Women in Mahabharata - Draupadi
Part 1
Note: Everything in Mahabharata is open to interpretation, and it’s fine if you don’t agree with mine, just don’t be rude about it. 😊
“Pati-vridhhi kule mama” – Draupadi to Bhanumati.
This little shloka snippet is not from any version of the Mahabharata, but this little anecdote captures Draupadi so beautifully that when I read it in Dr. Bhaduri’s work, I couldn’t resist the urge to put it in here.
One day, when Draupadi had come to visit Hastinapura, Duryodhana’s wife taunted her about the number of husbands that she had. Draupadi hit back with this gem: “Pati-vriddhi kule mama” [Husbands are to be maximised in my family]. With this one retort Draupadi looped in not just their immediate elders like Kunti, Madri, Ambalika, Ambika or Satyavati, but also went further back, to Ganga, to Urvashi and to Tara: the founder/revivor/sustainer mothers of the Kaurava line, the single thing tying them all together apart from the lineage being the greater-than-one number of their partners, thoroughly traumatising Bhanumati in the process (we don’t talk about that, right?).
The fact that Draupadi is a great logical speaker and a fine orator often gets suppressed under the weight of ‘her revenge’. The point of the anecdote is not just to prove that she can be snarky, but rather to tie in to the fact that Draupadi is an extremely present and intelligent speaker who can, so to speak, ‘dish it right back’.
One of the first times that we, the readers, ever hear of Draupadi within the main story is when some random Brahmins recount the story of her birth for the five brothers on their way to Kampilya. “Vedi-madhyaat-sam-utpannaa padma-patra-nibh-ekshanaa, darshaniya-anavadya-angi su-kumaari manasvini,” they say [Emerged from the centre of the altar, [with] eyes like lotus petals, worth of being beholden, the one with a body that is incomparable, youthful [on the younger side], contemplative].
Now, I do not like the middle of that shloka, or the other subsequent comments the middle-aged Brahmins pass about the fifteen/sixteen-year-old [or freshly-born if we go with the magic] girl’s body; however, even these men cannot evade the last adjective. Even when they’d much rather be still talking about her physical attributes, Krishnaa-Draupadi’s personality, her introspective, ruminative, a-thousand-solid-thoughts-a-minute brain still wrings out a comment about itself.
Another name of Draupadi’s is Yojanagandha, or the one whose perfume can be perceived across a yojana (roughly 3.6 km).
Interestingly, though this is most probably a stretch, look at this excerpt: “neel-o-tpala-samo gandho yasyaah kroshaat pravaayati”. This refers exactly to the name above, translating to “[Her] Fragrance, like the blue lotus, flows over multiple kroshas (1.8 km)”. Now, blue lotus, most popularly, is associated with Saraswati, specifically Neela-Saraswati or the Ugra-Saraswati. This form of Saraswati still propagated knowledge, but also has a certain edge, invoked primarily in the study of Tantra. Bhoomi, the goddess, is also often shown holding a blue lotus.
Of course, the on-the-nose interpretation is still tied to the epithet of ‘manasvini’, and the fact that Draupadi, the new Panchala princess, is already renowned in her kingdom, both for her beauty and her dark complexion [hence, ‘blue’ lotus]. However, narratively, a very solid indication is presented (albeit this could just also be a case of the proverbial question of why did the author say the curtains were blue), linking Draupadi, in a single metaphor, to extensive knowledge, to defensive violence and to land [To note: I am not claiming any avatarhood here, just pointing out a probable tongue-in-cheek foreshadowing].
Biologically, the twins seem to be someone in connection to the rishis Yaaja and Upayaaja, and Drupada’s wife makes them promise that the twins would only consider her as their mother. However, there could be any number of places they could’ve actually originated from.
Now, coming to her swayamvara: this was not really a swayamvara; it was a veerya-shulka with a PR spin. My guess is that, if Drupada were to come out and say this is a veerya-shulka, then Karna [or other undesirable people from the Panchala perspective] would have more of a solid ground for just storming the ceremony and kidnapping Draupadi. However, by pretending that this is a swayamvara, Drupada can control the participants (somewhat) and Draupadi has a say.
Dhrishtadyumna starts off the competition by listing the family’s preferences for the future-husband of their one-and-only princess: “roopeṇa veeryeṇa kulena chaiva; dharmeṇa chaivaapi ca yauvanena” ([Great in] beauty, in valour, in lineage, in a sense of duty, and more importantly, in age [reasonably young]). The list goes on for a while there, and reads almost like a terms and conditions page we all sign without actually reading. The simile is not really off-base, and this is, in fact, a pre-declared disclaimer that the Panchala royal family give, in case they wish to reject a successful participant later.
We know that Drupada was already looking for Arjuna, having chosen him as the desired husband for his daughter, and so he wanted to have enough loopholes in the competition rules so as to avoid any other people who might succeed in the initial challenge. Interestingly, there is no fish involved in this competition. It is only described as a suspended bhrami-yantra, and the meena-chakshu predicate is added on by Kashiram Das in his adaptation.
