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The Mahabharata of Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 1 by or: Kisari Mohan Ganguli

o >> or: Kisari Mohan Ganguli >> The Mahabharata of Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 1






SECTION CLX

(Vaka-vadha Parva continued)

"Vaisampayana said, "On hearing these words of the Brahmana, his wife
said, 'Thou shouldst not, O Brahmana, grieve like an ordinary man. Nor is
this the time for mourning. Thou hast learning; thou knowest that all men
are sure to die; none should grieve for that which is inevitable. Wife,
son, and daughter, all these are sought for one's own self. As thou art
possessed of a good understanding, kill thou thy sorrows. I will myself
go there. This indeed, is the highest and the eternal duty of a woman,
viz., that by sacrificing her life she should seek the good of her
husband. Such an act done by me will make thee happy, and bring me fame
in this world and eternal bliss hereafter. This, indeed, is the highest
virtue that I tell thee, and thou mayest, by this, acquire both virtue
and happiness. The object for which one desireth a wife hath already been
achieved by thee through me. I have borne thee a daughter and a son and
thus been freed from the debt I had owed thee. Thou art well able to
support and cherish the children, but I however, can never support and
cherish them like thee. Thou art my life, wealth, and lord; bereft of
thee, how shall these children of tender years--how also shall I myself,
exist? Widowed and masterless, with two children depending on me, how
shall I, without thee, keep alive the pair, myself leading an honest
life? If the daughter of thine is solicited (in marriage) by persons
dishonourable and vain and unworthy of contracting an alliance with thee,
how shall I be able to protect the girl? Indeed, as birds seek with
avidity for meat that hath been thrown away on the ground, so do men
solicit a woman that hath lost her husband. O best of Brahmanas,
solicited by wicked men, I may waver and may not be able to continue in
the path that is desired by all honest men. How shall I be able to place
this sole daughter of thy house--this innocent girl--in the way along
which her ancestors have always walked? How shall I then be able to
impart unto this child every desirable accomplishment to make him
virtuous as thyself, in that season of want when I shall become
masterless? Overpowering myself who shall be masterless, unworthy persons
will demand (the hand of) this daughter of thine, like Sudras desiring to
hear the Vedas. And if I bestow not upon them this girl possessing thy
blood and qualities, they may even take her away by force, like crows
carrying away the sacrificial butter. And beholding thy son become so
unlike to thee, and thy daughter placed under the control of some
unworthy persons, I shall be despised in the world by even persons that
are dishonourable, and I will certainly die. These children also, bereft
of me and thee, their father, will, I doubt not, perish like fish when
the water drieth up. There is no doubt that bereft of thee the three will
perish: therefore it behoveth thee to sacrifice me. O Brahmana, persons
conversant with morals have said that for women that have borne children,
to predecease their lords is an act of the highest merit. Ready am I to
abandon this son and this daughter, these my relations, and life itself,
for thee. For a woman to be ever employed in doing agreeable offices to
her lord is a higher duty than sacrifices, asceticism, vows, and
charities of every description. The act, therefore, which I intend to
perform is consonant with the highest virtue and is for thy good and that
of thy race. The wise have declared that children and relatives and wife
and all things held dear are cherished for the purpose of liberating
one's self from danger and distress. One must guard one's wealth for
freeing one's self from danger, and it is by his wealth that he should
cherish and protect his wife. But he must protect his own self both by
(means of) his wife and his wealth. The learned have enunciated the truth
that one's wife, son, wealth, and house, are acquired with the intention
of providing against accidents, foreseen or unforeseen. The wise have
also said that all one's relations weighed against one's own self would
not be equal unto one's self. Therefore, revered sir, protect thy own
self by abandoning me. O, give me leave to sacrifice myself, and cherish
thou my children. Those that are conversant with the morals have, in
their treatises, said, that women should never be slaughtered and that
Rakshasas are not ignorant of the rules of morality. Therefore, while it
is certain that the Rakshasa will kill a man, it is doubtful whether he
will kill a woman. It behoveth thee, therefore, being conversant with the
rules of morality, to place me before the Rakshasa. I have enjoyed much
happiness, have obtained much that is agreeable to me, and have also
acquired great religious merit. I have also obtained from thee children
that are so dear to me. Therefore, it grieveth not me to die. I have
borne thee children and have also grown old; I am ever desirous of doing
good to thee; remembering all these I have come to this resolution. O
revered sir, abandoning me thou mayest obtain another wife. By her thou
mayest again acquire religious merit. There is no sin in this. For a man
polygamy is an act of merit, but for a woman it is very sinful to betake
herself to a second husband after the first. Considering all this, and
remembering too that sacrifice of thy own self is censurable, O, liberate
today without loss of time thy own self, thy race, and these thy children
(by abandoning me).'

