Faculty of Humanities and Social Science > English

The Mahabharata

<< < (25/26) > >>

nusrat-diu:
101. A POUND OF FLOUR

WHEN Yudhishthira was crowned and installed as king after the Kurukshetra battle, he performed an aswamedha yajna. As was the custom on occasions of this great horse sacrifice, all the princes of the land gathered on invitation and the yajna was completed in great splendor. The brahmanas and the poor and the destitute people, who had come in great numbers from all parts of the country, received bounteous gifts. Everything was done in magnificent style and in conformity With the injunctions relating to the sacrifice.

From somewhere unseen, a weasel suddenly appeared right in the middle of the assembled guests and priests in the great pavilion and, after rolling on the ground laughed a loud human laugh as if in derision. The priests were alarmed at this strange and unnatural occurrence and wondered whether it was some evil spirit that had come to pollute and disturb the sacred rites.

The weasel's body was on one side all shining gold. This remarkable creature turned round and took a good view of the assembly of princes and learned brahmanas that had come from various countries and gathered in that great pavilion and began to speak:

"Princes assembled and priests, listen to me. You no doubt believe that you have completed your yajna in splendid style. Once upon a time, a poor brahmana who lived in Kurukshetra made a gift of a pound of maize flour. Your great horse sacrifice and all the gifts made in that connection are less than that small gift of the Kurukshetra brahmana. You seem to think too much of your yajna. Pray, be not so vain about it."

The gathering was amazed at this strange and impertinent speech of the golden weasel. The brahmana priests, who had performed the sacrificial rites, went up to the weasel and spoke to it:

"Wherefrom and why have you come to this yajna, performed by good and worthy men? Who are you? Why do you utter words of scorn about our sacrifice? This aswamedha has been duly completed in every detail in accordance with sastraic injunctions. It is not proper that you should speak derisively of our great sacrifice. Everyone that has come to this yajna has been duly attended to and has been accorded suitable honors and gifts. Everyone is pleased with the gifts and returns happy and contented. The mantras have been chanted perfectly and the oblations duly offered. The four castes are pleased. Why do you speak as you do? Do explain yourself."

