Chapter
10
The Krishna Mystery
Bhīmasena (Kuntī's
second son) managed to muster up some courage.
He said, "Brother, grant me leave and I shall
proceed to Dvārakā in an instant and
return quick bringing full information of all
that has happened to remove your fear." Even
while Bhīma was praying on bended knees
for permission, the sun set and the lamps
started emitting feeble light, from every place.
Meanwhile, a guard
from the main entrance rushed in, announcing
that Arjuna (third son of Pāndu
and Kuntī) had come and that he was
approaching the royal apartment. Every one rose
as if they had suddenly come to life, they
hurried forward to meet Arjuna, thirsty for news
from Dvārakā. Arjuna came in,
depressed and despondent, devoid of any sign of
joy, without looking the brothers in the face,
he rolled over the feet of Dharmaraja.
Dharmaraja
noticed the signs which confirmed his fear and
became eager to inquire further. He asked about
the welfare of friends and kinsmen at Dvārakā.
Arjuna could not rise or turn his head.
The brothers saw the feet of Dharmaraja
streaming with the tears shed by him and were
shocked into immobility. Dharmaraja lost all
hold on his mind. He tried to lift Arjuna,
shaking him by the shoulders, he shouted in
agony into his ear, "Brother, what has happened
- what has happened, what has happened to the Yadavas?
Tell us about that. Our hearts are about to
burst. Save us from terrible anguish."
But, Arjuna did
not reply. He could not rise or even spell out
words. Dharmaraja however, continued
raining questions on him, inquiring about the
welfare of the Yadavas and others,
mentioning them by name and asking about each
one separately. Arjuna did not react even to
this desperate fusillade. He showed no response.
He did not raise his face and looked at his
brothers.
"You need not tell
us the rest, but, this you must tell us, what
has Vāsudeva directed you to tell us,
what is his message to us, tell us that",
Dharmaraja appealed. Arjuna could not bear it
any longer. The grief that he had held back so
long gushed out in full flood. "We have Vāsudeva
(Krishna) no more. O, we are
orphaned. We could not keep Him, we have no more
luck", he said and fell on his face, sobbing on
the floor. (See also S'rīmad Bhāgavatam Canto 1, Chapter
14: The disappearance of Lord Krishna
& Canto
11, Chapter 31)
Sahadeva
(the youngest Pāndava, one of the two
twin sons of Madri with Nakula)
grasped the situation and its possibilities and
he closed all doors that led into the Hall, he
engaged himself in attempting to soothe the
distress.
"Alas, that we
lived to hear this, what a fate; o, destiny, how
could you treat the world so cruelly?" the
brothers lamented together. "Lord, why have you
deserted the Pāndavas thus? Why this
breach of trust? We have survived to hear this
news, this is the result of the accumulation of
sin during many generations", they asked and
asserted. Each one was submerged in his own
grief, in his own despair. The Hall was filled
with gloomy silence.
It was
Dharmaraja who braved it first. Wiping the
tears that filled his eyes, he questioned Arjuna
in pathetic tones. "Have you news of the
condition of the parents, and of Nanda and
Yas'odā and of the other Yadavas?
Tell us about them. They must be broken with the
grief of separation from the Lord. When we too
have been reduced to this helpless depth, what
can we say of them? They must be sunk in
unfathomable despair. How can they keep body and
breath together? Why refer to individuals? The
entire city of Dvārakā must have sunk in
the sea of inconsolable grief."
Dharmaraja
was sobbing with sorrow as he pictured to
himself those scenes. Seeing him in this
condition, Arjuna said, "Brother, the
people of Dvārakā are far more lucky
than ourselves. We are the least fortunate. We
are the only hardened beings that have withstood
the shock of the news of the departure of Vāsudeva
(Krishna) from this world. The rest left the
world even before news came of His departure."
At this Dharmaraja
exclaimed, "Hari, Hari, o God, what is it you
said now? What is this catastrophe? I do not
understand anything ..... Did the sea rise and
engulf Dvārakā? Or, did any wild
barbarian horde invade and overwhelm the city
and slaughter the population? Arjuna, tell us
what happened. Put an end to our frightful
surmises, which raise up awful pictures."
Dharmaraja held the hand of Arjuna and turned
his face up in an attempt to make him answer his
queries.
Arjuna said, "No,
no sea got furious and swallowed Dvārakā,
no ruler led his army against that city.
Wickedness and vileness grew madly wild among
the Yadavas themselves and excited their
strife and hate to such an extent that they
slaughtered each other with their own weapons."
Dharmaraja asked him, "Arjuna,
there must be some overpowering force that urged
the Yadava clan, young and old, to
sacrifice themselves in this holocaust. No
effect can happen without a cause, isn't it"
and, waited to listen to the details of what had
actually led to the slaughter.
