Draupadi- the Tale of an Empress

by Saiswaroopa Iyer

  Satyajit and Dhrishtadyumna nodded. There was a time when they could reject Jarasandha’s overtures without worrying about the diplomatic damages. But not anymore. Draupadi could see their faces pale under the weight of the decision.

  ‘Wasn’t Jarasandha’s son-in-law unpopular among the citizens of Mathura?’ Draupadi asked. The news of Kansa’s death was too small in Panchala’s scheme of things. But Draupadi had enquired about the developments among Kuru neighbours and Kansa’s death was something significant there. It meant that the Kuru sway to the east of Ganga till the banks of Yamuna had increased. Now Jarasandha’s plan to attack Mathura would challenge the Kuru pride too.

  Draupadi felt that it was a boon in disguise. The situation required Drupada to put his desire for revenge aside and become friendly with them to take on Jarasandha. To her dismay, Drupada did not think the same.

  ‘Send for Acharya Upayaja. Let us convey to Jarasandha that they are free to pass through the Panchala lands a month past the harvest,’ Drupada smiled meaningfully—the same smile that curved his lips when he secured a diplomatic victory. Draupadi understood why. A month post harvest would mean that the armies of Magadha would land at the doors of their enemy post summer—something Jarasandha would not prefer. Monsoon was not a season suitable for a battle. A delay of an entire cycle of seasons meant a lot of uncertainty for Jarasandha.

  ‘If Jarasandha is shrewd enough, and he is,’ Drupada continued, ‘he will read more into our message and see the intent beyond the words.’

  Did this mean that Drupada was thinking of allying with Jarasandha in the future? Draupadi looked at her father in dismay. Even Dhrishtadyumna and Satyajit weren’t pleased. They had all grown up with the idea that Jarasandha represented everything that was wrong in the land of Bharata.

  Draupadi knew that Drupada would not consider allying with Magadha if he could find a way to exact his own revenge from the Kurus, and she, Draupadi, was standing in his way by not agreeing to marry into the Kuru family. She retired with mixed thoughts, to another sleepless night. She dearly wanted to stop her father from walking on this path of destruction. Hope was not something that graced her that night, but Draupadi’s determination was ready for a fight—with hopelessness, with destiny, with anything that could put a halt to this adharma.

  Six

  Rukmini

  Kashi

  The river breeze brushed her face. Draupadi gazed at the million lamps that swayed to the resonating rhythm of the hymns sung by the devotees and pilgrims on the banks of Ganga. The perennial river that cradled the civilization in the northern plains flowed through Panchala too. But the grandeur she acquired at the abode of Lord Vishvanatha was incomparable. The royal family’s visit to Kashi, however, Draupadi knew, had nothing to do with devotion. At eighteen springs, her understanding of the power struggle in northern Bharatavarsha was beyond her years.

  Drupada’s participation in the festivities of the Kartik month at Kashi spoke of his inclination towards Jarasandha who had called for this ostentatious festivity as an excuse to consolidate his power. The king of Kashi played the role of a mute host in the event. Draupadi saw her father and brothers immersed in the ritual aarti after their conference with the kings. The encampments erected for each royal family stood to her right, Panchala’s being one of the most luxurious ones. Unable to concentrate on what she felt was everything but a show of devotion, Draupadi walked on the decorated path around the encampments. The path was adorned with pots of flowers, and various fragrances greeted her.

  Something disturbed her about this visit to Kashi—the kings and their power games, all under the pretext of the holy festival of Kartik.

  ‘Is the god of gods also a mute spectator?’ Draupadi wondered to herself, almost aloud, unmindful of the guards of various royal retinues. Her attire and the shining Panchala medallion got her reverential bows and nods from everyone she encountered. The nods turned into frowns behind her as each of them wondered what a princess like Draupadi was doing without her personal guard, away from her encampment. But her decisive gait deterred them from approaching her.

  Lost in her troubled thoughts, in pursuit of a solution that did not seem to exist, Draupadi strode on—until a scream fell upon her ears. It was the scream of a woman. Draupadi instinctively walked towards the enormous tent, which belonged to one of the royal families.

  ‘Shame on you all! I am ashamed to be called your sister! You are no more than Jarasandha’s concubine!’

