Maha Bhaarata - Events : Part 1

Duty of a King

The right of kingship fell on the younger brother, Pandu, since Dhrthrashtra was blind. Pandu re-established the throne of Hastinapur and widened the frontiers of the kingdom by his constant efforts and ‘dhigvijaya’. His skill in the martial arts earned him either the ready acceptance of the kings on whom he marched, many surrendering to him even without a war, or to establish his name as the first among warriors. On his return from dhigvijaya, Pandu desired to rest for a while and pass his time in the jungles, hunting.
He therefore went to the Himalayan region along with his wives Kunti and Maadri and stayed there for several months. He relaxed and indulged in the favourite pastime of kings – hunting. At such a time Pandu came across a pair of deer lost in themselves, mating. He was so happy in sighting game and immediately let his arrow loose on the stag. Hit by his arrow, the stag that was experiencing bliss fell on the ground. It was overcome by grief and turned to Pandu and spoke to him like humans.

‘You are born in the lineage of the great king Bharata and your family does not swerve an inch from the path of Dharma. And how come did you kill me now?’ the stag questioned him. Pandu was taken by surprise. He could not believe his ears. This animal is speaking! And it is questioning him on grounds of Dharma!

‘It is the duty of kings to go hunting and kill animals. The scriptures accept this and sanction their acceptance for a king to go hunting. I was only performing my duty and I am surprised that you are questioning me on this! Are you questioning my killing you, the individual animal, or hunting in general?’ Pandu asked.

‘I am not angry because you came to the jungle for hunting nor am I grieving in your killing me. As a king, you have the responsibility of balancing the number animals as against the number of your people and protect them from wild animals. I agree. But at the same time, it is also your duty to see that forms of life procreate and multiply. I was copulating with my mate for begetting children. You did not wait till we could complete the bliss of our union. You stopped the spread of my family and my race. A king must be careful to provide the environment for the spread of every species of living and save them from becoming extinct.

‘Listen O Pandu! I am not a stag. I am a Rishi known as Kindama. Man or deer, it is the job of the king to protect and allow them to bear the fruits of life. You interfered with our joy and stopped my lineage from spreading any further. I curse you now. You will die the moment you cohabit with your wife.’

Pandu realised his mistake and went on exile himself. For the good at heart even curses bloom into blessings. It was due to this curse that Kunti was left with no option but to use the boon given to her by Durvasa.

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Jealousy, the poison of poisons

People who are really innocent and do not harm others are protected by the laws of nature. Here is the story of Bhima who was saved against all odds.

Pandu, the younger brother of Dhrthrashtra accepted self-exile on being cursed by sage Kindhama, who was mating with his wife in the form of a deer. Kunti and Maadri bore children in the jungle and they were trained in the martial arts by an archer called Suka who lived in the same jungle.

Well, it so happened that one day Pandu united with Maadri and died due to the curse of Kindama. Maadri performed sati and followed Pandu. Young Yudhisthira was sixteen at that time. The responsibility of bringing the children up vested with Kunti. She had to come back to Hastinapur.

By that time Duryodhana who was a year younger to Yudhisthira – and of the same age as that of Bhima – had turned fifteen. He had grown up with the feeling that he was the single and sole heir to the crown, since he was the eldest of the hundred. The intrusion of this band of five set his mind on fire. And ‘mama’ Shakuni kept fanning his feelings up. Duryodhana could not bear the very thought that he might have to share the kingdom with Yudhisthira.

‘The kingdom was given to my uncle only because my father is blind. He was a care-taker and guardian and not a king in the truest sense of the word. I therefore become the natural heir,’ he thought. But Pandu had contributed a lot to the growth of Hastinapur. He had undertaken ‘dhig vijaya’ and widened the frontiers extensively. On that score at least Yudhisthira – the citizens felt – should have a fair share, if not as the eldest of the family.

The physical strength of Bhima worried Duryodhana a lot. Bhima was bounding with energy. The superabundant energy that he had by virtue of his physical strength – the strength that pulverised a rock on which he slipped from the waist of Kunti when he was about two years old – had turned him into a naughty boy. He would grab some ten or fifteen of his Kaurava cousins and jump into the Ganges and remain under water for a long time while the boys struggled for breath. He would kick the trees on whose branches the Kaurava youngsters would be perched and shake the trees so violently – it was child’s play for this boy – making them fall on the ground like ripe mangoes.

What was innocent fun for Bhima was injury and pain for the boys. And as the eldest of them all, Duryodhana grew naturally grew protective about them and the initial self-pity that he had that he could not do much about hitting back at Bhima turned into anger and by and by jealousy. Duryodhana’s mind dwelled hard on ways to eliminate Bhima. He knew that Bhima and of course, Arjuna, would be the most formidable forces to reckon with, and that they would be the sheet anchors of Yudhisthira with whom he would have to share the kingdom with.

Aided by Shakuni, Duryodhana – imagine he was only fifteen then – designed a very clear plan. He organised a grand water-sporting event in the banks of Ganges. All of them had good fun in diving, swimming and such other spores. At the end of the event, they had a sumptuous feast. Bhima, known as Vrikodara (wolf-bellied) because of his enormous appetite and because of the fact that his belly would always remain flat irrespective of the quantity he had guzzled, ate particularly large quantities of food. Duryodhana fed him by his own hand showing deceptive affection. The food served for Bhima was mixed with a generous quantity of a kind of palatable venom. Bhima felt drowsy and fell asleep. The Pandava brothers had returned to the palace by now. Duryodhana, with the help of a few of his other brothers tied him up with creepers and threw him into Ganges where poisonous snakes infested. He had arranged for very sharp tridents treated with venom to be stuck at the bottom of the river, to triply ensure the death of Bhima.

But as luck would have it, Bhima fell in a place where there were no tridents stuck at the bottom. The snakes bit him of course. His skin, by birth, was very thick and they could not cause him much harm. And whatever quantity of snake poison that went into him, neutralised the poison that he had with his food. Having fallen in the water, he regained consciousness soon.

There was an old serpent in the river, who in the complex pattern of relationships in Mahabharata was the grandfather of Kunti. He took Bhima to Vaasuki, the king of serpents. Bhima was blessed with protection against all kinds of poison, growing stronger than before by the special concoctions of Naga Loka, and sent back with a rich treasure, only to kindle the fire of jealousy in the heart of Duryodhana! Jealousy, the poison of poisons that never stopped till the death of Duryodhana.

