Read THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 Online
Authors: Ramesh Menon
The Pandavas, Krishna, Balarama and the others sit in a wide circle around the antagonists. Balarama is full of grace after his pilgrimage. His face is radiant; so is his body: fair as wave-froth, draped in shimmering blue silk. Krishna sits at his side, dark and mysterious as a blue lotus. Together, they are like the full moon and a cloud beside it.
Bheema and Duryodhana bow solemnly to each other and the battle begins with a clap of maces ringing together, showering the two kshatriyas in sparks. The earth under their feet shudders with each stroke and birds fly out of the trees, crying in alarm. But what Duryodhana said when he lay submerged in the lake is true and the combatants are soon overcome by tiredness. They stagger on their feet and can hardly swing their weapons.
Yudhishtira calls a halt to the duel. “You are both exhausted. Rest a while and then resume.”
Panting, Bheema and Duryodhana sink down on the ground, gratefully. When they have rested an hour, they rise and fight again. Like two bull-elephants in a jungle’s heart, Duryodhana and Bheema battle and the night is lit by the moon risen above them and the streams of sparks that flow from their maces when they ring against each other are endless firefly swarms! The Pandavas light some torches, as well, for them to fight by. They fight honorably, with dharma and Balarama, their master, watches them with some pride.
Once or twice, Duryodhana, his skills dazzling, strikes Bheema’s mace out of his hands. He never strikes the Pandava when he is unarmed, but waits for him to retrieve his weapon before attacking him again. Bheema’s roars shake Samantapanchaka. Now he strikes his cousin’s mace from his hands and Duryodhana’s eyes blaze in the night. In a wink, he picks up his weapon and, even as he rises with it, he fells Bheema with a flashing blow. Bheema is up at once and they fight again.
Into the small hours they duel; until Yudhishtira stops them once more, saying they should rest and begin again with the new day. They sleep for a few hours. When Bheema and Duryodhana awake, it is with fire in their eyes. With dawn, they battle once more, more powerfully than ever. Their grunts and growls, their roars reverberate through the sacred glade. Their maces flash in the sun: Bheema’s, which the Asura Mayaa gave him and Duryodhana’s, as splendid.
Bheema’s blows felled elephants during the war. But Duryodhana is a dancer, easily evading his stronger, but less agile adversary’s extravagant strokes. The Kaurava fights with uncanny speed and he is hardly less powerful than Bheema. Twice he knocks the Pandava down and once Bheema faints with the strength of the blow that finds him. Once, one of Bheema’s strokes lands squarely and Duryodhana staggers back and falls, like a sala tree in bloom uprooted by a tempest. Bheema waits for him to get up; and when he does, knocks him down again.
But when Duryodhana rises again, he begins to fight as he hasn’t done yet: as if he has been saving his strength. Now Bheema can’t match the Kaurava at all. Duryodhana seems to be in more places than one, at the same moment. His strokes land like gashes of lightning from every direction, easily passing Bheema’s defenses and crashing into his body. Twice, Bheema had fought Shalya. Both times they had been almost equal, perhaps Bheema slightly the superior for youth being with him. Duryodhana is an opponent of a different ilk; most of all, his speed is unearthly. Bheema staggers about, he roars in rage and pain. But he is increasingly helpless against his cold, quicksilver adversary; it will not be long before Duryodhana kills his cousin.
Arjuna asks Krishna, “Which of them is better, who deserves to win?”
Krishna smiles, “Both are great mace-fighters and they have the same guru. But surely, you can see Bheema is no match for Duryodhana. Your brother is stronger than your cousin; but in speed and skill Duryodhana has left him far behind. Thirteen years behind, Arjuna. It hardly matters how powerful Bheema’s blows are if Duryodhana dodges them as easily as he does.” Krishna sees fear in Arjuna’s eyes and sighs. “Yudhishtira has been foolish to allow the war to be decided by this battle. The beaten enemy, who comes back to battle, is the most dangerous one. If they fight fairly, Duryodhana will certainly win and Bheema will die.”
Just then, Duryodhana lands a stunning, exquisite blow. Krishna breathes, “Look at that! If there was not a kingdom at stake, I could spend days watching these two. Alas there is and Bheema must kill him if all the war is not to be in vain. I only wonder how he will do it.”
Krishna grows thoughtful. Duryodhana’s blows have begun to land frequently on Bheema, who totters like a wounded elephant, swaying on his feet, roaring again and again. Arjuna turns to Krishna in panic, “How can Bheema kill Duryodhana? You must help him.”