  Draupadi flinched as she heard a resounding slap, followed by another scream.

  Concerned, she darted towards the entrance of the tent. The woman she saw was of her age, struggling against the man’s grip on her hair. Draupadi’s fingers curled. The man saw her and let go of his sister. Draupadi witnessed a dramatic change in his demeanour.

  ‘Welcome, Your Highness,’ he beamed, signalling to one of the attendants to bring refreshments. ‘Welcome to the home of Vidarbha. A temporary home though,’ he chuckled at what he thought was a joke.

  Draupadi’s gaze was, however, on the maiden, the princess of Vidarbha who was fixing her hair without looking at her guest.

  Prince Rukma, as he introduced himself, turned to his sister. ‘We can expect esteemed guests anytime here, dear sister. You cannot afford to roam around with dishevelled hair like this,’ he grinned.

  Draupadi saw the princess of Vidarbha glare at her brother for a moment before acknowledging her arrival with a polite nod.

  ‘It must have been a long walk from your tent to here,’ Prince Rukma said, looking over Draupadi’s shoulder in search of her carriage.

  Draupadi smiled back and said nothing.

  ‘I shall escort you back, Your Highness,’ Rukma volunteered.

  Draupadi was about to reply when she saw the princess of Vidarbha frown and then turn to Rukma. ‘Brother Rukma, isn’t sister-in-law, the future queen of Vidarbha, waiting for you to join her for the evening worship?’

  Rukma’s smile faded at the mention of his wife. His sister responded with a measured smile and turned to Draupadi.

  ‘After the esteemed princess of Panchala is refreshed, I shall stand by our word and escort her in my chariot.’ The tinge of triumph in her tone was not lost on Draupadi.

  Strange dynamics between a brother and a sister!

  ‘I would hate to delay Your Highness when your better half awaits you,’ Draupadi bowed as Rukma left, making little effort to conceal his displeasure at being hustled out by the women.

  When the princess of Vidarbha excused herself after instructing the maid to fan the guest, Draupadi followed her to the inner section of the tent. A strange feeling of camaraderie drew her to the feisty princess of Vidarbha. Draupadi smiled, seeing her struggle with braiding her hair.

  Probably someone used to maids grooming her.

  Draupadi, proficient in braiding, stepped forward and took the bejewelled comb in her hands.

  ‘Your Highness!’

  ‘Call me Krishnaa,’ Draupadi grinned. None except Shikhandi called her by that name. She saw the princess of Vidarbha stare at her for a long moment.

  Like the name melted something in her.

  ‘I’m Rukmini,’ she sighed, her gaze turning warmer. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself, Krish…naa!’

  But Draupadi’s attention was on Rukmini’s hair. Well-oiled and braided hair dishevelled by a violent encounter. She knew that asking about it or about the welts on Rukmini’s cheek would be venturing into tricky waters—it would be interfering in family matters. But the pain that shot up in Rukmini’s eyes when her fingers brushed across her cheek was enough for Draupadi to speak out.

  ‘Why was your brother manhandling you that way, Rukmini?’

  Rukmini shook her head and let Draupadi braid her hair. Tears of fury dropped now and then from her eyes until a resolute calm took over her. It was only when they were alone in the chariot that Rukmini spoke up. ‘I protested, Krishnaa. I protested against a complete stranger deciding my fate, and p
lacing my hand in those of his protégé in marriage.’

  Draupadi listened, remembering what she had heard the preceding day—about Rukmini’s engagement to Shishupala, the prince of Chedi. The match had been made by Jarasandha of Magadha, the de facto emperor whose name caused awe or fear among every ruler of Bharata.

  And her own father, who had stood up to Jarasandha all these years, had accepted the latter’s invitation to this ‘festival’!

  Both of them moved towards the chariot outside.

  ‘Was your consent…?’ The rest of the question remained on Draupadi’s lips as she saw Rukmini shake her head and whip the horses into a canter. ‘How could they do that?’ A part of her marvelled at Rukmini’s hold on the horses. The frown on Rukmini’s forehead became more pronounced as she debated discussing her mind with Draupadi.

