The Mahabharata of Palmira: Volume Two: The Yoke

Postface

Day Eight: The Forest

51 The clearing

‘She may still be in the house.’

‘Or even still asleep.’

‘Should we wake her up? She won’t want to start if it gets too late in the afternoon.’

They quietly approached Palmira’s yard.

‘Yes, she’s up!’

They paused for a moment as they glimpsed Palmira through the vines. She was sitting up against the west wall of her yard. The two boys carefully avoided the prickly pears on either side of them. They paused again before entering. They could now see over the low wall supporting the trellis of vines around Palmira’s yard. They caught sight of a bowl and jug on the marble table in front of Palmira. She was holding a cup in her hand. Two other cups were waiting on the near side of the table. The cushions on the floor by the table were freshly plumped.

‘She’s brought some of those dates!’ whispered the first Henry.

‘What a good job you’ve done, boys!’ said Palmira, without looking up in the direction of the rustling.

The twins entered her yard and made themselves comfortable on the cushions beside the table. One of the boys reached under his cushion and picked out a small wooden tetrahedron, left behind from the dice games they had been playing before Palmira went away. He placed it down beside him on the tiles.

‘We came to the house earlier but you were still asleep, Palmira.’

‘Yes, I thought I heard something.’ Palmira put her cup down on the table. ‘Mulciber told me how hard you worked.’

‘Thanks, Palmira.’

‘Are you well, Palmira?’

‘I am well, thank you, Henry. I hope I haven’t brought back the plague.’

‘I thought you said it was on its way out?’

‘And you didn’t go near it, did you, Palmira?’

‘I hope not, boys.’

She looked at their expectant faces and raised her eyebrows slightly.

‘What are you after, boys, a reward?’

‘No, well, yes, but…’ The first Henry looked at his brother.

‘The story, Palmira!’ cried the second Henry.

‘What story?’

The boys looked at each other again.

‘She’s joking.’

‘You’re joking, aren’t you, Palmira.’

She stared at them blankly. Then she frowned.

‘Was I telling you a story? It’s been a week, boys, you know how forgetful I am.’

‘No, Palmira.’

‘We don’t know that.’

‘But I tell you so many stories, Henry. Was it the fisherman and the jinnee?’

‘No!’

‘Another time, Palmira!’

She picked up her cup and took a sip of water. ‘What was it about, then, this story?’

‘Palmira! King Yudhi had just lost the dice game!’

‘Yudhi? Who’s King Yudhi?’

The first Henry’s mouth hung open. Then his brother glanced at him briefly before turning to Palmira with a grin on his face, ready to play along with Palmira’s tease.

‘Palmira, your story was about two sets of brothers, well, sort of brothers.’

‘One set of brothers ―’

‘The Kurus,’ explained the second Henry.

‘Had a grievance against the other set of brothers ―’

‘The Pandavas.’

‘Because they thought that the Pandavas had got to rule the kingdom unfairly.’

‘The Kurus thought this kingdom rightfully belonged to them, because they were the sons of King Dhrita and Queen Gandhari.’

‘Really,’ said Palmira, showing little interest.

‘And Yudhi,’ continued the first Henry, undaunted, ‘who was the eldest and most sensible of the Pandavas ―’

‘I’m not sure about that!’ interrupted his brother.

‘No, he was the eldest, wasn’t he, Palmira?’

Palmira suppressed a little laugh.

‘And King Yudhi,’ continued the first Henry, ‘who was the son of King Dhrita’s brother Pandu, who’d given up the kingdom to his brother ―’

‘Yudhi had been made King of Kings by all the neighbouring kings because he was so respected ―’

‘That was at his Rajasuya ceremony. And then later King Yudhi accepted to play a game of dice for the right to rule the whole kingdom ―’

‘I thought you said he was sensible,’ interrupted Palmira.

‘I only said most sensible.’

‘I’m still not sure about that,’ said his brother.

‘So why didn’t they fight it out in the traditional, barbaric way?’ asked Palmira.

‘Well, you see, Dur ―’

‘The eldest and most… the eldest Kuru brother ―’

‘Had an uncle ―’

‘King Shakuni ―’

‘Who was virtually unbeatable at dice, so rather than fight a battle, which they might have lost, or been killed in, Dur decided to challenge Yudhi to this dice game.’

The first Henry looked at his brother for approval.

‘Yes, Palmira,’ added the second Henry eagerly, ‘the Kurus weren’t nearly as good warriors as the Pandavas, so they came up with the idea of the dice game.’

‘So why did these Pandavas accept the very difficult challenge of the dice game, when they could have easily defeated these troublesome rivals?’

‘We’ve no idea, Palmira.’

‘You’re right, Palmira, that is puzzling. There wasn’t a single decent warrior that the Kurus could count on.’

‘Whereas the Pandavas had this great hero, Arjuna. And Bhima, who was very strong, and Saha and Nakula ―’

‘Who were very good-looking. And twins! Though not exact mirror twins like us two.’

‘While Dur just had lots of brothers, none of whom were much good at anything, Palmira. It is puzzling.’

‘I suppose there was Lord Bhishma, the Grandsire,’ suggested the second Henry. ‘He might have had to fight on the side of the Kurus, but he’s getting old, so even with Charvaka’s weapons, the Kurus didn’t have anyone on their side that could stand up to Prince Arjuna.’

‘But boys, what about Karna? Don’t you think he would have fought for Dur and defeated the Pandavas? Or do you think he would have stayed out of it?’

The boys looked at each other blankly.

‘Who’s Karna?’ asked the first Henry.

‘I don’t remember a Karna?’ The second Henry did not quite manage to suppress his grin. ‘Oh, was he that mule?’

‘No, the mule was called Anutseka,’ corrected his brother, over Palmira’s laughter.

‘Hmm. I’m impressed that you remember Anutseka,’ said Palmira, still chuckling.

‘Well, didn’t you call Henry a mule when he fell asleep, during that awful cave bit?’

‘You’re right! I’d really forgotten that, Henry — you shouldn’t have reminded me!’ Palmira pushed the bowl of dates across the marble towards the boys. ‘Come on, you’ve been so politely avoiding staring at my bowl.’

The boys eagerly attacked the dates.