When Krishnaa-Draupadi enters the swayamvara sabha, on the sixteenth day of the overall festival, a milky-white garland in her hand, Vyasa describes her as: aapluta-angi su-vasana sarva-abharana-bhooshita [slightly overwhelmed, dressed in a fine dress and all forms of jewellery].
Skipping ahead a little bit, when most of the kings have tried to lift the heavy bow and have failed miserably, Karna rises to try. Dhrishtadyumna, by this point, has already given her a hint about both Karna and his overlords. Vyasa mentions that the Pandavas had already mentally written Draupadi off when Karna had risen. Seeing that: “Drishtvaah tu tam Draupadi vaakyam-uchhai-r-jagaad naaham varayaami sootam” [Seeing him, Draupadi declared loudly to the sabha, I will not marry the soota].
This is a contentious shloka, to the point that most editions have just removed it to avoid the trouble [still can be found in the Bangabasi edition]. However, it is quite an interesting position to put Draupadi in.
Obviously, the first point is the casteism of it. None of the main characters (including Karna) is free of this evil. Now, to make it more interesting, I already blabbed a lot about Drupada and Dhrishtadyumna silently pushing for this thing. They are, in my opinion, at least somewhat hiding behind Draupadi, forcing her to be the bad guy here, in public. Because, think about it, if any of the men in the Panchala royal family had stopped Karna, wouldn’t there be a war immediately? But only because this is a swayamvara, and it is the bride that is raising the objection, Karna has to bite the bullet, and we are able to avoid the Great War of the Grooms (for about 15-20 minutes, but that’s a different issue). To note, I am not letting Draupadi off the hook; I am just arguing that her words might not have come 100% from her and no one else, and I’m pretty sure Drupada had something to do with this. Apart from this, this remains also just a glimpse of the ‘manasvini’ that we heard about earlier.
I wonder if Drupada would have made Draupadi say this instead of another man in her family if he knew how much this one sentence was going to haunt his daughter in the future. Again, not saying Draupadi deserved it, squarely because no one deserves ‘it’, but in the story, this is the action whose reaction we see in Karna’s vitriol all those years later.
When Arjuna is successful, we again see a different face of this woman: ‘vinaapi haasam hasateeva kanya’ [without smiling, the girl smiles], and ‘madaa-drite-pi sthalateeva bhavaiha, vaacha vina vyaharateeva drishtya’ [she stumbles as if she were drunk, her drunken [on Arjuna, not alcohol] eyes speak without her lips moving].
After the battle with the kings is won, Arjuna and Bheema take Draupadi to the cottage of the potter, where Kunti is worried sick. A description of their journey is recorded by Dhrishtdyumna later: “Krishnaa pra-grihya-ajinam-anvayaattam, naagam yatha naaga-vadhuh pra-hrishta” [Holding on to the end of his ajina dress, Krishnaa followed him, just like an elephant-bride happily follows her elephant; note: naaga and hasti are synonyms in this version of Sanskrit, signifying both ‘snake’ and ‘elephant’; here the meaning of elephant has been used].
Although, herein lies a question. Kunti knew her sons went to see the swayamvara, but why she didn’t go with them is anybody’s guess. Also, Vyasa, previously, already told Kunti in private that Draupadi is to be married to all five brothers, and I do not think Kunti would be callous enough to forget an instruction like that! Although that one scene could be a later addition, it does add a different flavour to the drama at this point.
Then Arjun makes that fated joke, and Kunti replies: “Sa tvana-vekshya putrou, provaacha bhunkteti sametya sarveh!” [Whatever you brought, sons, devour it all together!] The previous paragraph does raise the question, no, whether Kunti knew what she was saying? On the surface, she didn’t have a clue, obviously, and she definitely regretted saying ‘devour’! Also, when Kunti then asks Yudhishthira to give a solution, she is definitely worried about the dharma of it all, but in a ray of sunshine, is also equally worried that the newly-arrived Panchali must not be put in an uncomfortable situation due to her careless words.
Yudhishthira, to his credit, immediately rules in favour of Arjuna. However, Arjuna, in a knee-jerk reaction, refuses to marry before his elders (buddy, I love you, but this is a thing you usually touch base on before you get engaged). While they are ping-ponging this decision back-and-forth, Draupadi is quite enjoying seeing all five grown men squirm- “drishtvaam te tatra pashyanteem sarve Krishnaam yashasvineem” [Then the illustrious Krishnaa looked at all of them]. She doesn’t utter a single word during this entire negotiation, but that is predominantly because she doesn’t need to, she is sort of liking it.
The next morning, when Drupada invited the lot of them to come to the palace, Draupadi was already allowed to shift into the same palace as her future husbands. Drupada arranges this so she can get acquainted with her new family with some level of privacy. After leaving them alone for a week, Drupada calls Kunti and Yudhishthira to his private sabha to fix the date of Arjuna and Draupadi’s marriage. This is when Yudhishthira decides to drop the bombshell. Apparently, no one else had bothered to inform the bride’s family about the final decision.
