FIFTY-SIX
Some days after Krishna left, the Pandavas sat together in an airy room full of the orient sun and bird-song from the trees in the palace garden, when they heard the plucking of a vina in the passage outside. The timbre of that lute was so exquisite and the playing so effortless, so inspired, that Yudhishtira said, "It is Narada muni."
The name was hardly out of his mouth when the rishi himself stood at the door: slender, bright and quite ageless. Narada was as old as the world. He was Brahma's son, born at the beginning of the kalpa from the Creator's pristine thought. From an ancient curse he was a wanderer always, who appeared in the unlikeliest places to perform, in his inimitable way, the Lord's more difficult tasks; tasks that only an expert in human nature could accomplish. Because of his subtle, gossipy methods, Narada was known as a troublemaker. However, the truth was that he was a canny sage and perhaps the greatest bhakta of the Lord Narayana, whose ways are always inscrutable.
Yudhishtira washed the holy one's feet and made him sit in a place of honor. Narada's voice was youthful and his face a young man's; but he was older than they could imagine and they could tell as much from his astonishing conversation. For example, he would speak of Siva's wedding to Parvati as if it had happened yesterday; and, of course, he had been there. So also, primeval legends those princes had heard from their gurus: Narada spoke of them with easy familiarity; he had seen it all happen.
He chatted with the Pandavas like an old friend, but the princes knew their brilliant guest was bound neither by time nor place and traveled freely through both, as he liked. He spoke about kingship and war, love and children, about his meetings with Vishnu, his conversations with his father Brahma and even of fathomless Siva. All his observations were embellished with vivid anecdotes and the princes were entranced.
For the first time after Krishna left, Yudhishtira was in a fine mood. He called for Draupadi, so she could have Narada's blessing. When she came, Narada cried, "How beautiful she is, my princes! How perfect."
Draupadi knelt before him and he blessed her affectionately. When she had gone, Narada knit his brow and grew thoughtful. Yudhishtira asked, "Has something disturbed you, my lord?"
"I was reminded for a moment of Sunda and Upasunda."
"Who are they?"
"Not are. Were. They are, alas, dead." He fell silent again, knowing someone would press him to tell them more.
Sahadeva obliged. "Why were you reminded of them seeing Draupadi?"
Narada sighed. There was work to be done here and the Lord's work was always so delicate. He must tread carefully. They must never know that he had met Krishna yesterday and the Dark One had sent him to Indraprastha.
"Indraprastha is such an excellent city. Go and see my cousins there, O Muni."
And only as he left,—he had travelled by rishi patha, magical skyway, as all great sages did—was he told what Krishna wanted him to do in Indraprastha. The Lord never sent you anywhere just to admire the scenery, however wondrous a city and its environs may be. After all, Narada had some experience of the Lord's ways, for longer than anyone else did. He was his shrewd and far-seeing messenger.
So here he was in Indraprastha, sighing. He shook his slim head and said, "They were brothers just like you and they loved each other quite as much as I see you five do. But they both fell in love with the same woman. She was beautiful and dark-skinned, like your Panchali. She was a gandharvi called Tilottama." He lowered his voice, "And they killed each other because of her, though they had agreed to share her love."
The Pandavas shivered. Narada went on, insouciantly, "The trouble began when one day Upasunda, the younger brother, walked into Sunda's bedchamber and saw his brother and Tilottama making love. He could not bear it and, later that same night, challenged Sunda to a duel. After a bloody fight, Sunda killed Upasunda. But then, he was horrified by what he had done and ran his sword through his own heart."
The Pandavas sat as if they were made of stone. Knowing he had their attention, Narada said, "You five brothers also share one woman and such a beautiful woman. You must be careful she does not become the unwitting cause of your falling out among yourselves. For, my precious princes, you are the agents of a great destiny. And it would not do if you were to fight one another, instead of the evil ones who are your enemies."
Suddenly, his eyes were old as stars. "Just think how pleased Duryodhana and Shakuni would be, if you five were to fall out over Draupadi. You would do their work for them and they could rule a world with no-one in it to oppose them." He lowered his voice still further, "Remember, as long as you stand together you are invincible. If you are divided, your enemies will cut you down very quickly.
I am not saying there is jealousy in your hearts, or that you compare yourselves to one another. What I do say is that you are not ordinary men, by a long way. The future of the world depends on you five and you must guard yourselves against the most unlikely contingencies."
Arjuna asked, "Tell us how, Muni."
"I have a way. But you must all approve of it, because it is a hard way."
Bheema said, "Tell us what it is, Narada."
"I suggest that each of you, beginning with Yudhishtira, keeps your dark queen for a year. During that year, she shall be exclusively the wife of one brother. If anyone intrudes on their privacy during that year, the intruder must go on a tirtha-yatra for twelve years and not see Panchali for that time."
The Pandavas glanced at one another. Yudhishtira said, "We will do as you say, Muni. Bless us so we may be strong."
Narada did so and, having accomplished what he came for, the itinerant was on his way once more, blithe as ever. News of her husbands' resolve came to Draupadi, who went into the prayer room to ask for the Gods' blessing for them all. Then she moved into Yudhishtira's wing of the palace for the first year.
