The Pandavas Seek Bheeshma’s Advice
Sitting in his tent with his counsellors, Yudhishthira was hopeful that he would be able find some way to eliminate Bheeshma, who had become a scourge to the Pandava army. Their soldiers looked upon him as a hyena chasing them all over the battlefield.
There was a brief spell of silence, after which Yudhishthira turned to Krishna and said, ‘O Vasudeva, you must have guessed why I have called you all here. You know that my grandfather has emerged as a deadly killer of our soldiers. I have now come to a painful realization that there is no hope of victory for us so long as he keeps unleashing his fury upon us every day. I have begun to feel that it was a grievous mistake to challenge the Kauravas to war to reclaim Indraprastha. Wouldn’t it be a sin to wade through a pool of blood to reach my throne? But even that will remain a mere dream so long as my grandfather is active in battle. I was far happier living in the forest, away from this din of battle. Is there any way out of this impasse, O Krishna? You are not only Arjuna’s charioteer, but also our guide. Won’t you steer us through the maze of this war? Would you advise me to go, even at this stage, to Duryodhana and plead for the cessation of all hostilities.’
There was a flame of intense anger in Krishna’s eyes as Yudhishthira finished speaking. Jumping to his feet, Krishna lashed out: ‘I could never imagine a brave Kshatriya like you wallowing in such despondency. I am utterly disappointed with you. What sort of dharma do you practise? Are you offering capitulation in the garb of peace and renunciation? Listen, if you feel like kneeling before the enemy, I will hurl myself into this war, as I have already threatened to do. Twice I came very close to eliminating this old man, but each time destiny intervened. No, I was not swayed by Bheeshma’s plea to kill him so that he might be released from the human bondage. It was, in fact, Arjuna’s pledge to eliminate him the next time he confronted him. The last time when I was about to kill him, word came that Abhimanyu was being harassed by a host of Kaurava wariors. So Arjuna and I had to rush there to rescue him.’ He paused. ‘But let me assure you that this time I am determined to get Bheeshma out of our way. I don’t care if I have to break my vow not to fight. The gods would surely forgive me if I used my Sudarsan chakra for a noble cause. I too respect the old warrior, but now my esteem for him has turned into hatred. I believe that love and hate are two sides of the same coin. There is a moment when one is forced to kill the very person one loves. The way to inner peace is to transcend all contraries – love and hate, success and defeat, profit and loss. So let me do it tomorrow – complete the task that has remained unaccomplished so far. Let my chakra do it for you. Once he is put out of action, victory will kiss our feet. Our soldiers will bless us, for this will bring the bloody war to a speedy end.’
‘No!’ shouted Yudhishthira. ‘I would not let you break your vow. I would not like your hands, white as milk, be stained with the sin of a pledge broken. So let us put our heads together and explore some other avenue to eliminate him. Sometimes, strategy is a far more potent weapon than the bow or the sword.’
There was a long pause in their deliberations as everyone grappled with what was certainly a very vexed problem. Then Yudhishthira, who had regained his composure, came up with what sounded was a brilliant idea.
‘Why don’t we all go to Bheeshma’s tent,’ he suggested, ‘and beard the lion in his own den? We will fall at his feet and seek his own advice on how to eliminate him. I will remind him that when I sought his blessings before the beginning of the war, he had blessed me with victory. We will then tell him that victory could never come our way so long as he was active on the battlefield. I am certain that he will himself help us out in some way. Surely Krishna would concede that even if the old man has been a killer of our soldiers, he has not hurt any one of us? Our spies have brought us reports that Duryodhana has often accused him of indulgence towards us. And has he not laid down his arms twice before Krishna, pleading to be killed by him? And did he not compliment Arjuna on his brilliant archery each time his Gandiva shot an arrow at him? So he is not entirely tainted, you see. Let us not forget that white is the colour of his chariot, not black. And so are his horses, white as milk. His grey hair is also testimony to his compassion and wisdom.’
A smile now rippled across Krishna’s face, as though he endorsed Yudhishthira’s suggestion. ‘Here is someone who has turned into an ardent admirer of that deadly killer. Well, the old man should have been here to listen to the eldest of the Pandavas shower accolades on him.’ Then, after a pause, his face now wearing a sombre expression, Krishna said, ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I was just being facetious. But deep down in my heart, I fully endorse your suggestion. I think this strategy would certainly work. So let there be no delay. Let us all go to his tent right now and seek his help.’