Yudhishthira starts with the fact that he and Bheema aren’t married yet (Hidimba doesn’t count, obviously), and Drupada declares that he is happy to find them a couple of nice girls, or have Draupadi marry Yudhishthira and then find Arjuna and Bheema a couple of nice girls. He is quite angry (understandable, after the radio silence for a week) when he hears about the Pandava Solution, and then Yudhishthira makes him angrier: “Esha na samayo Rajan, ratna-sya saha bhojanam” [In these times of the world, King, a gem [of a woman] must be devoured together]. (Darling let your mummy talk, and you…just…finger-on-lips please. Look, I understand eroticism, and the lady’s most probably on board, but must you say it like that to her father? He might have heart issues, you know)
Yudhishthira, then, once Vyasa arrives to back him up, brings up several examples of polyamorous women, let’s be clear, not to be progressive in general, but more so to win that argument. Also, ‘sookshmoh dharmoh maharaja’ [Dharma is a very fine/delicate concept, King]. This one dialogue had turned Draupadi’s life upside down more than once! Vyasa, after some more similarly questionable food-related comments (just let the women talk, Sir, and don’t ruin food for me), says that a woman at least desiring multiple partners, given the men too do the same, is simply ‘dharma-ir-shchasha sanaatanah’ [this is the traditional dharma]. Then, after the famous story about the five imprisoned Indras and a distraught Swarga-Lakshmi, Vyasa finally manages to convince Drupada, (this part’s only there to stuff the polyamory into a socially accepted single-husband structure).
Hence, the five brothers, canonically, like five well-behaved, and well-built bulls, followed Dhaumya, their cowherd, onto the wedding altar, where they each married Draupadi, on five consecutive days.
After this, we see Kunti being a delightful mother-in-law, who relinquishes her control of the household immediately and reiterates her trust in Draupadi by giving her the job of coronating the Pandavas as Emperor(s) in Kurujangala (the general area of Hastinapura) by her own authority as the Empress.
When the Pandavas then return to Hastinapura, now strengthened by the alliances of Drupada and Krishna, they are welcomed by, interestingly, Duryodhana’s wife, followed then by a mildly jealous and apprehensive Gandhari. Too bad, the men were too angry to show their faces. Also, interestingly, now, Gandhari orders Vidura to take Kunti and Draupadi to Pandu’s old room, and clean that up for them to stay in, when the last time they were here, they were shunted off to some spiderwebbed corner of the palace, still on Gandhari’s watch!
Then, after some time, Dhritarashtra again banishes them to Khandava, where Krishna finally, properly catches up to them, and personally helps them measure out the land and start building the city (leveraging his experience from Dwarka, no doubt) before returning for some time. There, Narada arrived to help them negotiate the one-year-per-brother rule for living with Draupadi. Vyasa describes the situation as “gaja-ir-yukta anya-ichhetyum ashakya, vabhoova parama-preeta naaga-ir-eeva saraswati” [Draupadi became a forest with many lakes where each of her elephants/husbands enjoyed a swim and kept other animals away, and she became an ecstatic forest providing shade to all five of them].
Then, of course, Arjuna disappears for twelve years, leaving Draupadi to fume at the absurdity of the entire situation. And then, he returns with Krishna’s sister, now married and ready to share her household. When Arjuna returns to Indraprastha, he goes straight to Draupadi, who promptly directs him to return to his ‘newer-model’ and stay there, among other things. So, Arjun does exactly that.
Interestingly, it is his idea to dress up Subhadra as a gopa woman and send her in to mollify Draupadi instead. It works, only somewhat. Draupadi is impressed with the gesture, but she is still angry. She says to Subhadra, “Nihsapatno-stu te pati.” This on-the-face translates to ‘may your husband not have any enemies’. However, sapatn[o/i] also means co-wife (‘sautan/shotin’).
Dr. Bhaduri interprets this as: ‘may you have no co-wives’, by which Draupadi still keeps Arjuna on the rack, as an extension of her previous comment.
I also like the other reading, which is: ‘may your husband have no co-husbands’: a covert expression of how tired she was starting to get of her husbands’ antics and their rapid-fire marriages.
Krishna also arrives shortly (primarily for damage control with Draupadi, I imagine), but also, with huge military help, which he practically ‘launders’ into the Pandava artillery disguised as wedding presents (he did the same thing during Draupadi’s marriage), since Balarama wouldn’t let him help them like this otherwise (Rohini is Shantanu’s brother Bahlika’s daughter/granddaughter, so that’s where his neutrality mainly comes from). This is also the time when Krishna is properly promoted from ‘weird generous acquaintance’ to ‘best friend forever’ in Draupadi’s books.
Right before Khandava is burned, we see Draupadi enjoying a nice picnic with Krishna, Arjuna and Subhadra, where she throws her own jewellery and even clothes at the entertainers who were performing for them. We see that Draupadi is 110% comfortable doing this in front of Krishna, most probably because she (and the other male members of her family) knows that Krishna is never ever going to look at her that way.
From here itself, we see Draupadi take a greater-than-average interest in politics, where Vyasa comments that by killing Jarasandha, Bheema and Arjuna have made her very happy. It seems that she is very much actively involved in at least the planning part of the conquest step of the rajasuya.
