RECAP

Pandu incurs a curse that he would die the minute he has intercourse with a woman. Using the mantra that Kunti has learned from Durvaasa, Kunti and Madri give birth to five Celestial children. At an unguarded moment, Pandu seeks pleasure from Madri and dies. Madri follows him on the funeral pyre. Kunti returns to Hastinapura with the five children.

CHAPTER 9

Gandhari's laughter tinkled across the room. I had been chatting with her for an hour now – indeed, the first time I ever did so. When I had left Hastinapur, she had been married barely for two years. I used to maintain a respectable distance then.

That day, when Gandhari had sent her personal messenger asking for my permission to meet me, I was happy. It had been a month after Pandu's funeral ceremonies. We were slowly getting acclimatized to the new home and the new circumstances. True, Hastinapur palace itself wasn't new, but many things had changed since we had set out from there.

As she came in, Gandhari hugged and asked me if I was comfortable. Then we got talking about old times. She told me how she used to love the rugged and rustic charm of Gandhara that her father Suvala ruled. Then she talked about how Bhishma had sent proposals to her father. Though she described the events factually without coloring it with emotions, it was easy for me to see her anguish that she had been a pawn in the process. Yes, nobody refused a Hastinapur offer even if it was for a blind king. And a daughter had to respect a commitment made by her father, even if he did so without consulting her. So a carefree life amidst the Hindu kush mountains and lush countryside had to be given up for a blindfolded life in the confines of a cheerless, colorless, albeit expansive, palace.

She said all this with a cheerful face. "But why did you blindfold yourself?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Oh, Dhritarashtra was born blind. He has never seen the world. I wanted see the world as he would see it."

"But you could have been his eyes by keeping them open," I suppressed the words that rose to my lips.

The same thought was to occur to me several times in the future as well. If she had kept her eyes open, she would have been able to see her hundred children grow. She could have seen them take the first faltering steps, seen the subtle messages in their eyes when they fell down, got pushed, or lost in a game when they were kids, or seen looks of anger, deception and revenge when they were older.

Presently, my children entered the room. They touched my feet and Gandhari's by turns Their faces were flushed with excitement.

"So you have been playing," I said lightly tapping the soil off their silken garments.

"Yes mother, all of us were sitting on the trees, and Bhima shook the tree. All of us came tumbling down, and Bhima laughed and made fun of us."

"Really?" Gandhari was startled.

"Bhima, you shouldn't be rough any more," I chided Bhima and explained to an uncomprehending Gandhari that Bhima, being the son of the Wind god, had the strength of several hundreds of elephants and could, indeed, shake and even uproot a big tree.

“Who has got hurt,” Gandhari tried to conceal her astonishment and ask evenly.

“All of us,” said Yudhishtra, “we, the Pandavas as well as the Kauravas. All of them.”

“Sister, Bhima doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just mischievous. I’ll tell him to be careful,” I told Gandhari. I knew she’d be hurt even if she didn’t show it.

I had reasons to worry. Already, I had noticed the scorn and antagonism on Duryodhana’s face whenever the children played together or practised the use of weapons. It was no secret that the five Pandavas were more than a match for the hundred Kauravas. None of the Kauravas could rival Arjuna in archery, and none could similarly match Nakula in the use of swords.

I did not want envy to sow seeds of separation between the brothers. Already, the courtiers and common citizens were very open in their adulation of the Pandavas. Pandavas were well-mannered, well trained in the martial arts, well-versed in the scriptures…And the Kauravas? Disrespectful of elders, rude, and boorish. The inevitable comparison never failed to bring in a thinly veiled look of irritation on the faces of the Kauravas.

That night, I sat with the children and told them the future of Hastinapura lay in the unity between the brothers. If that meant playing low and safe, they should do it.

A week passed. One day, Duryodhana sent special invitations to the Pandavas for a special game of water sports. He told Yudhishtra that he had organized for a special ‘Jala Kreeda (water sports)’ festival on the banks of the river Ganges. A new palace had been especially erected for the occasion, and cooks were hired to feed them with novel delicacies.

I felt uneasy. I had been a witness to the seething envy that lurked underneath Duryodhana’s friendly exterior. I could not tell Yudhishtra not to accept the invitation. That was not expected of Kshatriyas. I prayed to God to take care of my children.

My fears were not unfounded, as the subsequent events were to show.

…to be continued