The weasel laughed again and said: "O brahmanas, what I said is true. I do not grudge the good fortune of king Yudhishthira or the good fortune of any of you. It is not envy that makes me say this. The yajna, which you have just completed so showily, is not in truth as great an act as that gift of the poor brahmana, which I have seen. And in reward for his gift, he and his wife, son and daughter-in-law were immediately taken to swarga. Listen to my story which is a true narrative of what I saw myself. Long before you waged your battle there, a brahmana, lived in Kurukshetra, who obtained his daily food by gleaning in the fields. He and his wife, son and daughter-in-law, all four lived in this manner. Everyday in the afternoon they would sit down and have their only meal for the day. On days when they failed to find enough grain, they would fast until the next afternoon. They would not keep over any thing for the next day if they got more than they required for the day. This was the strict unchhavritti discipline they had pledged themselves to observe. They passed their days thus for many years, when a great drought came and there was famine all over the land. All cultivation ceased and there was neither sowing nor harvesting nor any grain scattered in the fields to be gleaned. For many days the brahmana and his family starved. One day, after wandering in hunger and heat, with great difficulty they came home with a small quantity of maize, which they had gathered. They ground it and after saying their prayers they divided the flour into four equal parts and, offering thanks to God, sat down eagerly to eat. Just then, a brahmana entered and he was exceedingly hungry. Seeing an unexpected guest arrive, they got up and made due obeisance and asked him to join them. The pure-souled brahmana and his wife and son and daughter-in-law were exceedingly delighted to have the good fortune of receiving guest at that juncture. 'Oh best of brahmanas, I am a poor man. This flour of maize was obtained in accordance with dharma. Pray accept this. May blessings attend on you,' said the brahmana of Kurukshetra and gave his share of the flour to the guest. The guest ate it with avidity but he was still hungry when he had finished. Seeing his hungry and unsatisfied look, the brahmana was grieved and did not know what to do, when his wife said: 'Lord, give my share also to him. I shall be glad if the guest's hunger he satisfied.' Saying this, she handed her share of the flour to her husband to be given to the guest. 'Faithful one,' said the brahmana, 'the beasts and the birds and all the animals tend the females of their species with care. May man do worse? I cannot accept your suggestion. What shall I gain in this or in the other world if I leave you to starve and suffer hunger, you who help me and serve me to do the sacred duties of a householder's life? Beloved one, you are now skin and bone and famished and exceedingly hungry. How can I leave you to suffer in that condition and hope to attain any good by feeding the guest? No, I cannot accept your offer.' 'You are versed in the sastras, best of brahmanas', replied the wife. 'Is it not true that dharma, artha and all the objects of human activity are to the common and equal benefit of both of us who have been joined together? Do look on me with compassion and take my share of the flour and satisfy the requirements of this our guest. You are hungry as I am and you should not make any distinction between us. I entreat you not to deny my request.' The brahmana yielded and took the wife's share and gave it to the guest who took it greedily and ate it. But he was still hungry! Great was the distress of the poor brahmana of Kurukshetra. His son, who saw this, came forward. 'Father, here is my share,' said he. 'Give it to this guest who seems to be still hungry. I shall be indeed happy if we shall thus be able to fulfil our duty.' The father's distress increased. 'Child!' he exclaimed, 'old men can stand starvation. Youth's hunger is severe. I am not able to find it in my heart to accept what you say.' The son insisted: 'it is the duty of the son to look after his father in his declining years. The son is not different from the father. Is it not said that the father is born afresh in his son? My share of the flour is yours in truth. I beg of you to accept what I give and feed this hungry guest.' 'Dear boy, your nobility and your mastery over the senses fill me with pride. Blessing on you. I shall accept your share!' said the father, and he took the son's flour and gave it to the guest to eat. The guest ate the third part of the flour also but he was still hungry! The brahmana, who lived on scattered grain, was confused. While he was in distress, not knowing that to do, his daughter-in-law addressed him thus: 'Lord, I shall give my share too and gladly complete our efforts to feed this guest. I beg of you to accept it and bless me, your child, for, by that, I shall have eternal good as my reward.' The father-in-law was sad beyond measure. 'O girl of spotless character, pale and emaciated as you are from starvation, you propose to give your part of the food also to me, so that I may earn merit by giving it to this guest. If I accept your offer, I shall indeed be guilty of cruelty. How could I possibly look on when you wither in hunger?' The girl would not listen. 'Father, you are lord of my lord and master, preceptor of my preceptor, god of my god. I implore you to accept my flour. Is not this body of mine dedicated wholly to serve my lord? You should help me to attain the good. Do take this flour, I entreat you.' Thus implored by his daughter-in-law, the brahmana accepted her share of the flour and blessed her saying: 'Loyal girl, may every good be yours!' The guest received this last portion avidly and ate it and was satisfied. 'Blessed is your hospitality, given with the purest intent and to the uttermost of your capacity. Your gift has leased me. Lo there, the gods are showering flowers in admiration of your extraordinary sacrifice. See the gods and the Gandharvas have come down in their bright chariots with their attendants to take you with your family to the happy regions above. Your gift has achieved swarga for you, as well as for your ancestors. Hunger destroys the understanding of men. It makes them go aside from the path of rectitude. It leads them to evil thoughts. The pious, when suffering the pangs of hunger, lose their steadfastness. But you have, even when hungry, bravely set aside your attachment to wife and son and placed dharma above all else. Rajasuya sacrifices and horse sacrifices completed in splendor, would pale into insignificance before the great sacrifice you have done through this single act of hospitality. The chariot is waiting for you. Enter and go to swarga, you and your family.' Saying this the mysterious guest disappeared."

