What if Yudhistra played the dice, thinking that he could get the throne from Duryodhana in an accepted fashion? Duryodhana was the rightful heir of the throne, being the first born of the first born. May be because, as Yudhishtra won the war, he is being called the epitome of dharma.I have pondered over this and written this bookAjaya- Roll of the Dice (Epic of the Kaurava clan, #1) by Anand NeelakantanThis is the Mahabharata from the view point of KauravasAnand NeelakantanAuthorAsura- tale of the Vanquished, the story of Ravana and his peopleAjaya, epic of Kaurava clan, Roll of the dice“TRUST” - that is the one-word answer to your question! It does not need great thinking — it needs great understanding.‘Trust’ is neither ‘Belief’ nor ‘Blind-Faith’; trusting is a habit. It happens if you grow up in Truth.Please allow me to quote the immortal words of Osho : “Trust is not of the mind. Distrust is very intrinsic to the mind; Mind exists on distrust, on doubt. When you are in too much doubt, you see too much mentation around inside, moving.
Mind gets in too much activity. But when you trust, there is nothing for the mind to do. Have you watched it? When you say, ‘No!’ you throw a rock into the silent pool of your consciousness; millions of ripples arise. When you say, ‘Yes’ you are not throwing any rock. At the most, you may be floating a rose flower in the lake. Without any ripple, the flower floats. That’s why people find it very difficult to say yes, and find it very easy to say no. ‘No’ is always just ready. Even before you have heard, the "no" is ready.“By understanding the mind and the constant duality in it, by witnessing it, you become separate from the mind. And in that separation arises trust, and that trust knows no division between me and you. That trust knows no division between you and life. That trust is simply trust.“It is unaddressed trust, not addressed to anybody – because if you trust me, you will immediately distrust somebody.“Whenever you trust somebody, immediately, on the other end, you will be mistrusting somebody else.
If you believe in the Qur’an you disbelieve in the Gita; if you believe in the Bible, you cannot believe in Buddha. If you trust in Jesus, you cannot trust in Buddha. What type of trust is this? It is of no worth.“It is neither addressed to Christ, nor to Buddha. You simply trust because you enjoy trusting. You simply trust, and you enjoy trusting so much that even when you are deceived, you enjoy. You enjoy that you could trust even when there was every possibility of deception, that the deception could not destroy your trust, that your trust was greater, that the deceiver could not corrupt you.“He may have taken your money, he may have taken your prestige, he may have robbed you completely, but you will enjoy.“And you will feel tremendously happy and blissful that he could not corrupt your trust; you still trust him. And if he comes again to rob you, you will be ready; So the person who was deceiving you may have robbed you materially, but he has enriched you spiritually.”Yudhisthir is the man of truth — Trust is his nature!
And it just can NOT be ‘corrupted’.Hope this answers your question.Not easy to understand with a Western mind-set. This is NOT to cast any aspertions — I also had my education in the Western mould; it has totally overtaken India. Hence the difficulty in understanding the Eastern world-view — one has to learn the right language!Reading learned people like Osho, helps — at least it helped me!!!a weaknesstragic flaw Kshatriya dharmaThe story is beautiful example to illustrate the true spirit of charity.Vyasa YajamanaAswamedha YudhishtirYudhisthirYudhisthir Yudhishtir RishiBrahmin Brahmins In an Indian home, the guest is Atithi-NarayanaGod himself.Brahmin Yudhishtir's Yudhishtir the greatness of charity lies not in the mass of wealth but the spirit of generosity and Universal love in the heart of the donor.The mongoose appeared cause it was sent to the Ashwamedha Yagna by Vyasa. In order to get rid of Yudhishthira’s ignorance.The mongoose narrated the story of a real Daani a poor farmer.
