Draupadi- the Tale of an Empress

by Saiswaroopa Iyer

  Draupadi had hardly realized that, like her, he, too, had gone hungry the whole night when she saw blood spurting out of his finger.

  ‘By Mahadeva!’ she gasped, tearing the softer edge of her upper garment to tie around the fresh wound.

  ‘By Mahadeva, indeed! That was the garment in which you offered the Poornahuti in the yajna yesterday!’

  Relieved when his bleeding stopped, Draupadi gradually settled down to face the day. ‘You’ve been around at Indraprastha too long, Krishna. Now you must spend time with your wives so that they do not curse me for snatching their husband away!’ she tried to laugh, but it was hard to swallow the emotions that churned in her.

  Rukmini and the other wives of Krishna came to meet Draupadi, and in her usual lively manner, Draupadi took all the care to extend them a warm farewell along with the Pandavas, who were equally emotional at the impending separation from the one without whom they could not imagine a life.

  But the time did come when the chariot, bearing the eagle flag, sped away from the ramparts of Indraprastha, taking a part of their lives with it.

  Bidding farewell to the rest of the guests took up a large chunk of the day. Draupadi had not even had her meal. Not that she could not steal the time, but Krishna’s departure had not left her with much appetite. Bhima, who would have been the first to coax her to eat, was caught up at the far end of the city, supervising the induction of new recruits to their imperial army. Yudhishtira, the new emperor, seemed to have skipped his meal as well, deep in discussion with the rishis who had graced the Rajasuya. Draupadi had decided to join him when a guard hurried in.

  ‘Crown Prince of the Kurus, Duryodhana, seeks your audience, Samragni.’

  Draupadi had been expecting Duryodhana, for the cousin of her husbands had been entrusted with accounting the tributes brought in by the allegiant kings. She had hoped to take over the treasury the following day. But sensing that the prince of Hastinapura might be in a hurry to leave, she bade the guard to usher him in.

  Duryodhana. She had first seen him as a prisoner of her father, years ago, when he and his brothers had committed the folly of attacking Panchala. He had not seen her then, but she remembered the sullen adolescent pushing and kicking against the heavily built Panchala guards as they had held him. Draupadi bit her lip at the memory. She had also seen him at her own swayamvara. Handsome and promising, yet failing to deliver. It was later that she had learnt about his various plans to assassinate the sons of Pandu, including the fire at Varnavata.

  Still, Yudhishtira had chosen to trust him with accounting the tributes. It was a decision that had been unanimously opposed by Bhima and Arjuna. But Yudhishtira strongly felt that trusting Duryodhana could mark a new beginning.

  Draupadi had Duryodhana seated in the spacious quadrangle that extended in front of her mansion, overlooking the garden, with small lotus ponds and bushes of seasonal blossoms alternating along the path.

  ‘Here are the accounts of what came from each of the vassal kings, princess of…pardon me, Samragni.’

  Draupadi beamed at his abrupt change of address. ‘You can call me sister-in-law, Duryodhana. You have been of immense help. I really can’t thank you enough.’ The nod of acknowledgement, Draupadi thought, came with a bout of hesitation. At that moment, she regretted dropping the formal protocol.

  ‘Would you like me to accompany you to the imperial vaults and check on the treasures before you confirm everything, Sister-in-law?’

  It presented a diplomatic challenge. The age-old convention regarding the accounting of wealth stated that even one’s own shadow was not fit to be trusted when it came to matters of wealth. But choosing to verify the accounts would amount to showing mistrust, contrary to Yudhishtira’s expectations. Thinking quickly on her feet, Draupadi chose not to sow the seeds of mistrust.

  ‘Verifying the treasury after your meticulous accounting would amount to mocking the choice of the samrat, Yuvraj!’ she smiled, bidding the royal treasurer to leave. The attendants brought refreshments and Draupadi asked about the well-being of the elders in Hastinapura who could not grace the occasion.

  But before long, she sensed tension on Duryodhana’s face.

  Like something bothered him greatly.

  She was almost startled when Duryodhana slammed the goblet of drink on the parapet wall beside him.

  ‘Pardon me, Samragni. I will take your leave now.’ Without waiting for her reaction, he hurried down the flight of stairs leading to the garden.