Having related this story of the Kurukshetra brahmana who lived by gleaning scattered ears of corn in the field, the weasel continued:

"I was nearby and caught the fragrance wafted from that flour of the brahmana. It made my head all gold. I then went and rolled in joy on the ground where some of the flour had been scattered. It made one side of me into bright gold. I turned on the other side but there was no more flour left and that part of me is still as it was. Desirous of getting my body made all gold, I have been trying every place where men perform great yajnas and penances. I heard that Yudhishthira of world fame was performing a yajna and came here, believing that this sacrifice might come up to the standard. But I found it did not. So, I said that your great aswamedha was not so great as the loft of flour which that brahmana made to his guest." The weasel then disappeared.
 
 

nusrat-diu:
102. YUDHISHTHIRA RULES

MAN pursues madly the object of his desire until it is got. When it is in his possession, he is soon satisfied, but he becomes the slave of ever-fresh longings and fresh griefs and finds no peace.

Although to fight and to kill his enemies is a Kshatriyas dharma, what joy can one gets out of power and position and wealth acquired by slaughter and grief inflicted on brothers and near relations? It was this that Arjuna pointed out in his powerful plea before Krishna when the battle commenced. Krishna in answer, explained the principles of man's activities and the proper discharge of one's duties. But, what Arjuna felt and argued had also a great deal of force and there was more truth in it than appeared on the surface.

The Pandavas defeated the Kauravas and became the unquestioned sovereigns of the land. They took up their duties and discharged them according to dharma. But, they found not in victory, the joy that they had expected.

"When the Pandavas won and obtained the kingdom, how did they treat Dhritarashtra?" asked king Janamejaya, and Vaisampayana, who recited Vyasa's Mahabharata to the king, tells the story.

The Pandavas with the utmost respect treated Dhritarashtra, who was plunged in a sea of grief. They tried to make him happy. They did nothing to make him feel humiliated. Yudhishthira issued no orders except with his approval. Gandhari, whose hundred sons had disappeared like dream-gold, was looked after by Kuntidevi with loving and sisterly devotion and Draupadi dutifully ministered to them both, with equal respect.

Yudhishthira furnished Dhritarashtra's house with rich seats and beds and decorations and all else that was wanted. He sent from the royal kitchen most dainty and palatable dishes prepared for him. Kripacharya, lived with Dhritarashtra and kept him company. Vyasa comforted him with instructive stories of olden times, calculated to assuage his sorrow.

In the administration of affairs of the State, Yudhishthira consulted Dhritarashtra and conducted himself so as to give him the feeling that in truth the kingdom was ruled on his behalf and that he, as the eldest member of the family, was still the supreme authority.

Yudhishthira was most careful in his speech, never to allow himself to say anything to cause pain to the bereaved old man. The princes, who came to Hastinapura from all parts of the world, gave Dhritarashtra the same honors; as they did of old, as if he were still the emperor.

The women attendants gave Gandhari no occasion to feel her fallen estate. Yudhishthira had instructed his brothers most strictly that nothing should be done to cause the slightest pain to their uncle, who had lost all his sons.

The brothers, with perhaps the exception of Bhima, followed this injunction faithfully. Dhritarashtra too conducted himself lovingly towards the Pandavas. He showed no ill will towards them even as they showed him no unkindness. The Pandavas behaved unexceptionably towards their old uncle. After a time, however, Bhima began on occasions to give cause for offence. He would sometimes, in impatience, countermand the old man's instructions. He would let fall in Dhritarashtra's hearing words like "Those perverse cousins of ours have themselves to thank for their destruction."

It was not possible for Bhima to forget or forgive Duryodhana, Karna or Duhsasana. Gandhari felt intensely grieved when she noticed that Bhima uttered words, which pained Dhritarashtra. She was, however, a noble and enlightened soul. Whenever she felt pained at what Bhima said, she would look at Kunti and find peace. For Kunti was a veritable embodiment of dharma and inspired forbearance. Fifteen years passed in this manner.
 
