Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 4 - Kṛṣṇa-yāna Parva Chapter 20 - The Counsel Renewed in the Hall

Vaiśampāyana said:

When Vāsudeva had told them all that passed in Hastināpura, the sons of Pāṇḍu, with hearts fixed upon Keśava, questioned him once again. Yudhiṣṭhira the Just entreated: “O Kesava, recount to us exactly what the grandsire and the preceptor and the elders said in that assembly—what words were spoken to the wrathful Duryodhana?” Then Vāsudeva, who delights in truth, repeated their speeches in full; and when he had ceased, Bhīṣma the mighty, the son of Śāntanu, arose and spoke, mindful of his fathers and of the race.

Bhīṣma spoke of Santanu his sire and of the vow he had taken in obedience to filial love; he told how, for the sake of his father’s joy, he had invited Kali to his mother, how by a terrible promise he had bound himself to live with vital seed drawn up, forsaking the throne. He told how, when Vichitravīrya was born and placed upon the throne, troubles followed him to his end, and how thereafter the realm fell into disorder and famine. He described the cry of the people—wives and brahmanas and chiefs—who entreated him to save the line and to keep the kingdom from ruin; and how, though his heart was rent, he had kept his vow and sought the sage Vyāsa to beget heirs for his house. By Vyāsa’s power, children were born who made the line endure; yet in that very sequence of events, O King, thy father was born blind and Pandu became king.

Bhīṣma therefore, his voice heavy with the burden of years, entreated Duryodhana: give unto the sons of Pāṇḍu their due share of the realm. Let not fraternal blood be spilt; let not the Kuru race perish through pride. He reminded the prince that while he yet lived there was no other man fit to rule, and that the counsel of the old—his father, Gandharī, Vidura, and himself—was one: peace is the path of safety. Beware, O Kaurava, lest thy wrath and covetousness destroy all thou holdest dear and blot the earth with Kṣatriya blood.

“For father’s joy I stilled my seed,

A vow I kept for mother’s sake;

I saw my brother’s line be made,

And bore the sorrow for their sake.

When famine fell and people cried,

They called me king to break the curse;

I bowed me to my solemn word,

And sought the sage to lift the curse.

The sons of Pandu by destiny

Were raised—yet still their right remains;

Yield them their heritage in peace,

Lest ruin burn our ancient plains.

O king, the words of age are true,

Heed counsel, spare the commonweal;

Reject not those whose love is firm—

Let peace, not war, thy purpose seal.”

Vaiśampāyana continued:

So spake the grandsire in the assembly, holding up the tale of his life as warning and as guide. His speech was a lament for the house of Bharata and an exhortation to avoid the doom that pride would bring. He entreated that Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons grant the brethren their share and so avert the slaughter that even he, old and grey, could foresee.

Vaiśampāyana said:

When Bhīṣma had ceased, Drona, ever swift of speech and steady of heart, rose amid the assembled monarchs and addressed Duryodhana with words plain and grave, beseeching him to hearken to what would preserve the house of Bharata. He reminded the prince how Santanu had loved his race, and how Devavrata—Bhīṣma—had bound himself by a vow for the sake of that very line; how Pandu, though rightfully king, had yielded the realm to Dhṛtarāṣṭra and withdrawn to the woods with his wives; and how Vidura, humble and resolute, had taken charge of the household concerns. Drona urged that, born in Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s line as he was, Duryodhana had no right to sow dissension in the family, but should rather join his brothers in the enjoyment of their heritage. He spoke not from fear nor from hunger for wealth—for the gifts that Bhīṣma had bestowed supported him—but from duty; and exhorting Duryodhana, the preceptor declared: let the sons of Pṛthā have their rightful half, for victory abides where righteousness abides.

“Hearken, O Duryodhana, to the tale,

Of Santanu’s love and Bhīṣma’s vow;

He kept his pledge for Kuru’s sake,

And raised the house when ruin bowed.

Pandu gave the realm with gentle heart,

And Vidura tended hearth and coin;

Let not thy wrath the race distraught,

But share the crown and end this groan.”