This poor farmer was a far better doner than Karna in my opinion. Cause he didn’t donate with the intentions of getting rid of his sins, of getting a celestial dart, or donating only to Brahamna’s and Kshatriyas, or donating just to get some punya in order to surpass Arjuna, or donating only until he kills Arjuna. Karna is a fake doner. The farmer donated to satisfy the person he was donating to unlike Karna who donated with the intention of getting things out of return.At the end of the Ashwamadha Yagna performed by Yudhistira, when it was time to give charity to all people, a strange half golden mongoose came near the sacrificial pit and rolled it's body to the sand and then shook his head. Curiously, Yudhistira asked, " Why are you shaking your head like that, O mongoose?"To which the half golden mongoose replied, "O king, once there was a very poor family of four. One day as they sat to eat the little food they had, an unexpected guest arrived at that time. They didn't have any leftover food so the man of the family decided to give his portion of the food to the guest.
The guest being tired, wanted some more of the food so his wife gave her portion as well. But their guest was so hungry that in turn the two young children also gave their meals. The guest was then satisfied. The family, though starving were extremely pleased and didn't regret their decision at all. When I rolled in the sand in front of their home, half my body became golden as it is now. Such was the family's generosity. Since then wherever there has been a large sacrificial Yagna with charity, I have rolled in the sand in all those places seeing if the other half of my body will turn golden too. But O king, no where has it been like the poor family's household. I now believe no where will the will to give be so sincere and I will never get a fully golden body."- The Times of India, Nov 28, 2004 Every Indian child knows that Yudhisthira loses everything--his kingdom, his brothers, himself and even his wife, Draupadi-- during the epic game of dice in the Mahabharata. Duryodhana then orders Draupadi brought to the assembly to humiliate her.
She refuses and sends the messenger back to find out if her husband lost her first or himself. The implication of her question is that if he had lost himself first then he was no longer free and couldn't stake her. Draupadi's prashna unsettles everyone in the assembly. It forces them to think about dharma, about right and wrong, and who has the authority to decide this. This is the central theme of the Mahabharata. They confront too the Faustian question about what it means to wager one's soul, says Alf Hiltebeitel in his admirable book, Rethinking the Mahabharata: a Reader's Guide to the Education of the Dharma Kings. Draupadi has been on our minds recently ever since the Congress spokesperson compared her to the equally defiant Uma Bharati, who walked out of the BJP conclave just before Diwali. Draupadi's question is relevant to our governance as well, and why so many public servants behave as badly as the Kauravas. Manmohan Singh knows this only too well, which is why he keeps promising that improving governance is his first priority.
Well, the nation waits, and impatiently, to hear how he is going to redeem his promise. What makes Draupadi's question admirable is her concern for dharma, for doing the right thing. There will always be nasty types--Shakuni, Duryodhana, Duhshasana—but good institutions are designed to punish them and to reward decent behaviour. Why then does the opposite happen so often? To find out, read Arun Shourie's new book, Governance and the sclerosis that has set in. Each day we look to the government for justice, for solving our basic problems, but insolent bureaucrats respond by cloaking these behind miles of red tape. Instead of attending to us, Shourie recounts how 4 departments took 12 months of endless meetings to decide if an official may use green or red ink in place of the usual blue or black for noting on a file. He gives new meaning to Franz Kafka's bureaucratic nightmare, and one official I know hung his head in shame and wept after reading the book. Similarly in the epic, no one answers Draupadi's question.
The most moral Yudhisthira--incapable of telling a lie yet addicted to gambling--he remains silent. Vidura, a most sympathetic character, also endangers dharma when he doesn't speak up. The good Bhishma gets away by proclaiming that dharma is subtle (sukshma), and hence not easy to know. True, it is often difficult to tell right from wrong. This difficulty seems to hang over the entire epic, and Yudhisthira is still trying to fathom it till the end. This is also why I prefer the Mahabharata--it is about our lives, about good people acting badly. The Ramayana, on the other hand, is tiresome—an ideal king, his ideal wife, his ideal brother, ideal subjects; even the villain is ideal, says Iravati Karve. A few weeks ago I warned Mr. Chidambaram, our finance minister, that his excellent work in policy reform might come to nought by the bad behaviour of a few income tax, customs and excise officers. Hence, I pleaded with him to devote his considerable talent and energy to improving systems and processes in his revenue departments, and bring more transparency in the citizen-official interface.