novelraw Arc 1 - Saṃjaya-yāna Parava Chapter 6 - Sañjaya’s Arrival
Arc 1 - Saṃjaya-yāna Parava Chapter 6 - Sañjaya’s Arrival
Vaiśampāyana said:
Having heard the command of king Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Sañjaya, the wise son of Gāvalgaṇa, set forth upon his chariot toward the city of Upaplavya, where the sons of Pāṇḍu, radiant with strength and splendour, were encamped with their allies. Reaching the royal pavilion of Yudhiṣṭhira, son of Dharma, Sañjaya entered, bowed deeply, and stood with joined palms before the king who shone like Indra amid the Maruts.
With cheerful words and courteous bearing, Sañjaya spoke:
“O son of Kuntī, how blessed is this day that I behold thee again, surrounded by thy brothers and friends, resplendent like Śakra among his gods. The aged monarch Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the son of Ambikā, ever mindful of thee, inquires with affection after thy welfare. He asks also after Bhīmasena the mighty, after Dhanañjaya of unmeasured energy, and after the twin sons of Mādrī, Nakula and Sahadeva, brave and steadfast. And he asks too of Kṛṣṇā Draupadī, daughter of Drupada—chaste, steadfast, and of great energy—she who is the joy of your hearts and the guardian of your honour. Is she well, O king, with her sons, the young lions born of heroes?”
Yudhiṣṭhira, hearing these gentle words, rose and embraced the messenger of peace. “O Sañjaya,” he said, “thy journey here, I trust, has been safe and swift. The sight of thee brings to mind the face of the old king himself; so great is my joy in seeing thee again. We are well, by thy grace and the mercy of the gods. Tell me, O learned one, of the welfare of the Kurus. Does our grandsire Bhīṣma yet live in the full vigour of his vows, he whose wisdom guides all, whose strength protects the weak? Is the king Dhṛtarāṣṭra himself in health, surrounded by his sons? Does the venerable Vāhlīka, son of Pratīpa, still dwell in peace and learning?”
He spoke slowly, his voice warm with memory:
“And what of Droṇa, preceptor of princes,
And of his son, the lion-hearted Aśvatthāman?
What of Kṛpa, the ever-vigilant sage,
And of Somadatta and Bhūriśravā,
Heroes whose valour fills the courts of heaven?
Do these mighty bowmen, masters of the Vedas,
Still dwell in strength and honour among the Kurus?”
Yudhiṣṭhira continued, “And say, O Sañjaya, how fares Yuyutsu, the wise and righteous son born of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s Vaiśya queen? Is Karṇa well—he of fierce words and fiercer vows—whose counsels rule my cousin’s mind? And what of the aged ladies of Hastināpura, the mothers and grandmothers of our race? Are the daughters-in-law and the young princes in peace? Does Dhṛtarāṣṭra still maintain the Brahmanas in their due honour? I hope that the gifts I made of old have not been withdrawn by the Kauravas, for when charity is restrained, righteousness itself decays.
‘When Brahmanas are wronged,
The roots of heaven wither;
Their anger is flame unseen
That scorches the world of kings.’
“Let Dhṛtarāṣṭra, therefore, protect them still, even when they speak with pride or demand with vehemence, for their words, though sharp, preserve the path of dharma. If the sons of Kuru forget reverence for such men, ruin shall overtake them as shadow follows light.
And what of the ministers of state, O Sañjaya? Do the Kurus heed their counsel? Are there not among them hidden foes disguised as friends? I trust no such serpent has coiled itself in their court, whispering ruin in sweet tones. Tell me also, do Drona, Aśvatthāman, and the noble Kṛpa speak harshly of us? I would not that they should think us guilty of sin, for we have borne much and answered wrong with silence.”
The king’s eyes darkened as he recalled their past humiliation. “Do they remember,” he said, “how in the forest of Dvaitavana, under the pretence of seizing our cattle, they came against us with deceit? Then were they overpowered, but saved by our mercy. Bhīma smote their hosts, and Arjuna, blazing like a fire among dry leaves, scattered them as wind scatters chaff. Do they remember that day when Dhanañjaya emerged unscathed from battle, having strewn the field with the slain, while Bhīma and I guarded his flanks, and Nakula and Sahadeva covered the rear?
‘The Gandiva sang its thunder-song,
Its arrows fell like streams of rain;
The Kurus fled as deer before the storm,
And mercy stayed the hunter’s hand.’
“Do they recall that mercy now?” Yudhiṣṭhira’s voice softened into weary calm. “Do they remember how, bound by oath, we spent thirteen years in exile, bearing hunger and humiliation with patience? And now, even after all that has passed, we seek only what is justly ours.
‘Not by a single virtue is peace attained,
Nor by one gift is heaven won;
The fruit of righteousness ripens slowly,
Yet its root must be watered by truth.’
“If Duryodhana still deems us foes despite all this, then truly no wisdom remains in Hastināpura.”
