TWO
The days pass and his kingdom prospers like the earth blooming in a sacred spring; but Yudhishtira still grieves. One day, Vyasa returns to Hastinapura. He finds the Pandava king dejected, wasting. Bheema and Arjuna tell the muni that remorse still torments their brother.
Vyasa says to Yudhishtira, “It seems all our advice has been in vain. You still mourn for what is past, which cannot be recalled or mended. Your brothers are distraught to see you like this, your mother is anxious for your health.”
Sadly, Yudhishtira says, “My lord, I cannot help myself, though I try.”
Before he came, Vyasa has already thought of a remedy for Yudhishtira. “There is a remedy prescribed of old that will help you subdue your sorrow. Undertake an Aswamedha yagna.”
Hope flickers in the Pandava’s eyes. He says, “The Aswamedha will purify the earth of the sins of war, but a king must have vast resources before he can even think of the yagna. The war has emptied our coffers. I cannot dream of performing an Aswamedha. Why, the commonest sacrifice would tax me sorely.”
“The Ikshvaku king of old, Marutta’s, treasure lies buried under the Himalaya. I know where the stone vault is and the trove is waiting to be unearthed by a needy king of the earth.”
“How was such a treasure hidden on the mountain?”
“Once, Marutta wanted to perform a profound yagna and approached Guru Brihaspati to be his priest. Brihaspati said, ‘I am the guru of the Devas of light, of Indra himself. How can I be the priest of a mere mortal king? Find someone else to be your ritvik.’
Marutta sought the counsel of some munis. No ordinary priest would suffice for the yagna he planned, he had need of a great brahmana. He was advised to seek the services of Brihaspati’s brother, Samvarta, who now lived in a forest on earth. Samvarta had left Devaloka because he could not bear his brother’s envy any more and Indra always took Brihaspati’s part against him. Marutta found Samvarta and begged him to be his priest. Samvarta said, ‘I will be your ritvik, Kshtariya. You must first worship Lord Siva. Only he can give you the wealth you will need for the yagna of yagnas that you plan.’
Marutta of the House of the Sun was a rajarishi. He sat in tapasya and Siva blessed him with a treasure like the world had never seen. Marutta and Samvarta decided to perform the yagna upon the Himalaya. A thousand craftsmen were commissioned to create the golden urns for the sacrifice and build a wonderful yagnashala on the mountain. When Brihaspati heard who Marutta’s priest was to be, when he heard about the wealth with which Siva had blessed that king, he was livid with envy. He grew pale, thin and wasted day by day.
Indra asked him, ‘My lord, what ails you? Don’t your servants care for you well?’
Brihaspati said in a low voice, ‘Marutta has begun his yagna with wealth won from Siva. Samvarta is his priest.’
‘But you are my own priest, the Devaguru. How can Samvarta harm you?’
Grimly, his master replied, ‘Who can bear to see an enemy prosper? Indra, you must do something to put out the fire in my heart!’
Indra sent messengers to Marutta’s court, offering him Brihaspati’s services as priest for his yagna. Marutta sent his reply to the Deva king, ‘Samvarta shall be my ritvik.’
Furious Indra wanted to cast his Vajra at Marutta, but Samvarta prevented him with his tapasya shakti. Finally, Indra and the other Devas attended Marutta’s yagna and, pacified by that king, gave him their blessing. When the sacrifice on the Himalaya was complete, Marutta gave away gold by the sack to the brahmanas who had come to chant the Vedas. Siva had been so generous that, even after this, a huge treasure was left over, gold and jewels to fill a storehouse. Marutta had this wealth sealed in a rock chamber on the mountain, in a secret place and he returned to his capital, Ayodhya.”
As Vyasa speaks, Yudhishtira looks around at his brothers and sees how eager they are. Bheema will do anything to see his brother get over his sorrow and be enthused by something again. Arjuna, essential kshatriya, is always delighted at the prospect of a campaign. For, of course, Yudhishtira will send him to ride with the sacrificial horse of the Aswamedha, daring any king to arrest its careen.