Vaiśampāyana continued:

After Drona had spoken thus, Vidura—ever truthful and seeing with the clear eye of reason—turned and addressed Bhīṣma, his tones full of sorrow. He reminded the grandsire that the line of Kuru had been revived by Devavrata’s sacrifice; therefore were Bhīṣma’s counsels weighty and the more cause for him not to be indifferent now. Vidura painted Duryodhana’s nature plainly—avaricious, ungrateful, and led by lust—and warned that such a prince, if left unchecked, would precipitate the ruin of the Kuru race. If Bhīṣma’s heart were clouded by grief or old age, Vidura begged him to take refuge in the forest with Dhṛtarāṣṭra and himself; otherwise, bind the wicked son and rule the kingdom with the sons of Pāṇḍu as safeguards, lest a slaughter of kings and kinsmen come to pass.

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“O Devavrata, thou who raised this seed,

Regard not Duryodhana’s blind delight;

If thou wert blind to peril’s weed,

Then lead us forth from death’s high night.

Bind thou the son whose guile is strong,

And place the rightful sons in power;

For swift the hour that rights the wrong,

And ruin hastens every hour.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then the daughter of king Suvala—struck with wrath at the thought of her race undone—rose and, with voice that trembled between indignation and grief, rebuked Duryodhana before all kings and sages. She proclaimed that the custom of orderly succession had long governed the Kurus, and that Duryodhana’s greed and lawless longing were a stain upon that custom. When Bhīṣma lived, she reminded him, the younger men should have remained subordinate to his wisdom; the sons of Pandu, by paternal right, possessed the larger claim. Therefore she entreated that, keeping virtue foremost, Yudhiṣṭhira, guided by Dhṛtarāṣṭra and urged by Devavrata, should rule lawfully many years, and that the Kuru house be spared the havoc of fratricidal war.

“Let not thy covetous heart aflame,

Break bonds by which our fathers stood;

Let ancient order keep its name,

And prosper all with righteous good.

Give Yudhiṣṭhira his lawful due,

Let virtue guide the throne’s slow hand;

Thus shall the Kuru line renew,

And peace abide throughout the land.”

Vaiśampāyana concluded:

So did the elders and the righteous speak—each voice a warning, each counsel bent to save the race from its own folly. Their words fell like rain upon hardened earth; whether they sank deep enough to stir the roots of pride remained to be seen.

Vaiśampāyana said:

When the daughter of Suvala had spoken thus, rebuking her son’s pride, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, that aged ruler of men, sighed deeply and said in the midst of the assembled kings and elders:

“O Duryodhana, listen to me, my son, and blessed be thou.

Do as I say, if any reverence yet abides in thee for thy father’s word.

Knowest thou not, O child, the ancient tale of our race?

The moon-god Soma was the first progenitor of the Kurus.

From him descended Yayāti, the son of the mighty Nahusha,

and Yayāti begot five royal sages—lords among men.

Of these, the eldest was Yadu, sprung from Devayānī,

and the youngest was Puru, born of Śarmiṣṭhā.

Yadu, strong and fearless, proud of his might,

refused obedience to his father’s rule.

Wherefore Yayāti, angered at his disobedience,

cursed him and cast him from his kingdom,

and set upon the throne his youngest son Puru,

who was humble, obedient, and reverent to his sire.

Thus, even the eldest may be passed over,

and the younger, for virtue’s sake, may wear the crown.

Likewise, O child, the grandsire of my father—Pratīpa—

had three sons: Devāpi, Vāhlīka, and Śāntanu the wise.

Devāpi, though eldest, was stricken by a skin-disease.

Dear to his father and beloved of his brothers,

liberal, truthful, ever righteous was he—

yet the Brahmanas forbade his consecration,

for the gods approve not a king who is maimed.

Grieving sore, Devāpi left his home for the forest;

Vāhlīka went north to his mother’s kin;

and Śāntanu, youngest, assumed the throne,

ruling with virtue and fame across the earth.

Thus it hath ever been in our line— not birth alone but worth confers the right to rule. Even so, though I am eldest, being blind, Pāṇḍu, my younger brother, received the kingdom; for he was whole of limb, a lion among men, and just in deed and council. By law, O son, that same sovereignty, passing from him, belongs to his sons.

