And then, they were born

It had all started with Bhishma.

Devavrata's father Shantanu (read: lustful old pervert) had wanted to marry a woman roughly the age of his son. This was no ordinary woman: Satyavati was born of King Vasu and the apsara (not the pencil) Adrika (also known as Girika) who, for some reason, was disguised as a fish during the intercourse (well, an alternate version is so absurd that it deserves a post in itself: we will get into that later).

As a result Satyavati ended up smelling like a fish (she was also brought up among fishermen); despite that she was seduced by Parashar (the first of the many rishis in this saga):

Parashar: I want to sleep with you.
Satyavati: Huh?
Parashar: See, if you sleep with me you'll get the most awesome son.
Satyavati: Dude, get your things sorted out. I don't want a son. I want men, which is anyway difficult with this body odour.
Parashar: I will bring the son up.
Satyavati: What about my virginity?
Parashar: What about it?
Satyavati: Look, I need some fun, but I need my virginity intact as well.
Parashar: Fine. I will re-virginise you.
Satyavati: Sounds good. What do I get in return?
Parashar: I'll get rid of your body odour. You will be blessed with a fragrance that will attract any man.
Satyavati: Suits me. I'll give you my complete package.

So they made out and Satyavati gave birth to a child called Vyas. Vyas departed with Parashar and ended up writing Mahabharat himself (or rather, dictating it to Ganesh). I know there is a loophole somewhere in this but cannot get what it is.

Shantanu probably had a thing for fish; his first wife was Ganga, and now he became enchanted Satyavati's piscine aroma. He - you have to believe this - decided to ask his son for help.

We all know what followed. Bhishma vowed that he would never marry or rule a kingdom (read: he wanted to collect a cohort of concubines and run the kingdom from the background). As a result Shantanu ended up blessing his son that he could choose his hour of death.

This is something that has always baffled me: Can anyone bless anybody to be anything? I mean, if I had blessed Fardeen Khan that he would rule Bollywood for the next 75 years, would he really have been able to do so? Shouldn't there be a minimum cut-off level for being eligible for granting a boon?

The other blessing was easier to understand but difficult to explain: Devavrata was renamed to Bhishma. Exactly what purpose this served in Bhishma's life is unclear, but he accepted the name anyway.

So Bhishma became the ultimate dude of the book. He was invincible at war (yes, he was officially invincible); add his father's blessings to that, and you will find someone who cannot be beaten and can choose his own death. With a new name.

***

Satyavati and Shantanu ended up having two sons - Chitrangad (no 'a' at the end; the word means 'a decorated armlet') and Vichitravirya ('strange semen'). Someone in Hastinapur must have been very imaginative with names.

Chitrangad was the obvious contender to the throne (which was run, as you must have guessed by now, by Bhishma). However, he went out hunting one day, and met a namesake yaksha. The creature turned out to be rather over-possessive about his name.

What followed was history. The yaksha challenged his namesake to a duel on the extremely sound logic that two people with the same name do not have the right to co-exist in this world (thank goodness I was born in a different era).

The battle that followed has gone down in history as the Battle of the Chitrangads. One of the Chitrangads emerged victorious, and since he did not return to Hastinapur, one can only assume that it was the prince who had fallen.

The baton now passed on to Vichitravirya. Satyavati now sent Bhishma to Kashi to capture all three princesses from the swyamvar for Vichitravirya's sake. This probably made Satyavati the greatest mother in the history of mankind.

These princesses had names that followed the add-two-letters formula: Amba, Ambika (Amba + Ik), and Ambalika (Ambika + al). The general idea was to ensure that anyone who married these women would have the word Amba in the names of their wives.

As we all know, Amba backed out, and following a rather convoluted stretch of events (which involved my hero Parashuram) died, vowing to come back with a mission to kill Bhishma. But that is another story. I promise to write on that at some point of time.

Vichitravirya was shattered at the prospect of a foursome being reduced to a ménage à trois, but he still managed to live with it. Given the fact that he was called Vichitravirya, he died overdoing things a bit (yes, really) before he could father a son.

***

That left Hastinapur with two horny heterosexual women and without a heir. Of course, they had Bhishma, the most eligible bachelor in the country, but ruling a kingdom would have meant that he would have to give up his name of Bhishma and go back to Devavrata, and he would certainly want to give up his well-practised autograph.

