Skip to main content

A Game of Dice

Fiction

His heart seethed with envy as he returned to his palace from the Pandava capital.  In spite of all that he had done to eliminate his cousins, they had become more successful and powerful than him. 

“I can feel your heartbeat,” Uncle Shakuni told Duryodhana as they were returning from Indraprastha having attended the rajasuya ceremony meant to proclaim the sovereignty of Yudhishtira.  The envy that wiggled its way like a worm into Duryodhana’s heart during the ceremony had made him so blind that he could not even distinguish between land and water.  He fell into the lake beside the Pandava Palace.  His cousins laughed at him as he was struggling to swim with all the royal robes on.  

Shakuni had helped his insulted and irate nephew come out of the lake without stripping himself of all dignity.  “If the step falters, even the elephant will fall,” Shakuni admonished the merry Pandavas.  The elephant was the royal animal of the Kauravas of Hastinapura, city of the elephant. 

“I want to capture Indraprastha,” said Duryodhana decisively.  “I want the Pandavas out of my sight forever.”

“Don’t you have everything that your heart craves for?” asked Dhritarashtra when Shakuni conveyed prince Duryodhana’s wish to the father king.  “You wear the finest clothes in the kingdom, you eat the meat of the choicest animals, you have the most beautiful women to attend to you in your bedroom, and exotic horses to carry you wherever you wish to go.  What more do you want?”

“Absolute power is the only thing that can satisfy a Kshatriya,” said Duryodhana. “Which Kshatriya can bear the sight of his rival prosper?  The prosperity of the rival is the beginning of my decline.”

Shakuni came to his nephew’s assistance.  We did everything possible to destroy them, he explained.  But they have prospered.  When you divided the kingdom you gave them the arid lands.  And see what they have done with it.  They built up a prosperous kingdom out of the desert.  If you let them go on, they will conquer us one day.  Power is an intoxication.  The more you have it, the more you want. 

Dhritarashtra wavered between dharma and expediency.  Dharma is the path to happiness.  Wielding power is the dharma of the Kshatriya.  What about love for your own kith and kin?  The Pandavas were his own children; how can his brother’s sons be not his own also?  Yet... if they were indeed flourishing more than his own blood, what is his dharma as a Kshatriya?

“Do not hate the Pandavas,” uttered the King feebly.  Obviously he did not believe his own words.  “One who hates is inviting death.”

“Death is preferable to life without dignity,” asserted Duryodhana.  “The Pandavas have aroused my indignation.  Discontent lies at the root of prosperity.  Only he who reaches for the heights, King my father, is the ultimate politician.  Power makes us selfish.  One cannot be both powerful and magnanimous.”

Shakuni knew that Dhritarashtra was a hypocrite.  The words about dharma came from his lips and not his heart.  He had the Kshatriya’s heart, a heart that craves for more and more power.  Relentless craving lies in the heart of every Kshatriya.  Shakuni suggested a solution.  A game of dice.  Yudhishtira had a weakness for gambling though he did not know the game properly.  Yudhishtira was a weak man.  A weak Kshatriya finds his intoxication in proxy wars.  Gambling is a proxy war.  We’ll challenge Yudhishtira to a game of dice, said Shakuni.  He will have to accept it not only because of his addiction to the game but also because it is a ritual to play the game as part of the rajasuya ceremony. 

Shakuni was a master of the game.  Yudhishtira understood as soon as he received the challenge that he was going to go down a pit.  The Kauravas were digging his pit.  But he could not decline the challenge.  He was a king and it was a king’s dharma to take up challenges. 

Dhritarashtra watched with increasing glee how his nephew was losing and how his son, through the medium of Shakuni, was winning everything that belonged to the Pandavas.  Defeating another is an exhilarating experience, he realised.  His son was right after all.  This is the dharma of the warrior: not merely to be content with what one has but also grab what the other has.  Conquest is the real intoxication. 

The game became a passion for Yudhishtira.  In gambling, the more you lose, the greater your passion.  Passion becomes a fever, a disease that eats into your heart.  With every loss your desire to capture back all that you have lost becomes stronger. 

The dices were loaded.  Yudhishtira could never see that.  Shakuni was too clever for Yudhishtira.  Dhritarashtra’s dharma had disappeared even from his lips which now bore a greedy grin.  It was as if he wished to swallow the entire Pandava kingdom. 