"Vaisampayana continued, 'Thus addressed by her, O Bharata, the Brahmana
embraced her, and they both began to weep in silence, afflicted with
grief.'"



SECTION CLXI

(Vaka-vadha Parva continued)

"Vaisampayana said, 'On hearing these words of her afflicted parents, the
daughter was filled with grief, and she addressed them, saying, 'Why are
you so afflicted and why do you so weep, as if you have none to look
after you? O, listen to me and do what may be proper. There is little
doubt that you are bound in duty to abandon me at a certain time. Sure to
abandon me once, O, abandon me now and save every thing at the expense of
me alone. Men desire to have children, thinking that children would save
them (in this world as well as in the region hereafter). O, cross the
stream of your difficulties by means of my poor self, as if I were a
raft. A child rescueth his parents in this and the other regions;
therefore is the child called by the learned Putra (rescuer). The
ancestors desire daughter's sons from me (as a special means of
salvation). But (without waiting for my children) I myself will rescue
them by protecting the life of my father. This my brother is of tender
years, so there is little doubt that he will perish if thou diest now. If
thou, my father, diest and my brother followeth thee, the funeral cake of
the Pitris will be suspended and they will be greatly injured. Left
behind by my father and brother, and by my mother also (for she will not
survive her husband and son) I shall be plunged deeper and deeper in woe
and ultimately perish in great distress. There can be little doubt that
if thou escape from this danger as also my mother and infant brother,
then thy race and the (ancestral) cake will be perpetuated. The son is
one's own self; the wife is one's friend; the daughter, however, is the
source of trouble. Do thou save thyself, therefore, by removing that
source of trouble, and do thou thereby set me in the path of virtue. As I
am a girl, O father, destitute of thee, I shall be helpless and plunged
in woe, and shall have to go everywhere. It is therefore that I am
resolved to rescue my father's race and share the merit of that act by
accomplishing this difficult task. If thou, O best of Brahmanas, goest
thither (unto the Rakshasa), leaving me here, then I shall be very much
pained. Therefore, O father, be kind to me. O thou best of men, for our
sake, for that of virtue and also thy race, save thyself, abandoning me,
whom at one time thou shall be constrained to part from. There need be no
delay, O father, in doing that which is inevitable. What can be more
painful than that, when thou hast ascended to heaven, we shall have to go
about begging our food, like dogs, from strangers. But if thou art
rescued with thy relations from these difficulties, I shall then live
happily in the region of the celestials. It hath been heard by us that if
after bestowing thy daughter in this way, thou offerest oblations to the
gods and the celestials, they will certainly be propitious.'

"Vaisampayana continued, 'The Brahmana and his wife, hearing these
various lamentations of their daughter, became sadder than before and the
three began to weep together. Their son, then, of tender years, beholding
them and their daughter thus weeping together, lisped these words in a
sweet tone, his eyes having dilated with delight, 'Weep not, O father,
nor thou, O mother, nor thou O sister!' And smilingly did the child
approach each of them, and at last taking up a blade of grass said in
glee, 'With this will I slay the Rakshasa who eateth human beings!'
Although all of them had been plunged in woe, yet hearing what the child
lisped so sweetly, joy appeared on their faces. Then Kunti thinking that
to be the proper opportunity, approached the group and said these words.
Indeed, her words revived them as nectar reviveth a person that is dead.'"



SECTION CLXII

(Vaka-vadha Parva continued)

'Kunti said, 'I desire to learn from you the cause of this grief, for I
will remove it, if possible.'

