The Puffin Mahabharata Read online

  One day, an arrow from the god of love, Kamadeva, fell upon Pandu. He held his wife Madri and caressed her. The sage’s curse was fulfilled, and Pandu died in Madri’s arms.

  Madri was stricken with grief and guilt. She blamed herself for what had happened. Her screams and lamentations rent the skies. ‘I don’t want to live any more,’ she wept. ‘I will die with you, beloved husband!’ And so the two died, like the sage and his wife before them, so many years ago.

  Kunti was left a widow, with five young sons to raise. Two holy men, who were wandering through the forest, found the bodies of Pandu and Madri and cremated them. Then they escorted the weeping Kunti and her five sons back on the long journey to Hastinapura.

  Bhishma, Dhritarashtra and Vidura were shattered when they heard the news of Pandu’s death. The holy men handed the ashes of Pandu and Madri to Vidura, and left again for the mountains. The rest of the family consoled the grieving Kunti.

  Kripa and Drona

  As the Kauravas and the Pandavas grew up in Hastinapura, their grand-uncle Bhishma continued to look after them, as he had done with their parents and grandparents before them. He watched over them carefully, guiding them on how to conduct themselves as great warriors and noble kings. But Bhishma knew they needed other teachers. He was eager that the one hundred and five boys—his wards—should learn the art of war and become skilful in the handling of difficult weapons. He searched far and wide for a suitable teacher, and finally appointed Kripa, a skilled archer.

  Kripa had been found in the forest, along with his twin sister, during the reign of Santanu. The man who found them, in a bush near Hastinapura, was a Kuru soldier. They were bundled in a deerskin, with a strung bow and arrow beside them. The little boy held on tightly to the arrow and would not let go of it. The soldier took them back to the palace, where he presented them before Santanu. ‘They are clearly the children of a Brahmin well skilled in archery,’ the king observed. ‘I name the boy Kripa and his little sister shall be called Kripi. Let them be raised in my palace from now on.’ Kripa grew up to be skilled in archery, while Kripi became a beautiful young maiden. She was married to Drona, the son of the sage Bharadwaja.

  Drona grew up in his father’s ashram, where the Panchala king had sent his son Drupad to study. The two boys became friends. Then the Panchala king died and Drupad returned to become king in his place.

  After Drona married Kripi, they too went to Panchala. They were poor and their son, Ashwathama, had very little to eat or drink. Drona explained to Ashwathama that they were poor and must learn to do without, but such lessons are hard for a little boy to understand. One morning, Ashwathama returned home weeping. All the boys who he played with were used to drinking milk, which was a luxury he had never tasted. They offered him a drink made of white rice-water mixed with water. ‘Why don’t you taste some milk?’ they mocked. Ashwathama danced with joy, believing that the rice-paste he was drinking was milk. Once he finished, the other boys teased him mercilessly.

  Ashwathama returned home and wept. Kripi tried to comfort him. Drona too was upset—he felt he had failed as a father. He resolved to visit Kampilya, the capital of Panchala, and meet his childhood friend, King Drupad. He was sure Drupad could help him build a better life.

  Drona travelled the long distance from his village to Kampilya and sought an audience with the king. ‘Don’t you remember me?’ he asked the proud Drupad eagerly. ‘I am your friend Drona; we played together as children at my father’s hermitage.’

  King Drupad frowned at Drona with arrogant displeasure. ‘I have friends and enemies only among my equals,’ he exclaimed. ‘You are poor, lazy and unlucky. Don’t you dare call yourself my friend!’

  Although Drona remained silent after listening to Drupad’s rude comments, he resolved in his heart to take his revenge someday. He returned home to Kripi and Ashwathama, and told them it was time to leave the kingdom of Panchala. They left for Kripi’s childhood home of Hastinapura.

  The Lessons of Dronacharya

  The Kauravas and the Pandavas were happy to be taught by Kripa. They called him Kripacharya, Kripa the teacher, and treated him with the deep respect due to all teachers.

  One day, the five Pandavas were playing with a ball in the fields outside the Hastinapura gates. It fell into a deep, dark well. Though they tried their hardest, they could not get it out.

