CANTO 1
PARVA SAMGRAHA
AUM! I bow down to Narayana and Nara, the most exalted Purusha,
and to the Devi Saraswati, and utter the word Jaya. Ugrasrava is the
son of Romaharshana; he is a Suta and a master of the Puranas. One
day, bowing reverently, he came to the great Rishis of flinchless austerity
who sat at their ease after attending the twelve years’ yagna of Saunaka
Kulapati, in the Naimisha vana. The Munis were eager to listen to the
marvellous legends of Ugrasrava, who had come to their asrama in the
forest. The holy ones welcomed him with respect. He greeted those Sages
with folded hands and inquired after the evolution of their tapasya.
When the Rishis all sat again, Romaharshana’s son also humbly sat upon
the seat they offered him. Seeing that he was comfortable, and refreshed,
one of the Rishis said, ‘From where are you coming, lotus-eyed Sauti, and
where have you been spending your time? Tell me, who asks you this, in
detail.’
The eloquent Sauti replied appositely and at length in that large conclave
of illustrious tapasvins; the language he used was chaste and high, suited to
their way of life.
Sauti said, ‘I heard the diverse, sacred and marvellous tales, which
Krishna Dwaipayana composed in his Mahabharata, and which
Vaisampayana narrated at the sarpa yagna of the noble Rajarishi
Janamejaya, the son of Parikshit, foremost among Kshatriyas.
Later, I ranged the Earth, visiting many tirthas and other shrines. I
journeyed to Samantapanchaka, revered by the Dvijas, where the sons of
Kuru and those of Pandu fought their Great War, with all the Kshatriyas of
the land fighting for one side or the other.
From there, being eager to meet you, I have come into your presence.
Worshipful Sages, you are all like Brahman to me. Most blessed ones, you
shine in this yagnashala with the splendour of the Sun. You have finished
your dhyana and have fed the holy fire. Now you sit here, at your ease, with
no cares.
Tell me, greatest of Dvijas, what would you hear from me? Shall I
recount the sacred tales of the Puranas, which tell of dharma and artha, or
shall I tell you about the deeds of enlightened Rishis and of the kings of
men?’
The Rishis replied, ‘The Purana that was first propounded by the great
Dwaipayana. When both the Devas and the Brahmarishis had heard it, they
said it was the foremost of all Itihasas, histories. It varies in both diction
and divisions, has intricate and subtle meanings, logically combined and
gleaned from the Vedas, and it is a most holy work. It is composed in
elegant language and includes the subjects of every other book. Other
Shastras elucidate this Purana, and it reflects the inmost meaning of the four
Vedas. We want to listen to that Itihasa, which is also called the Bharata, the
magnificent Vyasa’s holy masterwork, which dispels the fear of evil. We
would hear it exactly as the Rishi Vaisampayana told it, joyously, under the
direction of Dwaipayana himself, at the sarpa yagna, the snake-sacrifice of
Raja Janamejaya.’
Sauti then said, ‘I bow to the Primordial Being, Isana, to whom the
people all make offerings, whom the multitude adores. He is the true and
immortal One – Brahman, manifest, unmanifest and eternal. He both exists
and appears not to. He is the Universe and also distinct from the Universe,
the creator of all things, high and low, the ancient, exalted, inexhaustible
One. He is Vishnu, benign and benignity personified, worthy of all worship,
pure, perfect. He is Hari, sovereign of the faculties, the mover of all things,
mobile and motionless.
I will now narrate the sacred thoughts of the illumined Muni Vyasa, of
marvellous accomplishments, whom all here revere. Some pauranikas have
already taught this Itihasa, some now teach it, and others will hereafter
disseminate it across the Earth. It is a vast treasure of knowledge, and its
fame is established through the three Lokas. The Dvijas, the twice-born,
possess it both in detail and in full. The erudite delight in it for being
adorned with elegance, with conversations human and divine and with
myriad poetic metres.
When this world was without light, plunged in absolute darkness, a
Mighty Egg appeared, the First Cause of creation, the single, infinite,
inexhaustible seed of all created beings. This is the Mahavidya, formed at
the beginning of the Yuga, when, we hear, Brahman the true light, the
eternal, inconceivable Being, was present equally everywhere, the unseen
and subtle Cause, whose nature is both of being and nothingness.
From this Egg, Pitamaha Brahma emerged, the first Prajapati, along with
Vishnu Suraguru and Siva Sthanu. Then the twenty-one Prajapatis appeared
– Manu, Vasishta and Parameshthi, ten Prachetas, Daksha, and the seven
sons of Daksha.
Then appeared the incomprehensible Purusha, whom all the Rishis
know, and also the Viswedevas, the Adityas, the Vasus, the Aswin twins,
the Yakshas, the Sadhyas, the Pisachas, the Guhyakas, and the Pitrs.
After these, the wise and most holy Brahmarishis were created, and the
numerous Rajarishis distinguished by every noble quality. So too, the
waters, the heavens, the earth, the air, the sky, the cardinal points of the
heavens, the years, the seasons, the months, the fortnights—called pakshas
—with day and night, in proper succession. Thus, all things that are known
to man were made.
