novelraw Arc 3 - Sanat-Sujata Parva Chapter 8 - Duryodhana’s Arrogance
Arc 3 - Sanat-Sujata Parva Chapter 8 - Duryodhana’s Arrogance
Vaiśampāyana said:
Hearing his father’s words, the passionate son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, whose heart was ever inflamed by envy, could not endure such counsel of peace. Wrath blazed within him like fire kindled by dry grass, and with trembling lips he spoke again, scorched by pride and folly.
“O father,” said he, “thou thinkest the sons of Pṛthā, having the celestials as their allies, are beyond defeat. But cast away this fear, O best of kings! For the gods have no share in human struggle. They became divine by casting off desire and envy, by rising above wrath, covetousness, and the dust of the world.
Did not Vyāsa, Nārada, and Rāma of Jamadagni’s line tell us so?
The gods, O Bharata, act not from craving nor hate; their gaze is ever turned to loftier things. Had Agni, Vāyu, Dharma, Indra, or the Aśvins ever acted from worldly longing, then the sons of Pṛthā would never have known exile or grief.”
“The gods dwell high, aloof, serene,
Beyond all lust or mortal spleen.
Their eyes look not on mortal ground—
They hear not war’s defiant sound.”
“Therefore, O father, dismiss thy fears! The celestials meddle not in deeds of men.
If ever envy or lust arise among them, it dies unborn, quenched by the very law they have ordained.
And as for Agni—whom thou deemest the ally of Arjuna—if he should blaze to consume the world, I can, with my charms and incantations, extinguish him in an instant. Know, O king, that my energy surpasses even that of the gods.
If the earth were to split asunder, or the crests of mountains were to shatter, I could reunite them before all men’s eyes. Should a tempest arise to destroy creation, or stones rain down with thunder’s roar, I can still the storm with my compassion for all beings.
If I will it, waters grow solid beneath the feet of men and armies may march across them. I set in motion, O Bharata, the affairs of gods and Asuras alike. Wherever I go with my countless hosts, my steeds move as I command. Within my dominions there are no venomous serpents, and no creature harms another, for my enchantments guard them all.”
“By word I bind the clouds in place,
By will I calm the roaring sea.
The winds obey my unseen grace—
What god can stand opposed to me?”
“The clouds, O father, pour their rain as my subjects desire, and only when they desire. None in my realm suffers famine or pestilence; all are steadfast in righteousness.
The Aśvins, Vāyu, Agni, Indra with the Maruts, and even Dharma himself—none will protect my foes. For had these deities such power, never would the sons of Pṛthā have endured thirteen years of misery in forest and concealment.
Truly I tell thee, O king—neither gods, nor Gandharvas, nor Asuras, nor Rākṣasas can save him who has incurred my wrath. Never has my resolve failed—whether to reward a friend or destroy an enemy. When I decree a thing, it comes to pass. Therefore am I known among men as one whose word is truth.”
“The word I speak is fate’s decree,
The world must bend, not I, to me.
The might of gods is but a dream—
I am the flood, they but the stream.”
“I do not speak, O king, from pride, but from truth that all men know. My greatness is witnessed by the world; my fame spreads like fire on the wind.
Yet thou shalt soon hear with thine own ears of the ruin of the Pāṇḍavas, the Matsyas, the Pāñcālas, the Kekayas, of Sātyaki and even Vāsudeva—brought low by my hand. For as rivers vanish into the ocean, so shall all these heroes perish when they confront me.”
“Like rivers lost in ocean’s roar,
The sons of Pāṇḍu rise no more.
The wave that bears my chariot’s run
Shall drown their glory, one by one.”
“My intelligence, energy, prowess, and knowledge—all exceed theirs. Whatever weapon-lore abides in the grandsire Bhīṣma, in Droṇa, in Kripa, or in Śalya—all that and more abides in me.
Thus spoke Duryodhana, the deluded prince, his words a flame that scorched wisdom itself. And again, O king, he turned to Sanjaya, eager to know what Yudhiṣṭhira planned, for war already burned in his heart like the fire of dissolution.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
Then, disregarding the counsel of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the son of Vichitravīrya, Karṇa, his eyes flashing like the sun at dawn, turned to Duryodhana and spoke. His words, meant to cheer the spirit of the assembled Kurus, were loud with pride and heat.
“O son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra,” said he, “cast away thy doubt. Let the burden of victory be mine. Once, under disguise, I obtained from Rāma the Brahma-weapon—but when he discovered my deceit, that mighty sage cursed me, saying:
‘When thy fated hour arrives, O Karṇa,
Thy memory shall fail thee in the use of this weapon.’
