Dhananjaya: An Autobiography of Arjun

By Pratap Narayan Singh

A Novel about Arjun's life based on Epic Mahabharat written by award winning writer. Why 'Dhananjaya' is a must 'read'? 1.If you want to read a very interesting and racy novel. 2.If you want to be informed about Arjun's character as brought out in Ved Vyas's classic epic Mahabharata...his incomparable gallantry, his numerous 'affairs of the heart', and his unique character rooted in human compassion. 3.If you would like to know the truth behind the controversies and misunderstandings that have often followed and been associated with Arjun's character. 4.If you would like clarity on the many controversies surrounding the Epic as a whole 5.If you would like to delve deeper into the fundamental character traits of the various protagonists of the Mahabharata. 6. If you would like an in-depth understanding of the supernatural episodes portrayed in the Epic, but from a contemporary perspective... then 'Dhananjaya' is a 'must-read' for you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diamond Books
• Release date: Dec 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9789356848085

Book preview

In the Shatshringa Forest

(1)

The courtyard in front of the cottage had gradually filled up with visitors. Relieved from my responsibilities in the Yagya¹, I joined my younger siblings Nakul and Sahdev, who were busy with arrangements for the seating of and refreshments for our guests.

Just then, Anagh, my childhood friend, came up to me and said, Guess what, Arjun? On my way here, I saw a boar.

Where...? I queried.

In a clump of bamboo some distance to the West from here. He was growling menacingly; seemed in a fiery temper, make no mistake.

Now that is certainly cause for worry.

I feel we may have to eliminate this menace, Arjun! We can’t risk him attacking any of our esteemed guests and invitees.

Why didn’t you dispose of him while you were about it?

Frankly, friend, I didn’t think I could cope with him on my own. Why don’t you come along and we’ll tackle him together?

Now I was on the horns of a dilemma. Here I was, hosting numerous guests on this auspicious occasion. How could I pull myself away? On the other hand, should this wild boar become a peril for any of the guests...

As is my wont, I approached my elder brother Yudhishthir to seek his advice on this nettling situation.

Calm and collected as he always is, Bhaiya² Yudhishthir asked me, Do you feel you’ll be able to dispose of this menace on your own, or shall I also depute Bhim to accompany you? Bhaiya has always held my marksmanship and skills in archery in high esteem. But his unbounded love for me sometimes causes him anxiety. He has this unique quality of loving all his brothers so deeply, that each one of us felt himself the most loved of all!

No...no need to have Bhim Bhaiya accompany me. Anagh is also an accomplished archer, and he will be my ally on this mission.

Very well, then... Proceed without any concern for the guests and invitees here. We’ll take care of this end of things.

I proceeded to my cottage and, taking up my bow and quiver of arrows, left hastily with Anagh.

Aren’t you completing fourteen years today? asked Anagh as we sped on our way.

Yes... was my smiling reply, And so will you be, very soon.

In another three months. he said, smirking proudly.

Anagh and I hastened to the spot where he had spotted the wild boar. There he was, crouching behind some nearby bushes! I assessed his position, and concluded that I could pick him off from that range. But...I paused. What was this? Whilst his back and tensely twitching tail were visible, there was no sign of his neck and torso.

As we inched closer to our target, the rustle of dry leaves under our feet alerted him. Grunting and growling menacingly, he charged in our direction. Anagh, a little bit rattled at this development, let off a shot from his bow, which struck the boar in his back. Bellowing, he set off in another direction, with the two of us in pursuit.

Although injured, the boar was making good time, whereas the brush and vegetation made it difficult for me to take aim at my target. Every time I let off an arrow, an obstacle intervened, which made several of my shots go waste, with some of them embedding themselves in the trees around us. Undeterred, Anagh and I did not flag in our chase.

We gradually gained on him, and managed to injure him in his rear legs with our arrows. Hurt and partially maimed, the wild boar took refuge behind some bushes. We observed him from the shelter of some trees.

His face and head were clearly exposed to us, and there we decided to direct our decisive blow. Feeling the time to be right, I carefully took aim and fired at his brow. The arrow found its target, and Anagh too got a shot through to his snout. The boar made an attempt to rise and flee, but I quickly fired another three-four arrows into his head, while Anagh targeted his face and neck. Together, we had felled our target, as our closer inspection revealed.

Anagh turned to me and, smiling proudly, said, "Guru Ji³ was right when he said that you would make an even better archer than him."

