The 'Sabha Parva' of the Mahabharata

This is a unification of several pieces written for the New Indian Express.

According to the eighteen-parva classification of the Mahabharata, the first, Adi Parva, ends with the chapter in which Krishna and Arjuna burn the Khandava forest.

The initial upheavals in the main story conclude in the Adi Parva. From outright rejection of the Pandavas’ claim to any part of his kingdom, king Dhritarashtra of Hastinapura eventually gives half - albeit the inhospitable half, containing the Khandava forest - to them. This change in attitude happens after Duryodhana’s conspiracy to have his cousins burnt alive in the house of lac becomes an open secret. With the prospect of war looming - and a risky one at that, because of the Pandavas’ alliance with the kingdom of Panchala (through their marriage with princess Draupadi) - Dhritarashtra goes for conciliation. The Pandavas build a city called Indraprastha and start governing from there.

After Arjun breaks the brothers’ protocol of exclusivity with Draupadi, he accepts an exile of twelve years during which, after numerous adventures, he abducts and marries Krishna’s step-sister. This marriage, favoured by Krishna, reaffirms the alliance between the Pandavas of Indraprastha and the kingdom of Dvarka, potentially posing an even greater threat to the powers in Hastinapura. Nevertheless, the twelve years of Arjuna’s exile and the months after that are peaceful, and no escalation of hostilities between the Kauravas and Pandavas takes place. Krishna brings Subhadra’s dowry to Indraprastha and stays back for a length of time. During this visit, he and Arjuna burn the Khandava forest for no apparent reason, or perhaps because they were goaded on by a brahmin with a gargantuan appetite.

It is after the Khandava conflagration, which at first appears inordinately mindless, cruel, and inconsequential to the main story, that the Sabha Parva of the Mahabharata begins. We soon find that the fire was not so purposeless after all, as one of the creatures whom Arjuna allows to escape the burning forest turns out to be a powerful demon named Maya, the chief architect of the danavas. In an attempt to flatter the two who spared his life, Maya asks Arjuna and Krishna if he can be of any service to them. After some deliberation, Krishna demands that Maya build a large assembly hall for king Yudhistira, one that shall be without equal in its beauty in splendour. Maya accepts the task and is introduced to the rest of the royalty in Indraprastha. Immediately after this, Krishna leaves Indraprastha for Dvarka. Maya, too, goes on a journey to Mount Mainaka (to the north of Kailasha), where danavas are said to perform their sacrifices, and where jewels and implements and other riches to be employed in the construction of the assembly hall are to be found. After his return, Maya constructs the palace in another fourteen months.

The text likens the hall to a beautiful vimana (plane), also calling it “like the sky covered with a mountain or cloud” - making us wonder if it is airborne. Eight thousand rakshashas, known as kimkaras, are employed in its protection, and surely these should be counted as additions to Yudhistira’s army. 

Before taking charge of the sabha made for him by the danava Maya, king Yudhistira pays homage to ten thousand brahmins with garments, garlands and eatables. We again see how every grand event among the kshatriyas -- even one involving an exchange between kshatriyas and a danava -- becomes a rent-seeking opportunity for the brahmins. The epic, certainly written by the priest class, does not miss many opportunities to show the kshatriyas as making deep obeisances to the brahmins. At any rate, the upkeep of the varna system is an attitude central to the Mahabharata, and inasmuch as evidences of this attitude today rightly attract criticism, the Mahabharata also shall bear these.

Saying that the original text needs to be criticized in places does not mean that the epic, in and of itself, has no value for our times. For one, the text alludes to, and promotes, strict principles of governance and proper conduct for kings. Perhaps the best example of this is seen in Narada rishi’s visit to king Yudhistira’s sabha, in which the sage interrupts the revelries in the court and then poses a flurry of questions to the king. Note, here, that it is Narada’s second visit to the Pandavas. In the first visit, he had advised them to establish a protocol of exclusivity with Draupadi and set up rules for punishment in case that protocol was breached.