Arjuna
paused a little to overcome the grief surging
within him and then, he began his account of the
events. The other three brothers drew near and
heard the tragic tale. "I learnt that day that
not even the tiniest event can happen unless
willed by Vāsudeva. I got fully
convinced of this. He is the Sutradhari,
the holder of the strings that move the puppets
and make them act their roles, but, He seats
Himself among the spectators and pretends He is
unaware of the plot or story or cast. The
characters cannot deviate a dot from His
directions, His will guides and determines every
single movement and gesture. The varying
emotions and events on the stage by which the
drama unrolls itself affect the hearts of those
who witness the play, but, they do not cause a
ruffle in the heart of the Sutradhari (director
of the play).
He decides what
this person should say or that person should do
and He prompts in them the appropriate words and
deeds. And, the consequence of the karma
performed and inherited by each individual from
previous lives also adds its quota to this
destiny. The Yadavas who are our own
kith and kin were spiritual personages, full of
devotion to God as you all know well. Perhaps,
some day, some sage had cast a curse on them, or
else some day some dire sin was committed by
them.... For, how else can we explain this
sudden upset in their history, this unexpected
tragedy?
They performed a
magnificent sacrifice (yajńa) at
Prabhāsa-kshetra ('splendor', place from
where Krishna left this earth); for seven full
days, the yajńa was celebrated in
unprecedented pomp and style. The Valedictory
Offering in the Sacred Fire was poured in
true vedic grandeur in the presence of Lord
Krishna Himself; the participants and priests
performed later the Ceremonial Bath in holy
waters; the brahmins then received their share
of the yajńa offerings and distributed
it to the Yadavas also. Everything went
off, in an atmosphere of perfect calm,
contentment, and joy.
Towards noon, brahmins
were served with food. Afterwards, the Yadavas
seated themselves in long lines to partake of
the feast. During the feast, as ill-luck would
have it, some of the Yadavas filled
themselves with drink and lost self-control so
much that they mistook their own kinsmen as
their foes. They started quarrels which raged
into fights of severe fierceness. It must have
been in the plan of God, for however unruly and
vile a man might be, he would not slaughter with
his own hands his own children and parents. O,
the horror of it! In the general melee that
ensued, son killed father, father killed son,
brother slew brother, son-in-law killed
father-in-law, father-in-law killed son-in-law,
in one insane orgy of blind hate, until there
was no one left alive!" Arjuna could not speak
further, he leant against the wall, he held his
head, bursting with pain and grief, between his
pressing palms. (See also S'rīmad
Bhāgavatam Canto 11, Chapter 30: The
Disappearance of the Yadu-dynasty)
Dharmaraja
heard this account with anguish and amazement.
He placed his hand on Arjuna's back, and said,
"What is this that you are saying, it is an
unbelievable story! Since your tongue will never
speak untruth, I am forced to put faith in its
correctness, or else, how can we ever imagine
such a sudden transformation of character and
such a lightning massacre? I have never seen or
heard anywhere else such intensity of mutual
friendship as marked the Yadava clan.
Besides they do not deviate in the least from
the path marked out for them by Krishna.
They will not deflect from it even on the most
frantically furious occasions. That such people
should, in the very presence of Krishna,
regardless of all canons [norms] of good
behavior, beat one another to death is strange
indeed, such a turn of events comes only when
the end of the world is near".
"Well, Arjuna,
could not Krishna stop the fight and
advise them to desist? Did He attempt to bring
about some compromise between the factions and
send them back to their places? Krishna
is the greatest adept in the arts of war and
peace, is it not? That He did not try to stop
this tragedy makes me wonder more, at this awful
tale of destruction."
Dharmaraja
was lost in sorrow; he sat with his head resting
on his clenched fist, the hand placed on the
knee; his eyes were so full of tears that they
rolled continuously down his cheeks. Arjuna
tried to speak some words of consolation. "Maharaja,
you are aware of the glory and the grace of Krishna,
but yet, you ask questions and entertain doubts,
whether He did this or that, what can I say in
reply? The fate of the Yadavas is the
same as the fate of our own clan. Weren't we and
Kaurava brothers? We had kinsmen who were
well-wishers on both sides and we had this same
S'yāmasundara (name of Krishna as the
'beautiful dark one') in our midst, but yet, we
had to go through the Kurukshetra battle. Can we not see
that this war would not have happened, had He
willed it so? The forty lakhs [Hindi: lakh: one
hundred thousand] of warriors who died on the
field of battle would not have been lost then,
isn't it? Did we ever wish to rule over this
land after slaughtering all these? Nothing can
ever happen without His express command. No one
can cross His will or act against His command.
This world is the
stage on which each one acts the role He has
allotted him, on which each one struts about for
the time given by Him and each one has to obey
His instructions without fail or falter. We may
think in pride that we have done this or that by
ourselves, but, the truth is, everything happens
as He wills."
When Arjuna
concluded, Dharmaraja thought aloud.
"Arjuna, many motives dragged us into the Mahābhāratha war. We tried our best
through diplomacy and peaceful means to regain
our kingdom, our status and what was
legitimately our due. We bore patiently many
insults and discomfitures. We had to wander in
the jungle as exiles. Through divine grace, we
escaped many a plot laid to kill us. They tried
arson and poison on us. They heaped public
ignominy on our Queen. They broke our hearts by
systematic ill-treatment.