Then, one night, Satyavati called Bhishma to her room. I'm not sure whether this is a night, but important conversations typically happen at night. You can even think of a thunderstorm or hailstorm or Himesh Reshammiya's voice or anything as a backdrop for that matter.

Satyavati: Sit.
Bhishma: No. Bhishma never sits.
Satyavati: Don't be stupid.
Bhishma: You should not talk to me like that. Nobody talks to Bhishma like that.
Satyavati: Listen, this is a serious matter. So please sit down and stop referring to yourself in the third person.
Bhishma: Well, what is it?
Satyavati: We need an heir for this kingdom.
Bhishma: So what do you expect me to do? Abduct a husband for you?
Satyavati: Listen, I have something to tell you. I have a son.
Bhishma: You have made two mistakes there - in the tense and in the arithmetic -
Satyavati: No, I had three sons. One of them, the eldest, is still alive.
Bhishma: What exactly are you talking about?
Satyavati: Er, well, I do not have a very pious past...
Bhishma: Which is why I wanted you to marry my father. You made an excellent couple.

Satyavati: This is really not the time for sarcasm.
Bhishma: Fine, what is it that you want?

Satyavati: I want this son of mine to impregnate Ambika and Ambalika.
Bhishma: I see what you mean. 

Satyavati: Do you think I should summon him?
Bhishma: Yes, I guess it's about time. I'm tired of their lewd gestures at me. They have even started calling me Debu.

***

So Satyavati's son arrived, and approached Ambika's room that night.

Ambika was scared. She closed her eyes. Before the action (possibly).

Ambalika was scared. She went pale. Before the action (possibly).

Not willing to take any risk Satyavati wanted to send Ambika again. But the cunning woman sent in a maid, who was happy with what she saw, and slept with Satyavati's son willingly.

So, what was it that intimidated two women and pleased a third? Let me give you a hint: the son was called Vyas, which is Sanskrit for diameter.

A few months later Hastinapur celebrated the birth of three sons: the blind Dhritarashtra, the pale and sickly Pandu, and the super-smart Vidur.

***

Dhri was born blind, which meant that Hastinapur turned a blind eye to his claim to the kingdom. Pandu was made king. This led to the Hastinapur teenagers chanting couplets where the first line almost invariably ended with Pandu.

Dhri worked his way around the system. He soon got to know that the mantle would pass on to the elder son of the next generation, so his son stood a chance as long as he was able to outdo Pandu at it. So he decided to get married.

Bhishma was sent to Gandhar (modern Kandahar). This was the third generation whose wedding Bhishma was supposed to arrange. Gandhar was probably sure of the blind love the groom would be possessed with, and set out for Hastinapur as Dhri kept himself busy with reading Braille porn.

Gandhari's parents were obviously not very imaginative with girl names. What was completely unexpected was the fact that Gandhari turned out to rather moronic as well. For some reason she thought that the best way to keep her marriage running smoothly was to blindfold herself.

General question: If Dhri was a cripple, what would Gandhari have done? Get a leg amputated? Hop on one leg for the rest of her life?

Pandu was not sitting silently, either. He was married to the reserved Kunti (who was, rather unpredictably, from a kingdom called Kunti, and then a Punjabi pataka called Madri to double the probability. Threesomes, you see, ran in his genes.

Personally, I believe that the kingdom was somewhat partial towards Pandu as well. They probably did not take the number of wives into consideration but probably took into account the sum of the distances required to travel to obtain a wife. The following illustration might tell a thing or two.

 Based on an excellent map of ancient North-West India that I have nicked shamelessly from the internet

***

Despite the fact that everyone is aware of it let me go through Kunti's pre-marital life once. Everyone loves gossip, which, I guess, should improve this blog's hit-rate.

When the notorious Durvasa landed up at Kunti (the kingdom) the king (who was called Kuntibhoj, which literally translates to 'one who eats Kunti'; don't ask me why) got petrified. Cursing random people at the slightest possible lapses was, after all, Durvasa's USP.

Kunti (who was actually Kuntibhoj's adopted daughter), through her six-sigma diligence that lasted over months, could manage to achieve that rare achievement: make Durvasa happy (not in the way you think); Durvasa granted her a boon that she would be able to summon any God whenever she wanted.

As soon as Durvasa left Kunti rushed to her room. She peeked outside the window and gestured at Surya, and he was there. I have no idea what happened to the sky for those few minutes.

