Perform Rajasuya to unite the land as the empire of dharma.
Seventeen
Rajasuya
The lamps were lit, and the floral decoration was tailored to his taste. He had just returned to Indraprastha after Bhima had successfully eliminated Jarasandha. But a strange melancholy filled Arjuna’s heart at the sight of the woman who had entered the household because of him. For whom he had to wait for four long years before his turn had finally come. Arjuna tried to drive the untimely gloom away, attempting to focus on the musical notes Draupadi played on her veena. But his mind kept asking the same nagging question.
Would this come to be?
Draupadi brought her rendition to an abrupt stop when she felt his hand upon hers. Her kohl-smeared eyes opened wide. ‘Did the rhythm go wrong?’ Finding him stare at her with no response, Draupadi’s face fell.
‘Rhythm eludes me whenever I change the pace!’ she rued, her frustration showing.
Arjuna felt compelled to smile. ‘Like you elude me whenever I dare to think you are mine.’
Hurt surfaced in her eyes though Draupadi tried to remain unaffected. Her marital life had begun with her garlanding Arjuna, going against almost every soul present in her swayamvara. But Kunti’s bizarre demand had made her Yudhishtira’s wife first. Arjuna had to wait for two long years for his time with her—something fate cruelly doubled, when he ran into her and Yudhishtira in an inappropriate moment. His stipulated year-long pilgrimage after that had ended with him marrying Subhadra. To be fair to Subhadra, Draupadi had insisted that they start their marital life together right then, and had chosen to spend the year designated for him with Nakula, and the following year with Sahadeva.
Now that the moment had finally come, Draupadi noticed that Arjuna was still lost in the misery hidden deep in the crevices of his heart. Steeling herself, she thought of ways to lighten his mind. ‘Destiny delays somethings so that more can happen in the wake, Arjuna. A river joins the sea in its natural course. But when humankind delays its union by digging canals and building dams, the sea and the river pine for each other, only to realize that the wait was worth it, when they see the lush land and flourishing civilization that benefitted because of the wait. Isn’t the wait worth it, Arjuna?’
Arjuna sighed, helping her keep the veena away. ‘Do namesakes also come up with similar metaphors? Krishna told me exactly this when I poured my heart to him.’
‘Did he?’ Draupadi paused while pouring wine into two silver goblets.
Arjuna nodded, ‘Krishna knows a side of me that none of my brothers, or even you, know. I dread to even remember what I felt then, Draupadi. You’d hate me if you ever came to know.’
‘We all have darkness within, son of Kunti. It raises its hood when misery strikes. But wisdom lies in overcoming it with our stronger side.’
‘Or as our friend in Dwaraka would say, own the “misery” and the factors causing it enough to celebrate the joy it gives another.’ Draupadi was about to add her own bit to the philosophical discourse, but she stopped. ‘Wait, don’t tell me you too have this habit of thinking what Krishna would do or say at every nook and corner of life!’
‘Guilty,’ Arjuna nodded sheepishly. ‘You do the same? By Mahadeva, we are doomed!’
‘Own the doom and the one causing it!’ Draupadi said aloud, emptying the wine down her throat, and laughed. He joined her. Before long, they were teasing each other like long-lost friends, childhood sweethearts, and a couple that had seen decades of life together. It continued until the last of the lamps blew out, and Arjuna, in a moment of passion, pulled her into a tight embrace. An embrace which neither felt strange nor new. A proximity which seemed to extend through many lives.
Women were not new to Arjuna. The seductive naga woman, Uloopi, who had gone to extreme lengths to please him just for a night’s company, the coy but firmly grounded Chirtrangada of Manipur, Subhadra with her childlike adoration and spellbinding wisdom—he had experienced the company of many astounding women. But Draupadi still made him yearn for her. Her very entry into their lives had turned the fortunes of the sons of Pandu and Arjuna allowed himself the feeling of pride in knowing that he had played a key role in winning her hand. In the depths of his heart, she uniquely belonged to him. He was sure that he commanded a similar place in her heart too. Whether their conversation was on love, stately affairs, war strategies, or philosophy, he found his match in her.
Only in her.
An exciting phase had started while he stood on the threshold of the impending military campaign for Rajasuya, with his wife—Draupadi.