Thus spoke Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Dharma, his voice steady though his heart was heavy with remembrance. Around him stood the Pāṇḍavas—Bhīma frowning like a thundercloud, Arjuna silent as a drawn bow, and the sons of Mādrī calm yet watchful—while Draupadī, bright as dawn, listened with eyes that glimmered between pride and pain.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Then Sañjaya, the wise and faithful envoy, stood before the sons of Pāṇḍu and bowed once again to Dharmarāja. His voice was calm, and his words well-measured, like one who bears the weight of truth upon his tongue.
“Sire,” said he, “it is even as thou hast spoken. All that thou hast said of the Kurus, of their fortunes and their follies, is true. Thou hast enquired after their welfare, and I bring word that they are well. Those foremost ones among the Kurus, of whom thou hast asked—Bhīṣma, Droṇa, and the others—are free from sickness, and their hearts are steady. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons, too, live in strength and splendour, though surrounded by both the righteous and the unrighteous, the aged and the impetuous.
There are indeed good men about the blind king’s son—men of wisdom and restraint—but there are also those whose hearts are clouded by envy and folly. Yet know this, O Yudhiṣṭhira: Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son is not of such mind as to withhold gifts once granted, even were they offered to an enemy. He would not withdraw his hand from charity to the Brahmanas. For though pride blinds him, he knows the sin of denying alms.”
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Then Sañjaya’s tone deepened, as he spoke words that cut softly, yet struck the truth:
“O sons of kings, ye Kṣatriyas of sharp steel hearts,
Who strike even those that bear you no malice—
Remember, the blade that drinks blood unjustly
Turns red against the hand that wields it.”
“Dhṛtarāṣṭra,” he continued, “would be guilty of great sin were he, like a base man, to nurse hatred against thee who art righteous. The old monarch grieves in secret; I have seen it. His heart burns with sorrow for the wrongs that were done to thee. The Brahmanas have spoken to him of dharma, saying that the greatest of all sins is to sow dissension among kinsmen. Therefore, though his son’s heart is hard, the father’s soul weeps like a river in drought.
He remembers thy valour on the battlefield, O king. He remembers the lightning flight of Arjuna’s arrows, and the roar of Bhīma’s mace when conch and drum rise together to heaven’s pitch. The sons of Mādrī too he recalls—those twin warriors who scatter their shafts like the wind scatters the clouds and know not what fear is. The old king speaks often of these things, his voice trembling like a leaf in storm.”
Then, pausing a moment, Sañjaya said softly:
“Who can foresee the weave of fate?
The wise man suffers, the wicked thrives,
Yet in the end, the crooked thread is burnt—
And virtue, though veiled, outshines the sun.”
“Thy sufferings, O son of Dharma,” he said, “are not fruitless. Though thou hast endured grief beyond measure, thy wisdom will restore all that was lost. For the sons of Pāṇḍu, equal in might to Indra, will never forsake virtue for fleeting pleasure. Thy mind, pure and steadfast, will find the way by which both sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra and sons of Pāṇḍu may dwell in peace, along with the kings assembled here.
Now, O lord of men, listen attentively. I shall tell thee the words which thy sire Dhṛtarāṣṭra spoke to me after counsel with his ministers and sons. Hear them well, for they are laden with both caution and hope.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Sañjaya had taken his seat amidst the gathered kings, Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Dharma, spoke to him gently, his voice calm yet commanding:
“O son of Gavalgana, before thee stand the sons of Pāṇḍu, the kings of the Śṛñjayas, and the Kṛṣṇas of the Vṛṣṇi race. Speak, then, without delay, and tell us all that Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the aged king of the Kurus, has sent thee to say.”
Then Sañjaya rose, bowed to the sons of Kuntī and to Keśava of immeasurable might, and began his message in words filled with earnestness and restraint.
“May Yudhiṣṭhira, Bhīma, and Dhanañjaya be blessed; may the sons of Mādrī, Nakula and Sahadeva, be in happiness; may Keśava, the descendent of Śūra, be in peace; may Sātyaki of the Vṛṣṇi line, and the aged king Drupada, and his son Dṛṣṭadyumna, hear my words spoken for the welfare of all.
King Dhṛtarāṣṭra, eager for peace and mindful of old affection, hastened the harnessing of my chariot that I might come swiftly to you. He seeks reconciliation between the Kurus and the sons of Pṛthā. Let this counsel be acceptable to you, O monarch, whose heart is founded on virtue. Let Yudhiṣṭhira prefer peace to ruin, for peace is the path of dharma, while war, once kindled, devours both right and wrong alike.”
Then Sañjaya, seeing all the princes listening intently, spoke further, his words flowing with calm wisdom.
“The sons of Pṛthā are renowned for their gentleness, their candour, their truth. Born in high lineage, ye are humane and liberal, slow to anger and loath to act unworthily. To men such as you, a sinful act would be as a dark stain on spotless silk.
Why should the pure draw sword for pride?
Why should the noble wade through blood?
Victory and defeat in such a strife—
Both smell alike of death and mud.
