were two: Duryodhan and Dusshaasan.

One day, Duryodhan and his brothers assaulted our younger brother Sahdev while at play. Yudhishthir Bhaiya was on his way to complain to Queen Gandhari, but Mother restrained him.

She called all five of us into her chamber, and addressed us thus: “You are all of royal lineage. Your approach should not be one of lodging complaints in expectation of justice. In the days to come, your role will, in fact, be one of dispensing justice. Understand this -- whosoever is guilty of a misdemeanour is deserving of justice. If you have in you the resolve to put this principle into practice, only then should you consider yourself worthy of being aspirants to a kingdom. If you cannot deliver justice to yourselves, how on earth do you expect to dispense justice to the subjects of Hastinapur, who have huge expectations of you.” Mother Kunti’s countenance was hard set as she said this.

Thereafter, none of us ever approached either Queen Gandhari or King Dhritraashtra with any complaint. On the other hand, Mama Shakuni would often visit Mother with exaggerated complaints, mostly against Bhim Bhaiya. He would dramatically narrate to her about Bhaiya having banged the heads of two Kaurava brothers together, or having shaken a tree so powerfully as to dislodge them from its branches like ripened fruit or having kicked dust in their eyes, blinding them.

While outwardly Mother would scold us, I could make out that she was, in her heart of hearts, pleased at this turn of events. This made our diffidence totally disappear. We were now able to ‘respond in kind’ to any excesses that Duryodhan and his brothers sent our way. But as far as we could see, this did not reform his conduct in any way.

 

(5)

 

The other day, while we were at play, Duryodhan came up to us and said: “Yudhishthir Bhaiya, I am ashamed of my behaviour so far. I’m afraid I’ve been nothing but un-parliamentary in my dealings with you to date. I was taken aback at your sudden arrival at the Hastinapur Court. For this reason, enmity planted its seeds in my heart.”

Pausing for a while, he went on to say, “I now repent my previous follies. We are all descendants of the same great ancestors. You brothers have as much right on Hastinapur as my brothers and me. I plead that you forgive my boorish behaviour and embrace me like your younger brother. Henceforth, let us live in peace and harmony like true brethren.”

Duryodhan’s words were enough to bring a frown of perplexity to Bhaiya’s brow. We other brothers, too, were taken aback at what we clearly regarded as a miraculous occurrence, something akin to the sun rising in the west.

Composed as usual, Bhaiya replied, “It is laudable, Duryodhan, that realization as to your mistake has dawned upon you; we, too, have no enmity in our hearts against you. There is no need therefore to apologize.”

“An apology is very much called for, Bhaiya! Thanks to me, you have always been derided and belittled, which is unforgivable. Till such time as you forgive me, my heart shall burn with guilt.” Remorse was writ large on Duryodhan’s face.

“Very well, Duryodhan. I forgive you”, said Bhaiya peaceably.

Duryodhan’s face glowed with pleasure. “It is your magnanimity to forgive and forget in this manner. Now I have another request to place before you. This, I feel, calls for a celebration. Why don’t we embark on a day of water sports? What do you say, Arjun and Bhim Bhaiya? It’ll be great fun! All of us brothers will frolic together, as also enjoy the choicest of delicacies.”

“But where is the venue for these water sports?” asked Bhaiya.

“On the banks of the Ganges, where I have had a fine facility constructed. There are blooming orchards and several pools...with the Holy Ganges only a stone’s throw away. Brothers, you will find the experience an unforgettable one,” said Duryodhan enthusiastically. Listening to him, we were all fired up and eager. Bhaiya looked at us questioningly. Our faces gave him the reply he wanted – we were all raring to go!!

“What are the arrangements for food there?” queried Bhim Bhaiya.

“More than adequate, Bhimsen. There is a large kitchen manned by twenty cooks and assorted helpers, who have already been despatched this morning,” replied Duryodhan.

“So you knew in advance that we were travelling there today…” asked Yudhishthir Bhaiya, “That’s how you made all the arrangements in advance?”

“That’s right, Bhaiya. I was anyway planning this outing with my brothers. Now with the Pandava brothers along, the occasion shall become all the more momentous.”

“All right, Duryodhan, we’ll go,” said Bhaiya, “Will Karna also be accompanying us?”

“Yes...we have invited him as well.”

“Duryodhan, I am not comfortable with taking him along. We are not on friendly terms with him. He always seems to be in a highly strung, tense state!”

“Forget the past, Bhaiya. He will conduct himself appropriately. Having already invited him, it will seem awkward to back out now.”

“Very well, let him come along too,” agreed Bhaiya reluctantly.

Karna was the son of King Dhritraashtra’s charioteer Adhirath. He had been a frequent visitor to the Palace since he was a child. He became a playmate of the Kaurava brothers, and they were soon drawn into close friendship. He was elder to both the Kauravas and us Pandava brothers.

