Duryodhana’s humiliation at the open competition rekindled in him the fire of hostility against the Pandavas. There would be no peace for him, he said to himself, until he had succeeded in eliminating them all. So, day and night, he hatched plots to kill them somehow.
In planning these plots, he was assisted by Sakuni, who had come to Hastinapur to spend some time with his sister, Gandhari. But ever since his arrival, he introduced into the palace an element of intrigue. In contrast to his sister’s nobility and transparency, he was skilled in every form of deceit and manipulation. He exulted in exploiting his victims’ gullibility. Short-statured and dark-complexioned, his eyes looked around for areas of vulnerability in other human beings. He believed in scoring his points through strategy rather than confrontation. Weapons of warfare, he thought, were for those who were incapable of using their brains in defeating their enemies.
No wonder, he found in Duryodhana, his nephew, a fertile ground for his nefarious designs. He was quick to realize that his nephew’s primary target was Yudhishthira, the only impediment to his accession to the throne. As Pandu’s eldest son, he could at any time stake his claim to Hastinapur, even though Duryodhana’s blind father, Dhritarashtra, held the reins of governance with the help of Bheeshma and Vidura. Bheeshma, it was widely known, had already renounced his claim to the throne. So if the Pandava brothers could somehow be eliminated, Duryodhana could rule unchallenged.
What irked Duryodhana most was Yudhishthira’s universal popularity. Whenever groups of citizens gathered at any place, they praised him for his nobility. ‘Doesn’t he carry,’ they said, ‘the laudable traits of his father, Pandu – righteousness and fairplay?’ It was, therefore, believed that Yudhishthira alone deserved to be the king of Hastinapur, not Duryodhana, who was known for his vile ways. Dhritarashtra consulted Duryodhana in state matters and he always succumbed to his wishes. Everyone knew that the king was not only visually handicapped but was also blind in his love for his son.
So when Sakuni came up with an ingenious plan to wipe out the entire Pandava family – the five brothers and their mother Kunti – Duryodhana was greatly excited. The plan was to talk the king into sending the Pandavas away to Varanavata, a heavenly holiday resort of great beauty. There, in that dream place, would be built a beautiful palace in lac, with only one entrance and no exit. Inside it, everything would be made of combustible material. Just a flick of a flame, and the entire palace, with all its inmates, would be instantly reduced to ashes. The fire would, of course, be given out as an accident.
When the plot had been finalized, Duryodhana went to Yudhishthira and said, ‘I’m sure you would like to have some respite from the humdrum of city life. I have, therefore, arranged a brief holiday for you and your family in Varanavata, where you’d stay in a beautiful palace built especially for your comfort. You’d enjoy there most the festivities in honour of Lord Siva at this time of the year.’
So meticulously was the entire plot hatched by Sakuni and Duryodhana that even Bheeshma could not smell any foul play. As for Dhritarashtra, he thought that his son’s offer of an exciting holiday for his cousins, away in sylvan environs, might bring the two sides of the Kuru family together in peace and amity.
The only person who smelt a rat in this plot was Vidura. His worst apprehensions were confirmed when one of his trusted spies unveiled to him the heinous conspiracy behind the so-called ‘holiday’ visit of the Pandavas to Varanavata. But in his wisdom, he kept the secret to himself. At the same time, he was determined to save the Pandavas.
When the plan was in place, Duryodhana and Sakuni sent their architect Purochana to Varanavata to complete the construction of the lac palace as early as possible. This accomplice used only combustible materials in raising the structure – jute, ghee and dry wood. For himself, Purochana set up a small cottage just outside the entrance so as to keep all movements around the palace under his surveillance. When the structure was ready, he sent a secret message to Duryodhana that the stage was now set. Duryodhana then arranged a warm farewell for his cousins.
Yudhishthira was indeed taken in by Duryodhana’s concern for his happiness. He now felt guilty for harbouring unkind thoughts about him.
Just as the Pandavas were about to leave, Vidura whispered into Yudhishthira’s ears, ‘Dear Yudhishthira, the man who feeds you on sweet words may be a sly enemy, hiding a dagger under his cloak. So here is a word of caution for you – be vigilant. You are besieged by flames of jealousy, hatred and revenge. Don’t get burnt by these flames. Remember that when a forest catches fire, it is only a rat or a porcupine that can escape by burrowing its way into the ground, to emerge safely at the other end. Of course, as I have always said, no harm will ever come your way as you are all blessed creatures.’
Yudhishthira listened to Vidura intently and then smiled. ‘I have fathomed your secret message. How very fortunate we are to have a well-wisher like you.’
On their way to Varanavata, Yudhishthira shared the secret with his mother and brothers. ‘Since there is danger ahead of us,’ he said, ‘let us be alert, but not look too anxious or fearful.’ Then he added, somewhat cryptically: ‘Nobody should know what we know.’