Shakuni roared with mirth.  “We have won. We have won.  There is only your beautiful wife left now,” he told the sullen and stunned Yudhishtira.  “Stake her.  You can win her back and win yourself back too in the bargain.”

“Yes, I stake my Draupadi,” stated Yudhishtira’s intoxication.   

The man who had no authority over himself, the man who had lost himself in gambling, the king who had become a slave staked his wife, who was not just his own wife.  Is that a Kshatriya dharma too?  Yudhishtira had neither the time nor the inclination for such considerations. 

Duryodhana was already gloating.  He was imagining what he would do with the charming Draupadi.  He could not wait to crush her in his muscular arms.

Yudhishtira groaned at the bottom of the pit he had dug for himself. Is life a game of dice?  You don’t know why you are playing it.  You don’t know when you entered the game, why you did, and when you have to quit.  Does the god of fate load the dice? 

His father, Pandu, had his own flings with the game until it bored him and he quit.  He abdicated the throne and went into the forest to become a hermit.  Is hermitage another game of dice?  Or is it escapism?  Is escapism wrong?  What is noble about the Kshatriya dharma?  Isn’t hermitage a nobler dharma? 

Yudhishtira brooded.  He has now to follow in his father’s footsteps by necessity, not by choice.  He has to learn the lessons of life the hard way while Duryodhana would take possession of all the grandeur that he and his brothers had built up in Indraprastha.  Victory and defeat: what do they mean?  Dharma and adharma: what do they mean? The forests in alien lands were beckoning Yudhishtira.  The forests would teach him the lessons that he had failed to learn at the appropriate times. 

Comments

  1. You have narrated it very beautifully :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. I really liked the conversations you weaved in the story, it makes it so interesting. If life is a game a dice, i was wondering if we become more passionate the more we lose. Sometimes we just tend to give up and move on. I really liked the characters thought process you have portrayed through your words. Nice post Tomichand.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The Mahabharata is an amazing work, Shweta. Each time you read it, it can inspire you in different ways. Not simply does it boast that there is nothing elsewhere what is not in it!

      I'm planning a series of stories based on the epic.

      By the way, my name does not have a 'd' at the end. :)

      Delete
  3. Interesting, impressive and thought-provoking... Sorrow provides a depth in personality. Great kings either Rama or Yudhishtira spent a long duration of their life in forest as a symbol.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Suffering along with self-knowledge, that's the real secret of wisdom. Suffering per se is useless and even dangerous. Otherwise we would have had a lot of saints in India since there are more slums and such places here than elsewhere and suffering is abundant in such places.

      Delete
  4. You narrated it so well. One can learn so much from the Mahabharata, there is a lesson to be learned in each and ever aspect of it :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The Mahabharata teaches us much. I'm beginning a series of stories based on it. Of course, just a few stories like this one. Glad you liked it.

      Delete
  5. Mahabharata the eternal,story of human struggle for power, for greed, ability to follow the path of dharma, continuous battle between right and not so right. Finally, hermitage is not necessarily escapism. When one wants to escape cycles that life and death throws at us, one may want to stand outside and not participate. I think that is hermitage.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, Abhijit, the Mahabharata is an eternal story. That's why it is an epic that will continue to sustain the interests of readers of all time.

      Whether hermitage is an act of escapism depends on the person who undertakes it, I think. It can be a running away in some cases. But it can also be a genuine 'standing out', as you say.

      Delete
  6. I loved Yudhistir's soliloquy. Life is but a game of dice and you are addicted to some or the other. even Hermitage is an addiction.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Datta, would you draw a distinction between an 'addiction' and a 'passion'?

      Delete
    2. Passion is another form of addiction. Passion is what you love to do and this one thing slowly becomes your life. Addiction is something you like, then you get used to it and then it becomes the most important driving factor of your life the one you cannot live without. Similarly passion when not attained leads to loss of equilibrium in a person's life. You have Sir ignited a new line of thought in me Thanks for the potent question.

      Delete
    3. My pleasure, Datta. I ask a lot of questions to myself. My stories come from such questions. Welcome to my second story based on the Mahabharata: 'The Autumn of the Patriarch'. The question that triggered the story was: which is greater: love or dharma?

