SEVENTEEN
Exhausted by his embassy, Krishna came back to Upaplavya. The Pandavas were waiting anxiously for the word he brought. He greeted them warmly, but his face was strained and he said he must sleep a while, before he told them what had happened in Hastinapura. Krishna retired to his apartment. It was evening when he appeared again in the court of Upaplavya. Yudhishtira welcomed him formally and, when everyone was seated, the Pandava said, “Krishna, I see sadness on your face and it is not difficult to imagine what the news is from Hastinapura. But tell us what happened.”
Krishna said, “I fear your inference is true, Yudhishtira. My mission failed and our dream of peace remains a dream. I did all I could to turn Duryodhana back to dharma. But he was obstinate.” He sighed, “There will be war, Yudhishtira, you will have to fight.”
A spasm of anguish twitched on Yudhishtira’s face. In a low voice, he said, “Tell me everything that happened. I want to hear each detail.”
“I was taken to the sabha in Hastinapura, where the Kuru elders sat on their thrones and where Narada and Vyasa waited and other rishis, to hear the destiny of the world being decided.”
Krishna told them how the elders tried to convince Duryodhana to relent, how Dhritarashtra, Bheeshma, Drona and Vidura spoke for peace. He told them what he himself had said and Duryodhana’s angry reply, arguing his innocence; and how the Kaurava walked haughtily out of the court.
Krishna described how Gandhari came to plead with Duryodhana and how he walked out again in fury, without answering his mother.
Finally, smiling, Krishna came to the plot to take him a hostage in Hastinapura. For once Yudhishtira lost his composure and cried in a terrible voice, “For that he will die! My days of forgiving him are over. The earth is thirsty for the blood of these beasts and she shall drink her fill. War! Let there be war! Let there be war at once!”
Bheema threw his mace into the air. He ran to Yudhishtira and embraced him wildly. He roared, “War! At last, my brother cries for war! Nothing can save Dhritarashtra’s sons now. Arjuna! Karna’s blood will darken the earth of Kurukshetra. Sahadeva, my brother, my eyes will watch you spill the vile Shakuni’s blood and shed tears of joy. Ah, Krishna! This is the happiest day of my life, I feel I have drunk amrita.”
Krishna said, “When I left for Upaplavya, Duryodhana had already ordered his army to march on Kurukshetra.” He was grave again, “Bheeshma will be the Senapati of the Kuru forces, its Supreme Commander. Dharma is on our side, but let us never underestimate the enemy. Your Pitama vanquished his guru Bhargava in battle; first of all, we have awesome Bheeshma to face. Arjuna and you Shikhandi, who have sworn to kill Bheeshma, prepare yourselves!”
Krishna did not say a word about his meeting with Karna in the woods. Yudhishtira rose to address the kings who had come with their armies to join him. “We have done our best to secure peace, but Duryodhana will have none of it. The war we must fight is a war thrust on us, a war we never wanted. The time of trial, the ruthless time, is upon us. I thank you all for coming to help me in the name of dharma. Krishna, Lord, seven aksauhinis are yours to command. Drupada, Virata, Dhrishtadyumna, Satyaki, Shikhandi, Chekitana and Bheema could, any of them, lead our army. You must decide what role each one will have. I also want to hear my brothers’ opinions, about who our Senapati should be. Sahadeva, child, you are the youngest, but the wisest in many ways. Let us hear what you think first.”
Sahadeva rose and said, “My lord, any of those you named can lead our army, for they are all great kshatriyas. But to stand against Pitama Bheeshma, I would choose king Virata of the Matsyas. He is a seasoned soldier, his age and experience commend him.”
Yudhishtira turned to Nakula, “Nakula, whom would you have as our Senapati?”
Nakula said with no hesitation, “Drupada, lord of the Panchalas. He is Bhargava’s sishya and Drona’s sworn enemy. Acharya Drona will play at least as crucial a role in the war as our Pitama. Drupada is a tapasvin, a master of astras; let him lead us into battle.”
Yudhishtira said, “Arjuna, whom do you choose for our general?”
“Let youth confront age and triumph. Let Dhrishtadyumna ride at the head of our army. None better than Drupada’s son to take fire to the enemy.”
