The Puffin Mahabharata Read online

  Devavrata was too intelligent to be fooled by such evasive statements. He questioned the king’s charioteer and came to know the story of his father’s frustrated love for the fisher-maiden. Where other sons may have felt threatened at the prospect of their father remarrying, Devavrata was only full of sympathy for his father’s dilemma. ‘I must help my father,’ he resolved.

  Devavrata went to meet the king of the fishermen. ‘Please allow your daughter to marry my father, King Santanu,’ he entreated.

  Uparichara listened politely to Devavrata. ‘I would gladly do as you say, honoured prince,’ he said, ‘but I have already made my condition clear. My daughter deserves not only to become the queen of King Santanu, but also the mother of the future king. As you have already been anointed the crown prince by your father, my daughter’s children, my grandchildren, can never inherit the throne and the kingdom.’

  Devavrata listened patiently to this outburst. ‘I will do anything for my father’s happiness,’ he replied. ‘I give you my word that I shall never aspire to inherit the throne or the kingdom. The son born of your daughter shall be crowned king when the time comes. I renounce all my rights as my father’s eldest son to be his heir apparent, if that can persuade you to let your daughter marry my father.’

  The chief of the fishermen was astounded by the young man’s generosity and lack of greed or pride. However, he was still not completely satisfied by Devavrata’s reply. ‘I am sure that you fully mean what you say at this moment,’ he said, ‘but what of the future? You are a hero, the pride of the Bharata race; your sons too will be heroes like you. What if they are unhappy with your decision to renounce the throne? They may declare war on my grandchildren and seize the kingdom by force! A man must look ahead when he plans his daughter’s future.’

  Devavrata thought for a while before replying. ‘There is only one way out,’ he said at last. ‘I vow that I shall never marry or have children. I promise to renounce the joys of a wife and family. I shall live a life of celibacy forever so that I have no sons who can challenge your grandsons’ throne.’

  It is not easy for a young man, and a crown prince at that, to be so unselfish. As the gods and immortals heard Devavrata make his vow (for they can hear anything, anywhere and at any time), they were struck by his resolve. ‘Bhishma,’ they cried as they applauded him and showered flowers upon him from the heavens. ‘Bhishma! Bhishma!’ ‘Bhishma’ means someone who has undertaken a difficult vow and cannot be moved from his word. From that moment onwards, until he died many years later at the battlefield in Kurukshetra, Devavrata was known to all as Bhishma.

  Santanu was married to Satyawati, princess of the fisherfolk. The royal couple had two sons, Chitrangad and Vichitravirya. Bhishma was pleased to see his father so happy, and his father too was moved by his son’s loving sacrifice. In gratitude, Santanu granted him a boon. ‘Take these words as my gift,’ he said. ‘Death will never come to you, O Bhishma, as long as you wish to live. It is only when you decide to die, and when you yourself grant permission to the lord of death to approach you, that your time in this world will be over.’

  Santanu retired to a forest hermitage by the banks of the Ganga. Bhishma governed the kingdom on behalf of his two younger brothers, who were too young to rule. Chitrangad was killed in a battle with a gandharva, and his brother Vichitravirya became the heir apparent to the kingdom.

  Soon it was time for Vichitravirya to marry and have children to continue the royal line. Bhishma took it upon himself to find a suitable bride for his brother.

  The Story of Amba

  It was customary in those days for a princess to choose her husband through a swayamvara. The ceremony would be held at her father’s court. Princes and kings from near and far who wanted to marry her would gather to demonstrate their valour and courage, through a test. The princess would garland her chosen suitor, usually the victor, to indicate she was willing to marry him.

  It came to Bhishma’s notice that the king of Kashi was planning to hold a swayamvara for his daughters, Amba, Ambika and Ambalika. He, too, decided to attend the ceremony. The handsome young princes of Koshala, Pundra, Banga and Kalinga had all come to Kashi to vie for the favours of the beautiful princesses. They were amazed to see Bhishma, who was much older than all of them, at the palace. ‘What on earth is this old man doing here?’ they asked each other, not realizing that the noble warrior had come to win a bride for his younger brother Prince Vichitravirya. Little did they know that Bhishma was the greatest athlete and archer of his time.