The city seemed to have grown multiple times in size in the last couple of years. The city of Indraprastha. She remembered the day the city doors had been formally opened to the villagers, nagas, travellers, and other migrants from neighbouring provinces who had chosen to pursue their fortunes with the Pandavas. Draupadi’s spirits soared seeing the hustle-bustle in the city from her balcony. Their own mansion had been transformed from a humble summer palace on a hillock to a grand complex of buildings. With the Rajasuya campaign gaining speed, more and more people sought luck, fortune, and refuge in the new and promising city. Now, Draupadi could not even see the ends of the city from her high mansion.
Military campaigns in all the four directions, each led by one of the four brothers of Yudhishtira, had resulted in this expansion. Arjuna, in his northern campaign, had brought under his sway the regions of Matsya, northern Kuru, Kimpurusha, Darada, Anga, Vanga, Pragjyotisha, and so on, while Sahadeva had overcome resistance from Avanthi, Mahishmati, Nishada and Kishkindha among others, and had also secured the friendship of Lanka in the far south. Nakula’s share was the western expanse of Bharatavarsha, a mix of allies and subjugated vassals that included Kekayas, Madras, and Yadavas of Saurashtra, Trigartas and Yavanas. Bhima, having gone east, was expected to return any time, with victories scored against regions including Magadha, Kalinga, Dasarna, Vatsa, Chedi and Malla.
The sudden chatter of six hyperactive children startled Draupadi out of her reverie. Subhadra’s indignant voice followed them. Draupadi could not help but smile at her plight. The children were a handful even with the slew of attendants around them.
‘Believe me, Elder Sister! Being a queen is easier. Being a mother is the hardest part of our lives,’ she halted in her steps, trying to stop little Abhimanyu from pulling at the toy cart that Shrutakirti held with all his might. ‘Not queen! With brother Bhima’s return, which is bound to happen soon, you will be the empress, samragni of the whole of Bharatavarsha!’
The younger woman’s enthusiasm was contagious enough for Draupadi to grin indulgently. The grin faded as soon as she saw Sutasoma crush a new toy to pieces.
Like father, like son!
Chiding the child, she sat upon the carved stone couch covered with silk and cushions, motioning Subhadra to sit next to her. ‘How are we going to bear the responsibility of this land, Subhadra? The sheer amount of trust placed upon us is overwhelming. If we ever let them down…’
‘You will learn and figure it out soon, Elder Sister,’ Subhadra assured her. ‘And I shall learn from you, being the one who can afford the luxury of being in the shadows!’ she teased. If there was something Draupadi loved immensely about Subhadra, it was the younger woman’s unique manner of speaking the truth with the bubbling enthusiasm of a child. They had indeed come a long way together.
The footsteps approaching the chamber were hurried, making Draupadi turn around. ‘Sahadeva?’
‘Brother Bhima will return soon now, Draupadi,’ he turned and nodded at Subhadra before two of the children scampered towards him.
‘The military campaign for Rajasuya has been concluded indeed!’ Draupadi exclaimed. The pressure of planning each campaign while remaining abreast of administrative activities of the growing city, along with supporting Yudhishtira, had taken a toll on her sleep in all these years. It was hard to believe that it was finally concluded. She saw Sahadeva’s beaming face.
‘It has indeed been concluded, Samragni!’
Poornahuti, the final offering to the gods, was performed. Draupadi held Yudhishtira’s hand till the last of the offering of grains, precious stones, gold, and other homadravyas, were dropped into the all-consuming fire. In a surreal chain of events that followed, she found herself seated on the high throne, not just of Indraprastha, but of the whole of Bharata—the entire land united by one code of arya dharma. At that instant, her eyes swept the expanse of the sabha assembled for the purpose, searching for the one with whom she had actually dreamt of this. Her smile widened, remaining that way, till Yudhishtira gently patted her arm.
