Mahabharata

by C. Rajagopalachari

At these words, Dhritarashtra began to ponder and said: “Son, what you say is true. Still Yudhishthira will not stray from the path of virtue. He loves all. He has truly inherited all the excellent virtues of his deceased father.

“He alone will escape from danger who forestalls the intentions of an astute enemy. There are weapons sharper than those made of steel, and the wise man who would escape destruction must know the means to guard against them. The conflagration that devastates a forest cannot hurt a rat which shelters itself in a hole or a porcupine which burrows in the earth. The wise man knows his bearings by looking at the stars."

Vyasa has beautifully described the then mental state of Dhritarashtra: “Just as the water of a deep pool is cool at the bottom and warm on the surface, so the heart of Dhritarashtra was at once warm with joy and chill with sorrow.”

Bhima saw that his mother and brothers were exhausted by their nightly vigils as well as by fear and anxiety. He therefore carried his mother on his shoulders and took Nakula and Sahadeva on his hips, supporting Yudhishthira and Arjuna with his two hands. Thus heavily laden, he strode effortlessly like a lordly elephant forcing his way through the forest and pushing aside the shrubs and trees that obstructed his path.

Vrikodara, one of the names of Bhima, means wolf-bellied, and a wolf, you know, looks always famished and, however much it might eat, its hunger is never quite satisfied.

Advise me. You are not among those whose affection makes them blind and partial. Nor are you one of those who advise to please and whose counsel is pleasant rather than true or wholesome.”

Vyasa’s words filled Yudhishthira with grief and with a great repugnance for worldly ambition and life itself. He informed his brothers of the prediction of unavoidable racial disaster. Life seemed to him a bitter and weary business and his destiny particularly cruel and unbearable. Arjuna said: “You are a king and it is not right for you to be agitated. Let us meet destiny with undaunted front and do our duty.”

Here is an illustration of the futility of human plans, however well-meant or wise, without divine aid. Our best wisdom is vain against fate, and if destiny is kind, our very follies turn to our advantage.

‘Forbearance and contentment, though the duties of ordinary men, are not virtues in kings. The kshatriya’s duty is a constant seeking of victory.”

Men rush consciously on their ruin impelled by lust, gambling and drink. Yudhishthira was fond of gambling. The kshatriya tradition made it a matter of etiquette and honour not to refuse an invitation to a game of dice.

Bhima with quivering lips, loudly uttered this terrible oath: “May I never go to the blest abode of my ancestors if I do not rend the breast and drink the heart's blood of this sinful Duhsasana, this shame of the Bharata race.”

You say that there is no one in this world who is as unfortunate as you. Now, that is not true, though everyone tried by adversity, is inclined to claim pre-eminence in sorrow, because things felt are more than things heard or seen.

hmmm

IT is an error to think that it is easy for a person to lead a life of chastity if he is brought up in complete ignorance of sensual pleasures. Virtue guarded only by ignorance is very insecure

High thinking and deep meditation had in the meantime cleansed his heart of all anger at his brother’s conduct; and so, he only prayed that his father might be restored to life and that his brother might be freed from wickedness and the sins that he had committed.

“What greater wonder is there in this world than the patience and the chastity of woman? She gives birth to a child after cherishing it in her womb as dearer than life itself. She brings it into the world in pain and anxiety and thence forward her one thought is for its health and happiness. Largehearted and forgiving, a woman forgives and continues to love even a wicked husband who neglects and hates and subjects her to all sorts of miseries. How strange!"

The moral of this striking story of Dharmavyadha so skilfully woven by Vedavyasa into the Mahabharata, is the same as the teaching of the Gita, that 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. Vedavyasa emphasises this great truth by making a scholarly brahmana, who did not know it, learn it from a butcher, who lived it in his humble and despised life.

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

“What rescues man in danger?” “Courage is man’s salvation in danger.”

“What is fleeter than wind?” “Mind.”

“Who is the friend of one who stays at home?” “The wife.”

“Who accompanies a man in death?” “Dharma. That alone accompanies the soul in its solitary journey after death.”

“What is the loss which yields joy and not sorrow?” “Anger-giving it up, we will no longer be subject to sorrow."

“What is that, by giving up which, man becomes rich?" “Desire-getting rid of it, man becomes wealthy.”

“What is the greatest wonder in the world?” “Every day, men see creatures depart to Yama’s abode and yet, those who remain, seek to live for ever. This verily is the greatest wonder.”

It was Yama, the Lord of Death, who had taken the form of the deer and the yaksha so that he might see his son Yudhishthira and test him. He embraced Yudhishthira and blessed him.

The story of Uttara, who spoke boastfully in the ladies’ boudoirs and fled in panic at the sight of the hostile array, has not been introduced in the Mahabharata, merely as a comic interlude. It is in ordinary human nature to look with contempt on lower levels of conduct in ability. The rich scorn the poor; the beautiful, the plain; the strong, the weak. Brave men despise cowards. But, Arjuna was no ordinary man but a great soul and a true hero who felt that his duty as a strong, brave man was to help others to rise above their weakness. Knowing that nature had endowed him with courage and bravery at birth, and that he owed them to no special exertions on his part, he had the true humility of the really great and he did what he could to put courage into Uttara and make him worthy of his lineage. This was Arjuna’s characteristic nobility. He never abused his strength and power. One of his many names is Bibhatsu, which means one who shrank from doing an unworthy act, and he lived up to it.

Even those, who fight and conquer kingdoms, do not crow too loudly about it, and I cannot see what you have done to be proud of. The fire is silent and yet cooks the food. The sun shines but not on himself. Likewise, Mother earth sustains all things, movable and immovable, and supports her burden without so much as a whisper. What claim to praise has a kshatriya who has unlawfully seized another’s kingdom at a game of dice?