  ‘This is my battle. If I do not protest, I shall become a misplaced example of an “ideal daughter” by the sold-out bards who surround that monster Jarasandha! If they succeed in sealing my fate, more princesses of Bharata shall fall to his devious plans! He has to be stopped and it has to be now!’

  Jarasandha’s crafty strategies to dominate other rulers through marital alliances was not new to Draupadi. A generation of princes and noble maidens had given into his plans and indirectly ceded control to him. But a princess standing up to his plans was a first. Draupadi dearly wished she could help Rukmini somehow.

  ‘How long will you protest, Rukmini? And how far can you go?’

  Rukmini beamed, ‘I am not alone, Krishnaa.’

  Draupadi wished Rukmini would tell her more. But the princess of Vidarbha remained tight-lipped. When the camp of Panchala arrived, Rukmini politely refused Draupadi’s offer to return the hospitality. ‘Krishnaa, had my brother escorted you back in his chariot, in the view of everyone here, can you imagine what kind of statement it would have made?’

  Draupadi chuckled at Rukmini’s speculations. ‘My father and brothers are yet to come under Jarasandha’s influence and barter my hand this easily.’

  ‘King Drupada, I know, is far too principled,’ Rukmini’s gaze turned stern. ‘But do not underestimate the craftiness of the king of Magadha, Krishnaa.’

  Rukmini’s warnings could not be taken lightly. But Draupadi could not imagine Drupada giving into Jarasandha’s wishes when it came to her own marriage. Her father, who had patiently waited for her to agree to marry into the Kuru household, and was still waiting, would surely not seal her fate without her consent. She could not help feeling bad for Rukmini who seemed all alone in her fight. She affectionately patted Rukmini’s arm before alighting from the chariot. ‘If and when the need arises, remember you have a sister in Panchala.’

  Rukmini remembered her promise soon enough. Two days later, towards the end of the festivities, Draupadi found a desperate Rukmini at the shrine of Lord Vishvanatha.

  ‘The prince of Chedi wants to visit Vidarbha in the coming month of Magha!’ Rukmini whispered so that the maids could not overhear. ‘I don’t want to get stuck hosting him!’

  Draupadi thought fast. ‘Would you like to join me for a pilgrimage to the northern shrines of Lord Mahadeva? I am sure my father’s scribes know how to compose a compelling invitation which your father and brothers won’t be able to deny.’

  Rukmini’s eyes shone with gratitude.

  Seven

  Krishna, the Friend

  Panchala

  Draupadi stayed back after the court was dismissed. Drupada’s stern brows did not deter her from broaching the topic he had forbidden her from talking about. Drupada was not in one of his best moods and knew of her persistence—a quality he was sure she had inherited from him. But pride was not the emotion Drupada felt for her today. ‘I already told you to leave the diplomatic affairs to me, Krishnaa. Very unlike you to meddle into things that don’t concern you!’

  The lines on his forehead did little to shake her resolve. ‘How can an unfair conquest not concern me when my father stands to be a part of the wrong side, My King?’

  ‘If you consider yourself a better judge of fairness than me…’ Drupada shrugged, his eyes narrowing in contempt.

  ‘I learnt to separate the fair from the unfair from you, Father. How did we part ways so much that now we support opposing sides?’

  Drupada was capable of being angry with anyone until his death, but when it concerned his daughter, that emotion was an unreliable partner. The mix of earnestness, faith, and persistence in her tone was far too endearing. ‘There are no sides here, My Princess,’ he assured Draupadi, brushing her hair when she knelt before him. ‘It is just about a powerful neighbour, like Jarasandha, wanting a free pass through Panchala to attack a petty province, Mathura, where his son-in-law was murdered. It is about letting a father avenge his widowed daughters.’

  ‘Rukmini of Vidarbha tells me that Jarasandha’s son-in-law resorted to all sorts of heinous acts, including killing defenceless infants!’ Draupadi looked straight into his eyes.

  Drupada sighed, ‘Brutal as it might seem, little one, we cannot afford to investigate everyone’s crimes. It is Panchala’s safety that is paramount when decisions like this are concerned.’

  ‘How long can Panchala remain safe if it lets smaller provinces fall prey to the likes of Jarasandha, Father?’