At last, a smile dawns on Yudhishtira’s face. It is perhaps the first time he has smiled since the war ended. He says to Vyasa, “My lord, let us go to the Himalaya and uncover Marutta’s treasure. We will perform an Aswamedha yagna.”
Before anything else, Yudhishtira sends word to Krishna in Dwaraka, informing him of their plans. He asks his cousin to come to Hastinapura with his Yadavas for the sacrifice. Suddenly, the eldest Pandava’s disposition is transformed. Once more, he seems to look forward to something; there is a light in his eyes again. Vyasa smiles to himself, he knows the immediate reason for Yudhishtira’s change of heart. The Kuru king loves no place on earth as he does the Himalayas, where he was born. There is no other place, which can comfort him and return peace to his troubled spirit like those holy mountains.
The Pandavas leave Yuyutsu to care for Dhritarashtra, Gandhari and Kunti and, on an auspicious morning, they set out for the Himalaya with a force of chariots and men.
Word of the Aswamedha reaches Krishna and he and his Vrishnis set out from Dwaraka. They arrive in Hastinapura a month before the Pandavas return. Having quite forgotten the rage that seized him when he saw Duryodhana felled, Balarama also rides with Krishna. There is another reason why Krishna arrives early; there is another task for him in the city of the Kurus. Abhimanyu’s wife Uttaraa is in mourning. She cannot forget her dead husband, that the time they spent together was so short. Uttaraa carries Abhimanyu’s child in her womb and her confinement is near.
Krishna arrives early in Hastinapura because, after Aswatthama’s curse that the brahmasirsa would destroy every unborn Pandava, the Dark One swore he would restore life to Uttaraa’s child. Great anticipation is alive in the city as the day draws near. At last, on a bright still morning, the princess delivers a fine son. But their cries of celebration die on the midwives’ lips and shrill wailing breaks out. With Satyaki at his side, Krishna rushes to the chamber of birth.
They meet Kunti stumbling out from Uttaraa’s room, her face covered, sobbing. Kunti sees Krishna and cries, “Only you can save us now! Abhimanyu’s son is stillborn. Oh, he looks almost alive and he is so handsome. But no breath stirs in him and his heart doesn’t beat in his chest. It will be the end of the Kuru line if he does not live. You must give life to Uttaraa’s son, Krishna, you must!”
She falls on the floor and clasps her nephew’s feet. Gently, Krishna raises her up. He says, “I have sworn Uttaraa’s son will live, even if I have to use up all my punya to give him life.”
Krishna enters Uttaraa’s chamber, where Draupadi is in tears and Subhadra is inconsolable. When Uttaraa sees Krishna, she jumps up, naked, from her bed and runs dementedly to him. She also kneels at his feet, “Lord, save my child, or I will take my own life!”
She faints and her women lift her up and set her on her bed again. Krishna approaches that bed and sees the perfect infant lying there, as if he slept. Though his eyes are wide open, they stare glassily and no breath moves his chest. Krishna grows very still. The smile vanishes from his face and his eyes glow uncannily. The women fall hushed, they have never seen him like this before.
Krishna gazes intently at just the lifeless child, as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist. In a whisper, he asks for holy water. Pouring some into his palm, he murmurs quiet words over Uttaraa’s child and sprinkles the water over him. The air in the room is electric, no one stirs; why, they hardly breathe, for the dhyana of the Blue God. In a trance, Krishna takes the baby in his hands. Unearthly light is upon the Avatara. He shines like the night sky when a full moon rises into it.
The child is limp in his hands. Slowly, Krishna passes his hands along the infant’s body, from his feet up over his legs, his belly and chest, to his fine head. The women in that room can almost see the prana passing from Krishna’s fingers into the unbreathing child.
Krishna says, “If I have always served dharma, let this child have life!”