‘Well,’ said Palmira, as she watched them concentrate on their delicacy. ‘Since you seem to think so little of Karna… Can you remember which rishi was he taken to as a baby?’

‘Narada,’ replied the first Henry.

‘The dove,’ added his brother for good measure. ‘That’s what they call him, and he wears white robes.’

‘And what did he say about Karna’s prospects?’

‘That if Karna had his ear-rings and his armour, no one would be able to defeat him in combat.’

‘Palmira, how could he possibly know that, about Karna’s future!’

‘Well,’ began Palmira.

‘You’re saying well again, Palmira.’

‘You can tell she’s been away!’

‘Well,’ continued Palmira, undeterred, ‘I suspect he confused the past, which he knew something about, with the future, about which he merely had hopes.’

‘And how could he also say that about Arjuna — wasn’t Narada supposed to say, when Arjuna was born, that he would conquer all others!’

‘Which were most important,’ continued Palmira, ignoring this objection, ‘Karna’s ear-rings or his armour?’

‘Charvaka said the ear-rings were most important, because one of them meant Karna’s life and the other meant his death!’

‘And what was the name of the rishi in the cave, Henry, when you became a sleeping mule?’

‘Parashu-rama.’

‘The mongoose.’

‘Good. And can you remember the name of the fourth rishi?’

‘Durvasa.’

‘The red fox.’

‘Good!’ Palmira’s eyes twinkled at the twins’ performance. ‘And why did Karna need to visit Parashu?’

‘To find out about kshatriya death.’

‘It was a sort of death sentence, Palmira. Karna had this hanging over him. But Parashu couldn’t really explain because Karna had given away his ear-rings by then.’

‘We think we know who it was he gave his ear-rings to ―’

‘Don’t tell me!’ interrupted Palmira. ‘Let me find out for myself. Now, what did Parashu give Karna?’

‘The snake arrow. The real one.’

‘Not the one Karna had swapped his ear-rings for.’

‘That’s right, Henry.’

‘But Palmira, do you think it would really be possible to make something like the snake arrow, which would be sensitive to movements in the air, and be able to dodge arrows?’

‘And be able to follow a prey like a falcon does? Wouldn’t that be impossible, Palmira?’

‘Boys… that’s a very important question for my story. Is it impossible? That’s a very difficult idea. Let’s just say that though, I admit, I doubt such a weapon is possible to make, I would like — or want — to think that it’s merely extraordinary, not impossible.’

‘You mean it’s not magic,’ said the first Henry, smiling knowingly at his brother.

‘You couldn’t have expressed it better,’ said Palmira, returning their smile.

‘But Karna also needed his ear-rings to be able to shoot the snake arrow, didn’t he, Palmira?’

‘That’s right, Henry. Good! But boys, I’m sure you don’t remember which of Karna’s ears Vyasa touched? You remember Vyasa?’

‘I expect you mean the Vyasa in the story, not the Vyasa who told you the story?’

‘His left ear.’ The second Henry looked at his brother, who nodded in agreement.

‘Well, I am impressed!’

‘We tested each other every morning on the way to meet Mulciber.’

‘Did you? I see! Then perhaps you can tell me what three have the name Ashwa?’

‘Three?’

‘There’s Drona’s son, Ashwa,’ said the second Henry. ‘Ashwa-tthaman.’

‘He was fond of Karna when Karna was at Drona’s academy. And he was friendly with Drona’s servant, Vaitanika.’ The first Henry looked at his brother. ‘We can’t remember the other two I’m afraid.’

‘Well, there’s the river Ashwa,’ replied Palmira. ‘And an elephant called Ashwa, who belonged to King Indra-varman. But I will certainly forgive you for not remembering those two!’

‘Palmira, I’m surprised you haven’t asked us about Shikhandi?’

‘Really, Henry? Why?’

The smiles on the twins’ faces showed no signs of turning into speech.

‘Well, since you asked for it, boys, who do you think Parashu will ask her to fight?’

The boys thought in silence for a moment.

‘Oh, it’s because of Amba, I bet!’

‘The Grandsire, Bhishma!’

‘Amba asked Parashu to kill him, but Parashu couldn’t, so it’s probably the Grandsire.’

‘Well done, boys! Very good!’

‘Can we start now, Palmira?’

‘Haven’t we passed our examination?’

Palmira smiled. ‘Almost, almost.’ She pointed to the few dates remaining in the bowl. ‘I’ve plenty more. And only a few more questions for you…. So, boys, who was the guest of honour when Yudhi was made King of Kings?’

‘That was called the Rajasuya, the ceremony, wasn’t it?’

‘And Lord Krishna was guest of honour.’

‘He was a cousin of the Pandava brothers.’

‘A cousin of Pritha’s sons, Yudhi, Bhima and Arjuna,’ added the second Henry. ‘His father was Queen Pritha’s brother, so he wasn’t really a cousin of the twins, who were sons of Madri, King Pandu’s other wife, who’s dead. Is that right, Palmira?’

‘Excellent! And what do you remember about the twins’ uncle, Madri’s brother?’

The boys stared at each other.

‘What was his name, Palmira?

‘Shalya, King of the Madrakas.’

‘Oh, I remember, he was the one that insulted Karna for being a suta, when Princess Draupadi chose a husband.’

‘At her swayamwara,’ added the second Henry. ‘And he insulted Karna again at the dice game, didn’t he?’

‘And wasn’t he supposed to be good with horses, Palmira?’

‘Yes, boys, well done! And do you remember, at Draupadi’s swayamwara, who announced the challenge?’

‘Prince Drishta.’

‘He was the brother of Draupadi and Shikhandi. I think he was King Drupada’s only son.’

‘Good. And who was the only warrior, apart from Arjuna, who managed to shoot all five arrows through the hole in the wheel?’

‘That was King Satyaki.’

‘He was a friend of King Drupada, wasn’t he?’

‘Good. And boys, can you remember the king he had a long-standing quarrel with?’

‘Oh, that was Soma!’

‘Satyaki and Soma almost came to blows at the dice table, and didn’t Satyaki lose a lot of land, or cattle, to Soma, at the dice tournament?’

‘Both, Henry. Land and cattle.’

‘But Palmira, wasn’t there another pair of kings who were quarrelling so badly over their land and cattle that they didn’t even go to the dice tournament?’

