TWO
Day by day, Mayaa's sabha took shape in Indraprastha. He had brought expert craftsmen from distant parts to work on the edifice. They were silent men and mysterious, who preferred to keep to themselves. They built a colony of hutments around the sprawling site and ventured into the marketplace only to buy themselves food. They did not mingle with the people of the city and Mayaa was pleased that this was so. He felt it kept their minds on their task, which was an undertaking of inspiration.
First, Mayaa erected a huge, skeletal wooden dome. He shrouded it with rough canvas to keep the sun, the wind and the rain out. Below this dome his men labored, by day and often by night. Mayaa himself was one possessed, as he plunged himself into the enterprise, body and soul. He ate little and slept less. Often, in the nights' last yaama, just before dawn, he could be seen stalking the streets of Indraprastha, alone, talking to himself, talking bare some nuance of design.
Rumor had it that, at times, Viswakarman, who eagerly watched the progress of the sabha, joined Mayaa during these nocturnal strolls, to analyze some delicate problem of structure or aesthetics, for hours. One day, Mayaa came to Arjuna, who was the only outsider he allowed under the covering dome. He said, "When the Tripura burnt I Salvaged some precious things from the inferno and buried them under the Bindusaras, near Kailasa and Mainaka. I want to use those treasures to embellish your sabha."
Arjuna thought how much more contented the Asura was, since he had begun working. He was absorbed, as if nothing existed any more except his sabha. Arjuna said, "What can I do to help you?"
"Give me some men to go with me, to carry back what I need."
Arjuna agreed readily and Mayaa set out for the Bindusaras, lake of water-drops. Once when, at Bhagiratha's long prayatna, the Ganga fell in a starry torrent on to the earth, no one could bear her awesome fall. She was arrogant that it would be the end of the world. Then Siva stood up from the Himalaya, tall as the sky and he caught the falling river in his jata and contained her at the root of a single strand of his hair. Ganga's pride was broken: struggle as she would, she could not escape from Siva's head. Bhagiratha begged Siva to let the river flow in the world, for his ancestors' sake. The Lord released her, drop by painful drop, to flow as a blessing upon the earth and absolve men who bathed in her of their sins.
Where Siva released the river of the sky from his head, a lake formed, which belonged as much to heaven as the earth. It was on the shores of the Bindusaras that the rishis Nara and Narayana once sat in tapasya. It was beside the same lake that Arjuna had sat in dhyana, beneath it that Ulupi had seduced him.
One night of a full moon that illumined the Himalayan landscape like a mystic's vision, the Asura Mayaa arrived at the Bindusaras with the men Arjuna had given him. The lake lay like a sea before them. It was a still winter's night, a silvery day and snow lay all around like white fire. Here and there, a thin film of ice covered the water.
What is night for men is day for the Asuras. As soon as he arrived at the Bindusaras, though it was midnight and they had come a long way, Mayaa waded into the icy water. It was thousands of years since he was last here, but he swam unhesitatingly to the middle of the lake. His men sat watching, awed by the beauty of this luminous place poised between swarga and bhumi. Mayaa paused a moment, quite near where Arjuna had plucked the scarlet lotuses. He swam on with powerful strokes.
The Asura seemed like some aquatic creature from another world. He was a strange one, all right; he had hardly said a word to any of the fifty men that had come with him. He seemed wrapped up in thoughts too deep to share, of times so different his companions could not have imagined them. They thought he was the loneliest being in the entire world: a derelict from another age condemned to live in a diminished time.
Yet, now, in the midnight waters of the Bindusaras, the Asura seemed to come alive. He dived under the surface of the lake and was gone interminably. Then he broke water with a shout that shattered the primeval silence of the white valley.
"They're here!" cried Mayaa. "My treasures are still here."
He held his hand up above his head. Something crimson and renitent shone in it like a piece of the rising sun. Mayaa swam fluently back to the shore. He showed them the object in his palm: it was a giant phallic ruby, a reverberant Sivalinga. Those men had never heard that, among all Sivabhaktas, Mayaa was among the very greatest.
Briefly the Asura shut his eyes in prayer, then said, "My Lord Siva has kept my treasures safe. Come, we must build a raft in which you can bring ashore what I dive for."
With fifty skilled men this was quickly accomplished in the morning. Soon, so many parcels— carefully wrapped in oilskin—lay in a pile beside the lake. Mayaa would not allow anyone to undo these and look inside. Most of them shone even by the light of day, as if there were cold fires burning within. Some of the parcels were so heavy, though small enough, that it took three men to carry a single one.
When Mayaa had retrieved the last of the parcels, they set off down the mountain. Not far from the lake, along the loftiest section of a mountain-trail, the chariots from Indraprastha waited. Lading these with the treasures of Tripura, Mayaa and his party rode home. The Asura's eyes shone with memories of the days when he had been a king of his people.
Back in Indraprastha, Mayaa had his treasures carried safely to the dome of secrecy that covered his growing sabha. To no one did he yet show what was in those parcels, which had lain for an age in a jade cavern under the Bindusaras. Just one of them he brought into Yudhishtira's palace, to Arjuna's chambers. Mayaa called Bheema and Arjuna there.