Surya: You called me?
Kunti: Yes, Sir. I was granted a boon that I wanted to test.
Surya: What do you think I am? A freaking guinea-pig?
Kunti: No, Sir. I respect you very much and I think you're really hot and those yellow rays totally rock. Those eclipses are quite neat, too.
Surya: See, I don't come cheap. You need to pay me for the lost time.
Kunti: I don't have any money.
Surya: Sleep with me.
Kunti: Fine.

So they made out. Kunti met her parents after a couple of months.

Kunti: Hey, guys. I've got news for you.
Kuntibhoj: Yes, my dear?
Kunti: I'm pregnant.
Kunti's mother whose name I do not know: That's a joke, right?
Kunti: With you? Can you even spell humour?
Kunti's mother whose name I do not know: This is why I tell you not to let her out at night.
Kunti: Hey, this happened in broad daylight.
Kuntibhoj: So, who is the father?
Kunti: Surya.
Kuntibhoj: You mean the guy who makes bulbs and tubelights?
Kunti: Nope, the real one. The big yellow one. The star.
Kuntibhoj: That's cool.
Kunti: That's hot, you mean.
Kunti's mother whose name I do not know: This is not a time for puns!
Kunti: So what do I do now?
Kunti's mother whose name I do not know: There's no MMS, right?
Kunti: Nope, I made sure of that.
Kunti's mother whose name I do not know: Good. So have the baby and dispose off it; then get back into shape and we'll get you married off.

So Karna was born.

***

Then something strange happened. A rishi called Kindam (alternatively called Kindam or Kimindam) had decided to copulate with his wife. This may not seem strange, but the couple - perhaps known for their fertile imagination and inclination of roleplaying - decided to make out in the forest disguised as deer.

Not the greatest fan of deer porn, Pandu shot both the animals with a single arrow, only to discover that they were humans. Kindam then cursed Pandu (what was his fault?) that the Hastinapur King would die the moment he would try to have an intercourse with a woman.

Question: Was Pandu really at fault? I mean, he shot the deer, did not get to eat them, and then got cursed because they turned out to be kinky saints making out? Is that fair?

Kindam then died along with his wife. Owing to the fact that he died of unsafe sex, the word condom might have been named after him. I'm not sure, though.

Pandu, for whatever reason, left the palace to stay in the forest along with both queens.

***

Dhri, obviously, did not waste any time. In those dark days he felt for his wife a lot, and found his way through alleyways hitherto unknown to him. After a few attempts news came out that Gandhari was, indeed, pregnant.

Hell had, however, already broken loose elsewhere. Given that Pandu was now officially unable to produce a son an alternative needed to be found. Pandu had a conversation with his wives.

Pandu: Babes, you realise the need of the hour, right?
Madri: No.
Kunti: Yes.
Madri: Ignore her. She doesn't know what she is talking about.
Kunti: Aryaputra, I think you're talking about heirs to the kingdom; your sons.
Pandu: Yes. But given the current situation there is not much we can do, right?
Madri: No. And I'm hungry. It has been ages since I've eaten. Can I leave?
Pandu: See, the only way out of this is niyog. I am not my father's son, which means that my sons should also not be mine. Does this make sense?
Kunti: No, but I get the general drift.
Madri: Yes. Can I leave?
Kunti: What is it that you ask of us?
Madri: I have found a new recipe today. Do you want to try it?
Pandu: Well, if the two of you oblige...
Madri: Nobody wants to listen to my recipe. Hmph.
Pandu: ... you can sleep with one of those rishis.
Madri: Can't you think of someone better? What if they are actually deer in disguise? Or does it only work the other way round? Hang on, can't we summon Vyas-Sir?
Pandu: Do you have any idea what the family tree would look like if it's him?
Kunti: I know exactly what you mean, Aryaputra.
Madri: What's Aryaputra?
Pandu: ... and?
Kunti: See, I have once pleased Rishi Durvasa...

Pandu raised an eyebrow.

Kunti: Oh no, it's not what you think. I had cooked for him and looked after him when he had visited my father.
Madri: The next thing will be her recipes. And nobody wants to listen to mine. Hmph.
Kunti: Madri, this is serious stuff. So Durvasa gave me a boon: I am eligible to call any God at any point of time.
Pandu: So you think you actually want to do it with the Gods?
Kunti: Isn't that a better option? Gods are, well, Gods.
Madri: What are Gods like? Have you met one?
Kunti (blushing): Nope, haven't tried out this boon. Does this sound good to you, Aryaputra?
Pandu: It does. I guess you should summon Dharma.
Kunti: Why him?
Pandu: He sounds impressive. Look at it this way - if you get sons out of him we can call them Dharma Productions, which sounds quite profound. Something tells me future organisations will be named after him.
Madri: What about me?