‘That’s right, Henry. It was King Virata of Matsya and King Shusharman of Trigarta. Virata and his sons, Uttara and Shankha, were so busy fighting Shusharman that they didn’t attend the tournament. Now, boys, one last question. Can you remember what Yudhi agreed would happen to him and the Pandavas were he to lose the dice game?’

‘Yes, they’d have to spend ―’

‘But Palmira, why did Yudhi have to lose!’ interrupted the second Henry.

‘Why did he have to gamble on his whole kingdom?’ added the first Henry. Then he continued with his reply to Palmira. ‘They’d have to spend twelve years in the forest, away from other people, and without their riches. And then in the thirteenth year ―’

‘It was very harsh, Palmira!’ interrupted his brother again.

‘And in the thirteenth year,’ continued the first Henry, ‘they would have to come out of the forest and live in a town or village, but not be recognised or discovered!’

‘If they were recognised,’ added the second Henry, ‘they’d have to start their exile all over again!’

‘And what if they succeeded in not being discovered during that year?’ asked Palmira.

‘Then they could get all their possessions and riches back.’

‘I think Shakuni would have enjoyed going to live in the forest, Palmira. Why didn’t you make him lose?’

‘But Henry, Yudhi had to be the loser,’ explained Palmira. ‘I’m not free to choose what happens to Yudhi any more than Yudhi is free to choose.’

‘Of course you’re free to choose! You’re telling the story, aren’t you!’

‘It’s poor Yudhi who’s bound by whatever you decide for him,’ said the first Henry, taking up his brother’s complaint. You’re quite free to choose, Palmira.’

‘Really?’ Palmira stared intently at the twins. ‘You really think I can choose just any fate whatsoever for Yudhi?’

‘You’re telling the story, Palmira.’

‘Yes, but I’m bound by what happened in the story that Vyasa — my Vyasa — told me.’

‘So Yudhi lost in Vyasa’s story?’

‘Of course. It wouldn’t be the same story if Yudhi had won the dice game!’

‘But it wouldn’t be the same story if Yudhi had even sat on a different stool ―’

‘And anyway, Palmira, you told us right at the start that your story wasn’t the same story Vyasa told you — that it was your story, not his.’

‘It can’t be different but the same!’

‘It certainly can, Henry. If you were to make the journey from here to Carthage, but in the time of Hannibal, it would be the same journey as now, but very, very different.’

‘But where do you draw the line?’

‘If you can’t draw the line it can’t be two different things, can it?’

‘Now that’s something different altogether, Henry. Just because you can’t tell at which point day becomes night doesn’t mean there’s no difference between day and night. You don’t know when grains of sand become a heap, when dull dust becomes bright brain. We draw the line where we need to. Everywhere we look we make out lines that are not there.’

‘All right, rama, we agree about the day and night and the sand, but the dull dust ―’

‘That’s going too far, Palmira!’

‘Is it?’ Again Palmira stared at the boys, but her eyes glazed over. Then she took a sip from the cup. ‘Well boys, you’ve certainly asked for it now!’ She let out a sigh. ‘But it’s too late for poor Yudhi. It’s his night now, not his day. As perhaps you can imagine, he is presently in exile in the forest, with the rest of his family.’ She put down the cup. ‘Can you remember whether the losers of the dice game were to be allowed visitors in the forest?’

‘Yes, Shakuni made sure that was allowed, in case he lost!’

‘That’s absolutely right, Henry. Well, just now the Pandavas have received a visitor.’

Palmira glanced through the vines towards the hills beyond, took a long, deep breath, and resumed her story.

•

‘I think he will see you this time.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s gathering wood at the moment. Saha’s watching him.’

‘Has he seen anyone, Arjuna?’

‘Charvaka and the Grandsire came last month. He did stay in their presence.’

‘But still he didn’t actually speak?’

‘No, Krishna.’

‘So he hasn’t spoken in all this time?’

‘No one has heard him utter a single word since he was on his stool at the dice table. Not even when we passed through Indraprastha. That was nearly two years ago, Krishna!’

‘Does he respond at all? Does he nod or shake his head when you talk to him, cousin?’

‘No, nothing like that. But he does listen... and he understands. He will do things. He’ll feed himself if food is put in front of him. Though he’ll only eat once a day. He will fetch things or help me if I ask him. But he doesn’t... He doesn’t acknowledge me directly. He won’t respond in any other way. When I ask him if he’s hungry, or cold, or if he’s uncomfortable — nothing.’

‘Still, it is some progress, Arjuna, if he will let people near him now.’

‘But I don’t think he would with just anyone — it was the Grandsire, remember.’

‘Yes... But you know that he hasn’t been comfortable with me since the Rajasuya. Perhaps he will walk away from me again?’

‘Perhaps. But at least you disturb him, Krishna. He is too... Nothing seems to disturb him. He seems to have no need to enter into the world again. I really hope you can make him respond.’

‘We shall see, cousin, we shall see... Should I try to find him in the forest, or wait till he returns?’

‘Wait here. He will be more tired. There is less chance that he will run away. Wait here. Nakula will be back soon, too. He is collecting herbs for Draupadi.’

‘She is suffering?’

Arjuna nodded.

‘Where is she?’

‘She has gone fishing with Bhima. Nakula thinks she needs to eat more fish. She makes things worse for herself by trying to talk to Yudhi.’

‘He ignores her?’

‘He will allow her to hold him and touch him. But he will not even lift an arm! He’s like a statue with her! And, of course, he won’t make any sound. At least with us he’ll move — I mean, he helps us, he cooperates with us, he knows what we’re doing. But as soon as Draupadi goes near him he seems to fall into a dream.’

‘What does she say to him? Is she still angry at the dice game?’

‘She’s still angry. But she doesn’t reproach him about that any more — not to his face. No, she just wants to know what he plans to do. She’s afraid we’ll stay here for the rest of our days!’

‘You mean even after the exile is over?’

‘Yes. She’s afraid Yudhi will never want to leave the forest. And, of course, now she wants Yudhi to make war on Dur.’

‘Now? And break the terms of the agreement? I must speak to her. That sort of talk can only drive him further away from her.’

‘But he has to be told, Krishna.’

‘So you agree with Draupadi?’