You did yourself proud too... I said, Sewing his mouth shut with your arrows.

Anagh always looked upon me as his dear associate, and our closeness meant he could never feel jealous of my accomplishments. At the Gurukul⁴, whenever I performed exceptionally, he was the first one to be infected by happiness at my achievement.

Anagh and I were both pupils of Guru Shuka, widely renowned for his skills in Dhanurveda⁵. He was well known to my father and had, like him, renounced his kingdom to retire to these mountainous woods "Shatshringa".

I recall an incident from two or three years ago. Not too long into our training with Guru Shuka, we five Pandava brothers, along with Anagh, were returning from our lesson. Under a mango tree, five or six local young boys were playing and frolicking with their mates. What was holding their attention was a ripe mango dangling alluringly from the branches which, despite their best efforts, they were unable to reach!

Spotting us, one of them addressed us with not a little sarcasm thus: O noble archers! Are you really marksmen accomplished enough to target that mango for us?

The challenge incensed Anagh who, in a fit of temper, started raining arrows from his bow on the fruit. The target, however, was not a simple one, and he had no success. Somewhat disheartened, he said, This can possibly be accomplished only by Guru Ji.

All my brothers were eying me hopefully. It would be futile to pretend that any of us was unaffected by this challenge encountered by us. The only course of action, it seemed, was for me to ‘grasp this nettle’. Despite my first two arrows missing their mark, in a case of ‘third time lucky’, I soon had the mango lying on the ground, to the awe of all the standers-by.

The next day, Anagh narrated the entire incident to Guru Ji. To test me, Guru Ji set ten targets for me. I was able to zero in on eight of them on my very first attempt! At this, Guru Ji, embracing me joyfully, said, Arjun! I foresee that one day, you’ll become an even greater archer than me. This was what had been called to Anagh’s recollection upon our killing the boar.

Thanks to Guru Ji’s meticulous training combined with two or three years of diligent practice, I now had the self- confidence to undertake tougher and tougher tasks. Tomorrow, we commence training on shooting multiple arrows at a target from a designated distance.

We were both now basking in a warm glow, having vanquished the wild boar. But we suddenly realized that a good deal of time had passed since we started off on our mission. A bit worried, I turned to Anagh. It’s been quite a while, Anagh! Our guests must be done with their meal by now. Also, Bhaiya must be getting worried. Assenting, Anagh joined me as we scurried home as speedily as we could.

(2)

On the Eastern fringe of the forest, on a large plot of land, stood three cottages built close together. All the cottages faced East, with a courtyard fronting each of them. The courtyards featured vegetation such as trees, shrubs, and plants. This, then, was where we, the Pandava brothers, resided. Our mother’s cottage took centre stage, while to its South was our stepmother’s cottage, and to its North the cottage housing us five brothers.

Fourteen years ago, in the auspicious Uttara Phalguni zodiac sign, said to be ruled by the planetary force of the Sun, this was where I was born.. My mother sentimentally remembers that on that day, she perceived the whole forest to have been transformed into a scented garden! I often marvel as to how a mother’s sentimentality can transform the most mundane into the profound!

My father’s glorious reputation spanned North, South, East and West. Having relinquished a well-established and powerful empire, he had chosen to live life as a hermit, seeking answers to questions too profound to be addressed by a worldly being. His wives, however, ensured that they weren’t amongst the worldly objects he was able to abandon! The arrival of his progeny was welcomed by all residents of the neighbourhood ascetics, sages, and even, I am told, by the Devas⁶ and Gandharvas⁷. I was blessed to receive on this occasion not only bountiful gifts, but also boons extolling wealth, valour and glory in the years that lay ahead of me.

On this, my fourteenth birthday, all three cottages had been suitably decked up. For my four brothers, my ensuing birthday had formed the cornerstone of activities for the past ten days. My father, too, had taken great pleasure in inviting all the ‘notables’ from the neighbourhood.

My eldest brother (Yudhishthir) was, by nature, soft-spoken, unruffled, and sensible, besides being a skilful organizer. With my father mostly taken up with his spiritual pursuits, it was to Yudhishthir Bhaiya that most responsibilities devolved. All of his four siblings held him in high regard, and were forever at his command and disposal.

Bhaiya would generally allocate the responsibilities between us four siblings. For these special celebrations, I was, of course, exempted! Bhaiya himself took charge of the Yagya ceremony, with Bhim Bhaiya responsible for the dining arrangements. Nakul and Sahdev, our youngest siblings, were tasked with receiving the guests and invitees and ensuring that they were well looked after.