How then, O child of mine, dost thou covet

that which is not thine by right?

Thou art not born of a king, yet thou wouldst seize

the inheritance of princes.

Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Pāṇḍu, is lawful heir to this throne—

righteous, wise, steadfast, and beloved by the people.

He cherishes the old, honours the Brahmanas,

restrains his passions, and keeps his word.

In him shine all royal virtues:

forgiveness, restraint, compassion, and truth.

“He rules his heart, he guides his hand,

His word is law, his glance is kind;

In him the sceptre shines more grand,

For virtue crowns his steady mind.”

But thou, O misguided one, art given to wrath and greed,

to envy of thy kin and to deceit.

By wicked counsel thou hast led this house to ruin.

Awake, my son! shake off this delusion.

Give unto the sons of Pāṇḍu their rightful share—

the half of the kingdom, with wealth and kine—

so mayest thou yet live in peace awhile,

beloved of thy kin and unburdened of guilt.”

Thus spoke Dhṛtarāṣṭra, his sightless eyes filled with tears, his voice breaking between affection and fear. Yet Duryodhana, proud and unbending, heard but the words, not their wisdom— for when destiny blinds the heart, no father’s counsel can pierce its darkness.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Vāsudeva spoke unto the sons of Pāṇḍu with grave composure, his voice heavy with the weight of destiny.

“O monarch,” said he, “though Bhīṣma, Drona, Vidura, Gāndhārī, and even the blind king himself addressed Duryodhana with words of wisdom, that wicked one remained unmoved—like a cliff scorched by lightning, unyielding still. His eyes reddened with wrath, he rose from the royal hall and strode away, deaf to counsel, drunk with pride. Behind him followed the assembled kings—those rulers whom folly and fate alike had bound to his cause—resolved to lay down their lives for his vanity.

Then Duryodhana spoke aloud before them all, his voice trembling with rage and arrogance:

“Today the star Puṣya reigns in the heavens!

Strike the drums—let the armies march to Kurukṣetra!

Let the earth quake beneath our wheels,

For destiny herself commands the hour!”

And thus, impelled by doom, those monarchs, glad as men bewitched, set forth with their banners and elephants, making Bhīṣma, son of Śāntanu, their generalissimo. Eleven mighty akṣauhiṇīs, resplendent with armour and steeds, gathered beneath his standard—the palmyra tree shining on his chariot-banner like fire amid storm.

Vāsudeva then, turning to Yudhiṣṭhira, continued:

“O bull of the Bharatas, thou hast now heard all that passed in the Kuru assembly. I spoke with every art known to men and gods—the arts of conciliation, of gift, of sowing dissension, all for the sake of peace and the preservation of this race. I reminded them of thy endurance, thy righteousness, and the heroism of thy brothers; I pleaded for unity and compassion; I offered compromise—five villages only, for the sons of Pāṇḍu, to dwell in peace beneath Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s shadow.

'Let the empire be thine,' I said to him.

'But grant thy brothers but five humble towns—

Indraprastha, Vṛkṣāvatī, Vāraṇāvata, Ahiśatra, and one of their choosing.

Let there be peace upon this earth of men.'

Yet that man of sin, blinded by greed, refused even this. He rejected the appeal of righteousness, of blood, of mercy. I rebuked them all, called their wisdom straw, shamed Karṇa before the host, and reminded Śakuni of his deceit at dice. Still they listened not.

Therefore, O son of Dharma, know this truth: the hour for words is past. Chastisement alone remains. All those kings have gone forth to Kurukṣetra, dragging the world with them toward its ruin.

“The wheel of fate now turns with thunder,

The kṣatriya’s path is drenched in fire;

Each man goes forth to meet his wonder—

In death’s embrace shall end desire.”

I have told thee all that has transpired. They will never yield thee thy birthright by peace. They have chosen war, O son of Pāṇḍu. Before them stands Death himself, veiled in Duryodhana’s pride. Prepare thyself—for the destruction of the earth is now begun.”