Chapter
12
The Kali Age dawns
Bhīmasena said,
"When Krishna was questioned in the
court of Dhritarāshthra
by Duryodhana, Dussasana and others as to why
He should intercede in the family disputes of
the Kauravas and Pāndavas and
favor one section more than another, as if the
Pāndavas were nearer kin to Him than the
Kauravas, what did the Lord reply? Remind
yourselves of that reply now. Picture that scene
before your eyes: pacing up and down, like a
lion cub, He roared, "What did you say? Are the
Kauravas as near to Me as the Pāndavas?
No, they can never be on the same level. Listen,
I shall tell you of the kinship that binds Me to
the Pāndavas. For this body of Mine, Dharmaraja
is as the head; Arjuna is as the shoulder and
arms; Bhīma is as the trunk; Nakula and Sahadeva
are as the two feet. For the body constituted
like this, Krishna is the heart. The
limbs act on the strength of the heart; without
it, they are lifeless".
What does that
declaration mean to us? It means, we Pāndavas
will be lifeless since the Heart has
gone out of action. We are to meet dissolution.
The Lord who is Time Incarnate is
striving to merge us into Himself. We have to be
ready to answer His call. This is proof enough
that the Kali Age has come.
The day Krishna left this world, that
day the doors of Dvāpara have been closed and
the gates of Kali opened. Or else, can
these evil forces and wicked minds roam about
unchecked? Can this Arjuna who never forgets the
ritual formulae for each divine arrow sent from
his bow, even when the battle is raging most
ferociously and fast; can he ever forget them in
the direst crisis of the barbarian attack on
that convoy of women and children? It is
certainly the Time-spirit of the Kali Age
that has caused this dire calamity."
Nakula too
joined at this stage. He said, "Brothers, the
eastern sky reveals approaching dawn. Let us
inform the queens and our revered mother of
these developments; let us decide without delay
the next step we have to take. The body will not
be dissolved immediately the breath leaves,
isn't it? Of course, life has gone out of us the
moment Krishna left; the limbs will be
warm a little while. We too have to reach the
presence of Krishna today or tomorrow.
Let us not waste time in grief and anguish. Let
us rather think of the path we have to tread
next and prepare for that journey". Every one
agreed with this suggestion, so full of wise
detachment.
There was some
anxiety about how the news would affect Draupadī,
Subhadrā and the aged mother (Kuntī);
but they ignored that anxiety and decided to
communicate the news. For, when the Lord Himself
has left, why should anyone be anxious about
what might happen to anyone else? The brothers
resolved that the eldest among them, Dharmaraja,
should go to the mother; that was the proper
course, they thought.
Joy consumes time
more quickly, not so grief. When men are in joy,
time passes fast; when they are in grief, it
moves slow. Grief is heavy like a mountain
range; it is as the final flood. Though the
capital city of Dharmaraja was Indraprastha,
the ancestral throne was still at Hastināpura,
because that place had lost its other glories
when the Mahābāratha battle carried away
the princes of the Royal line and all senior
scions. Therefore, Dharmaraja was spending some
months at Indraprastha and the remaining part of
the year at Hastināpura. Unaware of
this, Arjuna went to Indraprastha and
finding that Dharmaraja was not there,
he left those few women of Dvārakā whom
he could retrieve from the barbarian hordes
there and reached Hastināpura alone.
There was with him one solitary Yadava, a
grandson of Krishna, Vajra [see
S.B.
10:90]
by name; the only survivor among the male
population of Dvārakā. Poor Vajra had no
mind to show his face to others; he was so
ashamed of himself for having survived; he was
so miserable at the death of all the rest that
he hid himself in a dark room and sulked all the
time, gloomy and alone.
The Queen Mother,
Kuntī Devī, learnt from a maid that Arjuna
had arrived within a short time after his
arrival. She kept vigil the entire night,
expecting that Arjuna would rush to her and tell
her some news from Dvārakā; she kept the
lamps burning; she refused to go to sleep; she
rose in joy that Arjuna had come, whenever the
slightest noise of footsteps reached her ears,
uttering the words "O son! I am glad you came,
what is the news?" When no answer came, she
called her maid by name to the room and
interjected, "What is the meaning of this? You
told me, didn't you, that Arjuna arrived from Dvārakā?