For such deceit, that great Ṛṣi might have consumed me,
Yet in mercy he spared my life. By valor and humble service I appeased his wrath. The curse was light, and his favor endures. I still retain that weapon; my appointed hour has not yet come.
Therefore, let none fear! The sons of Pṛthā, the Pāñcālas, the Matsyas, and the Karūṣas—all shall fall before me. I shall win kingdoms for thee, O prince, and heap thy throne with the spoils of the earth. Let Bhīṣma, Droṇa, and the other kings remain beside thee; I alone shall go forth with my warriors and sweep away the Pāṇḍavas from the field.”
“Mine is the bow that shall not break,
Mine is the hand that none withstand.
I call on Death himself to wake—
The world shall tremble by my hand.”
Then the grandsire Bhīṣma, calm and terrible as the ocean in moonlight, laughed aloud and said:
“O Karṇa, what folly speakest thou! Thy mind is clouded, for thy destined hour draws near. Knowest thou not that when the chief is slain, all followers perish? Hast thou not heard what Arjuna wrought at Khāṇḍava, when he and Kṛṣṇa burned the forest and vanquished gods and serpents alike?
The weapon which Śakra, the Lord of Heaven, once gave thee shall, when struck by Keśava’s discus, crumble to dust before thine eyes. And that other arrow with the serpentine mouth, which thou worshippest with flowers, shall perish when struck by the shafts of Pārtha—perish with thee, O Karṇa!
Remember, the slayer of Naraka, the destroyer of the demon Vana, Vāsudeva himself, stands beside Arjuna. He who has slain foes greater than thee shall protect the diadem-decked son of Pṛthā.”
“Against that pair of thunder’s might,
What mortal stands, though armed in flame?
Their gaze consumes, their vow is light—
Thy pride, O Karṇa, ends in shame.”
Then Karṇa answered, his voice still proud though shaken slightly by the elder’s thunderous words:
“I know, O grandsire, that Kṛṣṇa is all thou sayest, and more.
Yet hear the fruit of thy harsh speech! I lay down my weapons.
From this day, Bhīṣma shall see me only in the royal court, not on the field of battle. When thou hast had thy fill of war, then shall the rulers of the earth behold my strength.”
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“If mockery be the elder’s due,
Then silence is the younger’s sword.
I bide my time till fate renew—
My wrath shall answer every word.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Having spoken thus, Karṇa, the mighty bowman, rose from the assembly and departed to his own abode in silence. The hall remained heavy with his pride and Bhīṣma’s laughter.
Then Bhīṣma, turning to Duryodhana in the midst of the Kurus, said with a smile:
“How truly doth the Sūta’s son keep his vow! Where now is that bold promise he made before the kings of Avanti, Kaliṅga, Jayadratha, Chedi, and Bālhika—that he would slay enemies by the thousand? Behold, he has withdrawn, leaving his oath unfulfilled.
When Bhīmasena scatters heads like flowers upon the field, who shall then recall Karṇa’s boasting? The very day he deceived his teacher Rāma, pretending to be a Brāhmaṇa, that day he lost his virtue and ascetic power.”
“Falsehood sown on sacred ground
Yields a harvest red with doom.
Pride that mocks the wise is bound—
To bloom in wrath and end in gloom.”
So spoke the grandsire, his words half laughter, half prophecy. And when Karṇa had gone, Duryodhana, his pride wounded and his reason dimmed by wrath, turned once more to the son of Śantanu and addressed him amid the murmuring court.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Then Duryodhana, son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, burning with pride and blinded by envy, rose from his seat and spoke before the assembled Kurus, his words sharp as arrows.
“O grandsire,” said he, “why dost thou hold the sons of Pṛthā as invincible? Are they not born of men, as we are born? Are they not flesh and bone, as we? Why then this ceaseless fear that victory shall be theirs?
We are equal to them in might, in courage, in learning and in age;
Equal in arms, in knowledge, in swiftness of hand, in the art of war.
All of us are of the same race, sons of men alike.
Why then dost thou deem them destined to prevail?”
“Are we not men as they are men,
Of mortal blood and mortal breath?
Shall fear enthrone the sons of Pṛthā—
And yield the Kuru crown to death?”
“I do not seek my purpose through thee, nor through Droṇa, nor Kṛpa, nor Bālhika, nor through these kings assembled here. Myself, Karṇa, and my brother Duḥśāsana shall slay the sons of Pāṇḍu with sharpened arrows.
Then, when their heads are laid low, we shall perform grand sacrifices, offering gifts of gold, kine, and steeds, and reward the Brāhmaṇas. When my warriors seize the sons of Pṛthā—dragging them like deer ensnared in nets—then shall their pride be broken. Even Keśava himself shall taste defeat when he beholds their ruin.”
