The Mahabharata is an epic that shows the extremes of everything-love, hate, duty, betrayal, loyalty. Search for an example and thou shalt see. Of course, it’s a perfect example of the age-old adage: Spare the rod and spoil the child! In a brilliant example of how Aesop and Vyasa were probably right, Gandhari and Dhritarashtra unleash their oh-so spoilt offspring upon the earth. And even after the tremendous sorrow and destruction left in their wake, the besotted parents just can’t seem to see the light! The story goes:
The great war of the Mahabharata had just been concluded. The Pandavas took toll of their victory- the friends dead and, in a case of absence making the heart grow fonder, their enemies who seemed not so bad to have deserved such a fate.
With a heart filled with remorse and sorrow, Yudhisthira viewed the task on hand with great distaste. How could he walk up to his uncle, Dhritarashtra, and claim the throne of Hastinapura for himself? It just didn’t seem right! Turning to Krishna he said, “Krishna, it seems rather callous and quite two-faced to go now and claim my throne while trying to comfort my uncle for the loss of his hundred sons on the battlefield. Who all died because of ME!”
Krishna replied, “Yudhisthira, it is unfortunate that while you both are united in grief over the loss of dear ones, it still is your lot to stake your claim. Your uncle knew what he was getting into. Instead of guiding his sons along the right path and taking a firm hand with them, he decided to turn a blind eye to justice. His actions are just coming back to haunt him.”
Only mildly encouraged by Krishna’s words and still having to deal with the dreaded task, Yudhisthira and his brothers prepared to meet their uncle and aunt.
In the opposing camp, the feelings were no less mixed. Dhritarashtra had been warned that Yudhisthira would be coming to take over the throne. “Ha!” thought Dhritarashtra. “What use is the throne to me now anyways? I have no son to rule after me. Perhaps I should’ve listened to my brother, Vidura, and left before this whole mess started! Duryodhana, why did you not listen to me when I asked you to be fair to your cousins? And now you and your brothers are all gone. A heavy price to pay for your wilfulness!”
As he pondered his sons’ deaths, his sorrow slowly gave way to a sense of unfairness about it all. Slowly Yudhisthira transformed from a nephew who only had asked for fairness, to an unfair conqueror set upon a throne that did not belong to him.
“Who does he think he is anyway?” thought Dhritarashtra. “First he destroys the entire line of rightful kings to the throne of Hastinapura! All hundred of them! He kills his own teachers and brothers in war. And now he has the gall to come here and seek my blessings!” As the thought gathered force in his head, his sorrow was replaced by an all-consuming hatred and anger.
Gandhari, his wife and queen, was mourning her own loss as well. “Ah Duryodhana! If only you had let me protect you well!” she thought (see Achilles’ thighs posting). “And all for a kingdom. And yet, I cannot forgive your death. Why should all five of Kunti’s sons survive and I be left with not even one? My sorrow is a hundred-fold magnified with the loss of every son!”
With their conflicting emotions swirling in their heads, the blind king and his blindfolded queen entered the court to officially meet the victorious Pandavas. Although neither could see anything, they felt with their hearts and minds the joy the people felt upon seeing Yudhisthira, Bhima, Arjuna and Nakula and Sahadeva return in triumph. Their hearts tore with anguish at hearing the praises and adulation lavished upon the Pandavas. Gandhari felt a stab of jealousy go through her as she waited for the procession to reach them. “When my Duryodhana was alive, the people did not show him any such affection. Perhaps he might have been a better man if he had known that the people loved him,” she thought. Dhritarashtra, feeling equally miserable at the love the Pandavas were receiving, felt his mounting anger envelop him completely. “My son was killed in a cowardly fashion by Bhima. And here he is pretending to be a hero. What kind of justice is this? Bhima is the true cause of my sorrow,” he thought, silently fuming.
Yudhisthira approached the king and queen cautiously. “O king and queen, we have come here to mourn with you the passing of all who have been near and dear to us. I hope you will find it in your hearts to forgive us for this war and its great human cost,” he said.
Hearing his humble words, Dhritarashtra’s anger cooled momentarily. But only for a flash. Composing himself he held out a hand and said, “You have nothing to apologize for. My son, Duryodhana, refused to listen to reason. He provoked this war and destroyed our entire clan. I hope you will be a good and righteous king. Where is Bhima? I want to show him that I still love him and bear him no ill-will…” Dhritarashtra stepped forward holding out his arms as if to embrace Bhima.
Surprised at being singled out for his uncle’s attention, Bhima stepped out from the back of the pack where he had been hovering so not to cause unnecessary pain to his uncle and aunt. Just as he was about to step into Dhritarashtra’s arms, Krishna silently pushed him out of the way. Hauling out a large iron replica of Bhima (that was used as target practice by Duryodhana), Krishna directed Dhritarashtra to the statue. The anger in the king found its focus and poured forth as he enveloped the statue in a crushing embrace. The power of his rage reduced the statue to rubble in front of Bhima’s horrified eyes.
As the old king felt the statue give way under his embrace, the anger that had flooded his mind and heart left as well. Overcome with remorse over what he had done, Dhritarashtra fell to his knees and mourned, “Oh my God! What have I done? I am much worse than my son. I know what is just and yet I have behaved monstrously and killed Bhima.” Filled with self-loathing Dhritarashtra lay there until Krishna came up to him and said, “Do not worry. Bhima is alive and well. Anger had distorted your thinking but now you are free of it.” A relieved Dhritarashtra, continued with the rest of his blessings to the Pandavas without major incident.
As the Pandavas made their way to Gandhari’s chambers, Yudhisthira spoke to Krishna. “Krishna, what am I going to say to my aunt? Of all the people in this palace, she has always been good to us. I truly feel like a heel!”
Krishna said, ” Don’t worry too much. It will go well. Gandhari is a good woman and knew her son was headed down a path of no return. She will forgive you.” What Krishna left unsaid was a niggling doubt in his mind that maybe Gandhari too needed more time to get over her loss.
As they entered her chambers, Gandhari rose to receive her guests. Hearing the sound of Yudhisthira’s voice raised in greeting as he walked towards her, the anguish of having lost her son washed over Gandhari. Anger coursed through her and as Yudhisthira bent to receive her blessing, Gandhari lifted and edge of her blindfold. In the nick of time, Krishna noticed her gesture and pushed Yudhisthira out of the way. As Gandhari’s hatred and anger found its way through her searing glance, Yudhisthira’s big toe blackened and withered where just moments ago his head would have bent at Gandhari’s feet. Shocked and appalled at what she had done, Gandhari bowed to Krishna. “Thank you, Krishna” she said. “If not for you I would have been guilty of committing a very grave crime.”
Turning towards Yudhisthira, she continued, “I hope you will forgive me. I see now where my love for my son has blinded me to justice…eroded my sense of right and wrong. I see now that I and my husband cannot tarry here a moment longer.”
Yudhisthira, understanding his aunt’s agony nodded his assent. And with that the old king and queen with their trusted advisor Vidura, left the kingdom of Hastinapura to spend the rest of their days in the forest.
And so the Mahabharata showed once again through wrong can emerge right and from right wrong. And parents blinded to an offspring’s faults, will still love them even while acknowledging their defects. Even if it’s at the end of an unnecessary, bloody war!
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