“Wheels within Wheels”One of his many names Bhibatsu, “one who shrinks from doing an unworthy act”. But was it worth being one, when all around him he could see men of age, wisdom and virtue sinning unrepentantly. And they were not just in the enemy camp. He was sure by the end of the day, he would be forced to relinquish his title of Bhibatsu, for in him was burning a fire, which was slowly consuming his many virtues. He didn’t know when the fire actually started, but his son’s death was certainly when he first felt it burning, scorching his body. He did not mind his son’s death for in dying on the battlefield, he had attained the higher echelons of heaven. But the manner of the young lad’s death had hurt him. It had hurt him as a father, for he was still human. But that was a pain that time the healer would take care of. What hurt him more was the absolute disregard for rules of warfare by the enemy who murdered his son. Yes, he would call it murder. The teachers who taught him the art of archery, the Kings who fought on this field fighting to establish what they believed was justice, his own kinsmen and clansmen had killed the little fellow violating all rules of warfare. The same kings, who would punish a convict, for disobeying the law of the land had wantonly broken and violated the spirit and rules of warfare. He was sure, the war from then on would never have the word “Dharma” associated with it.
His thoughts returned to his son’s death. His son had represented all that was good in youth. The willingness to try the impossible, the eagerness to fight, come what may and that supreme virtue, confidence. The hope he had built, was not just about his son. It was the hope about the next generation. The generation which would repair the damage caused by the war. The generation which would see more of peaceful coexistence and less of war. The generation which would take the initiative, rather than be submissive and obedient. The generation which will throw away the burden of the past, wipe out the cobwebs and establish a new order. And this war was just as much for these causes as it was for the reclamation of the kingdom.
But all that had come crashing down with the fall of his son. The wretched claws of the old system had ensnarled his son right before his eyes. The enemy had the set the trap and his boy’s own uncle had sacrificed him to save his own skin. Was this the example that the older generation was setting the younger one? Silently he cursed his brothers. The cowards had led the young lad to the jaws of death.
He himself had vowed to kill the Sindhu king before sunset next day. But was the vow just a grief stricken father’s emotional response? History might say so. But in his mind he was sure that such an idea would be far from the truth. The Sindhu king was just a metaphor for the old creepers and vines which stood in the way of the young charging tigers. By vowing to kill Saindhava before sunset, he was trying to make a dent in that old decaying fortress, the guards of which stood ahead in their chariots in the form of the dreaded Chakravyuha; the fortress that had swallowed his son like a swamp sucking a charging young tiger.
All these thoughts raced through his mind as he penetrated effortlessly into the inner rings of Chakravyuha, the circular battle formation. Yesterday it was the son, today it was the father. But unlike the son, the father knew he would come out unscathed. The Sindhu king Jayadratha, was hidden well behind the main army at a distance of nearly twelve miles. He looked eastward at the reddish sun, who had just started his daily sojourn. Twelve hours to sunset and Twelve miles to go. Would it be his day? Shoving these thoughts aside with an effort, Arjuna set about his task with ruthless efficiency.
Note: I have this absolute admiration for the Mahabharatha. It,in my opinion tells us what wonderful and master story tellers our anscestors were. The Mahabharatha along with others like Jataka tales and Panchatantra are enough proofs to show how much the post-colonial Indians have fallen behind in terms of imagination, original ideas and creativity. And we can cuss the British for this...(and for many other things)
But the problem is how do we treat the Mahabharatha today. Should we just treat it as a revered epic and not probe it for hidden gems or treat is as a wonderful piece of literature, a wonderful source of thoughts and beliefs of another era, whose values are as different from ours, as Bush's is from Gandhi's. Bhairappa got a Sahitya Akademi award for his "Parva", where he humanised the Mahabharatha. Draupadi for obvious enough reasons has been the subject of many a tale. I see the Mahabharatha in an altogether different perspective. This piece is just a practise piece to test my capabilites and language in pursuing my life ambition of interpreting the Mahabhartha the way I see it. People who object to such efforts to probe and study that wonderful book on religious grounds can join Bush, Johnson, Kennedy and others in hell.