  Just then, Kripa’s brother-in-law Drona happened to be passing the city gates. He saw the young princes struggling to extract the ball from inside the well. ‘I will help you,’ he said.

  Drona plucked a handful of durba grass and recited a magical mantra over it. He leaned over the edge of the well and threw in a long blade of grass, which pierced the ball. Then he threw in another, which connected with the first, and then another, until a long chain was formed. Drona pulled the ball out before the astonished Pandavas. ‘It’s quite easy if you know how to do it,’ he told them. ‘Watch this.’

  Drona took a gold ring from his finger and threw it down the well from which he had extracted their ball. ‘Now give me a bow and arrow,’ he said. Arjuna, whose favourite sport was archery, promptly did just that. Drona took aim carefully, and his arrow shot into the well, only to speed back at almost the same moment with the gold ring embedded in its head.

  ‘Teach us your skills,’ Yudhishthira begged, ‘and we will stand by you whenever you need us.’

  Drona smiled. ‘Take the arrow with the ring on it and show it to your grandfather Bhishma,’ he instructed.

  When Bhishma heard what had happened from the excited boys, he knew he had found another worthy teacher. He summoned Drona. ‘You are an excellent marksman,’ he said. ‘Who are you and what are you doing in Hastinapura?’

  ‘I am the son of the sage Bharadwaja. My childhood friend King Drupad insulted me because of my poverty,’ Drona replied. ‘I have come here to live with my brother-in-law Kripa and begin my life anew so that I may some day seek my revenge.’

  Bhishma requested Drona to instruct the Pandavas and the Kauravas along with Kripa. ‘Teach them your skills and whatever rewards you want will be yours,’ he promised.

  Drona and his wife Kripi were no longer poor. They settled down happily in the kingdom of the Kurus and their son Ashwathama studied with the young princes. Every morning, Drona would give each prince a jar with a narrow neck and send them to fetch water from the river. But he always gave Ashwathama a wide-mouthed jar, so that he could return earlier than the princes. In the time before the others returned, Drona would teach his son in secret. But Arjuna learnt to use his arrows to draw water from the river and soon he too began to return earlier than his brothers and cousins. As a result of the extra lessons, Arjuna and Ashwathama became more skilled than all the rest.

  The five sons of Pandu and the hundred sons of Dhritarashtra grew up happily together in Hastinapura, playing and fighting and then making up again as young cousins often do. Bhima was certainly the strongest of them all, and sometimes a bit of a bully. He would drag Duryodhana and the other Kauravas by the hair and beat them up. As he was an excellent swimmer, he would not hesitate to jump into the river, holding one or the other of his cousins clasped under his powerful arms. He would dunk them underwater and keep them there until they begged for mercy. If they were climbing trees, he would shake the trees and drop them down like ripe fruit. None of these things made him very popular with his cousins, who would mutter darkly about his pranks.

  When Dronacharya had finished teaching all he knew to his students, he called them one by one for a final test. As a target, he perched a bird made of straw and cloth high above on the branch of a tree. First, Dronacharya instructed Yudhishthira, the eldest of the Pandavas, to take aim at the bird. ‘What do you see?’ he asked, after his student had positioned his bow and arrow.

  ‘I see the tree, the bird, the bow, the arrow, my arm and you,’ Yudhishthira replied.

  ‘Stand aside,’ said Dronacharya and called in Duryodhana, who gave the same reply, as did his younger
brother Dusasana, and the ninety-eight after him.

  The same question was asked of Ashwathama. He too positioned his bow and arrow, and replied that he could see the bird, the leaves around it, the branches, and then the sky. Dronacharya told him to put down his bow for he was not yet ready to shoot the bird.

  At last it was Arjuna’s turn to be called. ‘Take aim at the bird’s head and then let loose your arrow when I instruct you. Tell me, Arjuna, what is it you see?’

  ‘I see the eye of the bird, and nothing else,’ Arjuna replied.

  Dronacharya rejoiced, for at least one among his students had understood the essence of what he had tried to teach them. ‘I have made you the best bowman in all the world! You have learnt well, Arjuna,’ he exclaimed. ‘Now you may shoot.’

