‘It is all right, Draupadi,’ he sighed at her. ‘Don’t come near me. You shall regret it. Again.’
‘Well, I am coming!’ she descended into the waters and hugged him from behind. She felt his muscles flex under her hold. He tried to extricate himself. He could easily have. But she held on with all her strength. ‘Please Bhima! I beg you, talk to me.’
His response was only a cry of anguish before he held her arms again. This time, it was not to shake her away. ‘How did I turn into this monster?’ he felt her shaking her head vehemently. ‘Don’t deceive yourself and me, Draupadi. Vengeance has festered in my heart and has turned it into stone. I have become a mons…’
‘No, you have not! In fact, you are the farthest from being a monster, Bhima. And your heart is not made of stone. You felt a woman’s trauma. I have tried to harden myself against the memory, but you felt the hurt all along. You bore it more than I did. Because you have the heart to feel and empathize. You make me proud, Bhima!’
He turned around, tears freely streaming from his eyes. He held her close. ‘You are too kind, Draupadi. But I know what I am. At least, I know that I am very different from the other four! Different enough to be an embarrassment at times!’ After a pause, he suddenly withdrew. ‘You haven’t yet washed off that blood!’
‘I said you make me proud!’ Draupadi smiled, crying. It was a rare occurrence that she had let herself cry in front of any of her husbands, especially after the game. He knew he had breached a wall. Draupadi brushed the tears away and beamed. ‘Yes, you are different from them. They are what they are and they continue to be what they are because you are what you are. Each of you owes yourself to the other four, Bhima! I love each of you for what you are!’
Probably, it was the first time that she had openly declared her love. He held her and wept aloud. Bhima seldom held back his emotions, whether it was anger, grief or joy. But this was the first time he wept like a child of five or six. Like a huge burden was off his shoulders. Draupadi knew that the burden was hurting him more than wreaking vengeance against Dushasana.
It was about her!
At last, he felt he deserved her.
Thirty-eight
Uttara is Pregnant
The reduced number of tents in the enemy camp was a sorry sight. Draupadi remembered the vastness of the Kuru camp which had been enough to intimidate the most formidable of warriors, just seventeen days back. The number of tents had dwindled with each day. Today, it was not even a tenth of what it had been. Draupadi looked at her own camp and the situation was not very different.
In the enemy camp, only Duryodhana and a few of his brothers had survived, along with Karna, Shakuni, Shalya, Ashvatthama, Kripacharya and Kritavarma. The Pandavas too had suffered irreparable losses—the deaths of Abhimanyu and Ghatotkacha being the most emotionally devastating. No, there were more—where every man in family had perished. Mechanically overseeing the activities under her charge, Draupadi walked towards Uttara’s tent. How would the child stand the loss of her brothers, father, and even her new groom, before she had even seen eighteen springs of her life?
She saw Uttara sitting on the bed, a ghost of her former chatty self. Draupadi walked up to the princess of Matsya and brushed her long hair that had remained without care ever since the day Abhimanyu had died.
Uttara looked at her, her eyes bereft of all emotions. Before speaking anything more, Draupadi reached out for the jar of fragrant oil and began to groom Uttara’s hair, like olden times. She fervently hoped that the child would vent out her grief and try coming back to normal. But Uttara’s disturbing silence continued. It was when Draupadi called the maid to get her the bath oils that Uttara spoke up.
‘Don’t they say that a widow is not supposed to adorn herself this way, Mother Draupadi?’
‘Who said you are one?’ Draupadi whispered, suppressing her own sob. ‘You have been my daughter ever since I stepped into your palace at Matsya, Uttara. You shall continue to be a daughter. We shall find another suitable groom for you.’
Uttara shrank back from her and shook her head. Draupadi sighed, ‘It has hardly been six months since you wedded Abhimanyu. Steel yourself and move on, child. I shall not let your youth go waste.’
‘It shall not,’ Uttara replied in a small voice. ‘Neither will I marry anyone else.’ When Draupadi turned towards her, Uttara’s tears broke their dams. ‘I bear Abhimanyu’s child.’ In the next moment, Draupadi enveloped her in her arms. Amidst the devastating dance of death, Abhimanyu’s bride had showed them hope.