And when the Yugas end, whatever is seen in the Universe, animate and
inanimate, will again be dissolved. When the next Yugas begin, all things
will be renewed and like the many fruits of the Earth, succeed one another
in the order of their seasons. So the Wheel revolves ceaselessly in the
world, without beginning and without end, destroying all things.
The generation of Devas, in brief, was thirty-three thousand, thirty-three
hundred and thirty-three. The sons of Div were Brihadbhanu, Chakshus,
Atma, Vibhavasu, Savita, Richika, Arka, Bhanu, Asavaha and Ravi. Of
these Vivaswans of old, Mahya was the youngest, whose son was
Devavrata. Devavrata’s son Suvrata had three sons—Dasajyoti, Satajyoti
and Sahasrajyoti; each of them sired numerous offspring. The illustrious
Dasajyoti had ten thousand progeny, Satajyoti ten times that number, and
Sahasrajyoti ten times as many as Satajyoti.
From these descended the clans of the Kurus, the Yadus, and of Bharata;
the lineage of Yayati and of Ikshvaku, and also all the Rajarishis.
Numerous, too, were their generations, and abundant were the creatures and
their places of abode. The triune mystery—the Vedas, Yoga and Vijnana
Dharma, Artha and Kama; the many books upon the subject of Dharma,
Artha and Kama; rules for the conduct of humankind; also, histories and
discourses upon various Srutis all these the Rishi Vyasa saw. They are here
in their proper order, and mentioned as examples of the Shastras.
The Rishi Vyasa promulgated this vast treasure of knowledge in both a
comprehensive and an abridged form. The learned of this world always
want to know both versions. Some read the Bharata from the invocatory
mantra; others begin with the story of Astika, others with Uparichara; while
some Brahmanas study the entire epic.
Men of learning exhibit their different knowledges of the text when they
comment upon the composition. Some are skilful at expounding its
meaning, while others remember its contents in complete detail.
Having, with penance and meditation, tapasya and dhyana, analysed the
eternal Veda, the son of Satyavati later composed this sacred history. When
that knowing Brahmarishi, of fierce vows, the noble Vyasa, son of Parasara,
finished this greatest of all epics, he considered how he could transmit it to
his disciples and leave it behind for posterity. And Brahma, who owns the
six attributes, who is the Guru of the world, knew the anxiety of the Rishi
Dwaipayana. Brahma appeared in the place where Vyasa was: to grant the
Sage what he desired and thus benefit the people of the Earth.
Vyasa sat lost in thought, surrounded by all the tribes of Munis. Seeing
Brahma, he rose in astonishment, and standing with joined palms, the Rishi
bowed low and ordered a darbhasana fetched for the Pitamaha. Vyasa
circumambulated in pradakshina Him who is called Hiranyagarbha, seated
upon that especial and lofty grass throne, and came and stood near Him.
Brahma Parameshthi commanded him to sit near the asana, and Vyasa did
so, his heart full of love, and smiling in joy.
The glorious Vyasa said to Brahma Parameshthi, “Divine Brahma, I have
composed a kavya, a poem, which is highly regarded. In it, I have explained
the mystery of the Veda and the other scriptures; the rituals of the
Upanishads with their angas; the Puranas and Itihasas that I have compiled
and named after the three divisions of time, the nature of ageing and decay,
of fear, disease, being and non-being; a description of different varnas and
the various stages of life: laws for the four varnas, the true import of the
Puranas; an account of sannyasa and the duties of a brahmacharin; the
dimensions of the Sun and Moon, the planets, galaxies, and stars, along
with the duration of the four ages; the Rik, Sama and Yajur Vedas; also, the
Adhyatma; the sciences of Nyaya, the diagnosis and the treatment of
disease; charity and Pasupatadharma; births heavenly and human, for
different ends; a description of the tirthas and other holy places, of rivers,
mountains, forests, the ocean, of the unearthly cities and the Kalpas; the art
of war; the different nations and languages, the nature and customs of the
people; and the All-pervading Spirit – all these I have told of in my poem.
But now I cannot find anyone to be my scribe for this work, not on this
Earth.”
Brahma said, “In this gathering of Munis renowned for their sanctity, I
honour you for your deep knowledge of divine mysteries. I know you have
revealed the Divine Word, from its first utterance, in the language of truth.
You have called your present work a kavya, a poem, and so it shall be a
poem. No other poet’s work shall ever equal this kavya of yours, even as
the other three asramas of life are forever lesser than the grihastasrama. O
Muni, let us consider Ganesha to become your amanuensis, to write this
epic poem down.”’
Sauti said, ‘Having spoken thus to Vyasa, Brahma left for his own realm,
Brahmaloka. Vyasa now thought prayerfully of Ganesha; and Ganesha,
remover of obstacles, always ready to fulfil the desires of his devotees,
came immediately to the place where Vyasa sat.
When he had been worshipped, welcomed and was seated, Vyasa said to
him, “O Guru of the Ganas! I beg you, be the scribe for the Bharata, which I
have conceived in my imagination, and which I shall narrate to you.”
