TWENTY-THREE
Uluka arrived uneasily in the Pandava camp. He was shown into Yudhishtira’s presence. All five Pandavas were in the capacious tent; Krishna was there, as well, with some other kings of their alliance. Uluka found his palms clammy with fear. He greeted the Pandavas stiffly and said, “I have come as Duryodhana’s messenger. He sends word through me for each of you. But, Yudhishtira, I am afraid to deliver his messages; I fear for my life if I do.”
Yudhishtira said kindly, “Have no fear, Uluka. A messenger is never to be harmed and I guarantee your safety.”
Uluka drew a deep breath and said, “My cousin and king, Duryodhana, says to you and these words are his, not mine: ‘Yudhishtira, you were my slave once and we dragged your wife into our sabha like a slut. Which kshatriya would have allowed his woman to be treated like that and let the insult go unavenged? If you were ever a man, Pandava, on that day you lost your manhood. We took it from you as Draupadi’s shame.
You spent twelve years in the forest like a beggar. Then you spent one year as Virata’s menial, a calling you are better suited to than kingship. And now you dare come back and challenge me? Yudh-ishtira, the hour of reckoning is here and fine talk of dharma will not serve you any more. This is the moment of truth and it will show you up for what you have always been: a common coward, cousin!’“
Uluka paused. Bheema began to rise, but Yudhishtira motioned him to hold his peace. Yudhish-tira said, “Is that all, Uluka? You said Duryodhana sent messages for my brothers as well.”
“He has. Would you hear them?”
“We must,” said Yudhishtira, with a sad smile.
“Duryodhana says to Bheema, ‘You, braggart, swore to drink Dusasana’s blood. From what we hear, you have become a magnificent cook. Loudmouth, wielding a ladle and wielding a mace are very different things. Carving dead meat is easy, but we shall see how you carve my brother’s heart. Since your skills at cooking have become such a legend, I can offer you work in my kitchen, if you like.’“
Bheema was so taken aback he sat mildly dazed. Uluka didn’t pause for him to recover.
“Duryodhana says to Arjuna, ‘As for you, Arjuna, who boast you will kill Karna, I hear you spent the last year among the women in Virata’s court, teaching them to sing and dance. I hear you have become a eunuch, cousin. How can a eunuch even think of fighting Karna?
Nakula and Sahadeva, their mother’s darlings, have also found their true vocation with Virata. Boys, I could find work for you too in my stables and cowsheds. But then, you have sworn to kill my uncle Shakuni and his son, haven’t you? I fear you will be meat for scavengers before I can employ you.
Yudhishtira, your lofty dharma has finally led you and your brothers to my quenchless army. Prepare to meet your God.’“
Uluka paused, red-faced; he glanced anxiously at Krishna. Complete silence had fallen in that tent. Krishna said smoothly, “I am sure Duryodhana sent a message for me, Uluka. We are eager to hear it.”
Uluka hesitated. The Dark One said, “You have our word you will not be harmed, whatever message you bring.”
Bracing himself, Uluka said, “Duryodhana sends this message to you, Krishna. ‘We are not fooled by your magic trick in Hastinapura. You spoke brave words that day. You said you would destroy the world with Arjuna and Bheema beside you. Cowherd, this is not Vrindavana where you seduced the gopikas with piping and dancing. This is war and we are kshatriyas. We are not impressed by your ludicrous fame as the Avatara. We laugh at these grandmother’s tales and at your conjuring.’“
The Pandavas looked like fire just kindled. At the insult to Krishna, Bheema began to get up again, growling. Uluka was certain his last moment on earth had arrived. Krishna nodded to Bheema to sit down.
Calmly, Krishna said to Uluka, “Go back safely to your cousin, Uluka and take him this message from me. Tell him Krishna says, ‘Evil one, you have not lived like a kshatriya; at least, let us see you die like one. Duryodhana, you dare send such a message to me today because you know I have sworn not to fight. Otherwise, your army would burn even now like dry grass in a forest-fire. But Yudhishtira has asked me to carry no arms during this war. He says revenge belongs to him and his brothers and I have sworn to be just Arjuna’s sarathy.
But I also swear, Duryodhana, my warrior’s chariot will strike terror in your heart. Asleep or awake, you will see my horses. In your dreams, you will hear their hooves drumming your death. You will see Bheema kill your hundred brothers. You will see him drink Dusasana’s blood; and you will not be asleep or dreaming when the ghastly sight lights your eyes, though you will wish you were. All that the Pandavas have sworn they will do. You forswear yourself as you please; but their oaths are solemn and each word of them shall be kept.’