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Friendship that seeded great enmity…

Acharya Drona and the Panchala King Drupada were boyhood friends. They learnt from sage Bharadwaja. Drona was the son of Bharadwaja and it was a very ordinary Brahmin family. The father of Drupada, Prsata, was a great friend of Bharadwaja and therefore he had put his son under the care of the sage.

The vast differences in the status of the families from which the youngsters came from did not stand in the way of the friendship, love and affection that grew up between these two lads. ‘When I assume the office of the King,’ Drupada would tell Drona, ‘I will share half of my kingdom with you.’

Years rolled past and sage Bharadwaja attained the Ultimate and King Prsata too died. With time the lives of the friends took them in different directions. Drupada became the king after the death of his father and Drona, after completion of his education married Krupp, the daughter of sage Saradvan and the younger sister of Krupa, the first teacher of all the Kauravas and Pandavas. Their happy married life resulted in the birth of Aswathama.

Life was not very kind to Drona. He was steeped in poverty and did not even have the means of fetching a glass of milk for young Aswathama. Krupi, as any other wife would do, insisted that Drona should go and see King Drupada, who had promised to give him half his kingdom. If not half the kingdom, he would not hesitate to ensure that Drona gets what he is worth and settles down in his life decently.

Drona thought that this must be the right way and he went to the court of his old friend with fond memories and hopes. But their lives have moved in different directions and the present status as a king had gone into the head of Drupada. He had become quite so status-conscious and was not prepared to call this thin, emaciated Brahmin as his boyhood friend and to acknowledge the fact that this was the son of his Guru.

‘Your intellect must have been dulled by your poverty, O Brahmin!’ he said. ‘A king who is surrounded by prosperity cannot ever have a friend from the family of beggars. Yes. We were friends once upon a time. But you must also take into account the changing circumstances. A good and even strong friendship might be broken for flimsy reasons such as desire for the same woman. Sometimes anger would end what seemed to be a lasting friendship. You must have thought of these things before entering this court. There cannot be friendship between people of unequal status in life.’
Drona’s heart was bleeding from the injury that he suffered at the hands of this king, whom he trusted to be his friend. But this rash act of Drupada had its own reward. He should have respected friendship, however old it might have been. He should have respected his own words. If not half the kingdom, he had the responsibility, both as a king and as a friend, to see that Drona settles down in life. He failed miserably in his duty.

There came a time when Drona could turn the tables on Drupada. And that led to many events, one of which was the reason – of course among many other reasons – for Drona remaining with the Kauravas as Drupada was the father-in-law of Pandavas and also was the father of Dhrstadyumna, who was born from the sacrificial fire, just to kill Drona.

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An injury heals and another bleeds…

Drona who was insulted by his old friend Drupada did not quite know what to do next. But the injury in his heart set him on a decisive path. He should make amends. He should make King Drupada eat his words. He then thought of his brother-in-law, who was a great archer too and was teaching the Kaurava and Pandava princes. He decided that Hastinapur was the right place for him to make a living.

When he was in the precincts of the palace and performing ‘agnihotra’ by the side of a well, it so happened that the ball that the young Kaurava and Pandava princes were playing with fell into that well. When prince Yudhisthira pointed at it, bending over the well, his ring also fell into it. The princes were hard put to find out a way to retrieve the ball as well as the ring. Drona, who had completed his rites just then, enquired them and smiled. ‘I am amazed young prince! With the kind of training you have, you should not be mulling over like this. Or is it that your training in archery not sufficient? Just stand by my side and watch me,’ he said.

He then collected a handful of ribs from coconut leaves. He meditated over them and pronounced the appropriate mantra and through a single rib at the ball. Its sharp-pointed edge pierced the ball in the well. The next rib pierced the tail end of the first one that pierced the ball. And another rib penetrated its tail end. This grew up into a convenient link long enough for them to hold and take the ball out. Drona retrieved the ring with the help of his bow and arrow.

The boys narrated this amazing incident to their grand-sire, Bhishma, who immediately spotted the talent and knew him to be Drona, even before seeing him. The children were entrusted to the new Acharya. They were all trained very well and had their own favorites. Yudhisthira was an expert with the lance while Bhima and Duryodhana were fond of the mace and Arjuna was an unparalleled archer.

The boys had to give the Acharya their fees. Guru Dakshina. Their Guru had only one thing to ask of them. The youngsters should go in war against King Drupada and imprison him and bring him to the presence of the Acharya. Kauravas undertook the task first and could not stand the fierce retaliation of Drupada. And then, out of the five Pandavas, Bhima and Arjuna alone went. There is no need to say that it was child’s play for these two to capture the King alive and produce him before their master.

Acharya Drona smiled. ‘We were boyhood friends, O King! But you failed to respect our friendship. Now, you are a captive of my students. All that you claimed as your land has slipped into my laps now. But I, I will not fail to respect our friendship. Though you are not my equal now, I wish to treat you with the same old warmth that we nurtured in our hearts when we were boys. Here is your half. Take it. All that is on the southern bank of Ganges will be yours and I would rule over the northern bank. Now that makes us equals.’

The scar in the heart of the Brahmin warrior disappeared. But there now was a new injury. It was in the heart of Drupada. Panchali and Dhrstadyumna were born to him from a sacrificial fire, the latter for the purpose of beheading the Acharya.
But the greatness of the Acharya lies in the fact that despite knowing that Dhrstadyumna was born to kill him, it was he – Drona – who taught him Dhanur Veda, excellence in archery.

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Karna learns archery

Not all situations in life are amenable to everyday logic. Sometimes life plays unkindly games. One needs guidance and counselling at such times. But the person left with no resources to seek a guide tends to decide on his or her own. More often, he or she finds a short cut to salvage the best from a bad situation. Many times that is the only solution that seems to be available. Nonetheless, guidance and counselling may prove otherwise.

Karna’s foster father Atiratha gifted him with a chariot and horses on his sixteenth birthday. Atiratha, a charioteer and carpenter, by profession had found the baby floating on the waters of Ganga. Born with armour and earrings, the baby was the treasure of the couple, Adhiratha and Radha, though they were blessed with children later. Karna was the most endeared of all their children and was known by the matronymic, Radheya.

However, Karna had no desire to drive the chariot. Instead, the urge to hold a bow and arrow filled him. That desire had always haunted his dreams, right from his childhood. He had not spoken about it until now to anyone. Not interested in driving the chariot gifted by Atiratha, the sixteen-year-old lad went to his mother, Radha. ‘Ma, the gift of chariot does not interest me. I don’t know why; but I find this desire to hold the bow and arrows and to fight great battles is ever growing in me. It haunts my dreams.’