A little later, six figures were seen walking towards Bheeshma’s tent, under a dark sky, starless and moonless. They had all discarded their weapons and were barefoot. As they stepped into the tent, Bheeshma jerked out of his sleep. He sat up in his bed, befuddled. Krishna was the one he first addressed, with a gracious smile on his face: ‘O Lord,’ Bheeshma said, how is it that I see you this time without your chakra? You know, you can get me anywhere, anytime.’ Then, turning to Yudhishthira, he said, ‘I am delighted to see all my dear children here. Isn’t this a family reunion? But from your grim faces, I guess that you are here to discuss some serious matter. What is it? You know I would do anything to help you.’
‘Anything, O my revered grandfather?’ asked Yudhishthira.
‘Yes, anything, I repeat.’
‘I have come here to remind you of the blessing you gave me before the war started. Did you not wish me victory in this war? But how can it come my way so long as your bow and arrows are massacring my soldiers daily? At this rate, you may wipe out my entire army in a day or two. How can we stem the tide of your relentless devastation?’
Bheesma knitted his foreheads. He seemed to be grappling with some dilemma. He had fathomed what Yudhishthira had in his mind.
‘I understand it all, dear child,’ the old warrior said, in a gentle voice. ‘Indeed, it is true that so long as I am there on the battlefield, you have no chance of success whatsoever. Because the gods have endowed me with invincibility. The only two weapons that can vanquish me are Krishna’s chakra and Arjuna’s Gandiva. But, for one reason or another, these weapons have not worked so far.’ The old man then took a deep breath, as if he were summoning some force from the inner core of his being. ‘All right, I will honour the blessing that I gave you, dear Yudhishthira. I will not let you go back to your tent empty-handed. Yes, I will voluntarily put down my arms tomorrow and cease fighting.’
Six pairs of eyes now waited with bated breath for Bheeshma’s response.
‘But how will this happen, O dear grandfather?’ asked Yudhishthira.
‘Bring in front of me tomorrow Drupada’s son Sikhandi, and this miracle will happen. Because he was Amba in his previous life, the woman who never forgave me for not marrying her. So she vowed to be the cause of my death in her next life. This boon was granted to her by the gods in response to her penance. See how her love for me has now turned into lethal revenge! A woman spurned, you know, is more ferocious than a wounded tigress.
‘Sikhandi may be a man now, but to me he is still Amba, one of the three daughters of the king of Kasi. And being a Kshatriya, I will not raise my bow against any woman. So when Sikhandi appears before me, I will put down my bow, and that could be the moment for Arjuna, my dearest child, to shoot at me from behind this woman. But Krishna will have to persuade Arjuna, once again, not to let his hands falter. Let Arjuna bless me too as he trains his Gandiva at me. You see how love and death can interblend! I am sure Krishna would understand what I am now saying.’
Suddenly, a tearful voice broke in: ‘How will I be able to raise my Gandiva against you, O my dear grandfather?’ asked Arjuna. ‘Just this moment, I recalled how, as a child of four, I once sat on your lap after I had played with mud and sand. But you still caressed me, even though I had soiled your white robe. And now you want me to stain my hands with your blood!’ Saying this, Arjuna burst into tears.
‘Come, come, my dear child, this is not the moment to be carried away by emotion,’ said Bheeshma. ‘You have a task to perform. Now go back to your tents, all of you, and let me have my last sleep.’ He sighed. ‘Before I return to my bed, I’d like to have a word with my mother, Ganga. I am sure she would like me to return home to her. She must be waiting for her last vasu to return to heaven. Haven’t I had more than my share of pain and suffering on this earth? Look, how destiny has forced me to fight on the side of falsehood and injustice!’
While Yudhishthira and his brothers broke into sobs, Krishna said: ‘O Bheeshma, the history of Bharatavarsha will always remember you as the greatest of the Kuru race. Your life has proved that true divinity lies in renunciation and sacrifice. Not a moment of peace you have had in your personal life, for you have lived only for others. Let me salute you, therefore, O son of Ganga!’
Immersed in sorrow and silence, they all returned to their own tents. Darkness still lay over the battlefield like a shroud.