The five brothers needed to hear this!
Searching for a messenger to ride out to the field, Draupadi, to her shock, heard that Yudhishtira had retired to the camp because of the multiple wounds he had suffered in the hands of Karna. Rushing to him, she found Arjuna exiting the tent, rage rendering his face crimson. She called out to him but found him in no mood to listen.
She caught Krishna just before he exited and pulled him back inside. The sight of Yudhishtira covered in blood made her pause. But taking the medicine and salve from the physician’s hands herself, she looked at Yudhishtira’s disturbed face and then at Krishna. ‘Uttara is pregnant with Abhimanyu’s child!’
The change in the men’s faces was palpable. Krishna’s emotions were eclipsed as his eyelids closed.
In relief.
Yudhishtira smiled through his pain, even if it was just for a moment, and ordered for a celebration in the camp after sunset. Krishna’s inscrutable but burdened smile told her that something else had happened. And that it was not pleasant. As if urging her to speak to Yudhishtira later, he took leave. Yudhishtira embraced him and spoke in a tone uncharacteristic of him. ‘Steer the war to Karna’s death today, Krishna. I have lost hope on him whose will to fight falters at the time of need!’
The sarcasm in his tone when he refused to take Arjuna’s name was not lost on Krishna, but he chose to only nod and leave. But not before conveying something to Draupadi with his eyes.
I am with Arjuna. Take care of the emperor.
Draupadi first chose to turn her attention to Yudhishtira’s wounds. They were the worst she had ever seen.
‘Don’t bother yourself, Draupadi!’ Yudhishtira exclaimed, pushing her hand away. ‘For all you know, I might be better off dead soon.’
‘Samrat!’ There was more anger in her tone than shock. It was not only uncharacteristic of him to wish for death, but also irresponsible in the present circumstances. Softening with some effort, she sat by his side. For the first time, he moved away, despite the heavy bleeding in his leg. He grunted aloud in agony and fell back against the cushions.
‘Calm down, Yudhishtira! The pain shall subside.’
‘Unfortunately!’ he rued. ‘My dying will result in a defeat. For all my wrongs, the least I can do is to cling onto this life and stop you all from losing. Though it kills me every single time when I realize that I have only been a burden to you all.’
After he was quiet, she asked, ‘Who did this?’
Yudhishtira’s face wrinkled. He hated to even utter the name. ‘That very low life who, on that fateful day, called you a…’
‘Karna!’
‘I know he would have said none of that if, as Arjuna ranted, I knew “when to stop”.’
Draupadi sighed, imagining the unpleasant conversation that would have taken place. No wonder Krishna had urged her to take care of Yudhishtira. ‘And Arjuna told you you are a burden?’
‘Not in exact words, but as the one who snatched the benefits of all his hard work, including you, his rightful bride. I guess he meant that!’
Draupadi felt the world go dark for a moment but steadied herself. ‘I don’t deserve this!’
‘Yes, you don’t! Not after destroying the life of your dreams under this meaningless pursuit of keeping us united!’
‘I shall talk to him.’
‘Don’t!’ Yudhishtira held her hands. ‘He probably needed to vent. And this has everything to do with us and not y
ou. Stay assured, I shall not let you down on this one, Draupadi.’ He saw Draupadi swallow the lump in her throat and nodded with difficulty. ‘Besides, this will be forgotten if he manages to get rid of Karna!’
‘I heard that Bhima was about to kill him. But he was reminded that Karna was supposed to be Arjuna’s “rightful game”!’ she grinned, drawing a slight smile from Yudhishtira. ‘Never feel you are a burden, Samrat. I can’t overlook the fact that we were ruthlessly let down by your decision to play dice. But unlike what Arjuna says, there was no stopping once you started. Every next wager must have seemed small enough compared to what you had lost in the previous turn. It must have felt like the risk was worth it. Only to realize that it was wrong and too late,’ she stopped, seeing him smile sadly.
‘When Uncle Vidura told me that rejecting the call to play the game bore the risk of a war, I agreed to play the game hoping to avert the disaster. And now… Resisting fate often ends up enabling it to hit back, carrying more disastrous results.’