Radha embraced the boy. She narrated the past to him. She told him of his uncertain parentage. ‘The desire to fight must be innate. The desire to learn archery is inborn, my dear son,’ she told him. Karna decided to learn archery and he approached Acharya Drona who was teaching the Pandavas and Kauravas at that time. This must have been much later. Going by the events, calculations show that Karna was elder to Yudhisthira by about twelve years.

Acharya Drona had his own preferences about imparting the skills of archery. Archery was considered as the best of all martial arts and Drona went by the family background to accept or reject a student who sought training from him. Born to sage Bharadwaja, Drona received his training in archery from his father. Later, he was trained by Parasurama, the annihilator of Kshatriyas. Drona was not interested in accepting a student who did not belong to the Kshatriya clan. Karna knew that he was not the son of the charioteer. But he did not have the information on his parentage and that stood between him and his goal.

That disappointment was too painful for the young Karna. That he could not learn what he desired from the bottom of his heart was too much for the boy. It is not that all the masters went by the family background of the aspirant to impart knowledge. The story of Jabaala Satyakama is an example of masters who went only by the thirst for knowledge of the aspirant rather than his birth. But that one is for another day.

Karna’s undiminished desire to master the bow and arrows took him to Parasurama. Now, Parasurama was the son of sage Jamadagni, to avenge for whose killing Parasurama proclaimed a war against the Kshatriyas and killed twenty-one generations of them. Karna knew very well that he would not receive his training in archery from this great master, if he introduces himself either as the foster son of a charioteer or as a person of unknown parentage.

It is not that Parasurama did not train Kshatriyas at all. There were exceptions to his preference, considering the fact that Bhishma - the young Devavrata, son of Ganga - was his direct disciple. But Karna did not know how to go about it. He was left without a guide. His desire to get trained by the best in the field was uppermost in his heart. The poor lad could not find any other way than utter falsehood to realise his goal of becoming one of the very best archers.

He fell at the feet of Parasurama and introduced himself as a Brahmin boy. Parasurama was pleased with this boy and began the training. The time that he spent in the ashrama of Parasurama was perhaps the best period in the life of Karna. His education began. Karna forgot the pain caused by the uncertainty of his birth and the mockery that went with it. His mind was set only on the skills that he thirsted to acquire. He won the heart of his master and very soon - in a matter of months - came out successful in the most difficult and dreaded of all astras, the Brahmastra.

The lie took him to the peak. That lie served him well in achieving what he desired. But did it help him in every way?

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Truth and Falsehood

We were speaking about the lie of Karna, Is a lie always detestable? Can falsehood not be acceptable at all in all circumstances? Before going into this question, we need to think of other instances in our epics, draw parallels and reflect on the acceptability or not of such situations and come back to the moot point again.

Though uttering falsehood is considered one among the five major sins – pancha-maha-paadhakam – there are exceptions to the rule. Concessions are made in the case of not-so-serious lies, like the one uttered by Sugriva who told Rama in their first meeting that he did not know anything about Ravana, while the ogre had stayed in their household for a month in younger days, when friendship developed between him and Vali. That one pales into insignificance, when Sugriva’s intentions are taken into consideration. In fact, nobody takes notice of it at all. He did not mean to suppress a vital piece of information deliberately and therefore that could be pardoned. He might have erred; or forgotten or slipped. Or he could not think properly because of the delirious state of mind in which he was at that time. Similarly, when Janaki denied any knowledge about the identity of Hanuman, when the guarding demonesses questioned her, she was of course not speaking the truth. But the situation makes it right and acceptable. This will be discussed in the appropriate context.

Even the strictest disciplinarian, Valluvar, allows a minor discount for such instances. ‘poymayum vaaymai idaththa,’ he says. Even falsehood can be placed somewhere near Truth. That is to say, a lie can never be accepted as valid as truth; but yes, one can place it somewhere close to truth. It may not enjoy the same status; but let it be seated nearby – at least a notch lower than Truth. But conditions apply, says Valluvar. ‘purai thIrndha nanmai payakkum enin.’ If that lie brings common good. ‘purai thIrndha,’ he qualifies the nature of goodness that the lie results in. It should not only result in goodness, but that goodness should be pure and unstained in all respects.

That is the reason why, we are not able to digest the lie of Dharmaputra – though what he uttered was true in all respects. Yes, it was an elephant that was named Ashvatthama, which was killed that day. But when his preceptor sought an information, it was about his son. Dharmaputra was aware of it. Think of it. When so many of his own trusted men were around him, Acharya Drona chose Yudhishthira to vouch for the killing of Ashvatthama – a chiranjIvi, an immortal, who is not supposed to die at all – since he trusted him so much for his truthfulness and honesty. Though Yudhisthira was his student, he was the enemy that the Acharya was fighting against at that moment. Read in this context, the penchant for Truth of Dharmaputra and the kind of trust that the Acharya had in him is more than obvious. Even though he was against it, Yudhisthira was forced by circumstances, though that is no excuse.

That resulted in good, no doubt. But it was not the ‘purai thIrndha nanmai’ goodness, pure in all respects that Valluvar speaks of. He avoided a direct answer, though he uttered the truth. He gave an irrelevant answer, twisted his words and rephrased his response in such a manner that it was understood differently. The intention here, in fact, is to make the Acharya misunderstand. A truth uttered with ulterior motive. And that is why we are not able to accept it. A statement even though it is not falsehood, is not given the status of truth.

And it cannot be given that status. That is why Vyasa mentions that the chariot of Dharmaputra, which was floating about four inches above the ground, touched the ground and ran on the ground from that day.

Therefore, Truth or falsehood is more determined by context than by what is uttered, directly. It is the intention, the motive, the purpose behind the statement that is more important than the statement itself. That is why while we are able to forgive Sugriva for his misstatement about his knowledge of Ravana, accept Janaki for her denial of any knowledge about Hanuman, we are not able to accept Yudhisthira, even when he spoke the truth.

This is the background that we needed to examine the falsehood of Karna that he uttered to his master, Parasurama. Let us now examine the situation.

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Weigh with reason not passion

When we look at the topic Truth and Falsehood, we are considering the element that decides the quality of a statement. It cannot be denied that Truth has no substitute. But we saw that in critical situations, exemptions are made and there are times when falsehood is condoned. We saw the example of Sugriva whose misstatement was unintentional and not harmful in any manner. We also considered the denial of Vaidehi on her knowledge of the identity of Maruti.