  ‘Wait, Yuvaraj!’ Draupadi called out, partly annoyed, partly surprised. Composing herself, she descended the stairs. ‘I hope you are going to meet the emperor before you leave.’

  ‘No, Samragni,’ Duryodhana shook his head. ‘Affairs await me at Hastinapura. Apologize to the Eldest on my behalf,’ he said and walked away.

  ‘Watch out!’ Draupadi exclaimed. But it was too late.

  The eldest son of King Dhritarashtra found himself waist-deep in one of the lotus ponds. The splash of water startled the gardener nearby who was attending to the adjoining row of blooming bushes. The shocked gardener tripped over the spade lying by his feet. His fall caused the female attendants to break into giggles.

  Duryodhana looked up, annoyed. He saw Draupadi call the guards to help him out of the pond. The attendants were still giggling over the fallen gardener. Draupadi frowned at them, bidding them to bring dry clothes for Duryodhana. But the Kuru prince‘s temper was at its end. He pushed the guard who held him. That reminded Draupadi of the sullen Duryodhana of olden days. A chuckle escaped her lips. ‘It seems that you will now have to stay!’ she bid the guards to usher him back to the guest house.

  The attendants were still caught in a helpless fit of giggles.

  ‘Enough!’ Draupadi snapped.

  Duryodhana turned and hurried towards the guest house. None of them caught the change in his expression.

  Nineteen

  Yudhishtira’s Fear

  Agale blew through the windows, upsetting a couple of huge bronze lamps. Draupadi woke up, startled, realizing that she had dozed off while waiting for Yudhishtira to retire. It seemed like a few hours of the night had passed. The maids rushed in to secure the windows and light the lamps again. Draupadi rose in a hurry to secure the door that opened into the lavish balcony, overlooking the western expanse of the city. The familiar figure standing in solitude surprised her.

  ‘Samrat! When did you arrive? Why did you not wake me up?’

  Yudhishtira did not move until she bade the maids to leave and shook his arm gently. Distress loomed large in his eyes. He let her lead him to their bed. He saw her trying to fix her long hair, disrupted by the gale, and smiled through his melancholy.

  ‘What ails the emperor of the land, My Lord?’ she beamed when he caught her hair in a futile attempt to braid it.

  Yudhishtira shook his head. It seemed insensitive to not share what he felt with her—his distress at the killing of Shishupala, his sorrow at the omens and warnings by the rishis.

  It is only the beginning of a violent phase, you being the innocent cause.

  The whole idea of Rajasuya seemed like a huge mistake. He knew that Draupadi did not take such predictions seriously. Perhaps her lighthearted remarks would set his mind at ease. But there was something in her mirth that he hated to disturb. ‘I know what can put my emperor at ease!’ Draupadi chirped, pointing at the game of chausar. Playing the game was the last thing he wanted, but he could not refuse when she tugged at his arm, determined to shake him out of his self-imposed melancholy. He felt a strange rebellion in his limbs when he took the dice in his hands and cast them.

  Draupadi threw up her head in mock despair. ‘Why doesn’t this game like me at all?’

  ‘The dice know that what belongs to me, belongs to you as well, Samragni!’ Yudhishtira quipped. The dice always made him win. Every single time. Even against his own wishes.

  ‘I don’t seek a false victory,’ she shook her head. ‘Let us play another game. I jus
t can’t keep losing.’ But the victories continued for Yudhishtira. ‘There goes the last of my jewellery.’ He could not help grinning at her dramatic show of despair at every loss.

  All to keep him distracted from whatever she thought was worrying him.

  He saw her pause amidst her struggle to unhook the ornate waistband and look at him. Helping her with the jewel, his heart leapt when her shapely waist showed, the flawless dusky skin a proud contrast against the yellow silk. Desire drove him to hold her by her waist. The sight of her gasping in anticipation made him pull her closer into his arms. He saw her eyes assume a mischievous glint when she withdrew abruptly. And he knew what would follow. Not letting her go away from him, he grabbed at her lower garment and pulled at the loose knot. The night claimed their bout of passion. Yudhishtira lost all track of time, until the bell, announcing the last quarter of the night, rang. He saw her smile through her half-asleep eyes and roll towards the other edge of the bed. Her loosened braid slid from his hands and moved towards the ground below when she turned the other way.

