Mahabharata

by C. Rajagopalachari

“He conquers the world, who patiently puts up with the abuse of his neighbours. He who controls his anger, as a horseman breaks an unruly horse, is indeed a charioteer and not he who merely holds the reins, but lets the horse go whither it would. He who sheds his anger just as a snake its slough, is a real hero. He who is not moved despite the greatest torments inflicted by others, will realise his aim. He who never gets angry is superior to the ritualist who faithfully performs for a hundred years the sacrifices ordained by scripture. Servants, friends, brothers, wife, children, virtue and truth abandon the man who gives way to anger. The wise will not take to heart the words of boys and girls.”

At that moment Karna rose up and said: “O Vikarna, forgetting that there are elders in this assembly, you lay down the law though you are but a stripling. By your ignorance and rashness you are injuring the very family which gave you birth, just as the flame generated by the arani destroys its source, the stick. It is an ill bird that fouls its own nest. At the very beginning, when Yudhishthira was a free man, he forfeited all he possessed and that, of course, included Draupadi. Hence, Draupadi had already come into Sakuni’s possession. There is nothing more to be said in the matter. Even the clothes they have on are now Sakuni’s property. O Duhsasana, seize the garments of the Pandavas and the robes of Draupadi and hand them over to Sakuni."

Truly, as Sri Vyasa says: “There never was and never can be an antelope of gold! Yet, Rama went in vain pursuit of what seemed one; surely, when calamities are imminent, the judgment is first destroyed.”

Lomasa told them the story of the place: “This is the ghat where Bharata, the son of Dasaratha, bathed.

Be not ruined by vanity. Cultivate self-restraint. Do not transgress the limits of, good conduct and do not be disrespectful

“A son need not be like his father. A father who is physically weak may have a very strong son and an ignorant father may have a scholarly son. It is wrong to assess the greatness of a man on his physical appearance or age. External appearances are deceptive.”

“While you roar like a lion in the battlefield, my voice shall join yours and strike terror into the hearts of your enemies. I shall be present on the flag of the chariot of your brother Arjuna. You will be victorious.”

man reaches perfection by the honest pursuit of whatever calling falls to his lot in life, and that this is really worship of God Who created and pervades all.* The occupation may be one he is born to in society or it may have been forced on him by circumstances or he may have taken it up by choice but what really matters is the spirit of sincerity and faithfulness with which he does his life’s work.

A heart full of hate can know no contentment. Hate is a cruel fire which extorts the fuel on which it lives and grows.

Relating this story of the sufferings of Indra and his wife to Yudhishthira and Draupadi at Upaplavya, their uncle Salya tried to comfort them. “Victory awaits the patient. Those, whom prosperity makes arrogant, meet with destruction.

Bhishma smiled as the arrows continued to come down thick on him, and turning to Duhsasana, said: “Ah, these are Arjuna’s arrows! These cannot be Sikhandin’s, for they burn my flesh as the crab’s young ones tear their mother’s body.” Thus did the grandsire look upon his dear pupil’s arrows and, while saying this to Duhsasana, he took up a javelin and hurled it at Arjuna. Arjuna met it with three arrows which cut it to pieces, even as it was speeding through the air. Bhishma then decided to end the combat and made as if to dismount from his chariot, sword and shield in hand, but before he could do so, his shield was cut to pieces by Arjuna’s arrows. With arrows sticking all over his body so thickly that there was not even an inch of intervening space, Bhishma fell headlong to the ground from his chariot. As he fell, the gods, who looked on from above, folded their hands in reverent salutation and a gentle breeze, laden with fragrance and cool raindrops, swept over the battlefield. Thus fell the great and good Bhishma, the son of Ganga- Ganga, who came on earth to hallow it and all it bears. The blameless hero who, unasked made the great renunciation to give joy to his father, the undefeated bowman who had humbled the pride of Rama of the axe, the selfless worker for righteousness sake, thus repaid his debt to Duryodhana, and lay wounded to death sanctifying with his life-blood the battlefield. As the grandsire fell, the hearts of the Kauravas also fell along with him. Bhish...

“Bhurisravas, you are old and age seems to have affected your judgment. You accuse Hrishikesa and me without cause. How could I look on doing nothing, when, before my eyes, you were in the act of killing my friend, who came and risked his life in battle on my behalf, one who was like a right hand to me, and whom you were going to stab when he was lying helpless on the ground? I would have deserved to go to hell if I had failed to intervene. You say, I have been ruined by keeping company with Madhava. Who in the wide world would not wish to be so ruined? You have spoken out of confused understanding, Satyaki who was weary and exhausted when he came here and who was inadequately armed, was challenged by you to give battle. You overcame him. Having been defeated, he lay on the ground, powerless. What code of honour enabled you to raise your sword to thrust it into the body of the fallen warrior and slay him? Do I not remember how you cheered the man who killed my boy Abhimanyu when he stood staggering, exhausted and weapon-less, his coat of armour torn off?”