‘It was not fate that you resisted, Samrat,’ Draupadi shook her head. ‘It was the truth that no amount of amicability from your side could fix the fractured relationship between you and the sons of Dhritarashtra. Hoping against hope that their hearts would change and throwing ourselves in the fray only brought more disaster upon…this land. Besides, our allies and theirs, many took sides to settle scores between each other. The disaster was waiting to happen, one way or the other.’
The messenger from the battlefield interrupted them with the message that Arjuna and Karna had met in a single duel. Draupadi saw Yudhishtira’s eyes blaze when he rose to his feet, unmindful of his multiple wounds, and nearly collapsed under the excruciating pain.
With the physicians rushing in, Draupadi’s full attention was on reviving him, rather than on the result of the duel. Somewhere in her heart, she felt sure that Karna stood no chance against Arjuna, given the fury with which he had left for the field. She wondered why Arjuna had vented out those abominable feelings after all these years.
Why did he not speak when he could have done so earlier?
The stab of pain got stronger as she dwelt upon it. Draupadi curled her fists, trying to squish the feeling. It shocked her that it still existed in the hidden crevices of her heart.
No! I love all of them!
Yudhishtira’s condition stabilized and he was put to sleep. It was almost sunset by the time Draupadi had supervised the other activities of the camp, checked on the medicine supply and the recovery of the wounded. It was time for some updates from the field. But it looked like all the messengers were caught up on the field.
Arjuna would be in his best form.
She smiled to herself and walked back to Yudhishtira’s tent. To her relief, his wounds had stopped bleeding and his energy was rising. The first to return were Shikhandi and Dhrishtadyumna, after facing mixed luck in the hands of Ashvatthama and Kripacharya. Her five sons returned in higher spirits, having defeated Shakuni, his son, and the other warriors. Draupadi debated on whether to break the news of Uttara’s pregnancy and decided to wait for Arjuna’s return.
The dust in the horizon rose, indicating the arrival of speeding chariots. The familiar banner sporting the intimidating face of Lord Hanuman was the first to break through the cloud of dust. The sounds of both the conches, Devadatta and Panchajanya, greeted her ears. Draupadi knew the result when she heard the triumphant call from the distance. She rushed back to Yudhishtira, waiting for the arrival of the victorious. A look at Yudhishtira told her that he shared her hope.
Before long, Arjuna hurried in, his face showing a strange mix of graveness and accomplishment. Yudhishtira rose, now without any help from her or the physician.
‘Eldest, he is dead!’
They embraced. Draupadi sighed in relief. Krishna followed close behind and grinned at her. The camp erupted in cheer.
‘Take me to the field! I wish to see his dead body!’ Yudhishtira demanded, stunning every one. Bhima and Nakula readily escorted him, while Arjuna chose to retire.
Draupadi stared at Yudhishtira’s departing form.
‘War often brings out the worst in people, Sakhi,’ Krishna remarked, reading her thoughts. Neither of them were new to celebrations that followed the death of an enemy. But going to see the corpse of the enemy warrior, and Yudhishtira, of all people doing so, was something different.
And disturbing.
‘The emperor bore no hatred towards Karna. But that son of Atiratha had hurled the worst of insults that day. Worse than those that Duryodhana spoke!’ Draupadi recollected. ‘I thought Yudhishtira was immune to them. But now…’
‘Don’t, Draupadi,’ Krishna squeezed her palm. ‘Don’t despair when it is expressed. Let the worst be purged out. Don’t aid in suppressing it.’ When they parted for the night, they both knew the relief each felt.
One man stood between them and the end of this destruction.
Thirty-nine
Victory at What Cost?
The day had started on an almost joyful note. Uttara’s pregnancy seemed to have cheered the lowest cadre of foot soldiers as well. Subhadra, aware of how loved her Abhimanyu was, had made sure that the sweetmeats prepared on the occasion reached everyone in the camp.
The warriors had left for the battlefield in high spirits. Even the perpetually sullen Sudeshna had cast off her melancholy to celebrate her daughter’s news. If something had felt unusual to Draupadi, it was Kunti’s lack of jubilation. How many women lived to see their great-grandchildren? Draupadi was not sure she would. She did not understand why Kunti, instead of being a part of the joy, chose to stay back in the tent, not agreeing to see anyone, including her and Subhadra.