The frontage of our dwelling of cottages was graced by Vedis⁸ which would be the site for carrying out the Yagya ceremony, while the rear housed a massive kitchen catering to the needs of our esteemed visitors. All the women-folk were cloistered there, toiling away to serve up a festive lunch after the conclusion of the ceremonies. As dawn broke, the Yagya got under way with the chanting of Vedic mantras⁹. We siblings accompanied our father in the first batch, as was befitting.

As the ceremonies progressed, one could not but help being moved by the melodious chanting of the mantras, even as the offerings to the holy fire lit in the Vedis seemed to pulsate in every fibre of one’s being. The rich scents emanating from the offerings of Ghee¹⁰ and Samidha¹¹ seemed to blend with the very breaths that those present took, and overall an atmosphere of Supreme Bliss pervaded the proceedings.

With the first stage of the Yagya concluding, we brothers were excused, and could proceed to take up the duties assigned to us. It was while I was trying to lend a hand to Nakul and Sahdev in extending hospitality to our guests that Anagh arrived, and I had to accompany him in pursuit of the wild boar.

(3)

While on our way back home, Anagh and I were taken aback to hear the sound of wails - and they seemed to be coming from our dwelling place! My heart raced with anxiety and we sped home as fast as we could. There was a crowd encircling our stepmother’s cottage.

I shoved my way through, only to behold a sight that was heart-rending. Yudhishthir Bhaiya clasped me to his bosom, and our sobs merged like coalescing rivers. My beloved father was no more. And, sprawled on his mortal body was my stepmother who, too, had left for the World Beyond.

My mother, meanwhile, was inconsolable. In a terrible dirge, she flung her head and wailed, even losing consciousness from time to time. Efforts to console her by the wives of the assembled saints were proving futile. Nakul and Sahdev sat weeping at Father’s feet, while Bhim Bhaiya tearfully clasped them in his arms.

After I’d left with Anagh earlier that day, the Yagya had concluded by noon, and the feast was soon under way. My father, mother and stepmother joined my siblings in serving food to the guests.

After a while, my father felt some uneasiness in his chest. Not wanting to raise an alarm, he said to my mother, Kunti! I am tired and want to rest. Please see that the activities continue unhindered. So saying, he retreated to my stepmother’s cottage.

My mother alerted my stepmother Madri, urging her to look after my father while she herself took care of the festivities in progress.

Soon thereafter, my father was convulsed with severe chest pain, and his heart seized. Hearing my stepmother’s screams, everybody rushed to her cottage. It was, however, too late to save my father’s life. Overcome with unbearable grief, my stepmother too passed away.

Before the day had passed, both were administered their last rites following traditional Hindu customs. Never before in my young life had I experienced such a traumatic day. I was witness to a cremation ceremony for the first time in my life. As the flames consumed the mortal remains, the rising smoke seemed to cloud my every perception, and I knew not how to handle this moment and the numerous questions of Life and Death it raised in my being. Everything seemed so meaningless and futile!

My tears may have soon dried, but they were replaced by an utter lack of feeling that was astounding to behold. My mother and brothers could not, however, cease their weeping. Nakul and Sahdev faced an even worse situation...they had lost both their mother and father. I gazed in stupor at the sky, racked from time to time by the memory of my mother’s sobs till, eventually, the black night swallowed in its darkness the mourners and their mourning...

(4)

Fifteen days had passed since the demise of my father, with most of the related ceremonies being performed over the last thirteen days.

Outside the cottage, under a Neem tree, Guru Shuka and five other saints sat deep in contemplation. They were lost in the thoughts of one who had been so close to them... In front of them, Mother and Yudhishthir Bhaiya sat on a raised seat, while we four brothers sat on the ground, next to a platform near the tree. The subject matter of contemplation, expectedly, came around to the key question, What next...? All of those gathered put their thoughts forward one by one.

Guru Shuka addressed my mother thus: Esteemed Lady! in my view, after the demise of King Pandu, I do not believe you and your sons ought to continue this life of exile in the forest. Your stay here was occasioned by his life mission, which was to renounce worldly pursuits in favour of spiritual ones. With his having departed this world, it does not seem that there is any reason for your continuing to live here as hermits. And do not forget, your sons are rightful heirs of the Kingdom of Hastinapur.

