Duryodhana felt completely forsaken. His body burning with anger and frustration, he tried to calm his inflamed nerves. Returning to his tent, now that most of his stalwarts were gone, seemed pointless. So he decided to let his horse carry him wherever it chose.
As he was riding through a forest on the outskirts of the battlefield, he saw a lake, shaded by trees on all sides. Its waters looked cool and limpid, as if they were inviting him for a dip. But just as he drew close to its bank, his horse suddenly collapsed on the ground. Its unexpected death brought tears to Duryodhana’s eyes.
‘So even you have forsaken me,’ he said to his horse. ‘Now I feel utterly companionless.’
Heartbroken, he started to walk towards the lake, still holding his mace in his right hand. Then he took off his clothes and crept into the waters. Deeper and deeper he dived, till he touched the lake’s bottom where he sat cross-legged, like a sage absorbed in meditation. Away from the battlefield, he was now at peace with himself.
But he did not know that some spies of Yudhishthira had seen him enter the lake. His dead horse confirmed that it was Duryodhana hiding inside it. In no time, word about his hideout reached the Pandava brothers, who had been searching for him everywhere on the battlefield. They had also looked into his tent, only to find him missing.
In a short while, the Pandava brothers, along with Krishna, reached the lake. They had no difficulty in spotting him at the bottom of the lake whose waters were transparent like a crystal.
It was Yudhishthira who unleashed a barrage of taunts at the fallen warrior.
‘That’s a nice place to hide, O Duryodhana. But we were determined to hunt you down. This is a coward’s way of fleeing the battlefield. You have always bragged about your invincibility, but now you have hidden yourself there like a worm in dung. Come out, you fugitive from justice, and show your mettle in a combat – that is, if you still have any fire left in you.’
These barbs hurt Duryodhana more than any sword. If only he could explain that it was the heat of anger in his body that had led him to the lake’s depths and not his cowardice! Otherwise, he had still enough strength to fight back.
‘You got it wrong, O Yudhishthira,’ Duryodhana retorted. ‘It wasn’t my timidity that brought me here. It was just a vain attempt to cool my nerves. But now I realize that even the water of this lake has not quenched my thirst for revenge. Don’t forget that I can still fight the whole lot of you, all together or one by one. All I need is a little time to pull myself together. I know you are out to kill me so that you may grab my throne. But I am willing to let you have it, as I have no longer any desire to hold on to it.’
With a sneer on his lips, Yudhishthira hurled another taunt at Duryodhana: ‘I am deeply touched by your magnanimity. It is indeed a nice joke that you are offering me something that you have already lost.’ He paused as intense anger almost choked him. ‘If you still have any honour left in you, come out and fight with me. If you win, I will let you have your throne back.’
His offer shocked Krishna, who felt that Yudhishthira had lost his reason. He should have known that he was no match for a great warrior like Duryodhana.
‘No,’ replied Duryodhana. ‘I would not condescend myself to the level of combating someone as frail and timid as yourself. But, if you like, you may choose any one of your brothers to fight with me. How about Bheema? My mace would be enough for the duel.’
Duryodhana now emerged from the lake, dressed himself, brandished his mace and attacked Bheema, his sworn enemy. Having already killed all of Duryodhana’s brothers, Bheema now felt happy to get an opportunity to slay the last of the Kauravas. But soon he found, to his great surprise, that his adversary was not to be taken lightly. Each time he hurled a blow at Duryodhana, it was parried with great adroitness. In fact, as the duel continued for a while, Duryodhana seemed to be gaining an edge over his adversary. Twice he hit Bheema so hard that he staggered on his feet and almost fainted. For a moment, Krishna was alarmed to see Bheema losing ground. But soon the mighty warrior was again up on his feet and he brandished his mace menacingly over Duryodhana’s head.
