Yajnaseni: The Story of Draupadi Read online

  Krishna and Krishnaa! A heavenly, pure, sweet stream of love drenched my heart. My eyes brimmed over. But who was this greatest of all men, Krishna? I did not know.

  3

  Nitambini was my favourite sakhi. That day I was enjoying the evening breeze in the garden. In private I asked her, "Who is Krishna?"

  Sakhi glanced at me out of the comer of her eyes and pursing her lips giggled, "What business has Krishnaa with Krishna?"

  I burst out laughing, "I have heard from Father that everyone has some need of Krishna — not just Krishnaa."

  "Krishnaa might have some special need?" Even now Nitambini was smiling mischievously.

  In a calm voice I said, "I have heard that for some special purpose Krishna has incarnated on earth."

  Touching my chin Nitambini said, "Sakhi! Forget Krishna!"

  "Why?" I asked in bewilderment.

  "Yes, listen to me. It is true that he has wisdom and nobility. He is far-seeing, a master of politics, powerful and heroic in action. He is attractive as the lotus in bloom and as pure. He fulfils the prayer of the oppressed, reciprocates affection. If he accepts with one hand, he gifts with a thousand. His heart is vast, noble. He is incomparably heroic, the best of men, yet....

  "Yet?" I asked in surprise.

  "...yes. He is a libertine. He is in love with sixteen thousand gopis. He is so adept in winning the female heart that on hearing his enchanting flute women would rush to meet him on the banks of Yamuna. Of course, this was when he was in his teens, and now he is the ruler of Dvaraka, wise in dharma."

  He was the receptacle of the finest qualities - it was but natural for them to go mad about him, become oblivious of husband, family and the world. Why sixteen thousand, if hundreds of thousands of women went mad about him, how was it his fault? How I wished I could see this finest of men just once! What did he look like? If I asked Nitambini she would mock me. She would gossip about it with the other sakhis, grossly exaggerating it. Then they would tease me unmercifully — I went on thinking in this way. And then, giving it a different tack, I asked, "Do you know of Krishna's ancestry?"

  Nitambini burst out laughing, "Family and ancestry are looked into by parents. The woman regards the appearance. If you hear about Krishna's appearance, you will lose your senses. You will say, 'Without Krishna life is meaningless; fetch me Krishna at once or I will die!' Tell me, then-what shall I do?"

  I was lost in a dream — Krishna's form! That vision was my constant companion. At that age who did not indulge in fantasy? How much joy there was in imagination! Every fancy of everyone does not come true. Yet, who can live fancy-free?

  I was lost in visions of Krishna.

  Both of us sakhis were seated under the creeper-covered dark tamal grove. The colour of the setting sun tinted the blue of the sky and dyed my feet with aaltaa. Blue lilies bloomed in the crystal waters of the pool. In the evening sky scattered clouds obstructed the moon, playing with blue lilies. Noticing the clouds in the sky, my pet peacock spread its tail, preparing to dance.

  Nitambini continued praising Krishna's beauty. My heart was dancing, keeping time with the peacock.

  I was musing: "What is Krishna like? Perhaps like the blue tamal tree or like the blue-black clouds? His eyes are like blue lilies. Like the resplendent sapphire blue of peacock feathers is his hair. And his lips will be curved, lovely like agastya flowers. Hands and feet like lotus buds, chest broad like the blue sky: his voice like the cuckoo's spring call: the fragrance of his body like henna and his form darkly tender yet tall as the champak tree..."

  Entranced, I was listening to Nitambini's description.

  She too was watching me out of the corner of her eye. After pausing for a while she talked on — about the honeyed embrace of Krishna and the intoxication of loving Krishna....

  Like one drunk, I lay down in Nitambini's lap. My whole body was throbbing. My heart was aching with a peculiar surge of emotion. This feeling I had never had before. What was it? Why did it occur?

  Nitambini was whispering into my ear, "Love of Krishna! This is its sign. O Lord! What shall I do now?"

  She laid me down under the creepers in the grove and stepped towards the pool to bring water to bring me to my senses. I had not lost consciousness, for I could understand everything. But I was moving in some dream world. Wherever I looked I saw Krishna.... blue.... Krishna.... blue ... the whole world full of Krishna ... full of love ... honeyed. Krishna pervading the world!

