Oh, my Lord! Your Highness!…
Has the blindness afflicted your mind too?” Draupadi screamed as if her throat would break.
“Your sons have given up righteousness and morality…but can you give it up, my Lord?
A father’s love for his sons! It’s quite natural. It’s your duty. But does it suit a father to remain silent when his sons indulge in unrighteousness?”
A fiery storm blew searing hard in Draupadi’s eyes. “Remember, Oh King! Your intense love for your son
will end up in a great disaster! Where the woman is worshipped, prosperity will flourish. Where the woman is tortured, the country will perish. Woman is not weak; she is Power. She is Invincible. Like the Earth, she can endure everything; but when she is in a fury, she can destroy everything. She is an all-sacrificing, all-enduring and all-destroying Power! She will kill her enemies. She is Devi –Goddess Incarnate!”
Dusshasana laughed aloud. In his hands he held the stretched hem of Princess Draupadi’s sari covering the bosom of her body. Half-naked, with her hands crossed over her breasts, Draupadi cried and her wailing echoed in the hall.
“Dusshasana! I’m menstruating. Please don’t humiliate me by disrobing me.”
“Ha…Ha…Draupadi, Where is your honour? Don’t you know that you are not an honourable person at all?”
The wife of five men is known by a scandalous name. A prostitute! Don’t I know that?
The laughter and tumult of joy of the Kaurava’s arose and resounded in the Royal Court. Below the throne of the Great King Dhritarashtra, Bhishma, Vidura, and Dronacharya sat with their eyes closed.
Why don’t they react? After giving their consent to everything, they pretend that nothing untoward has happened!
People standing in the court looked at her with varied expressions. In each face bewilderment and fear flashed alternately. Draupadi, the wife of the Pandavas, the heroic woman, the daughter of the King of Panchala, the one who conquered the summit of scholarship, was blazing like a red flame in the melted ghee of the sacrificial offering!
“You do not understand the dignity and the glory of womanhood…you won’t become a man by merely learning the science of archery and the skill of fighting with the clubs. Those who don’t understand women are only eunuchs. What do you know about a woman? Milk will flow from her breasts; it’s Amruth; the nectar of gods, and is the cause of the very existence of the universe. Those who have sucked her milk can never do this kind of a heinous action. When the experimental infants grow up, they need not show the dignity of the family. Oh, Great Acharayas, Gurus,…Don’t you feel ashamed to gaze passively at this atrocious deed? Has blindness affected your eyes too?”
Duryodhana shouted in arrogance.
“Tell me, Panchali! Who are more manly, your five valiant archers or we who belong to the Kuru dynasty? Bravery and heroism is ours! Do you think, these cowards who stand here like eunuchs are heroes?”
When Duryodhana uttered these sarcastic words pointing his finger to them, the five Pandavas bowed their heads in shame. Sarcasm turned to anger instantly. The wrathful Duryodhana roared again.
“We should not allow her, this slave, to dart out the arrows of insolent words again. Dusshasana, my beloved younger brother, denude her!”
Draupadi stood enveloped in a flood of light spread suddenly from somewhere around, and the stormy wind of unabated fury blew into that great flame. There was no sorrow on her face when she looked at the courtiers most intensely. Instead, there flashed on her face the all-consuming ferocious expressions of her fury.
Draupadi stood trembling in the heat which could not be subsided by not even the hard blowing, gnashing wind. The fire of her sorrow had the power to burn up the courtyard. The blind King heard everything, knew everything, and sat there immobile and dispassionate in the midst. It was the heir apparent, Prince Duryodhana, who was doing every foul thing and steering every wicked deed. He was encouraging his younger brother to denude a woman!
Draupadi cried:
“Vasundara, Oh Goddess Earth! Don’t you see this? You have an unnecessary thought that you can forgive everything. But I’m the daughter of Drupad. I’m now ashamed of being called the wife of the five Pandavas. I hate to say that I’m the wife of those who are standing here abjectly, having lost their heroic luster and who stand in a servile manner.”
The sons of Pandu stood shrunk in humiliation at Draupadi’s fiery gaze. Only Dharmaputra, the eldest of the Pandava stood there quite unmoved and unemotional. The rest of them looked impatient and restless. They were standing on tottering legs eager to be liberated from the wretched captivity and subjugation.
“Does the great man of righteousness, the First Pandava, consider the stripping of his royal wife as right? Is it right for him to allow the court to enjoy the nudity of his wife? Do you think, my Lord, my husband, it is right to throw your half
partner into such a suicidal state of mind?”
Semen is liquor-like and menstruation is fire-like. The woman made impure by the menstruation blood is the flame of fire itself. She is also noble and respectable. She is the power incarnate ready to give new life by consuming fire. What is the relevance of semen in a woman who does not menstruate? New life sprouts only when there is mutual use and mutual merging!
