THIRTY-FOUR
The Pandavas moved back to Dwaitavana and the asrama beside the lake. The twelfth year of exile seemed as long as the other eleven together; especially to Yudhishtira, who each day cursed his folly, which made his brothers and his wife suffer as they did. He would lie awake at night haunted by guilt. Often he would walk out into the mooned nights and sit on the steps of the asrama, staring across the bright lake, crying.
Though he never showed the others how badly he felt, he, more than any of them, recalled every cruel word said in Hastinapura on the day of the gambling. Repeatedly, he saw the obscene Dusasana trying to strip Draupadi in the Kuru sabha. He saw Duryodhana grin and bare his thigh. He heard his cousin calling Panchali to sit in his lap. Every night those images, those echoes tormented poor Yudhishtira. And being the eldest, he had no one he could turn to for solace, particularly since that would weaken his obstinate position that they must serve out their exile. But when the others saw his drawn face in the mornings, they knew that he suffered. Out of respect, they said nothing, though it saddened them to see him like that.
In Hastinapura, there were still those loyal to Yudhishtira and his brothers. They brought word of Karna's oath: that he would neither eat meat nor drink wine, until he had killed Arjuna. Indeed, since the unforgettable day when Karna had appeared like a dark sun at the princes' tournament in Hastina and Duryodhana befriended him, Yudhishtira had been anxious. Since that day, the Pandava had known there was another archer in the world who was not merely Arjuna's equal, but better than him. Karna disquieted Yudhishtira; there was something uncannily familiar about the golden warrior, as if he knew him from another life.
When Yudhishtira heard about Karna's oath to kill Arjuna, he insisted they move again to the Kamyaka from Dwaitavana, where they had been hardly a month. Scarcely two weeks after this move, one day, persuaded by the restless Bheema, all the Pandavas went hunting together into the deeper forest. That day, Jayadratha, the king of Sindhu, happened to pass through the Kamyaka on his way from his capital to the kingdom of a friend. From his chariot, Jayadratha saw the Pandavas' asrama and he did not know whose hermitage it was. Then he saw Draupadi standing at the door of her hut. Jayadratha did not know who she was, either, but her beauty struck him like an astra. He wanted that dark woman more than he had ever wanted anything.
He sent one of his companions to find out who she was. The man came back and said, "It is the Pandavas' wife Draupadi, she is more dangerous than a cobra. Let us not stop here, my lord; turn your heart away from peril."
Jayadratha gazed raptly at Draupadi. As if he did not hear what his man had said, he climbed down from his chariot and walked toward her.
The lord of Sindhu said, "Do you know me? I am Jayadratha."
"Oh!" she cried happily. "Little Dussala's husband. I am so glad you came. You must wait for my kshatriyas. They have gone hunting and they will be back soon."
Dussala was Duryodhana's sister and Draupadi fetched a pitcher of water for Jayadratha to wash his hands and feet. He washed clumsily, since he did not take his eyes off her. He set the pitcher down and said, "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Come with me, Panchali and be my queen!"
She gasped, but he went on, "This forest is no place for you. Is this the life your husbands should give a woman like you? I will keep you as you should be kept, as a queen."
Her eyes flashed at him. She cried like fire, "Aren't you ashamed? You should be like a brother to me. You come from a noble house, but there is no dharma in you. Don't you fear for your life when the Pandavas hear about this? They will not spare you, Jayadratha."
He grinned like a beast in rut. "Your husbands don't scare me, woman. I want you and I intend to have you."
He seized her, flung her easily across his shoulder and strode back to his chariot. Draupadi's cries rang through the silent forest. "Wretch! Dare you defile me? Let me down! Let me go!"
Dhaumya came running to hear her. He cried in horror at Jayadratha, "What are you doing, O king?"
"Out of my way, priest! This is the kshatriya way, honored through the ages."
"By kshatriya dharma you may not carry her away without facing her husbands in battle! This is a sin and you will taste the fruit of your madness. Let her go, Jayadratha, there is still time to save yourself."
Jayadratha pushed Dhaumya out of his way and climbed into his chariot. "Ride!" he cried. "Today, I have the finest prize in the world."
