THIRTY-ONE
In a daze, Duryodhana stumbled out of the Pandavas' asrama. He didn't say a word to his brothers or his wives. His retinue followed him in silence, fearing his wrath if they dared speak. Night had fallen and a burnished moon rose above the Kaurava party. They came to a small river that flowed beside the path on which they walked. Duryodhana stopped and signaled that they should make camp for the night.
Tents were pitched, fires lit and food cooked. But Duryodhana sat apart from the others, staring across the river. Dusasana came to call him to eat, but his brother waved him away. The night wore on and, exhausted by the day's adventure, the other Kuru princes fell asleep. Their women slept, as well and the soldiers. Only Duryodhana sat on the riverbank, gazing dully at the moon riding on the water, his eyes seeing nothing.
Early the next morning, they heard horses' hooves and shouts approaching the camp. It was Karna. He rode up like a storm, leapt down from his chariot and embraced Duryodhana.
"O Kshatriya!" cried Karna. "You vanquished the gandharva. I did my best, but he was invincible: an archer from Devaloka, his weapons unearthly. How did you beat him, Duryodhana? I am amazed."
Duryodhana had not uttered a word. Now he turned his face up to Karna and tears flowed down his cheeks.
Karna was taken aback. "What is this? Why are you crying?"
With a sob, Duryodhana confessed, "It was not I, but Arjuna who beat the gandharva."
"Arjuna?"
"We were routed by the Elves. They took us all. Then, Bheema, Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva arrived and gave them battle. Arjuna filled the sky with fire, so the gandharva king Chitrasena had to fly down to the ground. When he got out of his vimana Arjuna ran to embrace him, because they are friends. Chitrasena knew why we came to the forest and he told the Pandavas everything. Arjuna asked him to free us. The gandharva said he would not, unless Yudhishtira wanted it.
So we went to the asrama in the Kamyaka, after all; ah, Karna, not as we intended, but in shame! Bound hand and foot like some thief, I stood before my cousin, praying the earth would open and swallow me. The gandharva said to Yudhishtira, 'You decide their fate. They came to gloat over your privation.' Of course, the noble Yudhishtira told Chitrasena to set us free. Can you imagine what I felt then, Karna? Death could not be so terrible.
When we were free and Chitrasena had flown off in his vimana, Yudhishtira turns to me in his gentle, maddening way and says, 'Being spiteful never brought anyone joy. Go back to Hastinapura and don't be so rash again. Go in peace, I wish you well.'
He wished me well! I stood there, wishing I was dead. How much better it would have been for me to have died fighting the gandharvas than have the Pandavas save my wretched life. Karna, what is my life worth now, that I owe it to my cousins? I do not want to live any more. As I left their asrama, I heard Bheema laughing and that slut as well. I can't bear to go back to Hastinapura. I have decided to stay here and not eat or drink until my miserable spirit has left my body. And then, perhaps, some honor will be Salvaged from this shame."
Duryodhana turned emotionally to Dusasana, "My brother, go back to Hastinapura and become king in my place. Rule wisely, with Karna and Shakuni beside you. Always be a sanctuary to your friends and generous to your brahmanas. Mix justice with mercy when you judge a crime. There is no one better to teach you discernment than our uncle Vidura."
Dusasana began to cry. Duryodhana turned back to Karna, "My friend, I thought you and I would rule the world together. All that is just a dream now; this is the end for me. But you must always be at Dusasana's side and make him a better king than I was."
With a wail, Dusasana fell at his feet, "What are you saying? How can you even think of dying, when we all depend on you? And you are asking me to be king in your place, while you die? The earth will split in two before that happens. The sky will fall into the sea and the sun spin loose from his orbit, before I rule in my brother's place!
How dare you say this to me? Is this how much you love me? Do you wish all our brothers dead, that you speak of killing yourself? Don't ever say such things, you are my very life!"
Duryodhana raised him up and they both sobbed like boys. Karna said, "What is this crying and moaning over nothing, Kuru princes? It was just a childish prank we came on and we were caught out. Let me tell you, the Pandavas did not help you out of any love, only for their precious dharma. They would have done the same for anyone.
Besides, do you think they did not realize what a humiliation it would be for you, that it was they who saved you lives? And you talk of killing yourself. You are doing exactly what they want. Who will be happier than Pandu's sons if Duryodhana kills himself? Think with your head, my friend and not your grief. Come back to Hastinapura. If you kill yourself, you will be the laughing-stock of the kshatriyas of the earth."
"I agree with Karna!" cried another voice. Shakuni had arrived, unnoticed. "You talk of killing yourself over such a petty thing? I am amazed at you, Duryodhana. This is unmanly. It shows an immature nature: too used to comfort, unfamiliar with pain.
If you are so concerned that you have wronged your cousins, why not go and make up with them, since they saved your life? If you think your reputation is ruined, restore it by returning their kingdom to Pandu's sons. Repay their noble gesture by being even nobler. Yudhishtira did certainly treat you like his brother. You do the same: return Indraprastha to them, if you dare, instead of killing yourself like a coward."
Then, Shakuni's voice was a familiar hiss again. "Remember, you can only kill your enemies if you are alive yourself!"
But for once, Duryodhana was unmoved by even his suave uncle. That prince said sadly, "Shakuni, I have nothing more to do with any of that. I care nothing for wealth, kingdom, honor, friendship or pleasure. I beg you, leave me alone! I have decided to die and no power on earth will stop me. All of you go back to Hastinapura and let me die in peace."
He rose and walked away from the others, down the riverbank by himself. When he found a secluded spot, hidden by a screen of thorn-bushes, Duryodhana cast off his royal robes. He put on a simple cloth he had brought with him, a rag he had taken from a common soldier. He gathered an armful of kusa grass, spread it on the ground and sat on it facing west in the posture of the lotus. He began to pray, fully intending to die.
The day wore on and Duryodhana sat with his breath controlled and his eyes shut. Twilight came and then night fell. There was no semblance of peace in the Kuru prince's heart. Turbulent thoughts, frenzied anxieties, hunted one another through his mind. He heard Bheema's scornful laughter. He heard Yudhishtira's gentle voice, 'Go in peace, I wish you well.' He saw the handsome face of Chitrasena, his eyes bright and mocking.
And soon, his life began to play itself out in chaotic pictures in Duryodhana's mind: his childhood, his adolescent cruelties and the day the Pandavas first came to Hastinapura. His loves flashed before his eyes; then, the day of the gambling, when he had his cousins banished. Ah, that was such a sweet day. He sighed to think of that day's triumph, when he won a kingdom at a game of dice!
Then he thought of death and he shivered. He knew his time to die had not come. There was so much he still wanted to achieve, most of all…yes, he wanted to see Yudhishtira and his brothers dead. Only that would put out the fire in his soul.
The night wore on. The Kaurava did not stir, though pangs of hunger began to roil him.