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The Mahabharata of Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 3 by or: Kisari Mohan Ganguli

o >> or: Kisari Mohan Ganguli >> The Mahabharata of Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 3




Vaishampayana continued, "While king Dhritarashtra was indulging in such
lamentations, Sanjaya addressed him in the following words for dispelling
his grief, Cast off thy grief, O monarch! Thou hast heard the conclusions
of the Vedas and the contents of diverse scriptures and holy writ, from
the lips of the old, O king! Thou hast heard those words which the sages
said unto Sanjaya while the latter was afflicted with grief on account of
the death of his son. When thy son, O monarch, caught the pride that is
born of youth, thou didst not accept the counsels offered unto thee by
thy well-wishers. Desirous of fruit, thou didst not, through
covetousness, do what was really for thy benefit. Thy own intelligence,
like a sharp sword, has wounded thee. Thou didst generally pay court to
those that were of wicked behaviour. Thy son had Duhshasana for his
counsellor, and the wicked-souled son of Radha, and the equally wicked
Shakuni and Citrasena of foolish understanding, and Salya. Thy son (by
his own behaviour) made the whole world his enemy. Thy son, O Bharata,
did not obey the words of Bhishma, the reverend chief of the Kurus, of
Gandhari and Vidura, of Drona, O king, of Kripa the son of Sharadvata, of
the mighty-armed Krishna, of the intelligent Narada, of many other
rishis, and of Vyasa himself of immeasurable energy. Though possessed of
prowess, thy son was of little intelligence, proud, always desirous of
battle, wicked, ungovernable, and discontented. Thou art possessed of
learning and intelligence and art always truthful. They that are so
righteous and possessed of such intelligence as thou, are never stupefied
by grief. Virtue was regarded by none of them. Battle was the one word on
their lips. For this the Kshatriya order has been exterminated and the
fame of thy foes enhanced. Thou hadst occupied the position of an umpire,
but thou didst not utter one word of salutary advise. Unfitted as thou
wert for the task, thou didst not hold the scales evenly. Every person
should, at the outset, adopt such a beneficial line of action that he may
not have, in the end, to repent for something already done by him.
Through affection for thy son, O monarch, thou didst what was agreeable
to Duryodhana. Thou art obliged to repent for that now. It behoveth thee,
however not to give way to grief. The man whose eyes are directed towards
only the honey without being once directed to the fall, meets with
destruction through his covetousness for honey. Such a man is obliged to
repent even like thee. The man who indulges in grief never wins wealth.
By grieving one loses the fruits one desires. Grief is again an obstacle
to the acquisition of objects dear to us. The man who gives way to grief
loses even his salvation. The man who shrouds a burning coal within the
folds of his attire and is burnt by the fire that is kindled by it, would
be pronounced a fool if he grieves for his injuries. Thyself, with thy
son, hadst, with your words, fanned the Partha-fire, and with your
covetousness acting as clarified butter caused that fire to blaze forth,
into consuming flames. When that fire thus blazed forth thy sons fell
into it like insects. It behoveth thee not, however, to grieve for them
now that they have all been burnt in the fire of the enemys arrow. The
tear-stained face, O king, which thou bearest now is not approved by the
scriptures or praised by the wise. These tears, like sparks of fire, burn
the dead for whom they are shed. Kill thy grief with thy intelligence,
and bear thyself up with the strength of thy own self! Thus was the king
comforted by the high-souled Sanjaya. Vidura then, O scorcher of foes,
once again addressed the king, displaying great intelligence."



2

Vaishampayana said, "Listen, O Janamejaya, to the nectar-like words that
Vidura said unto the son of Vicitravirya and by which he gladdened that
bull among men!