Still, there are
but three reasons for the final fight every
where: wealth, dominion, and women. But, take
the instance of the Yadavas. They had no
such reason to fall out among themselves in
mortal combat. It appears as if destiny was the
only over-powering reason for this cataclysm.
The Yadavas
were rolling in plenty. They had no lack of
grain or gold. And their wives? They were models
of virtue, faithful and devoted. They never
deviated from the wishes or commands of their
husbands. They could not bring insult or
discomfiture to their lords from any quarter.
How then could faction and internecine strife
raise their heads so suddenly among them?"
Arjuna
replied: "My dear brother! We see the outer
circumstances, the processes which result in the
final event and in our ignorance we judge that
this set of causes produced these effects. We
guess the nature of emotions and feelings from
what we gauge from events. But circumstances,
events, emotions and feelings are all simply
'instruments' in His hands, serving His will and
His purpose. When the moment comes, He uses them
for His plan, and brings about the fight He has
willed. He is the embodiment of kāla or
time. He comes as the Master of Time
and, through some denouement of the plot, He
finishes the drama. That which brought about
birth brings about death too. He finds reason
for both, in the same degree. Do we seek to know
why there was a birth? Then, why seek to know
why death occurs? It occurred, that is enough.
Reason-finding is a superfluous occupation.
He causes beings
to create beings and He causes beings to end
beings. Bodies get born, bodies die, nothing
more serious happens at birth or death. This has
been taught us often by Vāsudeva. Why
then should we doubt or deviate from the steady
courage He has sought to give us?
You might say that
it is not just, that He who caused us to be born
should be the person who kills us. Between birth
and death, man too has some capacity to earn punya and papa, merit and demerit and
this has some influence on the course of events.
Within these limits, the Lord plays the game of
football with birth and death, and life.
Birth and death
are two high cliffs between which the river of
life flows. The force of atmic faith (ātmā-s'akti)
is the bridge that spans the chasm and for those
who have developed that force and faith, floods
are of no concern. With ātmā-s'akti as
their safe support, they can reach the other
bank, braving all dangers. O King, all this is
but a grand puppet-show by that Master-Director.
The Yadavas today, like the Kauravas
yesterday, had no individuality of their own,
there is no use blaming either.
Can this material
body, composed of the five elements, - earth,
water, fire, air and ether - move or act without
His prompting? No, it is His amusement, to cause
one to be born through another and to cause one
to die through another. Else, how can you
explain the fact of the snake laying eggs and
warming them to bring out the young and then,
eat the very children thus born? Even among
them, it eats up only those whose term is ended,
so to say, not every one of the snakelings. The
fish that live in the waters get caught in nets
when their term ends; why, the small fish get
eaten by the big ones and they in their turn get
swallowed by even bigger ones. This is His law.
The snake eats the frog, the peacock eats the
snake, this is His game. Who can probe into the
reasons for this? The truth is: 'Every single
event is the decision of this Balagopāla (another
name for Krishna, ruler of cowherds).'
We cannot sense
the mystery of His play. We have failed to
understand it. There is no profit in worrying
over that failure now. With that deluding human
form, He moved with us, mixed with us, dined
with us, behaved as if He was our kinsman and
well-wisher, our friend and guide, and saved us
from many a calamity that threatened to
overwhelm us. He showered His divine mercy on us
and solved for us the toughest problems that
defied solution, in remarkably simple ways.
During all this time that He was near and dear
to us, we were carried away by pride that we had
His grace; we did not try to fill ourselves with
that supreme joy, to dive deep into the flood of
His grace. We sought from Him mere external
victory and temporal benefits; we ignored the
vast treasure with which we could have tilled
our hearts. We never contemplated on His real
reality.
He guarded us as
if we five were the five vital airs (pancha-prāna)
for Him. He came forward to help us and lead us
in every undertaking, however small, and He
fulfilled it for us. Brother, what shall I say?
We might be born many times over, but we can
never get again such a friend and kinsman. I
have received from Him love much more intense
than that of a mother, a love which no mother
can confer.
On many an
occasion He bore the burdens of the Pāndavas
as His own and to relieve us of the bother. He
used to plan measures within minutes and carry
them on to final success. It is due to the gift
of His grace that we Pāndavas have
survived in this world to this day.
Why repeat a
thousand things separately? Every drop of blood
coursing through these veins is but a drop from
the shower of His grace. Every muscle is but a
lump of His love, every bone and cartilage is
but a piece of His mercy. Unable to understand
this secret, we strutted about, boasting "I
achieved this", and "I accomplished that". Now,
it has become clear to us that without Him we
are but bags of skin.
Of course, the
fate of all men is the same. They forget that
the All-ruling All-knowing Almighty plays with
them as puppets; they assume that they are the
actual doers and enjoyers; like me they are
plunged in ignorance of the basic truth. When we
who are far-famed heroes and warriors are in
this sad plight, what can we say of ordinary
folk who have no chance of awakening into this jńāna?
For this, the sad
experience I had on my way is the "direct
proof." Thus said Arjuna and fell back,
leaning against the chair that was behind him,
for he could not bear the separation from his
life-long support and guide, Krishna.
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