They rode away through the forest, Draupadi screaming and Jayadratha deaf to her cries. Dhaumya picked himself up and ran along beside the footsoldiers of that force, who laughed at him, but did not turn him away.
Meanwhile, on the hunt, Yudhishtira suddenly said, "Look how the animals wheel to the left. Look at the flights of the birds."
Arjuna breathed, "There is some danger in the asrama."
They came running back, to find Draupadi's sakhi, Dhatreyika, in tears and Dhaumya's brahmanas panicstricken.
"What happened?" cried Yudhishtira.
The woman only sobbed hysterically, pointing where Jayadratha had gone.
"Where is Panchali?" Bheema roared and the forest trembled.
The terrified sakhi cried, "Jayadratha carried her off and Dhaumya followed them. That way!" and she fainted.
All five Pandavas went after Jayadratha. Running through the forest they knew well by now, flying along secret trails, they quickly caught up with the Sindhu king, who went along rather nonchalantly with his soldiers. All at once, a rage of arrows flared out from the trees, from the sky, from everywhere. In moments, Jayadratha's legion lay dead around him. Leaving Draupadi, he leapt out of his chariot and fled.
Dhaumya roared like any kshatriya and ran forward to embrace the Pandavas.
Sahadeva cut away the ropes with which Jayadratha had bound Draupadi. She clung to him fervently, then came to her other husbands, sobbing in relief.
Yudhishtira said, "We were fortunate. Our boyhood lessons in reading omens were not wasted, after all."
Arjuna murmured, "More than a hundred men dead."
Bheema's eyes blazed. "I will go after that wretch. He won't live after what he did!"
Yudhishtira said, "I will not allow you to kill him. He is Dussala's husband and mother Gandhari will be heartbroken if you make a widow of her only daughter."
But Draupadi cried, "If you love me at all, you will kill the beast!"
That was enough for Bheema. He said, "Yudhishtira, go back to the asrama with Draupadi. Sahadeva, Nakula, go with him. Arjuna, come with me!"
He plunged into the forest after Jayadratha. The jungle held no mystery for Bheema and Arjuna, while Jayadratha kept slipping on soft earth, or tripping over roots sprung from nowhere in his path. He fell so often the two Pandavas soon caught up with him. Jayadratha ran for his very life, but Arjuna and Bheema taunted him, crying, "Is this the valor of the Sindhus?"
"What kshatriya are you, that you run so swiftly from a fight?"
"Or do you only fight women, coward?"
Jayadratha had to turn and face them. In a blur, Arjuna shot his bow out of his hands and then, with a chilling roar, Bheema was on him. Bheema caught Jayadratha by his hair and flung him down to the ground. He stamped on that king's face and head until Jayadratha fainted. Still, Bheema kicked him. Arjuna pulled him away, crying, "You will kill him!"
But Bheema was beside himself. He pulled a crescent-headed arrow from Arjuna's quiver and began to shave the Sindhu king's head. Half his hair and moustaches Bheema shaved and left half of them—in fact, five tufts—so his victim could not have looked more ludicrous. Jayadratha awoke, whimpering.
Bheema said, "So you are still alive, wretch. But not for long, unless you cry out that you are the Pandavas' slave. Go on, shout it for the world to hear!"
Without hesitating, Jayadratha yelled, "I am the Pandavas' slave! I am the Pandavas' slave!" so the forest rang with his cry.
Bheema growled, "Who is to hear you in this jungle? I would kill you anyway, except that Arjuna never kills a beaten enemy. I have no such compunction, but my brother Yudhishtira says it will break little Dussala's heart and mother Gandhari's heart, if we kill you. But, oh, how my hands itch to wring your neck!"
Jayadratha whimpered louder, when he saw the look in Bheema's eyes. Arjuna said, "You have punished him enough. Let us take him back to the asrama before you change your mind."
They bound Jayadratha's hands, tied a rope round his neck and led him back to the asrama like a dog. Flinging him down at Yudhishtira's feet, Bheema cried, "Tell Panchali that this cur has declared himself our slave!"
Bheema kicked the kneeling Jayadratha down flat on his face at Draupadi's feet. She said, "That will do, Bheema; you have humiliated him and I am satisfied. Spare his life."