Ganesha answered, “I will be your scribe if my nib does not stop writing
for even a moment.”
Vyasa said to that Deity, “Wherever there is anything that you do not
properly understand, you must stop writing.”
Ganesha signified his assent by saying AUM! and was ready to begin.
Vyasa began his narration; and to divert Ganesha, and to gain time, he wove
the warp and weft of his legend exceedingly close, with many a diversion.
By this ruse, he dictated his work and never allowed Ganesha’s nib,
which was a tusk he took from his own face, to be still for a moment, for he
was always ahead of his scribe.’
‘I am,’ continued Sauti, ‘acquainted with eight thousand and eight
hundred verses, and so is Suka, and perhaps Sanjaya. From the
mysteriousness of their meaning, O Munis, no one is able, to this day, to
penetrate those close-knit and difficult slokas. Even the omniscient Ganesha
took a moment to consider; Vyasa, however, continued to compose more
verses, abundantly.
As an instrument for applying kohl does, this awesome work has opened
the eyes of the inquisitive world, blinded by the darkness of ignorance. As
the Sun dispels the darkness, so does the Bharata by its treatises on dharma,
artha, kama, and final moksha dispel the ignorance of men. As the full
Moon unfurls the buds of the water lily with his soft light, so this Purana
reveals the light of the Sruti, and makes the human intellect bloom. The
torch of this Itihasa destroys the darkness of ignorance, and then the entire
mansion of Prakriti becomes illumined.
This work is a tree. The chapter of contents is its seed; the divisions
called Pauloma and Astika are its root; the portion called Sambhava is its
trunk; the books called Sabha and Aranya are roosting perches; the Parva
called Arani, the knots on the bole; the Virata and Udyoga Parvas, the pith;
the book named Bhishma, the main branch; the book called Drona, the
leaves; the Karna Parva, the fair flowers; the book named Saya, their sweet
fragrance; the books entitled Stri and Asthika, the refreshing shade; the
book called Shanti, the mighty fruit; the book called Aswamedha, the
immortal sap; the Asramavasika, the place where the tree grows; and the
book called Mausala is an epitome of the Vedas and held in great reverence
by virtuous Brahmanas. The tree of the Bharata, as inexhaustible to
mankind as the clouds, shall be a source of livelihood to all poets of
distinction.’
Sauti continued, ‘I will now tell you of the immortal flower and fruit of
this tree, whose scent is pure and flavour delicious, and which not the Devas
can destroy.
Once, when implored by Bhishma, the wise son of Ganga, and by his
own mother Satyavati, the spiritual and virtuous Krishna Dwaipayana
fathered three sons, who were like three fires, upon the two wives of
Vichitravirya; and having sired Dhritarashtra, Pandu and Vidura, he
returned to his asrama to continue his tapasya.
Not until after these three were born, grown and, even, departed on their
final journey, did the great Vyasa make the Bharata known in this world of
men. When Janamejaya and thousands of Brahmanas begged him, he
commanded his disciple Vaisampayana, who sat next to him; and
Vaisampayana, sitting with the sadasyas, the guests, recited the Bharata,
during the intervals in the rituals of the snake sacrifice, for the others
repeatedly urged him to do so.
Vyasa has described exhaustively the greatness of the house of Kuru, the
virtuousness of Gandhari, the wisdom of Vidura, and the constancy of
Kunti. The noble Rishi has dwelt upon the divinity of Krishna, the dharma
of the sons of Pandu, and the evil ways of the sons and confederates of
Dhritarashtra.
Originally, Vyasa composed the Bharata in twenty-four thousand verses,
without the digressions and upakathas; the learned recognise only these as
the Bharata. Later, he composed an outline in one hundred and fifty verses,
comprising the introduction and the chapter of contents. This he first taught
to his son Suka; and after, he gave it to some of his other sishyas, who
possessed the same gifts as his son.
After this, he composed another six hundred thousand verses. Of these,
thirty lakhs are known in the world of the Devas; fifteen hundred thousand
in the world of the Pitrs; fourteen lakhs among the Gandharvas, and one
hundred thousand in the world of men. Narada recited these to the Devas;
Devala to the Pitrs; and Suka to the Gandharvas, Yakshas and Rakshasas. In
this world, they were recited by Vaisampayana, one of Vyasa’s disciples, a
man of dharma and foremost among the knowers of the Veda.
Know that I, Sauti Ugrasrava, have also repeated one hundred thousand
verses.
Yudhishtira is a vast tree, formed of adhyatma and dharma; Arjuna is its
trunk; Bhimasena, its branches; the two sons of Madri are its fruit and
flowers; and its roots are Krishna, Brahma, and the Brahmanas.
After he had subdued many kingdoms by his wisdom and prowess,
Pandu went to stay with some Munis in a forest. He came to hunt, but
brought misfortune upon himself when he killed a stag in the act of mating
with its hind. This became a warning that guided the conduct of the princes
of his house, his sons, throughout their lives.