The baby stirs, his limbs twitch. His tiny mouth puckers up, a spark of life ignites in his eyes. Next moment, he kicks his legs and begins to cry in a magnificent little voice!1
In a dream, Uttaraa’s eyes fly open. In a dream, she hears her son crying. In an incredulous dream, she sees a radiant Krishna bring her baby to her: a living child that wails for her breast. In an ecstasy, Uttara takes her son in her arms. Around them, the other women stand frozen, like women in a painting. Krishna turns and, smiling, walks out of the room. A tumult of joy breaks out behind him.
Krishna comes out of Uttaraa’s door. Now sweat streams down his ashen face, his body is drenched in it. Trembling, he staggers down the passage to a dark corner. He looks as if he has aged a hundred years, since he went into Uttaraa’s room of labor. Krishna thinks he is alone. Satyaki stands at the far end of the passage and seeing his cousin, comes forward quietly. Krishna crosses unsteadily to a stone seat in an alcove and sits on it, his chest heaving. Sas aki stops himself, when he sees the state in which Krishna is.
He stands in the shadows, watching, as the Avatara shuts his eyes and yokes himself in dhyana. Krishna slips into samadhi; Satyaki stands watching him. Gradually, the Dark One stops shaking. Satyaki sees the unearthly light that enfolds him, pulsing. Krishna sits for some moments, wrapped in the light. When his breathing is even again and the color flushes back into his face, the mystic light begins to fade, until it vanishes.
As long as he lives, Satyaki will never forget those moments. Krishna was so far away then; he could have been on another world, or in another kalpa. Satyaki stands transfixed by what he has seen and then Krishna opens his eyes. The familiar, slightly mocking smile is back on his lips. He is quite himself again, as if nothing exceptional had occurred.
Satyaki approaches him with folded hands and says, “Abhimanyu lives in Uttaraa’s child. This is a greater victory for you than the war!”
Krishna takes his hand and says quietly, “Yes, Satyaki, this was harder than winning the war. But come now, surely it is time to celebrate.”
Arms linked, they walk back to the main palace.
A month passes; then, word comes to Hastinapura that the Pandavas are on their way home. Following Vyasa’s directions, they have discovered king Marutta’s treasure-trove. With Dhaumya their priest, Yudhishtira and his brothers worshipped Lord Siva on the Himalaya. Then they excavated the mountain and when they dug fifty hands, they found a buried rock chamber. In it lay an unimaginable hoard, wealth like the Pandavas had not owned even during the days of the Rajasuya yagna in Indraprastha. They found gold and golden vessels, chests and caskets full of incredible jewels.
It took them ten days to bring up that treasure. It was loaded onto elephants’, horses’, mules’ and camels’ backs and in chariots2 and countless men helped carry it all back to Hastinapura. Miraculously, the Kurus were masters of untold wealth once more.
The entire city has turned out to welcome them home. Indeed, on the very day they discovered the treasure on the Himalaya, Abhimanyu’s son was born in Hastinapura and Krishna restored him to life. The palace in Hastina is a temple of hope, surging again through the kingdom. Even the forlorn Subhadra hardly cries any more but grows engrossed in the little one, her grandson.
Krishna gives the heir to the Kuru throne the name Vyasa muni wanted. “He is born after the war and he has already known death. He is a tested one, let him be called Parikshita.”
Word arrives that Yudhishtira and his brothers have returned. Krishna rides out of the city to receive his cousins. Yudhishtira jumps down from his chariot and runs to the Dark One and they embrace. A sea change has come over the Kuru king. His dejection has vanished; instead, he glows with new contentment. They are a wealthy kingdom again and Yudhishtira is not past rejoicing at this for his people’s sake. Besides, the Himalaya has healed a favored son. One by one, the other Pan-davas come to embrace Krishna and they tell him about their quest for the treasure.
As they enter the city-gates, Krishna says to them, “Uttaraa is a mother now. Your grandson is called Parikshita.”
Such joy breaks out on the Pandavas’ faces. Bheema gives a roar of delight. Yudhishtira cries, “And he lives, Krishna?”
“I swore he would, didn’t I?”