Again that impenetrable smile appears on the Dark One’s lips. He seems to be waiting for the right moment. Duryodhana lands two dreadful blows, felling Bheema again. Bheema shakes his head; he growls and begins to rise, when suddenly Krishna whispers to Arjuna, “If only Bheema would remember the oath he swore in Hastinapura.”
Arjuna looks perplexed. Krishna murmurs, “That he would break Bheema’s thigh.”
Bheema is rising groggily from the ground. He looks at Arjuna and Krishna in despair. For the first time in his life, the kshatriya who killed Baka and Hidimba finds his confidence shaken. He knows he will not last much longer against his cousin. Then he sees Arjuna slap his own thighs with his palms, meaningfully. On the brink of everything as Bheema is, he understands immediately.
Meanwhile, Yudhishtira is losing hope with each moment that passes. With every blow, Duryodhana seems more certain to kill Bheema. Yudhishtira’s face is a picture of misery. Sahadeva, Nakula, Satyaki and Dhrishtadyumna scarcely breathe. Covered in blood, Bheema can hardly move any more. He stands in one place, turning round and round, tiredly, his mace raised just in defense, ineffectually. Duryodhana circles him like a panther, toying with him, looking for a chance to finish him. The frantic Yudhishtira calls another break. The mace-fighters sink down to rest. Bheema’s eyes are glazed, while Duryodhana’s burn darkly. The Kaurava knows he will win this duel. At last, he will achieve his life’s fondest ambition: to kill his cousin!
Not to lose his advantage, Duryodhana is the first to rise. He calls tauntingly to Bheema to get up. Bheema does, with an effort and they begin again. In a moment, Duryodhana fetches Bheema a stroke that knocks him down on his back. Bheema shakes the fog that rises into his eyes and gets up again, heroically. With a roar, he aims a huge blow at Duryodhana’s chest. He is so tired Duryodhana allows him to begin his stroke, before he leaps nimbly into the air and above the arc of Bheema’s mace! Bheema stumbles forward with the impetus of his own swing. Landing supplely, Duryodhana catches his cousin with a smart half-blow across his back that sends him sprawling into the dust again. Now Bheema takes still longer to rise; when he does, he is unsteady on his feet.
Duryodhana closes for the kill. Bheema is good for perhaps one blow more; at most a couple and then he would die. Duryodhana prods Bheema with his mace-head, laughing in his face, goading him into some final rashness. The tired Pandava seems to take the bait. He lunges forward and aims another massive blow at Duryodhana’s chest. Once more, Duryodhana waits for him to begin his wild swing, then leaps high into the air to evade it. Bheema stops his stroke halfway. A startled look flashes into Duryodhana’s eyes. As the Kaurava comes down from the top of his spring, Bheema hurls his mace with a half-swing and every bit of his remaining strength. It crashes squarely into his cousin’s thighs, breaking them and smashing his manhood.
Duryodhana’s scream echoes under the hushed trees. Still screaming, he falls and lies wriggling like a serpent with a broken back. Like Surya’s sarathy, the legless Aruna, magnificent Duryodhana lies on holy ground and the sky erupts in a battery of thunder, peal after peal, which threatens to shake the earth loose from her orbit. Meteors streak down in their hundreds, while the cries of birds and beasts, yakshas, rakshasas and pisacahas echo all around
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. Bheema has felled Duryodhana with a most treacherous blow: in a gada-yuddha, it is forbidden to strike one’s opponent below his navel. It is a crime, a sin, adharma.
Just now, Bheema doesn’t care a whit for dharma. His tiredness vanished as if by magic, he leaps into the air, his eyes alight, roaring in joy. With his great body splattered with his own blood and Duryodhana’s, he seems hardly human as he runs up to the fallen Kaurava, kicks away his golden crown and plants a foot on his head. “Thirteen years ago you laughed at the oath I swore. I have kept my oath, Duryodhana! Do you remember how your brothers called me a cow? I have never forgotten that. I swore then that your head would lie under my foot some day and here it is. Feel my foot, cousin!”
He grinds Duryodhana’s head down, while the Kaurava whimpers for the agony in his shattered parts. Bheema raises his foot up and stamps Duryodhana’s face. He raises his foot again, but Yudhishtira rushes at him and drags him away, bloody-eyed still.
“Enough Bheema! You have kept your oath and that is enough. With that, all enmity ends. Duryodhana is your brother; he is a Kuru. He is a king, a lord of eleven aksauhinis. You demean yourself by setting your foot on his head. I will not allow you to humiliate a fallen king.”
