FIFTEEN
Duryodhana stormed back to his apartment, where Dusasana, Shakuni and Karna waited for him. He was shaking with anger.
“They will do anything, Dusasana. They brought Gandhari into the sabha to tell me to mend my ways! Can you imagine how I felt? Like a small boy being scolded by his mother in the Kuru court. And Krishna sat there with that maddening smile on his face.”
He swept a priceless crystal decanter of wine off a table. It smashed into shimmering dust on the black marble floor. Now he raged aloud, “Enough sanctimonious counsel! From Pitama, from my father, from Drona, from Vidura, from Krishna and now from my mother. I want to be left alone! Is any man perfect, that he lives his life just by dharma? What about Krishna? Is he so perfect? The world knows how many women he keeps in Dwaraka. He never hesitated to kill anyone who stood in his way, by any means he could, with weapons or guile.
He knows that life is not black or white; and neither are we. Men have never been like that. They have never done what they should, but what they wanted to. That is life! That is destiny. Always, there have been those too afraid to act, who tried to stop those who were bold enough to take what they wanted: to stop them with talk of dharma! You should hear my father now and, of all men, Krishna preaches to me. The hypocrite! I have had enough of the lot of them.”
Dusasana looked anxious. “If they brought our mother to speak to you, they will stop at nothing. Next thing, they will bind the four of us and hand us over to Yudhishtira. And the king will not stop them, any more. It would be the simplest solution; it is only we four who oppose their cowardly peace.”
Duryodhana was startled at the thought. Then, a slow smile spread on his face. “Krishna is as dear to our cousins as their breath; without him, they are nothing. And we, also, have much to learn from this dark lion Krishna.”
“What do you mean?”
“Krishna tells our elders to deliver us to the Pandavas, so there might be peace. What if we follow his advice? Take Krishna captive before anyone moves against us! And keep him here in Hastinapura as our hostage. I know how much the Pandavas love this black cowherd, whom the world calls the Avatara. If we take him hostage, it will break their spirits. If we hold Krishna, they will agree to anything, even to the peace everyone wants. They will agree to peace on my terms.”
Dusasana said, “We must strike first and victory shall be ours!”
But just they four could not hope to hold Krishna. Some others were taken into confidence and a conspiracy hatched. Inevitably, word of the plot leaked out. Satyaki heard of it and stormed into the Kuru sabha where Krishna sat with the elders of Hastinapura.
“Duryodhana plans to take Krishna hostage! Dhritarashtra, your son has lost his mind.”
Vidura jumped up in shock. “Now we are doomed! Krishna, you must leave at once. We don’t know who all are with Duryodhana in this treachery.”
Krishna was not surprised or agitated. Mildly, he said, “It will not be easy to take me.”
Dhritarashtra was panicstricken. “Fetch Duryodhana here at once.”
Duryodhana stalked tensely back into the court. “Father, you sent for me.”
“Sinful child!” wailed Dhritarashtra. “Evil as you are, I didn’t dream you would stoop to this.”
“What do you mean, my lord?”
“You dare even think of taking Krishna a hostage? This greatest of men, the Avatara? Duryodhana, I knew you were vain and foolish, but I never realized you were mad. The Devas and all the rishis in heaven, together, could not do what you are planning to. Idiot child, can you hold the wind in the palm of your hand? Can you take the sun a prisoner, or carry the earth in your arms? Why, these things are easier than making this man your prisoner.”
Duryodhana stood defiantly before his father. Krishna said softly, “Duryodhana, you think I am here by myself. But look, I am not alone.”
As he spoke, the sabha filled with a thousand presences. Krishna said again, “Look, Duryodhana, I am not alone.”
Duryodhana saw the hosts of heaven and earth crowding his father’s court at dark Krishna’s word. He saw the Pandavas in armor, their weapons in their hands. He saw the brilliant Vrishnis of Dwaraka and Mathura. The Andhakas he saw and all the Yadava warriors, while Krishna said, “Yes, they are all here with me.”
They saw the iridescent Adityas in that sabha and the eight Vasus. Then, Krishna began to shine like lightning, so they could not bear the effulgence of him. From his blinding body emerged the Devas, one by one and they were lucific, but pale beside the one they had issued from. They were dull beside the Cosmic Person Krishna had become and as small as his thumb.
The court in Hastinapura, dwindled to nothingness, saw Brahma, four-faced, on Krishna’s brow. On his chest, spanning infinite space, they saw the eleven terrific Rudras, masters of ages and galaxies. On the Avatara’s shoulders, they saw the guardians of the quarters, the Kshetrapalas Indra, Varuna, Kubera and Yama. Agni blazed from his fanged mouth. The Adityas, the Vasus, the Maruts and Devas were all contained in him and his tremendous laughter rang through the sabha of Hastinapura, through heaven and earth and all the yawning kalpas. Duryodhana fell on his knees, his eyes shut and his hands clamped over his ears. Still, he saw and heard everything, helplessly.