 

nusrat-diu:
103. DHRITARASHTRA

FIFTEEN years passed under king Yudhishthira's reign, when old Dhritarashtra found himself utterly unable any longer to bear the burden of grief.

Hurt by Bhima's occasional reproaches, he found no heart to accept the courtesies and comforts provided under king Yudhishthira's orders. Unknown to the Pandavas, he secretly fasted and underwent hard penances.

Gandhari too observed manifests and inflicted privation on her. And one day Dhritarashtra sent for Dharmaputra and spoke to him thus:

"Son, blessings on you. I have spent fifteen happy years under your roof. You have tended me most lovingly. I have made gifts and offerings to ancestors and fulfilled all my desires in that respect. Bereaved Gandhari, laying aside her own grief, has ministered to my physical wants all these years. My cruel sons, who committed unforgivable wrong to Draupadi and deprived you of your lawful inheritance, perished on account of their sins. But they fought like brave soldiers and died in the battlefield and have gone to the happy regions reserved for the brave. The time has come when with Gandhari I must do what has to be done for our next state. You know what the sastras have lain down. I must now go to the forest. These robes must be replaced by bark and tattered old clothes, suitable for the life of Vanaprastha. I desire to go and live in the forest, praying for your good. I want your permission for this. Let me follow the practice of our fathers. As king, you will share in the fruits of my penance."

Yudhishthira received a shock when he saw Dhritarashtra and heard him say this. "I did not know," he said, "that you had been fasting and sleeping on the bare ground and mortifying your flesh in this manner. My brothers too were unaware of this. I was misled into believing you were well looked after and happy. Father, you have suffered grief, for which there can be no solace. I see no good in kingdom or pleasures. I am a sinner. Desire and ambition deceived me into this. Let your son Yuyutsu be king, or anyone else you choose. Or if you will do so, you yourself may take up the duties of king and look after the people. I shall go to the forest. Let me terminate this chapter of error. I implore you to save me from further obloquy and burning shame. I am not the king. You are the king. You ask me for permission to go. How then can I give or refuse permission to you? Let me assure you that my anger against Duryodhana is a thing of the past, gone without a trace. Fate willed it and engulfed us all in confusion of mind. And events happened which were not in our control. We are your children, even like Duryodhana and his brothers. Gandhari and Kunti is alike mother to me and command equal regard and filial affection from me, their child. If you go away to the forest, I must go with you and serve you there. If you retire to the woods and leave me here, what joy shall I have in kingship? I prostrate myself before you and implore you to forgive the errors we have been guilty of. Serving you will give me true joy and peace of mind. Give me that opportunity and privilege. Do not desert me."

Dhritarashtra was deeply moved. But he said: "Kunti's beloved son, my mind is fixed on going to the forest and on penance. I can find no peace otherwise now. I have lived under your roof for many years. You and all your people have served me with unstinted devotion. You must permit me now to fulfil my wish and let me go."

Having thus spoken to Yudhishthira, who stood with clasped hands and trembling with agitation, Dhritarashtra turned to Vidura and Kripacharya: "I beg of you to comfort the king and make him grant my prayer. My mind is fixed on the forest. I am unable to speak any more. I am feeling dry in my throat. Perhaps, it is due to age. I have talked too much. I am tired." Saying this, he leaned helplessly on Gandhari and swooned.

Yudhishthira was unable to bear this distress of the grand old man, who had possessed the sinews of an elephant and had had strength enough to crush the metal figure of Bhima into powder.

How lean he had become now and emaciated, with his bones showing through his skin, piteously leaning senseless on Gandhari like one destitute.

"Have I caused all this?" he reproached himself. "Miserable and unworthy am I, ignorant of dharma, devoid of intelligence. A curse on my learning!"

He sprinkled water on Dhritarashtra's face and caressingly stroked him with his soft hands.

When the old man recovered, he tenderly clasped the Pandava to his bosom and muttered: "My dear boy, how sweet is your touch! I am happy."

