Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 4 - Kṛṣṇa-yāna Parva Chapter 4 - The Departure of Kṛṣṇa — Homage, Counsel, and the Rishis’ Witne

Vaiśampāyana said:

At dawn, when the sun cast a mild and argent light across the fields and the season of dew had clothed the earth with ripeness, the great assembly stood hushed. Janārdana—śrī Kṛṣṇa—having performed the morning rites, bathed and anointed, and worshipped Sun and Agni, moved among the venerable Brāhmaṇas with folded hands. He touched the tail of a bull in reverence, bowed to the sages, and looked upon the holy offerings; then he summoned Satyaki and bade that his car be made ready—his conch, his disc, his mace, his quiver and all weapons to be placed upon it. For though he went as messenger of peace, no prudent envoy should disdain the means of war.

His chariot was a marvel—bright as the fire that blazes at the end of ages, fleet as a cloud in haste, its wheels like the sun and the moon in splendour. Pennons fluttered upon an excellent flagstaff; the car was hung with pearls and gems and garlands, variegated with images of fishes, birds, and beasts, and overlaid with gold. Tiger-skins lined its frame; its very presence seemed to rob foes of courage. Upon it were yoked the steeds Saivya, Sugriva, Meghapuṣpa, and Valahaka, freshly bathed and harnessed, and Daruka urged them forward with reins of gold.

Garuda, lord of feathered beings, came and perched upon the flag-staff with a rattle like thunder; the chariot’s sound rolled deep—like distant kettledrums or the driven clouds of heaven. Satyaki mounted beside him, and Janārdana, the delight of the Yadavas, took his seat. At that hour auspicious winds arose; cranes, peacocks and swans flew in his wake, uttering cries that were omens of good; fires fed with mantras leapt clear and rightward; and the air, freed of dust, grew sweet.

Then Yudhiṣṭhira, with a king’s grief in his embrace, took Kṛṣṇa’s hands and spoke:

“O thou of lotus-eyes, our mother—she who bore us, who serves the gods and guests,

who tended us with fetters of love, the beam of our home—ask after her and cheer her.

Salute Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Bhīṣma and Droṇa and Vidura; embrace, if friendly, all Bharata’s elders,

and speak our name where sorrow has inclined the heart to shade.”

Yudhiṣṭhira’s words were a supplication: comfort Kuntī, the mother who had borne unfailing duty and untold grief; salute Dhṛtarāṣṭra and the grandsire and priests; speak kindly to every senior and counselor that they might remember the ties of blood and duty.

Arjuna, stepping forward, cast his eye like an arrow and declared in measured thunder that if the Kurus, honoring Kṛṣṇa, returned the kingdom without insult, then all might be well; but if Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son persisted in crooked aims, Arjuna vowed that he would sweep the Kshatriya line from the earth. At these words Bhīma’s breast heaved; a shout escaped him like a mountain breaking. Horses and elephants trembled; warriors shivered in their mail. With Kṛṣṇa’s leave, Arjuna embraced the Lord and withdrew.

And so Janārdana, heart steady, set forth. His chariot devoured the road as though it drank of the firmament; the clatter of its wheels filled heaven and earth. As he advanced, sages of high splendour—Vasiṣṭha, Vāmadeva, Bhuridyumna, Gāya, Kratha, Śukra, Kuśika, Bhṛgu and many other Brahmarṣis of luminous renown—lined the road. Kṛṣṇa alighted, saluted them with reverence, and asked: “Is peace well kept in the world? Are men holding fast to virtue? Whither go ye, and for what end? How may I serve the seers?”

Then Jamadagni’s son—he who stands as friend of Brahmā—came forward and embraced the Lord. The celestial Rishis and royal sages answered that they desired to behold the great conclave of kings and counsellors, and above all to hear the words that Kṛṣṇa would speak before Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Vidura, and the kings gathered in assembly. “We will go to witness that high sight,” they said, “and to listen to thy words, O Madhava; we shall meet thee there. Go forth in safety, O hero; we shall expect thee in the conclave, seated in might and virtue.”

As the sages’ blessing fell upon him, a quatrain rose like incense from the lips of the Rishis:

“Go, speaker of the truth, where princes sit and judge,

Let word with witness meet; let virtue front the fraud;

We come to see the test where hearts and crowns are trued,

And hear the speech that may redeem or sunder th’clod.”