"Vidura said, Rise, O king! Why art thou stretched on the earth? Bear
thyself up with thy own self. O king, even this is the final end of all
living creatures. Everything massed together ends in destruction;
everything that gets high is sure to fall down. Union is certain to end
in separation; life is sure to end in death. The destroyer, O Bharata,
drags both the hero and the coward. Why then, O bull amongst Kshatriyas,
should not Kshatriyas engage in battle? He that does not fight is seen to
escape with life. When, however, ones time comes, O king, one cannot
escape. As regards living creatures, they are non-existent at first. They
exist in the period that intervenes. In the end they once more become
non-existent. What matter of grief then is there in this? The man that
indulges in grief succeeds not in meeting with the dead. By indulging in
grief, one does not himself die. When the course of the world is such,
why dost thou indulge in sorrow? Death drags all creatures, even the
gods. There is none dear or hateful to death, O best of the Kurus! As the
wind tears off the tops of all blades of grass, even so, O bull of
Bharatas race, death overmasters all creatures. All creatures are like
members of a caravan bound for the same destination. (When death will
encounter all) it matters very little whom he meets with first. It
behoveth thee not, O king, to grieve for those that have been slain in
battle. If the scriptures are any authority, all of them must have
obtained the highest end. All of them were versed in the Vedas; all of
them had observed vows. Facing the foe all of them have met with death.
What matter of sorrow is there in this? Invisible they had been (before
birth). Having come from that unknown region, they have once more become
invisible. They are not thine, nor art thou theirs. What grief then is
there in such disappearance? If slain, one wins heaven. By slaying, fame
is won. Both these, with respect to us, are productive of great merit.
Battle, therefore, is not bootless. No doubt, Indra will contrive for
them regions capable of granting every wish. These, O bull among men,
become the guests of Indra. Men cannot, by sacrifices with profuse gifts,
by ascetic penances and by learning, go so speedily to heaven as heroes
slain in battle. On the bodies of hostile heroes constituting the
sacrificial fire, they poured their arrowy libations. Possessed of great
energy, they had in return to endure the arrowy libations (poured upon
them by their enemies). I tell thee, O king, that for a Kshatriya in this
world there is not a better road to heaven than battle! They were all
high-souled Kshatriyas; possessed of bravery, they were ornaments of
assemblies. They have attained to a high state of blessedness. They are
not persons for whom we should grieve. Comforting thyself by thy own self
cease to grieve, O bull among men! It behoveth thee not to suffer thyself
to be overwhelmed with sorrow and to abandon all actions. There are
thousands of mothers and fathers and sons and wives in this world. Whose
are they, and whose are we? From day to day thousands of causes spring up
for sorrow and thousands of causes for fear. These, however, affect the
ignorant but are nothing to him that is wise. There is none dear or
hateful to Time, O best of the Kurus! Time is indifferent to none. All
are equally dragged by Time. Time causeth all creatures to grow, and it
is Time that destroyeth everything. When all else is asleep, Time is
awake. Time is irresistible. Youth, beauty, life, possessions, health,
and the companionship of friends, all are unstable. He that is wise will
never covet any of these. It behoveth thee not to grieve for what is
universal. A person may, by indulging in grief, himself perish, but grief
itself, by being indulged in, never becomes light. Ifthou feelest thy
grief to be heavy, it should be counteracted by not indulging in it. Even
this is the medicine for grief, viz., that one should not indulge in it.
By dwelling on it, one cannot lessen it. On the other hand, it grows with
indulgence. Upon the advent of evil or upon the bereavement of something
that is dear, only they that are of little intelligence suffer their
minds to be afflicted with grief. This is neither Profit, nor Religion,
nor Happiness, on which thy heart is dwelling. The indulgence of grief is
the certain means of ones losing ones objects. Through it, one falls away
from the three great ends of life (religion, profit, and pleasure). They
that are destitute of contentment, are stupefied on the accession of
vicissitudes dependent upon the possession of wealth. They, however, that
are wise, are on the other hand, unaffected by such vicissitudes. One
should kill mental grief by wisdom, just as physical grief should be
killed by medicine. Wisdom hath this power. They, however, that are
foolish, can never obtain tranquillity of soul. The acts of a former life
closely follow a man, insomuch that they lie by him when he lies down,
stay by him when he stays, and run with him when he runs. In those
conditions of life in which one acts well or ill, one enjoys or suffers
the fruit thereof in similar conditions. In those forms (of physical
organisation) in which one performs particular acts, one enjoys or
suffers the fruits thereof in similar forms. Ones own self is ones own
friend, as, indeed, ones own self is ones own enemy. Ones own self is the
witness of ones acts, good and evil. From good acts springs a state of
happiness, from sinful deeds springs woe. One always obtains the fruit of
ones acts. One never enjoys or suffers weal or woe that is not the fruit
of ones own acts. Intelligent persons like thee, O king, never sink in
sinful enormities that are disapproved by knowledge and that strike at
the very root (of virtue and happiness)."



3

"Dhritarashtra said, O thou of great wisdom, my grief has been dispelled
by thy excellent words! I desire, however, to again hear thee speak. How,
indeed, do those that are wise free themselves from mental grief born of
the advent of evils and the bereavement of objects that are dear?