How abominable it is to touch a woman who is having her seasonal changes of menstruating, and make her stand in the royal assembly and abuse her with vulgar words! How wretched it is for Duryodhana to command his brother to strip her of her robes, while her heroic husbands stand and watchlike dunces!
“Oh, Courtiers, Don’t you also have womenfolk in your home? Don’t you have a mother …a sister…a wife…a daughter?…Does anyone among the husbands here throw his own wife mercilessly into such humiliation? If he does so, is he worthy of being called a man? Does he deserve to be a husband? I’m a woman who is deserted by her husband. Parthan(Arjuna) who held my marital hand has torn my heart by sharing me among the five. Now, like a thunderbolt, I’m being tossed over as a slave. The Pandavas have other women as wives. Why weren’t they prepared for handing them over as slaves? Oh, my First Pandava, why didn’t you give them your wife Devaki Devi as a slave? Oh Arjuna!,Why couldn’t you give over your Subhadra? Why, me alone?”
Duryodhana, unheeding her words, callously, encouraged Dusshasana.
“Dusshasana! See such insolence for a slave? You need to undress her to shut her mouth. Um… Dusshasana! Be quick. I command you to put off her clothes.”
When Dusshasana was about to disrobe her…, Draupadi just cast a glance at the glorious idol of her mind in distress— Karna—the one who stood aloof with a wearied face. It seemed as though the ear-ornaments ceased to shake in abject forgetfulness. Her trembling lips murmured.
‘Radheya…Karna… Thou, too?’
Karna, the one who had the splendor of the sun, was crying. His tears trickled down his cheeks. His lips trembled as if making the plea, ‘Draupadi! Forgive me!’ In the high tide of the mental conflicts, the man’s hump on the neck was running up and down. Woman is forever being humiliated……by her husband and lover!
Draupadi felt that Karna’s tears were burning her with the scalding heat.
“Karna!….Aren’t you the King of the country Anga? You could also say…at least once…that it shouldn’t happen. But, then, why should Karna cry thinking of Panchali? Isn’t it because he is pained by his persisting love towards her?”
Karna stood helpless, his head hung. Why? In disgrace? For not being able to view the detestable scene?
When she knew for sure that Dusshasana would untie her sari, Draupadi had a shocking realization that she could not withstand it any more. Nobody was there to save her. Gurus and Acharyas stood lifeless, speechless with their eyes shut.
The Pandavas who had the right to save her were standing there rooted like soldiers as if it were not their problem. Now the only refuge is Lord Krishna who always appears dazzling in royal blue.
“Krishna…Govinda…the one who is compassionate to the grief-stricken…Madhava…Madusudana…If I’m disrobed in this court and humiliated, I won’t live for another second. Giving up my life is my only solution. Hear my grievance, Kanna! My heart breaks and bleeds incessantly and I can only cry out,
….Kanna…Kanna…please save me…save this frail and little life of mine. Please don’t make me put an end to my life, as I’m your devotee.”
In her conscious mind, Draupadi was being disrobed. But the clothes were not really removed from her body at all. When Krishna came rushing to save her, the whole court was mesmerized in his magical spell. Draupadi saw Krishna. She saw Karna, the son of Radha stretching his shawl in the right side and the dark-coloured Krishna, the husband of Radha, in the left side. Both offered her clothes. The Courtiers sat still like statues. Nobody saw anything. There was an apologetic mood in Radha’s son Karna and a secret smile on Radha’s husband Krishna. No one in the court was conscious. The Pandavas, who stood cowered, covering their eyes, looked like stone pillars. When Krishna put his outer garment on Draupadi’s shoulders, Karna who was stretching his shawl had no conscious sense at all. But he came near Draupadi and gave his shawl and returned to his own place, dazed. Draupadi looked at Krishna amazed. He was laughing.
Govinda, the enchanter! You put the whole court into sleep with your magical power. But, why? Why did you make me alone too sleepless? Wouldn’t I have fallen dead in this court! Does it mean that you won’t allow Parshadi your devotee to give up her life? Are you that much submissive and loyal to me? More loyal than my husbands? If so, how much do you love me! Govinda! If you hadn’t come, I would have been torn apart like a deer in the midst of a pack of wolves.
Even then, Govinda stood there laughing.
She had no idea how much time had passed. She was in a trance. When her conscious mind woke up Draupadi looked at her body. Seeing the outer garments of the dark-coloured Krishna and Karna lying close on her body, she was surprised. But Karna had his outer garment on his own body. Dusshasana who had toiled hard in pulling off her clothes was lying completely fatigued in the court-floor. He had no strength to stand up on his legs either. Even when Duryodhana tried to lift him up, he collapsed to the floor itself. Draupadi burst out stepping beyond the bounds of her wrath and dismay.
“Dusshasana! I won’t tolerate this. I can’t. I won’t forget your heinous crime till my death. You mean-minded, wicked fellow, you dared to disrobe the wife of the Pandavas! You dragged me in my menstrual condition from the inner chambers of the women in the palace. You have violated my womanhood. See… I, the daughter of Panchala, am taking a vow this moment. Dusshasana…I, Panchali, won’t tie up my hair until I have soaked it in the blood from your pierced chest … This I declare in absolute truth…and on my honour.”