"The Brahmana replied, 'O thou of ascetic wealth, thy speech is, indeed
worthy of thee. But this grief is incapable of being removed by any human
being. Not far from this town, there liveth a Rakshasa of the name of
Vaka, which cannibal is the lord of this country and town. Thriving on
human flesh, that wretched Rakshasa endued with great strength ruleth
this country. He being the chief of the Asuras, this town and the country
in which it is situate are protected by his might. We have no fear from
the machinations of any enemy, or indeed from any living soul. The fee,
however, fixed for that cannibal is his food, which consists of a
cart-load of rice, two buffaloes, and a human being who conveyeth them
unto him. One after another, the house-holders have to send him this
food. The turn, however, cometh to a particular family at intervals of
many long years. If there are any that seek to avoid it, the Rakshasa
slayeth them with their children and wives and devoureth them all. There
is, in this country, a city called Vetrakiya, where liveth the king of
these territories. He is ignorant of the science of government, and
possessed of little intelligence, he adopts not with care any measure by
which these territories may be rendered safe for all time to come. But we
certainly deserve it all, inasmuch as we live within the dominion of that
wretched and weak monarch in perpetual anxiety. Brahmanas can never be
made to dwell permanently within the dominions of any one, for they are
dependent on nobody, they live rather like birds ranging all countries in
perfect freedom. It hath been said that one must secure a (good) king,
then a wife, and then wealth. It is by the acquisition of these three
that one can rescue his relatives and sons. But as regards the
acquisition of these three, the course of my actions hath been the
reverse. Hence, plunged into a sea of danger, am suffering sorely. That
turn, destructive of one's family, hath now devolved upon me. I shall
have to give unto the Rakshasa as his fee the food of the aforesaid
description and one human being to boot. I have no wealth to buy a man
with. I cannot by any means consent to part with any one of my family,
nor do I see any way of escape from (the clutches of) that Rakshasa. I am
now sunk in an ocean of grief from which there is no escape. I shall go
to that Rakshasa today, attended by all my family in order that that
wretch might devour us all at once'"



SECTION CLXIII

(Vaka-vadha Parva continued)

"Kunti said, Grieve not at all, O Brahmana, on account of this danger. I
see a way by which to rescue thee from that Rakshasa. Thou hast only one
son, who, besides, is of very tender years, also only one daughter, young
and helpless, so I do not like that any of these, or thy wife, or even
thyself should go unto the Rakshasa. I have five sons, O Brahmana, let
one of them go, carrying in thy behalf tribute of that Rakshasa.'

"Hearing this, the Brahmana replied, 'To save my own life I shall never
suffer this to be done. I shall never sacrifice, to save myself, the life
of a Brahmana or of a guest. Indeed, even those that are of low origin
and of sinful practices refuse to do (what thou askest me to do). It is
said that one should sacrifice one's self and one's offspring for the
benefit of a Brahmana. I regard this advice excellent and I like to
follow it too. When I have to choose between the death of a Brahmana and
that of my own, I would prefer the latter. The killing of a Brahmana is
the highest sin, and there is no expiation for it. I think a reluctant
sacrifice of one's own self is better than the reluctant sacrifice of a
Brahmana. O blessed lady, in sacrificing myself I do not become guilty of
self-destruction. No sin can attach to me when another will take my life.
But if I deliberately consent to the death of a Brahmana, it would be a
cruel and sinful act, from the consequence of which there is no escape.
The learned have said that the abandonment of one who hath come to thy
house or sought thy protection, as also the killing of one who seeketh
death at thy hands, is both cruel and sinful. The illustrious among those
conversant with practices allowable in seasons of distress, have before
now said that one should never perform an act that is cruel and
censurable. It is well for me that I should today perish myself with my
wife, but I would never sanction the death of a Brahmana.'

"Kunti said, 'I too am firmly of opinion, O Brahmana, that Brahmanas
should ever be protected. As regards myself, no son of mine would be less
dear to me even if I had a hundred instead of the five I have. But this
Rakshasa will not be able to kill my son, for that son of mine is endued
with great prowess and energy, and skilled in mantras. He will faithfully
deliver to the Rakshasa his food, but will, I know to a certainty, rescue
himself. I have seen before many mighty Rakshasas of huge bodies engaged
in combat with my heroic son and killed too by him. But, O Brahmana, do
not disclose this fact to anybody, for if it be known, persons desirous
of obtaining this power, will, from curiosity, always trouble my sons.
The wise have said that if my son imparteth any knowledge, without the
assent of his preceptor, unto any person, my son himself will no longer
be able to profit by that knowledge.'