"Vidura said, He that is wise obtains tranquillity by subduing both grief
and joy through means by which one may escape from grief and joy. All
those things about which we are anxious, O bull among men, are ephemeral.
The world is like a plantain tree, without enduring strength. Since the
wise and the foolish, the rich and the poor, all, divested of their
anxieties, sleep on the crematorium, with bodies reft of flesh and full
of bare bones and shrivelled sinews, whom amongst them will the survivors
look upon as possessed of distinguishing marks by which the attributes of
birth and beauty may be ascertained? (When all are equal in death) why
should human beings, whose understandings are always deceived (by the
things of this world) covet one anothers rank and position? The learned
say that the bodies of men are like houses. In time these are destroyed.
There is one being, however, that is eternal. As a person, casting off
one attire, whether old or new, wears another, even such is the case with
the bodies of all embodied beings. O son of Vicitravirya, creatures
obtain weal or woe as the fruit of their own acts. Through their acts
they obtain heaven, O Bharata, or bliss, or woe. Whether able or unable,
they have to bear their burdens which are the result of their own acts.
As amongst earthen pots some break while still on the potters wheel, some
while partially shaped, some as soon as brought into shape, some after
removal from the wheel, some while in course of being removed, some after
removal, some while wet, some while dry, some while being burnt, some
while being removed from the kiln, some after removal therefrom, and some
while being used, even such is the case with the bodies of embodied
creatures. Some are destroyed while yet in the womb, some after coming
out of the womb, some on the day after, some on the expiration of a
fortnight or of a month, some on the expiration of a year or of two
years, some in youth, some in middle age, and some when old. Creatures
are born or destroyed according to their acts in previous lives. When
such is the course of the world, why do you then indulge in grief? As
men, while swimming in sport on the water, sometimes dive and sometimes
emerge, O king, even so creatures sink and emerge in lifes stream. They
that are of little wisdom suffer or meet with destruction as the result
of their own acts. They, however, that are wise, observant of virtue, and
desirous of doing good unto all living creatures, they, acquainted with
the real nature of the appearance of creatures in this world, attain at
last to the highest end."



4

"Dhritarashtra said, O foremost speakers, how may the wilderness of this
world be known? I desire to hear this. Asked by me, tell me this.

"Vidura said, I will describe to thee all the acts of creatures from
their first conception. At the outset it lives in the admixture of blood
and the vital fluid. Then it grows little by little. Then on the expiry
of the fifth month it assumes shape. It next becomes a foetus with all
its limbs completed, and lives in a very impure place, covered with flesh
and blood. Then, through the action of the wind, its lower limbs are
turned upwards and the head comes downwards. Arriving in this posture at
the mouth of the uterus, it suffers manifold woes. In consequence of the
contractions of the uterus, the creature then comes out of it, endued
with the results of all his previous acts. He then encounters in this
world other evils that rush towards him. Calamities proceed towards him
like dogs at the scent of meat. Next diverse diseases approach him while
he is enchained by his previous acts. Bound by the chains of the senses
and women and wealth and other sweet things of life, diverse evil
practices also approach him then, O king! Seized by these, he never
obtains happiness. At that season he succeeds not in obtaining the fruit
of his acts, right or wrong. They, however, that set their hearts on
reflection, succeed in protecting their souls. The person governed by his
senses does not know that death has come at his door. At last, dragged by
the messengers of the Destroyer, he meets with destruction at the
appointed time. Agitated by his senses, for whatever good and evil has
been done at the outset and having enjoyed or suffered the fruits of
these, he once more becomes indifferent to his acts of self-slaughter.
Alas, the world is deceived, and covetousness brings it under its
dominion. Deprived of understanding by covetousness, wrath, and fear, one
knows not ones own self. Filled with joy at ones own respectability of
birth, one is seen to traduce those that are not high-born. Swelled also
with pride of wealth, one is seen to contemn the poor. One regards others
to be ignorant fools, but seldom takes a survey of ones own self. One
attributes faults to others but is never desirous to punish ones own
self. Since the wise and the ignorant, the rich and the poor, the
high-born and the lowborn, the honoured and the dishonoured, all go to
the place of the dead and sleep there freed from every anxiety, with
bodies divested of flesh and full only of bones united by dried-up
tendons, whom amongst them would the survivors look upon as distinguished
above the others and by what signs would they ascertain the attributes of
birth and beauty? When all, stretched after the same fashion, sleep on
the bare ground, why then should men, taking leave of their senses,
desire to deceive one another? He that, looking at this saying (in the
scriptures) with his own eyes or hearing it from others, practiseth
virtue in this unstable world of life and adhereth to it from early age,
attaineth to the highest end. Learning all this, he that adhereth to
Truth, O king, succeedeth in passing over all paths."



