Epic Retold: The Mahabharata in Tweets (11 page)

SISUPALA

EPISODE 14

TWEETS 30

The challenge comes from someone I least expect. Who would have thought Sisupala had the spine?

The coronation had promised to be a tense affair from the start. Nobody had expected the Kauravas to be pleased with the idea.

Invitations were sent as per custom. And rulers came from far and wide for the investiture of king of kings on Yudhistira.

Mostly they came, I suspect, to see what we had made of the wasteland the Kauravas had tricked us into accepting.

Mayan had outdone himself. The court hall he built for the coronation could rival the palace of gods, its floor paved with blue marble.

The way he arranged pillars and allowed light to filter through made it appear as if the hall changed shape as one walked around.

The floor too was deceptive. Where it reflected light, it resembled a body of water from certain angles.

The Kauravas had fallen prey to Mayan’s magic. Duryodhana took great care not to step in what he thought was water, providing much merriment.

And now, on the morning of the coronation, the rulers are gathered in the same hall. The priests have finished their preparations.

Before the ceremony can begin, the assembled rulers must appoint a leader, someone to bless the congregation.

Trouble begins when Bhishma names Krishna for the honour.

Resentment is writ on many faces. Clearly, Krishna is not a popular choice. But the kings hesitate to challenge Bhishma’s decision.

Sisupala stands up quickly and asks, ‘What right has the Yadava cowherd to lead us?’

I can see many are pleased the question has been asked aloud. But I had not expected the Chedi ruler, one of our cousins, to ask it.

Bhishma launches into a long speech about Krishna’s qualities. But, sensing he has the crowd’s support, Sisupala interrupts again.

‘Why do you argue for the Yadava, patriarch?’ he asks, his ire now directed at Bhishma. ‘What has he done for you?

‘Your past is the history of interference on behalf of your kin. Is this Krishna’s reward for plotting the murder of Jarasandha?’

Sisupala has gone too far. I glance at Yudhistira. He looks flustered. Beside him, Krishna sits composed.

The king of Chedi has not finished. ‘You kill a great king by trickery. Then you proclaim yourself king of kings!’

I have had enough. Shaking off Arjuna’s restraining hand, I get up.

‘I am the one who killed Jarasandha. In a fair fight. If you are unwilling to accept that, come, discuss it with me.’

‘Discuss with you?’ Sisupala scoffs. ‘You are just a blockhead who does what he is told. It is the cowherd I have an issue with!’

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Krishna rising. The Chedi king’s accusations appear not to have affected him in the least.

From then on, everything is a blur. Sisupala pushes past me, hand on sword hilt. Krishna’s discus appears in his hand out of nowhere.

The next thing I notice is blood on the marble.

Krishna walks over and retrieves his favourite weapon. He stands by the fallen Chedi king, silently challenging the would-be protestors.

No one rises.

The tableau ends only when Krishna returns to his seat. Sahadeva signals to the head priest, who hurriedly resumes his chants.

As the attendants from Chedi approach Sisupala’s body, there are murmurs from the gathering. I see a few kings walking out in protest.

I look at Krishna. His face is serene.

ROLLING DICE

EPISODE 15

TWEETS 87

It is Uncle Vidura who comes to invite us to Hastinapur. Apparently, the blind king wishes to bless Yudhistira after his coronation.

‘Duryodhana is organizing a feast in your honour,’ Uncle Vidura says. ‘He also invites you to a game of dice afterwards.’

Perhaps it is the unmistakable glint in Yudhistira’s eyes that makes Uncle Vidura pause.

‘Felicitations are fine, Yudhistira,’ he says pointedly. ‘But stay away from gambling. It can only do harm.’

Yudhistira appears not to hear him. ‘When Hastinapur extends such courtesy, how can Indraprastha refuse? Tell Uncle we accept.’

I see a look of exasperation crossing Uncle Vidura’s face. ‘I carried this message myself because I wanted to warn you.

‘There is trickery afoot. Stay away from Duryodhana. Have you not learnt that yet?

Yudhistira laughs. ‘Uncle, they cannot harm us. We are their guests! The people would not forgive! Besides, we have powerful allies now.’

I look at Mother. She is about to say something, but Yudhistira forestalls her.

‘I will not ask for a game of chance. But it is against the scriptures for a king to refuse a challenge if one is offered to him.’

Seeing the expression on Mother’s face, he adds hurriedly, ‘Do not worry. Duryodhana cannot best me.’

That night, Uncle Vidura stays on, talking to Mother for long. When the time comes to leave next day, I ride in his chariot part of the way.

‘You know what your cousins are capable of,’ he says, as I bid farewell. ‘See if you can keep your brother away from the dice table.’

Keep Yudhistira away from dice? I do not think I have it in me.

On the day of the journey, I reluctantly get up when Visoka comes to call me. Outside, Sahadeva is overseeing the loading of the chariots.

‘Mother has ordered us to take so many things,’ he tells me quietly. ‘In case we do not return.’

Does Mother know something I do not?

Yudhistira comes out just then. Behind him walks Draupadi. I cannot help but stare at my brother’s wife. Our wife.