‘Not that we should break the terms of our exile. No. But that we should fight the Kurus when our exile is over.’

‘Well, I would agree with you there. Is that what you want me to do? To persuade Yudhi to fight?’

‘No, Krishna. Well... yes. But if you could just get him to talk. Also... I need to leave the forest. To train ―’

‘But your terms forbid that, Arjuna.’

‘I will be careful. I will disguise myself.’

‘If you’re discovered you will bring disgrace upon the Pandavas. Your word will never be respected again.’

‘But if I don’t train we’ll be disgraced in battle, as we were on the dice table. Our word will never even be heard again, let alone respected.’

‘Is this Arjuna speaking? Surely it isn’t the forest that has made you humble? I have never heard you doubt your power before. What has happened?’

‘Nothing... nothing.’

‘Arjuna, you have done me a great honour by asking me to try to make your brother speak again.’ Krishna’s gold tooth flashed as he smiled at Arjuna. ‘Do not now insult me with your own silence!’

Arjuna looked uncomfortably at the ground. ‘When the Grandsire was here, I talked to him... He thinks it would be very difficult for us. There are many things about the planning of a long conflict which I need to learn. And even my own ability in combat...’

‘Arjuna! I can tell that you haven’t said such things in front of Yudhi! He would have broken his silence in amazement! What did the Grandsire say?’

‘He... He warned me not to underestimate Karna.’

‘My word! And I suppose Charvaka advised you to remember to breathe? Yes?’

‘He... The Grandsire, he told me that he doesn’t think, even at his peak, that he could have defended himself against Karna...’

‘And against you?’

‘He would have preferred to fight me, as I am now, than fight Karna.’

‘Naturally, Arjuna. Only a blind fool would prefer to engage Karna.’

Arjuna’s jaw dropped.

‘But naturally, Arjuna. Karna’s hands are quicker than yours, and he is more accurate.’

‘You think that too?’

‘It’s obvious to anyone who has seen you both take up a bow. To anyone with eyes to see. Don’t worry, we are rare enough! But anyone who can look at you two without being turned by love or fear can see that. However, as the Grandsire knows, there’s more to the art of fighting than speed and accuracy. You can improve both of these, Arjuna. But you are too lazy. It has come too easily to you. Don’t you know how hard it is for someone like Karna to keep up his skill? He has to exercise every day to keep his back supple. You are ambidextrous; your body is balanced because you can swap your side. Ours are not. If I trained now with a bow, in a month I’d be on my back.’

‘Why haven’t you told me this before?’

Krishna did not reply.

‘You think that if I worked I could become fast enough? Accurate enough?’

‘That’s certainly possible... At least they didn’t take the great Gandiva away from you.’

‘No, they left us our weapons and armour — I don’t think Dur would have dared ask for Gandiva, let alone take it! Even Yudhi wouldn’t have been able to save his life!’

‘But where are you going to go? Who can train you?’ Krishna shook his head slowly. ‘What did the Grandsire advise?’

‘He didn’t... He didn’t want to pursue the matter. I thought perhaps that Parashu ―’

‘Parashu? He normally will only teach brahmanas. You know that?’

‘But perhaps I could disguise myself — Karna disguised himself.’

Krishna laughed. ‘Disguised? By all accounts Parashu knew who Karna was better than Karna. It’s not beyond the limits of possibility that Parashu might make an exception in your case... You would have to be open with him: no disguise. But there is someone who would be even better than Parashu.’

‘Who? Tell me!’

‘At least, as regards your technique with the bow. This man could bring you to your natural perfection. You need someone who has a good enough eye to analyse your action.’

‘Who?’

‘Karna, of course.’

‘Karna?’

‘Yes.’

Arjuna laughed. ‘He would teach me so that I would become good enough to defeat him? You’re joking, Krishna!’

‘I suppose I am, but not for the reason that you think. The danger is that you would become good enough not to defeat him. Like the Grandsire when he fought Parashu, perhaps... Karna himself would certainly help you if you asked him.’

‘In order to feel that he would be defeating a worthy opponent?’

‘No. For no other reason than your asking. Karna is a very generous man. Underneath his skin, Arjuna...’

‘Generous?’

‘Perhaps that isn’t quite the word, because it doesn’t cost him as it costs other people. But if you did ask him to watch you, and he agreed, he would put out of his mind all past and all future, and give you all his present. Regardless of the consequences. Even if it meant that you could kill him. Which in your case might well be the consequence. If that isn’t generous, what is? Karna can do what very few people are able to do. He can step out of his skin to join you; and then climb back inside and walk away.’ Krishna paused. ‘No. That would be a bad idea. I wasn’t really serious. Pity, though.’ For a moment the smile left Krishna’s face. ‘No... You must disguise yourself, Arjuna. Go to Maya, and from there send word to Parashu. In Maya you will be safe, even if you are discovered. Send word to Parashu, but be perfectly honest with him. Absolutely honest. Explain exactly what you want from him, and precisely why. Say that you need to defeat the Kurus, and, in particular, that you need to defeat Karna. Say that you would like him to visit you in Maya, to teach you.’

‘You think he would come down? He lives in the mountains above, doesn’t he?’

‘He may accept. If he sends word to you to join him in the mountains, refuse. Don’t go. Meet him only if he is prepared to come to you.’

‘Why should he want to teach me?’

‘Why? Arjuna, I can’t believe your modesty today! You may not be quite as fast as Karna, nor quite as accurate. But believe me, to watch you empty a quiver is like nothing else in the world. Parashu may not be able to resist the opportunity to see you.’

‘So you think that at least I look good?’

Krishna bellowed with laughter. ‘If you fought Karna, even he would find it difficult to resist the temptation to put his bow down to watch you. It’s like seeing, for the very first time, a tiger spring. But that’s your problem, Arjuna. The tiger is not the least concerned with looking good. That reminds me — my little nephew asked me to ask you for permission so that I may take him to look at some tigers. My sister is worried.’

‘Of course Abhi can go with you. I’m sure I can reassure Subhadra.’

At that moment a sound distracted them. Krishna and Arjuna both turned to face it. Saha emerged into the clearing, carrying on his back a bundle of small twigs.

