National Epics by Kate Milner Rabb

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It is held in even higher regard than the Ramayana, and the reading of it
is supposed to confer upon the happy reader every good and perfect gift.

BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM, THE MAHA-BHARATA.

G.W. Cox's Mythology and Folklore, 1881, p. 313;

John Dowson's Classical Dictionary of Hindu Mythology, Religion,
Geography, History, and Literature, 1879;

F. Max Mueller's Ancient Sanskrit Literature, 1859 (Introduction);

E. A. Reed's Hindu Literature, 1891, pp. 272-352;

Albrecht Weber's History of Indian Literature, 1878, pp. 184-191;

J. T. Wheeler's History of India, 4 vols., 1876, vol. ii.;

J. C. Oman's Great Indian Epics, 1874, pp. 87-231;

T. Goldstuecker's Hindu Epic Poetry; the Maha-Bharata Literary Remains,
1879, (vol. ii., pp. 86-145);

M. Macmillan's Globe-trotter in India, 1815, p. 193;

J. Peile's Notes on the Tales of Nala, 1882;

C. J. Stone's Cradle-land of Arts and Creeds, 1880, pp. 36-49;

H. H. Wilson's Introduction to the Maha-Bharata and a Translation of three
Extracts (in his Works, vol. iii., p. 277); Westminster Review, 1868, vol.
xxxiii., p. 380.

STANDARD ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS, THE MAHA-BHARATA.

The Maha-Bharata, Selections from the, Tr. by Sir Edwin Arnold, in his
Indian Poetry, 1886; in his Indian Idylls, 1883;

Nala and Damayanti and other Poems, Tr. from the Maha-Bharata by
H. H. Milman, (his translation of the Story of Nala is edited with notes by
Monier Williams, 1879);

Metrical translations from Sanskrit writers by John Muir, 1879, pp. 13-37;

Last Days of Krishna, Tr. from the Maha-Bharata Price (Oriental
Translation Fund: Miscellaneous Translations);

The Maha-Bharata, an English Prose Translation with notes, by Protap
Chandra Roy, Published in one hundred parts, 1883-1890;

Asiatic Researches, Tr. by H. H. Wilson, from the Maha-Bharata vol. xv.,
p. 101;

Translations of episodes from the Maha-Bharata, in Scribner's Monthly,
1874, vol. vii., p. 385;

International Review, vol. x., pp. 36, 297; Oriental Magazine, Dec., 1824,
March, Sept., 1825, Sept., 1826.

THE STORY OF THE MAHA-BHARATA.

Long ago there dwelt in India two great Rajas who were brothers, the Raja
Pandu and the blind Raja, Dhritarashtra. The former had five noble sons
called the Pandavas, the eldest of whom was Yudhi-sthira, the second
Bhima, the third Arjuna, and the youngest, twin sons, Nakalu and Sahadeva.
All were girted in every way, but Arjuna was especially noble in form and
feature.

The blind Raja had a family of one hundred sons, called the Kauravas from
their ancestor, Kura. The oldest of these was Duryodhana, and the bravest,
Dhusasana.

Before the birth of Pandu's sons, he had left his kingdom in charge of
Dhrita-rashtra, that he might spend his time in hunting in the forests on
the slopes of the Himalayas. After his death Dhrita-rashtra continued to
rule the kingdom; but on account of their claim to the throne, he invited
the Pandavas and their mother to his court, where they were trained,
together with his sons, in every knightly exercise.

There was probably jealousy between the cousins from the beginning, and
when their teacher, Drona, openly expressed his pride in the wonderful
archery of Arjuna, the hatred of the Kauravas was made manifest. No
disturbance occurred, however, until the day when Drona made a public
tournament to display the prowess of his pupils.

The contests were in archery and the use of the noose and of clubs. Bhima,
who had been endowed by the serpent king with the strength of ten thousand
elephants, especially excelled in the use of the club, Nakalu was most
skillful in taming and driving the horse, and the others in the use of the
sword and spear. When Arjuna made use of the bow and the noose the
plaudits with which the spectators greeted his skill so enraged the
Kauravas that they turned the contest of clubs, which was to have been a
friendly one, into a degrading and blood-shedding battle. The spectators
left the splendid lists in sorrow, and the blind Raja determined to
separate the unfriendly cousins before further harm could come from their
rivalry.

Before this could be done, another event increased their hostility. Drona
had agreed to impart to the Kauravas and the Pandavas his skill in
warfare, on condition that they would conquer for him his old enemy, the
Raja of Panchala. On account of their quarrel the cousins would not fight
together, and the Kauravas, marching against the Raja, were defeated. On
their return, the Pandavas went to Panchala, and took the Raja prisoner.