Yudhishthir Bhaiya, however, voiced his reservations along the following lines, "Gurudev! Would our return to Hastinapur be appropriate from the social and political standpoint? Would we not be persona non grata there? After all, Father had renounced his right to the kingdom fairly long back."

To which, one of the elderly saints had this to say, The renunciation was by King Pandu, and not his sons. Their right, in my view, does not get automatically extinguished.

"The revered saint is right, Yudhishthir. The father’s renunciation does not extend automatically to his sons as well. And then, Hastinapur has in its Court such notables as Bhishm and Vidur. Doubtless, they shall take a view on this that will be driven by fairplay, justice and political propriety. You brothers are fast approaching manhood. As Kshatriya¹² princes, you owe a debt to society as well. This cannot be fulfilled by continuing to lead the life of ascetics in the forest," opined Guru Shuka. Turning to Mother, he asked what her views were on the matter.

I am at a loss for words, Gurudev. My life as good as ended, the moment my spouse departed this world. But bringing up my sons to adulthood and having them assume their rightful place in society is, doubtless, my responsibility. My only wish is that for the rest of my life, I manage to live in peace as I have until now. I take your point that it does not behove successors to the Royal House of Hastinapur to continue to live like hermits in the forest, said Mother.

Right. That is why I feel that you people should proceed to Hastinapur as soon as possible... said Gurudev, I am sure you would be welcomed there. After all, Dhritraashtra was particularly attached to his younger brother Pandu, who was very dear to Bhishm Pitaamah too.

As you deem fit, Gurudev, said Mother with a deep sigh.

In which case, let preparations for departure be made. May the Lord bless and keep you, said Guru Shuka, concluding the discussion. All the sages present endorsed the proposal. It was reckoned that an auspicious time to depart would be three days thence.

We brothers had heard various accounts about Hastinapur from Mother. Its palaces, tall buildings, the grandeur of the Kingdom...these memories, we observed, were enough to transport Mother back to the days she’d spent there as a Queen. She would regale us with tales from the past featuring the gallantry of Father, the glories of the Kuru empire, and anecdotes relating to our grandmother and great grandmother.

She would proudly recount how brave our ancestor King Shaantanu was, and how the illustrious Bhishm Pitamah waged his historic battle against Parshuraam. Bhishm Pitamah was the elder brother of our grandfather, and we had grown up listening to tales of his valor, sagacity and wisdom. It would not be too much to say that he was one of the legendary figures that both the Pandavas and the Kauravas held in awe. Listening to these narratives made the tales come alive in our imagination, and only enhanced our wish to see Hastinapur at the soonest.

Ever since the decision to move to Hastinapur had been taken, the dark clouds engulfing my mind had been gradually lifting. After my father’s demise, the very environment around our dwellings seemed imbued with a miasma of sadness. The lustre had died out of not just our countenances, but even the flowers and shrubs, that seemed to struggle with sorrow.

Visions of Hastinapur would revive somewhat our dim eyes, as we visualized getting to meet Father’s elder brother, our other uncles and relatives, and, last but not the least, our hundred cousins. Our drifting, wandering minds found some solace in these thoughts, and we seemed to be moving towards a welcoming, sheltering force.

(5)

On the appointed day, five bullock carts were harnessed to carry us, along with our effects, to Hastinapur. We five brothers and Mother were in the first cart. The next two carried a group of sages and saints who had been our co-dwellers in the Shatshringa forest.

Another cart carried the mortal remains of my father and stepmother, in the custody of a group of forest dwellers. The fifth cart was loaded with provisions for the journey. An elderly saint had apprised us that it would take seven days to reach Hastinapur.

Prior to the journey, I was excited at the prospect of proceeding to Hastinapur. However, as the journey progressed, I was assailed by fond memories of the forest dwellings where I had spent the formative years of my childhood. It seemed to me that I was leaving a significant part of me behind along with the forest. The place of my birth, my comrades-in-arms, the prancing of the deer, the free-flowing breeze, the unfettered, unblemished experiences of growing up surrounded by flowers and shrubs...all came flooding into my mind.

Heaven knows when we’ll get to meet again, friend, said Anagh tearfully. Embracing him, not quite in control of my emotions, I said, For all we know, Fate may reunite us some day. Anagh followed our caravan on foot for some distance and then stood there watching us out of sight.