‘Krishna!’ he cried. He lowered the bundle carefully onto the stone terrace where they were standing. ‘Krishna, when did you arrive? Have you eaten? Arjuna, why have you not fed him?’

‘We have been talking about Yudhi,’ said Krishna.

‘Krishna, if anyone can make him speak, you can. You must try! I’m afraid that the longer he goes without speaking, the less chance there is of him ever recovering his senses.’

‘I will try, Saha, I will try.’

‘I beg you, Krishna...’

‘But Saha, it may not be his senses which need recovery. He may not need to recover anything. You do understand that? But I’ll see what I can do.’ Krishna now caught sight of Yudhi approaching with his own bundle. ‘Saha,’ whispered Krishna, ‘take your wood in.’

The Pandavas had made their home in what remained of an ancient temple, mostly consumed by the forest. Saha dragged the bundle through a low doorway. It was set in a wall which he and Bhima had restored from the broken pieces of stone scattered about the clearing.

Yudhi set his bundle down. Arjuna dragged it inside, leaving Yudhi and Krishna to stare at each other.

Yudhi did not move. But when Arjuna came out again Yudhi allowed his brother to guide him around the side of their home. Krishna followed.

‘There is a shady spot here where Yudhi likes to sit,’ explained Arjuna to Krishna. Arjuna sat his brother down upon a smooth slab of stone. Yudhi turned to watch a lizard shoot away. Krishna sat down on a stone opposite, and indicated to Arjuna to find room beside his brother.

‘So,’ said Krishna, ‘this is the man who will not talk.’ He looked steadily at Yudhi. ‘They tell me that you are now as silent as Vyasa himself.’

Krishna turned to Arjuna.

‘Did I tell you about the time I met Vyasa? You know of course that for some years he pretended to be mad. Mind you, I think you have to be mad to pretend to be mad for so long, but still... Eventually I tracked him down, sitting on the ground in a forest much like this one. So... I sat down facing him... as I am sitting now, facing you two. After what seemed like half a day I managed to catch his eye. Yes, that was my moment. I said to him:

‘People either say that you are a genius, or that you are mad... Either they say that you are possessed of the greatest wisdom, with the understanding to see through yourself as easily as through others; and with the power to escape your self as easily as from others. Or, if not this, they say that you are possessed by madness, that you are unable to control the writhing fantasies that fill your brain, unable to restrain them to the paths of ordinary men. I have come, Vyasa, to ask you a question; to which, since I am but an ordinary man, unable to shake off the yoke either of this solid world or of my own fragile fantasies, I crave your answer. Vyasa, I ask you this: are you a mad man, or are you a genius?’

Krishna paused to look Yudhi in the eye.

‘Hardly had these words escaped my lips,’ continued Krishna, ‘when Vyasa smiled, and replied:

‘A genius is but a mad man who can hide his fantasies long enough for them to become true. I’ve hidden mine so long they’ve become false.’

Arjuna stared wide-eyed at Krishna.

‘Is that true? Did Vyasa actually speak to you?’

Krishna’s eyes flashed briefly with vexation. He stood up, beckoning Arjuna to join him.

‘Of course not!’ he whispered impatiently to Arjuna. ‘Vyasa hasn’t spoken a word in years. Arjuna, leave us, please! And don’t let the others disturb us!’

As Krishna sat down, Arjuna reluctantly turned away, disappearing round the side of the temple wall.

‘Wait!’ cried Krishna. Arjuna reappeared. ‘I need some food!’ Krishna got up again and whispered to Arjuna. Then, as Arjuna left once more, he returned to his seat opposite Yudhi.

52 The silent princess

Krishna turned to catch the sound of Arjuna’s receding footsteps. Still looking away from Yudhi, he began now to speak softly to him.

‘Yudhi, I am going to tell you a story. It is the story of a princess who, like you, would not speak. For most of her life she had used her power of speech; in fact, she had been a most kind and dutiful daughter to her parents. But one day, in her eighteenth year, no one knew why, she suddenly stopped speaking. From that day on neither her parents nor her friends, not even her servants, had ever heard her utter a single word.

‘The king and queen consulted brahmanas, munis, rishis... But none of them was able to make the princess talk, or even to offer any sign of hope. Indeed, many of these holy men, to the annoyance of the king, rather admired the girl’s resolution.

‘Now, although she was quite mute, this girl was, it has to be said, quite unutterably beautiful. And thus she was able to attract a large number of energetic suitors who came from far and wide desiring her for a wife. Naturally, because of her silence, she was not able to conduct her own swayamwara. You see, she would not even nod her head, or make any communication for which language existed. So the king, growing every day more anxious to find a way to make her talk again, decided to grant his daughter as wife to any man who could make her talk.

‘Many men, young, old, rich, poor, beautiful, ugly, all came to try to draw language from her lips. The king allowed each one to spend a single night in his daughter’s company. A witness would be present. To observe, of course, and to protect the princess: for these suitors were not permitted to touch her. But they could try anything else. If the witness reported in the morning that even a single word had issued from her lips, she would be given in marriage to the successful suitor.

‘These men did indeed try everything. Some talked of themselves, of their accomplishments, filling the whole night with their stories, until the eyelids of the beautiful princess began to sink into sleep. Some played music to her on fine instruments; some sang songs, or recited rhymes. Some danced before her. Some tried to entice her by means of their own beauty, removing parts of their clothing to display their attributes. But in every case, when the royal peacock was heard heralding the dawn, the princess had been moved to make not one single utterance.

‘Well, as you can imagine, after a few months of this varied and prodigious entertainment, night after night, the poor girl grew ill: her skin lost its lustre; her eyes cast broad black shadows on her cheeks. Her hair became dull and tangled. The king was desperate.

‘Then, one day, a great rishi visited the kingdom. The king implored him to make his daughter talk. But the rishi wasn’t interested. Eventually, however, the king prevailed upon him at least to meet his daughter. The rishi was taken into her presence, looked her in the eye, and then withdrew immediately to speak to the king.

‘Your daughter derides all these suitors, who have come here wishing to marry her without ever having heard her speak.

‘How do you know? asked the king.

‘It is written in her eyes, said the rishi. She has no need of speech. She despises the deceit of language. The pratings of these foolish men who come to woo her do nothing but confirm her dedication to silence. It is better to leave her in this noble state. Take heart: she is not unhappy.

