Once, an age ago, during his time of misfortune, king Harishchandra of the race of the Sun had sought refuge in Varanasi. Now the people of that city washed their streets clean, set them out in arches and banners, draped these with garlands and flew bright flags from their rooftops. No one stayed home on the day the Pandavas arrived in Siva's timeless city and Kunti and her sons received a tumultuous welcome.
They were brought to the old palace in the heart of the city. When they had been in Varanasi for ten days and the initial strangeness of the place had begun to fade, Purochana came to see them. He told them about the new palace he had built for them.
"It wouldn't have been proper to take you there when you had just arrived. Now the people will not mind if you move to the new palace. It is built on the edge of the city and you will have more pri- vacy."
Yudhishtira became suspicious the moment Purochana said that Bheeshma had ordered the palace built: the patriarch had not mentioned it. Yet, the Pandava could not refuse to live in it without good reason. He went with Purochana, but he was on his guard.
The first thing Yudhishtira noticed was the moat around the little palace, with sharp stakes in it. Purochana said with a laugh, "No thief can get in, unless the front door is opened to welcome him."
Yudhishtira wondered why stakes lined the moat next to the inner walls as well. It seemed to him the moat was as much to prevent those within the palace from leaving, as to keep intruders out. His eyes never leaving the princes' faces, Purochana showed them around proudly.
The incendiary lac, fat and resin, with which the walls of the mansion were filled, had been plas- tered over and painted. The walls had been smoked with incense. The Pandavas seemed to notice nothing amiss, as they went from room to room, admiring the lofty ceiling and the fine views of the city and the jungle behind the palace.
Yudhishtira announced, "My brothers and I will be happy to move here. It is the better-appointed dwelling and we will certainly have more privacy. Let our possessions be fetched straightaway from the old palace, I see no reason to return to it. We thank you, Purochana; your labor will be rewarded."
The delighted Purochana hurried off to have the Pandavas' belongings brought to the palace of lac.
As soon as they were alone, Yudhishtira took Bheema aside.
"Do you smell anything strange?"
Bheema sniffed the air and his eyes grew round. "What is it?"
"Lac, tallow and resin, I think." Yudhishtira tapped on the walls with his knuckles and they made
a hollow sound. "This is what Vidura was trying to warn us about. Beware of fire, he said. If I am not wrong this Purochana is Duryodhana's man and he has built this palace with every incendiary mate- rial he could find. And surely one night the good Purochana will set fire to this wonderful palace and cremate us inside it."
Bheema's face was a picture. "We must return to the old palace at once! With the moat full of stakes, we will be caught like rats in a trap here. We cannot wait, Yudhishtira: what if he starts his fire tonight? This place will burn like straw."
Yudhishtira laid a hand on his hasty brother's arm. "We mustn't be rash, whatever we do. This is a carefully laid plan. I doubt that Purochana will be in any hurry to set us on fire. He won't want the people to say the Pandavas were killed as soon as they arrived. He will bide his time, at least a month, or more, before he shows his hand.
He is not the only one who knows what he is doing. Vidura knows about the plot; he got wind of it in Hastinapura. He will not sit idly, while we are killed. So let us be wary, but for the present, let us wait rather than be caught out in haste. We have a long way to go; we must think where that way leads. We must think beyond this house of lac."
Bheema did not agree. "You are forgetting what sort of men Duryodhana and his friends are. Our cousin does not think twice and never did, to kill anyone. He is not going to let what the people say deter him, not for a day. He wants us dead and his way to the throne cleared; and the sooner the better.
I am not for waiting. I say strike back at them. Let us take fire to Hastinapura and finish them when they least expect it. Arjuna by himself is enough for the lot. And if he isn't, I will go with him and tear them limb from limb."
His eyes shone at the prospect. Then he growled, "Curse them! They have destroyed our peace of mind. We shall not be able to sleep until we kill them. That's what I say and I think I am right."
Yudhishtira smiled and stroked Bheema's head, as one might an impulsive boy's. "It isn't just this house of lac we have to consider, but our situation. That will not change. Vidura said that beyond the fire our way lies clear under the stars. Now I think I know what he meant. For a moment, just sup- pose we die in Purochana's fire. Our uncle will put on a great show of grief. 'Ah, my brother's sons are dead! They were like my own children, the hope of my old age. All five of them are gone in one fell stroke. Oh, fate is so cruel to me.'
With his blind face, in which no one can read the truths of his heart, he is the perfect hypocrite. Pitama Bheeshma is righteous. Yet there is a part of him so detached, so enigmatic: as cold as his grandsire Himavan. He will be sad we are dead, even heartbroken. But he won't blame Dhritarashtra, or punish Duryodhana for murdering us. Drona and Kripa will be sad, as well; neither will avenge our deaths. They will not dare point a finger at the king and his son."
"What are you trying to say, Yudhishtira? Tell me plainly!"
"If we leave this place now, we will always have to be on our guard because our enemies will know we have discovered their intentions. After that, we shall never be certain how or when they strike at us. And strike they will. We will have no peace and they will have every advantage.
The other choice we have is to accuse Duryodhana and the king openly. That would be foolish, Bheema: an unequal battle for which we are not prepared. They have given out such favors and wealth of late in Hastinapura that they have enough men of influence in their keep. We shall be humiliated. It is never the common, honest citizen who decides the outcome of these struggles for power, but always those who manipulate the people in crowds. If we accuse Dhritarashtra and Dury- odhana, it will be like the fledgling flying against the grown eagle, the beggar waging war on a king. They are prepared for every exigency—Duryodhana, Dusasana, the wily Shakuni, the king and all their friends in and out of the court. In our innocence, we have only just learnt what they intend; at the moment, the advantage lies with Duryodhana and his father."
Bheema was growing impatient. "We are sitting in a house of lac and you are talking politics. For heaven's sake and all of ours, say what we must do!"
"Calm yourself, Bheema, that is the first thing you must do. As for the rest, we must watch and wait; let our enemies believe that we suspect nothing and are ripe for burning."
"Do you mean to sacrifice us to Duryodhana?" cried Bheema.
"Not at all," laughed Yudhishtira. "I assure you, we have time. Vidura will not fail to help us. Wait just a week; and let us tell the others and keep watch in turns every night. Whoever sets fire to this mansion has first to come to the front door. Let one of us always keep vigil beside it, until either this week is over or we hear from Vidura."
Reluctantly, Bheema agreed. Yudhishtira mused, "Suppose we find a way, or Vidura does, by which we can make Duryodhana believe we have died in the house of lac? Suppose we let it burn down and escape secretly. Then, surely the advantage of the next surprise will be with us and not our cousin."
Bheema was not entirely convinced; but deep down, he trusted Yudhishtira's judgement more than his own. They told the others what they feared. They agreed Yudhishtira's was the best course open to them. Each night, with no lamp burning, the brothers took turns to keep watch at the front door.
It was a strained and anxious time. Often, they felt truly like rats in a trap. They kept each other's spirits up, especially Bheema, who joked and laughed even more than usual. Nobody who visited them, least of all Purochana, suspected anything of the anguish they endured during their first week in the house of lac. When, years later, they looked back on those days they felt that was the beginning of everything that followed.