When they reached Varanavata, they were received by its citizens with great warmth and enthusiasm. Their first day turned out to be very hectic as they visited some temples and participated in the festivities in honour of Lord Siva.
A couple of days later, a stranger showed up at the palace and introduced himself as a miner. To Yudhishthira he said, ‘I carry a message for you, O Prince. When a forest catches fire, it is only a rat or a porcupine that can escape.’
Yudhishthira smiled and patted the man on his shoulders. The same night, the miner started digging an underground passage out of the palace. He would work all through the night and rest during the day so that Purochana’s suspicions would not be aroused. One night, as he was busy digging with his crowbar, Yudhishthira tried to engage him in casual conversation. But the man said, without putting aside his crowbar, ‘O Prince, I am a worker who has been assigned an urgent task. I have no time for words. I listen only to the strokes of my crowbar because they speak the language I understand.’
Yudhishthira was immensely impressed by the miner’s devotion to duty. But in spite of all the precautions taken by Yudhishthira, Kunti could not hide her anxiety.
‘I feel scared at night,’ she said. ‘Why has destiny trapped us into such an ordeal?’
But Bheema consoled her, saying, ‘Since you are the mother of five brave sons, why should there be any reason for you to be anxious or depressed?’
Purochana visited the palace once or twice every day on the pretext of asking about the Pandavas’ comfort.
‘Prince Duryodhana has been sending me messages to ask about your welfare,’ he would say. ‘Please tell him,’ Yudhishthira would reply, ‘that we are enjoying every moment of our stay here.’
To keep Purochana off the scent, the Pandavas would spend their days outside, hunting or trekking in the hills. In fact, they were busy surveying the forests around the palace. In just a few days, they had charted out their route of escape.
Every night, Bheema kept vigil to ensure that there was no suspicious movement anywhere around the palace. The soldiers on duty outside the palace, the Pandavas knew, were there to prevent them from escaping once the structure was set ablaze.
One morning, when the Pandavas awoke, the miner announced that he had completed the task and was ready to return to Hastinapur.
That evening, Kunti invited some attendants to a feast. They ate and drank so much that they fell asleep right inside the palace.
Now arrived the great moment. Purochana must be outwitted, the Pandavas decided. They must act before the enemy struck. Bheema then picked up a taper and torched one room. At once, the palace erupted into a fierce blaze. But before the flames started racing from one room to the other, the Pandavas descended into the underground passageway and escaped to safety.
In a short while, the fire gutted the palace – also Purochana’s cottage, killing him instantly. On seeing the flames billowing into the sky, the citizens of Varanavata rushed out of their houses. There were loud wailing and crying. A few voices in the crowd were heard saying that all this was the handiwork of Duryodhana, who had planned to kill the Pandavas. As word reached Duryodhana, his spies rushed to Varanavata. When some bones were found in the ashes, the spies were convinced that the Pandavas had perished in the fire.
Duryodhana was thrilled to hear the news. He spread the news in Hastinapur that it had been a tragic accident. To show their grief, he and his brothers feigned deep mourning. They wore black garments and offered prayers for the peace of the departed souls.
When the news reached Bheeshma, he shut himself in his private chamber and cried bitterly like a child. He cursed himself for being still alive when his dear Pandavas had died in the fire. Duryodhana was, however, mystified to see Vidura calm and unruffled. Was it the detachment of a spiritualist, he wondered. But Vidura lost no time in walking over to Bheeshma’s private chamber to share with him the entire sequence of events. He assured him that the Pandavas were quite safe.
‘You have taken a great load off my mind, Vidura,’ said Bheeshma, heaving a sigh of relief. ‘But what a dastardly and evil plot had Duryodhana hatched!’
Vidura, however, advised him not to divulge the secret to anyone, lest Duryodhana and Sakuni hatch another plot.
The Pandavas had by then walked through half of the forest. It had been a very painful journey all the way. What anguished the brothers most was to see their mother limping on sore feet. Seeing her in pain, Bheema carried her on his shoulders as they walked through the rest of the forest. When she felt thirsty, he let her rest under a tree and looked around for water. When he spotted a pool, he picked a few lotuses and folded them into cups for carrying water. Although Kunti’s thirst was quenched, there was still sorrow in her heart. Turning to Yudhishthira, she asked, ‘Why is there so much evil in this world? If God is just and merciful, why has He singled us out for this suffering?’
‘We are just mortals, O mother,’ he replied. ‘How can we understand God’s mysterious design? Maybe we are atoning for some sins committed in our past life.’
But Kunti’s brow still remained knitted.
A little further into the forest, Sahadeva also started to complain of exhaustion. So Bheema now had two loads on his body – his mother on his shoulders and his youngest brother in his arms. As for food, they ate whatever fruit Arjuna and Nakula could gather from the trees.
They were relieved to see a river at the other end of the forest and a boat anchored near its bank.
‘I have instructions to ferry you all across this river,’ said the boatman.
Was it Vidura’s hand at work here as well, Yudhishthira wondered.