THREE
The next morning, with the sun, Yudhishtira comes to Krishna’s apartment. He finds his cousin pensive. The Pandava says, “Did you have a restful night, my Lord? But you seem disturbed, Krishna, are you unwell?”
Krishna smiles at him and shakes his head. He makes no reply immediately. Then, slowly, he says, “I was thinking of your Pitama Bheeshma. He will not live much longer, Yudhishtira and I hear him calling me. When Bheeshma dies, all his wisdom will vanish with him. We must go to him before that happens. You must learn whatever he has to teach you about your dharma as a king. Bheeshma’s wisdom is a priceless treasure. He must share it with you before he leaves us.”
Yudhishtira says, “Let us go at once, Krishna, together.”
Satyaki comes in just then. Krishna says to him, “Tell Daruka to prepare my chariot and you prepare to ride with us. We are going to Kurukshetra to see Bheeshma.”
They set out, Yudhishtira and his brothers, Satyaki and Krishna. Kurukshetra lies bare before them, now that its corpses have been removed and burned. It is difficult to believe, just days ago, the greatest of all wars was fought here. At the edge of the fateful field, like another sun setting over the earth, Bheeshma lies dying.
Krishna and the Pandavas alight from their chariots and make their way to the patriarch on his bed of arrows. Many mysterious munis, whom none of them has ever seen before, sit around Bheeshma, some silently in dhyana, others softly chanting arcane mantras that have all but passed out of the world. Krishna approaches the Kuru grandsire first and kneeling beside him, takes his hand. Bheeshma’s eyes flicker open; they are sea-like and full of pain. He sees Krishna at his side and Bheeshma’s eyes flare with light, his face is lit by a smile.
Krishna says, also smiling, “Oh, my lord, how do you bear such pain? Why, if a needle pricks me, I cannot stand it! Here you are with a hundred arrows lodged in your body and you have been lying on them for so long. There is no one like you in all the world, no one with such a mighty will, Devavrata. Not just a will, Bheeshma, but wisdom also. Brihaspati, Sukra, Vasishta and Markandeya were your gurus and you have always walked the way of dharma. Never in time has a greater man lived on this earth and none ever shall.
Your grandson Yudhishtira has been crowned king in Hastinapura; he has come to see you with his brothers. Now, more than ever, Yudhishtira has need of your wisdom. He is shaken by all the killing and dying he saw on Kurukshetra. He is full of sorrow and needs you to comfort him. It is just fifty-six days until uttarayana. When you die, all your wisdom will disappear from the world forever, unless you leave something of what you know with Yudhishtira. Your grandsons have come to you: tell them what you know about dharma, artha and yoga.”
Again, the smile touches Bheeshma’s face. With an effort, he begins to speak, “You are the Para-matman who pervades this universe: you tell me what I should do. I do not know how much longer I will live. This pain has robbed me of the count of time. I have discharged my debt to Satyavati. I can die in peace now. I am only waiting for Surya’s chariot to change its course in the sky.”
He pauses; then, another light is in his eyes. He takes Krishna’s hand and says, “My Lord, I want to see your Viswarupa before I die. Won’t you show yourself to me?”
“At the end of fifty-six days, when you leave your body, I will be at your side. But first, you have one final task left: you must pass your wisdom on to Yudhishtira.”
Bheeshma laughs. “Krishna, you mock me! How can I speak of dharma, artha or yoga when you are here with us: you who are the beginning and the end of all knowledge? Dare a sishya hold forth in his guru’s presence? And then, these arrows fill me with agony. I can hardly speak.”
“You are too modest, Bheeshma,” says Krishna. “You must teach Yudhishtira everything you know.”
“But I am so weak. I can hardly bear the pain I am in; to speak at any length would be impossible. Besides, my memory has faded and you want me to remember what I learnt when I was a boy. Forgive me, Krishna, but I don’t have the strength for this final task.”
The Avatara’s body shines. He speaks as softly as before, but there is unearthly authority in his voice. Krishna says, “I grant you a boon: from this moment, until you die, you will feel no pain. Your memory will be as clear as the heart of a rishi. Your mind will be sharp as a sword, Bheeshma, to sever any knot that binds Yudhishtira’s heart.”
It is told the sky showered down a petal-rain on Krishna and Bheeshma. A wave of relief floods Bheeshma, as all his pain vanishes. Krishna squeezes the Kuru ancient’s hand and then he rises, saying, “We will leave you to collect your thoughts. But we will return early tomorrow to hear your wisdom.”
That night is the first restful one Krishna has spent in a long time. He sleeps deeply, a dreamless slumber. Early next morning, he sends Satyaki to Yudhishtira. Soon, they are ready to set out again for Kurukshetra. An hour after dawn, the Pandavas and Krishna arrive on the field. Bheeshma lies on it like the rising sun. He has not felt a twinge of pain since Krishna blessed him and he too has spent a restful night.
Bheeshma feels detached from his body, free to range through the labyrinths of his days. The past is clear before him in all its fabulous richness; the book of his life is his to read from at will. Indeed, most of the night Bheeshma has leafed through that marvelous tome as he pleased. There is so much he sees plainly now, which was obscured before. Devavrata sees his life for the miracle it has been, every symphonious moment.
Bheeshma welcomes Krishna in a stronger voice. Yudhishtira and his brothers still linger in the background. Narada, who is at Bheeshma’s side, says, “Let Yudhishtira ask whatever he has to quickly. Time flits by and Bheeshma will not live long.”
Before Krishna can call Yudhishtira closer, Bheeshma says, “Krishna, I am free of pain and my mind is keen and clear. I think I can answer any questions Yudhishtira has for me. But there is something I want to know. You can teach the dharma better than I can. Why have you chosen to entrust this task to me?”
Gently Krishna says, “Perhaps you are right, Bheeshma and I can tell Yudhishtira what he needs to know. But I thought, let Bheeshma’s name be a legend forever in the world. Let men hear his wisdom and count it as being equal to the Vedas. What you say to your grandson shall be immortal and men will live their lives by it. A man is said to live in the world for as long as his fame does. You are the greatest man ever to grace the earth and I want your spirit to be with humankind forever. So, I ask you to teach the dharma to Yudhishtira and his brothers.”
Tears start down Bheeshma’s face, as he listens to the Avatara and feels his love upon him. Bheeshma is speechless for that stupendous love. At last, slowly, the Kuru patriarch says, “Let Yudhishtira ask me whatever he wants. I will be happy to tell him anything I know.”
“Yudhishtira is afraid to approach you. He thinks you might blame him for what happened during the war.”
Bheeshma raises his voice and calls Yudhishtira. When the Pandava comes hesitantly and kneels at his side, Bheeshma lays both his hands on his head, blessing him. Laughing, the patriarch says, “Why should you be afraid to come to your Pitama? I know your noble heart; I blame you for nothing. My child, every kshatriya’s dharma is to fight and kill his enemies, whoever they may be. You have only followed your dharma; why should you feel guilty? Call your brothers also and ask me whatever you want. I learnt what I know from unworldly masters, long ago. And I will tell you everything I learnt: by the grace of this immortal one who has come among us and is pleased to call himself Krishna.”