They cannot wait to see Parikshita and they ride quickly to the palace. The people crowd the streets to welcome their king home. When they see the wealth the Pandavas have brought, singing and dancing break out and the celebrations last through the night.
Back in the palace, Abhimanyu’s father and his uncles can hardly put the little prince down. Any straggle of gloom in Yudhishtira’s heart vanishes, when he sees Parikshita and takes him in his arms. They pass the handsome child from hand to hand and the quaintest sight is Bheema holding him in his arms. There is no doubt left in anyone’s mind that a bright new time has dawned over the destiny of the Kurus; and the time of darkness that Duryodhana brought has ended. Once more, there is a future to look forward to, a future that Abhimanyu’s son will rule one day.
More enthusiastically than anyone else, Yudhishtira throws himself into planning for that future. Vyasa returns, timely as ever, to Hastinapura. Yudhishtira says to his grandfather, the muni, “We have treasure now, my lord. If you bless me, I will perform the Aswamedha yagna.”
Vyasa says, “The yagna will purify the earth and all of you of the sin of the killing you saw and did. You must not waste any more time.”
Yudhishtira has another thought. He goes to Krishna and says, “My Lord, if it hadn’t been for you, we would never have won the war. You must perform the Aswamedha yagna, to exorcise us of the sins of Kurukshetra. I beg you, do this for my sake.”
Krishna laughs, “Now I know beyond any doubt that you must perform the Aswamedha. My noble cousin, no other king has the relinquishment you do. You are lord of the earth, king of the Kurus and I am happy to serve you. The performance of the Aswamedha yagna is a tradition in your royal House. I am content as I am, but my joy increases, day by day, as I see all my dreams being realized. Perform the yagna, Yudhishtira: to me, it will be just as if I did it myself.”
Plainly, Krishna means what he says. The truth is that he has been deeply concerned about Yudhishtira; he had feared the Pandava might never recover from his remorse. Now he sees him full of hope at the birth of Parikshita and he is relieved. For the Avatara, it is another battle won.
Vyasa finds an auspicious day for the yagna to begin. The finest white horse in the king’s stables is chosen to be the sacrificial animal. Yudhishtira asks, “Everything is ready. But who will ride with the horse through the kingdoms of Bharatavarsha?”
“Arjuna is the archer; let him go with the horse,” says Vyasa. “Let Bheema, Nakula and Sahadeva remain here with you and do whatever needs to be done in Hastinapura for the sacrifice.”
Yudhishtira turns to a beaming Arjuna, “My brother, go with our army and invite all the kings of Bharatavarsha to the Aswamedha. If any of them opposes you, subdue him in battle. But, Arjuna, as much as you can, avoid bloodshed.”
Arjuna takes the initiatory bath. He sets out in his chariot with the white horse going before him and an army and some brahmanas following. The Pandava goes forth in elation. The people mill in the streets and the thunder of the Gandiva’s bowstring resounds through the city.
After Arjuna leaves, preparations begin in earnest in Hastinapura and Bheema and the twins oversee them. A hundred kings will arrive shortly in the Kuru capital and they must be housed and feted royally. Another small city comes up quickly within Hastinapura; at its heart is a wonderful yag-nashala with golden pillars. Meanwhile, Yudhishtira takes his vows as the sacrificer and sits before the yagna fire, his chest covered with the skin of a black buck, his loins with red silk and a staff in his hand. Vyasa and countless other brahmanas gather in the city of elephants to bless the Kuru emperor. They have come to usher in the new age that is upon the world, the kali yuga, as auspiciously as they can. Of course, at the back of their minds, a shadow lingers: of the other bloody yagna on Kurukshetra with which the kali began. But they have seen enough evil for a lifetime; and if anyone thinks of what sort of age this is that began with such a war, no one says anything about it. They are content to mind the day, as best they can.
Meanwhile, Arjuna follows the white horse through Bharatavarsha. They ride north first and hardly a king dares obstruct them. They turn east and a few lords of the earth have to be quelled with battle. After the war at Kurukshetra, there are hardly any kshatriyas left in the world with stomach for a fight against Arjuna. West and south, also, the Pandava conquers and all the kings of the sacred land submit once more to Yudhishtira’s sovereignty, as they did during the Rajasuya yagna3.