Karna and Duryodhan had grown even closer since our arrival in Hastinapur. I was probably the factor responsible for this. Duryodhan was powerfully built, and put in a good deal of practice with the mace. He was confident that, along with his brothers, he could match us Pandavas in all modes of weaponry except one. He and his brothers had no match for me where archery was concerned. It was only Karna who could compete with me in this behalf.

In the earlier days, seeing me practising my archery lessons, Dusshaasan said in jest, “What do you know about archery? Our friend Karna is more than a match for hundreds of forest dwellers like you.”

“Really? Is he all that accomplished?” I retorted smilingly.

Dusshaasan turned to Duryodhan and said, “Bhaiya, he seems to think this is a fib.”

“Show him the results of Karna’s target practice. That would convince him all right,” chortled Duryodhan.

“Sure – I’d certainly be interested,” I said. I was inwardly curious too, I must confess.

At this, Dusshaasan took me to the other end of the gallery. There, he pointed out to me several spots that had been pierced by arrows. Some of the target-points were extremely narrow and inaccessible -- for instance, a very narrow branch on an ancient mango tree, a small niche in the roof of the gallery, etc. There were four or five such targeted spots. All were difficult spots to target, even if from not too great a distance.

I mounted my bow and, taking careful aim, struck every one of Karna’s arrows to dislodge them from their targets. Astounded, Dusshaasan could only watch. When he reported this to Duryodhan, the latter developed a suspicion and dislike for me from then onwards.

Karna was always clad in armour. When Bhim Bhaiya first saw him so clad, he said in jest, “So, O charioteer! Where are you headed to do battle?”

Karna was quick to retort, “Not a charioteer, but a warrior am I. Would you like to set your doubts at rest by confronting me on a battlefield?”

An angry Bhim Bhaiya, stung by this remark, responded, “What do we need a battlefield for? If you so wish, I could make you taste battle right here. You would be unable to countenance even a single punch from me.” Being extremely strong and fit, Bhim was a formidable rival for anyone in a wrestling contest.

“If you’re so proud of your prowess, pick up arms and challenge me,” said Karna, reaching for his bow and arrow.

Just then, Yudhishthir Bhaiya arrived and, addressing Karna, said: “Hold on, Karna. This is inappropriate conduct on your part. This is a playground, not a battlefield.” And then, turning to Duryodhan, “Duryodhan, keep your friend Karna to yourself. He should be taught proper behaviour before he engages with us.” Both Karna and Duryodhan, embarrassed by this episode, had to back down.

Recovering, Duryodhan said plaintively, “But Bhim provoked him about his armour.”

“I wasn’t being insulting, but speaking in jest,” was Bhim Bhaiya’s response, “Who plays in armour, anyway?” At this point, a piqued Karna hastily exited.

“He has not donned an armour,” Duryodhan sought to clarify. “His body is so composed.”

“What’s this you say, Duryodhan? His body is constructed like an armour...?”

“Yes. His chest and back are so hardened as to resemble an armour. And he can do nothing to alter this state of things.”

Bhaiya, “This is indeed extraordinary.”

“Extraordinary but true,” said Duryodhan firmly.

Addressing a charioteer’s son as a charioteer can be galling for him. There can only be one reason for this -- that he is dissatisfied with his lot. And that he feels that he, who is capable of ascending to greater heights, has been dealt an unfair hand by Life. That was the case with Karna. And he was not entirely unjustified in this perception.

Going by his skills in archery, it was clear to me that within him, doubtless, lay the skills of an accomplished bowman. He had the potential to become a formidable warrior. But alongside talent, there also resided in him charged up conceit in large measure. This, to my mind, poisons a warrior’s mind and debilitates his skills to no small extent. Karna, arising out of all the foregoing, carried the proverbial chip on his shoulder, and was forever intent on proving the superiority of his accomplishments.

That night at dinner time Sahdev asked Mother, “Can anybody’s body be composed like an armour?”

“What? Have you seen anyone...?” Mother seemed uneasy with Sahdev’s question.

“Brother Duryodhan told us that the body of Adhirath’s son is so composed. He also seems that way to look at.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes, we all did, when he’d come to play in the playground.”

“What is his name?”

“Karna. But you haven’t told me yet…is such a thing possible?”

“Yes it is”, replied Mother after a pause. She seemed to suddenly be lost in her thoughts.

 

(6)

 

In the afternoon, having had lunch, we mounted our chariots and set out for Pramaankoti, the site on the bank of the Ganges where Duryodhan had got constructed that sporting facility. It had been named ‘Udak Kreedan’. The sheer scale and majesty of the facility was something to behold.

It was a well spread out, circular park laden with blooming flowers, in the centre of which had been laid out several small ponds and lotus tanks. In one corner was a massive sporting facility. This was flanked by several small pavilions made of fabric, from which pennants were flying.