After Yudhi-sthira had been appointed Yuva-Raja, a step Dhrita-rashtra was
compelled by the people of Hastinapur to take, the Kauravas declared that
they could no longer remain in the same city with their cousins.

A plot was laid to destroy the Pandavas, the Raja's conscience having been
quieted by the assurances of his Brahman counsellor that it was entirely
proper to slay one's foe, be he father, brother, or friend, openly or by
secret means. The Raja accordingly pretended to send his nephews on a
pleasure-trip to a distant province, where he had prepared for their
reception a "house of lac," rendered more combustible by soaking in
clarified butter, in which he had arranged to have them burned as if by
accident, as soon as possible after their arrival.

All Hastinapur mourned at the departure of the Pandavas, and the princes
themselves were sad, for they had been warned by a friend that
Dhrita-rashtra had plotted for their destruction. They took up their abode
in the house of lac, to which they prudently constructed a subterranean
outlet, and one evening, when a woman with five sons attended a feast of
their mother's, uninvited, and fell into a drunken sleep, they made fast
the doors, set fire to the house, and escaped to the forest. The bodies of
the five men and their mother were found next day, and the assurance was
borne to Hastinapur that the Pandavas and their mother Kunti had perished
by fire.

The five princes, with their mother, disguised as Brahmans, spent several
years wandering through the forests, having many strange adventures and
slaying many demons. While visiting Ekachakra, which city they freed from
a frightful rakshasa, they were informed by the sage Vyasa that Draupadi,
the lovely daughter of the Raja Draupada of Panchala, was going to hold a
Svayamvara in order to select a husband. The suitors of a princess
frequently attended a meeting of this sort and took part in various
athletic contests, at the end of which the princess signified who was most
pleasing to her, usually the victor in the games, by hanging around his
neck a garland of flowers.

Vyasa's description of the lovely princess, whose black eyes were large as
lotus leaves, whose skin was dusky, and her locks dark and curling, so
excited the curiosity of the Pandavas that they determined to attend the
Svayamvara. They found the city full of princes and kings who had come to
take part in the contest for the most beautiful woman in the world. The
great amphitheatre in which the games were to take place was surrounded by
gold and jewelled palaces for the accommodation of the princes, and with
platforms for the convenience of the spectators.

After music, dancing, and various entertainments, which occupied sixteen
days, the contest of skill began. On the top of a tall pole, erected in
the plain, was placed a golden fish, below which revolved a large wheel.
He who sent his arrow through the spokes of the wheel and pierced the eye
of the golden fish was to be the accepted suitor of Draupadi.

When the princes saw the difficulty of the contest, many of them refused
to enter it; as many tried it only to fail, among them, the Kaurava
Duryodhana. At last Arjuna, still in his disguise, stepped forward, drew
his bow, and sent his arrow through the wheel into the eye of the golden
fish.

Immediately a great uproar arose among the spectators because a Brahman
had entered a contest limited to members of the Kshatriya, or warrior
class. In the struggle which ensued, however, Arjuna, assisted by his
brothers, especially Bhima, succeeded in carrying off the princess, whose
father did not demur.

When the princes returned to their hut they went into the inner room and
informed their mother that they had brought home a prize. Supposing that
it was some game, she told them it would be well to share it equally. The
mother's word was law, but would the gods permit them to share Draupadi?
Their troubled minds were set at rest by Vyasa, who assured them that
Draupadi had five different times in former existences besought Siva for a
good husband. He had refused her requests then, but would now allow her
five husbands at once. The princes were well satisfied, and when the Raja
Draupada learned that the Brahmans were great princes in disguise, he
caused the five weddings to be celebrated in great state.

Not satisfied with this, the Raja at once endeavored to make peace between
the Pandavas and their hostile cousins, and succeeded far enough to induce
Dhrita-rashtra to cede to his nephews a tract of land in the farthest part
of his kingdom, on the river Jumna, where they set about founding a most
splendid city, Indra-prastha.

Here they lived happily with Draupadi, conquering so many kingdoms and
accumulating so much wealth that they once more aroused the jealousy of
their old enemies, the Kauravas. The latter, knowing that it would be
impossible to gain the advantage of them by fair means, determined to
conquer them by artifice, and accordingly erected a large and magnificent
hall and invited their cousins thither, with a great show of friendliness,
to a gambling match.