Then Vyasa entered. When he was acquainted with what had happened, he said to Yudhishthira:

"Do what Dhritarashtra, eldest of the Kurus, desires. Let him go to the forest. He is old. All his sons have gone before him. It is not possible for him much longer to bear his grief. Gandhari, whom God has blessed with enlightenment, has borne her sorrows with courage. Do not stand in the way of their wishes. Let not Dhritarashtra pine away and die here. Let him go and live among the honeyladen flowers of the forest and breathe their fragrance, leaving the cares of the world behind. The dharma of kings is to die in battle or to spend their last days in retirement in the forest. Dhritarashtra has ruled the kingdom and performed yajnas. When you were in the wilderness for thirteen years, he enjoyed the wide earth through his son and gave bounteous gifts. You left him nothing to desire. The time has come for him to do penance. Let him go with your hearty consent, and without anger in his heart."

Dharmaraja said: "So be it!"

Then Vyasa returned to his hermitage.
 

 
 

nusrat-diu:
104. The Passing Away Of The Three
WHEN Yudhishthira at last gave his consent for Dhritarashtra's retirement to the forest, Dhritarashtra and Gandhari went back to their residence and broke their fast.

Kunti sat with Gandhari and they ate together. Dhritarashtra asked Yudhishthira to sit by him and gave him his last blessings.

Then the old man stepped out and, with his hand resting on Gandhari's shoulder, slowly walked out of the city on his journey to the forest.

Gandhari, who, because her lord and husband was blind, gave up the use of her eyes and wrapped her face with a cloth all her life, placed her hand on Kunti's shoulder and slowly walked along, thus guided.

Kunti had decided in her mind to go with Gandhari to the forest. As she walked on, she was speaking to Yudhishthira: "Son, do not ever let your speech be angry when you speak to Sahadeva. Remember with love Karna who died a hero's death on the battlefield. He was my son, but I committed the crime of not disclosing it to you. Look after Draupadi with unfailing tenderness. Do not ever give cause for grief to Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva. Keep this ever in mind, son. The burden of the family is now wholly on you."

Dharmaputra had till then believed that Kunti was accompanying Gandhari only for a distance to say goodbye. When he heard her speak thus, he was taken aback and was speechless for a few minutes.

When he recovered from the shock he said: "Mother, not thus! You blessed us and sent us to battle. It is not right you should now desert us and go to the forest."

Yudhishthira's entreaties were however of no avail. Kunti held to her purpose.

"I must join my lord and husband wherever he be now. I shall be with Gandhari and go through the discipline of forest life and soon join your father. Go back unagitated. Return to the city. May your mind ever stand steady on dharma." Thus did Kunti bless her illustrious son and depart.

Yudhishthira stood speechless. Kunti went on her way, looking back occasionally at him and her other sons.

Each with hand on the shoulder of the other, this picture of the three elders of the tribe wending their way to the forest, leaving their sons behind, is painted by the poet so vividly that it fills the reader with solemn grief, as if the parting happened in his own family now.

Dhritarashtra, Gandhari and Kunti spent three years in the forest. Sanjaya was with them. When one day, Dhritarashtra finished his ablutions and returned to their hermitage, the forest had caught fire.

The wind blew and the flames spread everywhere. The deer and the wild boars ran in herds hither and thither, and rushed madly to the pools.

Dhritarashtra told Sanjaya: "This fire will envelop us all. You had better save yourself."

Saying this, the blind old king, Gandhari with her eves blindfolded and Kunti sat down on the ground, the three of them, facing eastwards in yoga posture and calmly gave themselves up to the flames.

Sanjaya, who had been to the blind king, throughout all his days, his only light and was dear to him like life itself, spent the rest of his days in the Himalayas as a sanyasin.
 

 
 

nusrat-diu:
105. KRISHNA PASSES AWAY

KRISHNA ruled at Dwaraka for thirty-six years after the Kurukshetra battle was over.  The Vrishnis, the Bhopas and other branches of the Yadavas belonging to Krishna's tribe spent their days in unrestrained self-indulgence and luxury. They lost all sense of discipline and humility.