Again, if we have to pass rajasuya, we need to at least touch upon the infamous ‘andhe-ka-putra’ mess. Just to clarify, that did not happen. Draupadi didn’t laugh. In fact, she wasn’t even in the same building when Duryodhana fell into that indoor pond. That was all Bheema, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva, who laughed at him. The specific dialogue comes from a Telugu play that B. R. Chopra saw, then put in his show, and created a permanent additional headache for poor Draupadi. In the text, however, Duryodhana straight-up lies about Draupadi laughing at him (this being the inspiration for the play to make it true) when he is pitching a fit to his father.
I also have to blame Yudhishthira a bit for what happened next. This dude decides to prank his homicidal cousins at the worst possible time, and with the worst possible scenario. Why on earth would anyone think that Duryodhana being in charge of receiving the gifts meant for the Pandavas, Dushhasana in charge of food and drinks, Ashwatthama in charge of saying hello to everyone and Jayadratha in charge of choreographing the support staff is remotely a good idea, on any front. Did he want his guests to have the worst possible time?
Then, Shakuni gaslights Dhritarashtra into thinking that he has neglected Duryodhana, and he convinces Duryodhana to host the infamous dice game. Now, the game itself is very interesting. It seems from Shakuni’s words that it was almost expected that one would cheat in this, to the point that Shakuni classifies a certain speed of counting and a talent for adding/removing points as a necessary skill rather than any form of cheating. Yudhishthira doesn’t agree. Shakuni pretty much tells the prince that he is going to cheat, and even the method he is going to use, confident that Yudhishthira can in no way match up to this particular ‘skill’ and will lose.
Interestingly, Yudhishthira very much knows that he is walking into a trap. He is naïve, not unintelligent. Then, one after the other, he stakes all his brothers, and then himself. We see that he has genuinely forgotten about Draupadi (and hence didn’t stake her organically, without Shakuni’s prodding), since she isn’t in the sabha yet.
Then Yudhishthira, almost feverishly, starts describing Draupadi. I won’t go into the overtly physical detail that he gives. Interestingly, this is one of the few complete physical descriptions of Draupadi, and it seems very intentional to have this be publicised by Yudhishthira, of all people, especially in the situation that he did. Even if the next events did not happen, I would still hold this speech against him.
Then, Duryodhana asks Vidura to go fetch Draupadi, so she may clean their quarters with a broom. This seems also a cruel mockery on Duryodhana’s part, to begin the insult of Draupadi with the one man who was trying to shield her. Then, when Vidura, instead of swallowing the insult, starts throwing legal jargon and moral fables at him, Duryodhana turns and asks the soota Praatikaami to go fetch her instead.
Draupadi, the ever-present debater, understands in a second, from Praatikaami’s summarisation, and tells him to go ask the Pandavas if Yudhishthira had already lost himself, then who gave him the right to stake Draupadi, who would then be an independent woman (or at least belong to her father, pardon me for being crude about it).
Yushishthira doesn’t answer Praatikaami, and instead sends a separate messenger to beg Draupadi to tie her dress lower than usual, cry a little, come to the sabha, and beg (read: argue legally) on their behalf.
Finally, Duryodhana ordered Dushhasana to bring her instead. To save herself, Draupadi ran towards Dhritarashtra’s bedrooms, where his other wives were (also, this is where we learn he did have other wives, even besides Gandhari and Yuyutsu’s mum). However, none of those women helped her, and Gandhar most probably was not there at the time. Dushhasana catches up to her there and pulls her to the sabha by her braided hair: “Dushhasano naatha-vatim anaatha-vat, chak-arsha vayuh kadalimivaartaam” [Dushhasana pulled the woman, who had husbands, as though she had no protectors, just like the wind bends a soft banana tree].
When she reaches the sabha, the first thing she does is glare at her husbands with an intensity that sends a chill down their spines. Then, she continues speaking (yes, she never stopped arguing her point).
Now, Karna has had our sympathy through the entire story so far, but here, personally, he slips so far that it is unrecoverable, no matter how many (not many) good things he accomplishes in the story after this point. You sort of expect it from the Kaurava brothers, but you do not expect it from Karna, and it does come almost out of nowhere, that Karna, too, is laughing his head off, while Draupadi is begging to be let go. Yes, she insulted him before, but this is hardly an acceptable response. Nor are the words he uses to describe Draupadi next.
Draupadi argues that since Yudhishthira has lost himself, she is an independent woman, and so her now-legally-ex-husband could not have staked her. Vidura agrees with this and is, in fact, the first to argue that point, even before Draupadi gets involved. However, Bheeshma gets in the middle and complicates the matter by bringing up a tradition, where a wife is but half of her husband, and according to the old pitamaha, when Yudhishthira lost himself, he lost Draupadi to the Kauravas automatically, and hence the last bet isn’t legal. Also, since Yudhishthira didn’t protest against himself while placing the last bet, Bheeshma isn’t too sure what he should say (???). However, this doesn’t help Draupadi whatsoever. Good job, grandpa, you just muddied the pool nice and thorough and hurt her defence in the process!
Draupadi, however, refuses to give up, and argues further that everyone knows that Yudhishthira is a novice in this game, so how come the elders even allowed him to play against Shakuni? Here, Dushhasana tries to start pulling her garments again, Bheema shouts at Yudhishthira and Arjuna stops him. Vikarna, becoming the opposing force to Karna as the stand-in “Virudhha-Karna”, stands with Draupadi, but is silenced by Karna himself. He is determined to, today, extract a twisted revenge for the insult in her swayamvara all those years ago.