The Pandavas knew they would not be treated fairly, but as such an
invitation could not be honorably declined by a Kshatriya, they went to
Hastinapur. Yudhi-sthira's opponent was Shakuni, the queen's brother, an
unprincipled man, by whom he was defeated in every game.

Yudhi-sthira staked successively his money, his jewels, and his slaves;
and when these were exhausted, he continued to play, staking his kingdom,
his brothers, and last of all his peerless wife, Draupadi.

At this point, when the excitement was intense, the brutal Dhusasana
commanded Draupadi to be brought into the hall, and insulted her in every
way, to the great rage of the helpless Pandavas, until Dhrita-rashtra,
affrighted by the evil omens by which the gods signified their
disapproval, rebuked Dhusasana for his conduct, and giving Draupadi her
wish, released her husbands and herself and sent them back to their
kingdom.

To prevent the Pandavas from gaining time to avenge their insult, the
Kauravas induced their father to invite their cousins to court to play a
final game, this time the conditions being that the losing party should go
into exile for thirteen years, spending twelve years in the forest and the
thirteenth in some city. If their disguise was penetrated by their enemies
during the thirteenth year, the exile was to be extended for another
thirteen years.

Though they knew the outcome, the Pandavas accepted the second invitation,
and in consequence again sought the forest, not departing without the most
terrible threats against their cousins.

In the forest of Kamyaka, Yudhi-sthira studied the science of dice that he
might not again be defeated so disastrously, and journeyed pleasantly from
one point of interest to another with Draupadi and his brothers, with the
exception of Arjuna, who had sought the Himalayas to gain favor with the
god Siva, that he might procure from him a terrible weapon for the
destruction of his cousins.

After he had obtained the weapon he was lifted into the heaven of the god
Indra, where he spent five happy years. When he rejoined his wife and
brothers, they were visited by the god Krishna and by the sage Markandeya,
who told them the story of the creation and destruction of the universe,
of the flood, and of the doctrine of Karma, which instructs one that man's
sufferings here below are due to his actions in former and forgotten
existences. He also related to them the beautiful story of how the
Princess Savitri had wedded the Prince Satyavan, knowing that the gods had
decreed that he should die within a year; how on the day set for his death
she had accompanied him to the forest, had there followed Yama, the awful
god of death, entreating him until, for very pity of her sorrow and
admiration of her courage and devotion, he yielded to her her husband's
soul.

Near the close of the twelfth year of their exile, the princes, fatigued
from a hunt, sent Nakalu to get some water from a lake which one had
discovered from a tree-top. As the prince approached the lake he was
warned by a voice not to touch it, but thirst overcoming fear, he drank
and fell dead. The same penalty was paid by Sahadeva, Arjuna, and Bhima,
who in turn followed him. Yudhi-sthira, who went last, obeyed the voice,
which, assuming a terrible form, asked the king questions on many subjects
concerning the universe. These being answered satisfactorily, the being
declared himself to be Dharma, the god of justice, Yudhi-sthira's father,
and in token of his affection for his son, restored the princes to life,
and granted them the boon of being unrecognizable during the remaining
year of their exile.

The thirteenth year of their exile they spent in the city of Virata, where
they entered the service of the Raja,--Yudhi-sthira as teacher of
dice-playing, Bhima as superintendent of the cooks, Arjuna as a teacher of
music and dancing to the ladies, Nakalu as master of horse, and Sahadeva
as superintendent of the cattle. Draupadi, who entered the service of the
queen, was so attractive, even in disguise, that Bhima was forced to kill
the queen's brother, Kechaka, for insulting her. This would have caused
the Pandavas' exile from Virata had not their services been needed in a
battle between Virata and the king of the Trigartas.

The Kauravas assisted the Trigartas in this battle, and the recognition,
among the victors, of their cousins, whose thirteenth year of exile was
now ended, added to the bitterness of their defeat.

Their exile over, the Pandavas were free to make preparations for the
great war which they had determined to wage against the Kauravas. Both
parties, anxious to enlist the services of Krishna, sent envoys to him at
the same time. When Krishna gave them the choice of himself or his armies,
Arjuna was shrewd enough to choose the god, leaving his hundreds of
millions of soldiers to swell the forces of the Kauravas.

When their preparations were completed, and the time had come to wreak
vengeance on their cousins, the Pandavas were loath to begin the conflict.
They seemed to understand that, war once declared, there could be no
compromise, but that it must be a war for extinction. But the Kauravas
received their proposals of peace with taunts, and heaped insults upon
their emissary.