  Before Nitambini could bring some water, a few drops of water fell from the blue clouds. On my throbbing body drops fell from the Krishna-dark tamal tree. Thrill over thrill! My peacock was fanning my face with its tail. Slowly I collected myself and tried to sit up. I was lost in shame. Chheeh! what would sakhi be thinking? By the time sakhi arrived with water, I had covered my face in shame. Along with water she had plucked two lilies. "Alas! Why did you pluck the flowers? All night long the blue lilies would have laughed drinking the moonshine. Nitambini, you are heartless!" But she was sprinkling water on my face. I remained as I was, not being able to say anything — on the one hand was shame and on the other regret that sakhi had plucked the lilies!

  Slowly she began to stroke my face with the lily petals and whispered in my ears, "I know without the reviving touch of Krishna this illness cannot be cured. But where will I find the Dvaraka-dweller? So, taking Krishna's name, I keep these two blue lilies on your heart. Let that revive you and help you sit up. Otherwise your father will send for the royal physician. Nilan-jana has gone to him with the news. What shall I tell the king about the ailment?"

  Saying this, Nitambini placed the two flowers on my breast. I embraced them fondly, "Aah! Why did you pluck them?" Carefully I sat up, collecting myself.

  Nervously Nitambini exclaimed, "The king has arrived. Someone is following him."

  I understood that all this was Nilanjana's doing. Hearing about my condition, Father had arrived with the royal physician. Father could not bear to see me ill. Now what could I tell him? That I had fallen unconscious listening to Krishna being described? If Nitambini blurted this out, how would I lift up my head to face Father?

  I was paralysed with shame and was getting angry with Nilan-jana. Where was the need to report such a trifling matter? As it was, I detested medicine. Moreover, I was afraid of the royal physician.

  Father was saying affectionately, "When the cure of all diseases, Krishna himself, is present, why should I bring along the royal physician? Do not be afraid, Daughter!"

  The scent of henna flowers filled the whole garden. A gust of breeze came and some tamal flowers fell on me. Blown by it, a peacock feather fell by my side. The thrill was limitless, indescribable. How was all this happening! My pet peacock had left the garden long before.

  Father's loving voice was saying, "Take Krishna's blessings, Daughter! His presence here is an indication that you are supremely fortunate."

  In case I fainted again touching the peacock feather, I did not pick it up. Nitambini had understood my state of mind. Carefully she picked it up and said, "I shall keep it with your poems." — Chheeh! Nitambini did not have the slightest idea of propriety. That I wrote poetry — was this something to mention in Krishna's presence? What would he say when he heard of my writing poetry — the very dust of whose feet permeated the whole world with poetry? And Father was also standing there!

  Father continued, "Will you not touch Krishna's feet, Daughter? He has just arrived from Dvaraka. Hearing of your illness, he has come along to the garden."

  Both the fresh lilies were still in my hands. Just by the side of Father's feet were two feet like blue lotuses. Even the greatest poet of the world would not be able to describe those feet. I did not know what enchantment lay in them. I placed the lilies on those feet. My tears fell on them.

  It was only those feet that I saw at our first encounter. He returned to the palace with Father. Till he passed beyond sight I remained frozen just like that. Nitambini shook me and exclaimed, "What have you done! Gave
to Krishna in offering those very blue lilies kept on your breast! What will you do now?"

  Helplessly I said, "Yes, what shall I do now?"

  All night I was lost in those feet. I did not know how many poems I wrote. Still the heart was not satisfied. I thought if I was unable to describe his feet, how would my poetry ever describe his face, eyes, lips? And if I could not do so, what was the use of poetry?

  There is poetry in the heart of every human being. Some pour it out in writing, others do not. I wrote down whatever came to mind in the form of poetry. Father had made arrangements for my education. Both my tutor and my father said that I was scholarly, knowledge-hungry. Quickly I mastered many branches of knowledge. I became an expert in mathematics, music, painting, cookery, flower-arrangement, hospitality and other matters. But writing poetry was an obsession which I went on learning by myself. Father did not know anything about this.