The din of the maces clanging against each other created a rumble in the atmosphere. At one time, Duryodhana not only hit Bheema on his right shoulder but also lunged at his chest, knocking him off his feet. But Bheema sprang up like a wounded tiger and retaliated with a blow on Duryodhana’s left shoulder.
As the fight continued, Arjuna asked Krishna, ‘Who do you think is a more skilled fighter?’
‘Well, if Bheema has the greater muscle power, Duryodhana could claim superior skill. I’m afraid that if this duel continues in strict conformity with the rules of warfare, it is quite possible that Duryodhana might emerge victorious.’
‘That would be terrible, O Vasudeva,’ said Arjuna. ‘Imagine letting this evil man win this duel after he has lost the war.’
Krishna smiled. ‘Just wait and see how I am able to tilt the balance in Bheema’s favour.’
While Krishna was engaged in this conversation, Duryodhana raised his mace to inflict a deadly blow on Bheema. But just then Krishna coughed to attract Bheema’s attention. Then he thumped his right thigh which was a signal to Bheema to hit Duryodhana right there. In a flash, Bheema summoned his full power and struck with his mace at Duryodhana’s right thigh. So powerful was the blow that Duryodhana staggered on his feet and fell to the ground, bleeding profusely.
‘Was it not a dishonourable act, O Bheema,’ snarled Duryodhana, ‘to hit me below the waist?’
‘But dishonour has been your hallmark all through your life,’ Bheema retorted. ‘If your memory has failed you, let me remind you what you said when Draupadi was being disrobed by Duhsasana in the open assembly. Didn’t you then say that you would like to have her sit on your thighs? Since then, O Duryodhana, I have been waiting for the moment to smash them.’
With these words, he drew close to Duryodhana, now lying on the ground, and put his right foot on his chest. But before he could break his ribs, he heard Yudhishthira shout at him.
‘Stop, O Bheema! You are going too far. Don’t humiliate someone who is gasping for his last breath. After all, he is our cousin. Let us forgive him for all his wrongdoings. This is the moment to salute him for his valour.’
At the royal palace in Hastinapur, Sanjaya came almost to the end of his eighteen-day-long narration.
‘Utter hypocrisy,’ snapped Dhritarashtra. ‘Look how he feigns compassion and forgiveness after Bheema’s cold-blooded murder of my dearest child. God will certainly curse the Pandavas for this gruesome crime.’ Then he slumped in his chair and a flood of tears started flowing from his eyes. It took him quite a while to find his voice. Amidst sobs, he spoke in a voice that was hoarse and deeply anguished. ‘Tell me, Sanjaya, can a blind man’s eyes hold so much water as to inundate the entire battledfield of Kurukshetra? Will I be able to sleep tonight? I know I will be haunted by nightmares. I will hear bats shrieking from every cornice of my chamber and owls hooting at my pain and desolation. To me, it is not the end of this war but the destruction of the entire universe.’ He then lapsed into silence, cupping his head in both hands.
‘O King,’ said Sanjaya, ‘can a man avert his destiny? Can tears wash away a single word from his horoscope?’
‘I know all that,’ Dhritarashtra responded. ‘But let me cry my heart out. Maybe my tears will assuage my pain. Now I feel that Yudhishthira was right when he taunted me to practise what I advised him to do – retreat into some forest and spend my days and nights in prayer and meditation. Not for just thirteen years but till I close my eyes.’
‘I cannot see you in such pain,’ said Sanjaya. ‘I am on the verge of tears myself.’
‘I am fortunate to have a companion like you – so loyal, forthright and understanding,’ said Dhritarashtra. Then, after a pause, he asked, ‘Would you do me a favour, Sanjaya?’
‘Anything, O King.’
‘Since I don’t have the strength to break this terrible news to Gandhari, would you do it for me? You can handle words…’
‘But this time, words may fail me.’ Sanjaya sighed. ‘A mother’s grief over her son’s death defies articulation. But I will try.’
Then Sanjaya trudged out of the chamber, like someone who had woken from a nightmare.