To fulfil the laws of grihasta, Kunti and Madri invoked the Devas –
Dharma, Vayu, Indra; and the divinities the twin Aswins, and these gods
sired sons upon them. Their sons grew up in the care of their two mothers,
in the society of hermits, in the midst of tapovanas and holy asramas of
Rishis. Then the Rishis brought the sons of Pandu to Hastinapura, into the
presence of Dhritarashtra and his sons; they came wearing the habits of
brahmacharis, following their masters as students, with their hair tied in
topknots on their heads.
“These sishyas of ours,” said the Rishis, “are as your sons, your brothers,
and your friends; they are Pandavas.” Saying this, the Munis vanished.
When the Kauravas heard they were the sons of Pandu, the noble ones
among them shouted for great joy. Others, however, said they were not the
sons of Pandu; others said they were; while a few asked how they could be
his sons, when he had been dead for so long.
Yet voices on all sides cried, “They are welcome! Through divine
Providence we see the family of Pandu again! Let their welcome be
proclaimed!”
When the people fell silent, a great applause of invisible spirits rang
everywhere, so every direction of the sky echoed. Showers of divinely
fragrant flowers fell upon the Earth, and the deep sound of conches and
batteries of kettledrums was heard when the young princes arrived. The joy
of all the citizens reverberated from Bhumi, the Earth, and reached back up
into Swarga, the Heavens.
The Pandavas had already imbibed the Vedas and the other Shastras, and
they began living in Hastinapura, respected by all and fearing none.
Men of influence in the city were pleased by the purity of Yudhishtira,
the strength of Bhima, the valour of Arjuna, the submissiveness of Kunti to
her elders, and the humility of the twins, Nakula and Sahadeva; and the
people rejoiced in their noble traits.
Later, Arjuna won the virgin Krishnaa¹ at her swayamvara, in a great
gathering of kings, by performing an incredibly difficult feat of archery.
Then on, he was revered in this world as the greatest bowman; and upon
fields of battle, too, like the Sun, his enemies could hardly face him: so
brilliant was he, so superior. And having vanquished all the neighbouring
Kshatriyas and every considerable tribe, he enabled the Raja Yudhishtira,
his eldest brother, to perform the greatest martial sacrifice, the Rajasuya
yagna.
With the knowing and shrewd counsel of Krishna and by the valour of
Bhimasena and Arjuna, Yudhishtira slew Jarasandha, the hitherto invincible
king of Magadha, and the proud Chaidya Sishupala. Then, he had indeed
gained the right to perform the grand and superabundant Rajasuya yagna,
which bestows transcendent punya, spiritual merit.
Duryodhana came to this sacrifice. He saw the vast wealth of the
Pandavas, in evidence everywhere, the bounty of the offerings, the precious
stones, gold and ornaments. He saw their wealth in the form of cows,
elephants and horses; the rare silks, brocades, garments and mantles; the
precious shawls and furs and carpets, made of the skin of the Ranku deer.
Envy and grief welled up inside him.
And when he saw the great and exquisite sabha of Mayaa Danava, the
Asura architect, as wonderful as any unearthly court, he burned with rage
and jealousy. When he was deceived by some cunning architectural
illusions that Mayaa had created in his sabha, Bhimasena mocked him
heartily in the presence of Krishnaa Draupadi; he laughed at his cousin as
he might at a servant.
News came to Dhritarashtra, that, though his son Duryodhana was
surrounded by every luxury and indulging in every pleasure, and lived
amidst untold riches, he was pale and wasting away, as if from some secret
sickness. In a while, out of his excessive fondness for his eldest son,
Dhritarashtra gave his consent to their playing a game of dice against the
sons of Pandu.
When Vasudeva Krishna heard about this, he was furious. Yet, he did
nothing to prevent the game of dice, and the terrible consequences that
accrued from it for the Pandavas. Despite Vidura, Bhishma, Drona, and
Kripa, the son of Saradwan, Krishna stoked the fire that caused the
awesome war that ensued, and consumed the very race of Kshatriyas.
When Dhritarashtra heard the dreadful news that the Pandavas had won
the war, he remembered the resolves of Duryodhana, Karna and Shakuni.
He pondered in silence for a while, then, spoke to Sanjaya, his sarathy and
counsellor.
“Listen carefully, Sanjaya, to everything I am about to say, and let it be
beneath you to treat me contemptuously. You know the Shastras well; you
are intelligent and wise. I was never in favour of fighting the war, and I took
no delight in the destruction of my race. I made no distinction between my
own children and the children of Pandu. My sons were wilful and despised
me because of my age and infirmity. Being blind and powerless, and
because I loved my sons as every father does, I suffered it all.
I was foolish, and my thoughtless Duryodhana’s folly grew day by day.
In Indraprastha, he saw the wealth and incomparable power of the mighty
sons of Pandu. They mocked him for his clumsiness in the Mayaa sabha. He
could not bear it, and yet neither could he face the Pandavas in battle.