In the grand sabha, Narada asks Yudhistira many questions one after the other, never waiting to get an answer to any one question. This method implies that the questions are rhetorical, their purpose not to see if Yudhistira knows the answer but only to remind him of their relevance and complexity. Narada is giving a lecture.

Narada asks Yudhistira if he uses “the six royal qualities to judge the seven means?”, or does he “follow the eight duties before concluding an alliance?”, or are his “six chief officers” devoted to him? The usage of numbers in Narada’s speech tells the reader that the details about royal qualities and means and duties, et cetera, have been enumerated in other texts which are available for the king to study.

Particularly interesting are the instances when Narada asks Yudhistira about his mental health and personal habits. Eg. “Do you find happiness without making your mind suffer?” Or, “In the dead of night, do you think about what should be done and what should not?” Such questions suggest that while the ruler is expected to stay awake with the concerns of good governance, his (it’s always a ‘he’ here) mental health is clearly seen as a crucial element.

After the long lecture, Yudhistira, perhaps a bit vain at this point, requests Narada to appreciate his great assembly hall, and also to provide details of divine assembly halls to which Narada, being the only rishi capable of teleporting between the three worlds, must have access to. Yudhistira believes that his own assembly hall can be compared to those extraordinary places.

Narada provides details of the assembly halls of Indra, Yama, Varuna, and finally, Brahma. The descriptions satisfy Yudhistira, but his interest is piqued by one significant detail. In Indra’s assembly hall, named Pushkarmalini, there are various divine beings and devarshis present, as expected, but there is also one mortal king who has been given access: Raja Harishchandra. Yudhistira asks Narada how Harishchandra has been allowed in Indra’s assembly hall, and the reply he receives sets in motion a chain of events that ultimately lead to the reignition of hostilities between the Pandavas and the Kauravas -- hostilities which have been dormant for more than twelve years now.

Narada tells Yudhistira that Harishchandra’s special privilege is because he has successfully conducted the rajasuya sacrifice, which, among other things, means that Harishchandra proclaimed himself the universal emperor and made all other kings on earth pay tribute to him. Yudhistira covets Harishchandra’s reward in Pushkarmalini, and his desire escalates even further when Narada tells him that his father, Pandu, has urged him from the after-life to conduct the rajasuya sacrifice. Narada does mention the problems associated with the sacrifice, one of which is that it may lead to a war (as other kings are asked to pay tribute). But by now, the idea of the supreme royal sacrifice has lodged itself rigidly in the king’s head.

The turn of events suggests that this - the instigation of Yudhistira for the sacrifice - was Narada’s sole objective for visiting the Pandava king’s assembly hall. If this is true, Narada’s agency in driving the story needs acknowledgement. He was the one who made the Pandavas establish a protocol for exclusivity with Draupadi, one which eventually led to Arjuna’s twelve year exile. And he is the one who is goading the Pandavas towards a sacrifice that will initiate a power tussle with the Kauravas.

After Narada leaves, Yudhistira calls his brothers and other court personalities for counsel. The others advise him to stop reflecting on the issue and to commit whole-heartedly to the sacrifice. Yudhistira remains a skeptic, though, largely because he is astute enough to know that friends and well-wishers advise from within the paradigm of their own desires and ambitions. So, unable to take the bold step, he sends a messenger named Indrasena to Dvarka. When Krishna hears of Yudhistira’s conundrum, he decides to accompany Indrasena back to Indraprastha.

Krishna, however, has an agenda of his own, to the extent that he might even be seeing Yudhistira’s desire for the rajasuya as an opportunity for himself and the Yadav community.

In Indraprastha, Krishna reminds Yudhistira that the rajasuya sacrifice means proclaiming oneself the universal emperor. Given that, if Yudhistira were to proceed with the sacrifice, it will only be an empty gesture, Krishna clarifies - for the real supreme emperor is king Jarasandha of Magadha. Krishna tells Yudhistira how Jarasandha has imprisoned eighty-six kings and has taken over their dominions, and is clamouring to extend the number to a hundred, at which point he plans to sacrifice all the prisoners. In the face of such terrible manifestation of power, the only right way for Yudhistira to do a rajasuya sacrifice, it would seem, is after the elimination of Jarasandha.