  Arjuna effortlessly shot down the dummy bird with his bow and arrow. Dronacharya turned to his other students. ‘How you aim your arrow is more important than how you shoot it,’ he said. ‘Remember this in life and in sport, and you will always be victorious.’

  Now that his students had learnt all that he had to teach, it was time for Drona to seek his guru dakshina, the duty owed to a teacher. ‘Go to Kampilya,’ he told the Kuru princes, ‘and bring Drupad, the Panchala king, to me.’

  So the young princes of Hastinapura went to fight Drupad.

  Drupad, like Drona, had learnt warfare from the sage Bharadwaja and was a brave and brilliant soldier. Duryodhana and the Kauravas, and the four Pandavas, retreated hastily from his onslaught. Drupad turned back laughing, until suddenly Arjuna stood between him and his city, blocking his retreat.

  Raining a relentless volley of arrows upon the astonished king, Arjuna took him captive in his chariot. ‘Yield to me and do not fear for your life, honoured Drupad,’ Arjuna said politely. ‘I must take you to Hastinapura, to my teacher Drona.’

  So the humbled Drupad stood before his childhood friend Drona. ‘Dear Drupad,’ Drona said, ‘it is time for you to remember your words, for time leaves nothing true forever. One can only have friends among equals. I must take half your kingdom, so that we may be equals, and you may recognize your childhood friend with love, or hatred, as you please.’

  ‘And what of my capital, from where I rule my people?’ Drupad asked.

  ‘It is yours,’ Drona replied. ‘I am a Brahmin, and we Brahmins are not greedy. Our hearts are made of butter, not stone. Let us be friends once again, Drupad.’

  At that moment, Drupad had no choice but to agree, but in his heart he swore undying revenge against the man who had humbled him. ‘I shall have a son who will slay this proud Drona,’ he resolved, ‘and a daughter who shall some day wed the noble Arjuna.’ But that story shall be told only later.

  The Plot to Kill Bhima

  As the Kauravas and the Pandavas grew up, their childish quarrels escalated into a more serious rivalry. Duryodhana worried about sharing the kingdom with Yudhishthira after the death of his father, Dhritarashtra. He was convinced that Bhima, physically the strongest of the Pandavas, was the cause of all the problems. He believed that if Bhima were out of the way, things would run smoother for him and his brothers.

  Duryodhana, along with his ninety-nine brothers, hatched a plot to kill Bhima and throw him into the Ganga. He invited his brothers and the Pandava cousins for a picnic by the banks of the Ganga. They spent the day swimming and holding races against each other. At night, they slept in tents set up beside the river. Duryodhana had secretly ensured that Bhima’s food was poisoned. As he lost consciousness, the Kauravas tied him up with wild creepers and threw him into the river. To ensure that his plan was foolproof, Duryodhana had sharp iron spikes planted into the riverbed at the spot where they had decided to throw in Bhima. If Bhima survived the poison, the spikes would hold him down and ensure that he drowned instead.

  However, plans, and especially evil ones, have a way of going wrong at the last minute. The sharp iron spikes that Duryodhana had planted on the riverbed were dislodged by the swift current. A poisonous water snake bit Bhima. Its venom counteracted the poison in the food that the Kauravas had fed him. The river Ganga, taking pity on him, washed him safely to a river bank, where he awoke hale and hearty the next morning.

  Duryodhana returned to Hastinapura, quite certain that his plan to murder Bhima had succeeded. The following morning, when Yudhishthira worried aloud about his brother’s whereabouts, Duryodhana reassured him that Bhima had left for home early in the morning. Yudhishthira had no reason to disbelieve his cousin, but when he returned to Hastinapura, Bhima had not yet come back. His suspicions aroused, Yudhishthira searched the forests and river bank for his brother, but in vain.

  In some time, Bhima trudged back to Hastinapura, weary after his adventure at the bottom of the river. He told Kunti and Yudhishthira of the failed plot to murder him. They consulted their uncle Vidura.