Though he was a Kshatriya, he dared not attempt to find fortune by fighting
an honourable war. Instead, he sought the help of the king of Gandhara and
contrived a game of dice. It was not a fair game, for the dice Shakuni used
were loaded.
Hear, Sanjaya, all that happened thereafter and came to my knowledge.
And when you have heard what I say, remember everything as it transpired,
and you will know that I had prophetic foresight of what would happen
finally.
When I heard that Arjuna bent the bow, pierced the difficult target,
brought it down, and took the young woman Krishnaa triumphantly, under
the eyes of the assembled Kshatriyas, already, O Sanjaya, I knew we could
never hope to prevail.
Then I heard Arjuna had married Subhadra of the race of Madhu, in
gandharva vivaha, by the rite of abduction, in the city of Dwaraka. I heard
that her brothers, Krishna and Balarama, the two heroes of the race of
Vrishni, went to Indraprastha, without any resentment and as friends of the
Pandavas, and then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope that we could prevail.
I heard that Arjuna, with uncanny archery, held up the storm sent down
by his father Indra, king of the Devas. I heard that Arjuna had pleased Agni
by giving him the forest of Khandhava to consume, and then, O Sanjaya, I
lost hope of success.
When I heard that the five Pandavas with their mother Kunti had escaped
from the house of lac, and that Vidura had helped them effect their escape,
then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success.
When I heard that, after having pierced the mark in the arena, Arjuna
had won Draupadi, and that the brave Panchalas had joined the Pandavas,
then, O Sanjaya, I knew we would never have victory.
When I heard that Jarasandha, crown jewel of the royal line of Magadha,
and sunlike among all Kshatriyas, had been slain by Bhima with his bare
hands, then, O Sanjaya, I knew we had no hope of prevailing.
When I heard that the sons of Pandu had vanquished the kings of all the
kingdoms throughout the land and performed the imperial Rajasuya yagna,
then, O Sanjaya, I knew our cause was lost. When I heard that Draupadi,
her voice choking with tears, full of agony, and in her period, wearing a
single cloth, had been dragged into our court, and though she had
protectors, had been treated as if she had none, then, O Sanjaya, I had no
hope of success. When I heard that my evil wretch Dushasana was trying to
strip her of that single garment, but could only pull reams of many-hued
cloth from her body into a heap, but not arrive at its end, then, O Sanjaya, I
had no hope of success. When I heard that, beaten by Shakuni at the game
of dice and deprived of his kingdom, Yudhishtira still had his invincible
brothers with him, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of ever prevailing. When
I heard that the righteous Pandavas wept in shame and torment, when they
followed their elder brother into the wilderness and occupied themselves
variously to lessen his discomfort, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of
success. When I heard that Snatakas and other noble Brahmanas, who live
by alms, had followed Yudhishtira into the wilderness, then, O Sanjaya, I
had no hope of succeeding. When I heard that Arjuna had pleased the God
of gods, Tryambaka, the three-eyed, who came disguised as a hunter, and
that he received the Pasupatastra from Siva, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope
of success. When I heard that the honest and renowned Arjuna had gone to
Devaloka, and had obtained Devastras there from Indra himself then, O
Sanjaya, I knew we could never win. When I heard that Arjuna had
vanquished the Kalakeyas and the Paulomas, arrogant with the boon they
had which made them invulnerable even to the Devas, then, O Sanjaya, I
had no hope of victory. When I heard that Arjuna Parantapa, scourge of his
enemies, had been to the realm of Indra to kill those Asuras, and had
returned victorious, then, O Sanjaya, I knew we were doomed. When I
heard that Bhima and the other sons of Pritha, accompanied by Vaisravana,
had arrived in the country that is inaccessible to man, then, O Sanjaya, I had
no hope of success. When I heard that my sons, misled by Karna’s advice,
while on their Ghoshayatra, had been taken prisoners by the Gandharvas
and then freed by Arjuna, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of succeeding.
When I heard that Dharma, the God of Justice, came as a Yaksha and asked
Yudhishtira some questions about dharma, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope
of success. When I heard that my sons had failed to discover the Pandavas
in disguise, while they lived with Draupadi in the kingdom of Virata, then,
O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success. When I heard that the great Kshatriyas
of my kingdom had all been vanquished by Arjuna, by himself, in a single
chariot, in the country of Virata, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success.