This is not completely neutral advice, for Krishna has his own reasons of enmity with Jarasandha. Jarasandha's daughter was married to Kamsa, the ruler of Mathura slain by Krishna. After Kamsa's death, his wife approached her father, Jarasandha, and "repeatedly urged him to kill her husband's killer". And so we learn that it was out of fear of Jarasandha that Krishna (and the Yadavs in general) fled westward and ultimately settled in Dvaravati, a place with a very elaborate defense system made of series of secured dvars (gates).

Hearing about Jarasandha’s prowess and power, Yudhistira fidgets. He fears failure, and even says that “the rajasuya is too difficult to accomplish”. But Krishna was never appealing to Yudhistira’s good sense, but to the pride of his two younger brothers - Bhima and Arjuna. In that he is successful. The two most powerful Pandavas try to convince Yudhistira, even at times provoking the elder brother with some harsh words. “A king who has no enterprise is like an anthill,” Bhima says. “What purpose is served if one possesses all the qualities, but lacks valour?” Arjuna questions. Krishna joins their efforts, and adds an element of poetry, “We do not know the time of our death, whether it will be night or day. Nor have we heard of anyone attaining immortality by avoiding battle.”

Excited, Yudhistira asks Krishna for more information about Jarasandha, and is told his origin story. Krishna also tells Yudhistira that it is the best time to kill the ruler of Magadha, as his two powerful bodyguards, Hamsa and Dibhaka, and his most powerful ally, Kamsa, are now dead. Finally, Yudhistira allows Arjuna and Bhima to accompany Krishna on the mission to kill Jarasandha.

We thus see the alliance formed between the kingdoms of Indraprastha and Dvaravati after Arjun's marriage with Subhadra begin to wield its power in a larger geopolitical game. Arjuna is the key actor, of course - as the one who won Draupadi and the one who kidnapped Subhadra, he has single-handedly helped increase the Pandavas’ might through alliances.

As the Jarasandha-vadha section of the Mahabharata progresses, the nuances of Krishna’s plot against his number one enemy reveal themselves. Dressed as snataka (graduating) brahmins, Krishna, Arjuna and Bhima travel eastwards, towards the capital city of the Magadha empire. Their attire has a specific purpose - Jarasandha cannot be outright aggressive with brahmins, and thus the attire ensures that Krishna gets to have a conversation when the three meet Jarasandha. The path from Indraprastha to Magadha goes through several other kingdoms, so a brahman disguise is also a way to pass through unimpeded. It is not the first time that Bhima and Arjuna have approached a king in brahmin attire - they did they same when they went for Draupadi’s swayamvara in the capital of the Panchala kingdom. Just as in Drupada’s court, the brahman disguise shall provide some initial security to them.

The capital of Magadha is surrounded by five fortified hills, and the trio break through one of these to enter the city, where a procession in the honour of king Jarasandha - with him at the center - is taking place. To draw attention, the three snataka brahmans adorn themselves with garlands and smear aloe paste on their bodies. Jarasandha stops the procession and, after his paying his respects, offers the brahmins a welcome drink. When the three don’t accept it, Jarasandha asks them to have seats and enquires about their true identities. He has noticed that the three brahmans bear kshatriya signs (“your arms bear the marks of wielding bowstrings”). Krishna then begins an argument by saying that Jarasandha’s capture of kshatriya kings and his desire to sacrifice them all in the name of Shiva is not an act of dharma. Jarasandha has a different point of view, whereby he sees himself as a kshatriya king who is supposed to take other kings under his dominion and do as he wishes with them. Krishna then reveals his own identity and that of the two Pandava brothers, also mentioning that their mission here is to fight Jarasandha and free the kings.