  Vidura was a wise and cautious man, and he counselled them to keep what had happened a secret. ‘If Duryodhana is accused of attempting to kill you, his anger and hatred will increase a hundredfold. It is best to keep your knowledge of the Kauravas’ evil plans to yourself for the time being. Your stars, your fate and the gods above will protect you.’

  Duryodhana was angry and surprised to see Bhima alive, but there was very little he could do. The venom from the water snake had only increased Bhima’s strength further. Duryodhana burnt with jealousy as he watched his cousin grow stronger with every passing day.

  The Test of Strength

  Dronacharya and Kripacharya chose an auspicious time to hold a public exhibition of their students’ skills. The sightless Dhritarashtra and the blindfolded Gandhari were there, as were Vidura, Bhishma and Kunti. Pavilions had been set up around an open ground and there was rejoicing everywhere. An enthusiastic crowd had gathered to cheer their beloved princes. With such young and valiant rulers to defend them, the people of Hastinapura felt safe and protected from their enemies.

  Pipes and bugles announced the entry of the Kauravas and the Pandavas into the arena of the games. ‘I am a fortunate man, to have such brave sons and nephews,’ Dhritarashtra said contentedly, for he felt as great a kinship with Pandu’s sons as he did with his own.

  The competitions began. Yudhishthira was adjudged the best charioteer. Nakula and Sahadeva matched each other equally in whatever contest they undertook, which would end inevitably in a draw. Duryodhana’s face hardened as he watched Bhima manoeuvre his heavy mace with exceptional but careless skill. Arjuna was the darling of the crowds. His dazzling display at archery won the loudest applause. It was almost as though he were talking to his arrow, which would do whatever he commanded, flying like a bird through the air, to the astonishment of the audience.

  Arjuna was about to be declared the winner of the games, when a sound like thunder rent the cloudless sky. A magnificent young man stood at the gate, clapping both his hands in challenge. Karna, Kunti’s abandoned child born of the sun god Surya entered the arena. His golden earrings gleamed and glittered, and his shining armour had the emblem of the sun upon the breastplate. Bowing low before Dronacharya, Karna asked for permission to compete with Arjuna, the winner of the games. Of course, nobody realized that the handsome young man with the proud demeanour was actually Arjuna’s half-brother!

  Karna began a display of his talents. He tossed a heavy mace with natural ease and it became clear to all who saw him that he was stronger than Bhima, the champion of the mace. His skills with the chariot far surpassed those of Yudhishthira. His arrows too sped through the air at the speed of light, establishing clearly to the amazed audience that he was superior even to Arjuna, the master archer.

  Duryodhana watched joyfully as Karna defeated the Pandavas in all that he attempted. He was grateful to the stranger in the golden armour for humbling his proud cousins. He saluted Karna and then embraced him.

  ‘I am Duryodhana, prince of the Kurus,’ he said. ‘I am your friend for life. Ask me for what you wish and I shall grant it to you.’

  ‘I am Karna,’ the
young man replied. ‘I seek only one boon: that I may engage in single combat with Arjuna, the prince of the Pandavas, and defeat him.’

  Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas, had recognized her firstborn child from the moment he appeared. Her heart swelled with love and pride, for she was after all his mother. But now, when she saw her two sons about to engage in mortal combat, she was overcome with fear and horror, and fell into a dead faint.

  Vidura, who was wise beyond belief and knew all that was to be known, sensed the full gravity of the situation. He sent Kunti’s maids to revive her and consulted Kripacharya about what to do next.

  Kripacharya addressed the restless Karna, who was still waiting for an answer to his request. ‘Before you combat Arjuna, you must reveal your lineage,’ Kripa said firmly. ‘Only those born of kings, with royal blood coursing through their veins, may challenge the noble Arjuna.’

  Karna went pale, for he had no fitting reply for Kripa’s words. His adopted father, Adiratha, shuffled uncomfortably in the audience, not knowing what to do. His birthmother, the royal Kunti, prayed secretly to his father, the sun god Surya, most royal of the royal, to save their son from this humiliation, even as she longed for the victory of her favourite child, Arjuna.

  Duryodhana entered the fray. ‘Where do you come from?’ he asked Karna. ‘Which is your hometown?’