Then finally, when Dushhasana pulls open her dress, she calls out to Krishna (not in every edition), and Dharma is the one who comes to her rescue (no harm in conflating the two, really, you do you <3): “Tatastu Dharmo-ntarito mahaatma, samaavrinod vividh-air-vastra poogaiha” [Then Dharma, the great soul, transformed himself and wrapped her in various clothes]. A non-magic explanation could be that all the kings who were present in the sabha finally had enough of this and threw their own dresses for Draupadi to catch and cover herself with. This is when Bheema vows to kill Dushhasana.
After this, Draupadi sort of regains her composure and very sarcastically says, “I failed to follow proper procedure and convey my regards to the elders, but only because I was a little preoccupied with the impolite prince. I am the daughter of Drupada, the sister of Dhrishtadyumna, the daughter-in-law of Pandu, and the sakha [note it, not sakhi] of Krishna. I am also the lawfully wedded wife, of the same caste, of the kshatriya Yudhishthira. So, if you could kindly wrap up this drama and fast-track the decision of whether I am a slave or not, then we can all get on with our day.”
Then a long legal debate follows, between primarily Bheeshma, Duryodhana, Karna and Draupadi, interspersed with the other vows. It results in Dhritarashtra’s fears finally catching up with him, and he therefore releases the Pandavas, Draupadi and their wealth. Seeing the sabha’s opinion slowly turn against them, Karna is the first one to give up: “Panchali Pandu-putraanaam nauresha paara-gaa-bhavet, stri gatih Pandu-putraanaam ityu-vaacha su-dur-manah” [Panchali dragged the Pandavas ashore on a boat; at last, a woman is what saved the great Pandavas].
Then, they leave but are called back from only a little distance. Then they lose again and are sent to the forests. They also get a magic plate which is ever-filling until Draupadi eats, which basically amounts to the fact that now Draupadi is not only stuck in the forest in the middle of nowhere, she is stuck also cooking for the entire forest in the middle of nowhere.
This is when Dhrishtadyumna, Krishna, Dhrishtaketu and other allied Kings catch up to them. Krishnaa-Draupadi, going against some decorum, demands an answer from Krishna as to why he wasn’t in Hastinapura to save them. For one thing, she describes her ordeals with no sugarcoating, with all the gory details, which is relatively rare for women in literature, and we love her for it! If she has to live through it, the men can at least hear her out without complaining.
In her words, Draupadi enumerates several legal points, ranging from a failure on Dhritarashtra’s part in controlling his administration to the various torture Bheema specifically has had to put up with over the years. Practically, unfortunately, she knows most of these kings will not lift a finger to help her, but she hopes at least they’ll stand with her husbands (who she also blames, but to a lesser degree) on the question of inheritance: na bhraataro na cha pita naiva tvam Madhusoodana [I don’t have a brother, nor a father, and not even you, Madhusoodana!], is where her speech culminates.
Draupadi corners Krishna and declares that he has four reasons for why he is obligated to protect her, even if her husbands don’t: (1) sambandhaat: she is his aunt’s daughter-in-law, (2) gauravaat: she is born from the yajna fire and hence is a special person, (3) sakhyaat: she is Krishna’s personal friend and hence has a special right to his care, outside of her familial contact, and (4) prabhutvena: Krishna is powerful. The 3rd should speak to us the most about their relationship.
Krishna assures her, and they all return. Her five children go to Panchala with Dhrishtadyumna, Krishna takes Subhadra and Abhimanyu to Dwarka, and Dhrishtaketu takes Karenumati to the city of Shuktimati in Chedi. Yudhishthira’s charioteer Indrasena also goes to Dwarika with the bulk of their remaining support staff and Draupadi’s jewellery before rejoining them later. After this, the Pandavas retreat northward from Kamyaka-vana (Thanesar) into Dwaita-vana (Deoband, Saharanpur). There, several Brahmins (read: political theorists) meet the Pandavas (political implementors), and they begin planning their strategy of recovery.
Meanwhile, the ‘priyaa cha darshaneeyaa cha panditaa cha pati-vrataa’ [Beloved, worthy of being beholden, the expert advisor, dedicated to the well-being of her husbands] Draupadi is fuming. She understands the theory well enough, but she is thirsty for some action. Something tangible she can see with her own eyes. The more frustrated she becomes, the more she takes it out on her husbands. She points out the various differences in their lifestyle, imploring her oldest husband to do something productive.
Draupadi and Yudhishthira, both skilled debaters and both near-identically entrenched in their contemporary political theory, have a long conversation, contrasting the theories of Yudhishthira’s kshama/anrishangsata [forgiveness/non-cruelty, Yaudhishthiri-neeti] and Draupadi’s utthana/udyoga/chairavati [standing up/initiative/movement, Vaarhaspatya-neeti]. Finally, when Draupadi blames God for not intervening, and therefore implicitly supporting Duryodhana’s atrocities, or not existing at all, Yudhishthira is taken aback. He momentarily praises Draupadi, accepting his defeat, but then falls back to patriarchy and chides his wife for making ‘atheistic’ points- ‘naastikyantu prabhaashase’ and implores her to be less reliant on her own intelligence.