  When the time arrived for the contest, Bhishma defeated all the princes with ease and won the three princesses, Amba, Ambika and Ambalika. He set off with them in his chariot, already planning the grand festivities for the wedding ceremony of Vichitravirya.

  Amba, the eldest of the three princesses, had made up her mind to marry Salva, the king of the lands of Sambala, and no one else. Salva, too, had fallen hopelessly in love with the beautiful Amba and was dismayed by Bhishma’s victory at the swayamvara. Resolving to win back his beloved, he set off in a cloud of dust in pursuit of Bhishma’s chariot.

  Salva stopped Bhishma’s chariot midway to Hastinapura and challenged the great warrior to fight him. Bhishma, who had never been defeated in battle, soon began to get the better of Salva. Amba watched in horror as the two men struggled, with Salva teetering on the brink of defeat. She could not watch him die before her eyes. ‘Stop!’ she screamed. ‘Noble Bhishma, you cannot kill the man I love!’

  Kuru warriors were bound by a very strict code of honour. They could not kill an adversary when someone pleaded for his life. Bhishma turned scornfully to Salva. ‘You may go,’ he said, dismissing him. ‘Your life has been saved by a mere woman!’ Gathering the three princesses back into the chariot, he set off again for Hastinapura, where Vichitravirya awaited his three brides.

  Amba wept bitter tears as the dejected figure of Salva receded behind her. ‘My life is ruined,’ she sobbed, and Ambika and Ambalika tried their best to console her.

  Once they arrived in Hastinapura, the preparations for the wedding began. Amba still could not forget Salva. She confronted Bhishma again. ‘I have resolved to marry Salva, not your brother Vichitravirya,’ she declared, ‘and nothing can ever make me change my mind.’

  Bhishma was confused. He was a righteous and just man, who always wanted to be honourable. What was the right course of action? Would it be fair to force the unwilling Amba to marry Vichitravirya?

  Finally, Bhishma came to a decision. ‘You may marry Salva,’ he told Amba and sent her, escorted by handmaidens, in the royal chariot to Salva’s kingdom of Sambala.

  However, Amba’s troubles were far from over. Salva had been angry and humiliated at being defeated in battle by Bhishma while fighting for Amba’s favour. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, when she arrived at his palace. ‘Bhishma has won you not once but twice: first at your swayamvara at Kashi and then when I challenged him on the way to Hastinapura. You belong to him, not to me. I cannot marry you, now or ever.’

  Poor Amba! It was hard being a woman in a world where the menfolk decided on everything that women could or could not do. She returned to Hastinapura and told Bhishma what had happened. ‘What should I do now?’ she wondered.

  Bhishma attempted to persuade Vichitravirya to marry Amba. He had already married Ambika and Ambalika. But Vichitravirya refused. ‘She has already given her heart to another man!’ he exclaimed. ‘It would hurt my honour if I married her now.’

  Amba turned to Bhishma. Her lustrous eyes were full of tears. ‘If nobody will marry me, you must,’ she entreated.

  Although Bhishma felt sorry for Amba and was moved by her tears, he could not do as she said. He was bound by the promise he had made to King Uparichara that he would never marry and have children. He was a warrior and he had to keep his vow, whatever the circumstances.

  Rejected by Salva, Vichitravirya and Bhishma, Amba felt betrayed and humiliated. She was even angrier with Bhishma th
an she was with Salva, for she felt that he alone was the cause of her troubles. ‘I will take my revenge on Bhishma,’ Amba vowed. ‘I will be the cause of his death.’

  For many years, Amba tried to avenge her humiliation. One by one, she tried to provoke Bhishma’s enemies to rise against him, but to no avail. Finally, she turned to Parshurama. She knew that only he had the courage to confront the invincible Bhishma. It was a long and bloody battle, but in the end, Bhishma defeated Parshurama.

  Amba was an exceedingly determined person. Consumed with despair and the desire for revenge, she went to the high, snowy Himalayas and meditated and prayed to Lord Shiva (also known as Adideva), the god of all the gods. After many, many years of such austerity, Lord Shiva appeared before her. ‘I am pleased with your prayers, Amba! I will grant you whatever boon you please,’ he said.

  Even after so many years of meditation, Amba had not forgotten her intense hatred for Bhishma. ‘I desire only one boon, O Shiva,’ she replied. ‘I want to be the cause of Bhishma’s death, as revenge for his destroying my life.’