At this point, it is possible for Jarasandha to have the avenging trio slaughtered by his men, but having been irked by Krishna’s temerity in appearing unarmed before him, his own pride makes that option unthinkable. When he is asked to choose who he wants to fight with, Jarasandha’s pride pushes him further to choose the visibly strongest adversary - Bhima.

This very outcome - a wrestling match between Jarasandha and Bhima - is what Krishna had been hoping for from the beginning. Looking back, we see that the tactic of taking a brahman disguise and walking in unarmed, combined with an assumption of Jarasandha’s pride, all but ensures the subsequent chain of events.

The fight between Jarasandha and Bhima continues for fourteen days. After the Pandava kills the king of Magadha, Krishna frees the imprisoned kings, all of whom swaer loyalty to Krishna, and thus, by extension, guarantee support for Yudhistira’s rajasuya sacrifice.

After Jarasandha’s death, the Pandavas begin campaigns to establish their sovereignty over kingdoms across the Indian subcontinent. There is irony here, as they have set out on the same path - of subjugating other kings and extracting tributes - as Jarasandha, whom Krishna had chastised for his treatment of other kings. But irony is typically unrecognised in the epic, and the basic assumption is that backed by Krishna, the Pandavas are the righteous ones. Nevertheless, their imperial aspirations, and the battles required to sustain those, should dispel notions that the their kingdom was a peace-loving one.

King Yudhistira himself doesn’t step out of the capital; it is his four brothers who lead armies in four different directions. Again, the irony implicit in the fact that someone called dharmaraja, or the king of ethics and good conduct, is more often than not a man who drives his aspirations by proxy, and is otherwise a model only for indecision (recall his dithering at the prospect of killing Jarasandha) and inaction (he hasn’t engaged in any battle himself), is lost not only on Yudhistira’s brothers, but the epic itself.

Arjun goes north and subjugates every kingdom in his path, eventually reaching the inner sanctums of the high Himalayas and knocking (literally) on the doors of the divine kingdoms there. Bhima, who goes east, is similarly successful, but his case is more interesting, for he encounters Karna, the ruler of Anga (present-day Bengal). There is no mention of a battle between these two great warriors, but it is given that Karna accepted subjugation and gave tribute to Bhima. This is mind-boggling, for Karna’s allegiances are expected to lie with the kingdom of Hastinapura, run by Dhritarashtra and Duryodhana, rather than the kingdom of Indraprastha.

It is likely that the Pandava campaigns of conquest were being run in the joint name of the Kuru family, a name that included the Kauravas in it. If true, this would also help avoid the awkward scenario of having to ask Duryodhana to pay a tribute to Yudhistira. As it happens, the Digvijaya section - detailing the conquests of the Pandavas - names dozens of kingdoms but makes no mention of Hastinapura.

Going westward, Nakul has the easiest pass among the brothers, for most of the kingdoms there have been previously conquered by Krishna and accept subjugation readily. It is Sahadeva, who goes southward, who faces the most trouble. On the outskirts of the city of Mahishmati, a forest fire engulfs his army and causes much damage. Sahadeva learns that the god of fire, Agni, has pledged to protect Mahishmati (as retribution for having congressed with king Nila’s daughter in the guise of a brahmin). Nakul genuflects before Agni, and requests the god’s help in ensuring the success of Yudhistira’s ‘sacrifice’. The peace between king Nila and Sahadeva is eventually brokered by Agni himself, and the Mahishmati king agrees to pay tribute to the name of Yudhistira.

After the four campaigns are concluded, the ground is set for the rajasuya sacrifice.

As we approach sacrifice, it helps to remember that the Pandavas and Kauravas have had almost fifteen years of peaceful coexistence now. Naturally, all the prominent men in Hastinapura are invited for the sacrifice in Indraprastha, and the cousins are given key responsibilities. Duhshasana, for example, is in charge of food and other objects of pleasure. Duryodhana is in charge of receiving the tribute brought for Yudhistira. Readers who only know the Mahabharata through television serials shall find this image of Duryodhana and Duhshasana, as eager-to-help cousins at a grand party, difficult to conjure. But the abridged view is perhaps not so bad, for we soon learn that Duryodhana’s act is put-on, and that he is being eaten alive by envy.