We also considered the peculiar circumstances that do not allow us to hold the truth of the statement of Dharmaputra – even though he did not utter falsehood – because though the information given was true, it was not the one that was asked for. Acharya Drona wanted to know whether his son was alive or not. Of course, it is true that Lord Krishna masterminded the statement and sounded his conch at the right time so that the last word in the statement could not be heard. ‘Aswathama was killed – an elephant by that name.’
It is only natural that people get agitated when the balance is held against such a great soul as Yudhishthira and the reader who has expressed his view that Dharmaputra uttered that statement as insisted by the Lord, is right of course. But please remember. The characters in the great epics are just men and women like any of us. They had the same kind of strengths and weaknesses as anyone of us. When each and every character is held under the magnifying glass, one would realise that there is not a single character that is a hero one-hundred percent or a villain and villain alone, one-hundred percent. Every character had its own portion of forte and foible built into it. In fact, if one thinks over, it is the broader and stronger portion of a sword that is known as forte and the sharp and relatively weaker portion which is known as foible. Both are parts of the same sword!

Why then is Dharmaputra and his brothers are celebrated? That is because they stuck to what is right in the most difficult circumstances in life and did not move away from that position, mostly. Mostly. ‘guNam naadi,’ said Valluvar. ‘Weigh the merits,’ kutramum naadi’ and look for flaws at the same time. ‘avatruL migai naadi,’ and balance between the two; judge for yourself which is comparatively more. ‘mikka koLal.’ And classify straight and crooked on the basis of that which is high. What we are doing is exactly that. We do look at the side that is popularly known and also at the side that is not so very well known – or glossed over.

I feel that this should be mentioned here and now. Under no circumstance I try accuse Yudhishthira. Similarly, I did not underrate Karna when I related him with Sikhandi. (See: Thus can I be killed) Angry voices were heard in private for that remark. Let this be known. It is my strong belief that every character in the epic has its own importance, its strengths and its weaknesses. In fact that it is built with the materials available on earth – and not out of it – is what makes the epic unique and makes us turn to it for drawing parallels to the events in our lives and look for inspiration, if not guidance. The wicked Duryodhana was not a person without good qualities and the son of Dharma, Yudhisthira was not without weaknesses. ‘nIdhith tharumanum sUdhil anbuLOn,’ observes Subramania Bharati, who was well versed in the original. ‘Even Dharma the wise has his love for the dice.’

Karna, as I have been stressing time and again, is a peculiar mix of the extremes. The very best and also the badest. When I say that, I say so dispassionately. If he is known for his unhesitating charity, it is because Villi Bharatam in Tamil depicts him that way. Vyasa shows him undertaking a vow of charity just a year before the commencement of war. ‘Until the day I kill Arjuna,’ he vows in the Durbar of Duryodhana, ‘I will give away, to whoever it is, anything that is asked for from me.’ Therefore, as far as Mahabharata of Vyasa is concerned, the quality of liberal charity in Karna is, strictly speaking, not inborn as it is depicted in the Tamil version. I had even had occasion to mention that Vyasa brands Karna as one among the ‘evil four’ ‘dhusta-chadhushtra’. (See: Achievements and Announcements)

The lie for his education, the falsehood that he uttered to his master for the first of all the errors – intended and unintended, innocent and not so innocent – that he committed. It so happened that at the last phase of his training, his guru Parasurama slept on his lap. A bee bore through his thigh and Karna bled. But bore the pain and did not stir. The guru was woken up by the warmth of the liquid flowing from the wound.

‘You told me that you are a Brahmin,’ he looked at Karna with askance. ‘No. Only a Kshatriya can accept and bear pain of this kind. You cannot be a Brahmin,’ he accused, his anger against the race of Kshatriyas flared up from its embers in his heart. Parasurama seems to be right, if one takes into consideration that Rama was sleeping in the laps of Sita when Kakasura pecked at her breasts and she was bleeding, but did not stir, in order not to wake up her Lord.

‘I beg your pardon Sir,’ Karna pleaded and fell at the feet of his master. He explained his position. He was not a Brahmin of course; but he did not have any information about his birth that pointed to the fact that he was a Kshatriya.

Where does Karna stand now?

We were discussing the lie that Karna uttered to his master Parasurama in order to learn what his heart ached for, where his passion drove him, namely, archery. Karna had approached Acharya Drona for the purpose. We saw that Acharya Drona sent him back because he had his own preferences in the selection of his students. He went by the family to which the student belonged. He was particular that the art of archery should be taught to Kshatriyas and Brahmins alone.

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Parasurama

While it is true that Brahmins were not known soldiers, nevertheless there is plenty of evidence that many of them were trained in the art of archery - dhanur veda - and Acharya Drona was not an exception. Parasurama had mastered the art. I am not going into the caste system now. I would prefer to keep away from a discussion on the system. Nonetheless, I would like to state just this in as much as it is required for the present context.

The system seems to have been practised in a different manner in the beginning. Speaking of the birth of sage Jamadagni, the father of Parasurama, Srimad Bhagavata Mahapurana says Sage Rcika married Satyavati, the daughter of Gadhi. Now, Gadhi was the father of King Kausika, who was known later as Viswamitra. Wedded to Gadhi, the princess Satyavati is identified as a Brahmin. I quote this Sloka from discourse XV, Book 9 of Srimad Bhagavata. “Entreated by his wife (Satyavati) as well as his mother-in-law, each of whom was desirous of (having) a son, he prepared a Caru (an oblation of rice) barley a pulse boiled with butter and milk for presentation to the gods), uttering both kind of Mantras (those invoking the birth of a Brahmana for his wife and that of a Kshatriya for his mother-in-law) and went out to bathe.” (Sloka 8)

Complications arise when Satyavati mistakenly consumes the Caru prepared for her mother and her mother takes what is meant for Satyavati. The story is a little long and we will see it perhaps in one of our later discussions. Let us, for the present, stop with saying that Acharya Drona was not an exception who had learnt an art that is reserved for Kshatriyas. In fact, Acharya Kripa, brother-in-law of Drona had mastered it. Kripa learnt the art from his father, Saradvan.
Karna was disappointed that a factor over which he had no control stood between him and the achievement of his goal. The unfortunate lad decided to reach his goal somehow. Obviously, the boy wanted to learn from the best in the trade. There were other teachers around, considering the fact that the Pandavas received their training - when Pandu was alive and they were residing in the jungle - from a hunter by name Sura.