‘"But is she happy?"

‘The rishi wouldn’t answer.

‘Would she not find happiness through the pleasures that a husband could provide? continued the king. Is she doomed to forego that bliss which is every woman’s right? As the rishi remained unforthcoming, the king grew more desperate. Is she to be denied the laughter of children? The comforts even of friendship?

‘Perhaps, said the rishi, there is a way... He paused, and thought hard for a few moments. Perhaps... if she can but be shown where action and inaction meet... to make her very silence talk... Yes, there is just a chance. Yes... What you must do is this. Continue to offer her as a wife to any man who can succeed in making her talk. But if he fails, from now on, any unsuccessful suitor shall have his tongue cut out.

‘The king was horrified! She will never agree to that! Then, after a moment’s reflection, he added, You think she may talk to try to save them?

‘"No. She will neither talk nor act to save them. Why should she? She is not responsible for the actions and deceptions of this world. She is not responsible for your designs. You will impose the condition, not she. You will have the sentence executed, not she. And the foolish men who try her silence will try themselves to silence. They all will have the chance to save themselves. Their folly cannot be held to her account."

‘Then why?...

‘It will cut down their number, and improve the qualities of their performance. She must regain her health. You want her to talk? Then this is the way. Do as I say.

‘So, from that time on, any suitor who failed to make her talk by dawn would have to submit to this terrible fate.

‘As expected, few men were now prepared to brave this consequence. And the princess did indeed seem slowly to recover her health. But, oh yes, there were still those few, brave or foolhardy enough to make the attempt.

‘A poet, an accomplished man, who was known and respected throughout the land, arose to the challenge and spent a night with the beautiful princess. He recited in the most attractive terms the story of Rama and Sita. All night his voice fluttered and fell like a bird on a breeze. As dawn approached a single tear began to travel down the cheek of the princess. The suitor, seeing her tear, and feeling the hour, quickly brought his verses to conclusion, uniting Rama and Sita in everlasting love.

‘As the tear reached the lips of the princess, he saw them tremble. Then he said to her:

Answer truly my unworthy tongue, condemning me with silence,

Than let pity loosen yours to lie one word to tie your sentence.

‘The tear rolled on past her lips; but as it rounded her jaw, before setting finally beneath her noble chin, it caught the first sparkles of the rising sun. The peacock screamed, and the poor man was led away.

‘For some months after the sad fate of this fine poet, no suitors came. Then a renowned musician arrived to try his luck.

‘All night long he sang to the princess, accompanying his peerless voice with a two-stringed instrument on which he was able to conjure everything, from a single bird to a whole city.

‘As dawn approached a single tear began its journey down the cheek of the princess. Seeing her tear, and feeling the hour, her suitor sounded one final chord on his instrument, and as the notes slowly died he softly sang:

Two voices at discord sound sweet in the one song of silence.

‘The peacock screamed, and the poor man was led away.

‘After this tragedy the king and queen lost hope. Months passed, and no man dared to think he should succeed where these had failed.’

Krishna paused to study Yudhi. He continued:

‘Then, one day, a tired and hungry suta arrived, unwashed, unkempt, at the gates of the royal palace. He told the guards he wished to make the silent princess speak. At first he was not allowed in. But the king’s chariot driver, also a suta, took pity on him, and mentioned the incident to his royal master.

‘Bring him in, let us see what he has to say for himself. We cannot afford to leave a single hair uncounted.

‘He was brought, still smelling of the road, into the hall. The king and queen were there and also the princess. The queen shuddered at the sight of this strange suitor, but the princess showed no response.

‘You must know, said the king, that my daughter is determined to despise the deceit of all discourse. She will remain silent rather than indulge in the lies of language. How can you, a mere suta, where so many more noble and more talented have failed, even dare to hope that through her wakened voice she will choose you as husband?

‘I will show her where action meets inaction, where silence cries out loud.

‘Struck by these words, the king agreed to let him make his suit. He summoned his servants to bathe and dress him in fine silks. But these offers were refused.

‘I will not loose my clothing or let water touch my skin until the princess is betrothed to me. All I need is a witness who is trustworthy.

‘As the servants led the unwashed suitor away to his room, they laughed at the idea of their princess taking this reeking vagrant for a husband.

‘That night the suitor entered the apartments of the princess, accompanied by the witness who would watch over the proceedings. The suitor bowed courteously to the princess, and sat himself down opposite her on some cushions. The witness also sat down, to one side, between the suitor and the princess.

‘Both the witness and the princess watched this unusual suitor. But he did nothing but sit, staring vacantly at the ground. After a while it was clear that he was becoming drowsy.

‘Wake me an hour before dawn, he said to the witness, so that I may prepare then for my tongue to be removed. He lay down his head and fell asleep.

‘All night the princess watched her sleeping suitor, and all night the witness watched the princess. If at any time she were to utter a word, he was of course obliged to note it.

‘An hour before dawn the witness roused the suitor, who yawned, smiling happily at the watchful princess.

‘Has she spoken yet? he asked.

‘Not a word, replied the witness.

‘The suitor now turned to the witness and spoke directly to him, quite ignoring the princess. I would be grateful if I could conduct my last hour of speech with you in conversation, said the suitor.

‘I am not supposed to converse with you, replied the witness. I am here only to watch and listen.

‘Very well, in that case listen, for my tongue needs an ear for its last hour.

‘You should address rather the princess, suggested the witness.

‘Surely she is deaf, and quite incapable of speech. I will not waste my conversation on a statue. You listen, for my conversation is much admired in the land where I come from. At any rate, I shall not waste my power of speech while I still have it: I will, if you allow me, tell you an old tale.

‘Very well, said the witness, I will listen.

‘"In that case, it may interest you to know that three men were once travelling together: a shudra, a vaishya, and a brahmana. They needed to cross a thick jungle, and when night fell they found a clearing in which they made a fire and prepared for sleep. But because the forest was infested with wild animals and thieves, they apportioned a third of the night during which each would sit awake to keep watch. For the watchful weak are safer than the sleeping strong. The shudra was assigned the first watch.

‘"There was a good moon that night, and to pass the time the shudra with his knife carved a log, which was lying nearby, into the shape of a young woman.