“As hunters snare the helpless herd,
As whirlpools draw the drifting keel,
So shall we drag the sons of Pṛthā,
Till pride and valor cease to feel.”
Thus spoke Duryodhana, proud as a storm-cloud before it bursts.
And when his words ceased, the court fell into heavy silence, for even folly, when uttered boldly, can still the wise.
Then the venerable Vidura, counsellor of dharma and the quiet voice of truth, rose up, his face calm as still water. Bowing first to the elders, he spoke softly, each word cutting through the tumult like a bell in mist.
“O King,” said he, “the sages of ancient time have declared that self-restraint is the highest virtue of all, and especially the duty of a Brāhmaṇa. He whose restraint guides charity, asceticism, knowledge, and study, wins all rewards—peace, forgiveness, and the fruit of his gifts.
Self-restraint magnifies one’s energy; it is the root of holiness.
He who governs his passions becomes pure, freed from sin;
Through it, one attains even unto Brahman.”
“Restraint is strength, and calm is fire,
It burns not flesh but pride’s desire.
From self-command all virtues spring—
The stillest heart outlasts the king.”
“People fear the unrestrained, as men fear Rākṣasas; and for keeping such in check, the Self-Existent made the Kṣatriya. Yet even the Kṣatriya, O king, must temper power with self-command.
The fruits of self-restraint are many: forgiveness, steadiness of mind, abstention from injury, equality towards all, truth, simplicity, control of senses, patience, gentleness, modesty, contentment, and faith.
He who is restrained casts off lust and avarice, wrath and pride, sleep and vanity, malice and grief. Purity and straightness mark him whose soul is controlled.”
“No greed he knows, no thirst for more,
His heart, unbound, holds endless shore.
Grave as the sea, by knowledge stilled,
In peace he walks—by wisdom filled.”
“He who is satisfied with little, who covets not, who regards not objects of lust, who moves in the world like the deep ocean—he alone is truly wise.
Such a man, well-behaved and contented, knowing his own Self, wins respect in this world and bliss in the next.
Fear he has of none, nor do others fear him; he is the friend of all beings, the refuge of peace.”
“His heart is vast, his will serene,
His joy unshaken, pure, unseen.
He harms no life, no life harms he—
Thus moves the sage in liberty.”
“Those who are self-restrained rejoice even amid sorrow, following the righteous ways of the ancients. And others—who renounce all action through the wisdom of detachment—move unseen like the path of birds in the sky, awaiting only the hour when they merge into Brahman.”
“No path is seen where wisdom flies,
No shadow marks the soul’s release.
He leaves the world, yet not in death—
For knowledge is his final peace.”
Thus spoke Vidura, the far-seeing one, like a lamp lit amidst gathering darkness. But the blind king’s son, intoxicated with power, heard but did not heed. The seeds of ruin had already sprouted in his heart.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Then Vidura, calm as a lake beneath moonlight, rose and spoke to Dhṛtarāṣṭra. With the voice of one who remembers the wisdom of elders, he told two short parables to the king—simple images that cut through pride and fear alike.
“Once,” said he, “a fowler spread his net upon the ground to catch the feathered denizens of the air. By chance two birds, long accustomed to flying together, were caught in that same mesh. Lifting his snare, the fowler watched them soar away, bound together, and he ran after them in hope. An ascetic, returning from his morning devotions, saw the fowler hastening thus and marvelled. Addressing him, the rishi uttered a verse of wonder:
‘Thou, who tread’st the earth with weighing tread,
Pursuest the tenants of the airy blue;
Why chase what wings and wind alone can wed,
When net and ground can never hold their hue?’
The fowler answered, ‘These two, united in flight, bear away my snare. But where they fall to quarrel, there shall I seize them.’
“Soon the two birds—though once bound in companionship—fell to bickering. In their folly they struggled and quarrelled; in that quarrel they fell from the sky into the hands of the fowler. Even thus do kinsmen who fall out for wealth and envy deliver themselves into the enemy’s grasp. Eating together and speaking together are the duties of kinsmen; contention is their ruin. Those kinsmen who serve the aged with loving hearts become as a forest guarded by lions—invincible. Those who, though rich, act meanly and cruelly, make the wealth they possess contribute to the prospering of their foes.
‘Like charred brands that blaze when close,
But only smoke when torn apart—
Kinsmen’s strength in union grows,
In schism falls each brave heart.’