Gurudev Shuka, at our parting, endowed each of us five brothers with a gift- a lance for Yudhishthir Bhaiya, a mace for Bhim Bhaiya, swords for Nakul and Sahdev, and for me, a beautiful bow with arrows. He was to start our lessons in archery anew the day after my birthday; due to Father’s unfortunate demise, however, we were deprived of the opportunity.

Ever since I heard the story of the great scripture Ramayan in my childhood, Lord Ram embodied The Ideal for me. Like Him, I too aspired to becoming an obedient son, one respectful of his seniors, and a suppliant and true disciple of his Gurus. Besides, of course, an accomplished archer! Every facet of Lord Ram’s persona was fascinating for me. A day came in His life that saw him renounce a life of royalty and proceed to the forest...and here I was, quitting the forest to proceed to a royal court! While Lord Ram faced no dilemma whatsoever in taking his decision, my heart and mind were not so fortunate. There, I thought to myself, lay the chasm between an extraordinary being and an ordinary one.

By the time afternoon was nigh, our caravan had progressed from the mountainous forest to the plains. We were surrounded by farmland in all four directions. The sun’s rays made the buds seem golden, which was an entirely novel experience for me. Hastinapur grabbed my attention again. Would this new landscape be a feature there too?!

Once again, the deliberations we’d had prior to our departure came flooding back to me. What would our arrival in Hastinapur herald? Would the members of our kin indeed welcome us with open arms?

Our travel carried on for seven days. At nightfall, we’d camp near some village. The next morning would see us on our way again. We were the subject of unconcealed curiosity as we went on our way. Some did not hesitate to pass comments, which were met by stoic silence on the part of Mother and Yudhishthir Bhaiya. It was Bhim Bhaiya, Nakul and Sahdev who lightened the grim atmosphere with their occasional witticisms.

As we proceeded further, the landscape grew less dense, with clumps of trees giving way to cultivated fields and human dwellings. The forest trails were replaced by wider roads fashioned from packed earth.

By the seventh day, we had reached Singh-Dwaar, one of the fortified entrances to Hastinapur. The sheer skill and workmanship of this human endeavour astounded me. Carved in stone, this majestic entrance was flanked at both its ends by tall, seemingly impenetrable walls hewn out of stone.

All of us alighted from our carts. One of the sages approached the official at the gate to intimate the identity of the new arrivals. Not just the passers-by, the officials, too, were struck dumb by our congregation. Gradually, a curious crowd built up, wondering who we were. A rider was despatched to the king’s court with the news.

It did not take long for the news to spread like wildfire that Queen Kunti and her sons had returned, accompanied by a bevy of saints and hermits. The citizens of Hastinapur flocked in waves for a glipmse of their former queen and to seek the blessings of the accompanying sages.

The entire citizenry were beholding Mother and us, the five brothers, with their eyes brimming with tears of affection. Slogans were being raised in praise of Mother and my late father, and blessings for our (the brothers’) long life were being bestowed. Verily, it seemed as if they had re-possessed some long-lost treasure!

"Maharani¹³! You have returned! Now all will be well with this Kingdom." said an old man, falling at Mother’s feet. He had tears of joy in his eyes. Yudhishthir Bhaiya, ever the epitome of humility, helped him to his feet.

The old man resumed, "With the departure of Maharaj¹⁴ Pandu, it seemed as if this kingdom had suffered a curse. Now that your sons are back, I can see prosperity returning." Even as he was moved to tears, most of the citizenry present there hastened to endorse his views.

Mother was completely at a loss for words. She composed herself and simply said, All will be well.

I had hitherto only heard about the tremendous goodwill, love and affection that my father and mother had enjoyed in Hastinapur. Today, I saw it manifested in front of my eyes. Truly, Father had been a great King. This realization made my chest swell in pride and my eyes grew moist with emotion.

What had just passed, however, made one thing clear to me. That all was not well with the Kingdom of Hastinapur. It was quite altered from the Kingdom my father had left behind, all those years ago.

❒

1. Yagya: A sacrificial rite or performance of duty.

2. Bhaiya: Elder Brother.

3. Guru Ji: A teacher, mentor or sage holding a revered position in the life of his student (Shishya’).

4. Gurukul: A Residential School where primary education was imparted in ancient India.

5. Dhanurveda: A scientific treatise on the art of warfare in ancient India.

6. Devas: A class of divine beings who, in Indian religion, are considered benevolent by nature.

7. Gandharvas: They are mentioned extensively in the Indian epics as beings endowed with special powers. They are associated both with the Devas and with the Yakshas.