  The incongruity of the opponents—the mighty warrior against the delicate princess—did not perplex Shiva. He never disappoints those who pray to him sincerely. ‘In your next birth, you will surely slay Bhishma,’ Shiva assured Amba.

  So impatient was Amba to undertake her revenge that she lit a blazing fire and leapt into the pyre to kill herself. Amba was born again as the daughter of King Drupad. She was to grow up into a mighty warrior, and in time, disguised as the male warrior Sikhandin, she was destined to kill Bhishma in battle. But that was yet to be.

  Meanwhile, the sisters Ambika and Ambalika were married to Vichitravirya, but the Kuru king was weak and kept poor health. Soon after his wedding, he died, leaving his wives childless. Their mother-in-law Satyawati mourned for her son and felt desperately sorry for her two young widowed daughters-in-law. Bhishma, too, was worried about the future of the royal family line and the governance of the kingdom.

  When Satyawati married Santanu, she already had a son, Vyasa. As was the custom in those days, Bhishma requested Satyawati to ask Vyasa to act as a substitute husband for Ambika and Ambalika so that they might have sons who could govern the land.

  Vyasa could not refuse his mother. He lived for a month with Ambika and for another with Ambalika, and then for a third month with Sudri, one of Satyawati’s maids. When he had done his duty and fathered three sons, he left again for the forest hermitage where he lived.

  When the children were born, Bhishma raised them as his own. Ambika’s son, the firstborn Dhritarashtra, was blessed with strength and courage. But he was born blind, and so the kingdom was entrusted to Ambalika’s son Pandu. The young Pandu was fair-skinned, but somewhat sickly. The maid’s son was named Vidura and brought up by Bhishma with the other two boys.

  The Birth of Karna

  In the nearby kingdom of Pritha, Surasena, the father of Vasudeva and the grandfather of Lord Krishna, had a beautiful daughter called Pritha. As his cousin Kuntibhoja was childless, the young Pritha was given by Sura to be adopted by Kuntibhoja. From that day onwards, she was known as Kunti.

  When Kunti was a young girl, the sage Durvasa visited Kuntibhoja. Kunti looked after their holy guest with great devotion. Pleased with her kindness and hospitality, Durvasa gave her a boon. ‘I will teach you a secret mantra,’ he said. ‘If, after repeating this mantra, you call upon any god, he will visit you and give you a son equal to him in glory.’

  One day, when Kunti was playing by herself, she saw Surya, the sun god, shining in the heavens in all his glory. Impulsively, she repeated the divine mantra that Durvasa had taught her to summon the gods. At once, the sky grew dark, as the radiant sun god left the heavens and came to Kunti’s side. The rays of the sun shone around Surya’s head in a glittering golden crown. Long, heavy gold earrings, his kundalas, hung from his ears. His golden armour, his kavach, shone on his body. The sun god was handsome beyond belief.

  ‘Who are you?’ Kunti inquired, dazzled by his splendour.

  ‘I am Surya, the sun god,’ he replied. ‘You called and I have come, to give you a child as strong and valiant as I am.’

  ‘But I have no husband, Lord Surya,’ Kunti stuttered in dismay. ‘How can I have a son?’

  ‘You have invoked the mantra’s power,’ Surya replied. ‘You must now bear my son. The children of the gods are born in one day. Have no fear, beautiful maiden.’

  The next evening Kunti gave birth to a handsome child. He was born wearing golden armour and earrings, and he shone with the splendour of his father, Surya. Afraid to tell her father of what had happened, Kunti placed the child in a straw basket, which she lined carefully to make it waterproof. She took the basket to the banks of the river Yamuna, where she set it adrift in the flowing waters. ‘May the river goddess guide you to happiness,’ she whispered to the sleeping child. She watched the basket bob downstream until it disappeared into the horizon. Then she returned home and wept to herself, worrying ceaselessly about her abandoned son.

  As the Yamuna flowed into the Ganga, the child was safely washed ashore into the hands of a charioteer called Adiratha. Adiratha and his wife were childless, and delighted by the unexpected gift of a lovely baby. ‘This is surely the child of a god!’ Adiratha exclaimed. ‘His armour shines bright as the sun, and his gold earrings radiate a divine splendour. We shall name him Karna and train him to be a mighty warrior!’