Who, knowing the path of righteousness, would choose an act that must bring slaughter to kinsmen, destruction to tribes, and sorrow to the world? Blessed, indeed, are they who serve their kin and uphold their family’s honour even at the cost of life—for life, misused by sin, is worth less than a noble death.
If ye, O sons of Pāṇḍu, should strike down your kindred, what joy would remain? For what is life, O king, after kin are slain and hearts are hollowed by grief?
Who, even if he were Indra himself, could stand against your arms when Keśava is your ally, when Cekitāna and Sātyaki fight beside you, when Dṛṣṭadyumna’s bow is raised in your defence? And who could hope to vanquish the Kauravas, protected by Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kṛpa, Aśvatthāman, Karṇa, and the other lords of earth?
Victory or loss—what profit lies?
When both are flames from kindred pyres?
Peace alone is lasting gain,
For wrath is but the breath of pain.
Therefore, I see no good in war, O scion of Bharata. The sons of Pṛthā cannot, like men of base birth, forsake the way of righteousness. I fall before thee, O Keśava, and before the venerable king of the Pañcālas, and before thee, Yudhiṣṭhira, lord of men. I bow with joined hands and entreat you—let both the Kurus and the Śṛñjayas be preserved!
It is not in the nature of Keśava or Dhanañjaya to disregard words spoken for peace. Both, if asked, would lay down their lives to avert ruin. This I say with the hope that my mission may prosper. For such is the desire of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, and of Bhīṣma his grandsire—that there may be peace between you and the sons of Kuru.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Sañjaya had delivered the words of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Dharma, spoke slowly and gravely, his gaze deep as still water:
“O Sañjaya, what word hast thou heard from me that points toward war? Peace, O wise one, is ever preferable to conflict. Who, having the choice, would wish to fight? It is known to all that if a man might gain his heart’s desire without toil, he would never labour; and if he could live without harm, he would never draw the sword.
For what man, blessed by the gods,
Would choose the dust of battle over the breath of peace?
Who, save one cursed by blindness of soul,
Would thirst for the blood of his own kin?
We, the sons of Pṛthā, seek happiness, but not at the cost of righteousness. Whatever joy we desire is that which is born of dharma, not of greed. The man who runs behind the mirage of pleasure only deepens his thirst; but he who turns away from craving knows no suffering.
Desire is fire—
Feed it, and it burns the hand;
Starve it, and it dies to ash.
Pour clarified butter upon it,
And it leaps skyward to devour its keeper.
Look, O Sañjaya, upon Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s vast prosperity, and then upon our lot—are the two equal? Yet though deprived, we have not let grief enslave us. The king, blinded by love for his son, seeketh protection in the strength of others. But who can protect one that kindleth the fire of his own ruin?
He who strikes a spark in the summer woods,
And fans it with the breath of wind,
Shall see the blaze return upon himself,
And cry too late for mercy.
Why, then, doth Dhṛtarāṣṭra lament? Because he hearkened to the voice of his evil-minded son—Duryodhana, that restless soul whose greed devours wisdom. He turned away from Vidura, that ocean of good counsel, gentle in speech and righteous in act, and listened instead to deceitful tongues.
The old king, longing to please his wayward son, walked knowingly upon the path of adharma. For that one son—
whose heart is crooked,
whose wrath is ever burning,
whose tongue is foul and whose mind delights in sin—
the blind king abandoned both virtue and peace.
Even then, O Sañjaya, when the fatal dice were cast, I foresaw the ruin of the Kurus. For when Vidura’s words, clear as dharma itself, found no ear in Dhṛtarāṣṭra, I knew destruction had entered his house.
When wisdom speaks and fools are deaf,
The fire of fate is already lit.
So long as Vidura guided them, the Kuru realm stood firm; but when envy became their counsellor, ruin took the throne. Now Duryodhana is ruled by Duhśāsana, Śakuni, and Karṇa—men who breathe deceit and drink pride. Tell me, O Sañjaya, what harvest can come of such seed?
Dhṛtarāṣṭra, blinded by attachment, dreams of a sovereignty stretching over all the world. But peace cannot live where greed commands. He deems what he has seized to be his by right, forgetting the fire that waits in Bhīma’s wrath and in Arjuna’s bow.
Does Karṇa think to withstand Pārtha? Many battles have shown his boast to be hollow. All know—Droṇa knows, Bhīṣma knows, and every ruler of the earth knows—that none wields the bow like Arjuna. Duryodhana imagines victory while Arjuna’s bowstring is yet silent. But the moment he hears the twang of Gāṇḍīva, the earth shall tremble beneath his folly.
The sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra live today
Only because my brother’s bow is at rest.
When Bhīma’s breath turns into flame,
Even Indra himself would fear to rob us of our right.
Yet the blind king still believes his sons immortal, though the sons of Pāṇḍu burn with the fire of righteousness. O Sañjaya, thou knowest our suffering, our patience, our forgiveness. For thy sake, I would forgive them all once more.
Let peace prevail, as thou advisest. Let the old accord stand as before. I ask for nothing more than what is mine—
Let Indraprastha be restored to me by Duryodhana,
That we may live without sin, and the earth be spared from blood.”