“Again,” Vidura continued, “I saw another thing upon the northern mountain, Gandhamādana, where trees and radiant medicinal herbs clothed the slopes and Siddhas and Gandharvas dwell. Upon a high and inaccessible ledge there lay a jar’s measure of bright yellow honey—Kubhēra’s own delight—guarded by snakes of deadly venom. Said those learned in charms: a mortal who drank would win undying days; the blind would see; the aged would be made young. A troop of hunters and some Brahmanas who had come discoursing on herbs and charms beheld that honey and longed to possess it. But the peril was great; the cave was full of snakes. Pursuing the sweetness, the hunters perished in that deadly hollow.
“In like manner thy son desires to enjoy the whole earth without rival—he sees only the honey, not the precipice that waits. Duryodhana seeks battle with Savyasāchin, yet I see not in him that steadiness or power which will carry him through. Remember the day in Virāṭa: on a single car Arjuna routed hosts; Bhīṣma, Droṇa, and all great men were thrown into dismay. Think on that feat; remember how, while still modest and restrained, he showed might enough to scatter kings.
‘He who in single chariot sped,
Made hosts withdraw and standards bend;
A single bow, a single head,
Can turn strong columns to the wind.’
“Arjuna yet spares thee; he looks up to thy face and waits to see what thou wilt do. Yet if wrath rise, then Drupada, the king of the Matsyas, and Dhananjaya, when roused, will blaze like wind-driven fire and leave no remnant of thy armies. O Dhṛtarāṣṭra, take Yudhiṣṭhira on thy lap—seek peace—lest both sides be drawn into ruin. For when the sovereign will is set upon war, neither party can be sure of victory while thy heart is entangled.”
Thus Vidura spake, and his parables hung in the air like lamps against coming night; yet pride and impatience still stirred about the king’s house.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Then Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the venerable sire whose sight was dark yet whose mind was sharp with care, addressed Duryodhana with a voice like a slow bell—full of warning and fatherly grief. He laid before his son the measure of peril in plain speech, reminding him that the house of Kuru stood upon more than pride and prowess; it stood upon dharma and wise counsel.
“Hear,” said the king, “O Duryodhana, and take to heart what I say. Thou art like an ignorant traveller who mistakes a crooked path for the straight—so dost thou err in choosing war against the sons of Pṛthā. These five are not mere princes; they are like the five subtle elements that sustain heaven and earth. Without a sacrifice of thy very life, thou canst not hope to overthrow Yudhiṣṭhira, Kunti’s son, who is foremost among men in virtue and in steadiness.
Alas, thou girdest thyself against Bhīmasena, who has no equal in might among men and who stands like Yama in battle. What man of sense will meet him in single combat? Who will face the wielder of the Gāṇḍīva, the bow that towers among arms like Meru among hills?
“Why strive with wind against the gale,
Or strive with flame to quench the sun?
Boldness without the guiding rule
Is like a ruin yet begun.”
“Consider Dhr̥ṣṭadyumna, prince of Pañcāla—when he lets fly his shafts among the foe, he rends them as Indra rends the cloud. Think of Sātyaki, of Andhaka and Vṛṣṇi line, steadfast in the good of the Pāṇḍavas—he will scatter hosts as autumn scatters leaves. And what of Kṛṣṇa, lotus-eyed, whose energy and purpose surpass the three worlds? Place all his kin, his wives, his own soul, and the wide earth on one scale, and set Dhanañjaya on the other—and see which outweighs which.
“One soul with heaven’s unbending will
Outweighs the earth with all its store.
When righteousness protects a man,
The lesser hosts shall stand no more.”
“Vāsudeva is the shield upon which Arjuna leans; where Keśava’s host stands, victory follows. Therefore, O child, listen not to frenzy but to those who love thee and would save thee. Accept Bhīṣma, son of Śantanu, the aged grandsire, as thy guide. Hear also Drona, Kripa, Vikarna, and king Vālhika—these men are as I am in counsel and affection; they are grounded in morality and devoted to thy welfare as I am.
Remember the rout at Virāṭa—the day when, confronted by Partha alone, your host broke and scattered. That single episode, the story of one against many, is witness enough to the truth of my words. If Arjuna, alone, could scatter hosts and rout the elders, what then shall the five do united?
“What single shaft in master hand
Can throw the hosts to flight and fear?
When brothers stand as brothers true,
The field itself will bow and clear.”
“Take them by the hands as brothers; cherish them with a share of the realm. For peace kept by wisdom secures the house of Kuru; war, borne of envy, will surely consume it. Lay down pride, O son; let counsel and dharma be thy rule.”
Thus spoke the king, his words heavy with the knowledge of years; and the court was stilled, for in those sober lines lay both prophecy and entreaty.