  ‘Draupadi!’ he hurried to her side of the bed, catching her tresses before the ends touched the ground. Draupadi woke up to see him stroke her hair and gently place her braid across her half-covered breasts.

  ‘Never let them touch the ground, love,’ he sighed, inhaling the fragrance of the herbs offered in the Rajasuya in her hair.

  Draupadi encircled his neck with her arms. ‘What had burdened you, Yudhishtira? I have a right to know.’

  ‘Everything,’ he said after a long moment of silence. ‘The moments of this emperorship, the grandeur of the Rajasuya, everything threatens to claim its price. And I fear I might not be able to afford it!’

  Abstract fears were not something that ever made sense to Draupadi. But Yudhishtira’s concerns could not be taken lightly. ‘Rajasuya did claim a lot, Samrat. I am aware of the debt we owe to the traders who financed the campaign. But as far as the accounts of the treasury show, we should be able to pay them off any moment now. In fact, let us arrange for a befitting ceremony to felicitate those who supported us at the soonest.’

  Yudhishtira nodded, ‘We cannot afford a war now. Even if we are attacked by anyone.’

  ‘Attacked by who?’ Draupadi frowned. ‘Not that our neighbours, your cousins, dote on you. But even Hastinapura in its present state will not think of war, Samrat. In other directions, we are surrounded by our allies.’ Yudhishtira breathed easy. A war with anyone seemed like a distant possibility and he knew it. Just hearing it from Draupadi seemed to ease his heart. ‘Perhaps, it is just Shishupala’s death,’ he sighed.

  ‘I knew it,’ Draupadi’s voice betrayed annoyance. ‘You aren’t very pleased with Krishna killing him. But who would tolerate that king of Chedi, Samrat?’

  ‘Krishna is as dear to me as he is to you, Samragni,’ Yudhishtira said. ‘And his enemies are ours too!’ Pain resurfaced in his eyes. ‘But he made newer enemies by killing Shishupala. God forbid, if one of them attacks Dwaraka, it will be too late even to reach out and assist him.’

  ‘It is tricky to interpret his moves, Yudhishtira,’ Draupadi relaxed, pulling the soft rugs over her. ‘I can’t boast of understanding him fully. But thoughtlessness is definitely not his trait, Yudhi. But perhaps you are right. We would have been in a much better position to shield him if he had stayed a bit longer at Indraprastha.’ It was her turn to worry for Krishna’s safety.

  The fatigue of the day finally claimed Yudhishtira, but something kept Draupadi up. Some unknown fear.

  Part Three

  The Empress

  Twenty

  The Game of Dice

  ‘Attack on Dwaraka?’ Draupadi and Yudhishtira exclaimed in unison.

  The messenger nodded. ‘Lord Vasudeva and his brother were away at Prabhasa, Samragni. Dantabaktra, who was posing as a regular pilgrim, attacked them there. It was a close fight, but Krishna managed to kill him. Before they could even recover, Dwaraka was caught unawares when the king of Salva launched a surprise attack.’

  ‘Did Krishna and Balarama reach on time? What about the women of Dwaraka?’ Yudhishtira asked.

  The messenger had no clue about the safety of women at Dwaraka. But he knew his master well. ‘I am sure there are contingencies, Samrat,’ he assured a concerned Yudhishtira.

  After the messenger left, neither Draupadi nor Yudhishtira spoke for a long time. The throne they sat on seemed like a burden before their helplessness.

  ‘Samrat, we must do something,’ she knew Yudhishtira’s mind was already planning. ‘Salva and Sindhu are allies. The king of Sindhu, Jayadrata, is married to our Dusshala, the daughter of Uncle Dhritarashtra.’

  ‘Are you thinking of influencing Jayadrata to convince Salva to back off?’ Draupadi exclaimed.

  ‘Extending military help is the least we can do, Samragni,’ Yudhishtira said. ‘But the help will take months before they reach Dwaraka. Additionally, if Uncle Dhritarashtra can send one of his messengers from Hastinapura on the fastest horse with a convincing message to back off, it might work to our advantage.’

  A multipronged effort was necessary. If Bhima or Arjuna came to know of this, Draupadi was sure they would rush to Dwaraka. She herself was dying to know about Krishna’s safety.

  Can’t you keep yourself out of trouble, Sakha?

  Yudhishtira summoned all his brothers to his private council room and was about to send for a messenger when the guard interrupted him. There was a visitor from Hastinapura. Uncle Vidura!