The events at the sacrifice pan out such that the supremacy of the Kuru family is reasserted on all the kings of the world, along with a special emphasis on the family’s rock-solid alliance with Krishna and his concomitant Yadavas. What sort of supremacy have the Kurus achieved, though, if, just before beginning the sacrifice, Yudhistira finds it necessary to ask for Krishna’s permission? The strongest argument for this, even in the text, is Krishna’s divinity. Krishna is not only a relative of the family; he is, quite simply, God. This assertion is politically charged, for almost no other royal family or king agrees with this view of Krishna.

When the first offering from Yudhistira’s rajasuya sacrifice is made to Krishna, Shishupala - king of Chedi, and a relative of the erstwhile king of Magadha, Jarasandha - raises questions of the propriety of the gesture. According to Shishupala, it is adharma to make the first offering to Krishna before his own father, Vasudeva; or before Drupada, who ensures the welfare of the Pandavas; or before Drona, who is the Pandavas’ preceptor; or before Dvaipayana, who is the sacrificial priest for the rajasuya. His logic cannot be argued against, unless one claims that Krishna is divine and therefore has the first right over the offerings. Bhishma provides this explanation, but Shishupala rejects it and starts what can only be called a contest of insults. My favorite is when he ridicules Bhishma by saying: “With you at the forefront, it is but natural that the Kouravas should be like a boat tied to a boat”.

Krishna eventually kills Shishupala with the sudarshana chakra. A great energy exits the corpse and merges into Krishna. The graphic event proves Krishna’s divinity to the kings, and validates the Kurus’ treatment of him.

After the successful rajasuya sacrifice, things change rapidly, and for the worse. The first intimation of the oncoming change of times - from dwapara yuga to kali yuga, say - and its concomitant reduction in moral values is perceived by Vidura, brother to king Dhritarashtra and the chief advisor to the throne of Hastinapura. This is after Dhritarashtra, egged on by Duryodhana and Shakuni, orders the construction of a grand sabha for gambling. Call it a casino if you will, but the sabha’s purpose is more specific than that word can denote: to receive Yudhistira, entice him to a game of dice, and to make him lose everything that he has gained after the rajasuya sacrifice.

This conspiracy, simplistic as it may seem, is based on an insight that Shakuni has about the person that is Yudhistira. Shakuni knows that as far as games of dice go, Yudhistira might have the passion but not the skill and cunning. Shakuni himself, on the other hand, is a master: “... the bow and arrows are my dice… the carpet is my chariot,” he says. But it is not Yudhistira’s ineptitude that is giving Shakuni all the confidence - it is the general indecision that king of Indraprastha is known for. When one starts gambling, the big decision is not of continuing, but of stopping. Yudhistira, being indecisive, won’t be able to stop - that is Shakuni’s hypothesis. He could be wrong, and therefore one could say that the entire Kaurava strategy is in fact a glorified bet - Duryodhana wagering on the accuracy of his uncle’s insight into the enemy’s psyche. It is a good bet, though, for there is no apparent downside for Hastinapura’s prince. Also, given his blazing envy and colossal self-doubt after having seen all the riches donated to Yudhistira at the rajasuya sacrifice (Duryodhana was made in-charge of receiving tributes in that ceremony, a particularly cruel move by Yudhistira), it would seem that Duryodhana has nothing to lose. In fact, before Shakuni comes up with the gambling suggestion, there are hints about Duryodhana contemplating suicide. “If I cannot equal him (Yudhistira), what is the point of being alive today" - this is a sentiment that he repeats quite a few times.

