104.
The Passing Away Of The Three
WHEN Yudhishthira at last gave
his consent for Dhritarashtra's retirement to the forest, Dhritarashtra and
Gandhari went back to their residence and broke their fast.
Kunti sat with Gandhari and they
ate together. Dhritarashtra asked Yudhishthira to sit by him and gave him his
last blessings.
Then the old man stepped out and,
with his hand resting on Gandhari's shoulder, slowly walked out of the city on
his journey to the forest.
Gandhari, who, because her lord
and husband was blind, gave up the use of her eyes and wrapped her face with a
cloth all her life, placed her hand on Kunti's shoulder and slowly walked
along, thus guided.
Kunti had decided in her mind to
go with Gandhari to the forest. As she walked on, she was speaking to
Yudhishthira: "Son, do not ever let your speech be angry when you speak to
Sahadeva. Remember with love Karna who died a hero's death on the battlefield. He
was my son, but I committed the crime of not disclosing it to you. Look after
Draupadi with unfailing tenderness. Do not ever give cause for grief to Bhima,
Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva. Keep this ever in mind, son. The burden of the
family is now wholly on you."
Dharmaputra had till then
believed that Kunti was accompanying Gandhari only for a distance to say
goodbye. When he heard her speak thus, he was taken aback and was speechless
for a few minutes.
When he recovered from the shock
he said: "Mother, not thus! You blessed us and sent us to battle. It is
not right you should now desert us and go to the forest."
Yudhishthira's entreaties were
however of no avail. Kunti held to her purpose.
"I must join my lord and
husband wherever he be now. I shall be with Gandhari and go through the
discipline of forest life and soon join your father. Go back unagitated. Return
to the city. May your mind ever stand steady on dharma." Thus did Kunti
bless her illustrious son and depart.
Yudhishthira stood speechless. Kunti
went on her way, looking back occasionally at him and her other sons.
Each with hand on the shoulder of
the other, this picture of the three elders of the tribe wending their way to
the forest, leaving their sons behind, is painted by the poet so vividly that
it fills the reader with solemn grief, as if the parting happened in his own
family now.
Dhritarashtra, Gandhari and Kunti
spent three years in the forest. Sanjaya was with them. When one day,
Dhritarashtra finished his ablutions and returned to their hermitage, the
forest had caught fire.
The wind blew and the flames
spread everywhere. The deer and the wild boars ran in herds hither and thither,
and rushed madly to the pools.
Dhritarashtra told Sanjaya:
"This fire will envelop us all. You had better save yourself."
Saying this, the blind old king,
Gandhari with her eves blindfolded and Kunti sat down on the ground, the three
of them, facing eastwards in yoga posture and calmly gave themselves up to the
flames.
Sanjaya, who had been to the
blind king, throughout all his days, his only light and was dear to him like
life itself, spent the rest of his days in the Himalayas as a sanyasin.