Yudhishtira pulled Jayadratha up and said, "I set you free. Go now, but never repeat what you did today."
Reluctantly, Bheema cut Jayadratha's bonds. That king prostrated himself at Yudhishtira's feet and then, getting up, ran into the jungle without a word. The Pandavas went back to their daily chores, the routine of the asrama, but Jayadratha ran blindly through the trees, his eyes streaming. He could not return to his kingdom, for the world would soon know of his shame. He flew through the jungle as if trying to escape from himself; until, exhausted, he came to the banks of the Ganga and flung himself down on the moss beside the river.
In that place, he sat in tapasya. For a year he sat, his heart on fire, worshipping Siva. At last, Siva appeared before him in a mass of light. The Lord said, "What boon do you want, that you worship me like this?"
Jayadratha prostrated himself at the feet of the vision. He said, "Lord, grant me that I defeat all the Pandavas in battle one day."
Siva said, "Not a lifetime's tapasya would be enough for you to have that boon from me. The Pandavas' dharma is great; their valor is greater. They are invincible and dark Krishna protects Arjuna. But this much I will grant you: if you meet the other four Pandavas in battle, you shall hold them up by yourself. More than that, I cannot do."
Somewhat mollified that, at least, he would have his moment of triumph, Jayadratha returned to his kingdom.
A few days after Jayadratha tried to kidnap Draupadi, Markandeya returned to the Pandavas' asrama. It was a time when they were all disturbed by what had happened and the rishi's coming was like balm to them. As always, he was full of lustrous stories; the brothers forgot their troubles, as they sat late into the nights listening to him.
Yudhishtira was deeply shaken by the incident with Jayadratha; it hurt him most because Jayadratha was Dussala's husband. On his last visit, Markandeya had told Yudhishtira about Nala, the king of Nishada, whose exile had not been unlike Yudhishtira's own. Now, the muni told them about Rama of Ayodhya, whose trials were harder than his. He told the story of Savitri, who turned Yama, Death himself, away with her wisdom and devotion.
Indeed, Markandeya came to the sons of Pandu as if the Gods sent him, at a time when Yudhishtira, particularly, was so full of guilt: a time when there was no telling what the eldest Pandava might have done, because his will was almost broken. More than anyone, in those trying days, the rishi Markandeya gave Yudhishtira the strength to carry on along the narrow path of dharma.
But the Pandava suffered torments of self-reproach in that twelfth year. He blamed himself endlessly for what had happened to his family, his conscience gave him no peace. Long after the night's stories were told, long after the moon had set, Yudhishtira would lie awake or sit out under the tree in the clearing by himself under a sky full of stars, ravaged by the enormity of all that happened to them because of his weakness. In those days, another face haunted him with terror: the strong, rebellious face of the enemy whom Yudhishtira was obsessed with, for no reason he could name, the man he feared most. The remarkable face of Karna haunted Yudhishtira relentlessly.
Over and over, he saw Karna urging Duryodhana to strip Draupadi in the Kuru sabha on the day of the gambling. Again and again, he heard Karna's arrogant voice, 'She is a slut shared by five men and now she will have more than five!'
In that twelfth year of their exile, Yudhishtira, who had been the most restrained of his brothers, who had always advocated dharma and restraint, found that, when he was awake at nights and the others all slept, bloody visions of revenge possessed him. Every cell in his body felt as if it were on fire. All these years, he had been accused of being too patient and forgiving, of not being a true kshatriya. His brother Bheema, who had most accused Yudhishtira of all this, would have been shocked if he had seen into his older brother's heart, during their last year in the jungle.
But Yudhishtira was different from Bheema. He was a master of his emotions—perhaps, even because they were so strong—while Bheema followed his like a child. Pandu's eldest son could hardly resist the anxiety and impatience that raged in him during that twelfth year. There were nights when he was tempted to awaken Bheema and give the order to march on Hastinapura in the morning: because he could no longer contain the fury he felt. But somehow, Yudhishtira proved equal to the trial of those days and nights. All he did was to move, again, from the Kamyaka back to Dwaitavana.
His brothers saw how drawn and uneasy he was. They saw the dark rings around his eyes, his distracted manner and, knowing he was tried by fire, they grieved for him. But there was little else they could do.