5

"Dhritarashtra said, Tell me in detail everything about the ways of that
intelligence by which this wilderness of duties may be safely covered.

"Vidura said, Having bowed down to the Self-create, I will obey thy
behest by telling thee how the great sages speak of the wilderness of
life. A certain brahmana, living in the great world, found himself on one
occasion in a large inaccessible forest teeming with beasts of prey. It
abounded on every side with lions and other animals looking like
elephants, all of which were engaged in roaring aloud. Such was the
aspect of that forest that Yama himself would take fright at it.
Beholding the forest, the heart of the brahmana became exceedingly
agitated. His hair stood on end, and other signs of fear manifested
themselves, O scorcher of foes! Entering it, he began to run hither and
thither, casting his eyes on every point of the compass for finding out
somebody whose shelter he might seek. Wishing to avoid those terrible
creatures, he ran in fright. He could not succeed, however, in distancing
them or freeing himself from their presence. He then saw that that
terrible forest was surrounded with a net, and that a frightful woman
stood there, stretching her arms. That large forest was also encompassed
by many five-headed snakes of dreadful forms, tall as cliffs and touching
the very heavens. Within it was a pit whose mouth was covered with many
hard and unyielding creepers and herbs. The brahmana, in course of his
wanderings, fell into that invisible pit. He became entangled in those
clusters of creepers that were interwoven with one another, like the
large fruit of a jack tree hanging by its stalk. He continued to hang
there, feet upwards and head downwards. While he was in that posture,
diverse other calamities overtook him. He beheld a large and mighty snake
within the pit. He also saw a gigantic elephant near its mouth. That
elephant, dark in complexion, had six faces and twelve feet. And the
animal gradually approached that pit covered with creepers and trees.
About the twigs of the tree (that stood at the mouth of the pit), roved
many bees of frightful forms, employed from before in drinking the honey
gathered in their comb about which they swarmed in large numbers.
Repeatedly they desired, O bull of Bharatas race, to taste that honey
which though sweet to all creatures could, however, attract children
only. The honey (collected in the comb) fell in many jets below. The
person who was hanging in the pit continually drank those jets. Employed,
in such a distressful situation, in drinking that honey, his thirst,
however, could not be appeased. Unsatiated with repeated draughts, the
person desired for more. Even then, O king, he did not become indifferent
to life. Even there, the man continued to hope for existence. A number of
black and white rats were eating away the roots of that tree. There was
fear from the beasts of prey, from that fierce woman on the outskirts of
that forest, from that snake at the bottom of the well, from that
elephant near its top, from the fall of the tree through the action of
the rats, and lastly from those bees flying about for tasting the honey.
In that plight he continued to dwell, deprived of his senses, in that
wilderness, never losing at any time the hope of prolonging his life."



6

"Dhritarashtra said, Alas, great was the distress of that person and very
painful his mode of life! Tell me, O first of speakers, whence was his
attachment to life and whence his happiness? Where is that region, so
unfavourable to the practice of virtue, in which that person resides? Oh,
tell me how will that man be freed from all those great terrors? Tell me
all this! We shall then exert ourselves properly for him. My compassion
has been greatly moved by the difficulties that lie in the way of his
rescue!

"Vidura said, They that are conversant, O monarch, with the religion of
moksha cite this as a simile. Understanding this properly, a person may
attain to bliss in the regions hereafter. That which is described as the
wilderness is the great world. The inaccessible forest within it is the
limited sphere of ones own life. Those that have been mentioned as beasts
of prey are the diseases (to which we are subject). That woman of
gigantic proportions residing in the forest is identified by the wise
with Decrepitude which destroys complexion and beauty. That which has
been spoken of as the pit is the body or physical frame of embodied
creatures. The huge snake dwelling in the bottom of that pit is time, the
destroyer of all embodied creatures. It is, indeed, the universal
destroyer. The cluster of creepers growing in that pit and attached to
whose spreading stems the man hangeth down is the desire for life which
is cherished by every creature. The six-faced elephant, O king, which
proceeds towards the tree standing at the mouth of the pit is spoken of
as the year. Its six faces are the seasons and its twelve feet are the
twelve months. The rats and the snakes that are cutting off the tree are
said to be days and nights that are continually lessening the periods of
life of all creatures. Those that have been described as bees are our
desires. The numerous jets that are dropping honey are the pleasures
derived from the gratification of our desires and to which men are seen
to be strongly addicted. The wise know lifes course to be even such.
Through that knowledge they succeed in tearing off its bonds."