“Bheema?”
Bheema said, “If Pitama Bheeshma is to be their Senapati, ours should be the one who has sworn a solemn oath spanning two lives to be the death of Bheeshma. He, too, is Drupada’s son. He is also a kshatriya. Let Shikhandi face Bheeshma and keep his vow.”
Yudhishtira said, “If our army has so many warriors that are fit to lead us, it must indeed be a force to contend with! But night wears on now and we have a choice to make before we sleep. If I had to choose anyone to lead us into war, I would not hesitate but choose Krishna. True, he is younger than some of us; but can anyone match his wisdom? It matters little whether he bears a weapon or not. All our destinies lie in his hands and I will submit to whatever he decides. Krishna, you tell us who our Senapati shall be.”
Krishna said, “It is a hard choice to make. All the kshatriyas you have named could hold up the host of Devaloka. The Kaurava army will perish before any of them.”
“But who shall be our Senapati, Krishna? The soldiers are awake and impatient to hear.”
Krishna said, “I agree with Arjuna. Drupada’s son Dhrishtadyumna is the one to lead us into battle.”
That sabha erupted in cheers and when Yudhishtira sent word to the army, the men were jubilant. Dhrishtadyumna was the choice of most of them, as well. Krishna and Yudhishtira then decided on commanders for each of the seven aksauhinis: Bheema, Nakula, Sahadeva, Dhrishtadyumna, Satyaki, Draupadi’s sons and Abhimanyu. The other kshatriyas were to be free to fight wherever they chose. Tired as they were, those kings of the earth, the soldiers of dharma, turned in for the night. The next day would be a momentous one.
Yudhishtira was up before the sun and, with Dhaumya and his other priests, he worshipped the Gods. He performed the sacred rituals that must be done, before fighting a war. As he finished his worship and the sun rose over Upaplavya, the other kshatriyas emerged from the palace and made their way to the soldiers’ tents. The Kekaya brothers were there, Dhrishtaketu, Sreniman, Vasushena, Virata, Shikhandi, Drupada, Sudharma, Kuntibhoja, the new Senapati Dhrishtadyumna, Anadhr-ishti, Chekitana, Satyaki, the Pandavas and their sons, Abhimanyu and dark Krishna, resplendent.
Dhrishtadyumna went to greet the troops, then the camp at Upaplavya was struck. That endless force moved majestically on foot, horse-and elephant-back and in chariots, singing lustily, to Kuruk-shetra. At last, they arrived at fate’s field, where the war at the end of the yuga would be fought, the war that would change the world. It would end the old order, come down from time out of mind and usher in a new, bizarre age on earth. The warriors all raised their conches and sounded them in thunderous unison; in an oceanic roar from a few million throats, the common soldiers shouted their exultation at the tremendous bass.
The Pandava army made fresh camp at the edge of the level field stretching away to the horizon; that place was transformed into a hive of activity. Dhrishtadyumna took charge of the arrangements. The site was measured and marked for soldiers’ tents, tents for kitchens to feed that teeming army, tents for the kings and their guards. Krishna and Satyaki oversaw the digging of a moat around the camp, to keep wild animals out at night. With so many hands to attend to its every aspect, work progressed swiftly; in less than a day, Yudhishtira’s flag fluttered above an established military camp, already functioning harmoniously. At the heart of the camp, was a mountain of weapons of every kind. Bows, quivers full of arrows, lances, swords, maces and axes of battle and a hillock of armor and finger-sheaths: for all to take from, when the fighting began.
The truth was that every man had been preparing for this for weeks. In the palace and in the camps at Upaplavya, kings, princes and soldiers together had planned meticulously how they would make their camp at Kurukshetra. Then they had waited impatiently for Krishna’s return from Hastinapura, to know if the war would indeed be fought. When they arrived at Kurukshetra, every soldier knew exactly what he must do.
Yet, when later, exhausted by the long march and the day’s hard labor, the men lay down to sleep under a slender moon, each one knew the war itself would be another matter. Then nothing could be predicted: not if they would ever see their families again, not life itself, from moment to moment, not though they fought on the side of dharma and that was an honorable way to die.