The blooms in the garden rendered the atmosphere of the entire complex aromatic. It was indeed a treat for one’s senses! At the other end of the park lay the huge kitchen of which Duryodhan had earlier made a mention.

All of us refreshed ourselves and set out for a tour of the complex. We then moved to the sporting facility and engaged in some play and frolics.

Shortly before sunset, we proceeded to the river bank and enjoyed sporting in the water till well after sunset. We then returned to base for dinner. Tired out by our exertions during the course of the day, we were nodding off to sleep even as we ate!

Four of us brothers quickly finished dinner and retired to bed. Bhim Bhaiya was still at dinner. With him were Duryodhan, Karna, Dusshaasan and a few other Kaurava brothers. As soon as we stretched out, we were instantly overtaken by sleep.

Next morning, when we awoke, it was to find that Bhim Bhaiya wasn’t in his bed! We speculated that perhaps he had stepped out for a stroll in the garden. But when we looked out for him there, he was nowhere to be seen. We waited awhile, and were forced to wonder how he could have just left for somewhere without keeping us informed? We had an unwritten rule amongst the Pandavas that each of us would keep the rest informed as to his movements.

As the day progressed, our worry turned to alarm and we decided to scour the entire complex for him. Karna, Duryodhan and his brothers were also up by now, and they joined us in our hunt. The cooks, support staff etc. too were all pressed into service in our quest.

We thoroughly searched the river bank, the garden complex and all the adjacent wooded areas. But there was no sign of him. Duryodhan said, “It’s possible that Bhimsen has returned on his own to the Palace. Maybe we should proceed there.” It didn’t seem as if we had any other recourse. With heavy hearts and dim hopes, we headed back.

Upon reaching the Royal Palace, we learnt that Bhim Bhaiya had not returned from the excursion. The news of his going missing stirred up a furore. Horse riders were despatched in all four directions. The search was extended to rivers, ponds, wells, woods and the nearby fields. But Bhim Bhaiya could not be found.

Mother started lamenting: “Surely this is all Duryodhan’s doing. Bhim was always a thorn in his side. This smacks of his treachery. He is capable of any sort of cruelty and deceit.”

Vidur Kaka came forward to console Mother: “Lady! No need to be so anxious. No ill can befall your son. Please recall the words of Maharishi Vyas. Had he not said that longevity would embrace all your sons? What he foretells can never go wrong. Wherever Bhimsen is, he is bound to return safely very soon.”

As the sun journeyed to the West in a sinking orb, our spirits followed the same trajectory. We started regretting the decision to come to Hastinapur. We, too, were convinced that Duryodhan was the moving force behind Bhim Bhaiya’s disappearance. But what could we do? We could level no accusation against the son of King Dhritraashtra and Queen Gandhari without any proof. The sly smiles of Duryodhan and Karna said it all. But there was nothing we could prove.

On the ninth day after his disappearance, Bhim Bhaiya miraculously reappeared! A wave of joy rippled through us. He briefed us that on the night of his disappearance, his dinner had been laced with poison. He was then tossed into the river Ganges. Unconscious, he drifted all the way to the jungles of Bithoor.

Some local tribals of Naga Community found him washed ashore and treated him against the intensive poison coursing through his system. The poison Bhim Bhaiya had ingested was a concentrate extracted from snakes, which was a malady their tribe was adept at treating. After Bhaiya regained consciousness, he was treated with a variety of herbal potions to regain his strength and vitality.

When the dastardly plot to murder Bhim Bhaiya was exposed, Pitamah was furious. He ordered, “None of the princes shall henceforth reside in the Royal Palace. Let them all be despatched to the Ashram of Kripacharya. They will be resident pupils there, and undertake training under his tutelage. Like other youths of their age-group, let them learn to live away from home bereft of the comforts and privileges they enjoy here!”

Pitamah was of the view that the murder conspiracy could not be the handiwork of Duryodhan alone. He envisaged Shakuni as the conspirator behind the scenes. He was therefore anxious to protect this, the next generation of the Kuru clan, from the evil influence of such a crooked and roguish person.

I for one was extremely happy at this development. Owing to Father’s demise, my tutelage had been cut short. It was now set to recommence.

Vidur Kaka accompanied us all to the Ashram of Guru Kripacharya, and gave us over to his care. The Ashram was located within the precincts of Hastinapur. But it was well away from the crowded hustle and bustle of the city, being on the fringe of the surrounding forests. Close to the Ashram flowed a river.

Accustomed as we were to this sort of setting and life, we were quick to take to our new surroundings like a fish to water. We got down to seriously addressing our studentship under the able guidance of Gurudev.

Mother’s last message as she saw us off reverberated in our ears: “Be forever wary of Duryodhan!”