Why has he not come to me yet? You must have
been mistaken; you must have seen someone else
arriving and taken him to be Arjuna. If he had
come, surely, he would have been here
immediately." Thus Kuntī spent a
sleepless night between expectation and
disappointment.
Day dawned, every
one was getting busy with his own assignment.
Meanwhile, her mind had undergone many
questionings. What was the reason for Arjuna not
coming to her? Had he really returned? Was he
kept away by some urgent political problem which
had to be discussed among the brothers until the
small hours of the night? Or is he so tired by
travel that he resolved to see his mother early
next day, instead of the same night? Or has some
crisis developed in Dvārakā for which Krishna
directed him to consult Dharmaraja
urgently and bring him his reaction and
solution? Has he forgotten his duty to his
mother in the confusion of these crises? Of
course, he will come when the day has dawned,
she finally told herself.
So, she rose even
when darkness still enveloped the earth; she
bathed and put on new clothes and got ready to
receive her son. Just then, another doubt arose
in her mind and agitated her. Every night,
all her sons would invariably come to her
presence, one behind the other and fall at her
feet, craving permission to go to bed, seeking
her blessings. But she wondered why not even one
had turned up that night. This made her anxiety
worse. She sent maids to the apartments of Draupadī
and Subhadrā and found that none of the
brothers had even partaken of dinner! Kuntī
sank deeper into anxiety.
When her mind was
thus torn with travail, an old female attendant
came in and informed her that Dharmaraja,
accompanied by Arjuna, was on the way to
her apartments. Kuntī was agitated by
fear at what they might tell her, joy that she
was meeting Arjuna after a long absence, and
eagerness to hear the news of the Yadavas.
It made an amalgam of expectancy. She was
shivering because she was unable to contain this
anxiety.
Dharmaraja
came in and fell at her feet; he stood silent. Arjuna
could not raise himself from her feet, for a
long time. It was Kuntī who spoke to
him, words of consolation. "Poor fellow, how did
you manage to be away from me for such a long
time?" She caressed him lovingly, but even
before she spoke words of blessing or questioned
about his health and welfare, she asked "Arjuna,
I heard you arrived last night, is it true? Why
did you not come to me during the night? How can
a mother who knows that her son has returned
from a long absence sleep in peace without
seeing him? Well, I am glad you have come at
least now, with the break of dawn. Tell me the
news. Are your father-in-law, mother-in-law and
grandfather quite well? My brother, Vasudeva,
is very old now, how is he? Is he moving about?
Or is he bed-ridden as I am? Is he being nursed
as I am, dependent for everything on others?"
She was holding the hands of Arjuna and her eyes
were fixed on his face. Suddenly she asked,
"What is this I see, my son? How did you grow so
dark? Why have your eyes bloated and reddened
like this?"
"I understand! Dvārakā
is far away and the long jungle journey has told
upon you. The dust and the sun have affected
you; the exhaustion of the road is written on
your face. Let it go. Tell me what my Shyamasundara,
my Krishna has asked you to tell me.
When is He coming here? Or has He no desire to
see me? Did he say anything? Of course, He is Vāsudeva, He can see all from
wherever He is. When am I to see Him again? Will
this ripe fruit be on the tree, until He comes?"
She asked
questions many times and answered them herself
many times. She provided no opening for either
Arjuna or Dharmaraja to say what
they wanted. From Arjuna's eyes tears flowed
without hindrance. Kuntī observed this
strange phenomenon. She drew Arjuna closer to
herself and had his head on her shoulder. "Son,
Arjuna, what has happened, tell me. I have never
seen tears in your eyes. Did Gopala find
fault with you and send you away, because you
are unfit to be with Him? Did any such terrible
calamity happen to you?" She was overwhelmed
with grief but she was trying her best to
console her son.
Just then, Dharmaraja
hid his own face with both hands and groaned
amidst sobs, "Mother, you speak of our Vāsudeva
still. It is ten days since He left us. He has
gone to His own place. All the Yadavas
have died". Even as he was speaking thus, Kuntī
opened her eyes wide, asking, "What, my Gopala...
my Nandananda... the Treasure of my
heart... heart... has He widowed the earth? O Krishna...
Krishna..." and as if going to seek Him,
that very moment, she passed away. [See: SB, Canto 1, Ch. 15-33]
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