RECAP

Witnessing the carnage at the Kurukshetra battle, Kunti is overwhelmed by grief. She narrates her story – how, in a moment of adolescent curiosity, she had invoked Durvaasa’s mantra and is constained to respond to the sexual advances of Surya. She delivers Karna but leaves him in a raft to chart his own course. Later, she marries Pandu, who subsequently marries Madri as well. Dhritarashtra marries Gandhari.

CHAPTER 5

The pressure to beget a son was palpable in the Hastinapur palace. 

After all, the success and the stability of a royal household depended on the number of sons it provided.  

The piercing looks of Bhishma seemed to ask me one constant question: when are you going to give us a baby – the reason you have been brought in here. Bhishma, as I said, was born to my husband's grandfather Santanu and Ganga. His austerity, formidable appearance and total commitment to the Kuru empire had given him a larger-than-life image. He would counsel with Queen Satyavati, but it was clear that it was his decision that prevailed, with the tacit approval of the Grand Queen.  

I wasn’t aware of Pandu standing close to me till he touched my shoulders. I told him he had now re-established Hastinapur’s sovereignty over the neighoring kingdoms; so he should now take it easy. The stress of managing the vast kingdom was affecting his performance on the bed, so maybe, I said, we could move outside the palace and live in the forests. We could even get rare herbs that could treat our infertility without attracting others’ attention. 

I knew Pandu loved the forests. So I was delighted when both Pandu and Madri approved my idea.  

The sojourn at the forests proved therapeutic to Pandu. The getaway from towering forts, luxurious palaces, fawning flunkeys and treacherous conspiracies to verdant forests, simple thatched roofs over the head, wild grass mats laid on mud-caked hard floors and a hearty lunch of fruits and vegetables and an occasional meat from the wild was salutary enough, but what Pandu enjoyed most was the stimulating company of sages and sannyasis with whom he would discuss philosophical and theological questions for hours. Viewed from a wider perspective, issues that had threatened to be insurmountable so far appeared trivial and insignificant. He began to relax now. I and Madri took care of all his personal needs, and the three of us never ever missed the palace. 

Then it happened without any warning.  

It was a day like any other. Pandu got up early, as he usually did on the rare days he went hunting. I decided to stay back to take care of the cows in the shed and Madri helped me in tending the small garden we had managed to raise. 

That day, Pandu had chased a tiger into deep woods, telling his companions not to follow him but leave him in peace. The southern slope of the Himavat mountains are overgrown with huge sala trees. Pandu walked on and on, and finally sat exhausted under a tree. As he brooded over his life, he saw a pair of deer making love in the nearby bush.   

As he stood transfixed watching the scene, he felt a surge of repulsive anger in him. He stood up and, fixing his glance over the mating animals, shot a couple of arrows that pierced them both.  

The doe rose high in the air and fell down dead. Pandu was startled to hear the male deer cry in anguish. “Shame on you, Pandu!” Suddenly he saw a bearded sage in the place of the deer, his body bleeding and hugging a lifeless woman soaking in blood. “How did you have the heart to kill an animal engaged in coitus? You come from the illustrious Kuru dynasty, yet do such abominable acts that even ordinary humans would dread to do!” the sage wailed.  

It was sage Kindama who had, in the grip of sexual passion and unable to wait until dark as the Scriptures enjoined, assumed the form of a deer to satiate his lust immediately. And king Pandu had killed his wife before he could complete the act.  

Kindama continued to wail in desolation, “Oh king! What you have done is unpardonable. I curse that you shall die if ever you try to unite with your wife.”  

Pandu shook with fear. He still managed to say nonchalantly, “I did no wrong. I aimed at an animal, not knowing it was you. Killing an animal is permitted by dharma.”  

“Not even an animal when it is so totally helpless in the nature’s reign.” His eyes fixed on Pandu, Kindama breathed his last.  

Crestfallen, Pandu returned to his cottage. To the enquiring wives, he said nothing. It was much later that he gathered enough courage to divulge the cause of his misery.

****  

Madri and I were shocked. We had thought we had been able to bring Pandu to normalcy and we could have children in the near future.   

By this Gandhari, we received the message that Gandhari was pregnant.  

Madri burst into tears. Pandu hung his head in shame. I consoled them both. Accepting the inevitable and the irrevokable is the wisest thing to do, I told them.   

Pandu told us that we could back to Hastinapur and that he would live alone, but we didn’t agree. We said it was our duty to be with him through thick and thin. We were willing to lead a life of renounciation, shunning sex for the entire life time.   

A few years passed away. One day, while serving food, I noticed that Pandu was too lost in thoughts to eat. It was clear his mind was tormented. I tried to distract him, but couldn’t.  

At last, he spoke. “I am unable to sleep at night, thinking of the plight I’ve driven you into.” He didn’t let me interrupt, but continued, “You have every right to have children. Why should you two be punished for my action? I have been thinking over this. My own ancestors have done it. And every sage I have spoken to says it’s permissible. ”  

I didn’t understand till he elaborated, “You can choose a man fit enough to father your child. That’s the only way we can all be happy and that’s the way to salvation – that’s what the shastras say too.”  

Already, we had seen the mental anguish that such a soul-less union led to. I turned away in anger. 

…to be continued