"Thus addressed by Pritha, the Brahmana with his wife became exceedingly
glad and assented to Kunti's speech, which was unto them as nectar. Then
Kunti, accompanied by the Brahmana, went unto the son of Vayu (Bhima) and
asked him to accomplish (that difficult task). Bhima replied unto them,
saying, 'So be it.'"



SECTION CLXIV

(Vaka-vadha Parva continued)

"Vaisampayana said, 'After Bhima had pledged himself to accomplish the
task, saying, 'I will do it,' the Pandavas, O Bharata, returned home with
the alms they had obtained during the day. Then Yudhishthira, the son of
Pandu from Bhima's countenance alone, suspected the nature of the task he
had undertaken to accomplish. Sitting by the side of his mother,
Yudhishthira asked her in private, 'What is the task, O mother, that
Bhima of terrible prowess seeketh to accomplish? Doth he do so at thy
command or of his own accord?' Kunti replied, 'Bhima, that chastiser of
foes, will at my command, do this great deed for the good of the Brahmana
and the liberation of this town.'

"Yudhishthira said, 'What rash act hast thou done, O mother! It is
difficult of being performed and almost amounteth to suicide! The learned
never applaud the abandonment of one's own child. Why dost thou, O
mother, wish to sacrifice thy own child for the sake of another's? Thou
hast, O mother, by this abandonment of thy child, acted not only against
the course of human practices but also against the teachings of the
Vedas, That Bhima, relying on whose arms we sleep happily in the night
and hope to recover the kingdom of which we have been deprived by the
covetous son of Dhritarashtra, that hero of immeasurable energy,
remembering whose prowess Duryodhana and Sakuni do not sleep a wink
during the whole night and by whose prowess we were rescued from the
palace of lac and various other dangers, that Bhima who caused the death
of Purochana, and relying on whose might we regard ourselves as having
already slain the sons of Dhritarashtra and acquired the whole earth with
all her wealth, upon what considerations, O mother, hast thou resolved
upon abandoning him? Hast thou been deprived of thy reason? Hath thy
understanding been clouded by the calamities thou hast undergone?'

"On hearing these words of her son, Kunti said, 'O Yudhishthira, thou
needst not be at all anxious on account of Vrikodara. I have not come to
this resolve owing to any weakness of understanding. Respected by him,
and with our sorrows assuaged, we have, O son, been living in the house
of this Brahmana, unknown to the sons of Dhritarashtra. For requiting, O
son, that Brahmana, I have resolved to do this. He, indeed, is a man upon
whom good offices are never lost. The measure of his requital becometh
greater than the measure of the services he receiveth. Beholding the
prowess of Bhima on the occasion of (our escape from) the house of lac,
and from the destruction also of Hidimva, my confidence in Vrikodara is
great. The might of Bhima's arms is equal unto that of ten thousand
elephants. It was, therefore, that he succeeded in carrying you all, each
heavy as an elephant, from Varanavata. There is no one on earth equal
unto Bhima in might; he may even overcome that foremost of warriors, the
holder of the thunderbolt himself. Soon after his birth he fell from my
lap on the breast of the mountain. By the weight of his body the mass of
stone on which he fell down broke in pieces. From this also, O son of
Pandu, I have come to know Bhima's might. For this reason have I resolved
to set him against the Brahmana's foe. I have not acted in this from
foolishness or ignorance or from motive of gain. I have deliberately
resolved to do this virtuous deed. By this act, O Yudhishthira, two
objects will be accomplished; one is a requital of the services rendered
by the Brahmana and the other is the acquisition of high religious merit.
It is my conviction that the Kshatriya who rendereth help unto a Brahmana
in anything acquireth regions of bliss hereafter. So also a Kshatriya who
saveth the life of a Kshatriya achieveth that great fame in this world as
in the other. A Kshatriya rendering help unto a Vaisya also on this earth
certainly acquires world-wide popularity. One of the kingly tribe should
protect even the Sudra who cometh to him for protection. If he doeth so,
in his next life he receiveth his birth in a royal line, commanding
prosperity and the respect of other kings. O scion of Puru's race, the
illustrious Vyasa of wisdom acquired by hard ascetic toil told me so in
bygone days. It is therefore, that I have resolved upon accomplishing
this.'"