Once, some rishis came to Dwaraka. The arrogant and irreverent Yadavas mocked these rishis with a practical joke. They dressed up one of their young men like a woman and, presenting him to the revered guests, said: "O ye learned men, tell us whether this lady will have a boy or a girl."

The rishis saw through the irreverent joke and said in anger: "This person will give birth to a mace, not a boy or a girl and that mace will prove to be Yama to your tribe and destroy you all." The rishis departed after pronouncing this curse.

The foolish Yadavas were rather perturbed at this unpleasant ending of what they had thought was a good joke.

Next day, they were in consternation to see that Samba, the man who had been dressed up in female clothes, developed labor pains and lo and behold, gave birth to a mace! This filled them with terror because they felt that their end was near as the rishis had cursed.

They deliberated long and finally ground the mace to fine powder, which they scattered in the sea, and thought they, had thus disposed of the danger.

Nothing happened for some time. Seasons passed. The rains came and on the beach, near where they had strewn the fine dust of the awful club, there sprang up a dense, crop of rushes.

When the Yadavas saw this, they were curious and amused, for they had forgotten all about the curse of the revered guests.

One day, long after, the Yadavas went to the beach for a picnic and spent the whole day in dance and drink and revelry. The liquor began to work.

At first merry, then pugnacious, they began to talk without restrain, raking up old offences and quarrelling, on slight cause with one another. Among the Yadavas, Kritavarma had fought on the side of the Kauravas and Satyaki on that of the Pandavas.

"Would any Kshatriya attack and kill sleeping soldiers, O Kritavarma? You have brought a great and lasting disgrace on our tribe," said Satyaki, taunting Kritavarma, and a number of drunken Yadavas applauded the attack. Kritavarma could not bear the insult.

"Like a butcher, you slaughtered the great Bhurisravas when seated in yoga after his right hand was cut off and you, coward, dare to taunt me," he exclaimed and a number of the revelers joined him and began to scoff at Satyaki for his barbarous deed.

Soon, all the Yadavas were in the quarrel on one side or the other and presently from words they came to blows, which swiftly developed into a free fight.

Satyaki, with his sword drawn, sprang upon Kritavarma and cut his head off, exclaiming: "Here is the end of the coward who killed sleeping soldiers! "

Others immediately fell upon Satyaki with their drinking bowls and pots and anything they could lay hands upon.

Pradyumna, Krishna's son, joined the fray to rescue Satyaki and there was a desperate melee in which both Satyaki and Pradyumna were killed.

Krishna knew that the destined hour was come, and plucking the tall rushes, which fringed the beach, laid about him with them indiscriminately.

This led to every one of the Yadavas doing the same and there was great indiscriminate slaughter. The rishis' curse had begun to work.

The rushes that had grown out of the mace became each one of them a mace as it was plucked by the doomed men in their unreasonable fury. They used them on one another with deadly effect and soon all of them were destroyed in this drunken brawl.

Balarama, who was seeing all this, was overwhelmed with shame and disgust and sank to the ground. He gave up his life as he lay in a yoga trance. Balarama passed away into the ocean in a stream of light, which issued from his forehead like a silver serpent. Thus ended the avatar of Narayana in Balarama.

Krishna saw all his people thus destroy themselves as predestined. When he saw the passing of Balarama, he roamed about in deep meditation in the wilderness, pondering on the completion of his avatar. "The time has come for me to go," he said to himself and, lying on the ground fell asleep.

In that wooded beach, a hunter, prowling for game, saw Vasudeva lying on the ground among the shrubs. From a distance, the hunter mistook Krishna for a wild animal resting on the ground.

He bent his bow and shot an arrow at the prostrate figure which, piercing his foot in the insteep, went full through his body. Thus did the great Vasudeva depart from the world of men.
 

 
 

Navigation

[0] Message Index

[#] Next page

[*] Previous page