And Vaiśampāyana said:

Thus worshipped by Rishis and Brāhmaṇas, accompanied by kings and champions, Kṛṣṇa set out for Hastināpura. The sons of Pāṇḍu—Yudhiṣṭhira, Bhīma, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva—followed for a space to honour him. Princes and allies—Drupada, Dṛṣṭadyumna, Virāta and his sons, Dhr̥ṣṭaketu and the Kekaya princes—attended to do him homage. The earth seemed to hold its breath: a messenger of peace went toward the city of kings, bearing in his breast the burden of reconcilement—and, if need be, the shadow of war.

Vaiśampāyana said:

O King, when Devakī’s son—the mighty-armed slayer of Madhu—set forth for Hastināpura, ten great warriors, skilled in arms and capable of crushing hosts of foes, followed in his train. A thousand horsemen and as many men on foot attended him, bearing provisions in plenty and gifts to offer. It was a journey solemn as a yajña and bright as dawn upon the world.

Then Janamejaya said:

“O sage, tell me—how went forth the illustrious Kṛṣṇa of the Dāśārha race? What omens were seen when that divine hero set out upon his mission of peace?”

Vaiśampāyana continued:

Hear now, O tiger among kings, of the omens both wondrous and terrible that marked the Lord’s departure. Though the heavens were clear, thunder rolled as if from hidden clouds, and lightning flared without rain. Yet behind him, fleecy clouds showered softly upon the dust he left, as if heaven itself wept or blessed his path.

The seven sacred rivers, Sindhu among them, turned from their eastern flow and ran backward toward the west. The very quarters of the sky seemed reversed; day and night lost their bounds; fires blazed without fuel; the solid earth trembled as if it felt the burden of fate. The water in vessels swelled and overflowed; wells ran dry and then brimmed again; and the whole world darkened under clouds of dust until direction itself was lost.

Then from the unseen sky came loud and dreadful cries, though none could say whence they arose. A south-westerly wind, harsh as the hiss of doom, uprooted trees by thousands and beat upon Hastināpura like a hammer upon bronze. Such were the portents of destruction, O Bharata, that presaged the nearing war.

Yet where Kṛṣṇa passed, the earth itself grew gentle.

The air became fragrant, the road clear of thorns, and soft petals rained from the heavens. Perfumed breezes flowed about him, bearing the scent of honey and lotus. Women came forth from their homes, casting flowers and murmuring blessings. Brāhmaṇas by thousands lifted hymns of praise and brought him gifts of curds, ghee, honey, and wealth. Everywhere he went, auspiciousness followed, as the tide follows the moon.

After passing through pleasant cities and villages bright with crops and bees, he reached Śālibhavana—a spot sacred and abundant with grain, cool and lovely to the eye. There he beheld the joyful citizens of Upaplavya, who came forth to honour him, their faces radiant with faith and devotion. They worshipped the Lord of the Yadus with offerings and praise, as men honour a god who walks among them.

When the slayer of Madhu came at last to Vṛkāsthāla, the sun had reddened the horizon with his parting light. Descending from his chariot, Kṛṣṇa performed the evening ablutions and rites; Daruka loosed the horses and tended them carefully, bathing their limbs and feeding them according to the science of steeds. Then the Lord said quietly,

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“Here will we rest tonight, for Yudhiṣṭhira’s mission shall begin with the morrow.”

The attendants at once prepared a dwelling, and food and drink of every kind were brought forth. The Brāhmaṇas of the village, noble of birth and gentle in conduct, approached Hrishīkeśa with reverent words and benedictions. Placing at his command their homes filled with wealth, they begged him to accept their service. Kṛṣṇa, gracious of heart, replied only, “Enough—be blessed,” and honoured each according to his merit. He then returned with them to his tent, fed them richly, and took his meal in their company. Thus did Keśava, the joy of the Yadus, pass that night in peace—his mind calm before the storm that awaited him.

And Vaiśampāyana closed the account:

The sky gave warning, yet his path was fair;

The rivers turned, but blossoms filled the air;

Where Kṛṣṇa walked, the world forgot despair—

Peace moved beside him, heralding the war to bear.

Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s Counsel and Kṛṣṇa’s Arrival at Hastināpura

Vaiśampāyana said:

Meanwhile, O King, when Dhṛtarāṣṭra learned through his spies that the slayer of Madhu had already set forth, his heart trembled within him and the hair upon his body stood erect. Summoning Bhīṣma the grandsire, Droṇa the preceptor, Sanjaya the wise, and Vidura of spotless soul, he spoke with a voice anxious yet reverent to Duryodhana and his counselors.