Take my message to your king, Uluka.”
Bheema growled, “Tell Duryodhana Bheema hasn’t forgotten a syllable of what he swore. Tell him to be prepared to see all his brothers die on Kurukshetra, his sons and nephews as well. Tell him when those gruesome sights darken his eyes and break his heart, he will remember this message bitterly. He will see me drink Dusasana’s blood. Finally, he may hide himself in heaven, earth or hell, but I will hunt him down and break his thigh, as I swore. And he will die.”
The smoldering Bheema sat down, much to Uluka’s relief. Shakuni’s prince was afraid that, at any moment, the son of the wind might change his mind about keeping Yudhishtira’s word and kill the messenger.
Grimly, Arjuna said, “Your king is beneath contempt. He is such a coward that he has made Bheeshma his Senapati. Has he no shred of shame that he calls an old man to defend him? If Duryodhana thinks Arjuna will stay his hand because his Pitama takes the field, he is mistaken. I will kill my grandfather if I have to. If Bheeshma comes to fight, he will die. One by one, every warrior who fights against us, every kshatriya Duryodhana relies on to secure his evil purpose, will fall. And at last my brother Bheema will kill your king. Tell our cousin that Arjuna says the Pandavas do not make empty threats; what we have sworn, we will do. Let him be ready to die.”
With these fierce messages, Uluka went back to Duryodhana. Night had fallen and Duryodhana’s mocking laughter echoed among the campfires when he heard what Krishna and the Pandavas said.
He cried, “They are afraid! They know their army will not last a day against Bheeshma; I need no other other kshatriya. Arjuna speaks bravely, but his heart quails within him. I know him. He will hardly dare fight when he sees our grandfather take the field.”
There was drinking and celebration in the Kaurava camp. Then, Duryodhana and his warriors slept; a sleep of those who felt more confident than they should have.
Across the darkling Saraswati, Yudhishtira could not sleep. Krishna and Arjuna sat up with him, while the moon rose over the river, setting her currents alight in burning silver.
Into the silence of the midnight hour, Yudhishtira said, “Krishna, I feel sick at the thought of this war. Darkness has come over us all, Krishna, as if the age is perverted. How can I feel anything but horror, when I think we must attack our Pitama with arrows tomorrow?”
In rare anger, Krishna snapped at him, “This is no time for regrets! It is a great war you face tomorrow. You are the lord of this army. How will your soldiers fight if their master is so hesitant? For you there is no sin in this war, Yudhishtira, your kshatriya dharma is to fight.”
Krishna’s eyes shone in the firelight. “When I was in Hastinapura, there was only one voice I heard raised unambiguously against Duryodhana, Vidura’s. Bheeshma was there, but I heard no strong words from him against your cousin; nor from your precious Acharyas, Drona and Kripa. I thought to myself, aren’t the Pandavas also Bheeshma’s grandsons; why does he love only Duryodhana so much? Aren’t Yudhishtira and his brothers Drona’s and Kripa’s sishyas; why are the brahmanas so loyal to Duryodhana? If your Pitama loved you as much as he should, Yudhishtira, would he agree to be Duryodhana’s Senapati? I hear the only condition he made was that Karna would not fight beside him.”
It is uncertain if what Krishna said was more for Yudhishtira to hear, or Arjuna. Yudhishtira said, unsteadily, “Arjuna, I spent thirteen years in the wilderness to avoid fighting our cousins. Bheema wanted war, even you did. I begged you to be patient and you were noble enough to respect my wishes. Yet, here we are on the brink of this hideous war. Oh, my brother, the kali yuga is upon us and the God of wrath has been born into the world.” He sobbed, “How will we kill our grandfather and our gurus, whom we have worshipped all these years? Whatever you might say, Krishna, this is a sin!
To console Yudhishtira, Arjuna said, “There is no sin in fighting those who have decided to kill us anyway. Our Pitama, Drona and Kripa know the goodness of your heart and that yours is the way of dharma, but they have cast their lot with Duryodhana. Couldn’t they have joined us instead? We must not falter now. Once the river flows down the mountain where it springs, it must run on into the sea. The river does not turn back and neither can we. Don’t grieve any more, my noble brother, but sleep now. Tomorrow is a momentous day and you must be strong for all our sakes.”
Krishna’s heart was full of thoughts too deep to plumb. As always, he was alone with them.