EPILOGUE
The war was over!
The battlefield as expected by
Arjuna was a mire of blood and flesh pulp. All enemies had been killed without
a trace. All soldiers on both sides were wounded or dead. Streets were filled
with wailing women and children. Paandavas were victorious. But no garlands
awaited them. Curses flew from every mouth. They themselves were not happy
about the victory. Their own sons were dead.
And Arjuna?
He had changed a lot. He looked
much older than he actually was. Streak of worry creased his forehead. He looked
completely broken down. He was remembering again and again the death of his
dear son Abhimanyu. He experienced on his own person, the stabbing wounds dealt
by the cruel cousins of his and his own Guru Dronaachaarya on his innocent son
of tender age. He felt disgusted with one and all. He was disgusted with his
own dark hued friend also.
Yes! Arjuna had changed!
He felt somehow that his
dark-hued friend was the cause of all the calamities that had occurred in his
life. He was sure that Krishna had purposely
had pushed Abhimanyu to his untimely death. Otherwise he would not have led
Arjuna away from the battlefield and left Abhimanyu to fend for himself.
He hated Krishna
now.
Forgotten were all the scenes
before the battlefield.
Forgotten were all the philosophies
discussed at the commencement of the war.
Forgotten was the ‘Divine Song’!
How could it happen? How could
such a friendship break down?
Why not?
All those who attend discourses
on philosophy do not realize; they do not change instantly into saints as if by
magic. Arjuna was after all human!
*****
He had gone to congratulate his
victorious cousins. But the scene there was like a mourning arena!
Everyone of the family was
huddled in some dark corner lost in their own gloomy interiors. Womenfolk had
cried so much that most of them had fainted into peaceful unconscious states.
No one had greeted their dark
cousin! Everyone ignored him willfully!
Yudhishtira had welcomed him
with a faint smile and walked away as if busy. Bheema had bent his head in
embarrassment as if ashamed of seeing this unperturbed Sage who was the cause
of every tear that flowed there. Draupadi turned her face away as if in fear;
maybe she was afraid that this Yogi may cause more disasters in the future.
He had extended both his hands
to embrace his dear friend in a tight grip and forget all the hurts he had
received so far from the other members of the family. But Arjuna had rudely
pushed him away and had glared at him angrily. Without speaking even a word, he
had walked away. Krishna had followed him
calling his name repeatedly to stop and talk to him. But Arjuna had never
turned back. He had soon disappeared into the garden groves. Krishna
had returned crestfallen. Nobody had bothered about him. No one had, had even
the courtesy to give him a polite conversation. Krishna
had known at that moment that he was no more wanted by that esteemed family of
Kurus. His own words to Arjuna at the battlefield rang in his mind.
I DO NOT FORSAKE THOSE WHO DO NOT
FORSAKE ME!
They had forsaken him now.
He had nothing more to do with
any members of the Kuru family.
His thoughts were disturbed by a
sudden pain on the forehead. Some child had thrown a stone on him. His face was
bleeding. Some old voice cursed him and his birth.
He walked and walked; not
knowing his destination. He was soon in a forest; very deep forest which he had
not visited in all his life.
He walked day and night without
stopping.
Somewhere his body collapsed and
he fainted. When he woke up, a kind hunter was feeding some honeyed water into
his dried up lips. Krishna felt all his
emotions burst out suddenly. He held on to the dark sweaty body of the hunter
and wept. Then he got up; gave away all his jewelry and royal garments to the hunter
in exchange for a simple bark garment. He thanked the kind hunter and walked
away.
The hunter was unfortunately
mauled by a wild animal of the forest. Someone identified the royal garments he
wore as Krishna ’s! News spread that the
Yaadava chieftain was dead and killed by some hunter and that his body had
become a prey to some wild animals. Some said that the hunters shot him in the
leg when he was sleeping under the tree. Many more stories circulated as per
their whims and fancies. Many even saw a magical light streaking through the
sky.
Paandavas performed the funeral
rites for the dead Krishna in their city.
Nobody wondered as to how could
a Yogi who knew the happenings of the past, present and future die suddenly
like that or just get killed by a hunter’s arrow?
They believed that he was dead. May
be they wanted to believe that he was dead.
They felt relieved that it was all
over.
A powerful neutral friend was as
bad as an enemy, they might have thought!
Sage Vyaasa did not bother to
mention the truth about Krishna ’s final days and
betray his friend’s secret. He left the matter at that.
The living Krishna ?
He walked away!
The world had forsaken him!
He had forsaken it!
The dark forest embraced him
with affection like a mother.
He was soon lost in its dark
womb.
END OF THE SONG?
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