8. Vedi: A raised platform or a place specially built for burning a sacred fire, offering pooja and sacrifice, all being components of the yagya.

9. Vedic Mantra: A group of words in Sanskrit believed by practitioners to have religious, magical or spiritual powers.

10. Ghee: Purified butter.

11. Samidha: An offering for a Sacred Fire.

12. Kshatriya: One of the four varna (social orders) of Hindu society, associated with warriorhood.

13. Maharani: Queen.

14. Maharaj: King.

Into a New Environment

(1)

Even as we watched, a convoy of chariots drove up to Singh-Dwaar. They were suitably bedecked, which was befitting, as they bore distinguished members of the Kuru clan. Amongst those who formed the welcome party were Bhishm Pitamah, Uncle Vidur, Dhritraashtra the king of Hastinapur, as also Duryodhan accompanied by some of his brothers our paternal cousins. Uncle Vidur was the Prime Minister of Hastinapur. He was acknowledged by all those who came into contact with him as a master of jurisprudence. Although we did not know it then, he was to play a key role in our lives in the future.

In their royal robes and finery, they struck a stark contrast to their guests as they descended from their chariots and approached us.

We were setting eyes on those of whom we had hitherto only heard accounts. Appropriate greetings were exchanged, even as the sages present introduced us, as also conveyed the news of the sad demise of my father and stepmother. Expectedly, this last news was received with brimming eyes by the three family seniors.

King Dhritraashtra clutched the urn containing my father’s ashes to his breast and lamented, Oh Pandu! my younger brother! His unseeing eyes discharged tears of grief. Uncle Vidur, too, dissolved in a flood of tears. There was not a dry eye amongst those present. For us, too, the moments of grief we had experienced some twenty days ago re-manifested themselves, as Bhishm Pitamah and Uncle Vidur embraced us brothers, overcome with emotion.

After some time, having regained his composure, Bhishm Pitamah said, Come, let us all proceed to the Palace. Pitamah insisted, too, that the sages also accompany us. We tried to adjust to the new normal and moved towards the chariots, with Vidur Kaka (as he was affectionately known) helping Dhritraashtra on his way.

Duryodhan, indicating us, had this rather tasteless comment to make, Uncle Vidur, will these forest dwellers now come to stay with us in the Palace?

These aren’t forest dwellers, Duryodhan. They happen to be the sons of your uncle, the late Pandu Maharaj, erstwhile King of Hastinapur, responded Kaka Vidur curtly.

I was immediately able to form my first impression regarding Duryodhan. To wit, that he was an arrogant, foolish and self-opinionated fellow. Being of a mind lacking stability, he was quite capable of blurting out anything anywhere, without a thought as to propriety. It was as though his knee jerk reaction to any random thought that germinated in his mind would immediately regurgitate itself through his tactless lips.

He seemed to me to possess a rather low level of comprehension. My assessment was immediately validated by Duryodhan blurting out to Kaka Vidur, Where have these people suddenly sprung from? We’d heard nothing about them in all these years past.

Kaka Vidur, quite plainly nettled, said, This is not the time for this kind of talk, Duryodhan. Let’s discuss all this once we’re at the Palace.

Bu it took King Dhritraashtra’s commanding tone, Duryodhan, calm down, to silence my cousin. By now, we had reached and boarded the chariots.

It did not take the chariots long to transport us to the Royal Palace. As was only to be expected, it was a vast and far-flung edifice. The sages were accommodated in the guest rooms, while Kaka Vidur escorted us to the chambers in the interiors of the Palace.

The news of the demise of my father and stepmother had permeated the inner sanctum sanctorum. The Palace’s interiors were divided into several portions, each of which were independent dwelling units in themselves. These were laid out around captivating gardens featuring redolent flowers and mini streams, which contributed to making the atmosphere charming and soothing.

We entered a chamber that was, as we learnt, used for intra-family consultations. Awaiting us there were our two grandmothers Ambika and Ambalika, as also our great grandmother Satyavati. Queen Gandhari was also present, and tearful eyes and sympathetic looks were directed at us by all of them. This was quite understandable as, in the death of King Pandu and his wife Madri, each of those present had lost kith and kin! Also, they were meeting Mother Kunti after a long interval, so their emotiveness was truly understandable.