Tears in his eyes, he goes and kneels beside Duryodhana. Gently he says, “Duryodhana, you will soon be in a place where there are now more of those we love than remain in this world. I envy you! The world you leave me to rule is so empty. The kali yuga is upon us and the earth has lost her glory. Go in peace, my brother. I salute you, O king of the earth!”
Though his chest heaves in mortal agony and sobs are torn helplessly from him, a light in Duryodhana’s eyes and the ghost of a smile on his lips show that he is grateful to the compassionate Yudh-ishtira.
But not everyone at Samantapanchaka celebrates Duryodhana’s fall. Balarama jumps up in a rage. His lips throbbing, his great body shaking, he roars, “Bheema, you coward! You have disgraced us all. You struck him below the waist. I will avenge Duryodhana, I will kill you myself!”
He seizes up his Halayudha, uncanny plough-weapon of a hundred fires and blades and rushes at Bheema who stands nonplussed. In a flash, Krishna seizes Balarama and restrains him powerfully. Only he can; and how beautiful they both look at that moment, one dark and his brother fair.
Krishna cries, “Stop! There is no crime in what Bheema did. It was for the bigger cause that he struck Duryodhana down. How does this one thing Bheema did move you to such anger that you want to kill him? You found no fault in everything Duryodhana made the Pandavas suffer. I did not see you rush to kill the Kaurava, when Draupadi was dragged into the Kuru sabha. This man bared his thigh and called the Pandavas’ wife to sit in his lap. His thigh should have been smashed that same day; but when Bheema sprang at Duryodhana, Yudhishtira stopped him. Which kshatriya can bear such an insult to his wife? That day, Bheema swore he would break Duryodhana’s thigh and today he has kept his oath. A warrior must keep his word at any cost. That is what Bheema has done.”
Balarama struggles against Krishna, but he cannot get free. “Balarama, you can’t bear this one injustice against Duryodhana, if it is even that. But you will forget all the sins of this evil one, all the provocation he has given the sons of Pandu, why, the very earth. You choose to take Bheema’s slight fault by itself, as if it were a worse crime than all Duryodhana’s crimes! Since this is how you feel, listen to what I have to say.” Krishna’s voice takes on an edge. “Even on the day Panchali was humiliated I could have killed Duryodhana and his brothers and set Yudhishtira on the Kuru throne. But I did not interfere. Why, until the last moment, I did my best to avert the war. When I could not, I did not bear any arms but only drove Arjuna’s horses.
You swore you would take no part in the war. You must keep your word. If you did not fight against evil, at least you must not fight for it. Let this sinner lie where he has fallen; it is not for you to avenge him. Your love for Duryodhana prevents you from seeing with clear eyes. The Pandavas are our cousins. They have suffered a great deal and they have every right to some happiness. You must not harm them.”
The threat to Bheema’s life is very real. Now, Balarama seems to calm down a little. He does not struggle to free himself from Krishna any more. But he still stands glowering at Bheema and Krishna continues, “The kali yuga has come to the world. Nowhere on earth shall pure dharma be found any more, but only mixed with adharma. The first nine days of the war were fought nobly. From the tenth day, the shadow of the kali fell over the battle. Day by day, the shadow grew and monstrous sins were committed on Kurukshetra. The fault is only time’s. Evil and violence are the signs of the kali. Destiny fulfils herself darkly in the fourth yuga and this is only its beginning.” Krishna’s eyes are shining, “I, for one, am convinced that the end justifies the means.”
But Balarama is not; he says, “Keep your sophistry, Krishna: nothing will persuade me that what Bheema did today was dharma. Duryodhana was as much a mace-fighter as I am and he has been killed treacherously. Let the world always speak of Bheema as a cheat and of Duryodhana as a ksha-triya. I am proud of my sishya Duryodhana and ashamed of Bheema. I say that Duryodhana has fulfilled the yagna of war that he undertook nobly. He will find Devaloka for himself and live there forever!”
Krishna smiles to hear his brother, but he is relieved that he has thought better of killing Bheema. When he is certain Balarama will not attack the Pandava, he releases him. Balarama goes up to Duryodhana and kneels beside him with a sob. He takes his pupil’s hand tenderly and bids him farewell. He cannot bear to watch his torment and mounts his chariot and rides away from Samantapanchaka, without even looking at the Pandavas. Yudhishtira has tears in his eyes and Bheema seems dazed.