As he untied that large parcel, the Asura was smiling, as he so seldom did. When he had peeled away the rough oilskin, the Pandavas saw an emerald-and-saffron silken layer inside; the cloth was so rich, they had never seen its like. When Mayaa undid the silk as well and laid the package bare, Bheema and Arjuna rose in awe to stare at what lay within.
Delighted that the princes were enchanted, Mayaa picked up the shining mace he had uncovered. Its knobs were golden, its haft jeweled and, when the Asura hefted it, it rumbled like a thundercloud. This was no common gada, but a weapon as old and powerful as the Gandiva. Giving that mace gravely to Bheema, Mayaa said, "May you be invincible in every battle you fight. May you kill your greatest enemy with this gada one day."
When Bheema received the weapon, it was alive in his hands; he felt its implacable spirit touch him. Mayaa turned to the battle-conch, the sankha that lay on the silk cloth, its presence filling the room. The Asura held the whorled shell out to Arjuna and said, as if it were an old and valued friend, "This is the Devadatta. When you sound him, not just your enemies but the earth will tremble; for he is a great spirit of the ocean."
Arjuna embraced Mayaa emotionally. "I was the lucky one on the day we met!"
Now Mayaa began to give his sabha its final touches. Night and day he toiled, obsessed that his creation should be perfect. In a tide of visions, intricate plans came to him under the lofty dome that still shrouded the great court. At last, after fourteen months of ceaseless labor, one night Mayaa came to Yudhishtira and said, "Your sabha is ready. I will dismantle the covering dome tonight and you may see it in the morning. I have consulted Dhaumya, tomorrow is an auspicious day."
When the sun rose the next morning, a gleaming miracle stood revealed before the palace of Indraprastha. Guarded by eight thousand stone kinkaras, Mayaa's edifice had columns of gold and silver, terraces of crystal and the Pandavas saw it was by far the most magnificent sabha in the world. It made every other royal court on earth seem like stalls beside a great temple. Why, Mayaa's sabha made even the rest of fabulous Indraprastha seem ordinary.
It was ensconced in sprawling gardens, in which flowers of every kind—kalhara, madhavi, mallika, kuravaka and kadamba, among others—bloomed all together, many unseasonally: as if the sabha was part of a transcendent realm. Enchantment lay upon every part of it.
Pools full of ethereally clear water dotted the gardens. As Mayaa led Yudhishtira and his brothers around1, they saw these pools had floors and banks of blemishlessly white marble. The marble banks were set with clusters of pearl and flights of crystal steps led down to the water. In the water were lotuses made of jewels, some of them solitaires as big as a dove's eggs. Among these, were real lotuses, fish, tortoises and water birds.
At the lofty doors to the sabha itself, as Mayaa led them in, after the chanting of sacred mantras, was another pool. This was inlaid with precious stones, exactly like the rest of the floor. By a trick of the light that fell on it, the water in the pool reflected the marble of the ceiling so perfectly, that at first the Pandavas mistook it for solid floor. Yudhishtira nearly stepped into it and Mayaa drew him back.
The spectacular central hall of the sabha was elegant as a work of nature, surrounded by countless little terraces. It was lambent with jewel-light: deep emerald and ruby, scintillating sapphire and diamond, dusky coral, mystic amethyst, chrysoberyl and moonstone and other gems no longer found in the world, secret stones set in the walls, ceiling and floor. All you saw was their light, never the stones themselves, unless you inspected the crevices in which they were craftily embedded.
At the head of the sabha, which was six thousand cubits square, was a raised marble platform. On this dais were five crystal-and-golden thrones, encrusted with the most exceptional and auspicious gemstones. These thrones were perhaps the finest reflections of Mayaa's imagination. Each one was different from the others and each created for a particular Pandava prince.
Mayaa said, "Do you know which throne is for each of you?"
Yudhishtira's throne was obviously the biggest one, in the center of the platform; but, with no hesitation, the other princes followed Yudhishtira on to the dais and each one sat in his own throne.
Mayaa cried in delight, "So there was no mistake!"
1. Yudhishtira feeds ten thousand brahmanas, come from all over Bharatavarsha, madhurparka, fruit, roots, pork and venision before he enters the sabha. The greatest of them go in and sit with him in that court. Asita, Devala, Satya, Sarpamali, Mahasira, Arvavasu, Sumitra, Maitreya, Sunkaa, Vali, Vaka, Daivya, Sthulasira, Vyasa and his disciples, Suka Sumanta, Jaimini, Paila, Parvata,
Markandeya, Savarna, Bhaluki, Galava, Janghabandhu, Raibhya, Kopavega, Bhrigu, Harivabhru, Kaundinya, Babhrumali, Sanatana, Kakshivat, Ashija, Nachiketa, Gautama, Painga, Varaha,
Sunaka, Shandilya, Kukkura, Venujangha, Kalapa and Katha are some of the names mentioned.
