DRAUPADI - 64

  

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's 

DRAUPADI - 64 

Miles inside Kamyak forest

the new Pandava hut was big

Draupadi found the Saraswati banks

more enchanting, the water

more caressing to the body

tasting sweet, her guava smell

made her happy, her birds and beasts

of the Dwaita got the scent

and joined the Kamyak flock,

raised the pitch at dawn.

The trees were lovely

dark and tall they stood

pillars of protective strength

sober and staid less talkative

than Draupadi approved

yet she was nostalgic:

Memory is the tormentor

it makes the past present

makes you smile or cry,

never leaves you alone,

often ruins your appetite

for adjustment with your new reality,

yet often also it lifts you up

bringing  back stored treasures

in torrential measures.

But the nagging memories of Dussasana's

rough hands on her often

imbalanced her moods.

 

Life moved on breath inviting

breath in pauseless succession

prolonged the days in hope's corridors.

Arjuna went out to appease Shiva

Bhima went to Dwarika to polish

his club art with Balram's tips.

The Madri sons helped Draupadi

in housekeeping and providing

household needs moving in the forest

for nature's sustaining bounties.

Yudhistira spent his time with saints

attended yajnas and conversed

with sages on dharma, philosophy

in desperate compensation for his

self invited disaster unredeemed.

 

One morning Draupadi saw him

asleep on the ground half clad in bark

his hair on the dawn wet grass

Draupadi felt her feet heavy as the

load in her mind suddenly grew.

O what a fall, the eldest Pandava

wise erudite principled upright

is a helpless sod left to the mercy

of elements unaccommodated orphan.

The King of Indraprastha, the Emperor

of the sacred Arayabarta  at whose feet

the kings, scholars and wisemen

bowed like paid courtiers at dawn

on whose crown the sun sat polishing

Dharma to purge the world of sins,

at whose command the might of Bhima

and Arjuna clammed up in reverence:

That Yudhistira is lying abandoned

as virtue denied pearl in a hole!

 

Draupadi went running caressed

his head, dusted off his body

when Yudhistira waking up met her

sparkling eyes bursting out of her

mornglow face he got up with a start -

What happened, Is anything wrong Princess?

 

Draupadi gulped all concerns

holding his hand she said, No no

nothing has happened to me, nor will

ever happen when Dharmaraja is there.

I saw you on the floor asleep

the sun is up, the birds have gone

for their daily destiny - So I came

to wake you up; Yudhistira stood up

smiling like a child and went for

morning ablutions without a word.

 

What is important, thought Panchali

crown, sceptre, throne or self respect?

When fakery throttles your truth

the straight is trampled by the crooked

why should the straight hide his shame

in fatalistic forests in total silence?

 

After Yudhistira had his body needs

duly served by Panchali and drank

Saraswati waters, Draupadi asked:

Why should one be good? Why should

one obey hate imposed rules, trapping

the good in the illusion of its own goodness.

Yudhistira frowned, good is not illusion

good is truth in action, Karma reflects

the goodness of your being. But does

it protect you against the evil of others?

You agreed to play dice in good faith

but Shakuni wielded the crooked dice

for Duryodhana's vile purpose; you

could not prevent that, you could not

know you were a toy manipulated

by the dynamic hands of evil.

Your good was mute, dharma silent.

You descended at every turn

to the depths of ignominy, their

boisterous laugh did not arouse

the wrath of Dharma, Justice

blindfolded left her balance:

Who repelled the penetration of evil?

Yudhistira in grim silence glared.

Draupadi continued - If Dharma,

justice good left you when your

soul was torn apart by evil,

you bowed  your crownless head, lowered

your eyes and walked into the trap.

And now you are rolling on

dry forest leaves in dry throated groan:

O Dharmaraja awaken your Dharma

your own native inborn, justice

and punish the abusers of vile powers

by your innate good, snatch out

what is rightfully yours by your

own  strength of justice,

defy the exile, a monocratic rule

without scriptural sanctions - stop,

Panchali  stop hurling your logic

it irritates more than it hurts;

Why should I stop? Time has come

to abandon pardon and show your

heroic power, time has come to

destroy them and claim what

you have lost to deceit and bluster.

People hate the weak and the helpless

but before the mighty they shrink,

he who knows both the things

is the right person to be the king .

Yudhistira stood up and mustering

a calm voice said Panchali! You

speak in anger and frustration

the logic of the common folk

who do not understand good or evil

they are passion-stung mortals

unaware of life's time and space.

In the history of civilization, they

count their triumphs in hours, years

in measurable limit constants:

I am not that king I know I should

not have played dice, but I did

I trusted them and failed but

I never work to enjoy the fruits

of Dharma, I do whatever I feel

is attuned to my  conscience.

If you observe Dharma and truth

you never think of fruits of desires

and accordingly I have lived and worked.

If I have paid the price for my convictions

if my Dharma has landed me here

I have no regrets, I never pretend

goodness to acquire or achieve things

I diced, I lost and I am here yet

my only misery is I have given misery

to you and my brothers, you people

became victims of my will and action.

 

Draupadi fell silent, Yudhistira looked away

both went severally to nurse their

agony in silent introspection