While Yudhishthira was with Bheeshma, Krishna was on his way to the spot where lay Duryodhana, dead. Instead of feeling elated over the victory of the Pandavas, a sense of remorse now begun to torment him.
The shades of evening deepened and a cold wind began to blow through the trees. By the time Krishna reached where Duryodhana’s body lay, it was quite dark. As he gazed at the dead man, compassion and guilt welled up in his heart. Whatever his failings, had he not been unrivalled as a wielder of the mace? And had he not valued friendship above everything else?
While he was lost in these musings, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the spot. It was a woman, with her head veiled, and eyes blindfolded. It was Gandhari – Krishna recognized her instantly. How had she reached here, unaided, with her eyes blindfolded? Before he could greet her, she herself asked, ‘Is it Vasudeva?’
Amazed, Krishna stammered: ‘How could you recognize me in the dark, O Gandhari, with your eyes blindfolded?’
‘With my mind’s eye, O Krishna,’ she replied. Then, with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice, she said, ‘I have known people stumbling even when they had the vision of an eagle. Like you, O Krishna. You fell from your divine peak when you engineered Bheeshma’s fall – and now my son’s death.’
Although stung by her taunt, Krishna turned around to say, ‘Don’t forget that war has its own compulsions.’
Her anger now rising to a pitch, she retorted: ‘This is blatant hypocrisy. If you had wanted, you could have averted this war. But you chose to forsake impartiality, justice and fair play. You stooped to all sorts of strategies to defeat the Kauravas, inciting one side of the Kuru family against the other. As for me, you know, I loved the Pandavas as my own children, and Kunti as my sister.’
‘Well, I too have always held you in the highest esteem − for your nobility. I recall how you declined to wish Duryodhana victory in the war. All that you offered him was your blessing. That indeed was upholding dharma over maternal love.’ Krishna paused. ‘But you cannot accuse me of partiality. You know that when Duryodhana and Arjuna came to solicit my support, your son chose my army of Narayanas, not me. So I had to offer Arjuna my unslinted support and commitment.’
‘Your commitment !’ Gandhari almost snarled at him. ‘That led to the killing of all my sons. And here I now stand over the dead body of my dearest child, your last victim.’ She broke off. ‘An erring child he often was, but wasn’t he a limb of my body – someone I carried within my womb for nine long months? I wish you could understand a mother’s agony.’
Krishna imagined a pair of eyes sizzling with wrath behind the blindfold.
‘Listen, O Vasudeva,’ Gandhari resumed. ‘You may claim divinity as your weapon, but I too have been blessed by the gods for my devotion to my blind husband – and for my uprightness, as you have yourself conceded. So I curse you now, O Krishna, with death, for destroying all that was precious to me. I also curse the house of Vrishnis with total annihilation.’
‘I take your curse as a boon,’ responded Krishna, ‘since it is now time for me to shed my mortal frame. Maybe God has chosen you as an instrument of my deliverance. I’d be pleased to shed this body, now that I have completed my mission on this earth.’ He paused. ‘But as regards your curse on my clan, I may tell you that the Vrishnis are already doomed to destroy themselves. So let me now take leave of you, O gracious lady, with deep gratitude. May God help you overcome your grief. One last word, however. Let me tell you that I came here out of compassion for Duryodhana, and to pray for the peace of his soul.’
As Krishna walked away, Gandhari bent over Duryodhana’s body and started crying bitterly.