  Quite often discussions on various scriptures took place at our place. Poetry also had its turn. Many scholars, poets, wise men used to be invited. These discussions were organised for my sake. Father knew that my interest lay more in these rather than in singing and dancing. At these discussions, my queries were resolved. Attempts were made to quench my thirst for knowledge. But this thirst was limitless.

  Once I was listening to Vedvyas Krishna Dvaipayan and agitatedly asked him, "If this life is not long enough to acquire the knowledge of all the books and sciences of the world, then what should man do?"

  Vedvyas laughed and said, "It would have been better if your name had been Trishnaa [thirst] instead of Krishnaa. Daughter, thirst gives pain, but the thirst for knowledge is full of bliss. It is not quenched in a thousand births, let alone one birth. Thirst is quenched by drinking water. But on drinking knowledge, the thirst for knowledge becomes yet stronger. Once this thirst is quenched the road to knowledge is blocked. The life that ends while gathering multicoloured shells of knowledge from the shores of eternal time — that is a meaningful life."

  Delighted I asked, "I have finished all the books given by my tutors. Now what book should I read?"

  Vedvyas smiled and said, "Is there any paucity of books of knowledge? This vast cosmos is a library. From each atom and molecule to every planet and star, all are books of His creation. Its pages are the experiences of every moment linked to this earth's dust particles. Therefore, every experience of life is a subject for study. Innumerable scholars, poets, sages, seers, wise men have not been able to unveil the mystery of life. Daughter, what is the need for any more books? Study life. Substantiate the nobility of life. God has created each of us for a particular purpose. Many incidents of your life are waiting for you — they will be your life's supreme study. Go, prepare yourself for them and prove your worth.

  Prophetic seer Vedvyas! He described my future indisputably. I began to spin many fantasies and found satisfaction in giving them poetic form.

  But the experience of that day! How could I give it utterance? It is indelibly imprinted on my heart. What pen will be able to translate it into language? The rhythm of each line is unique — absolutely its very own.

  4

  The sun had not yet risen. Some sweet sound broke my sleep. Carefully I listened and heard someone repeating at the door of my bedroom "Krishna! Krishna!" Who was calling in such a sweet voice so early in the morning? I continued to listen.

  Krishna.... Krishna.... Krishna — someone was murmuring the name at the door of my heart. Was it rising out of my own heart or was someone reciting it on the other side of the shut door? Perhaps both were true. I opened the door. The courtyard of my palace was strewn with red. This dawn was quite distinct from other dawns. There was something special in it. But who was it that was singing Krishna's name?

  Krishna.... Krishna.... Krishna — the sweet voice was floating towards me from a gilded cage. My favourite blackbird 'Nilmani' was repeating Krishna's name. The night before, Nitambini had been narrating stories about Krishna's birth, the miraculous feats of his childhood, the adolescent romance with the gopis and Radha's love, then in youth the abduction of Rukmini.... she had gone on recounting many other incidents. The more she criticised Krishna's faults, the more I found my respect for him increasing. I kept thinking: he could become the favourite of all Gokul at the age of twelve, so what if he was beloved of the gopis? Were the gopis distinct from the inhabitants of Gokul? Although besides Rukmini and Satyabhama he had many other wives in Dvaraka, he married them solely to protect dharma, for preserving the honour of women. Krishna who was more radiant than the blue sapphire could never be soiled. If Krishna, who was world-enchanter, turned heart-stealer, then what was the harm?

  Nilmani had overheard my talk last night. The bird had started reciting Krishna's name right from early dawn as though its chirping were echoing the feelings of Krishnaa's heart.

  Opening the gilded cage I petted Nilmani and said more softly than its own voice, "Nilmani!." And it replied, "Krishna. Krishna!" Again I called, "Nilmani!" It repeated, "Krishna. Krishna!" Again I called, "Nilmani!" It repeated, "Krishna. Krishna!"

  As often as I called it would respond with Krishna's name. As if by uttering "Krishna" Nilmani was returning the love I was displaying. I wondered how Nilmani had managed to understand that it was the name of Krishna which was giving me the greatest pleasure.

  I showed some mock annoyance, "Nilmani, stop this!"

  Teasing me it said, "Krishna! Krishna! Krishna! Krishna!"

  "Nilmani, Nilmani!" "Krishna!...Krishna!"