When the Pandavas found that there was no hope of peace, they endeavored
to win to their side Karna, who was really a son of Kunti, and hence their
half-brother, though this fact had not been made known to him until he had
long been allied with the Kauravas. In anticipation of this war, the gods,
by a bit of trickery, had robbed Karna of his god-given armor and weapons.
However, neither celestial artifice, the arguments of Krishna, nor the
entreaties of Kunti were able to move Karna from what he considered the
path of duty, though he promised that while he would fight with all his
strength, he would not slay Yudhi-sthira, Bhima, and the twins.

The forces of the two armies were drawn up on the plain of Kuruk-shetra.
The army of the Kauravas was under the command of the terrible Bhishma,
the uncle of Pandu and Dhrita-rashtra, who had governed the country during
the minority of Pandu.

Each side was provided with billions and billions of infantry, cavalry,
and elephants; the warriors were supplied with weapons of the most
dangerous sort. The army of the Kauravas was surrounded by a deep trench
fortified by towers, and further protected by fireballs and jars full of
scorpions to be thrown at the assailants.

As night fell, before the battle, the moon's face was stained with blood,
earthquakes shook the land, and the images of the gods fell from their
places.

The next morning, when Arjuna, from his chariot, beheld the immense army,
he was appalled at the thought of the bloodshed to follow, and hesitated
to advance. Krishna insisted that it was unnecessary for him to lament,
setting forth his reasons in what is known as the Bhagavat-gita, the
divine song, in which he said it was no sin to slay a foe, since death is
but a transmigration from one form to another. The soul can never cease to
be; who then can destroy it? Therefore, when Arjuna slew his cousins he
would merely remove their offensive bodies; their souls, unable to be
destroyed, would seek other habitations. To further impress Arjuna,
Krishna boasted of himself as embodying everything, and as having passed
through many forms. Faith in Krishna was indispensable, for the god placed
faith above either works or contemplation. He next exhibited himself in
his divine form to Arjuna, and the warrior was horror-stricken at the
terrible divinity with countless arms, hands, and heads, touching the
skies. Having been thus instructed by Krishna, Arjuna went forth, and the
eighteen days' battle began.

The slaughter was wholesale; no quarter was asked or given, since each
side was determined to exterminate the other. Flights of arrows were
stopped in mid-air by flights of arrows from the other side. Great maces
were cut in pieces by well-directed darts. Bhima, wielding his great club
with his prodigious strength, wiped out thousands of the enemy at one
stroke, and Arjuna did the same with his swift arrows. Nor were the
Kauravas to be despised. Hundreds of thousands of the Pandavas' followers
fell, and the heroic brothers were themselves struck by many arrows.

Early in the battle the old Bhishma was pierced by so many arrows that,
falling from his chariot, he rested upon their points as on a couch, and
lay there living by his own desire, until long after the battle.

After eighteen days of slaughter, during which the field reeked with blood
and night was made horrible by the cries of the jackals and other beasts
of prey that devoured the bodies of the dead, the Kauravas were all slain,
and the five Pandavas, reconciled to the blind Raja, accompanied him back
to Hastinapur, where Yudhi-sthira was crowned Raja, although the Raj was
still nominally under the rule of his old uncle.

Yudhi-sthira celebrated his accession to the throne by the performance of
the great sacrifice, which was celebrated with the utmost splendor. After
several years the unhappy Dhrita-rashtra retired with his wife to a jungle
on the banks of the Ganges, leaving Yudhi-sthira in possession of the
kingdom. There the Pandavas visited him, and talked over the friends who
had fallen in the great war. One evening the sage Vyasa instructed them to
bathe in the Ganges and then stand on the banks of the river. He then went
into the water and prayed, and coming out stood by Yudhi-sthira and called
the names of all those persons who had been slain at Kuruk-shetra.
Immediately the water began to foam and boil, and to the great surprise
and terror of all, the warriors lost in the great battle appeared in their
chariots, at perfect peace with one another, and cleansed of all earthly
stain. Then the living were happy with the dead; long separated families
were once more united, and the hearts that had been desolate for fifteen
long years were again filled with joy. The night sped quickly by in tender
conversation, and when morning came, all the dead mounted into their
chariots and disappeared. Those who had come to meet them prepared to
leave the river, but with the permission of Vyasa, the widows drowned
themselves that they might rejoin their husbands.

Not long after his return to Hastinapur, Yudhi-sthira heard that the old
Raja and his wife had lost their lives in a jungle-fire; and soon after
this, tidings came to him of the destruction of the city of the Yadavas,
the capital of Krishna, in punishment for the dissipation of its
inhabitants.

