The Unfallen Pandava is an imaginary autobiography of Yudhishthira, attempting to follow the well-known story of the Mahabharata through his eyes.

Given here is the first chapter from this book.

1

Two Women, Two Hurts

‘Come out, Mother! Come and have a look at our today’s collection!’ That deafening shout of Bheema still resonates in my ears.

‘Don’t shout so loudly, Bheema! Whatever be it, divide it equally among all of you,’ pat came the most obvious reply from Mother Kunti, who was as usual busy with her seemingly never-ending household chores and did not even bother to check what Bheema had to show.

Bheema’s dreadful sense of humour had put us in awkward situations countless times before. Once he had spooked Duryodhana so convincingly on a rainy night that our poor cousin slipped into a serious delirium. It was not a new thing. But new, rather bizarre, was the nature of the embarrassment we found staring at us in the wake of Bheema’s wisecrack. Equally distributing a woman among five brothers!

Bheema’s inappropriate action was typical of him as he was often oblivious of time, place and surroundings. But how could our mother have been so irresponsible? How could she have failed to detect the unique excitement in his voice, markedly different from a matter-of-fact announcement of an ordinary day’s earning?

All my brothers stood completely crestfallen. I could not see my own face, nor could I see Draupadi’s as her head was lowered and partly covered with the drooping veil. I consider myself fortunate that I was spared the embarrassment of watching a woman’s reaction on being sentenced to be given to five men, in an apparent travesty of the sacred institution of marriage. Numb with a mortal guilt feeling, Kunti was simply unable to forgive herself. She was well aware of the fact that anything coming out of her mouth was destiny to her sons. Perhaps for the first time ever, Kunti wished she had not been taken so seriously. She helplessly looked up to me to find a way out—as she always did while in crisis. I cleared my throat first. My reply was poised enough, at least it sounded so. I looked at Arjuna and told him, ‘You have won her Arjuna. She is rightfully yours.’

Undoubtedly she was. But unfortunately, my mighty brother was much less brave off a battleground than on it. Arjuna declined to go against our mother’s words which he, and all of us, had construed as her wish.

Arjuna’s refusal was like a relief to me though I was smart enough not to show it. But I foolishly rattled out my next suggestion with almost an immediate readiness which should have been delayed: ‘Then. . .okay. . .then she would have to get married to all of us as our mother wished. . .I mean. . . said!’

My voice sounded awkwardly content. My haste was too brazen to be confused with my general penchant for crisis management. Instead, it exposed my longing for the woman.

That was the mistake of my life. I still rue it, day in and day out. Draupadi’s head jerked up hearing my suggestion, making her veil slip. Her massive, lotus eyes silently lashed across my face. I could distinctly see hatred, scorn and sarcasm in her eyes. I never knew that a woman could devastate a man only by casting her fervent glances. I immediately lowered my face and wetted my dried up lips. I knew since that moment I had secured in her heart at least one thing for me, which was nothing but disdain.  Mother, had you just chosen your words carefully that day, I might not have ended up with one-fifth of a woman who was actually in love with only Arjuna, my younger brother! Mother, what made you hand me over such a brutal sentence? Arjuna’s face had assumed the pallor of ash as his prize was to be shared! He was trying to wrestle his indifference back on his face. I really felt sorry for him for a passing moment. Later I would learn to feel sorry for myself, with wisdom gradually dawning on me! Arjuna’s loyalty, however, was always a little suspect. He would move on and take other wives besides a ‘common’ Draupadi with princely nonchalance. Though we all took other wives, we could not exactly move on the way he could. The much-married Arjuna was too slippery for any woman to hold on to. In a way, he unknowingly took revenge on Draupadi on my behalf, but that is something I should not thank him for. Perhaps poor Arjuna deliberately tried to force his mind away from Draupadi to make way for us! Perhaps it was an act of generosity on his part, who knows?