SECTION CLXV

(Vaka-vadha Parva continued)

"Having heard these words of his mother, Yudhishthira said, 'What thou, O
mother, hast deliberately done, moved by compassion for the afflicted
Brahmana, is, indeed, excellent Bhima will certainly come back with life,
after having slain the cannibal, inasmuch as thou art, O mother, always
compassionate unto Brahmanas. But tell the Brahmana, O mother, that he
doth not do anything whereby the dwellers in this town may know all about
it, and make him promise to keep thy request.'

"Vaisampayana continued, 'Then, when the night passed away, Bhimasena,
the son of Pandu, taking with him the Rakshasa's food set out for the
place where the cannibal lived. The mighty son of Pandu, approaching the
forest where the Rakshasa dwelt, began to eat himself the food he
carried, calling loudly to the Rakshasa by name. The Rakshasa, inflamed
with anger at Bhima's words, came out and approached the place where
Bhima was.

"Of huge body and great strength, of red eyes, red beard, and red hair,
he was terrible to behold, and he came, pressing deep the earth with his
tread. The opening of his mouth, was from ear to ear and his ears
themselves were straight as arrows. Of grim visage, he had a forehead
furrowed into three lines. Beholding Bhima eating his food, the Rakshasa
advanced, biting his nether lip and expanding his eyes in wrath. And
addressing Bhima he said, 'Who is this fool, who desiring to go to the
abode of Yama, eateth in my very sight the food intended for me?' Hearing
these words, Bhima, O Bharata, smiled in derision and disregarding the
Rakshasa, continued eating with averted face. Beholding this, the
cannibal uttered a frightful yell and with both arms upraised ran at
Bhima desiring to kill him, there and then. Even then disregarding the
Rakshasa and casting only a single glance at him, Vrikodara, that slayer
of hostile heroes continued to eat the Rakshasa's food. Filled with wrath
at this, the Rakshasa struck, from behind with both his arms a heavy blow
on the back of Vrikodara, the son of Kunti. But Bhima, though struck
heavily by the mighty Rakshasa, with both his hands, did not even look up
at the Rakshasa but continued to eat as before. Then the mighty Rakshasa,
inflamed with wrath, tore up a tree and ran at Bhima for striking him
again. Meanwhile the mighty Bhima, that bull among men had leisurely
eaten up the whole of that food and washing himself stood cheerfully for
fight. Then, O Bharata, possessed of great energy, Bhima, smiling in
derision, caught with his left hand the tree hurled at him by the
Rakshasa in wrath. Then that mighty Rakshasa, tearing up many more trees,
hurled them at Bhima, and the Pandava also hurled as many at the
Rakshasa. Then, O king, the combat with trees between that human being
and the Rakshasa, became so terrible that the region around soon became
destitute of trees. Then the Rakshasa, saying that he was none else than
Vaka, sprang upon the Pandava and seized the mighty Bhima with his arms.
That mighty hero also clasping with his own strong arms the strong-armed
Rakshasa, and exerting himself actively, began to drag him violently.
Dragged by Bhima and dragging Bhima also, the cannibal was overcome with
great fatigue. The earth began to tremble in consequence of the strength
they both exerted, and large trees that stood there broke in pieces. Then
Bhima, beholding the cannibal overcome with fatigue, pressed him down on
the earth with his knees and began to strike him with great force. Then
placing one knee on the middle of the Rakshasa's back, Bhima seized his
neck with his right hand and the cloth on his waist with his left, and
bent him double with great force. The cannibal then roared frightfully.
And, O monarch, he also began to vomit blood while he was being thus
broken on Bhima's knee.'"