Yudhi-sthira's reign of thirty-six years had been a succession of gloomy
events, and he began to grow weary of earth and to long for the blessings
promised above. He therefore determined to make the long and weary
pilgrimage to Heaven without waiting for death. According to the
Maha-Bharata, the earth was divided into seven concentric rings, each of
which was surrounded by an ocean or belt separating it from the next
annular continent. The first ocean was of salt water; the second, of the
juice of the sugar-cane; the third, of wine; the fourth, of clarified
butter; the fifth, of curdled milk; the sixth, of sweet milk; the seventh,
of fresh water. In the centre of this vast annular system Mount Meru rose
to the height of sixty-four thousand miles.

Upon this mountain was supposed to rest the heaven of the Hindus, and
thither Yudhi-sthira proposed to make his pilgrimage. His brothers and
their wife Draupadi insisted on going with him, for all were equally weary
of the world. Their people would fain have accompanied them, but the
princes sent them back and went unaccompanied save by their faithful dog.
They kept on, fired by their high resolves, until they reached the long
and dreary waste of sand that stretched before Mount Meru. There Draupadi
fell and yielded up her life, and Yudhi-sthira, never turning to look
back, told the questioning Bhima that she died because she loved her
husbands better than all else, better than heaven. Next Sahadeva fell,
then Nakalu, and afterwards Arjuna and Bhima. Yudhi-sthira, still striding
on, informed Bhima that pride had slain the first, self-love the second,
the sin of Arjuna was a lie, and Bhima had loved too well the good things
of earth.

Followed by the dog, Yudhi-sthira pushed across the barren sand until he
reached the mount and stood in the presence of the god. Well pleased with
his perseverance, the god promised him the reward of entering into heaven
in his own form, but he refused to go unless the dog could accompany him.
After vainly attempting to dissuade him, the god allowed the dog to assume
its proper form, and lo! it was Dharma, the god of justice, and the two
entered heaven together.

But where were Draupadi and the gallant princes, her husbands?
Yudhi-sthira could see them nowhere, and he questioned only to learn that
they were in hell. His determination was quickly taken. There could be no
heaven for him unless his brothers and their wife could share it with him.
He demanded to be shown the path to hell, to enter which he walked over
razors, and trod under foot mangled human forms. But joy of joys! The
lotus-eyed Draupadi called to him, and his brothers cried that his
presence in hell brought a soothing breeze that gave relief to all the
tortured souls.

Yudhi-sthira's self-sacrifice sufficiently tested, the gods proclaimed
that it was all but an illusion shown to make him enjoy the more, by
contrast, the blisses of heaven. The king Yudhi-sthira then bathed in the
great river flowing through three worlds, and, washed from all sins and
soils, went up, hand in hand with the gods, to his brothers, the Pandavas,
and

"Lotus-eyed and loveliest Draupadi,
Waiting to greet him, gladdening and glad."

SELECTIONS FROM THE MAHA-BHARATA.

SAVITRI, OR LOVE AND DEATH.

The beautiful princess Savitri of her own choice wedded the prince
Satyavan, son of a blind and exiled king, although she knew that he was
doomed by the gods to die within a year. When the year was almost gone,
she sat for several days beneath a great tree, abstaining from food and
drink, and imploring the gods to save him from death. On the fateful day
she accompanied him to the forest to gather the sacred wood for the
evening sacrifice. As he struck the tree with the axe he reeled in pain,
and exclaiming, "I cannot work!" fell fainting.

Thereon that noble lady, hastening near.
Stayed him that would have fallen, with quick arms;
And, sitting on the earth, laid her lord's head
Tenderly in her lap. So bent she, mute,
Fanning his face, and thinking 't was the day--
The hour--which Narad named--the sure fixed date
Of dreadful end--when, lo! before her rose
A shade majestic. Red his garments were,
His body vast and dark; like fiery suns
The eyes which burned beneath his forehead-cloth;
Armed was he with a noose, awful of mien.
This Form tremendous stood by Satyavan,
Fixing its gaze upon him. At the sight
The fearful Princess started to her feet.
Heedfully laying on the grass his head,

Up started she, with beating heart, and joined
Her palms for supplication, and spake thus
In accents tremulous: "Thou seem'st some God;
Thy mien is more than mortal; make me know
What god thou art, and what thy purpose here."

And Yama said (the dreadful god of death):
"Thou art a faithful wife, O Savitri,
True to thy vows, pious, and dutiful;
Therefore I answer thee. Yama I am!
This Prince thy lord lieth at point to die;
Him will I straightway bind and bear from life;
This is my office, and for this I come."

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