  ‘It is a tricky decision as far as ethics is concerned, I admit, Draupadi,’ Drupada leaned back against the ornate backrest of his throne. ‘But with a reduced army, post our ceding Ahichatra to that wily Drona… I have to explore alternatives.’

  ‘Jarasandha can’t be your alternative, Father!’ Draupadi rose and sat on the hand rest of the throne, on the king’s right.

  Drupada smiled sadly, a wave of nostalgia overcoming him. ‘Idealism, Draupadi, is a luxury you can afford as long as you sit here, on the right of the throne, the rightful place for the children of a king. Come to my place, on the throne, little one. The bitter realities render that luxury unaffordable. Besides, I waited for you to consider turning our fortunes for two years. You aren’t ready to become the daughter-in-law of the Kurus. The alternative I am left with is Jarasandha’s grandson.’

  Draupadi stared at him; she recognized the streaks of helplessness in his tone. Drupada’s final statement had left her mouth dry.

  Jarasandha’s grandson!

  The shock left her rooted to the spot even after Drupada left the throne room.

  Restlessness engulfed Draupadi that night. She could not even spend a cordial evening with Princess Rukmini whose visit to Panchala was ending. It did not help when she found out that Rukmini had in fact eavesdropped on her conversation with her father. Even though the princess of Vidarbha apologized, Draupadi was far from feeling at ease. The political turmoil, Drupada’s thoughtless reactions, and the undesirable consequences that would ensue, made her toss at night. Realizing her helplessness, Draupadi could only pray for a solution to manifest itself. It irritated her—the sheer lack of control over events. With sleep evading her that night, Draupadi sensed the movement when Rukmini slipped out noiselessly. Partly annoyed and partly curious, she leapt out of the bed and followed her guest into the garden. Rukmini headed out to one of the streets behind the palace garden. Her footsteps seemed to grow frantic with each moment. Draupadi continued shadowing Rukmini and saw the latter come to an abrupt halt by the unguarded gates. She was about to raise an alarm, on finding the guard absent, but stopped when she saw Rukmini throw her arms around a man. A stranger. A stranger who had managed to hoodwink the security ring of Panchala and enter the palace garden. A stranger who, despite breaking into her garden, did not rouse her defences. Curiosity overcame any remnant of concern and Draupadi sneaked closer to the couple, keeping herself hidden in the shadows.

  ‘Forgive me, Krishna!’ Rukmini’s voice was frantic. ‘The king of Panchala does not want to block Jarasandha from attacking Mathura.’

  ‘Shh… Don’t blame yourself. You’ve already risked a lot.’

  The voice made Draupadi want to pe
er out of the shadows and catch a glimpse of Rukmini’s lover.

  ‘Enough of all this. I shall come with you right away,’ Rukmini sounded determined.

  ‘Not like this, love.’

  ‘Listen to me,’ Rukmini insisted. ‘If you take me with you, you can threaten my brother, and even Jarasandha might hesitate before he attacks your city.’

  The response was an amused laughter. Draupadi could not see them clearly but she felt Rukmini’s vehemence rise.

  ‘Rukmini, by eloping from Panchala, we shall only be creating newer animosities, dragging Drupada’s family into this political vortex. He has suffered enough. We can’t add to their troubles now.’

  ‘Why would you worry about them when they don’t care about you?’

  Draupadi found herself waiting for the answer as much as Rukmini. Moments seemed to grow longer with his silence. She could not comprehend why she felt that the response would bear any significance. But it came.

  ‘Our mind cares for our limbs. But our limbs don’t care for the mind. Do they, Rukmini?’

  Draupadi could not help but come out of the shadows. Rukmini did not see her, but she felt that the uninvited guest surely did. However, for some reason, he showed no signs of retreating. In fact, for a moment, she felt small for hiding and eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Rukmini remained quiet until restlessness overcame her. “So…you wish that I go back to Vidarbha. Even though…there are risks.’

  His voice turned tender. ‘I disappoint you, princess of Vidarbha. Don’t I?’

  In the dim moonlight, blurred by the clouds, Draupadi could see Rukmini shaking her head.

  ‘You make me stronger, Krishna. I know the risks that follow my return to Vidarbha will affect you as much as they affect me.’