After our meeting, we were ushered to one of the dwelling units. It appeared not to have been in use, for some time past. The dwelling unit Mother Kunti had occupied as Queen was now occupied by Queen Gandhari.

We had been enthralled by the grandeur and majesty of the Palace when we entered it, but now our enthusiasm was somewhat deflated. Not only was this dwelling unit totally bereft of any gardens or greenery, it was boxed in and suffocating.

Surrounding the main chamber were four or five relatively smaller rooms. The frontage was like an open courtyard. Perhaps it had once housed a garden. Some of walls had fallen into disrepair and decay. The main chamber featured two ventilators, seemingly our only means of communicating with the outer world.

Peeping out, I observed that one offered a view of the raised wall of the Palace, and the other of a nearby courtyard. That courtyard, I saw, was encircled by what appeared to be servants’ quarters...it seemed to me that that portion, too, had once been part of the dwelling unit now allocated to us.

Dismay was writ large on all our faces. But we were silent and restrained. Some domestics, assigned to us, got busy refurbishing and furnishing what was to be our new home.

As the sun set, a dull haze enveloped the atmosphere. In the meanwhile, a messenger arrived with the missive that Pitamah had desired our presence in the Consultation Chamber. Upon reaching there, we found, already assembled, Pitamah, Kaka Vidur and King Dhritraashtra, along with Queen Gandhari, both our grandmothers and our great grandmother. Ambalika, the younger grandmother, was my late father Pandu’s mother.

We all took our seats. After once again condoling us, Pitamah addressed the gathering thus: We have consulted with the Head Priest, as also sages present. We shall depart tomorrow morning for the banks of the Holy Ganges to carry out the immersion of the mortal remains of the dear departed. Vidur shall be overall in charge of the arrangements.

All present expressed agreement. Then followed some discussions wherein we described our lives in the forest prior to coming to Hastinapur. Soon, it was time for dinner. This was partaken in a communal Dining Hall with all the family members sitting down to dine together.

After the meal, we headed for our newly allotted chambers for our first night-stay in Hastinapur.

Before retiring for the night, Yudhishthir Bhaiya, who was visibly ill-at-ease, turned to Mother. All does not seem well here in Hastinapur, Mother... he said, I wonder if coming here was a mistake on our part. I reckon his misgivings stemmed from Duryodhan’s uncouth behaviour while welcoming us.

Not at all... said Mother with a long sigh, Both destiny and propriety dictated that our coming to Hastinapur was the only possible course of action.

Mother must have known in advance that our arrival here would not, inevitably, please all concerned. She was also aware that despite a distinguished persona like Bhishm Pitamah being part of the Kuru court, the subjects of Hastinapur were far from contented. She also had an inkling that on the night Duryodhan was born, bad omens had manifested themselves in Hastinapur. The streets of Hastinapur had filled up with jackals, whose heart- rending cries pervaded the atmosphere.

Earlier, in the meeting room as well as in the dining hall, I had this instinctive feeling that there was no love lost between our two grandmothers, despite their being sisters. The unease between them was clear to even the most casual observer. Our great grandmother, on the other hand, seemed to epitomize love and affection. But her eyes reflected a certain sorrow that was hard to miss. The impression one got was that inside her, something was fragmenting, which she was struggling hard to contain.

Early next morning, a palanquin was arranged in which the urns containing the last remains of my father and stepmother were placed. Accompanied by other family members, we proceeded to the banks of the Holy Ganges to carry out the immersion ceremony at the Ghat.

It was quite an impressive congregation that went on its way, with chariots and horses in their regal splendour. The family elders Pitamah, Vidur Kaka, King Dhritraashtra and Yudhishthir Bhaiya - took turns to carry the palanquin on their shoulders. As a mark of respect, other mourners, too, took turns in bearing the palanquin to the river bank.

As the news percolated into Hastinapur, virtually its entire populace joined the procession. By the time we reached the Ghat, there was a vast congregation of subjects spread over every inch of available space.

As the eldest brother, Bhaiya Yudhishthir went through the various ceremonies as instructed by the priests present. There was not a dry eye amongst those present. Whilst Mother dissolved in a fit of tears, my grandmother Ambalika swooned away.

Even as the ceremonies proceeded, an undercurrent was perceived by me. There seemed to be a simmering discontent amongst the subjects, which evidenced itself in their mutterings, almost akin to the atmosphere I had felt around me when we’d arrived at the gates of Hastinapur.