That took Karna to Parasurama, a known annihilator of Kshatriyas. Going by the story of Parasurama given in the Bhagavata Mahapurana, one can see that he was not against all - repeat - all Kshatriyas. “His having to accept the murder of his father had been the cause that led to the twenty one times over wiping off of the earth of all the royal class whenever they acted badly.” (Srimad Bhagavata Mahapurana, Book IX, Discourse 16, Sloka 18). The fact that Bhishma was his student confirms the fact that he made no invidious distinctions in the choice of his students. But poor Karna could not see this or realise it. The image of Parasurama as the one who created Samantha-panchaka - lakes of Kshatriya blood was too large for the boy to see beyond. Therefore, as far as Karna was concerned, that lie was justified. With no one to guide him, he thought that it would be condoned.

But Parasurama did not look at it that way. He looked at it as an act of cheating. Even if Karna was not aware of his birth, he should have let him know of that fact instead of receiving training from him, on the claim of his being a Brahmin. ‘Satya is to be upheld by everyone and a Kshatriya has a higher responsibility in adhering to Truth. I have every reason to believe that you are a Kshatriya. You uttered a lie to your Master when you sought his training. Even if it is agreed that you have no information on your birth, you should not have made a false claim when you sought to be trained. And therefore, I curse you now. The art that you learned from me would fail you at the time of need. You will forget the use of the art when you need it most.’ We will have to go into the story of Parasurama to understand what this lie meant to him. We will pursue that course in our next installment.

That curse of Parasurama was one of the factors that played a vital role in the defeat of Kaurava army. But it cannot be said that it was a major factor, because the support of Karna was not available till the fall of Bhishma. That was a result of a personality-clash and Karna’s failure to realise that a personal reason should not be allowed to affect the interests of his bosom friend and benefactor, when he needed his services very badly.

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Dharma Sankatam

‘Dharma sankatam’, we murmur to ourselves when there is a problem and the alternatives that we have oppose each other or at least have one kind of setback or the other that makes it not totally desirable. It is a difficult situation to decide the course of action. ‘It is my fate that I am pushed into this kind of situation,’ we mumble in self-pity. However, this is not an unusual kind of situation. Dharma sankatam or dilemmas do occur to people in all walks of life. Here is one that Arjuna faced and let’s see how he handled the situation.

The Pandavas had established their own kingdom. Theirs was the most desirable leadership. They were readily accessible to the last citizen in the land. It so happened that a few hooligans had broken into the cowshed of a Brahmin and had taken the few cattle that he had away. The Brahmin, who was helpless, ran to the palace of Kandavaprastha, stood at the doorsteps and cried for the help of Pandavas from there.

‘It is the duty of a king to save whoever is in distress, especially so when he gets one-sixth of one’s income as tax. A king who does not respond to his subject when in distress inherits nothing but hell.

My cattle are my only assets and I cannot pursue my dharma without them. It is your duty to protect me O Pandavas! Get my cattle back to me from the thieves,’ he pleaded. Arjuna heard these words and rushed to the Brahmin. ‘Do not worry. I am here to protect you. I will see to it that you get back your cattle,’ he calmed the Brahmin down.

But there was a problem. Yudhisthira and Draupadi were alone in the royal chamber in which Arjuna’s weapons were kept. When the five brothers married Draupadi, they had agreed among themselves that privacy should be respected absolutely. None of them should on any account enter a chamber when any one of them is alone with Draupadi. And any violation is to be atoned by a self-exile for one year, observing continence. Arjuna needed his weapons now. There could be no delay, for the thieves might disappear with the loot. He could not enter the room to retrieve his weapons for that would amount to violation of privacy.

Arjuna thought for a while. ‘A while’ here, is not more than a split second. ‘It is my first duty to serve my subject. I cannot allow any delay in that. If that leads me into trouble, well, let me accept it,’ he decided. He could have sent a battalion of warriors instead. But he felt that it was his personal responsibility now and he did not want to assign it to anyone else. He covered his face with a piece of cloth and entered the room with his head bent downwards to the ground. Quickly explaining the situation to Yudhisthira, without looking in their direction, he took his weapons and rushed out to chase the thieves.

It is not necessary to say that Arjuna retrieved the cattle and restored them to the Brahmin. After successful completion of his mission he came back to the palace, fell at the feet of Yudhisthira and sought his permission to go on exile for a year.

‘It was no fault of yours,’ said Yudhisthira. ‘You were necessitated to violate our agreement in the discharge of your duties. I see your reason. You need not undertake this exile,’ he told Arjuna overwhelmed by his fine gesture, affection, concern and what not!
‘Brother, it is you who taught me dharma,’ said Arjuna firmly. ‘I will not swerve from the path of rectitude for any reason. And I know that you will not want me to fail in honouring my words. Kindly allow me to go,’ he pleaded and took leave of them.

Arjuna lived in self-exile for a year. It was a pilgrimage in which he went around holy shrines, had a dip in holy rivers and performed what was right and proper. Only good results await persons whose minds are set in dharma. That exile of Arjuna was no exception. Let’s see them later.

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The Eight Limbs of Wisdom

When the Pandava brothers were preparing themselves to leave for their life in the jungle, having lost in a game of dice with the Kauravas, a lot of Brahmins and other wise men wanted to follow them and live with them. Dharma Putra was depressed at the thought of taking these with them for he was worried about their having to suffer the hardships of life in forest.

Saunaka, one of the wisest of those who wanted to accompany them and live with them in the jungle convinced Raja Dharma Putra. ‘Only fools are affected by happiness or sorrow and similar other emotions. The wise are untouched by them. You should not be worried about the difficulties that may befall us when we come with you.

‘Rajan, wisdom is one whole body and has eight limbs. Listen to me. You are endowed with this jnana with ashta-anga or eight-limbed wisdom. The first limb is the desire to listen. The second one is listening. Absorption, retention, inference, identifying what is not right from what has been listened to and circumventing it, understanding the essence and assimilation of the fact are other six limbs.

It sounds a little curious when Saunaka makes a distinction between ‘desire to listen’ and ‘listening.’ But on reflection, it can be understood that out of millions of people, only several thousands have the first limb of wisdom, ‘desire to listen.’ Out of these only a few hundreds actually listen. Others simply do not have time! They have one or the other excuse for not listening and taking their desire one step further. But even if a person moves towards ‘listening’ he would have attained only one limb of the whole thing known as wisdom. There are a hundred thousand distractions that divert the attention of the supposed ‘listener’ when listening. Very few people ‘absorb’ what they listen. Out of these, fewer still ‘retain’ what they listened and absorbed the other day.

