Tyaga

Arjuna felt a sharp pang in his heart, as he stopped to breathe. The chilly wind was taking its toll. His curly dark hair, now streaked generously with white, rode upon the current of cold air descending from the mountains farther. Having spent his early formative years in humble dwellings on a mountain just like this, Arjuna had not expected to be overwhelmed by the harsh weather. However, the long years spent on the plains, entangled in the serpentine politics of the land of the many rivers, seemed to have knocked from him the tolerance to nature's many whims developed in his youth.

Hearing a blunt noise he turned back with a jolt. His heart skipped a beat out of shock. At some distance downstream, Draupadi lay unconscious on the snowy trail. Bheema rushed past Arjuna along with their twin brothers. They had hardly reached her when Yudhishthira's voice reverberated down the stiff slope, "Leave her. This is the Lord's wish!" Arjuna wanted to run down to where she lay, and wrap her in his arms. You all go walk your death march, he wanted to say, she and I will find our own path! Every fibre of his being wished to protest against the King's order, but Arjuna felt as though his feet were frozen to the ground. Years and years of devotion, and servitude to the head of the family seemed to hold him in place.

"But why?" Bheema yelled back.

"Despite having made an oath before the sacred fire, she has not treated all five of her husbands equally. All her life she has been partial to Arjuna. Leave her there!" Yudhishthira declared as he resumed walking.

Arjuna wished to scream and deny the accusation, but no words came out of his mouth. Before his eyes, he saw a much younger version of the woman lying on the ground.

"Nothing pleases me but you, Phalguni!" She had pleaded with him to stay. He had been on his way out then, going towards Amaravati, to meet his divine father.

"This is highly improper of you Krishnaa! You are a wife of all five brothers, such a crude display of emotion towards one of us doesn't suit your status!" He had said without even looking back. Arjun tried hard to remember. Had he not wanted to turn back right that instant? Oh, how their life would have been if he had simply held her hand in his and ran away? Instead, he had steeled his heart and pushed her away. All their life, he had pushed her away, all to preserve the illusion that neither he nor she regretted having agreed to share Draupadi among all five brothers. And now, even after an entire lifetime of holding back, they stood accused of the same crime.

He looked back at the pallid face of his beloved, now lying in a dusty, snowy slurry in the middle of the road. Petite snowflakes fell gently upon her closed eyelids, like morning dew on freshly bloomed flowers at dawn. Bheema sat down on the ground, cradling her unconscious frame in his strong arms, whispering a lullaby Arjuna had heard so many times.

After their father's death, when their mother would still sit numb with grief, while Yudhishthira would talk to the many rishis that came to offer condolences, Bheema would pull the younger three to another room, singing that same tune as he lulled them to sleep. He had learnt it from some locals who lived further up the mountain. Bheema would repeat the lullaby several times, almost like a hymn, even after his brothers would be fast asleep. Even when they wandered aimlessly from forest to forest after escaping the burning house at Varnavart, this meagre tune served as their only tie to their previous life. The first time Bheema taught the lullaby, he shared it with Hidimba, his first wife, as they together lulled their son Ghatotkacha to sleep. Eventually, he went on to teach it to all the Pandava wives, and eventually the wives of their children. The last one to learn the song from him was princess Uttara, on whose shoulder now rested the very future of the Kuru dynasty. Will she remember to teach it to her son?

After a long time, Bheema finally rested Draupadi's slack head on a small boulder. He picked up some stones and set them all around her, like a protective lakshmana rekha. He selected a sharper rock, carefully placing it within her palm. "What if she wakes up and there comes a wild animal charging her way?" He said in a hoarse voice.

Then silently, the brothers followed King Yudhishthira who was already far ahead.

Only a little farther along the trail, Sahadeva crashed onto the ground. Nakul fell beside his brother, desperately running his palm through his brother's hair, trying to coax his twin to his feet. Sahadeva, however, lay quiet, like his entire life. He had never been one to cause a commotion, preferring to fade into shadows. He squeezed his brother's hand, in silence. Go! Sahadeva gestured silently. With a heavy heart, Nakula followed his brothers.

"He prided himself upon unparalleled wisdom. Come!" Yudhishthira called back.

Arjuna had never been as close to the twins as he was with his older brothers. The twins were always encompassed in a cocoon of their own, a space so private that even their older brothers were not allowed in. Arjuna's mind wandered back to the time when they had come newly to Hastinapur. He remembered how he had taught the two of them to hold a bow straight and to shoot with precision. He had been dismayed to find their interest in archery did not quite match up to Arjuna's. Eventually, he had learned to rejoice when they understood his lessons on archery and extrapolated the same into honing their swordsmanship, defeating Arjuna in that area quite easily.

After some while, Nakula found himself unable to walk any farther. He sat down under an outgrowing rock and weakly smiled back at Arjuna and Bheema, who wept silently. When did our little Nakula grow up so much, wondered Arjuna, that he welcomes death with a smile? He wanted to run to him and wrap him in his arms as he used to when Nakula would occasionally wake up with nightmares after Duryodhana had tried to poison Bheema.

"Why him? What did he ever do to anyone?!" questioned Bheema.

"He was vain on account of his beauty!" replied Yudhishthira, still stone-faced.

Wiping away his tears Arjuna forced himself along the trail once more. What was that?! Was that a flower on the side of the trail? Arjun looked down. There was! A lone flower sprouting from the snow. He bent down to examine the flower. To his surprise, he did not see it anymore. It must be here somewhere! He thought as he carefully advanced down the side of the cliff. Suddenly he lost balance and found himself falling into nothingness.

With a jerk, he found Bheema's strong arm grasping his hand.

Then the gale bore down Yudhishthira's voice, "Leave his hand, Vrikodara!"

Arjun shook his head vigorously. "Please, no!" He whispered, pleading with his brother.

"Why?!" Screamed Bheema at Yudhishthira.

"He suffers from vanity. He thinks there is no greater warrior than him in this world. Let him go, I command you!"

Arjun silently shook his head through tears as he felt Bheema's grasp weaken, and then disappear. He shut his eyes as he felt his body roll down the cliff, sharp rocks and stray branches cutting through his sides. Finally, he came to rest upon a boulder near the bottom.

His entire body ached from the wounds. He was barely conscious, yet he reached out hither and thither looking for some semblance of support. From his studies of ayurveda he knew that now, without any medicine to soothe his wounds, he would hallucinate, hanging on the very thread of life and death, until Yama-deva descended kindly to take him away. He sighed.

A smile crept through his pain, as he felt a familiar arm wrap around him. Krishna's honeyed voice emerged beside him enveloping his very soul, "What is there to fear, Partha?" Arjun tried his best to reply, but he found himself too tired. "It's alright." Krishna shushed him, "I'm right here. I never left you in life, my Partha, and I am not leaving now."

A wave of peace washed over Arjuna. He smiled. He laid his head down on his friend's shoulder as a scintillating light drowned out the entire landscape, and he fell asleep.