The slaying of Bhurisravas is one of the many situations of moral conflict woven into the story of the Mahabharata to demonstrate that, when hatred and anger have been roused, codes of honour and dharma are powerless to control them.

“Dhananjaya, the Sindhu raja is looking at the horizon. I have caused this darkness. The sun is still up and has not set. Do your work. This is the moment for it, for Jayadratha is off his guard.”

It was nightfall, but, on the fourteenth day of the battle the rule of cease-fire at sunset was not observed. As the passions rose from day to day, one by one the rules and restraints broke down.

On the fourteenth day, when the sun set, they did not cease fighting but went on with it in torchlight. The Kurukshetra field presented a strange sight, the like of which had not been seen before in Bharata Desa. The generals and soldiers on both sides were engaged in battle, with thousands of torches burning and using signals specially devised for night-time.

When the words of untruth came out of Yudhishthira’s mouth, the wheels of his chariot, which until then always stood and moved four inches above the ground and never touched it, at once came down and touched the earth. Yudhishthira, who till then had stood apart from the world so full of untruth, suddenly became of the earth, earthy. He too desired victory and slipped into the way of untruth and so his chariot came down to the common road of mankind.

“Wait a minute!" he cried. “My chariot has sunk in the ground. Great warrior as you are, and knowing dharma as you do, you would certainly not take unfair advantage of this accident. I shall presently set my car right and give you all the battle you want.” Arjuna hesitated. Karna was now somewhat perturbed on account of the mishap. He remembered the curse that had been pronounced on him, and again appealed to Arjuna’s sense of honour. Krishna intervened. “Ha, Karna!" he exclaimed, “It is well that you too remember that there are things like fairplay and chivalry! Now that you are in difficulty, you remember them indeed, but when you and Duryodhana and Duhsasana and Sakuni dragged Draupadi to the Hall of Assembly and insulted her, how was it you forgot them utterly? You helped to inveigle Dharmaputra, who was fond of play but was unskilled at it, to gamble, and you cheated him. Where had your fairplay hidden itself then? Was it fairplay to refuse to give to Yudhishthira his kingdom when according to the pledge the twelve years of forest life and the thirteenth year incognito were duly completed? What had happened to the dharma you appeal for now? You conspired with the wicked men who sought to poison and kill Bhima. You acquiesced in the plot to burn the Pandavas alive when sleeping in the palace of wax into which they had been lured. What had happened to dharma all that time? What did dharma tell you when violent hands were laid on Draupadi and you were looking on enjoying...

When Krishna was denouncing him in this manner in order to urge Arjuna to prompt action, Karna bent his head in shame and uttered not a word. He silently ascended the chariot leaving the wheel still stuck in the mud and took his bow and sent an arrow at Arjuna with unerring aim and such power that it stunned him for a moment. Karna utilised the respite won, to jump down again and hurriedly tried to lift the chariot wheel up, but the curse was too strong for him and fortune had deserted the great warrior. The wheel would not budge, though he strove with all his great strength. Then he tried to recall the mantras of mighty astras he had learnt from Parasurama, but his memory failed in the hour of his need, even as Parasurama had foretold. “Waste no more time, Arjuna,” cried Madhava. “Send your shaft and slay your wicked enemy.” Arjuna‘s mind was wavering. His hand hesitated to do what was not chivalrous. But when Krishna said this, the poet says: “Arjuna accepted this command of the Lord and sent an arrow which cut and severed the head of the Radheya.” The poet had not the heart to impute this act to Arjuna who was the embodiment of nobility. It was the Lord Krishna that incited Arjuna to kill Karna when he was vainly trying to raise his chariot out of the mud in which it had stuck. According to the code of honour and laws of war prevailing then, it was wholly wrong. Who could bear the responsibility for breaches of dharma except the Lord Himself?

The battle for right, conducted through physical force leads to numerous wrongs and, in the net result, adharma increases.