SECTION CLXVI

(Vaka-vadha Parva continued)

"Vaisampayana said 'Then Vaka, huge as a mountain, thus broken (on
Bhima's knee), died, uttering frightful yells. Terrified by these sounds,
the relatives of that Rakshasa came out, O king, with their attendants.
Bhima, that foremost of smiters, seeing them so terrified and deprived of
reason, comforted them and made them promise (to give up cannibalism),
saying, 'Do not ever again kill human beings. If ye kill men, ye will
have to die even as Vaka.' Those Rakshasas hearing this speech of Bhima,
said, 'So be it,' and gave, O king, the desired promise. From that day, O
Bharata, the Rakshasas (of the region) were seen by the inhabitants of
that town to be very peaceful towards mankind. Then Bhima, dragging the
lifeless cannibal, placed him at one of the gates of the town and went
away unobserved by any one. The kinsmen of Vaka, beholding him slain by
the might of Bhima, became frightened and fled in different directions.

"Meanwhile Bhima, having slain the Rakshasa, returned to the Brahmana's
abode and related to Yudhishthira all that had happened, in detail. The
next morning the inhabitants of the town in coming out saw the Rakshasa
lying dead on the ground, his body covered with blood. Beholding that
terrible cannibal, huge as a mountain cliff, thus mangled and lying on
the ground, the hair of the spectators stood erect. Returning to
Ekachakra, they soon gave the intelligence. Then, O king, the citizens by
thousands accompanied by their wives, young and old, all began to come to
the spot for beholding the Vaka and they were all amazed at seeing that
superhuman feat. Instantly, O monarch, they began to pray to their gods.
Then they began to calculate whose turn it had been the day before to
carry food to the Rakshasa. And ascertaining this, they all came to that
Brahmana and asked him (to satisfy their curiosity). Thus asked by them
repeatedly, that bull among Brahmanas, desirous of concealing the
Pandavas, said these words unto all the citizens, 'A certain high-souled
Brahmana, skilled in mantras, beheld me weeping with my relatives after I
had been ordered to supply the Rakshasa's food. Asking me the cause and
ascertaining the distress of the town, that first of Brahmanas gave me
every assurance and with smiles said, 'I shall carry the food for that
wretched Rakshasa today. Do not fear for me.' Saying this he conveyed the
food towards the forest of Vaka. This deed, so beneficial unto us all,
hath very certainly been done by him.'

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We do not know the women's names, but their voices are quite distinct. All are pregnant. But while the first woman awaits the birth of her baby with a moon-like serenity, the other two are not so lucky. One, whose previous pregnancies have failed to go to term, is experiencing a heartbreaking late miscarriage; the other is a young student whose accidental pregnancy will end in her child being put up for adoption.

Sylvia Plath's only play was never intended for the stage, being broadcast instead on BBC radio in August 1962. Less than six months later, Plath killed herself, but not before the burst of astonishing creative energy that produced her extraordinary, terrifying Ariel poems.

Anyone who knows Plath's poetry will see the connection between Three Women and Plath's subsequent poems, particularly in the way she talks about the agony of childbirth, the rush of love for this tiny alien being, and both the wonder and wounded rawness of motherhood. It is a beautiful piece, full of startling imagery that draws you in through the sheer intensity of its femaleness, and because it so precisely articulates the emotions that are often thought but seldom voiced by women - certainly not in the early 1960s - about men, motherhood and our relationship to our bodies.

It's been 20 years since there has been an attempt at a professional stage version and - in a theatre world that happily accepts the poetic offerings of Sarah Kane and Debbie Tucker Green, or the staged possibilities of The Waves, one of Plath's own inspirations for the piece, I see no reason why it shouldn't be brought to life. Sadly, it doesn't breathe here, in a production by Robert Shaw that is clearly a labour of love, but which never finds a way to give the internal a physical reality. Plath's poetry, like most babies, is more robust than it appears - and won't break if treated with a little less reverence and considerably more grit.

Instead, what we are offered is tinkling piano music, mournful mood lighting, an innocuous pale setting, as well as three perfectly good but indisputably ladylike performances that capture none of the wounded redness of Plath's poetry, and do her the disservice of making her sound bleached and somewhat prissy. It's a pity. What might have been a wonder ends up a mere curiosity.

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