‘"When next it was the turn of the vaishya, in order to keep himself awake he decided to clothe the carving by cutting and sewing up some spare material in his bag. By the time his watch was over, the carving was lying well dressed upon the ground.

‘"At the start of the third watch the brahmana was surprised to find this wooden girl lying beside him. By the light of the moon he gazed in wonder at her silent features. ‘Oh that she could speak to me!’ he wished. He resolved therefore to spend his watch in supplication to Shiva, pleading for this wish to be granted.

‘"When the sun rose, waking up the other two, they were astonished to find a living girl beside them, exactly in the shape of the shudra’s carving, wearing the clothes carefully cut out for her by the vaishya.

‘"The girl asked who she was, and the men explained how her existence had come into being. Each of the men, however, wished to claim her for himself.

‘"‘I carved her out of wood. Before me she was nothing but a shapeless log. I gave her the beautiful features you see. Look! Her mouth, her eyes, they are all as I carved out. My right to her is therefore greater than either of yours.’

‘"‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed the vaishya. ‘Before me she was nothing but a bare log of wood. Without clothes on her she would have been too cold to inspire life. I made her ready to become alive, so mine is the greatest right.’

‘"‘I think not,’ said the brahmana. ‘For it is to me that she owes her power of speech. Without my prayers she would have remained in this forest a silent carving. It was I who pleaded with Shiva that she should be given the gift of speech, and it is her speech which marks her out from the plants and animals around us. But... since through me she has acquired the power of speech, let her exercise it, let her decide for herself, rather than cast her fate to the fire as though she were a lifeless lump of wood.’"

‘The suitor paused to cast a quick glance at the princess. She sat silently, dry eyed. Her lips were closed tight.

‘Well? asked the witness. What did she decide?

‘What did she decide? Oh, I am too tired to do justice to her arguments. I am not accustomed to rising at this early hour. I will tell you tonight, when we dine at the table of your king, I will finish the story then ―

‘But you won’t be able to! Remember, your tongue will shortly be cut out!

‘Yes, you’re quite right, I’d forgotten ―

‘Quick! It’s practically dawn. The sky is beginning to lighten. Finish your story, please!

‘"No, I cannot continue now, there is no time. If only this wretched princess would speak, then you could hear the end of it... I have an idea... I will finish the story for you — tonight... Listen, you would like to hear the end of it?"

‘Certainly...

‘"Very well, all you have to do is to say that you heard the princess say something."

‘The witness glanced quickly at the princess and lowered his voice to a whisper.

‘"I can’t do that!"

‘Why are you whispering? She can’t hear you. She is as mute as a lump of wood and just as deaf. It is clear that she has lost her senses.

‘The witness nervously glanced back at the princess. Her eyes did seem to have widened slightly, but otherwise there were no marks of understanding about her.

‘But what will the king do? whispered the witness. "If I say she has spoken — she clearly won’t speak in front of him, will she?"

‘Don’t worry about her, you have nothing to fear, said the suitor. Just say that she uttered a sound, as if to say something, but that you couldn’t quite make it out. I will back you up, believe me! And say that we therefore need another night. They will surely think that this is all very promising, and surely they will ask us to spend another night with her. So tonight I will be able to finish the story!

‘And ―

‘"And tomorrow morning you can say that on the second night, sadly, she did not make a sound. I will then lose my tongue tomorrow instead of today, and everything will be fine! You have nothing to lose!"

‘The witness agreed, and a moment later they heard the royal peacock scream...’

Krishna cried out in imitation of the bird, giving Yudhi quite a start. As Yudhi composed himself, Krishna continued.

‘The court assembled to hear what had occurred. Almost everything went to plan. The princess as usual was silent; nevertheless, the king agreed to allow the suitor another night. Being a suspicious man, however, he stipulated that on this occasion an additional witness should be present.

‘So, that night, when the suitor was again taken to the princess, smelling worse than ever, he had with him two witnesses. The first witness was impatient to hear the end of the story, but the suitor insisted on repeating the whole story for the benefit of the second witness. Eventually he came to the point where he had left off.

‘So, what did she decide? asked the second witness.

‘"The young girl said:

‘‘It is true that my form was sculpted by the shudra. Although I shall always be grateful to the shudra, for shaping me, there are many men who can carve wood. It is true that without my clothes I could not have survived the cold night, and would have been unable to receive the spirit of life. Although I shall always be grateful to the vaishya, for clothing me, there are many men who can cut and sow cloth. To you both I owe gratitude. But to this brahmana I owe much more. A man who can command the respect of Shiva, the great destroyer, such a man is rare. The work of the shudra and the vaishya put the thought into this brahmana: but had he prayed to Shiva all alone in this forest, with neither company nor carving, Shiva would have destroyed nothingness and brought me into being out of nought, without the help of the shudra or the vaishya. Therefore I owe my life, my speech, and my choice to this brahmana.’

‘On finishing his story the suitor quickly grew drowsy. Please wake me an hour before dawn, he asked the witnesses. I am too tired to continue awake for much longer. With that he fell asleep on the cushions.

‘All night the princess watched her sleeping suitor, and all night the witnesses watched the princess. If at any time she were to utter a word, they were of course obliged to note it.

‘An hour before dawn the witnesses roused the suitor, who yawned, smiling happily at the watchful princess.

‘Has she spoken yet? he asked.

‘Not a word, replied the second witness.

‘The suitor turned to the witnesses and spoke directly to them, quite ignoring the princess. I would be grateful if I could conduct my last hour of speech with you in conversation, he said.

‘We are not supposed to converse with you, replied the second witness. We are here only to watch and listen.

‘Very well, in that case listen, for my tongue needs an ear for its last hour.

‘We will listen, said the second witness. But speak loudly so that the princess hears you — she may yet save you, he added, without any conviction.

‘So the suitor embarked upon a second story:

‘"Three friends were travelling together through a mountain pass. One of them carried a translucent gemstone which enabled him to see events happening at a great distance, simply by turning and twisting this remarkable gem. The second was leading a huge horse on which they could all fly across the land like birds. The third carried a jar of clarified butter made from the milk of one of Vishnu’s cows. Anointed with it even the dead could be revived.