7

"Dhritarashtra said, Excellent is this parable that thou hast recited!
Indeed, thou art acquainted with truth! Having listened to thy nectarlike
speech, I desire to hear thee more.

"Vidura said, Listen to me, O king, I shall once more discourse in detail
on those means an acquaintance with which enable the wise to free
themselves from the ties of the world. As a person, O king, who has to
travel a long way is sometimes obliged to halt when fatigued with toil,
even so, O Bharata, they that are of little intelligence, travelling
along the extended way of life, have to make frequent halts in the shape
of repeated births in the womb. They, however, that are wise are free
from that obligation. Men conversant with the scriptures, for this,
describe lifes course as a long way. The wise also call lifes round with
all its difficulties a forest. Creatures, O bull of Bharatas race,
whether mobile or immobile, have to repeatedly return to the world. The
wise alone escape. The diseases, mental and physical, to which mortals
are subject, whether visible or invisible, are spoken of as beasts of
prey by the wise. Men are always afflicted and impeded by them, O
Bharata! Then again, those fierce beasts of prey, represented by their
own acts in life, never cause any anxiety to them that are of little
intelligence. If any person, O monarch, somehow escapes from diseases,
Decrepitude, that destroyer of beauty, overwhelmshim afterwards. Plunged
in a slough by the objects of the different senses--sound and form and
taste and touch and scent--man remains there without anything to rescue
him thence. Meanwhile, the years, the seasons, the months, the
fortnights, the days, and the nights, coming one after another, gradually
despoil him of beauty and lessen the period allotted to him. These all
are messengers of death. They, however, that are of little understanding
know them not to be such. The wise say that all creatures are governed by
the Ordainer through their acts. The body of a creature is called the
car. The living principle is the driver of (that car). The senses are
said to be steeds. Our acts and the understanding are the traces. He who
followeth after those running steeds has to come repeatedly to this world
in a round of rebirths. He, however, who, being self-restrained restrains
them by his understanding hath not to come back. They, however, that are
not stupefied while wandering in this wheel of life that is revolving
like a real wheel, do not in reality wander in a round of rebirths. He
that is wise should certainly take care to prevent the obligation of
rebirth. One should not be indifferent to this, for indifference may
subject us to it repeatedly. The man, O king, who has restrained his
senses and subdued wrath and covetousness, who is contented, and truthful
in speech, succeeds in obtaining peace. This body is called the car of
Yama. Then those that are of little intelligence are stupefied by it.
Such a person, O king, would obtain that which thou hast obtained. The
loss of kingdom, of friends, and of children, O Bharata, and such as
these, overtake him who is still under the influence of desire. He that
is wise should apply the medicine of intelligence to all great griefs.
Indeed, obtaining the medicine of wisdom, which is truly very efficacious
and is almost unattainable, the man of restrained soul would kill that
serious disease called sorrow. Neither prowess, nor wealth, nor friend,
nor well-wishers can cure a man of his grief so effectually as the
self-restrained soul. Therefore, observant of the great duty of
abstention from all injuries, or friendship for all creatures, be of
pious behaviour, O Bharata! Self-restraint, renunciation, and heedfulness
are the three steeds of Brahman. He who rides on the car of his soul,
unto which are yoked these steeds with the aid of traces furnished by
good conduct, and drives it, casting off all fear of death, proceedeth, O
king, to the regions of Brahman. That person, O monarch, who gives unto
all creatures an assurance of his harmlessness, goes to the highest of
regions, the blessed realm of Vishnu. The fruit that one obtains by an
assurance unto all creatures of his harmlessness cannot be obtained by a
1,000 sacrifices or by daily fasts. Amongst all things there is certainly
nothing dearer than self. Death is certainly disliked by all creatures, O
Bharata! Therefore, compassion should certainly be shown unto all. Endued
with diverse kinds of errors entangled by the net of their own
intelligence, they that are wicked and are of good vision, wander
repeatedly on the earth. They however, that are wise and endued with
subtle sight, attain to a union with Brahman."

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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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