“Wretch!” replied Duryodhana. “Living, I was a great prince, generous friend, and a terrible foe. All human joys, such joys as kings wish for in vain, and even Gods do not despise, have been mine, in their fullness, and warrior’s death is the fitting crown of such a life. Dying, I go triumphantly to swarg to join my friends and my brothers who have gone there already and are waiting to welcome me. You remain here below, your objects defeated and yourselves the object of contempt of all kshatriyas. I do not mind Bhima putting his foot on my head as I lie helpless on the ground with legs broken. What care I? In a few minutes more will not the feet of crows and vultures settle on my head?” When Duryodhana said this, flowers were showered down from the heavens by the gods. Inordinate desire took Duryodhana into the wrong path, whence ensued anger and numerous breaches of dharma; but no one could question the unconquerable spirit of Dhritarashtra’s son.

Duryodhana, who was stretched on the ground in intense agony, when he heard Krishna say this, went into a paroxysm of rage. He half raised himself on his arms in spite of the excruciating pain, and exclaimed: “Wretch! Son of a slave! Was not your father Vasudeva Kamsa’s slave? You have no business to sit or move with princes. You speak like a shameless wretch. I saw you instigate Bhima to aim his blow at my thigh! Do you think I did not see you, making as though casually talking to Arjuna, pointing to your thigh, but really indicating to Bhima that he should strike me on the thighs, disregarding the laws of single combat? Till then, it had been equal battle. You have neither pity nor shame. Did you not contrive the death of the grandsire Bhishma through stratagem? You advised Sikhandin to be placed in front when attacking Bhishma, knowing that the grandsire would scorn to fight a woman and would let himself be mortally wounded without resistance. You brought about the end of Dronacharya through making Dharmaputra utter a falsehood. You were the father of that deadly lie that issued from Yudhishthira’s mouth, and made Dronacharya throw his bow away. Did you not look on without protest, and rejoice, when that wretch Dhrishtadyumna attacked and killed the acharya who had stopped fighting, throwing away his weapons, and settled down in yoga posture for meditation on the Supreme? Was it not you who wickedly contrived to make Karna hurl the fatal spear at Ghatotkacha instead of ...

“There is truth,” said Krishna, “in what Duryodhana said. You could not have defeated him by fair means. This wicked man was invincible in battle.”

Once, when Karna saw that Arjuna was superior to him in archery, he approached Drona and entreated him to teach him how to wield the Brahmastra. Drona declined saying it was not open to him to instruct any but a brahmana of faultless conduct or a kshatriya who had purified himself by much penance. Thereupon, Karna went to the Mahendra hills and deceived Parasurama by saying that he was a brahmana and became his disciple. From him he obtained instruction in archery and the use of many astras. One day, when Karna was practising with his bow in the forest near Parasurama’s asrama, a brahmana’s cow was accidentally hit and killed. The brahmana was angry and uttered a curse on Karna: “In battle, your chariot-wheels will stick in the mud and you will be done to death, even like this innocent cow which you have killed.” Parasurama was exceedingly fond of Karna and taught him all the archery he knew and instructed him fully in the use and the withdrawing of the Brahmastra. One day, however, he discovered that the disciple was not a brahmana. It happened thus: an insect hit a hole into Karna’s thigh when, one afternoon the teacher had fallen asleep on Karna’s lap. Karna bore the acute pain quietly and did not stir lest the master should wake up. The warm blood trickling from the wound woke up Parasurama. When he saw what had happened, he was angry. “You are a kshatriya; otherwise you could not have borne this physical pain without stirring. Tell me the truth. You are not a brahmana...

“You deceived us, mother” said Yudhishthira, “by hiding the secret of his birth from us. You became thus the cause of this great sin. May women never be able to keep a secret henceforth.”

dharma is the only constant companion in life’s journey. It was dharma who, in the shape of the dog, followed Yudhishthira up the wearisome mountain path, when his brothers and wife had gone leaving him alone.

“Your brothers and Draupadi have arrived before you. You have lagged behind, burdened with your body. Ascend my chariot and go with me in the flesh. I have come to take you,” said Indra. But when Yudhishthira went up to take his seat in Indra’s chariot, the dog also climbed up. “No, no.” said Indra. “There is no place for dogs in swarga,” and pushed the dog away. “Then there is no room for me either,” said Yudhishthira, and refused to enter the heavenly chariot if he had to leave his faithful companion behind. Dharma had come to test Yudhishthira’s loyalty and he was pleased with his son's conduct. The dog vanished from sight. Yudhishthira reached swarga. There, he saw Duryodhana. The Kuru prince was seated on a beautiful throne and he shone with the splendour of the sun and around him stood in attendance the goddess of heroism and other angels. He did not see his brothers or anyone else.