So Kunti was duly impregnated after a few days. Nobody bothered about Madri, so she left for Madrid. Okay, I made up the last bit.

***

Things were happening in Hastinapur as well. Gandhari had not managed to deliver despite the fact her pregnancy days were over; she grew impatient. Her belly kept on expanding, and Dhri soon started finding logistic issues. He could handle his blindness, but flexibility was certainly not his forte.

There was also the perpetual issue of Gandhari's smelly blindfold: she had vowed not to remove it; as a result the blindfold had never been washed; Dhri had tried to convince her, but Gandhari somehow remained quite strong on this.

He sought out pleasures elsewhere: he cornered random maids in the palace (my guess would be on his using his ears and nose to seek them out, but I would not rule out him using his other parts of his anatomy as well).

Then, one day, Gandhari could not take it anymore; she called for a maid and asked her to smash Gandhari's belly with an iron rod. Being brought up a couple of oceans away from the United States the maid obviously did not have a baseball environment: she refused.

So Gandhari took up the rod and acted herself; she ended up releasing a humongous ball of flesh (no, it's not what you're thinking about). She was on the verge of destroying it when - all of a sudden - Vyas arrived out of nowhere.

Vyas: Don't do that, baby.
Gandhari: Listen, my husband wants a heir to the throne. I cannot give him a ball instead.
Vyas: Look, just keep the bloody thing submerged in cold water.
Gandhari: Right. That will surely be an improvement: a wet ball instead of a dry one.
Vyas: No, just do what I say. Once you do that it will split into a hundred small pieces.
Gandhari: How small?
Vyas: About this much.
Gandhari: That was insensitive.
Vyas: My bad. About the size of a thumb.
Gandhari: Whose thumb?
Vyas: Mine. Okay, fine. Your forefinger. Got it?
Gandhari: And what exactly am I supposed to do with these?
Vyas: There will be exactly a hundred pieces.
Gandhari: How do you know?
Vyas: I wrote this entire thing, woman. I know all this stuff.
Gandhari: Jeez. A hundred pieces from a ball. So what next?
Vyas: Just take these and put them in a hundred small earthen pots full of ghee. They'd, er, hatch. You'd get a hundred sons.
Gandhari: But I need a daughter. I want someone without hair on its limbs.
Vyas: Fine, 101 it is then. A hundred boys and a girl.
Gandhari: Why would that happen just because you've said?
Vyas: I'm the author, baby.

***

So the race began at various location. Bets were placed. Womb-shaped mementos were sold. There was even a contest where the participants were asked "WHO WOULD WIN? (A) DHARMA'S BALLS OR (B) GANDHARI'S BALL?" The answer was to be sent by pigeon.

Things got a bit tight towards the end but Kunti eventually beat Gandhari to it. She had a son called Yudhishthir. Watching Gandhari give up Kunti decided to rub it in further and summoned Pawan. That ended up in Kunti getting pregnant for a second time.

In fact, Gandhari's sons took a lot of time to happen. Things got so late that Kunti's second son Bheem was born on the same day as Gandhari's first son was hatched. The son was named Duryodhan.

Duryodhan arrived with a bang (no, it's not what you think). He brayed on his arrival, and the bray was responded by calls of foxes, vultures, and crows. Vidur called these ill omens and asked Dhri to discard his son. Dhri probably told him that an asshole didn't really have the right to comment on someone who shouted like an ass. That solved the issue.

A deluge followed thereafter: it took a month for the ball to produce a hundred more children - only one of which was a girl. Meanwhile, Dhri's encounters with the one of the Vaishya maids during Gandhari's pregnancy had earned him another son - whom he decided to call Yuyutsu. Given the name I strongly suspect the use of Japani Tel in the entire matter.

On a side note, as per the following chart Yuyutsu was a Mahishya. Also, if you have not realised, both Dhri and Pandu were Murdhabhishiktas.

***

Things were happening at Pandu's end as well. When Pandu had asked for another son Kunti ended up asking for Indra. The third son was called Arjun.

There is more to this, however. Though both Dharma and Pawan were Pandu's choices, Kunti had chosen Indra herself. This is officially the reason why only Arjun is generally referred to as Kaunteya (Kunti's son) or Partha (the son of Pritha, which, as you must have guessed, is another name of Kunti).

