Chapter
14
The Exit of the
Pândavas
It
was a pitiable sight. Parîkchit,
the little boy with the crown on his head, plaintively
approached his grandfather and others, and holding their
feet fast, he prayed that he too might accompany them to
the forests; he would gladly eat roots and fruits, engage
himself in sacred ceremonials, and be happy. "Please
entrust the kingdom to some virtuous minister and allow
me to come with you, so that I might serve you and make
my life worthwhile," he appealed. Those around him in the
hall were moved into tears by his agony at being left
behind. Rocks would have melted in sympathy, had they
listened to his anguish.
Dharmaraja
managed heroically to suppress his emotions; he
lifted the boy and placed him on his lap; he poured
consolation and courage into his ear. "Dear child! Don't
become so weak-minded. You are a child born in the
dynasty of Bhâratha; can a sheep be born in
a dynasty of lions? Your father, mother and grandfathers
are full of courage, bold champions of truth, who made
their names famous in the world. So, it is not fit that
you should weep thus. Hence-forward, these
brahmins are your grandfathers, your parents. Take
their advice and rule this land accordingly. Live up to
the grandeur and glory of your name. Stop grieving over
us".
But, the boy
was lovingly adamant, in spite of all the persuasive
advice of the elders. He lamented, "Grandpa, I am too
young to convince you with my pleading. I know it. But
listen, I lost my father, even before I was born. You
brought me up with the care and affection that my father
would have showered upon me, had he lived. And now, when
I love to sing and play and roam about with my
companions, you hoist on my head this great empire. Can
this be right, is it justice? Instead of leaving me alone
steeped in sorrow, you could leave, after severing my
head with your sword. Alas, what harm have I done to you
that you should punish me thus? Could you not have
scotched me in my mother's womb, on the day my father
died? Was my lifeless body resuscitated in order that you
may inflict this assignment on me?"
Parîkchit continued to condemn himself for
his fate, in this strain, for long.
Arjuna
could not stand it any longer. He covered the boy's mouth
with his palm; he caressed the child with sweet
affection; he pressed his lips on his head. "Child, it is
a disgrace to the kshatriya
clan that you should behave like a coward. We too lost
our father; we too grew up under the fostering care of
ascetics and monks; at last, we were able to win the
affection of our uncle and, after overcoming many a
formidable handicap, we established our sovereignty over
this kingdom. He who guarded us, guided us and directed
our steps throughout will certainly be your guardian and
guide. Don't lose heart, follow the advice which these
brahmins and Ministers will render, for some years.
Later, you will be able to solve the problems of empire
yourself", he said.
Parîkchit
could not be assuaged; He said, "Grandpa, are you now
discarding the throne and the kingdom and placing them on
my head? Well, be with me for some years more, teach me
the art of government and the principles, and then, you
can leave. I was happy and free, romping and roaming with
no trace of care, for I was confident I had grandfathers
to guard me, though I had lost my father. Now, if you too
desert me, what will be my fate? You were the centre of
all my hopes, the support on which I relied. And, you are
plunging me suddenly into despair and deserting me." He
wept aloud, rending the hearts of all who saw and heard.
He rolled on the ground, holding the feet of the
elders.
Arjuna
lifted him up with both hands and embraced him. He kept
him on his shoulders and fondled him. He wiped the
strings of pearly tears that rolled down his cheeks. He
could not arrest his own tears while doing so.
Turning to the brahmins standing around gazing at
all this, Arjuna asked them why they were only silent
witnesses, not attempting to console the boy.
They were
really too full of grief themselves to think of assuaging
Parîkchit. They said, "The sharp words this
child is lisping are wounding us like arrows; his anguish
is petrifying us. What can we tell him? How can we
console him? What can instill courage into him now", and
they too were overcome with grief.
Kripâcârya,
the teacher of the family, succeeded at last in
suppressing his grief; he wiped off the tears from his
own eyes with the ends of his garment; he spoke to Arjuna
thus: "What do you want us to tell this boy? We do not
feel like saying anything. We are struck dumb. You are
this day renouncing the empire which you gained after a
victory for which rivers of blood flowed, for which
millions laid down their lives, for which you strove for
years. You have not ruled over it for a thousand years,
no, not even for a couple of centuries, or even for
seventy years. Who can say what lies in the womb of time?