After the casino in Hastinapura is made, Dhritarashtra commands Vidura to go to Indraprastha and invite Yudhistira. Though he sees only doom in this, Vidura complies with the king’s wishes. With his sympathies towards the Pandavas, though, Vidura not only delivers the official invite but also conveys his apprehensions about gambling itself, how it might lead to quarrels. Yudhistira is, of course, in no position to decline Dhritarashtra’s invite. His pride, he knows, will also ensure that he cannot refuse the dice game if a challenge were thrown to him by Shakuni or someone else. There is a note of rejection in his voice as the Pandava troupe leaves for Hastinapura. He blames Destiny, who “robs us of reason, like a glare falling before the eye.” It is unclear if he’s talking of the Kauravas, or conveying a premonition about himself.

At the beginning of the infamous dice game in the Mahabharata, Yudhistira expresses two reservations. The first is about the possibility of him being cheated against. One presumes that Shakuni carries a certain reputation, and that Yudhistira is well aware of it. The astonishing thing is that Yudhistira agrees to play the game despite Shakuni not denying the possibility of malfeasance. In fact, Shakuni gives a blatantly specious argument, saying “The learned triumph over the non-learned only through trickery.” This is probably also meant as an insult, an insinuation that Yudhistira is non-learned. It works, as Yudhistira’s response is: “Once challenged, I will not withdraw.”

Yudhistira’s second reservation is about Duryodhana playing the game in proxy, through Shakuni. But it is not that Yudhistira strongly demands that Duryodhana play the game himself. One reads in Yudhistira’s dialogue a sense of helplessness, even a hint of resignation, an acceptance of the possibility of doom. But the paradox is that this feeling can originate only if we grant enough self-consciousness and intelligence to him - in other words, Yudhistira is intelligent enough to foresee his own colossal stupidity.

Yudhistira’s series of bets may denote the value system in mythic times. He first bets a beautiful chain of gems, then his royal chariot, covered in tiger skin and drawn by eight horses. Then a thousand elephants. Then a hundred thousand slave girls. Then ‘thousands’ of male slaves. Then an equal number of chariots. Then gandharva horses. Then more chariots. Then four hundred treasure chests…

A pause here for the slave girls, who, it must be noted, are staked multiple rounds before we even move to what can be called the business end of the gambling match. We are, without doubt, talking not of any golden period in myth or history, but of a time when women were infinitely lower than men in civil structures, and when slavery, for sex or physical labour, was rife.

Seeing Yudhistira’s seemingly interminable series of losses, and the prospect of deep-set enmity between the cousins, Vidura addresses Dhritarashtra with a plea that the king of Hastinapura abandon Duryodhana, seeing how evil the eldest Kaurava has turned out to be. Vidura does not equivocate, and tells Dhritarashtra that certain ruination awaits if Duryodhana is allowed to continue to engage the Pandavas in the gambling match: “... in this overdone deed is created a war that will lead to the destruction of all men.”

But Dhritarashtra is so elated by his son’s victories that he loses all pretense of solidarity with the Pandavas. He accuses Vidura of taking sides with the ‘enemy’, calls his chief advisor a serpent, and, much like the ‘go to Pakistan’ calls of our age, even asks him to ‘go wherever he wishes’.

In the meanwhile, Yudhistira has increased the stakes of the game to a level where he now bets his country. The slide from here will ensure him staking his brothers one after the other, then himself, and then, ultimately, Draupadi.

Here we arrive at what is the most crucial point in the Sabha parva, or perhaps the whole story - the utter humiliation of Draupadi in a sabha full of royal Kuru men and their advisors. At no earlier point in my reading have I been more moved (enraged, perhaps, is the better word) than I was after reading the Dyuta Parva of the epic, in which the atrocious dice game is described. In this country today, if it is a fact that a majority of the sexual violence faced by women is inside their own homes, then the story of Draupadi’s humiliation in an assembly hall filled with her husbands and her in-laws is a testament to how deep-rooted the notion of treating women as chattel is.