Dhaumya, the family priest of the Pandu household had signalled that it was time for the agra puja—the customary ritual of honouring a guru, a mentor or an ancestor that the yajamana—the host of the yajna—would perform in gratitude. Draupadi saw many pairs of eyes look at Bhishma, the unmarried patriarch of the Kuru family and the grand-uncle of the sons of both Pandu and Dhritarashtra. She recollected that all the five brothers had remembered him multiple times with great fondness over the last few years. As the princess of Panchala, she had formed a different opinion of the grand old man. She could respect the affection that her husbands had for Bhishma, but honouring him with agra puja seemed a bit too much. She saw Sahadeva requesting Yudhishtira’s attention.
‘Samrat,’ Sahadeva started, briefly turning around to gain the attention of the other guests. ‘It is a challenging task for us to choose one benefactor to confer upon him the honour of the agra puja. Among the distinguished guests, we have revered elders, some of who were responsible for saving our lives, guiding us through various intrigues and trusting our prowess when we had nothing else to prove.’ His eyes briefly landed upon Bhishma, Bhagavan Veda Vyasa—the rishi whom the world revered and the biological father of Dhritarashtra and Pandu—Guru Drona, and Guru Kripa, the noble Vidura who had played a key role in saving the Pandavas from the fire, and finally, upon Drupada. ‘However,’ he turned back to face Yudhishtira, ‘as much as we owe our utmost reverence to these venerable elders, we have amongst us, a person who stood by us, extending his invaluable insights while we embarked upon this daunting campaign of Rajasuya. It is not an exaggeration to say that this ambitious campaign of Rajasuya would have failed without his constant inspiration.’
Yudhishtira briefly glanced at Draupadi. Given the poise he had to assume for the occasion, he could not show more delight at the suggestion than what his eyes permitted. Draupadi could sense his joy when Sahadeva uttered the name.
‘I propose, to you and this distinguished sabha, that Krishna Vasudeva be honoured with agra puja.’
Bhishma rose to his feet and walked up to Sahadeva, his majestic gait boasting of the vigour of men decades younger than him. Beaming widely, he patted Sahadeva and lauded the decision. Immediately after his applause, a loud cheer erupted among the Yadavas, followed by others who dearly loved Krishna. Joyful numbness took over Draupadi’s limbs. Having just been crowned the empress of Bharata, she was yet to get used to the new position, but deep in her heart, she was Krishna’s dearest sakhi, celebrating the honour of her friend. Dhaumya uttered Krishna’s name along with other epithets, inviting him to grace the throne for the ritual.
Yudhishtira and Draupadi rose to assume their roles in the puja. However, Krishna’s characteristic smile was absent. She concluded that it was out of surprise and grinned at him, taking the golden jar that contained water from the seven holy rivers.
The ritual continued for a while; each of the Pandavas and Draupadi were occupied in their own tasks. None of them saw a guest burn with rage at the decision. They missed seeing his friends restraining him from saying anything aloud. The chants gradually died down as the dissenting guest finally managed to make his presence felt—with a loud and obnoxious laughter.
Draupadi saw him, recognizing him as Shishupala, the king of Chedi! The groom who had initially been chosen for Princess Rukmini before she had broken out of the forceful engagement and eloped with Krishna.
She heard him call Yudhishtira an irreverent host who had insulted the venerable elders by offering the agra puja to someone as ‘lowly’ as Krishna.
Then, things deteriorated. She saw Nakula attempt to pacify Shishupala and restrain him from saying anything more. But to everyone’s agony, it only infuriated the king of Chedi more. Bhima and Arjuna began to lose their temper. Arjuna warned Shishupala to respect the decorum of the grand hall where kings, princes and warlords from all corners of Bharata were present.
But Shishupala kept hurling insults, now at Krishna himself. A part of Draupadi wanted to grab one of the lamps placed on either side of the stairs leading to the high throne and smash Shishupala’s head. The only thing that bothered her more than his uncouth behaviour, was Krishna’s silence.
One word, Krishna. One word, and this abomination will be shown his place.
Yudhishtira, she knew, was not in a position to speak his heart out, being the host, though Bhima was compensating for his elder brother’s silence.
When the situation showed no sign of returning to normalcy, Bhishma tried to intervene and advised Shishupala to respect the host. Shishupala further shocked everyone by abusing Bhishma.