Krishna laughed. Now, in the palm of his left hand, bright as the first light from which the universe was made, stood the Yadava army with Balarama at its head. On the Blue One’s right palm stood Arjuna, the Gandiva in his hand, the Pandava legions behind him and Bheema, Yudhishtira, Nakula and Sahadeva at his side.
But these were just two hands of a thousand arms. Others held starry weapons, ayudhas that could extinguish constellations. He wielded the mace Kaumodaki, the sword Nandana, both spewing fires like sun-flares, the legendary bow Saringa; and, above another forefinger, wheeling silent and nitid, a sun compressed: the Sudarshana Chakra!
This was his cosmic form and his tusked mouth spewed tongues of flame as long as nebulae. Flames leapt from his eyes and nostrils. He was too terrible to look at and, like Duryodhana, most of the Kuru sabha shut its eyes; but not Bheeshma, Drona or Vidura, nor the rishis who had come to that court. They did not blink, but gazed raptly, in adoration, at the spectacle of spectacles. And he, the Lord, gave them the power to gaze on him, impervious; otherwise, a moment of this vision would have destroyed them. Those wise ones drank him into their very souls through staring eyes.
Then, a miracle: Krishna gave blind Dhritarashtra, who had never seen the world, sight and this vision of God to behold. Tears coursing down his face, speechless, the king gazed at immortal Krishna, so dreadful and so ineffably sweet. Even those whose eyes were shut tight in fear heard celestial music in that sabha; even they felt the barely material flowers that rained on them out of heaven and smelt their unearthly fragrance.
Overwhelmed, sobbing, laughing like a child, Dhritarashtra fell on his knees and cried in an ecstasy to Krishna, “My eyes see! Oh, you are the Lord of heaven and earth, Dark One! I am blessed that you sat in my sabha and showed yourself to me like this. Yet, O Krishna, I have a boon to beg of you, king of kings. Having seen you like this, I do not want my eyes to see anything else. Take back the sight you have given me, let my only memory of vision be of you.”
Krishna granted him that. But now, the Avatara had assumed his Viswa Rupa for longer than the earth could bear. The planet began to quake. Tempests swept the oceans and the seven seas began to evaporate in boiling tides. It seemed that time was ending and the world would burst asunder at any moment. Terrified birds flew in wheeling alarm and wild beasts dashed frenziedly everywhere. People of the earth came running out of their homes, screaming. The palace of Hastinapura shuddered and would have crumbled in a moment; then Krishna reverted to his human form. He was God no more, but just the mysterious master of Dwaraka again.
Duryodhana was still on his knees, with his head buried in his arms. All the others had their gazes riveted to the Dark One. Krishna rose. He took Satyaki and Vidura’s hands and walked out of the sabha. Like a deep blue flame he went and all the kings and all the munis rose and followed him, as smoke does a fire. He neither turned his face to them, nor spoke a word. Kritavarman had seen Krishna emerge from the sabha and brought his chariot to the palace steps. Krishna went down those steps with Vidura and Satyaki; Kritavarman saw measureless sorrow in his black eyes that glistened with tears.
From the top of those steps, Krishna heard Dhritarashtra’s anxious voice, “Krishna, you have seen how powerless I am. What can I do when my son will not listen to me?”
Krishna had one foot on the board of his chariot; the people had collected in the street. He paused and said loudly, “I have done everything I could to bring peace to the Kurus. Duryodhana will have none of it; he says he will not give his cousins even land to cover a point of a needle. Now the king admits he is powerless to stop his son from having his way. There is nothing more I can say. I must go back to Yudhishtira.”
He climbed into the chariot. “Go quickly, Satyaki. I must say farewell to Kunti before we return.”
At Vidura’s home, Krishna told Kunti what had happened in the Kuru sabha. He said grimly, “This nest of evil will soon burn with a conflagration called the Pandavas.” He took her hands, “But I must leave you now and fly back to Yudhishtira. Do you want to send any message for your sons?”
Kunti’s eyes were full of grief, full of fire. Quietly, she said, “Tell my sons that they are all kshatriyas and heavenly voices spoke when they were born. Their mother expects them to do what kshatriyas should. Krishna, tell Draupadi that no mother was ever prouder than I am to have her as my daughter.”
A smile broke out on her gracious face, lined with the years. She said, “As for a mother’s anxiety, I have none, Krishna, because I know you watch over my sons. Go in peace, my child.”
She embraced him. He touched her feet and went to his waiting chariot. Krishna set out for Upaplavya with Satyaki.
In the Kuru court, Duryodhana uncoiled himself off the floor like a hamadryad. He roared, “Prepare for war! We shall have war at once! I will not sleep or eat until battle is joined.”
Bheeshma cried, “Duryodhana, listen.”
Dhritarashtra cried, “My son!”
Vidura and Drona tried to stop him, but Duryodhana strode away from them. Soon, eleven aksauhinis prepared to march to the field of Kurukshetra for the war on the crack of the ages.