When I heard that Vasudeva of the race of Madhu, who covered this Earth
with one stride, was committed to the welfare of the Pandavas, then, O
Sanjaya, I had no hope of success. When I heard that the king of the
Matsyas had offered his virtuous daughter Uttaraa to Arjuna and that
Arjuna had accepted her for his son Abhimanyu, then, O Sanjaya, I had no
hope of success. When I heard that Yudhishtira, beaten at dice, his wealth
and kingdom snatched from him, exiled and his old connections severed,
had still assembled an army of seven Akshauhinis, then, O Sanjaya, I had no
hope of victory. When I heard Narada declare that Krishna and Arjuna
were Nara and Narayana and that he, Narada, had seen them together in
Brahmaloka, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of being victorious. When I
heard that Krishna was anxious to make peace, for the good of humankind,
and came to the Kurus, but went away without having been able to
accomplish his mission, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success. When I
heard that Karna and Duryodhana resolved on imprisoning Krishna, but he
revealed his Viswarupa, his body the Universe, then, O Sanjaya, I had no
hope of success. When I heard that as he was leaving Hastinapura, Pritha
stood, sorrowing, near his chariot and Krishna consoled her, then, O
Sanjaya, I had no hope that we could have victory. When I heard that
Vasudeva and Bhishma, son of Shantanu, counselled the Pandavas and that
Drona, son of Bharadwaja, blessed them, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of
succeeding. When Karna said to Bhishma, ‘I will not fight while you are
fighting’, and left the field, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of winning the
war. When I heard that Krishna, Arjuna, and the bow Gandiva of untold
prowess these three of fearsome tejas, energy had come together, then, O
Sanjaya, I had no hope of victory. When I heard that Arjuna was seized by
compunction in his chariot and ready to abandon the war, but Krishna
showed him all the worlds within his body, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope
that we could prevail. When I heard that Bhishma, the desolator of our
enemies, who killed ten thousand warriors every day in battle, had not slain
any of the Pandavas, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope. When I heard that
Bhishma, the righteous son of Ganga, himself told the sons of Pandu how
he could be slain in battle, and that the Pandavas slew him joyfully, then, O
Sanjaya, I had no hope of succeeding. When I heard that Arjuna placed
Sikhandin before himself in his chariot, and shot the invincible Bhishma of
boundless courage with a torrent of arrows, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope
of success. When I heard that the aged Kshatriya Bhishma, having all but
razed the race of Shomaka, was felled and lay upon a bed of arrows, then, O
Sanjaya, I had no hope of being victorious. When I heard that upon
Bhishma’s being thirsty and asking for water, Arjuna pierced the ground
with the Parjannyastra and quenched his thirst, then, O Sanjaya, I had no
hope of success. When Vayu, with Indra and Surya, united as allies for the
success of the sons of Kunti, and beasts of prey terrified our legions by their
inauspicious presence, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success. When the
exceptional warrior Drona, though he showed a myriad marvellous varieties
of the art of war, did not slay any of the Pandavas, then, O Sanjaya, I lost
hope that we might win. When I heard that the Maharatha Samsaptakas of
our army who meant to bring Arjuna down were all killed by Arjuna, then,
O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success. When I heard that our impenetrable
vyuha, guarded by the mighty Drona, had been cloven, singly, and entered
by Subhadra’s valiant son, O Sanjaya, I lost hope of victory. When I heard
that our Maharathas, unable to vanquish Arjuna, had surrounded and
murdered the boy Abhimanyu, and crowed over this slaughter with beaming
faces, then, O Sanjaya, I lost hope of success. When I heard that the foolish
Kauravas shouted for joy after killing Abhimanyu and that the enraged
Arjuna swore to kill Jayadratha, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of
succeeding. When I heard that Arjuna fulfilled his vow in the face of all his
enemies, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope. When I heard that when Arjuna’s
horses were overcome with tiredness, Krishna unyoked them, made them
drink and harnessed them again before he brought them back into battle,
Sanjaya, I lost every hope. When I heard that while his horses were
exhausted and went to drink, Arjuna remained in his chariot and held all his
attackers at bay, Sanjaya, I knew our cause was lost. When I heard that
Satyaki of the race of Vrishni struck panic into the invincible elephant
legions of the army of Drona and rode easily to the side of Krishna and
Arjuna, then, Sanjaya, I had no hope of victory. When I heard that after
having Bhimasena helpless and in the eye of his arrow, Karna allowed him
to escape with his life, only taunting him and dragging him a short way with
the end of his bow, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success. When I heard
that Drona, Kritavarma, Kripa, Karna, Aswatthama, and the heroic Salya,
king of Madra could not prevent the slaying of Saindhava Jayadratha, then,
O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success. When I heard that Krishna’s cunning
made Karna use the celestial Sakti, given him by Indra, against the
Rakshasa Ghatotkacha of the dreadful visage, then, Sanjaya, I had no hope
of success. When I heard that in the duel between Karna and Ghatotkacha,
that Sakti, which could surely have slain Arjuna, had been cast at
Ghatotkacha, Sanjaya, I lost hope again. When I heard that Dhristadyumna
broke every law of honourable battle, and slew Drona who sat alone,
unresisting and determined to die in his chariot, then, O Sanjaya, I lost
every hope. When I heard that Madri’s son Nakula engaged Aswatthama in
single combat before both armies, proved equal to Drona’s son and drove
his chariot in circles around Aswatthama, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of
victory. When, upon the death of Drona, his son invoked the Narayanastra
but failed to consume the Pandavas, then, Sanjaya, I had no hope. When I
heard that Bhimasena drank the blood of his brother Dushasana on the
battlefield without anybody being able to stop him, then, O Sanjaya, I had
no hope of victory. When I heard that the boundlessly valiant, invincible
Karna was slain by Arjuna in that duel between brothers, mysterious even
to the gods, then, Sanjaya, I had no hope of success. When I heard that
Yudhisthira Dharmaraja defeated the tameless Aswatthama, Dushasana, and
the fierce Kritavarma, too, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of victory. When
I heard that Yudhishtira killed the brave king of Madra, who always dared
Krishna to do battle with him, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of success.