These limbs are something similar to the various limbs that go to make one digestive system. The function of the first four limbs – that is, desire to listen, listening, absorbing and retaining – have now taken the ‘food’ to the stomach. The process of assimilation starts just at this moment. It is the limb known as ‘inference’ that breaks the hard outer shell of the food, saturate it with enzymes and enable the absorption of only what is right and eliminating what is not. The person then acquires the sixth limb of wisdom. It is only when the person understands the essence and ‘internalises’ it (in today’s language, or ‘assimilates’ as Mahabharata calls it) that he or she can be considered to be endowed with wisdom.

Saunaka does not say that the above are eight steps to wisdom. He says that they are the eight limbs of wisdom. It therefore explains beyond doubt that a person does not move from one stage to the other in the attainment of wisdom. Instead, it is a continuing process, which makes the person richer to the extent he uses the eight limbs of wisdom regularly and effectively.

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Killing anger is the key

Markandeya, who visited Yudhisthira in the jungle narrated him many tales to strengthen the psyche of the king in exile. One such was that of Kausika, the widely read Brahmin.
Kausika was well-versed in Vedas and was performing all rituals as stipulated in the Holy Books. That had endowed him with special powers that he was not aware of himself. One day when he was meditating under a tree, the dropping of stork fell on him. Kausika looked at it angrily and it dropped dead the heat of his gaze. Kausika realised the power that he had acquired and that made him proud.

Time rolled on. Kausika had forgotten this incident. He was pursuing his quest, surviving on food that the villagers gave him. One such day, he reached a village and was waiting at the doorsteps for the lady of the house to bring food. Just at that time the husband of the lady entered the house and was hungry. The lady stopped all the other things that she was doing and attended to her husband.

It was getting late and Kausika’s patience was waning. His anger reached its peak when the lady arrived with food. ‘You have made me wait for a very long time,’ he chided her. The lady apologised and explained the situation. ‘You may have a hundred things on hand. Delaying the service to Sadhus like me is nothing but sheer disrespect. You don’t know the powers we have. Our anger would turn the world to ashes,’ he snarled.

The lady smiled. ‘I have my priorities as a housewife. It is necessary for me to do them in the order in which I have to do them. You are no doubt important as a Sadhu. But when coming to attending you and my husband, he gets the natural priority over you. I observed my dharma. But please understand that your fiery looks can do nothing. I am not a stork after all, to fall burnt and dead,’ she said calmly.

Kausika was taken aback. This was an incident that took place in a jungle, years back. Nobody else even knew that. How did this woman come to know of this!

‘No doubt you are very well-read,’ she continued. ‘But you have not overcome your anger. While you think that your anger can burn the world, it actually eats away whatever good you have acquired. You have a lot more to learn. Go to Dharma Vyadha of Mithila who will instruct you further.’

Kausika realised the necessity of overcoming anger. And he also saw the power of a person who sticks to his or her dharma.

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The Brahmin who learnt from a Butcher

Markandeya continued to narrate to Yudhishthira the story of Kausika who was advised to approach Dharma Vyaadha of Mithila for his learning. Kausika proceeded to Mithila. He made enquiries there and had no difficulty in finding his place, as he was very popular there. But he didn’t expect that he would be taken to a butcher’s shop!

Dharma Vyadha was a butcher by birth. Kausika reached the butchery where deer and buffalo meat were on display. The place was full of puddles of blood, streaming down in all directions, with a strong smell of freshly killed animals, their hides and flesh filling the air. Lot of people have gathered around to buy meat and Dharma Vyadha was busy attending to them. He was informed that Kausika has come to see him.

Kausika, who was not used to this environment, could not stand there. The sight of flesh and blood was not part of his world. He stood there, nonetheless, eager to see Vyadha and also curious about what this butcher could teach him, a Brahmin, who was supposed to know much better. Vyadha came to him, greeting him warmly. ‘I am a hunter my lord! What can I do for you? I presume that you have been directed to meet me by the lady of the village over there.’

‘That’s my surprise number two!’ muttered Kausika to himself. The surprise that the village housewife gave him when she very casually told him, ‘I am not a stork to be burnt to ashes,’ was still fresh in his memory.

Vyaadha then sent Kausika to his house and joined him later after finishing his duties. His house was very clean and his aged parents greeted Kausika. ‘My parents are the Gods that I worship,’ said Dharma Vyaadha. ‘Service to them is my puja. A man should render service and satisfy his father, mother, Agni, Self and Guru. These five are the most important in life. These five are his masters. This is the first of duties for a householder,’ Vyaadha said. ‘It is because of this service that I could sense that you were sent here by that housewife and it was because of this that she could get to know what you did to the stork.’

Kausika learnt all that he needed from his sacred master, Dharma Vyaadha.
What Vyaadha taught Kausika is the basic teaching of all our books. “The chief (duty of the householder),” says Thiruvalluvar, “is to preserve the five-fold rule (of conduct) towards the manes, the Gods, his guests, his relation and himself.”

தென்புலத்தார் தெய்வம் விருந்தொக்கல் தானென்றாங்கு

ஐம்புலத்தாறு ஓம்பல் தலை.
                                                                                 ( குறள் 43)

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A morsel too much

Sage Dhurvasa, known for his anger and instant curses visited Duryodhana, when Pandavas were serving their exile in the jungle. It is said that Dhurvasa had a peculiar boon that increased his yogic power instead of diminishing it, every time he cursed and therefore the sage was doubly happy in cursing people all around, at the least little opportunity. Duryodhana was afraid of the sage and personally supervised the arrangements at his palace and saw to it that the sage was not inconvenienced in any way and satiated him in every respect. Dhurvasa was stayed with him for several days and was immensely pleased with Duryodhana. ‘Ask me whatever you want my dear boy and I will grant your wish. But remember. What you ask for should be strongly backed by Dharma. I won’t support anything that does not fit in with this condition.’