      Delete
  7. Fabulous Analogy.. I had the luck to see both the televised versions, the first by BR Chopra, the second recently on Star Plus. Both were eye openers in their own ways but common in that, that both had the message that the world till date lives in the shadow of the Mahabharata. Hopefully one day, will cover my dream to write a post on the entire subject, until then, happily reading yours :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Indeed the Mahabharata is a complex work with numerous themes. I'm now working on a story about Bhishma and Draupadi. Glad you liked this one.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Machiavelli the Reverend

Let us go today , you and I, through certain miasmic streets. Nothing will be quite clear along our way because this journey is through some delusions and illusions. You will meet people wearing holy robes and talking about morality and virtues. Some of them will claim to be god’s men and some will make taller claims. Some of them are just amorphous. Invisible. But omnipotent. You can feel their power around you. On you. Oppressing you. Stifling you. Reverend Machiavelli is one such oppressive power. You will meet Franz Kafka somewhere along the way. Joseph K’s ghost will pass by. Remember Joseph K who was arrested one fine morning for a crime that nobody knew anything about? Neither Joseph nor the men who arrest him know why Joseph K is arrested. The power that keeps Joseph K under arrest is invisible. He cannot get answers to his valid questions from the visible agents of that power. He cannot explain himself to that power. Finally, he is taken to a quarry outside the town wher

Levin the good shepherd

AI-generated image The lost sheep and its redeemer form a pet motif in Christianity. Jesus portrayed himself as a good shepherd many times. He said that the good shepherd will leave his 99 sheep in order to bring the lost sheep back to the fold. When he finds the lost sheep, the shepherd is happier about that one sheep than about the 99, Jesus claimed. He was speaking metaphorically. The lost sheep is the sinner in Jesus’ parable. Sin is a departure from the ‘right’ way. Angels raise a toast in heaven whenever a sinner returns to the ‘right’ path [Luke 15:10]. A lot of Catholic priests I know carry some sort of a Redeemer complex in their souls. They love the sinner so much that they cannot rest until they make the angels of God run for their cups of joy. I have also been fortunate to have one such priest-friend whom I shall call Levin in this post. He has befriended me right from the year 1976 when I was a blundering adolescent and he was just one year older than me. He possesse

Kailasnath the Paradox

AI-generated illustration It wasn’t easy to discern whether he was a friend or merely an amused onlooker. He was my colleague at the college, though from another department. When my life had entered a slippery slope because of certain unresolved psychological problems, he didn’t choose to shun me as most others did. However, when he did condescend to join me in the college canteen sipping tea and smoking a cigarette, I wasn’t ever sure whether he was befriending me or mocking me. Kailasnath was a bundle of paradoxes. He appeared to be an alpha male, so self-assured and lord of all that he surveyed. Yet if you cared to observe deeply, you would find too many chinks in his armour. Beneath all those domineering words and gestures lay ample signs of frailty. The tall, elegantly slim and precisely erect stature would draw anyone’s attention quickly. Kailasnath was always attractively dressed though never unduly stylish. Everything about him exuded an air of chic confidence. But the wa

Pranita a perverted genius

Bulldozer begins its work at Sawan Pranita was a perverted genius. She had Machiavelli’s brain, Octavian’s relentlessness, and Levin’s intellectual calibre. She could have worked wonders if she wanted. She could have created a beautiful world around her. She had the potential. Yet she chose to be a ruthless exterminator. She came to Sawan Public School just to kill it. A religious cult called Radha Soami Satsang Beas [RSSB] had taken over the school from its owner who had never visited the school for over 20 years. This owner, a prominent entrepreneur with a gargantuan ego, had come to the conclusion that the morality of the school’s staff was deviating from the wavelengths determined by him. Moreover, his one foot was inching towards the grave. I was also told that there were some domestic noises which were grating against his patriarchal sensibilities. One holy solution for all these was to hand over the school and its enormous campus (nearly 20 acres of land on the outskirts

Nakulan the Outcast

Nakulan was one of the many tenants of Hevendrea . A professor in the botany department of the North Eastern Hill University, he was a very lovable person. Some sense of inferiority complex that came from his caste status made him scoff the very idea of his lovability. He lived with his wife and three children in one of Heavendrea’s many cottages. When he wanted to have a drink, he would walk over to my hut. We sipped our whiskies and discussed Shillong’s intriguing politics or something of the sort while my cassette player crooned gently in the background. Nakulan was more than ten years my senior by age. He taught a subject which had never aroused my interest at any stage of my life. It made no difference to me whether a leaf was pinnately compound or palmately compound. You don’t need to know about anther and stigma in order to understand a flower. My friend Levin would have ascribed my lack of interest in Nakulan’s subject to my egomania. I always thought that Nakulan lived