When I heard that the evil Shakuni, who owned occult powers, who was the
very root of the gambling, and indeed, all the bitter feud, was slain by
Pandu’s son Sahadeva, then, O Sanjaya, I lost hope of success. When I
heard that the exhausted Duryodhana fled to a lake and sought sanctuary in
its waters, lying there alone, his strength gone and without a chariot, then, O
Sanjaya, I had no hope of succeeding. When I heard that the Pandavas
arrived at that lake with Krishna, and standing on its shore, called out
contemptuously, tauntingly to my son, who could never tolerate an insult,
then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of prevailing. When I heard that while, after
showing in circles a dazzling array of innovative styles of gada yuddha, he
was unfairly struck down, at Krishna’s behest, then, Sanjaya, I had no hope
of victory. When I heard that Aswatthama and his confederates slaughtered
the Panchalas and the sons of Draupadi in their sleep, a horrible and
dastardly deed, then, O Sanjaya, I had no hope of victory. When I heard
that, pursued by Bhima, Aswatthama discharged the first of weapons,
Aishika, which direly wounded the embryo in the womb of Uttaraa, then, O
Sanjaya, I had no hope of winning. When I heard that Arjuna repulsed
Aswatthama’s astra, the Brahmashira, with another weapon over which he
pronounced the word Sasti, and that Aswatthama had then to give up the
jewel-like growth on his head, then, O Sanjaya, I lost all hope. When I
heard that upon the embryo in the womb of Virata’s daughter being
wounded by Aswatthama with a mahastra, Dwaipayana and Krishna
pronounced curses on Drona’s son, then, O Sanjaya, I lost every hope.
Alas! I must pity Gandhari, childless now, all her grandchildren slain,
her parents, brothers and kindred gone. Oh, hard indeed has been the
achievement of the Pandavas: they have recovered a kingdom and left no
rival to challenge them.
Alas! I have heard that the war has left only ten alive: three from our
side, and from the Pandavas’, seven; that dreadful war has claimed eighteen
Akshauhinis of Kshatriyas, all slain! All around me is darkness, and a
swoon comes over me. Consciousness leaves me, Sanjaya, and my mind is
far from me.”’
Suta said, ‘Thus bemoaning his fate, Dhritarashtra was overcome by
anguish and swooned for a while; when he revived, he addressed Sanjaya
again.
“After what has happened, Sanjaya, I want to put an end to my life at
once; I find not the slightest advantage in preserving it any longer.”’
Suta said, ‘Sanjaya, wise son of Gavalgana, now interrupted the
distraught lord of Earth, who lamented thus and sighed like a serpent,
repeatedly fainting. Words of deep import spoke Sanjaya.
“You have heard, O Rajan, of the mighty men of immense valour,
spoken of by Vyasa and the Rishi Narada: Kshatriyas born of royal families,
splendid with every quality, versed in astras, glorious like amsas of Indra;
men who conquered the world with dharma and performed sacrifices with
offerings to Brahmanas, who having obtained renown in this world, at last
succumbed to time. Such men were Saibya, the valiant Maharatha; Srinjaya,
great amongst conquerors; Suhotra; Rantideva and the magnificent
Kakshivanta; Balhika, Damana, Saryati, Ajita, and Nala; Viswamitra,
destroyer of foes; Ambarisha, of matchless strength; Marutta, Manu,
Ikshvaku, Gaya, and Bharata; Rama the son of Dasaratha; Sasabindu and
Bhagiratha; Kritavirya, the fortunate, and Janamejaya; Yayati of untold
punya who performed mahayagnas, in which the Devas themselves assisted
him, and by whose vedis and stambas this entire Bhumi, with her peopled
and uninhabited realms, is marked. The Devarishi Narada spoke of these
twenty-four kings once to Saibya, when that king grieved over the loss of
his children.