Duryodhana was cleverer and more cunning than the sage could have thought. He wanted to use this opportunity to create trouble for Pandavas. He knew that the sage would not approve of it if his wish were presented blandly. He carefully rephrased his desire. ‘Revered Sir!’ he joined his palms and bowed before him. ‘I am honoured by your visit. It is not given to everyone to receive great sages of your stature. I wish my elder brother Yudhishthira is also blessed with the privilege of playing host to you. They are all spending their time in the jungle, leading a saintly life. Just only one request. My brother and my sister-in-law are living in the forest and therefore they cannot remain hungry for a long time. Please therefore go to him after everyone of them have had their meal and my sister-in-law also eats.’

The sage was happy at this request. After all, Duryodhana is not that bad! He wants his brother to be privileged and be blessed by his visit! And he did not even ask for a boon for his own sake! He agreed to do so and left for the jungle where Pandavas had camped.

There was a reason behind this request. When Pandavas started their period of exile, on the advice of their guru, Dhaumya, Yudhishthira prayed to Surya and was blessed with a wonderful vessel. ‘You can use this for twelve years,’ said Surya. ‘This would give an endless supply of food of innumerable variety until Draupadi had her meal for the day. That would be the last meal supplied from this akshaya patra, he had told Yudhishthira.

That day, all the Pandavas and the sages and others who were living with them had their meal and Panchali also had hers. She washed the vessel when Dhurvasa walked in with ten thousand of his disciples. ‘I am very hungry Dharmaputra! Make our food ready!’ he told Yudhishthira even before he could finish his welcome and other formalities. ‘There is a river close by, revered Sir. Have your wash and come back. I shall see to it that your meal is kept ready by that time.’

Draupadi was in trouble. She did not quite know how to prepare food for such a large number of guests. And that too this sage was known for his anger. She could not let her husbands down. She was in tears and prayed to Krishna to pull her out of this crisis. Krishna appeared before her.

‘I am hungry my sister,’ he proclaimed. ‘I need something to eat. Bring me anything that you can give me. Quick. I cannot bear this hunger a second more!’ he told her, hiding his mischievous smile. ‘Krishna! Krishna! My brother! I needed your help to tide over a crisis because I was foolish enough to finish my food just now, not anticipating the arrival of so many guests. They will be back any moment now. And you are arriving from nowhere and asking for food. O what can I do!’ Draupadi wept bitterly. A situation that made her not able to provide a hungry guest with food was unknown to that Maharani.

‘Bring that vessel, my darling sister, my Krishnai!’ urged Krishna. Draupadi, who was known as Krishnai for she was a black-beauty, fetched the akshaya paatra. There, under the rim of the vessel was a speck of food and a tiny piece of spinach that had escaped the attention of Panchali while cleaning the vessel. Krishna took those in his hand. ‘Let this appease the hunger of all. Let this satiate everyone,’ he said and ate them gladly and belched.

He summoned Bhima then. ‘Go to the river and bring our guests here,’ he said. Draupadi was overtaken by shame that Krishna ate what remained in the vessel, that too, that which was there because the vessel was not washed properly. Now she was shocked and alarmed at the very thought of the sage returning.

But the sage and the ten thousand of his disciples for some strange and unknown reason felt their tummies full. A single morsel more and that would kill them, they felt. And they saw Bhima approaching! ‘What can we do now! They would have prepared food for all of us. If it goes waste, the Pandavas would not pardon us. And look here who is coming! This fellow is too hard to be stopped!’ So saying Dhurvasa and his disciples vanished in a jiffy from that place.

Who could have been happier than Draupadi that day!

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Not Frailty, Fortitude thy name is woman…

Harassment of women has quite a long history. And the result of this kind of harassment has been uniform, as all our epics show. This was precisely what Ravana did, when Sita was alone at home, talking lewdly, boasting of his valour and the rich treasure and power that he enjoyed and asking her to live with him as her wife, instead of wasting her youth in ‘poverty’ with a useless husband.
Draupadi met with a similar situation. When they were spending their exile in the forest, their spiritual master, Dhaumya, wanted to organise for feeding the Brahmins. The Pandavas had gone out in all directions to collect all that was required for the event. Jayadratha, King of Sindhu was travelling through that forest, on his way to the kingdom of Salva.
Draupadi had just had her bath and was standing there with one end of her saree tied to the branch of a tree and the other end wrapped just once around her, in order to dry it in the air. Jayadratha saw her. Draupadi, known as Krishnai, was a black beauty and the posture of her was enough for him to lose his mind and wisdom at the same time. There is nothing wrong in falling in love with someone. But the person should be wise enough to retrace his steps when he comes to know the truth if the other person is married and is comfortably settled.
That was what Jayadratha precisely did not do. He sent his friend, king Kotikasya, to speak on his behalf. Kotikasya went close to Draupadi and sought information on her. Adjusting her saree, Draupadi answered that she was the wife of Pandavas and requested him to wait for their arrival back from hunting so that they would receive both he and his friend, Jayadratha and their coterie. Kotikasya took the information back to Jayadratha. But Jayadratha did not belong to that cadre of chivalrous men. He did not realise that it is part of manliness to show respect to women and observing restraint and eschewing obnoxious ways when speaking to them, especially a woman who is married.

He entered the hermitage of Pandavas and addressed Draupadi. Once again the same kind of dialogues that Ravana spoke to Sita was re-enacted. ‘Why are you wasting your youth in this forest? What have your husbands given to you? Poverty, a life in a hut and in jungle and nothing more. Discard them. Come with me and get into my chariot. Be mine. Be my queen and rule a vast territory, the country of Sindhu.’ The same dialogues continue to ring even to this day wherever there is a woman – more so if she happens to be beautiful – who is in difficulties and who is pressured with problems.

Yielding to such temptations was not in the blood of Draupadi. She could not even think of a life without Pandavas. She advised Jayadratha in a very gentle manner to do what is just and right. Jayadratha kept on insisting. Draupadi then decided to prolong their conversation, just to delay him till the arrival of Pandavas. ‘You don’t know the privileges of kings,’ said Jayadratha. ‘They are not restrained by any rules. Kings have the right to enjoy diamonds and women, no matter in whose possession they are,’ he said. Draupadi grew angry at this.

The conversation suddenly heated up. Jayadratha decided to use force and pulled her by her pallo, the upper portion of the saree that covered her breasts. Draupadi, being a physically strong lady, retaliated and pushed him down. But soon Jayatradha overpowered her and took her in his chariot.

Pandavas heard what happened to Draupadi and followed the chariot, picking up the track and the footprints of the army. They soon reached the army. In a few minutes, the entire army bowed down to the archery of Arjuna and the mace of Bhima.