On our return journey, Duryodhan once again displayed his tactlessness by targeting us with the following soliloquy, Well, forest-dwellers, do you now intend to stick on here? He had a dozen of his brothers with him, who also seemed to find something amusing in his tasteless remarks. This would have provoked an instant reaction from Bhim Bhaiya, but Yudhishthir Bhaiya motioned to him to exercise restraint.

We had reached our chariot in silence when Duryodhan, targeting Bhim, came up with this insulting observation, What meat have you been consuming in the forest, to have developed this ogre-like body? Bhim Bhaiya was not only extremely powerful, but also had a short fuse where temper was concerned. Yudhishthir Bhaiya, being only too well aware of this, drew him away by the hand and hastily motioned to the charioteer to move on.

(2)

Even though the designated mourning period for my father Pandu and stepmother Madri had passed, our grief showed no signs of abating. It was as though a cloud of gloom had descended upon Hastinapur. The very air seemed oppressive to breathe. I was unable to fathom what forces were at play here.

My father had renounced this kingdom several years ago, and had not returned to visit it even once. Despite this, how could the subjects be grieving so at his demise? Could it be that they were discontented, and had harboured within themselves a faint, flickering hope of my father returning some day as their King? Had they been nurturing an aspiration about my father someday returning to Hastinapur to set things right, as it were? Was it that, with his demise, their last hopes on this account had been dashed?

My mind was being assailed by a host of questions. What, really, comprised the pain of the subjects of Hastinapur? Like me, Yudhishthir Bhaiya and Mother were also pondering over these questions.

Maharishi Ved Vyas, who had a marked influence on the Kuru clan, got news of my father’s demise and arrived at the Royal Palace. I learnt from Mother that Maharishi Vyas was the eldest son of my great grandmother Satyavati. He had, in his childhood itself, taken upon himself a life of renunciation. He was reputed to possess an immense intellect and was reckoned to be knowledgeable on all the four Vedas. It was also hearsay that within him reposed miraculous powers, including the ability to foresee the future with a great deal of clarity and certainty.

One day, Maharishi Vyas was asked by great grandmother: Son, how many worldly sorrows have I yet to endure in this life? She had, after all, encountered first the death of her sons and now that of her grandson.

Mother! The sorrows suffered by you so far are in fact negligible compared to the ones yet to come, in your life. I foresee a dance of death knocking at the doors of time. This land is destined to shed tears of blood. I therefore urge you to renounce this royal life and retire to meditate in the forests. There alone shall you be able to get deliverance!

My great grandmother was overcome by tears. Taking Maharishi Vyas’s advice, she carried out his bidding as soon as she could, taking along with her her two daughters-in-law. Despite Bhishm Pitamah and Vidur Kaka’s entreaties for her to reconsider her decision, she did not relent.

(3)

One afternoon, while I was practicing by myself in the corridor, Yudhishthir Bhaiya approached me and said, Arjun, why don’t we go horse riding? After our arrival in Hastinapur, Pitamah had facilitated our training in horsemanship.

All right, Bhaiya. I slung my bow over my shoulder, and prepared to accompany him.

Do not carry your bow along, said Bhaiya, leaving me bemused as to where we could possibly be heading.

Very well, let me place this inside. And so doing, I set out with him. We collected our horses from the stables and were soon on our way.

Bhaiya, have we Mother’s permission for this? I queried as I prepared to mount.

Yes, answered Bhaiya briefly. I knew that it was not Bhaiya’s nature to undertake a task or mission without a sound reason. We rapidly rode out to the villages on the outskirts of Hastinapur. While en route, another curt instruction was forthcoming from Bhaiya, Do not identify yourself to anyone we meet.

It was fairly close to sunset when we reached a village, where we halted. We were tired, and could do with a drink of water. We observed a set of people seated on cots spread out under a Neem tree. Nearby was a well. We dismounted, and approached this gathering. There were four people seated on two cots, with a couple of youths lounging by the well.

Seeing us approach, the four people seated on the cots rose to greet us. There was eagerness in their eyes as they looked forward to meeting us newcomers. With a gesture, Bhaiya advised them to be seated, indicating that we were just weary travellers anxious to quench our thirst. The elderly amongst the gathering sat down, while the others remained standing.

Please be seated, said one of the elders welcomingly, making a comfortable niche for us on the cot. He then instructed one of the youths, "Mahesh! Go home and fetch some jaggery. And make