What was the relationship between Yudhistar and Draupadi? The Mahabharata is an intricate web of stories with a central narrative of the great war between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. But as much as it reveals, it leaves even more to the imagination. One of the questions that has long intrigued me is the uneasy equation between her and Dharmaraja Yudhishtar. She was won in a svayamvara by the dashing Arjuna, whose skill with the bow and arrow was legendary. She was delighted and looked forward to marrying him. 

What was the relationship between Yudhistar and Draupadi? The Mahabharata is an intricate web of stories with a central narrative of the great war between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. But as much as it reveals, it leaves even more to the imagination. One of the questions that has long intrigued me is the uneasy equation between her and Dharmaraja Yudhishtar. She was won in a svayamvara by the dashing Arjuna, whose skill with the bow and arrow was legendary. She was delighted and looked forward to marrying him. 

But as we all know, when the brothers returned home with her, their mother Kunti, waiting for her sons to return, and not seeing what they had brought with them, pronounced the words written in stone: ‘All of you, enjoy what has been obtained’. On realising her mistake, she did not withdraw her words, but left the decision to Yudhishtar, the eldest of the five Pandava brothers. And, as the Mahabharata candidly recounts, as he thought of what to do, his eyes fell on the ravishing beauty of Draupadi, crushing his senses. He saw too his brothers looking at her, the fires of Kama singeing their eyes. Then he pronounced: Draupadi shall be the common wife of us all’.

What made Yudhishtara, renowned for his sense of honesty, justice and fair play, take this decision? And how did Draupadi react to it? And what impact did this make on the relationship between the two, especially after Yudhishtara gambled away his kingdom, his wealth, and her, in a rigged game of dice to the Kauravas?

These are some of the unstated themes I explore in my long poem in fourteen-line sonnets, Yudhishtar and Draupadi, published by Penguin in 1996. The book was written in the womb of the long snow-bound winter of Moscow when I was posted there in Moscow. It is a muse, on two complex people at the centre of the Mahabharata. What was the reaction of Yudhishtar when he first set his sights on Draupadi?

When he first saw her, composed as a hymn,

At her own glittering svayamvara,

He’d thought that a flower, broken from its limb,

Is bound to the course of any river.

Was it the shimmer on her face?

Or the curve of her lovely waist?

Or her movement so full of grace?

What was it that laid him waste?

Desire, beyond the sieve of guilt, is like water:

It will find its own level.

And, O, truthful one, the strongest vow is prisoner

To one renegade cell.

A resolve once made can also wilt.

When conventions are broken and not rebuilt.

Draupadi, daughter of Dhrupad, king of the Panchalas, was born from the flames of the sacrificial fire, her complexion dark as the wood fuelling the flames. A celestial voice had then proclaimed: ‘This beautiful girl will be the first of all women, and the cause of the destruction of many a kshatriya!’ Draupadi wanted vengeance, for she was made of a different mettle:

She was not a sort of commodity

To be casually divided by a clan

They couldn’t assume such authority

And parcel her out with such elan.

Light refracted through a crystal lens

A river roiling through her myriad tributaries

Glorious in her effulgence

She was Draupadi, wreathed in mysteries

Virtuous as Uma, elusive as Saraswati,

Kali’s revenge, Usha’s foil;

Rati personified, undaunted as Sati,

Blessed by Parvati, Shakti’s coil.

She could not submerge placidly in the Pandava sea.

She was a goddess on fire, refulgent and free.

The poem ends with a reconciliation between Yudhishtar and Draupadi, but only when he wins her respect, because love can only follow respect. That happens when Yudhihtar behaves like a true king, dispassionate, courageous and compassionate, in the compellingly brilliant section in the Mahabharata of the Yaksha Prashna. The last lines of my poem are:

He was, at this moment, beyond anger or greed,

Willing to give more than all he received.

And she, queen of the Pandavas, beyond want or need,

Vengeful, forgiving, victorious in defeat.

Two pigeons at rest on the cornice of time.

A man, a woman, the world’s pantomime.

I am very privileged that this work was translated into Hindustani by Gulzar, who also wrote a play on it— Paansa. The noted kathak dancer, Shovana Narayan, with theatre personality Sunit Tandon, also did an enactment of it, as did Prithvi theatres.

Books have their own destiny. But of one thing I am sure, there are more such books waiting to be written on some of the tantalising questions and dilemmas that the great epic Mahabharata throws up.

Ambassador CR Gharekhan and His Passion for Classical Music

Chinmaya Gharekhan was a very illustrious diplomat. I got to know him well in New York, when I was posted there as first secretary in India’s Permanent Mission to the United Nations, and he was my boss as the head of Mission. But I had no idea that his secret passion, beyond his profile as an accomplished diplomat, was classical music. 

Last week, Gharekhan, now almost 89 years of age, gave a scintillating performance of Indian classical music at the India International Centre. The hall was packed, including many from the foreign service fraternity. May there be many more years of music for you Gharekhan sir!

Pavan K Varma is author, diplomat, and former Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha).

Just Like That is a weekly column where Varma shares nuggets from the world of history, culture, literature, and personal reminiscences with HT Premium readers

The views expressed are personal