A month before Arjuna rides home, these kshatriyas begin to converge on Hastinapura with their legions for Yudhishtira’s horse sacrifice. They bring treasures for the Kuru emperor. The awareness of a new age is upon them all and they come keenly to the Kuru capital, to forge and renew their ties with the most powerful monarch in the world and to establish a new peace on earth.
Bheema and the twins have seen to it that Hastinapura is splendid with its new mansions and sab-has. The guests are wonderstruck by the yagnashala that stands at the heart of the city, reminiscent of another sabha in another city: a sabha that sparked such envy that a war to end all wars was fought in the world.
Bheema, of course, is in charge of the kitchen that serves the visiting kings; and it can be safely said the fare in Hastinapura is even more extraordinary than it was fifteen years ago in Indraprastha. For, in between, Bheema had served a year in Virata’s kitchens and he had learnt a good deal of the culinary art during that year. With typical humility, Yudhishtira receives his guests and shows them to the mansions where they will stay.
All the kings have arrived and at last, one day, the white horse canters into Hastinapura, with Arjuna just behind it. Dhritarashtra and Yudhishtira go out to the gates to welcome home the conquering kshatriya and the city begins its celebrations. The next morning, with Vyasa and his hundred rishis presiding over the ritual, the horse is sacrificed to the Gods. The animal is cut into pieces and then Draupadi, the queen, is made to sit next to these. The brahmanas then cook the marrow of the dead steed and the Pandavas all sniff the fumes from the boiling marrow—which would remove every stain of sin from them. The other portions of the horse are fed to the sacred fire and for the second time, Yudhishtira is crowned emperor of Bharatavarsha.
Those who were there say that the Pandavas, Krishna and all the Yadavas are present at Yudhishtira’s Aswamedha yagna. But the other kings who attend are either sons or nephews of the lords of the earth that came to the Rajasuya in Indraprastha: their sires and elders have all perished in the war.
The yagna is concluded and Yudhishtira the sacrificer turns to his grandfather Vyasa and says, “Take all this earth we have conquered, Muni, as our gift to the brahmanas who came to our sacrifice.”
The performance of the Aswamedha yagna requires the sacrificer to give all his lands as alms. The custom was seldom observed literally, only a token offering was made. Vyasa replies, “I return this gift to you, my child. We brahmanas have no use for lands, but we have use for gold.”
Yudhishtira is insistent. “Not my brothers or I can keep what rightfully belongs to the brahmanas.”
Vyasa says, “We are moved by your generosity. But give the brahmanas gold and keep the lands for yourselves.”
Yudhishtira is about to protest again, when Krishna says, “Do as the muni says, Yudhishtira. He knows best.”
Yudhishtira gives the brahmanas millions of gold coins, as well as the golden vessels from king Marutta’s hoard that was used at the yagna. One by one, the visiting kings depart: dazzled by the sacrifice, overwhelmed by the wealth and the generosity of Yudhishtira Chakravarti.
Just as the Aswamedha yagna is being wound up, the queerest thing happens. In the midst of the brahmanas, the Pandavas and Vrishnis, a blue-eyed mongoose makes his appearance. He is an extraordinary creature, for half his pelt is shimmering gold! The mongoose speaks to the Kuru king and the others in perfect human speech, “Yudhishtira, your yagna isn’t half as great as the sacrifice of the Kurukshetra brahmana.”
The brahmanas and kshatriyas crowd around the exceptional creature. One priest asks, “Everything at this Aswamedha has been conducted according to the Shastras. What fault do you find with it?”
The mongoose laughs. “It isn’t a lie I tell and I don’t speak from vanity. But neither your yagna nor your king’s generosity is equal to those of the poor brahmana of Kurukshetra, whose only offering was four bowls of gruel.”
The munis are incredulous. They say, “We have followed the Shastras in every particular. How can you compare the poor brahmana’s sacrifice with this one?”
