Jaya: An Illustrated Retelling of the Mahabharata Read online

  Every day, before marching into the battlefield, Duryodhana would go to his mother and ask for her blessings and she would say, ‘May the right side win.’ Duryodhana knew that his mother’s word always came true, so he begged her to say, ‘May my sons win,’ but she refused to say so.

  But after Bhima had killed ninety-nine of her sons, Gandhari’s maternal instincts got the better of her. ‘Righteous or not, Duryodhana is still our son,’ Dhritarashtra told her.

  So Gandhari instructed Duryodhana to take a bath before the crack of dawn and come before her totally naked. ‘I will open my blindfold for the first time since the day of my marriage and look upon you. My eyes, shut for all these years, are filled with the power of my piety and fidelity. Every part of your body that I gaze upon with my first glance will become impervious to weapons.’

  Accordingly, Duryodhana removed his clothes, took a bath and walked naked towards his mother’s chambers. On the way, he saw Krishna emerge from the darkness. Krishna looked at his nakedness and laughed, ‘Have some shame. Mother or not, a grown man must at least cover his private parts.’

  An embarrassed Duryodhana took a banana leaf and tied it around his waist covering his thighs and genitals. When he came before his mother, she opened her blindfold and saw her naked son. But when she discovered that he had covered some parts of his body, she began to cry, ‘Oh my son. That part of your body that you have covered will remain vulnerable. And that will be your death.’

  In fear, Duryodhana ran and hid inside a lake on the far side of the battlefield. Bhima and the other Pandavas spent the eighteenth day, after the death of Shalya, searching for the eldest Kaurava. So long as he was alive, the war was not over. They finally found him hiding inside the lake. ‘Come out, coward,’ shouted Bhima.

  ‘I am no coward,’ said Duryodhana, rising up. ‘I was just resting my tired limbs so that they can kill you without much effort.’

  As Krishna and the Pandavas watched, Bhima and Duryodhana prepared to duel. They were like two wild elephants in heat. Their eyes were red and their massive arms, covered with sweat, shone like pillars of gold in the afternoon sun. Both these warriors had learned the art of mace warfare from Krishna’s elder brother, Balarama. Both were equal in strength. Sure enough, try as he might, Bhima could not subdue Duryodhana. He managed to defend himself deftly, moving his limbs swiftly each time Bhima swung his mace.

  As the maces clanged, Bhima turned to Krishna in despair.

  Krishna looked straight into his eyes and then slapped his thigh close to his genitals. Bhima realized that this is where Krishna wanted him to strike Duryodhana. But was that not against the rules of war? But Bhima never questioned Krishna’s wisdom. He swung his mace and smashed it where Duryodhana least expected it: below the waist, breaking his thighs and crushing his genitals.

  ‘This is foul play,’ cried Duryodhana as he fell to the ground. But neither Bhima nor Krishna apologized. ‘Adharma, adharma,’ shouted Duryodhana. He called out to his teacher, Balarama, ‘Come, see, how instigated by your brother this student of yours breaks the code of war to kill me, your favourite.’

  Balarama appeared on the battlefield at that very moment and saw the smashed thighs of Duryodhana. Enraged, he raised his plough and threatened to kill Bhima. Bhima bowed his head to receive the blow when Krishna came in between. ‘Those who live by the law of the jungle die by the law of the jungle,’ said Krishna, his voice cold. Balarama saw the dispassionate truth of that statement and lowered his plough.

  Duryodhana lay on the ground, unable to stand up or raise his head, bleeding to death, surrounded by all the victors. He mourned his tragic end while the Pandavas let out whoops of victory and jeered their fallen cousin. Bhima, unable to contain his joy, jumped on Duryodhana’s head and began to dance.

  ‘Stop,’ cried Krishna in outrage. ‘How can you humiliate him so? He is your brother, a king, a warrior. Has he not been punished already? Must you not be gracious in victory?’

  A shame-faced Bhima lowered his head and followed his brothers to their battle camp where Draupadi, unable to contain her excitement, was busy making preparations to celebrate this great victory.

  As they moved away, Duryodhana called out from behind them and said, ‘All my life I have lived as a prince in the palace and today I die like a warrior on the battlefield. You have spent most of your lives in the forest, like beggars and thieves, hiding in fear, and now you inherit a world of corpses. Who has lived a better life than me? Who has died a better death than me?’

  The story of Gandhari’s failed attempt to make her son invulnerable to weapons is similar to the Greek tale of the sea nymph Thetis dipping her son Achilles in the river Styx, so that most of his body except the part she held—his ankles—became impervious to weapons.

  Kuru was an ancestor of the Pandavas and he had tilled the land that came to be known as Kuru-kshetra or the field of Kuru. He had used the bull of Shiva, god of asceticism, and the buffalo of Yama, god of death, to pull the plough. He used his own flesh as the seed, thus pleasing the gods who offered him a boon. He asked that the gods allow any man who died on this land into paradise.

  Bhasa in his play, Urubhangam, dated 100 CE, introduces a character not known in the epic, Duryodhana’s young son, Durjaya, who on seeing his father wants to sit on his lap but is stopped as Duryodhana’s thigh is broken. The fallen villain, full of remorse, advises his son to serve his victorious uncles, the Pandavas, well.

  In Tamil Nadu, the eighteen-day war is ritually enacted during the Terukkuttu performance, in which a giant image of Duryodhana lying on the ground is made out of the earth. On the right thigh is placed a pot full of red fluid. This pot is smashed at the end of the performance by the actor playing Bhima who goes into a frenzied trance. After this ritual, the crowds swarm to take fistfuls of the mud used to make Duryodhana’s image; kept well, it is supposed to protect grain from getting lost or spoilt in granaries.

  The gap between ‘what is mine’ and ‘what is not mine’ is an artificial construct, not a natural phenomenon that is created and can be destroyed by the human mind. The animal mind, the Kaurava mind, is unable to fathom this and hence tenaciously clings to land and is filled with rage and fear till the very end. Krishna’s focus is to help the Pandavas outgrow the territorial beast within and realize the divine potential. But it is not easy. Though Krishna helps Bhima defeat Duryodhana, he is unable to teach Bhima empathy for the enemy. For him, Duryodhana remains ‘not mine’. Unless there is empathy and inclusion, dharma cannot be established. Bhima reduces the war to a tale of revenge rather than looking at it as a stimulus for inner transformation.

  The Kauravas are villains in the epic only because they refuse to outgrow the animal desire to cling to territory and dominate like an alpha male. Krishna helps the Pandavas undergo the transformation, but as events unfold, one realizes there is a huge gap between the intention and the implementation.

  Duryodhana is worshipped as a benevolent deity in Har-Ki-Doon Valley in Uttarakhand. Wooden temples dedicated to the epic villain are found there.

  91

  Talking head

  The sun set for the eighteenth time since the start of the war. The victorious Pandavas returned to the battle camp where they were greeted by a very happy Draupadi who showered upon them fragrant flowers.

  Arjuna waited for Krishna to alight from the chariot. But Krishna showed no signs of doing so. This annoyed Arjuna for in keeping with tradition, the charioteer gets down first and only then the archer. An exasperated Arjuna got down from the chariot while Krishna continued to sit. As soon as Krishna alighted, the chariot burst into flames.

  Krishna then informed Arjuna that his chariot had long ago been destroyed by Drona. Arjuna realized that the only thing that kept the chariot going was Krishna’s presence. Krishna’s apparent act of disrespect was meant to protect him. So long as Krishna sat on the chariot, it did not burst into flames. Arjuna, smug in victory, thus learnt a lesson in humility. Without Krishna by the