‘Enough, son of Damaghosha and Shrutashrava!’ the thundering voice was Krishna’s. No one had ever seen this form of Krishna before. The boyish smile, the placid forehead and the unaffected eyes were no longer there. This Krishna looked like the god of death—the personification of rage—Rudra—demanding the destruction of the world. The guests, rishis, and the elders present in the sabha who were aware of Krishna’s ever-pleasant demeanour were too shocked to react. The only person who dared to defy him was the foolish Shishupala whose past atrocities Krishna recounted to the whole sabha. Knowing about Shishupala’s actions in the past, one of which included molesting the wife of a Yadava noble during her pilgrimage, Draupadi wondered why he had been invited to Indraprastha for the august finale of Rajasuya in the first place. It was then that she remembered that Shishupala’s mother, Shrutashrava, and Kunti, the mother of Pandavas, were biological sisters. Kunti had been adopted by King Bhoja of Kunti kingdom later.
What an embarrassment of a cousin Shishupala was turning out to be!
The whizzing sound of the dazzling Sudarshana Chakra, a weapon that Krishna used in the rarest of occasions, brought her back to the sabha. Before anyone could react, Shishupala’s head lay on the ground, away from its body. She stared at Krishna who stood rooted to the spot, still the embodiment of destruction. Having recollected the various atrocities that Shishupala had committed against the Yadavas in the past, the anger in Krishna’s eyes was so intense that some of the rishis present started to pacify him, reminding him of his affectionate and protective side.
Yudhishtira looked like he had been struck by lightning. After a signal from Rishi Dhaumya, she inched closer to him. ‘Samrat,’ she squeezed Yudhishtira’s arm, prompting him to conclude the ritual. He was displeased with the killing; she could sense that. But he loved Krishna too much to say anything, especially when Krishna was the recipient of the agra puja. But Yudhishtira looked like someone who had lost everything.
Not at all like the emperor he was.
Eighteen
Krishna’s Farewell
It was late that night when Draupadi could retire to her bed, and when she finally did, not much time was left for the sun to rise. The daybreak started on a fatiguing note, given the way the Rajasuya had ended.
Empress of Bharata!
It still seemed surreal. She fondly remembered each of her husbands who had put in years of incessant hard work, even in trying times. She remembered and inwardly thanked the countless people, labourers, seers, soldiers, and merchants who had laboured with them to make this happen. If only Yudhishtira had managed to find some time to share this moment of realization with her. Even as an emperor, he laboured like an ordinary citizen. Disinterested in catching any sleep, Draupadi stared at the easter
n sky, waiting for the rising red ball.
‘Who can sleep when their dream is becoming a reality?’
Draupadi turned around, staring into the eyes that had dreamt of this along with her. Holding his arm, she led him back to the window, and they remained silent for a while. But the time came when he had to break the joyous silence of togetherness.
‘Grant me leave, Samragni.’
Draupadi’s eyes widened. ‘So soon?’ she mouthed and realized how selfish she had been to keep him away from his home all this while. But the instant pang of separation had managed to break through her eyes and blur her vision.
‘Sakhi!’
She blinked the tears away, tightening her grip on his arm. ‘It won’t be the same without you, Krishna.’
‘Where will I go, Draupadi? Wherever I go, I shall remain in the land under my Sakhi’s rule.’
‘I can “summon” you back any time, Vasudeva,’ she smiled, assuming an air of mock authority. Softening as soon as she saw his tender smile, she whispered, ‘My days as the queen of a principality flew by! And I am suddenly an empress with no prior experience of ruling vast empires.’
Krishna nodded and arched a single brow. ‘To offer a conventional line of wisdom that is easier said than done, think of yourself not as the wife of an emperor, but as the mother of those who live on this land. Not as a wife, but as a mother.’
The glint of humour disappeared in his eyes when he uttered the last sentence. Looking at each other for a long time, letting the unexpressed words speak, they tore their gazes away from each other.
‘Where are Rukmini and others?’ she suddenly asked, springing into action. She owed them all a befitting farewell.
‘Taking leave from other family members. They will be at your door soon,’ Krishna replied, picking up a fruit that lay on the golden plate beside her bed. ‘A whole day without food does make you hungry!’ he said, seizing a knife to cut the fruit.
Draupadi- the Tale of an Empress Page 10