She then serenades him in adjectives such as “alakshmi”, “durbudhhi”, “kleeva” (don’t like this), “unmaada” and “I should’ve just picked one of you”. Now, the last one, yes, she said that, but it was in terrible anger, and there is no reason to assume based on this alone that she regretted marrying all of them. After the dyuta sabha, their equations changed obviously, but Draupadi’s natural propensity for polyamory was never the point in question.
Then Vyasa advises Arjuna to seek more advanced weaponry, and we see a glimpse of Draupadi and Arjuna’s rather silent relationship. Draupadi obviously uses “we” for everything and says, “We will not be happy even a single second without you.”, “We shall talk about you day and night!” And, “May no one else be cursed with a kshatriya birth, one that takes a man away from his family!”
After a few days, Draupadi says to Yudhishthira, “Nothing pleases me here but Arjuna. I see the world empty without him, and spring has come without reason. He is dark like storm clouds, his strength is like that of an elephant, and yet his eyes are soft like lotus petals. His absence brings me unending discontent.” Now, Bheema doesn’t mind. He never does, but Yudhishthira? That’s a different story. Bheema instead jumps in and adds on to it, with many nice words about his little brother. Yudhishthira just walks away. Narada comes and, sensing the growing tensions among these people, advises them to go on a trip. As per Lomasha’s advice, Yudhishthira sends off most of the brahmins who were staying with them, and also the bulk of his remaining staff, and the four brothers and Draupadi go travelling with a minuscule retinue. Vana Parva is such a treasure trove within Mahabharata, where you find almost everything, from a wealth of myths, to travelogues and moral and political theoretical discussions! For the story, too, the journey bears the utmost importance. It is only fair that the future Emperor of ‘India’ walk the Earth he chooses to govern first.
Part 2
They go to many places (most teerthas in India, in fact), and even meet up with the Yadavas in Prabhasa. Finally, they go up the mountain Gandhamaadana (close to Kailash), where they’ve been informed that Arjuna will reunite with them. Lomasha warns them of natural and tribal dangers, and Yudhishthira asks Bheema to pay close attention by saying, “You know, after Arjuna, Bheema is the one Krishnaa trusts the most.” Then, Yudhishthira, almost with a casual cruelty, says, “The road ahead is not suited to a woman. Rather, let her stay here with the servants. Lomasha, Nakula and I will bring Arjuna back for her.” Bheema, however, not one to get into petty jealousy, laughs in his face and insists that he will take Draupadi along no matter what. Yudhishthira relents and starts praying that Bheema will be strong enough to carry her on his back.
Draupadi laughs and insists that she is quite capable of walking herself. En route, however, they get stuck in a dust storm. Bheema shelters with Draupadi under a tree with a bow-and-arrow [kshatriya-symbolic], while Yudhisthira disappears into the forest with Dhaumya [brahmana]. Nakula hides behind a tree with Lomasha and their support staff [vaishya], and Sahadeva, not finding anyone else to save, hides in a cave with all of their utensils [shudra]. This is an observation by Mme. M. Biardeau.
After the storm subsides, they proceed through the muddy, slippery path, and Draupadi falls unconscious after a while [most probably her legs just gave out], and she rests on Nakula’s lap. Later, Yudhishthira gives her a head massage while Nakula and Sahadeva presses her feet, and Bheema stands there overseeing it. Then Bheema calls his son Ghatotkacha [remember Hidimba has a temple in Kullu, so they were probably living relatively close by]. Ghatotkacha then picks up all the Pandavas, and Draupadi, as well as Dhaumya. The other Brahmins and the staff were all carried by his friends. I guess this was a pitthu situation, like we do see kind of everywhere now.
They decide to rest for a few days in Badrikashrama before proceeding further. Here, one day, Draupadi finds a beautiful flower: the saugandhika [a thousand-petalled lotus]. She was already ecstatic at the prospect of meeting Arjuna. Draupadi shows the flower to Bheema, and asks him to go get her a tree of this flower, so she may gift it daily to Yudhishthira [most likely she noticed that Yudhishthira didn’t like her excitement for Arjuna’s return after 4-5 years, and she’d now like to balance it out]! Bheema, too, ever in love with this woman, runs to find where on earth this flower grows.
Yudhishthira, when he finds out that Draupadi has sent Bheema on a random chase, scolds her quite a bit, ignores the gifted flower, and follows the trail to find Bheema fighting a war in Kubera’s garden. Bheema here is described as ‘bhartri-priya-hite-rata Draupadi-vaak-paatheya’ [busy always in pursuit of his partner’s pleasure, a traveller on the road of Draupadi’s words].
Then, a ‘demon’ [just a local dude] named Jatasura decides he was going to abduct Draupadi, and starts working for the Pandavas undercover. Then, one day, he tries to pull her away, after locking Yudhishthira and the twins in a cave somewhere, Sahadeva escapes somehow, and Yudhishthira lectures him from inside. Finally, Bheema comes back and kills him.