Of course, the actions of the great will have some inner
purpose. Pardon us, you are our overlords, you know
best". Kripâcârya stood with head
bent, for he was heavy with grief.
Dharmaraja
came forward a few steps and addressed the
âcârya.
"Every act of mine was according to the command of
Krishna, as you know. I dedicated all my activity
to Him. I played my role as He dictated. I did not desire
or retain any individuality. All my duties and
obligations have faded out with the departure of the
Lord. Of what use is the survival of Dharmaraja
alone, now? I cannot continue on this land even for a
minute, since Kali
has come to sway. It is your duty now to guard this boy,
guide and train him so that he may be secure on the
throne. Preserve the adherence to dharma; continue
the dynastic traditions; maintain the honor and fair name
of the line. Love him and foster him as your own son".
Thus saying, he placed the hands of
Parîkchit in the hands of
Kripâcârya. All those who were there,
including Dharmaraja and the âcârya
were in tears that moment.
In a few
minutes, Vajra (Aniruddha's
son) was called in; he was informed that from that very
day, the Emperor of Bhârath was
Parîkchit. So, Vajra paid homage to
him as befits the suzerain of the continent. The
Ministers and the brahmins too honored him as
their ruler with due ceremony. Afterwards, Dharmaraja
held the hands of Parîkchit and placing on them the
hand of Vajra, he announced, "This is
Vajra, the Lord of the Yadavas; I now
install him as the King of Mathurâ and of
the S'ûrasena State" [S.B.
1.15:39].
He placed on Vajra's head a diamond-studded golden crown.
"Be brothers both of you, staunch allies in peace and
war, inseparable in friendship", he exhorted. He called
Vajra aside and advised him to treat
Parîkchit as his own paternal uncle; he
advised Parîkchit to revere Vajra as
he would revere Aniruddha himself; he told both of
them that they ought to ensure the continuance of
dharma unimpaired, and to consider the welfare of
their subjects as the very breath of life.
Then, the
Pândava brothers showered auspicious rice grains on
the heads of both Vajra and Parîkchit. The
brahmin priests recited appropriate
mantras. Trumpets flared and drums were beaten.
With tears in their eyes, Vajra and Parîkchit
prostrated before Dharmaraja and the rest. The
Pândava brothers could not look the two dear
darlings in the face; they were so overcome with
detachment. They just held them in one quick embrace and
spoke just one word of loving farewell, before they filed
out into the beyond, with nothing on, except the clothes
they wore.
At this, the
kith and kin, the citizens, the queens and others in the
zenana, the courtiers and the maids, all raised pathetic
wails. The citizens fell across the path of the ruler and
tried to hold fast to his feet. They prayed piteously
that he should stay. They appealed to them to take them
also with them. Some brushed aside objections and ran
along with the royal party. The Pândavas,
however, never turned back; they never spoke a word.
Their ears were closed to entreaties. Their minds were
fixed on Krishna; for the rest, they moved
straight on, like men blinded by a fanatic resolve,
heeding none, observing none.
Draupadî,
with her maids, came running behind them calling on her
lords one by one separately by name. Parîkchit too
pursued them along the streets, but, he was caught and
carried away by the Ministers who tried to pacify him,
though they were themselves greatly affected. But, the
Pândavas walked unconcerned, neither asking
those who followed, to stop nor permitting those who
desired to join to come along. Hundreds of men and women
had to stop when they were too tired and they mournfully
returned to the capital. Others who were hardier kept on.
The women of the zenana, unused to sun and winds, were
exhausted quickly and they fell fainting on the road.
Maids lamenting the terrible events brought relief to
them; some ventured even into the forest, but, had to
return fast, after encountering the horrors of the
wilderness. When dust storms rose, many citizens placed
the dust reverentially on their foreheads, taking it to
be the dust of the feet of Dharmaraja. Thus,
passing through bush and briar, the brothers soon got out
of sight. What then could the people do? They returned to
Hastinâpura heavy with unbearable
grief.
The
Pândavas stuck to the vow of
Mahaprasthanam.
That vow required that they should not eat or drink
anything on the way, they should not rest, they must
proceed straight on, in the northern direction, until
they fall dead. This is the vow they observed, so grim
and tight [see also S.B.
1:15].
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