Bhima decided to kill Jayatradha at that very spot. But Yudhisthira stopped him for the simple reason that Jayatradha was their sister’s husband. He was the husband of Dussala, the youngest of Kauravas and the only sister of the Kauravas hundred and Pandavas five. Jayadratha was warned. His head was shaved and he was left free to go about with five tufts.

But such men do not realise their fault. They go about fuming and roaring and wait for an opportunity to assuage their anger in one way or the other. This anger, this wound, turned into a matter of revenge later. Jayadratha was fundamentally responsible for situations that led to the killing of Abhimanyu, in the war. And the war – even when Pandavas were prepared to give up – commenced basically due to one woman, Draupadi.

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Appearance may hide greatness

When in exile, the Pandavas undertook a pilgrimage to Mount Kailaas. There, in a jungle where they stayed, Draupadi found a flower of extraordinary beauty and fragrance. It was a rare variety known as sowgandhika that bloomed only in the garden of Kubera. She took it to Bhima and asked him to fetch more such flowers for her. He took scent of the flower and went in search of it
Hanuman was residing there, on the path that led to the garden of Kubera, chanting the name of Rama. He saw the approaching Bhima and understood who he was. He was worried that Bhima would invite trouble by entering the garden of Kubera. He stretched down there under a tree with his tail lying across the path in which Bhima was coming.

Bhima could not recognise Hanuman. When he saw this old monkey lying there with his tail across the path he became wild and shouted haughtily at the monkey to take its tail off from the path, as he was not supposed to walk over it. ‘Know that I am Bhima, the son of Wind and brother of Hanuman the most valiant,’ he announced. ‘I am too old,’ responded Hanuman feebly. ‘I lack the strength even to move my tail. You are young and sturdy. Why can’t you take it and move it aside yourself?’ he teased.
Bhima’s pride was touched to the quick. It was an insult. An old monkey, asking him to touch its tail and move it aside too! That would mean that he takes orders from a monkey! ‘Whom did you think you are speaking to?’ he roared and bragged about his strength and recounted how his brother jumped across the ocean. ‘I will kick you aside in a trice,’ he threatened. ‘I don’t know all that,’ mumbled Hanuman weakly. ‘Please move my tail aside, if you don’t want to jump over it.’

Bhima pushed it aside lightly. He couldn’t. He tried using all his strength, sweating it out. Nothing happened. Overcome by shame, he stood with folded hands before ‘the monkey’ accepting his defeat. How thrilled was he, when Hanuman told who he was! Hanuman then showed him his viswaroopa, guided him on how to get the flower and promised to be with them when the war started, residing in the flag of Arjuna.

Bhima learnt one important lesson that day. Never to underestimate the other person, going by the appearance.

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The Lord is my shepherd

Where does strength lie? Wherefrom does one get his real support? Who is the real support? Who is that on whom one can lean on in times of difficulty? Well, different people perceive this differently. A person who is at ease with himself – apart from the fact that he or she is skilled and self-confident – places his trust on the Lord. He leaves it to Him, just restricting him to doing his own duty.

Both the sides started making preparations for the war, much before Duryodhana was even asked to return the land. Yudhisthira, while sending emissaries, was also annexing the support of various kings. He knew how Duryodhana would react and yet he wanted to give peace an opportunity. Both, the Pandavas and the Kauravas, realised that they should have the support of Krishna. And both were keen in getting it from him. While Krishna was fond of Arjuna, his elder brother Balarama was very much fond of his disciple, Duryodhana. It was from Balarama that Duryodhana improved his skills with the mace that he picked up from Acharya Drona.

It was with this intention that Duryodhana entered the palace of Krishna. But the Lord the Omniscient, was enjoying a nap that afternoon. He knew that Duryodhana was coming to him and he also knew that Arjuna was also coming to him on the same day, to seek his help. He had so arranged that two royal chairs were placed close to his bed. He could have placed them side by side, close to each other, as it is normally done. Instead, he had arranged to place one at the headboard side, just behind it and the other close to his feet.

Duryodhana, who had heard that Arjuna had already left to annex the support of Krishna, reached the palace of the Lord by the quickest of transport and he arrived before Arjuna. He entered the bedchamber of Krishna and saw the arrangement. He could not think of taking his seat close to the feet of Krishna. He preferred to sit in the other chair at the headboard side. Arjuna entered minutes later and he saw the available chair. It was his pleasure to take his humble seat, close to the feet of his friend, philosopher and guide and he sat there.

Krishna, who quite knew what was happening around him, opened his eyes. Naturally, his eyes fell on Arjuna who was seated at his feet. Exchanging pleasantries with him, he turned his head to see Duryodhana. ‘What brings both of you here!’ he exclaimed. ‘I am your relative, as does Arjuna,’ said Duryodhana. He likes to take advantage of the lamest of excuses. Krishna was more related to Arjuna. Kunti, the mother of Pandavas, was the elder sister of Vasudeva, father of Krishna – before she was given in adoption to Kuntibhoja and thus is the aunt of Krishna. Krishna smiled. He knew what Duryodhana meant.

‘Yes. I will be fair to both of you,’ he said. ‘I place myself on one side. I will not fight. I won’t even touch any kind of weapon. And I place my vast army composed of matchless warriors on the other side. Now you can choose anyone of the two. As the person who was seen by me first, and as the younger of you two, Arjuna gets the first preference to express his choice,’ he smiled.
Duryodhana was startled. ‘Of what use is this man!’ he thought. ‘He says he would not fight and not touch any weapon. What can anyone do with him in a war! I need the army and that is the practical thing a wise king would ask for. But this fellow has so very cunningly given the first right of choice to Arjuna. I don’t know what he is going to do!’

Arjuna joined his palms. His prayer, like the prayer of Tagore, was very simple. “That I want thee, only thee – let my heart repeat without end. All desires that distract me, day and night, are false and empty to the core.” Krishna smiled. Did he not know what he would ask? Duryodhana happily walked with an army of several lakhs of valiant soldiers, ‘A fool, stout fool,’ he thought of Arjuna. ‘Let him have his single and non-fighting ally. I have the richest of army in the world now, with the addition of Narayana Sainya.’
‘Why did you choose me, Arjuna?’ Krishna laughed. ‘I am not going to fight, after all!’ ‘May you be with me, Krishna! May you be my charioteer. Let me do my duty. I give the reins in your hands. Guide me Master, guide me my lord!’ he pleaded with joined palms and tears in his eyes.

And we know whose choice was right!