It might not be correct to look at mythology with a 21st century lens, true. But the Mahabharata, I feel, has never been just mythology. Even if we ignore the insistence of some people to call it history (and we should, given that these people often go to absurd lengths to ‘create’ facts for their case, fueling belief in notions like the usage of nuclear weapons in the war, or the impregnation of women through divine energy, and so on), the fact that there exists an entire contemporary literature focused on refurbishing the Mahabharata as relevant to our times, whole bookshelves of semi-scholarly or commercial work intent on keeping the story ‘alive’, even to transpose its tactical or strategic maneuvers as management lessons for the modern corporate workplace, it is crucial that no part of it that is unacceptable as per current value systems be allowed to be inherited as is, without condemnation. And there is nothing in the Mahabharata deserving more condemnation than the toxic masculinity that results in Draupadi’s humiliation at the hands of the Kauravas.

What saves Draupadi is not Krishna’s extension of her garment but the paradox that she poses to the entire assembly, which is in turn based on two axioms. First, that wives are their husband’s property. And the second, that slaves can’t own property. If Yudhistira has lost himself in the game and become a slave to the Kauravas, how can he then bet Draupadi, who does not belong to him anymore. Yudhistira has to accept that he lied when he bet himself, or accept that he has lost his right on Draupadi. Since the first is impossible, it follows that at this point in the story, unless the Kauravas reject the Pandavas’ servitude, Draupadi has been technically freed of her marriage with the five brothers.

I almost wish things had stayed this way.

It is Dhritarashtra who mitigates some of the tension by granting Draupadi's husbands their freedom, and also restoring the Pandavas’ kingdom and riches. But this pacification comes too late, for by then, Bhima has already taken the vow to kill Duhshasana and Duryodhana. Fearing that they are not ready for an immediate war, the Kauravas approach Dhritarashtra and demand that he call the Pandavas back for one last roll of the dice. Shakuni’s proposal is to stake a twelve-year stay in the jungle, followed by another year spent in compulsory disguise. Dhritarashtra, forever partial to his sons, agrees to this. And thus the Pandavas are called back to the sabha for one last roll of the dice. Even then, Yudhistira doesn’t decline the challenge.

The inevitable happens, and the Pandavas are asked to be exiled. But that there will be a war in the fourteenth year is now a conclusion beyond doubt . All the Pandavas, save Yudhistira, pledge it: added to Bhima vows is Arjuna’s pledge to kill Karna and Sahadeva’s pledge to kill Shakuni.

If one thinks tactically, the exile of the Pandavas is a better move for the Kauravas than the mere appropriation of their property. Making the Pandavas poor would not have made them lose their alliances with the Yadava kings (even if Krishna had decided to be neutral) and king Drupada. An immediate war would have ensued. This is why Dhritarastra’s generosity to the Pandavas after their losses in the first dice tournament is a good thing for the Kauravas - it grants them a moment to step back from their inebriation with an illusory victory and rethink their tactics. The bone-chilling howls of Bhima, baying for Duhshasana’s blood, would have helped too. They at least explain why it is Duhshasana who goes to Dhritarashtra with the proposal of one last roll of dice with exile at stake.

The Pandava exile defers the war, granting the Kauravas two critical advantages. First, they have twelve years to consolidate their position and to renegotiate their alliances. Indraprastha, one assumes, will come into their direct command. But the most critical aspect might be the time it grants them to break some of the Yadava kings in their favour. The second advantage is through the possibility of running a manhunt in the thirteenth year and defer the war by a further twelve years - an outcome that would, inevitably, crush any chances of a Pandava comeback.

Duhshasana is villainous, though, and wants the best of both outcomes. When the Pandavas prepare to leave, he offers Draupadi to abandon them and choose someone among the Kauravas as her husband. Draupadi, angry beyond measure, curses the entire Kaurava clan, announcing that in the fourteenth year from now, the royal women will weep as all the men and their sons will be vanished from the face of the earth.

Given Draupadi’s origin story, her status of being born from a fire, her words are taken as prophecy.