The messengers kept bringing updates from the field. Yudhishtira had killed Shalya, the king of Madra. Draupadi remembered how much Shalya’s last minute defection to the other side had hurt Nakula and Sahadeva. They had faced and bettered him multiple times throughout the war but had stopped short of killing their maternal uncle. Today, that put an end to their suppressed agony. Just as she was fondly thinking of them, the messengers brought the news that the twins had killed the wily Shakuni, and his son, Uluka. The Panchala princes and her five sons had taken up the job of holding off Ashvatthama, Kripa and Kritavarma, while Bhima killed the rest of the sons of Dhritarashtra.
Offering the customary rewards to those who brought the news of victory, Draupadi’s thoughts went back to Kunti. When she ventured into Kunti’s tent, she was shocked to find her mother-in-law grieving.
Like she had lost someone dear. Who could it be?
They had all mourned Abhimanyu and Ghatotkacha alike. She could not think of anyone on the other side who could have been the recipient of Kunti’s affection. Kunti’s grief was concerning, but Draupadi was unsuccessful in finding out the reason. With the routine duties of supervising the camp waiting for her, Draupadi went back. The workload had decreased greatly, given how men fell in the war. The concerns in the early days of war had been procuring weapons back from the field and deploying smiths to sharpen them in order to ready them for the next day. But in the recent days, it was all about preventing the outbreak of any unforeseen disease caused by the decaying bodies on the battlefield. Both sides were working to ensure honourable funerals to their respective martyrs. But the number of deaths overtook the number of chandalas who assisted in disposing off the bodies. Meanwhile, as the queen, Draupadi took all the care she could to prevent an epidemic.
In the early hours of the afternoon, she heard that Duryodhana had fled the battlefield, and that the Pandavas, with Krishna and his cousin Satyaki, had gone in search of the enemy king.
A new complication!
She cursed Duryodhana in her mind for delaying the inevitable. After letting his whole side be massacred, right from his grandfather Bhishma to young children and dear friends, she had at least expected the eldest son of Dhritarashtra to put up a valiant fight as the last man standing. But as Krishna had pointed out, the war had ind
eed brought out the worst in everyone. For Duryodhana, it perhaps brought out his cowardice.
Fatigue had begun to claim her limbs and Draupadi tried to get some rest in the afternoon. Sounds of jubilation from the Panchala groups gathered momentum. She learnt that most of the Kuru army was disheartened after Duryodhana deserted them and that some of their foot soldiers surrendered while others chose to leave the field. There was still no sign of the five brothers or of Krishna and Satyaki who had accompanied them in their search for Duryodhana. Guru Kripacharya had withdrawn from the battle, angry and disappointed with his pupil, and Ashvatthama had gone to persuade him to come back to the field. Something about this news made Draupadi uncomfortable. More than half of the camp had started celebrating the end of the bloody war even before the enemy king had been killed or captured.
It was a familiar sense of foreboding that Draupadi felt. Her sons convinced even Subhadra, Sudeshna and Uttara to join them but she was far from feeling triumphant.
Like she had lost everything. But war of this scale does take its dues.
Draupadi kept debating with herself, looking frantically for the Pandavas and Krishna to return. Her eyes remained fixed on the paths leading to their camp. Even the messengers got tired of her incessant queries. Sensing their restlessness and longing to join the celebrations, Draupadi chose to not send them again for updates. The sun set and darkness only encouraged the drunk soldiers to celebrate louder.
The sound of conches blaring from a distance caught her attention even amidst the noise and Draupadi rushed toward the entrance of their encampment. It was the lusty note from Bhima’s Paundra.
The war had indeed ended!
Draupadi lost count of how many times she tossed in the bed. The fact that she slept in the deserted Kuru camp as the conventional conventional symbol of the victor, had a part to play in her sleeplessness. Not that she had ever slept well a single night since the war had started. But today seemed different. She had hoped for a good night’s sleep in the empty camp, away from the noise of celebrations in her own camp. But the noise raged inside her mind. It was past midnight when she felt Yudhishtira’s hand upon hers.
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