  "Oh Nilmani! You'll drive me mad!"

  I heard laughter — Nilmani was laughing! Behind me sakhi Nitambini had arrived and touching my unbound hair she said, "Reciting Krishna's name from the very morning! The entire day is still left."

  Startled, I turned around and said in annoyance, "Not me, it is this bird Nilmani who is reciting his name! I was just rebuking it."

  Nitambini swayed her hips exaggeratedly before me and shaking her head said, "Oh yes — yes, your heart's treasured blue sapphire is truly Krishna; Krishna who is like a blue sapphire. It is Krishna who is lovingly called Nilmani. And you, right from the moment of awakening, are going on reciting 'Nilmani! Nilmani'."

  Ashamed I bit my tongue and muttered, "Chheeh! How would I know! My pet bird is named Nilmani, so what can I do?"

  "It is you who have named the bird", retorted Nitambini with her eyes dancing. Defeated, I said, "Yes, it is I who named it. But I do not know why I liked the name Nilmani. The day my bird's christening was celebrated, the court poet had brought a long list of names among which this name sounded best to my ears."

  "That is how it happens, my princess! Otherwise with so many names available why would your name be Krishnaa? How sweet does 'Nilmani' sound on your lips!"

  Shutting Nitambini up I said, "Really! Is today the first day when you are hearing it? I call 'Nilmani' day in and day out."

  Apologetically Nitambini said, "It is not new for me to hear you call 'Nilmani', but it is new for the special guest resting in the guest-chambers. Will it be all right to disturb his sleep?"

  Irritated, I asked, "Who are you talking about? Why should I disturb anyone's rest?"

  Nitambini's eyes were dancing with naughtiness. She said, "This loving repetition of 'Nilmani' by you and the bird's calling out 'Krishna...Krishna' is resounding through the guest-chambers. The real Nilmani — poor thing — is getting restless like a bee maddened by the fragrance of flowers. He cannot understand who is calling him with such love. Really, Princess, there is no difference between Nilmani's voice and yours. As I was coming, Krishna asked me, 'Whose voice is this?' I replied, 'It is the voice of our princess.' He laughed. Truly, Princess, that laugh! Lucky, you did not see that laugh. It thrilled me all over."

  "What would Krishna be thinking!" I wondered in embarrassment and said, "I was only calling my pet bird. You could have told him."

  Nitambini smiled and said, "I replied to just what he asked. How could I say more to such a great person?"

  S
oftly I enquired, "Did Krishna ask anything else?"

  "Yes. He said, 'Doesn't the princess sleep at night? The sun is not yet up and she has started calling Nilmani-Nilmani! Not the slightest hint of lassitude in the voice. It is extremely sweet."

  I wanted to rebuke Nitambini but a dream-like illusion was enveloping me within and a peculiar happiness was filling my being.

  Nitambini said, "I have not finished. How will it do if you lose your senses from now itself?"

  I roused myself. Nitambini pursed her lips and continued, "'It is a matter of happiness that your princess remembers me. Convey my thanks to her'."

  I was dying of embarrassment. What a predicament this Nilmani bird had thrown me into! How would I face Krishna ever again? Angrily I opened the gilded cage and let Nilmani fly away. I said, "Go, go away. You are now free. So am I!" Nilmani went hopping to the balcony. I expected that as in the past it would fly back to the cage after some time. But after a while it flew far away calling out, "Krishna. Krishna" and became a dot merging into the blue sky. It seemed that Nilmani had not understood my mock annoyance and left me for the forest. Now how would I pass the day without Nilmani? Who would beguile me by murmuring in my ears my heart's secrets?

  Nitambini understood my dilemma. Softly she said, "Princess, do not worry. He who is named Nilmani never betrays your trust. To tease you it has flown away or has found a companion. Once a mate is found there is no attraction left for the gilded cage just as thoughts of the beloved drive away sleep even on a begemmed bed. Princess, you did not sleep the whole night. Your eyes are still heavy, lost in dreams. If one does not sleep properly, one dreams while awake." Nitambini was smiling wickedly with her sari-end between her teeth.

  With what cunning had Nitambini changed the level of the discussion! But that day her wit did not please me. I was brooding over Nilmani.