There were a thousand other marvels in that sabha; and even the Pandavas, who had lived in the grandeur of Hastinapura and the splendor of Indraprastha, were awed by it. Charming little passages led away from the main hall, to numberless smaller halls and atriums. There were other rooms for study and recreation; and up marble-and-wooden flights of stairs were elaborate apartments for each Pandava's relaxation and pleasure. Mayaa's sabha could easily serve as another palace in Indraprastha.
The outer walls were so sensitive to light the sabha seemed like an entirely different edifice, at different times of day. The people would say that in the evening you would not recognize it for being the same court it had been at dawn. And on the night of a full moon, it seemed to float on air and, surely, to belong to another, supernatural world.
Yudhishtira turned to the Asura and, bowing to him, said, "Now we can begin to imagine how glorious the Tripura must have been and why its legend has survived the passage of ages."
Knowing this was the highest praise he could have, Mayaa also bowed. He said, "The Lord of Indraprastha deserves no less. If you are pleased, I am satisfied."
He could see they were more than pleased: they were entranced by his creation. None of them yet realized what envy it would stir in some hearts and that envy would catalyze the greatest war. Yudhishtira and his brothers wandered around the sabha for hours, as if they could never have their fill of it. The next day, there was a feast to celebrate its completion; the poor were fed, gifts and gold given to them.
Mayaa came to Yudhishtira and said, "My work here is complete. I must return to my family."
Yudhishtira took him back to the palace. Knowing the habitually solitary Asura would want to leave Indraprastha as soon as he had finished his task, the Pandava king already had several gifts ready for him. At first, Mayaa was reluctant to accept any of them, saying they owed him nothing; it had been his privilege to build the sabha. However, the Pandavas would not hear of this and finally Mayaa left Indraprastha laden with treasures for himself and his family. Many of these were heirlooms fashioned in Devaloka and handed down the Kuru generations from sires of old.
Each Pandava came and embraced the Asura and they wept when he left Indraprastha. Though Mayaa was a taciturn and essentially lone being, he had won their hearts with his generosity and his genius. Engraved on a fine silver sword Yudhishtira gave him, were the words: To the greatest builder of all.
Arjuna went beyond the gates of Indraprastha to see Mayaa on his way. Suddenly, the Asura had tears in his eyes as he grasped Arjuna's hands. "May your life always be filled with sweetness. I will never forget you, noble prince, or that you saved my life."
Arjuna's eyes were full. "I will think of you whenever I see your sabha. And when I ride into battle, taking my life in my hands, I will think of you: when I blow on the Devadatta to strike fear in my enemies."
They embraced and the quiet Asura turned and walked out of Arjuna's life. The Pandava never asked where he was going: if Mayaa had wanted Arjuna to know, he would have told him. A few weeks after Mayaa left Indraprastha, Yudhishtira and his brothers held a banquet in the new sabha, to which kshatriyas from other kingdoms were invited. Those who came said that truly Indraprastha, with the jewel at its heart, the Mayaa sabha, was no less than Indra's Amravati in Devaloka. The fame of the city in the wilderness spread throughout Aryavarta and especially of the court Mayaa had built.
All the kings of the earth came to see the wonderful sabha, except Dhritarashtra and his sons. It was like a slap in the blind king's face. He had sent his nephews into a desert, thinking he would consign them to oblivion. Now, the renown of Indraprastha was greater than that of Hastinapura. The desert had bloomed; and the Mayaa sabha was the crowning humiliation for the Kauravas. Dhritarashtra and his sons could hardly bear the envy that burned them.
Not only kings, but holy seers from the tallest mountains and the deepest jungles came to see Mayaa's sabha. Many young kshatriyas, who came with their fathers, remained behind in Indraprastha to study archery with Arjuna. One of the finest of these was Satyaki, Krishna's cousin from Dwaraka. Chitrasena and Chitrangadaa came to Indraprastha with Arjuna's son Babhruvahana. They were welcomed and stayed for some months.
It was a time of plenty, a time of fortune, a time when Indraprastha was a vibrant center of activity and learning. The Pandavas' cup of joy brimmed over. Subhadra gave birth to a splendid son, whose arms were long, his chest broad and his eyes as large as a bull's. They named him Abhimanyu. He was a brilliant child and quickly became his uncles' favorite. In course of time, Draupadi, too, had five sons: one from each of her husbands. Yudhishtira's boy was Prativindhya, Bheema's was Sutasoma, Arjuna's Srutakarman, Nakula's son was Satanika and Sahadeva's prince Srutasena.2
Those were halcyon years. The dark and anxious days of the lacquer palace were forgotten, the furtive months in the jungle and Ekachakra where they ate by begging alms. It seemed destiny smiled on the sons of Pandu and their worst days were behind them.
But darkness and misfortune, the soul-makers of this world, were gathering themselves once more below time's apparently secure horizon. Surrounded by every luxury and protected by the most powerful army and allies on earth, the Pandavas would not have dreamt they would soon be homeless wanderers in the wide world again, exiles from their wonderful city.
Meanwhile, the wheel of fortune turned toward its very zenith. The advent, once more, of Narada muni in Indraprastha was to begin this final ascendancy.
2. See Appendix for a description of Abhimanyu and Draupadi's sons.