  ‘I shall talk to Uncle Vidura, Draupadi.’

  ‘And let me see if Subhadra is fine after hearing the news, Samrat,’ Draupadi hastened towards the palace. Subhadra was shocked. But she was convinced about the alternate plan. ‘My brother had foreseen the need for such an escape route when the city was still being constructed,’ she sighed in relief.

  Draupadi was still disturbed and it was beyond familial reasons. The news of this aggression by Salva was outrageous. It held the sovereignty of Yudhishtira and Indraprastha in contempt. If the forces from Indraprastha could not reach Dwaraka in time to help their dearest ally, what message would that send to the other allies as well as the kingdoms who had pledged their allegiance? She impatiently waited for Yudhishtira to return after convincing Vidura. Whatever diplomatic action he thought was required, military action had to accompany that.

  Draupadi assessed that it would take about a fortnight for the contingent to set out to Dwaraka with the necessary preparations, assuming that the kingdoms in the route acceded free pass to them, which was not a problem.

  She had reached the end of her patience by the time Yudhishtira concluded his meeting with Vidura and sought her. But far from assurance, Draupadi saw worry on his face. ‘What did Uncle Vidura say, Samrat?’

  ‘Uncle Vidura was not himself today,’ Yudhishtira’s frown deepened. ‘Even after my repeated appeals, he insisted on conveying Uncle Dhritarashtra’s invitation to us to attend the opening ceremony of Jayanta sabha and grace the occasion with a game of dice. He remained non-committal about Hastinapura’s interference regarding Salva and Dwaraka.’

  Draupadi found it equally perplexing. Even though she had not expected Hastinapura to readily support them, she had anticipated at least a favourable response. ‘So, military action is all we can take right now.’ ‘I shall instruct the commander, Indrasena, to prepare a large contingent of the army to march westward,’ Yudhishtira replied after some thought. ‘The army shall march to Dwaraka in case our mission in Hastinapura fails. But something bothers me, Samragni. This king of Salva is one of the most inconspicuous kings of Bharatavarsha. He had remained neutral about his alliances, though I am aware of his tilt towards late Jarasandha and his erstwhile friends. How did he muster the courage and forces to attack Dwaraka?’

  It was a pertinent question that had been troubling Draupadi too. ‘So, there are others who are backing Salva,’ she thought aloud and saw Yudhishtira nod. ‘Probably someone close enough to him to supply the for
ces?’

  ‘Gandhara, Sindhu, Madra, Kambhoja,’ Yudhishtira listed out the kingdoms on the western frontier. ‘The princess of Madra is Krishna’s bride and chances are less that they would harm the marital home of their own daughter. But the other three are related somehow or the other to Hastinapura!’

  ‘Did Hastinapura know it? Or did it clandestinely support this attack too?’ she saw a mix of anger and shock on Yudhishtira’s usually calm face.

  ‘I will have to confront Uncle Dhritarashtra about this, Draupadi.’

  ‘You can order them as the emperor, Yudhishtira,’ Draupadi replied.

  ‘I could,’ Yudhishtira nodded. ‘Probably the situation and its urgency warrant it too. But the court of Hastinapura is full of venerable elders, Samragni. The hostility between us cousins notwithstanding, it was with the blessings of elders like Bhishma, Baahlika, Kripacharya and others that I ascended the throne of Indraprastha. Though not evident, I am sure that they played a key role in convincing Duryodhana against opposing our Rajasuya campaign. Ordering their king who, despite his failings, is still an elder, would be akin to insulting all of them.’

  The situation seemed to get trickier by the moment. Draupadi felt like they were walking amidst treacherous thorns. ‘Do we accept their invitation to the game then and use the opportunity to delicately confront Uncle Dhritarashtra?’

  Yudhishtira took a deep breath. ‘Uncle Vidura usually lets me in on the plans of Hastinapura and indirectly guides me to the next step. But today, he seemed inscrutable, and if I may add, defeated.’

  ‘It is unlikely that your cousins will commit another mistake like the lac-house fire again. They would lose too much now,’ Draupadi frowned.

  ‘Highly unlikely,’ Yudhishtira concurred, ‘I shall leave for Hastinapura in another two days. Bhima shall personally look into readying the army contingent in my absence.’