“O child of my line,” said the aged monarch, “a wondrous rumour fills the land. Men, women, and even children whisper of it in the streets; in houses and at crossroads all tongues speak one name—Keśava. They say that Kṛṣṇa of the Dāśārha race, the destroyer of Madhu, cometh hither for the sake of the Pāṇḍavas.

“He, indeed, is the Lord of all beings; on him rest the motions of the world. In him abide wisdom, energy, and the unfailing might of dharma. He is eternal virtue, and honoured by the good. If pleased, he brings happiness as the sun ripens the harvest; if displeased, he scorches all alike. Therefore, O son of Gāndhārī, prepare swiftly for his coming. Raise pavilions along the road, adorned with gems and delights. Let there be couches spread, garlands, perfumes, food, and drink—everything that may gladden his heart. For the grace of Kṛṣṇa is wealth and power itself. Tell me, O grandsire Bhīṣma, what thinkest thou?”

At this, Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Vidura, and the other elders, approving the words of the blind king, exclaimed together: “Excellent is thy resolve, O monarch! Let all be done as thou hast spoken.”

Then Duryodhana, eager to outshine all, commanded the builders to choose delightful spots and raise splendid pavilions, each rich with jewels and soft seats, where fragrance and song would fill the air. Maidens fair as Apsarases were appointed to serve there, bearing garlands, ornaments, silks, and cups of varied drink. At Vṛkāsthāla he ordered a pavilion unlike any other—bright as Indra’s own hall, its floors gem-strewn, its pillars of gold and crystal, its scent like heaven’s breeze.

Having finished these godlike preparations—surpassing the very skill of mortals—he sent word to Dhṛtarāṣṭra that all was ready.

But when Keśava of the Dāśārha race came to the city of the Kurus, he turned not his gaze upon those pavilions, nor upon the gems and offerings that lined the road. Calm and self-contained, he passed them by like the sun passing over the glitter of dew. For the splendour of the world could not ensnare him whose glory outshone all splendour.

Then the sage’s voice fell:

Gold raised its towers, and garlands strewed the way,

Perfumes and jewels called to charm the eye;

But Kṛṣṇa, bright as dawn that ends the night,

Looked not upon them—truth was his reply.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Thus entered into Hastināpura the Lord of Dvārakā, his purpose fixed as fate itself. Neither flattery nor splendour could sway him from the path of righteousness, for he came not to behold the works of pride but to test the hearts of kings.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then, O king, when word reached the city that Janārdana had set out from Upaplavya and was now halting at Vṛkāsthāla, Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s aged heart trembled and his hair stood on end. Calling to him Bhīṣma and Droṇa, Sanjaya and wise Vidura, he spoke before Duryodhana and the counsellors, moved by reverence and fear for the lord who came among them.

“O Vidura,” he said, “Keśava of the Dāśārha race hath set forth and will be here on the morrow. He is leader of the Āhukas, foremost among the Sattvata folk—high-souled, puissant, and marvellous in strength. Madhava is protector of the prosperous realm of the Vṛṣṇis and is himself like the Great-Grandsire to the three worlds. As the Adityas, the Vasus, and the Rudras honour Vṛhaspati’s counsel, so do the Vṛṣṇis adore Kṛṣṇa’s wisdom.

“I will therefore, in thy presence, offer him worship and such gifts as befit his greatness. Mark then what I will bestow: sixteen cars of beaten gold, each drawn by four steeds of the Vāhlika breed, even and splendid in hue. Eight elephants, whose trunks drip with the sap of power, tusked like the poles of mighty ploughs and fit to scatter hostile ranks—each to be attended by eight men. A hundred handmaidens fair as the dawn, all virgins, and an equal number of man-servants to attend them. Eighteen thousand woollen blankets, soft and warm, gathered from the hill-folk, and a thousand deer-skins brought from distant lands such as China—these and other valuables worthy of Keśava I will present.

“I will give him the gem that shineth serene through day and night; this jewel, pure in ray, I reserve for Keśava alone. I will also bestow that swift mule-car of mine which makes fourteen yojanas a day. Each day I will place before him stores eightfold greater than the needs of his beasts and attendants.