After this, Arjuna returns in all his glory, and Krishna too comes to the forest to meet him. Krishna teases Draupadi a bit, albeit a little away from the brothers, “Dishyaa samagraasi Dhananjayen!” [You finally became complete now with Dhananjaya!] He also, between such comments, assures her that her sons are indeed growing up well.
Here, we have a very uncharacteristic discussion between Satyabhama and Draupadi. Personally, it seems more like a sarcastic conversation rather than a serious back-and-forth about how submissive a woman must be to her husband(s). I mean, Draupadi hasn’t followed any of the advice she gives Satyabhama, except maybe the part about compromising a bit, but that can be applied to every relationship; it need not be romantic. Also, it seems like a manufactured opening for Vyasa to reiterate just how much he hates black magic and enumerate the various physical ailments that the uninformed administration of random roots and fruits could have on a person’s body.
Then the Ghosha-yatra, where we learn Duryodhana thinks about Draupadi way more than Draupadi thinks about Duryodhana (what a loser!). Also, Dhritarashtra speaks about her, “Yajnasena-sya duhitaa teja evat u kevalam!” [That daughter of Yajnasena is all anger and nothing else!] Well, they have done some stuff to make her behave like that in front of them, so I can’t exactly blame her for the temper now. Let us leave it at that. We’ll also skip the Durvasa story; it is not that important in the grand scale of things.
Then, we skip over Jayadratha, who was on his way to a swayamvara in Shalva. Here, we (and he) see Draupadi standing at the gate of their mansion, her dress a bit loose, falling off her shoulder. She stands with a hand on a low-hanging branch of a tree. The shalabhanjika.
Jayadratha sends Kotikaasya, the Suratha king’s son, and he, in turn, takes Trigarta’s prince Kshemankara, and the princes of Pulinda and Ikshavaku and goes to ask Draupadi if she’s interested. This is when Draupadi hurriedly fixes her dress and invites the lot of them to have breakfast in her kitchen.
She is horrified, though, when her brother-in-law then starts using the same rhetoric as Duryodhana and Karna and invites her to go with him. Draupadi scolds him a lot, but obviously, that did not help. Jayadratha tried to pull on her dress, but with one push, and I guess a solid PTSD response, Draupadi manages to drop him on the floor and run out calling to Dhaumya.
Within that time, obviously, Jayadratha gets up and starts dragging her away. Now, we see Draupadi just stop resisting. Rather, she pretty much calmly walks onto his chariot. In fact, as Jayadratha started to drive away, she leans outward and continues chatting with Dhaumya, who follows them on foot.
The Pandavas, when they return, find Draupadi’s young maid Malini sobbing on the floor. Stopping her with a bark mid-panic-attack, Yudhishthira sends Bheema and Arjuna to pursue the chariot-tracks.
The Pandavas catch up to Dhaumya midway, who was resting a bit, and pursue Jayadratha. Now, when Draupadi sees the flags of her husbands’ chariot, she proudly describes each of their physical dispositions as well as their flag markings (has Jayadratha really never met them before?), relishing how scared this makes her kidnapper.
Bheema and Arjuna catch up to Jayadratha and return Draupadi to Dhaumya. Later, when they present Jayadratha to her, she demands that he be killed, but eventually gives in to Yudhishthira and forgives him. We see that Bheema is not ready to let him go until Draupadi expressly tells him to do so. I feel bad for both Draupadi and Dusshala; neither of them deserved Jayadratha.
Next, agyaata-vasa. While deciding their disguises, we see a glimpse of Yudhishthira’s jealousy peek through. For Arjuna, he says to Draupadi, “How do you think we’ll hide, Arjuna, the lad who bewitched Vaasuki’s sister Uloopi?” To Nakula, he says with a laugh, “I heard you are a really handsome man. So, what will you do?” The specific words that he uses in Sanskrit, word-for-word, had been said to him by Draupadi during one of her complaint sessions earlier in the twelve years. Did he really feel that bad about her words, to want to throw this back in her face like so? All the brothers understand that their eldest and their wife are playing a different game, and they staunchly refuse to participate.
Now, coming to Draupadi, Yudhishthira says something that only Yudhishthira can, “Maat-eva pari-paalya cha poojya jyeshth-eva cha shvasaa…su-kumaari, baala cha raja-putri yashasvini” [She is to be protected like our mother, and worshipped like our elder sister…she is youthful, just a little girl, an illustrious pampered princess]. (I just want to see the collective faceplants all around him).
Draupadi, however, just shrugs it off and replies that she would like to be a sairindhri/sairandhri, a woman who earns her keep independent of the control of any man. She decides to specialise in building elaborate hairstyles for the royal women.
Draupadi enters Virata’s city, draped head-to-toe in black, holding a suitcase of salon essentials, her hair tied up in an ultra-complicated bun on the right side of her head, with a cloth tied intricately over that (a resume on her own head if you will). Notably, she is again ekavastraa, like during the game of dice.