The drums of the gods were sounded in the sky. The zones trembled. The big trees were uprooted in the hard blowing wind. The tumultuous state of the environment created a feeling of an impending flood.
“Dusshasana! I am Panchali, the daughter of Panchala! I was born to wreak vengeance among the sinners and punish them. I am telling you. I will wreak destruction to you and your friends too. The Kuru dynasty has fallen into the bottomless pit of damnation. Time will clean this stinking muddy pool. Sure, it will be cleansed.”
Panchali looked at the silent courtiers with her wearied eyes. Krishna had silenced the court who had been howling till a few moments back. His spell was astounding indeed! Hiding behind the huge pillar of the court, he created an illusion of giving a cloth to her from infinity. Regret and remorse had filled Karna’s eyes. He felt the same dejection he experienced when the young woman he desired for, became another person’s at the Swayamvara.
But if I had married Karna , I would never have undergone this kind of an ordeal and humiliation… I would have been the wife of the one and the only man, instead of getting disgraced as the wife of the five! Draupadi’s heart saddened when she thought of Karna. She thought, there was an indivisible similarity between Karna’s and her life. Both Karna and Draupadi were humiliated. Karna, during ‘the Panchali Swayamvara’ and Draupadi here in the poisonous fort of the wicked serpents! The charioteer Adhiratha’s adopted son, Karna! Panchala’s adopted daughter , Draupadi! Here the orphans whose parents are unknown are being humiliated and stigmatized. Draupadi, the wife of the Pandavas is no more alive …she is virtually dead in the royal court of Hastinapuri.
Those in the court started murmuring. They were blaming one another and arguing on the right and wrong of the situation. Looking with hatred at Dusshasana who was sitting on the floor, Draupadi spoke in a harsh voice.
“The ones who have the authority to say the right or the wrong sit powerless. As I have nobody, no one is here to speak for me and question this evil act. I’m Panchala King’s adopted daughter. But if it had been done to Subhadra…?”
Draupadi sobbed… When finally the sobs ended, she spoke. “No…They won’t allow this to happen. Subhadra has the invincible and gallant Krishna and Balarama as her brothers. They won’t remain idle if anybody insults or torments their sister. Brother Balarama will put the whole Kuru dynasty into
fire if anything untoward befalls his sister.”
When everyone nodded, Draupadi’s grief broke the barriers. Her grief turned into anger. Wasn’t cursing the ultimate form of anger! Draupadi looked at the great King Dhritarashtra with fire in her beautiful eyes.
“Oh, Great King! No King in any Royal Court will allow such an unfortunate incident to happen. No one who has the inner eye can remain still without reacting to the heart-rending cry of a helpless woman. But you could do that.”
Draupadi’s face shone in the fire of wrath.
“If it is true that I’ve risen out of the sacrificial fire, if it is true that I’m born in the ghee of the subsiding fire, your sons for their heinous crime, and your country and subjects for being the silent witnesses, are going to be burned in the fire of my curse.”
Breaking all the bounds of grief, Panchali spoke in broken, stammering notes.
“Oh, Great King! I’m not a relative to you. Not a daughter, not a daughter-in-law, not even a sister. This is not my country for me to have the sense of belonging to leave it unaccursed. I’m a woman with flesh and blood, and with prudence and feelings, and I was staked by my inconsiderate and thoughtless husbands. Let those who have lost their country because of their actions, mortgage themselves. Isn’t it the right course? Do they have the right to pawn another person when they themselves have lost everything? When you allowed your sons to display a woman’s nakedness, you have sown the seeds of your country’s destruction. What you sow, you reap, Oh King! Here, see, this daughter of Panchala standing half-naked in Hastinapuri royal court is pronouncing the curse in bitter agony…”
Dhritarashtra, startled, jumped up on hearing the word ‘curse’.
“No… Daughter…please don’t curse… please…” “Daughter? Whose daughter?”
Draupadi asked in contempt. Then she said slowly.
“You have only one daughter, O King, Dusshala!”
Dhritarashtra suddenly relented when he knew that she would curse his sons.
“Forgive me, for the sins of my sons. As you were brought to this disgrace, I will give you a boon. What boon do you need? Draupadi, dear! Ask without any reluctance. You can ask for anything.”
And Draupadi did indeed, make her demands.
While the Pandavas were enjoying the freedom which was got through Draupadi’s kindness, she was lying like a withered stem of the lotus in her maid’s hands. She was completely wearied and was taken to the inner chambers of the palace. All the hopes being alienated from her, she lay in the bed room of Mother Gandhari, in the darkness of the narrow caves of thoughts, in utmost anxiety about the gloomy and dismal future, completely blank and devoid of her dreams.
(Cont’d)