I dared not give a second look at Draupadi’s face at that decisive moment, lest she read my mind inside out. But she could. She saw through my articulated detachment to discover my burning desire for her. But it was unwise of her to hold me solely responsible for dismissing an ordinary alliance with Arjuna. Vyasadeva’s sudden arrival at the spot and his zealous advocacy for the fiveto- one alliance won approval of even Drupada and Dhrishtadyumna (her father and twin brother respectively) to clinch the debate. But I knew she never pardoned me.

We five brothers would wait for our turns to spend time with her, but it seemed my wait never ended. Even when Draupadi was with me, I felt deep in my heart that she had not come to me actually. I wanted to ask her a question, ‘You had love for Arjuna, admiration for Bheema and affection for the twins. What did you have for me, Draupadi?’ I knew it was not easy for her to answer. One day I was desperate to ask her that. There was no one around. I suddenly grabbed her by the left arm and pulled her into our armoury. She was extremely surprised to find me in an absolutely different mood. I locked the door of the room from inside and walked towards her—not to make love but to get a clear, bold answer from her! She was feeling uncomfortable, if not scared. It was giving me an impish pleasure to see her unsettled in front of me. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Two Women, Two Hurts | 17 Who could be that bloody spoilsport? Angry, I flung open the door.

It was Arjuna! He had to enter our room to take weapons for helping some poor Brahmins whose cattle had been taken away by some dacoits. We had stipulated separate times for five brothers to have Draupadi’s exclusive company. It had been agreed upon that while one brother would spend time with Draupadi, others were not to invade their privacy under any circumstance. Anybody failing to observe the rule was to be punished—and the punishment was as harsh as an exile for twelve years! I knew Arjuna had no intention to disturb us and he bravely put the ideology of a true Kshatriya above any fear of punishment. Moreover, it was my mistake to choose a place like the weapon room for private talks. I was genuinely ready to forgive him, but the righteous Arjuna was too adamant to accept my clemency and imposed the exile on himself. He was away from Draupadi and us for twelve long years. By some sinister design of fate, Draupadi found her most beloved man standing last in the long queue, courtesy a certain Yudhisthira. If I were Draupadi, I would have killed Yudhisthira by poisoning his food.

Worse, while she was suffering the estrangement like hell, her beloved was busy making the best use of the ‘vacation’ by roping in some magnificent women like Ulupi, Chitrangada and Subhadra oneby one in a debonair philandering spree. Draupadi’s tragedy was unimaginable.

That question remained unasked. I cannot tell how my other four brothers felt about this marriage; but for me it was something like being fastened to a burning pyre that scorched me throughout my life, disallowing me even the liberty to free myself into death. I suspect that the marriage was not as difficult for them.

I heard many say, including the venerable Vyasadeva, that Draupadi’s union with all five brothers ensured our unity. Unity! How strange the word sounds now! Ironically, Draupadi kept us united in the sense that we five brothers were not only made to stay, live and fight together; we were also made to love a single woman together! She actually kept us occupied to feign a unity. I can still remember how I once heard Bheema heave a noisy sigh while Nakula shut the door of his room with Draupadi inside. I did not fail to notice how Nakula once cast a bitter, sidelong glance at Sahadeva and Draupadi who were seated close to each other and talking in whispers. During our ‘aggyatvaas’ (exile in disguise) at Matsya, the relation between Bheema and Arjuna turned sour almost unnoticeably; the reason being Draupadi’s clear tilt towards Bheema in those days—as I presumed. And, how can I ever forget what Arjuna told me in a furious outburst— ‘Don’t you criticise my fighting skills lying on Draupadi’s bed!’ Though he apologised later, his words left uncurable gashes on me. When Draupadi would fire her salvos at me, none of my brothers, not even my Sahadeva, ever stood by me or uttered a single word in my support! I sometimes believed that they probably enjoyed my humiliation.

Nevertheless, we were very much together. The woman could not rupture our family, despite such undercurrents. Because, besides being fearsome warriors, we were more than accomplished actors too! We bled surreptitiously all along; still managed to keep our bruises perfectly screened from the world. Not even a single breath of ours ever carried the message to air.

Who said that the war of Kurukshetra was the greatest war fought by us?