  The Birth of the Pandavas

  The time came for Kunti to be married. Kuntibhoja invited all the kings and princes of the neighbouring states for a splendid swayamvara. Eager suitors rushed to the palace. Among them was Pandu, whom Kunti chose as her future husband by placing a garland of white flowers around his neck. They were married and returned to Hastinapura.

  In the meantime, Bhishma, too, had been looking for a bride for his nephew. Quite unaware of Pandu’s wedding to Kunti, he promised him in marriage to Madri, daughter of the Madra king Salya. Thus Pandu had not one but two wives. They lived together happily in Hastinapura.

  In those days hunting was the sport of kings. One day, Pandu went to the forest for a hunt. A holy sage and his wife were roaming together in the forest, disguised as a doe and deer. As they were making love to each other, Pandu saw them, took aim with his bow and arrow, and shot them. He was of course quite unaware of the real identity of his victims. Both the doe and deer were fatally wounded.

  Though still disguised in the form of a deer, the sage spoke in his human voice to curse Pandu. ‘Hear my death curse,’ he said, even as the last breath was leaving his body. ‘For your cruelty in killing me while I made love, I curse you to suffer the same fate! You too shall die when you next sleep beside your wife.’

  Pandu decided to retire to the forest and live the life of a holy man, to atone for the sin he had committed accidentally. He urged his wives, Kunti and Madri, to remain at the palace in Hastinapura, but they insisted on accompanying him into exile. ‘I am of no use as a king or a husband,’ Pandu sighed, ‘for I can no longer have children to carry on my line.’

  It was then that Kunti confided to him about the boon granted to her by Sage Durvasa. ‘You need not despair,’ she told Pandu. ‘We can still have children. By the power of the mantra Durvasa taught me, I can have children from any god I desire.’ Pandu was overjoyed. The first child, Yudhishthira was born of Dharma, the god of justice and righteousness. Their second son, Bhima, was born of Vayu, the god of the wind. Arjuna, the third, was born of Indra, the lord of the heavens.

  Madri begged Kunti to let her too use the power of Durvasa’s mantra. Kunti, who was always generous and kind, did as Madri requested. Madri invoked the Ashwins, the twin horsemen who are the gods of dawn. She named the twin sons that she bore Nakula and Sahadeva.

  The Birth of the Kauravas

  When Pandu left for the forest hermitage with Kunti and Madri, Dhritarashtra was left to rule the kingdom alone. Bhishma sent messengers to the mountain kingdom of Gandhara to ask for the hand
of the king’s daughter Gandhari in marriage.

  Gandhari travelled to Hastinapura with her brother Sakuni to marry Dhritarashtra. She had dreams, as young girls do, of what her future husband would be like. She hoped he would admire her beauty and fall in love with her. It was only after she arrived at Hastinapura that she discovered that her future husband had been blind since birth. But Gandhari was a very noble and strong-minded girl. When she discovered this, she resolved to blindfold herself all her life long, and share her husband’s handicap. And so the young girl from the mountains of Gandhara sacrificed her sight and embraced darkness.

  Dhritarashtra grew to love his wife fiercely. When she became pregnant, he impatiently awaited the birth of their child. More than a year passed, and still Gandhari’s pregnancy continued. She finally gave birth after two years. A hard ball of flesh emerged from her womb, which was divided into a hundred and one pieces, each of which was placed in a bronze jar filled with clear butter. So in time the hundred and one children of Dhritarashtra and Gandhari came to be born. The first of their sons was named Duryodhana, and the second Dusasana. The remaining ninety-eight were also sons, and the last one was a daughter named Dushala. Their parents, the king and the queen, rejoiced and were content, as they watched their children grow to manhood in the palace grounds.

  Pandu’s Death

  Meanwile, Pandu, Kunti and Madri continued living in the forests, in a hidden valley of the Himalayas, far away from the palace in Hastinapura. They watched with delight as their five sons, the Pandavas, became accomplished young men. The golden-eyed Yudhishthira and his powerfully-built brother Bhima were fair-skinned. The middle brother, Arjuna, was dark, strong and valiant. Nakula and Sahadeva were mischievous and full of fun. In his joy and contentment, Pandu quite forgot the curse that the sage, who had died in the disguise of a deer, had set upon him.