The mongoose replies, “I was there at that yagna of yagnas and just seeing it made half my body turn golden. Listen, if you want to hear about that sacrifice.
Long ago, in Kurukshetra, a brahmana lived on the grain that his neighbors, the farmers, threw away. This hardly amounted to anything and he, his wife, his son and daughter-in-law ate but once in three days. Sometimes, they ate only once in five days, barely keeping body and soul together. A terrible drought fell upon that land. It did not rain and the earth grew parched and all the fields dried up and lay desolate. The poor brahmana’s family starved.
One day, they could not bear the pangs of hunger that tore at them and went to forage for some food. After wandering for hours, in blazing heat and blinding dust and they often collapsed from weakness, they managed to collect a few handfuls of coarse barley and came home with it.
They cooked gruel from the arid grains. They divided the gruel in four bowls and sat down to eat, when a guest arrived at the door, a stranger. The brahmana rose and offered him a place at his table. The silent stranger came in and sat down. Shyly, the brahmana set his bowl of gruel before the man. The stranger quickly ate the gruel. He looked up when he had finished and he was not satisfied.
The brahmana was embarrassed, hardly knowing what to do. His wife called from the kitchen. She pressed her bowl into her husband’s hands and said, ‘Give the visitor my gruel as well. If you can go hungry, so can I.’
Almost in tears, he gave her portion to the stranger. In no time, the guest licked the second bowl clean, then looked around, obviously not sated still. The brahmana’s son called his father and pressed his uneaten gruel into his hands. ‘I, too, can starve, father. Let our guest eat.’
The brahmana began to protest, but his son was adamant and the stranger had the third bowl of gruel. He still looked around him hopefully. The daughter-in-law called the old brahmana and handed him her bowl. The brahmana said, ‘No, my child! I cannot take this from you.’
She would not listen and the fourth bowl of gruel was also set before the stranger and he emptied it quickly, as if it was the finest delicacy he had ever tasted. Suddenly, the stranger’s body shone with heaven’s light. He said, ‘Brahmanas, your generosity isn’t of this world.’
A shower of petal-rain fell in that humble home, its fragrance was divine. The poor brahmana and his family stood astonished. Their guest went on, ‘Your generosity has earned you a place in Devaloka.’ He pointed through the door, ‘Look, Lord Indra has sent a vimana for you. Your sacrifice is greater than any Aswamedha or Rajasuya. Come, let us go.’
The poor brahmana family followed the stranger into the marvelous vimana and he took them into heaven. I had been hiding in my corner, watching all this and when the brahmanas flew away with the messenger, I came out. I was also hungry and I saw that a few drops of the barley gruel had fallen onto the floor. Oh, it smelled so wonderful, better than any other food! I crept up and licked up those fallen drops, at once half my pelt turned golden.
Since that day, my friends, I make it a point to visit every yagna in the land of Bharata to see if I can turn the other half of myself golden. So far, though I have been at countless sacrifices, a Rajasuya and an Aswamedha among them, I have not found a yagna to match that of the brahmana of Kuruk-shetra. Look, the proof is upon my pelt: only half of me is gold. Yudhishtira, non-violence, self-restraint, contentment, uprightness and gentleness, sincerity, austerity, truhtfulness and charity are superior to the greatest ritual sacrifices. All the fine offerings of your yagna are not equal to a few drops of the poor brahmana’s gruel!”
With that, the mongoose vanishes4. Krishna stands smiling to himself and all the others have something to ponder. Soon, it is time for their royal guests to depart and last of all, Krishna, Balarama, Satyaki and their Yadavas leave Hastinapura to return to Dwaraka on the ocean. Though the Aswamedha yagna might not have been as great as the poor brahmanas’ sacrifice, it does wash their sins of the war from the Pandavas. Peace returns to Yudhishtira’s spirit. The nightmares that ravaged him since Kurukshetra no longer stalk his sleep. With Parikshita as their hope for the future, the sons of Pandu begin a long and blessed reign from Hastinapura.