‘"The three friends stopped when they reached the top of the pass. The one with the gemstone looked into it, and saw in a distant land a body being honoured by a huge crowd of mourners.

‘"‘Quick!’ he cried to his friend leading the horse. ‘Let us fly to this place so that we can pay homage to this person who clearly in life must have been very great.’

‘"The three friends climbed with their baggage upon the horse. In a few moments they were transported to this distant land. They joined the procession of mourners, and asked them why they were so sad. ‘Surely, a great life should be celebrated,’ they said.

‘"‘It is the young and lovely daughter of our king who has just died,’ the mourners replied. ‘It was a terrible tragedy. She swallowed her tongue and began to choke. The king offered her in marriage to anyone who could save her. But it is now too late.’

‘"When the three friends heard this they immediately sought out the king, who gave them permission to try whatever they could. The one with the clarified butter anointed the girl’s forehead, and at once she started to breathe. But as the king and queen began to rejoice, our three friends began to argue.

‘"‘If it were not for my gemstone, we would never have even known of this tragedy. She should be my bride!’

‘"‘If it were not for my horse, we would never have arrived in time. She should be mine!’

‘"‘If it were not for my clarified butter, what good would it have done to arrive here in time? It is I who should be her husband. But let us seek out her opinion in the matter.’"

‘The suitor paused to cast a quick glance at the princess, who had been listening intently. Her lips trembled for a moment, but her eyes were dry.

‘Well? asked the second witness. What did she decide?

‘What did she decide? Look! Dawn is almost upon us. I fear I cannot explain her reasoning to you in time. Let me tell you tonight instead.

‘"Tonight? The second witness looked in amazement at the suitor. You forget that you will have no tongue tonight. Quickly! Finish your story now!"

‘Are you sure the princess has said nothing all this time? asked the suitor, hopefully.

‘This night she has said nothing, I’m afraid, confirmed the second witness. The first witness nodded in agreement.

‘Well, said the suitor, I have an idea. All you have to do is to tell the king that she uttered one word. Then my tongue will be saved, and you can hear the end of the story.

‘You must be mad! whispered the second witness.

‘Why are you lowering your voice? asked the suitor, loudly. You must know that she cannot hear a word we say.

‘But she surely can, contradicted the second witness. I have seen her shed tears when sending some of her suitors to their fate.

‘But even if she can hear, continued the suitor, "she can have no possible interest in contradicting your evidence. For if she can hear she probably herself wishes to hear the end of the story, but cannot make the request without gaining a revolting suta for a husband. This way you and she will be able to hear the end of the story without such a disgusting outcome!"

‘The second witness lowered his voice again. They say that she has no stomach for deception. She is surely bound to expose us.

‘"What? And speak? That is precisely what the king most ardently desires, for which, being a man of his word, he will reward me handsomely by giving me his daughter in marriage. And such a daughter would surely wish to respect the conditions laid down by her father."

‘The two witnesses consulted for a moment.

‘Very well, said the second witness. We will say that she definitely uttered a word, but that we couldn’t quite decipher it. We will need another night. But tomorrow morning you must accept your fate.

‘A moment later they heard the royal peacock scream...’

Again Krishna imitated the peacock’s cry, and again Yudhi started at the piercing sound.

‘The court assembled to hear what had occurred. Almost everything went according to plan; the princess was silent as usual; the king granted a third night; but this time he called for a third witness, his very own chariot driver, whom he trusted with his life, the very same man who had first taken pity on the bedraggled suta at the palace gates.

‘There is one thing I must ask of you this time, said the suitor to the king. "Twice now I have caused your daughter to utter a sound in front of witnesses. For two days and two nights I have not let water near my skin. It is beginning to itch. If you are a man of your word, you surely must give your daughter to me if these witnesses report her speech tonight. I will not risk my tongue a third time for her sake, just to be made to undergo the ordeal again."

‘"But what if she remains silent with us? asked the king. You see that she is standing here before us as unresponsive as ever."

‘Perhaps it is only with me that she wishes to converse. Cut out my tongue now, I entreat you! But do not break your word a third time. Remember, you promised her to me if she said just one word.

‘Very well, conceded the king, embarrassed to be reminded of his promise. You may have her for wife tomorrow, providing the witnesses report that she has spoken to you tonight.

‘Even if she remains silent in front of you?

‘Whether or not she speaks in front of us, assured the king, you may have her for wife if she speaks to you.

‘That night, after repeating the story for the benefit of the third witness, the suitor continued his tale.

‘"The king’s daughter, now quite revived by the clarified butter, answered thus:

‘"‘Although I am eternally grateful to the owners of the gemstone and the horse, what good would it have been if these two had arrived without the third, who revived me with the clarified butter?’

‘"‘But without us he would never have got here in time to revive you,’ argued the owner of the gemstone. ‘It was my stone which revealed the mourners all around you. Without it we would never have come to pay homage to you.’

‘"‘In that case,’ replied the king’s daughter, ‘I should be given in marriage to my mourners. For without them you would not have noticed me.’

‘"‘But my flying horse brought us here,’ said the owner of the flying horse. ‘Without it you would not be speaking now!’

‘"‘In that case, should I marry your horse?’

‘"‘I am my horse’s master,’ said the owner of the horse. ‘What is due to my horse is due to me!’

‘"‘Without your father you would not have been born,’ said the king’s daughter. ‘Is your father alive?’

‘"‘Yes ―’

‘‘In that case, clearly, I should marry your father, since not only is he your master, but without him you would not have existed to own the horse that brought you. You see,’ continued the king’s daughter, ‘many things were necessary for the moment of my revival to be reached. Even my own tongue, which choked me, was vital. Should I take my own tongue in marriage? But when the moment for my revival arrived, only one thing sufficed, and that was your friend’s clarified butter. Since the butter cannot speak for itself to claim me for wife, I will take the man who anointed me with it.’

‘And so saying, the suitor concluded his second tale. As before he asked his witnesses to wake him one hour before dawn. Then he fell asleep.’

Krishna interrupted his story at this point in order to stretch his legs. He looked up at the sky and saw Yudhi’s gaze follow his. Krishna sat down again and continued.

‘All night the princess watched her sleeping suitor, and all night the witnesses watched the princess.

‘An hour before dawn they roused the suitor, who yawned, smiling happily at the watchful