SIX
The days pass and the sun turns north. That morning of the solstice, Yudhishtira and his brothers return to Kurukshetra, where Bheeshma still lies. With them come Dhritarashtra and Krishna, Gandhari, Kunti, Draupadi, Satyaki, Vidura and Yuyutsu. They bring flowers, incense, silks, sandal-wood, jewels, rice grains and fruit. Bheeshma knows his time has finally arrived; he lies waiting. All Hastinapura follows its king to the field of fate.
Bheeshma lies with his eyes shut; Vyasa, Parasara, Narada and the munis from Devaloka surround him. Yudhishtira approaches the patriarch, takes his hand and says, “Pitama, it is I, Pandu’s son Yudhishtira. All of us have come, as you wanted. Dhritarasthra is here, my lord. Krishna is here; the people have come to pay homage to you. I beg you, open your eyes and look at them.”
For a moment, Bheeshma does not respond. Then slowly his eyes flutter open and they are far away, as if they already saw other worlds. Bheeshma sees a sea of people around him; a faint smile touches his lips. He says softly, but very clearly, “Yudhishtira, my son, I am happy to see you with our people. At last, Surya Deva has turned his chariot north again. I have lain here for some sixty days, more. I feel a hundred years have passed. Now, finally, it is time for me to leave this earth.”
Bheeshma turns his gaze to Dhritarashtra, “My son, you know the dharma of a king. Yes, you are wise, there is nothing you do not know. All that happened was by fate, none of it could be helped.
Don’t grieve over your sons who died. Pandu’s sons are with you, treat them as your own. Be fulfilled in them, be joyful with them.”
Bheeshma pauses, then, says to Yudhishtira, “Fetch me some flowers, child. I want to worship Krishna.”
The flowers come; Bheeshma worships Krishna, ritually and his eyes are so very bright. The Kuru ancient says fervently, “You are the Lord of the universe, you are the Creator of this earth. I beg you, Krishna, show me your Viswarupa and let me leave this world forever. Bless me that I find the highest sanctuary.
Though all the others see no change in Krishna, Bheeshma’s eyes see his Cosmic Form, infinite, ineffable. Krishna takes Bheeshma’s hand, he says, “Devavrata, return to your home on high. Go back to the Vasus and never again shall you be born into this world of men. As for your death, why, you are like Markandeya: death waits for you, you can summon him when you want.”
Bheeshma’s face is lit by a brilliant smile and the people see a miracle before their eyes. Devavrata shuts his eyes and calls his death to him. The people of Hastinapura see Bheeshma’s body blaze with light and, limb by limb, from his feet up, the arrows that pierced him fall out and his wounds vanish. Then, the uncanny luster rises and leaves his body through the subtle opening on his skull. Scintillating, Bheeshma’s soul ascends into heaven.
The sky is full of music; a fine breeze blows, laden with the scents of a thousand flowers of Devaloka. The earth is cool and mild and the heart of every man and woman is full of the peace beyond understanding.
They make a pyre of sandalwood on Kurukshetra. Yudhishtira and Vidura wrap Bheeshma’s body in cerements of silk, they cover him with flowers. In a solemn procession, the Pandavas bring their Pitama on his final journey, while Yuyutsu holds the sovereign white parasol over him. They lift the Kuru patriarch on to the fragrant pyre, around him they lay the hundred arrows that brought him down. The brahmanas and munis all chant the Sama hymns and Dhritarashtra touches Devavrata’s pyre alight with a burning branch. Yudhishtira, his brothers, Vidura and Dhritarashtra stand to the right of the blazing sandalwood. All of them cry, as flames clasp the greatest man who ever lived, make ashes of his body.
Early the next morning, they collect Bheeshma’s remains, bones the fire spared and ashes and come to the Ganga. As they offer tarpana to the departed one, suddenly the river stops flowing! Ganga rises from her waters, lamenting.
She says to the other mourners, “My child is dead and there was no one like him in all the world. He was a devoted son. He was invincible; even Bhargava could not vanquish him. Today, you have come to float his ashes down my currents, for Shikhandi, who was not even a man, killed my child. Oh Devavrata, all my hopes for you have been proved vain. I thought you would be king of the earth and now look what is left to me.”
She sobs inconsolably, as the others watch in some awe. Then Krishna goes to her and says, “Don’t cry for your son, mother of the world. You know he was your child only briefly. You know who Bheeshma was before he was cursed to a mortal life. He was not merely a man and he could not be merely a king like one. He was not just a kshatriya; he could not be killed like one. The time of Bheeshma’s curse has ended and he has returned to his kingdom in Devaloka, where he sits on a loftier throne than any of this earth. Your son is a Deva and he is with the Devas again. Rejoice, Mother Ganga, that at last your Devavrata is free.”
Shimmering Ganga bows gravely to Krishna. Her eyes still tear-laden, she vanishes. When they look at the golden river, they see that she flows again, as she has since the world began. Now, standing in the water after offering tarpana to his dead Pitama, Yudhishtira breaks down. Sobs shake him and he staggers out from the river with Bheema helping him.
Yudhishtira sits on the riverbank, covers his face in his hands and grief convulses him. His mood passes to his brothers and all of them sob like children, as wild remorse grips their hearts. Before the war began, Dhritarashtra had sent a message to Yudhishtira through Sanjaya. He had said Yudhishtira should abandon all thoughts of war, because, with his gentle nature, even if he won he would regret it ever after. The blind king had not been wrong.
As Yudhishtira sits crying like an orphan, Dhritarashtra comes to comfort him. The uncle raises his nephew up compassionately and enfolds him in an embrace.
Dhritarashtra says, “Come, my son, you cannot lose control of yourself. You are a king now; you have a kingdom to care for. Look at Gandhari and me, Yudhishtira. What is your loss compared to ours, what is your remorse compared to ours? All you did was dharma and you have not sinned. That is not true of us and we have lost a hundred sons. Come, my son, this is no time for tears, but for courage and fortitude.”
Krishna, also, comes and takes Yudhishtira’s hand. The Dark One says, “Yudhishtira, your Pitama taught you everything he knew before he left us. You are setting all that at nothing. What will your people do, if you give in to yourself like this?”
Yudhishtira controls himself and they return to Hastinapura.