“All my sons and grandsons—save Duryodhana—shall go forth mounted on their cars, garlanded and splendid, to do him honour. Thousands of graceful damsels, richly decked, shall go forth on foot to receive the illustrious Madhava; these maidens shall go unveiled, their faces bright with welcome. Let every citizen, with wife and child, behold the slayer of Madhu with the reverence due to the morning sun. Let canopies be hung with pendants and banners at my command; let the road by which Keśava will come be washed and the dust removed. Cleanse and adorn Dussāsana’s mansion, which excelleth in beauty and holdeth our treasure; array it for the guest. All that the scion of the Vṛṣṇis merits shall be given unto him.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s vow then broke, as a monarch’s benediction:

“Gold for his chariot, pearls for his brow,

Tents like heaven, and garlands now;

Let every threshold, every street proclaim

The homage due to Kṛṣṇa’s name.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Thus spoke the blind king, lavish in counsel and fearful of the power that approached. Duryodhana, eager to show magnificence, at once set hands to work and ordered pavilions and splendour to be raised. But Keśava, whose glory outshone all art, came into Hastināpura without once glancing at these marks of pride—for he sought not pomp, but the justice of speech and the test of hearts.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then Vidura, the wise counsellor, born of a handmaid yet rich in dharma, spoke softly to the aged Dhṛtarāṣṭra whose mind was restless though his body sat still. His words were like cool water poured upon a fevered flame.

“O monarch,” he said, “O best among men, beloved of all the worlds—thy name is honoured in every mouth, thy age is crowned with reverence. What issue can spring from thy lips that is not rooted in śāstra or tempered by right reason? Thy nature is calm, O Bharata, and thy heart is known to all as a mirror of virtue. Thy people trust in thee as characters carved in stone, as the sun’s light rests on day, as the billows cling to the sea; for in thee, O king, dharma dwells steadfast and serene.

“Therefore, strive now with thy kin to guard those very virtues that have made thee great. Let not folly cloud thy wisdom; let not the love of one son destroy thy house entire. Cause not, through partiality, the ruin of sons, grandsons, and friends—those who depend upon thee as roots depend upon the rain.

“Much, O king, hast thou spoken of giving to Keśava—the steeds, the gems, the maidens, and the wealth. But know that Mādhava, who upholdeth the worlds, deserves more than these—yea, the whole earth itself could not match his due. Yet, O giver of wealth, thy purpose in this bounty I know too well. It is not for virtue’s sake, nor to please Keśava, that these gifts are prepared. Within thy heart, O monarch, dwelleth deceit, like poison hidden in honey. By outward acts thou wouldst disguise thy inward thought.

“The sons of Pāṇḍu ask but five villages—a mere handful of dust from thy kingdom’s vastness—and even this thou deniest them. Therefore I see no wish for peace within thee. Thou seekest rather to win over the mighty-hearted Keśava by wealth, to draw him away from the Pāṇḍavas, whose cause is just. But know, O king, that thou canst not, by gold or honour or flattery, sever Kṛṣṇa from Dhanañjaya, nor Dhanañjaya from Kṛṣṇa.

“I know the vastness of Keśava’s heart, the firmness of Arjuna’s devotion; one is the life of the other. They are as flame and light, as sound and echo—inseparable. Save only for the ritual honour of a seat, the washing of his feet, and words of courtesy, Janārdana will accept nothing from thee. He seeks not wealth, nor garlands, nor dancers, but righteousness alone.

“Therefore, offer him that worship which is born of truth, not deceit—honour him with sincerity, for no respect can be excessive where Kṛṣṇa is concerned. Give unto Keśava that for which he cometh—to establish peace between thee and thy sons on one side and the sons of Pāṇḍu on the other.

“O king, thou art their father, and they thy sons; they look to thee with filial love. Thou art aged, and they are young; be to them as a father, not as a rival. Let affection, not pride, guide thy words when the Lord of Dvārakā standeth before thee.”

Then, as if to seal his speech in sacred cadence, Vidura’s wisdom turned to verse:

“The gold thou givest fades with time,

But truth endureth, pure, sublime;

He seeketh peace—then grant thy hand,

And save, not burn, thy kinsmen’s land.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Thus spake Vidura, voice of conscience among the Kurus. His words, clear as light through crystal, struck Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s heart with both reverence and unease. For he knew that wisdom spoke before him, yet desire and blindness drew him toward his son. And fate, listening unseen, smiled darkly on the house of Kuru.