Lesson: If you're a woman your son will be named after you if and only if you get to choose the father of the son.

Pandu's fetish for sons was still not over. He wanted sons, more sons, more and more sons. He met Kunti yet again.

Pandu: Babe...
Kunti: Yes, Aryaputra?
Pandu: Er, can you have another go?
Kunti: But that's not possible, Aryaputra.
Pandu: Why exactly?
Kunti: Well, I cannot sleep with five men.
Pandu: Let me see - myself, Dharma, Pawan, Indra. Yup, you've slept with four.
Kunti (to herself): No, moron. Surya, Dharma, Pawan, and Indra. You never slept with me. You were too busy deer-hunting and fantasising that illiterate bitch.
Pandu: But what's the big deal? Sleep with one more.
Kunti: No, that's not doable.
Pandu: Why exactly?
Kunti: Er, if I sleep with four men I'm just a woman with loose morals. If I sleep with five that would make me a prostitute.
Pandu: Does that even make sense?
Kunti: Yup, that's what that Shwetaketu has mentioned.
Pandu: Who's that?
Kunti: Some prodigy. Hundreds of years ago they all mated randomly. But then it all got confusing when they had to write the father's names in the admit cards, so he started these definitions.
Pandu: Did you actually look up all this stuff?
Kunti: There's this rather cool thing called reading, you know. Something that the two of you are blissfully unaware of.
Pandu: So you mean to say, you can sleep with one of the others?
Kunti: Nope, this is an use-and-throw thing. You cannot recycle Gods to copulate.
Pandu: What happens to my voyeur fetish, then?
Kunti: You can ask Madri.
Pandu: But she cannot summon Gods.
Kunti: I will teach her. Just put up in display. As both of us know, anyone would go after that kudi with his tongue hanging.

[Time-out: So Kunti actually wanted Draupadi to be a prostitute. Now you know why Karna called her so immediately after the game of dice.]

And thus...

Pandu: Baby, I need you to sleep with a God.
Madri: That's not doable.
Pandu: Sure? I don't want to force you...
Madri: What God?
Pandu: Any God.
Madri: I have always wanted a doctor.
Pandu: Kunti here will teach you.
Madri: I don't trust her.
Kunti: Fine, I'm out of this.
Madri: Okay, when?
Pandu: Can I watch?

So Madri learnt how to summon Gods and cheated: she summoned the Ashwinikumars - twin brothers who were the doctors of the Gods. They did some quick stuff with her, and somehow, somehow, somehow, she had twins - one from each twin father.

These guys were called Nakul and Sahadev. Obviously, Madri, charged up by the threesome (did I mention about it being a fashion in the Kuru family?), wanted more fun. This was when Kunti put her foot down and refused point-blank.

You can have sex with another man even when in marriage, but not to two men simultaneously. Thus spake Kunti, adopted daughter of Kuntibhoj, sister of Vasudev, mother of Karna and the Pandavs.

***

Then, one day, Madri was walking about in the forest, draped in a wet, semi-transparent saree (the kind later copyrighted by Mandakini). Exactly why she did so is not mentioned anywhere, but Pandu finally gave in.

Obviously he died. You cannot survive a curse from a saint having fun disguised as a deer. That is out of the question.

Kunti: I cannot live anymore. My husband has passed away. You live, Madri; someone needs to take care of these five.
Madri: No didi, it has to be me. I was the one who had tempted him. Besides, I don't think I would make a really good mother. I've already seen Arjun check me out. You will make the better mother. I guess I'm just too hot for all this.
Kunti: Will it be teak or sandalwood?

Before he died, however, Pandu had asked his sons (who were possibly hanging around to watch him as soon as he started chasing Madri in that attire) to eat his flesh. None of them agreed, but while the bodies were being burnt Sahadev noticed a group of ant carrying a minuscule bit of flesh with them.

Sahadev ate the piece. Stealing from ants was what he was known for.

Immediately, he gained knowledge of the past, the present, of the future. He refused to tell anybody about this, though: the wise seldom speak.

***

Kunti left for Hastinapur with her sons once the funeral got over.

The Pandavs met the Kauravs. It was hatred at first sight.

That, however, is another story.

Meanwhile, whatever you do, whatever you think, whoever you fantasise, whenever you watch porn at work, always remember one thing: SAHADEV KNOWS.