Time has not touched her. It has been more than five years since she came to us. In that time, she has given birth to five children.

Many others had followed Draupadi as brides to our kingdom. But none glows the way this divine daughter of Panchala does.

Uncle Vidura is at the Hastinapur gates to receive us. With him is Sanjaya, Dritarashtra’s trusted attendant.

After paying respects to Bhishma, we make our way to where Dritarashtra and Aunt Gandhari are waiting.

One by one, we pay obeisance to both. The blind king greets us with an embrace and a few murmured words of blessing.

When it is my turn, he lingers, caressing my arms and shoulders. I remember the first time he had done that, the first time I ever saw him.

His hands are rougher than I recall. Rough like Jarasandha’s. ‘God bless you,’ he says. ‘You have grown into a mighty warrior, my son.’

Is there a note of apprehension in his voice?

Making my excuses, I walk towards the arsenal in search of Shukacharya. Someone guides me to his new quarters.

Shukacharya has aged considerably. He struggles to rise when I walk into his room by the elephant paddocks. He is glad to see me.

‘No one comes here anymore,’ he says, ‘except for the mahouts and a few old students.’

Then, poking me in the chest, he adds, ‘But I know of the exploits of the great Bhimasena! I know all about your battles!’

I invite him to Indraprastha. Shukacharya smiles. ‘I am done. This is all I need now.’

He asks whether I have been to Duryodhana’s palace. No, I answer. Why?

‘They say he has had an iron statue made. It moves its limbs when a servant turns a wheel. Duryodhana fights it every day for practice!’

Seeing my perplexed expression, Shukacharya laughs. ‘I hear the statue resembles Bhimasena!’

The feast is everything I had hoped it would be. When it is over, I retire to my old quarters for a brief rest.

It is night when a servant comes to show me the way to the new leisure hall. It is already crowded when I arrive.

Dritarashtra and Aunt Gandhari are seated at one end. Behind them stands Sanjaya, ready to whisper the happenings into the blind man’s ears.

Bhishma sits nearby. Drona, Kripa and Uncle Vidura are present. I also spot several kings, all allies of Duryodhana.

In the centre of the hall, laid out on a dais, stands a giant, golden game board. Duryodhana stands by it, Sakuni and Karna by his side.

As Yudhistira takes his place opposite, a hush falls on the hall. My brother is smiling, a look of intoxication on his face.

‘The stakes will be high,’ Arjuna says. I hadn’t seen him arrive. ‘Let us hope elder brother doesn’t squander all the gifts he received!’

Duryodhana addresses Yudhistira loudly. ‘My uncle Sakuni will play in my stead. I will be the one placing the stakes.’

Sakuni to play? Arjuna is frowning now. If there is one person we all truly despise, it is this maternal uncle of the Kauravas.

‘One man should not play for another,’ Yudhistira responds. ‘Still, I will play.’

My elder brother, who can recite the Vedas backwards. How can he be so stupid?

Sakuni and Yudhistira both throw the dice to decide who should begin the game. Behind me, spectators have begun to bet amongst themselves.

Yudhistira throws a six. Sakuni a four. My brother has won the right for the first throw. He looks pleased.

Holding up the diamond necklace he is wearing, Yudhistira begins to roll the dice. ‘This will be my first pledge,’ he says.

He plays. Sakuni follows.

‘Twelve against six,’ Duryodhana calls. ‘I win!’

Smiling, my brother hands the necklace to Sakuni. Then he picks up the dice. His wager this time is a pair of golden bracelets.

Again, Sakuni wins.

Yudhistira looks unmoved as he prepares to play again. Duryodhana scoffs when he pledges the diamond-studded gold rings on his fingers.

‘If we play for every trinket, we will be here for the next ten years,’ Duryodhana says. ‘Does the king care to wager something worthwhile?’

Yudhistira flushes red. He says, ‘A hundred boxes of gold!’

I look at Arjuna. Yudhistira has wagered almost all the tributes he received for his coronation!

I stand up. ‘Call me when he has lost everything and it is time to go.’

As I leave the hall, I hear the audience erupt. Has Yudhistira lost again? I do not care to inquire.

Two men throw a cube. The one who throws the bigger number wins. Where is the sport in it, where the science my brother keeps talking about?

A loud roar from the audience. Nakula comes running.

‘Come, do something!’ he says, fuming. ‘Elder brother has gone insane. In twelve throws he has lost everything, including our kingdom!’

Taking a deep breath, he adds, ‘Now he has pledged me.’

I realize the trap that had been sprung. Only a fool would wager his own brother, but there is no going back on a gambling pledge.

I remember a story I had heard in my childhood: King Nala had pawned everything, including his wife, and became the cook of another king.

Wise Vidura. Why did Yudhistira not pay heed?

No point waiting outside now. It is only a matter of time before I too become a pawn in Yudhistira’s hand.

When we enter the hall we hear Nakula has been lost. Yudhistira is about to play, staking Sahadeva.

The dice rolls. I hold my breath. Sakuni wins.

A gleam of sweat has appeared on Yudhistira’s face. ‘This is not right,’ he says. ‘There is deceit in this dice!’