With these words Arjuna moved away from the Kaurava army and went after Duryodhana and the cows. And as he was going, he respectfully greeted his teachers and the old grandsire, by drawing his Gandiva bow and sending arrows so as to fall near their feet. Reverently saluting them in this heroic fashion, he left them and pursued Duryodhana.

Scarcely had Krishna finished when Arjuna said with reverence and without hesitation: “I would be content if you are with us, though you may wield no weapon."

Vasudeva smiled again and pronounced this benediction: “Are you trying to compete with me? May you succeed.” for he was pleased with Arjuna’s decision

“Victory awaits the patient. Those, whom prosperity makes arrogant, meet with destruction.

Even the mighty Bhima, rather surprisingly, plumped for peaceful settlement. “Let not the race be destroyed. Peace is very much to be preferred,” said he. The poet Vyasa makes Bhima speak thus in order to show that truly great warriors desire peace, and that to seek peace is not a sign of fear.

When Duryodhana said that he had not committed wrong, Govinda laughed and said: “The play was fraudulently arranged by you in conspiracy with Sakuni and you afterwards insulted Draupadi in an assembly of princes, and yet, you have the impudence to say that you have committed no wrong,” and reminded him of the other iniquities he had perpetrated against the Pandavas.

In the olden days, it was the practice to ascertain the views of younger people first, before consulting elders. This instilled enthusiasm and self-confidence in the younger folk. If the elders were consulted first, it would not be possible for others to speak with freedom, and even honest differences of opinion might savour of disrespect.

Janardana’s* anger rose. “I can stand this no longer, Arjuna. I shall kill Bhishma myself if you will not do it!” he exclaimed, and dropping the reins, he took up his discus and jumped down from the chariot and dashed forward towards Bhishma. Bhishma was far from being perturbed at this. On the contrary, his face expanded with ecstatic joy. “Come, come, Oh Lotus-eyed One!” he exclaimed. “I bow to you, Oh Madhava. Lord of the World, have you indeed come down from the chariot for my sake? I offer you my life. If I be slain by you, I shall be glorified in the three worlds. Give me that boon. May your hands take this life away and save me for eternity.”

It will be seen that even in our Puranic stories elephants fared as badly in battle as they did in the wars of the Greeks and the Romans.

“I am like a shipwrecked man seeking to save himself by swimming in a storm-tossed ocean. I shall surely drown, overwhelmed in this sea of sorrow.” Again and again, when Sanjaya related the happenings of the great battle, Dhritarashtra would thus lament, unable to bear his grief.

Destruction awaits you if you insult Dhananjaya and Krishna, who are none other than Nara and Narayana.”

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.

Bhagadatta tried to urge his great beast forward, but it stood stark rigid, and his loud command went in vain even as the words of man, who has lost his wealth, are disregarded by his wife.

Why do we want kingdom now? What words of comfort can I offer to Arjuna? And what shall I say to Subhadra quivering like a cow bereaved of her calf? How can I utter to them vain words of solace that serve no purpose? Truly, ambition destroys the understanding of men. Like the fool who, looking for honey, falls into a precipitous pit below and is destroyed, in my desire for victory I pushed to the battle-front this boy, whose life was all before him in love and joy. There is no fool like me in the world. I have killed Arjuna’s beloved son, instead of protecting him during the absence of his father.”

The seven brothers sent by Duryodhana attacked Bhima, but fell one after another, struck down by his arrows. Vikarna, who was killed last, was beloved of all. When Bhima saw him fall dead after a brave fight, he was deeply moved and exclaimed: “Alas, O Vikarna, you were just and knew what was dharma! You fought in loyal obedience to the call of duty. I had to kill even you. Indeed this battle is a curse upon us where-in men like you and the grandsire Bhishma have had to be slaughtered.”

“My king,” Karna replied, “I have been wounded all over by Bhimasena, and am so weary that my limbs have no power in them; still, I shall put forth all the strength that is in me. I only live to serve you.”

Bhima lifted his iron mace and brought it down on the head of a huge elephant called Aswatthama and it fell dead. After killing the elephant Aswatthama, Bhimasena went near the division commanded by Drona and roared so that all might hear. “I have killed Aswatthama!” Bhimasena who, until then, had never done or even contemplated an ignoble act, was, as he uttered these words, greatly ashamed. They knocked against his very heart-but could they be true? Drona heard these words as he was in the act of discharging a brahmastra. “Yudhishthira, is it true my son has been slain?” Dronacharya asked addressing Dharmaputra. The acharya thought that Yudhishthira would not utter an untruth even for the kingship of the three worlds. When Drona asked thus, Krishna was terribly perturbed. “If Yudhishthira fails us now and shrinks from uttering an untruth, we are lost. Drona’s brahmastra is of unquenchable potency and the Pandavas will be destroyed,” he said. And Yudhishthira himself stood trembling in horror of what he was about to do, but within him also was the desire to win. “Let it be my sin,” he said to himself and hardened his heart and said aloud: “Yes, it is true that Aswatthama has been killed.” But, as he was saying it, he felt again the disgrace of it and added in a low and tremulous voice, “Aswatthama, the elephant”- words which were however drowned in the din and were not heard by Drona.

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?

“Queen, the cruel Yudhishthira, who killed your sons, stands before you fit to be cursed. Do curse me who have committed great sin. I care not for life or for kingdom.” Saying this, he fell on the ground and touched her feet.

The lesson enforced by the poet in this episode of the dog is that 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.