The new arrangement appeared to be working well, until, one day fate took a hand in Arjuna's life. Fate arrived as an irate brahmana, whose cows had been stolen. Arjuna was sitting on his balcony that balmy morning, basking in the sun, when he heard the brahmana's voice below him.
"Pandavas, all the world has contempt for a king who levies a sixth of his kingdom's yield as tithe and does nothing to protect his subjects!"
Arjuna leaned over his terrace. "What is the matter, Brahmana?"
"My cows have been stolen in broad daylight. Help me, Arjuna!"
"Thieves in Indraprastha? I am coming."
Then Arjuna remembered his weapons were in Yudhishtira's apartment, where the king was with Draupadi. Coming out into the courtyard between his wing of the palace and his brother's, Arjuna hesitated. How would he enter Yudhishtira's apartment when his brother was alone with the queen?
The brahmana cried. "The thieves will reach their homes with my cows!"
Arjuna stood in a quandary. The brahmana said in disgust, "As his brothers, so too the king! Like all kshatriyas you live off the fat of the land and neglect your dharma to protect those that depend on you. When I came to Indraprastha, I thought Pandu's sons were different from Dhritarashtra's; but I see all you kshatriyas are the same."
The man began to walk away, when Arjuna seized his arm and cried, "One moment, Brahmana! Let me fetch my bow."
Deciding it was his dharma to help the brahmana, to his own cost if need be, Arjuna ran to his brother's apartment. The front door was not locked and he walked in. There was no guard posted, there was no need for one. Beyond the door, lay a small waiting room and beyond that was another room where the weapons were. Arjuna paused, with his hand on the second door.
He knew Yudhishtira's bedchamber lay beyond the private armory. He hesitated, knowing if he passed the second door, he must go into exile as well. He heard the frantic brahmana cry, "Arjuna has vanished into the palace, leaving me standing here like a fool! He is afraid of the thieves. Ah, what the world has come to these days. And they say Yudhishtira is a great king."
Arjuna pushed open the inner door. He heard Draupadi and Yudhishtira together; he heard her moan. Mustering his courage, Arjuna mumbled, "There is a brahmana in trouble outside. I came for my bow and arrows; forgive me."
He seized his bow and quiver and ran out. There had been no answer from the next room; but he heard Draupadi draw her breath sharply. Shaking, Arjuna came out into the sun, where the brahmana was about to walk away again.
Knowing he had just sentenced himself to twelve years of exile, Arjuna said, "Come, show me where the thieves took your cows."
In a lather to retrieve his herd, the brahmana ran ahead already. Smiling at the man's alacrity and his belly that flapped ahead of him, Arjuna followed at a lope. They came to the city gates, where the cows had been lifted. The herd's tracks were still fresh on the soft ground and, telling the brahmana to wait for him, Arjuna followed them into the jungle.
As he sped through the trees, tears stung his eyes. It was all he could do to keep his mind on his task. With the herd, the cattle-thieves couldn't go as quickly as he did and it did not take him long to catch up with them. Soon, he saw the rumps of fine white cows through the trees and driving them on were three forest bandits, hurrying through the jungle's twisting avenues.
The bandits saw nothing of Arjuna. As they plunged along, suddenly a hundred arrows whistled around them. Some missed their heads so narrowly the thieves could feel their breath; others flashed down at their feet so they jumped into the air. They ran faster than ever. Stranger missiles flew after them, arrows that howled like bhutas and burned like fire-serpents.
The bandits left the cows and fled through the jungle. Arjuna sent a few more blistering shafts after them, crying, "I will kill you if you ever come back!"
He rounded up the cows and took them back to the brahmana. It had been so easy, too easy almost. Arjuna knew fate had tricked him: the stolen cows had been a pretext, he was meant to leave the comfort of Indraprastha.
He came shyly to his brother and stood with his head bent. Yudhishtira hugged him. "I hear you recovered the brahmana's cows. He is telling all the city what a kshatriya you are."
Arjuna stood downcast. At last, he said, "I came into your apartment when you were alone with Panchali. I must go on a pilgrimage for twelve years."
"No! You came only because you had to fetch your bow and quiver. I did not mind. Besides, it is never a crime for the younger brother to come into his older brother's chamber. If I had come into yours, that would be different. You must not leave Indraprastha, not for a day."
Arjuna was unmoved. "You are letting your love for me sway your judgement. I have often heard you say there is no room for compromise in dharma. Don't make me waver from the truth, I must go."
Yudhishtira sighed and said quietly, "Go with my blessing, then, if you must. Take some of our brahmanas and sutas with you. They will make the tirthas come alive with their legends. Meet mother, our brothers and Panchali before you go."
Arjuna bowed to his king, clasped him once more and went to meet the others. Kunti and Draupadi wept and begged him to reconsider; his brothers said that, because of the circumstances, he could not be held to the oath. Arjuna was adamant and early next morning he set out with a group of brahmanas and pauranikas.
The sun was mellow in a clear sky as the pilgrims headed toward the Ganga. They meant to track the river back into the Himalayas, to her source.