Besides these, other rajas had gone before, still more powerful,
Maharathas of noble mind, resplendent with every worthy quality: Puru,
Kuru, Yadu, Sura and Viswasrava of great glory; Anuha, Yuvanaswa,
Kakutstha, Vikrami, and Raghu; Vijaya, Vitihorta, Anga, Bhava, Sweta, and
Vripadguru; Usinara, Sataratha, Kanka, Duliduha, and Druma;
Dambhodbhava, Para, Vena, Sagara, Sankriti, and Nimi; Ajeya, Parasu,
Pundra, Sambhu, and holy Devavridha; Devahuya, Supratika, and
Brihadratha; Mahatsaha, Vinitatma, Shukratu, and Nala, the king of the
Nishadas; Satyavrata, Santabhaya, Sumitra, and Subala; Janujangha,
Anaranya, Arka, Priyabhritya, Chuchi-vrata, Balabandhu, Nirmardda,
Ketusringa, and Brhidbala; Dhrishtaketu, Brihatketu, Driptaketu, and
Niramaya; Abikshit, Chapala, Dhurta, Kritabandhu, and Dridheshudhi;
Mahapurana-sambhavya, Pratyanga, Paraha and Sruti. These, O Rajan, and
other kings, we hear enumerated in hundreds and thousands, and still others
in millions, princes of power and wisdom, who renounced abundant
kingdom and pleasures and met death just as your sons have done. Their
dharma, valour and generosity, their magnanimity, faith, truth, purity,
simplicity and mercy have been recorded for the world by holy pauranikas
of bygone ages, men of great gyana. Though endowed with every noble
virtue, they yielded up their lives. Your sons were malevolent, inflamed by
passion, greedy and evil. You are versed in the Shastras, O Bharata², and
are intelligent and wise; those whose hearts are guided by the Shastras
never succumb to misfortune. You, O Kshatriya, know both the kindness
and severity of fate; this anxiety for your children does not become you. It
does not befit you to grieve over the inevitable: for who can avert the
dictates of inelucatable fate? No one can escape the path marked out for
him by Providence. Existence and non-existence, pleasure and pain, all
have Time as their root. Time creates all things and Time destroys all
creatures. It is Time that burns living beings and Time that extinguishes the
fire. All conditions, good and evil, in the three worlds, are caused by Time.
Time cuts short all things and creates them anew. Time is awake when all
other things sleep; Time cannot be overcome. Time passes over all things
without being slowed by any. Knowing, as you do, that all things past and
future and all that is in the present moment are children of Time, it does not
befit you to cast aside your reason.”’
Sauti said, ‘Thus, Sanjaya comforted the king Dhritarashtra,
overwhelmed by grief for his sons, and restored some calm to his mind.
And using these arguments of Sanjaya for his subject, Dwaipayana
composed a holy Upanishad that has been given to the world by learned and
holy Pauranikas in the Puranas they composed.
The study of the Mahabharata is an act of piety. He that reads a mere
foot of it, with faith, has his sins washed away entirely. Here, Devas,
Devarishis, and immaculate Brahmarishis of punya have been spoken of;
likewise, Yakshas and great Uragas, the Nagas. Here also the eternal
Vasudeva, possessed of the six attributes, is described. He is the truth, and
just, the pure and holy, the eternal Brahman, the Paramatman, the constant
light, whose divine deeds the Sages recount; from whom the manifest and
unmanifest Universe, with its principles of generation and evolution, and
birth, death and rebirth issue. That which is called Adhyatma, the Sovereign
Spirit of nature, that partakes of the attributes of the Panchamahabhuta, the
five elements, is described here. Adhyatma has also been called Purusha,
being above such names as ‘unmanifest’ and the rest; it is also that which
the greatest Yatis, who are exempt from common destiny and endowed with
the power of dhyana and tapas, behold abiding in their hearts, rather like a
reflected image in a mirror.
When the man of faith, devoted to piety, and constant in virtue, reads
this canto, he is set free from sin. The believer who constantly hears this
canto of the Bharata, the Introduction, being recited, from the beginning,
never falls into difficulties. The man that repeats any part of the
introduction during the two sandhyas of dawn and dusk is freed from the
sins he commits during the day or the night. This canto, the very body of
the Bharata, is truth and nectar. As butter is to curd, the Brahmana among
bipeds, the Aranyaka among the Vedas, and Amrita among medicaments, as
the sea is among water bodies, and the cow among quadrupeds, so is the
Bharata among Itihasas, great legends.
He that causes it, even a single metre of it, to be recited to Brahmanas
during a sraddha, his offerings of food and drink to the manes of his Pitrs
become inexhaustible.
With the help of Itihasas and the Puranas, the Veda might be expounded;
but the Veda fears the man of small intellect lest he should try to expound
the scripture. The learned man who recites this Bharata Veda of Vyasa finds
great gain; why, he is saved from the sin of killing a child in the womb,
apart from other heinous sins. He that reads this holy chapter of the Moon
as good as reads the entire Bharata. The man who listens daily, with
reverence, to this sacred work acquires long life and renown, and finds
Swarga for himself.
In elder days, the Devas placed the four Vedas on one side of a balance
and the Bharata on the other, and weighed them against each other. Since
the Bharata was found to be weightier than the four Vedas with their
mysteries, then on it was called the Mahabharata, the great Bharata. It has
been judged to be superior to the Vedas both in substance and gravity. He
who fathoms its meaning is released from all his sins.
Tapa is innocent, study is harmless; the codes for living that the Vedas
prescribe for all the tribes are harmless; the acquisition of wealth by
exertion is not injurious; but when these are abused in their practice, they
become sources of evil.’
——————
¹Krishnaa is Panchali, the Pandavas’ wife, while Krishna is the Avatara.
Both are dark.
²Bharata is used for the great king of that name, and Bharata for his
descendants. Of course, the land of Bharata, Bharatavarsha, is named after
King Bharata, the Great.