Sudeshna, the queen of Matsya, sees her from the balcony and summons her to her chambers. Even before Draupadi has a chance to make her case, Sudeshna checks her out from head to toe and comments, “Tena tenaiva roopena Kaashmiri-va turangami” [You look like a Kashmiri horse; note: Sudeshna herself is Kashmiri]. The entire description is uncharacteristically sexual in nature, and it is quite a stroke of genius that it comes from another woman. For men, we have seen that yes, they see Draupadi, but there’s something in her personality where these men are forced to concede to her personality first and foremost. Coming from a woman, the adjectives dancing around ‘manasvini’ are starkly absent, and we hear only of her physicality.
Draupadi, too, tongue-in-cheek, as she presents her ‘previous experience’ as the hairstylist to Satyabhama and Draupadi, she describes herself as ‘Kuru-naam-eka-sundarim’ [The sole beauty among the Kauravas].
It seems that Draupadi boasts of her beauty at the wrong time, as Sudeshna immediately rejects her, saying she might cause the King to abandon Sudeshna and marry this sairindhri instead. Draupadi then has to invent [re-package] her five ‘gandharva’ husbands, which at least initially placates Sudeshna. Draupadi only places two conditions for her service: (1) she’d never eat the leftovers of someone else, and (2) she would never be made to wash another’s feet. Interestingly, these are the same conditions posed by Damayanti before beginning her service for the Queen of Chedi.
Here, she isn’t happy (quite humiliated in fact), but at least her life is uneventful until Keechaka. Honestly, all five Pandavas were doing things that already were hobbies for them, and were quite happy in fact, but only Draupadi was the one who got stuck with the real thankless, blue-collar job.
Keechaka tries first to get Sudeshna to fire Draupadi so that he could swoop in and marry her. When that doesn’t work, Keechaka approaches her directly and gives a very long, very uncomfortable speech describing Draupadi (these shlokas are bad enough that even the Bangabasi edition has not kept them out of general awkwardness, and the only place to find them is in the old Chitrashala edition). To this Draupadi replies, with great restraint, “A-prarthaneeya praarthyaam maam soota-putra-abhi-manyase!” [I am not high-born enough to be desired by a son of a soota such as yourself]. Here, she insults him just enough (by calling a full-blooded kshatriya a soota-putra, an old trick with her, no?), and simultaneously tries to make herself as small as possible.
However, after the first sentence, Sairindhri’s inner Draupadi takes over, and she gets harsher and harsher. Also, if you’ve been in this particular position of being treated like a ‘prey’ to be hunted, you know exactly the growing fear that this kind of situation brings, and morality, honestly, flies out the window. For Draupadi, the more scared she gets, the harsher her words are usually.
Keechaka leaves her alone for the time being, but goes and falls at his sister Sudeshna’s feet. Honestly, this part makes me dislike Sudeshna a lot. I get that you feel bad for your just-rejected brother, but that doesn’t give you the leeway to go ahead and make plans for assaulting one of your staff members. Be better!
Sudeshna sends Draupadi to fetch alcohol from Keechaka’s house, and there he accosts her. Then, he tries to embrace her by pulling her dress, and we all know what response that gets out of our princess. One solid push, Keechaka is on the ground, and Draupadi starts running towards the royal court.
Keechaka catches up, though, and kicks her right in front of Virata, Yudhishthira and everyone else. Even Bheema was there on some work, and was stopped only by his brother. Now, Draupadi isn’t one to take things lying down, and she pushes Keechaka onto the ground again, and it seems like a full-on scuffle, and Draupadi is winning!
She stands up, glares once at the two brothers, and says, “A great kingdom you are running, O King! Such a pleasure it is to be here amongst the immoral dacoits that parade proudly in the guise of royalty! Keechaka, the soota-putra, knows nothing of dharma, and neither does apparently the King. The enlightened ones of the sabha, too, have forsaken dharma, it seems, for they still remain in the service of this king!”
The courtiers do side with Draupadi, but immediately follow it up with vivid descriptions of her body, and the opinion turns away just as quickly. Yudhishthira, noting this, quickly intervenes and orders Draupadi to stop complaining and return to Sudeshna, assuring her that her gandharva husbands would figure something out.
Now, having heard of the mess at court, Sudeshna quickly offers to have Virata kill Keechaka, but Draupadi, disgusted with her as well, declines and leaves. She goes to the restroom, and washes the dress she was wearing. It is so deeply sad that she has to then wring out and wear again the same dress that Keechaka had touched, when she would’ve very much have liked to burn it, Keechaka alongside it preferably.
That night, she tiptoed into the palace kitchen, where Bheema was asleep. Draupadi just lay down on him and started hissing in a whisper, “Are you dead, my love?”. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and began complaining. Bheema wakes up immediately, but doesn’t reciprocate at first. He only laments the fact that Draupadi has lost a lot of weight, and reiterates his determination to fix this. First, Draupadi expressed all her 13 years’ worth of pent-up frustration on Yudhishthira. She uses a few choice words for Yudhishthira (stuff that may not be repeated in polite company). Then she complains that all the women tease her incessantly when she is worried to see Bheema performing for the King like a circus animal. She also complains about her other husbands, how one is busy day and night making the young, youthful girls all dance to his tunes, one of them runs around in the fields with a red cloth tied around his waist and the other one is busy entertaining the king with his horses’ display! She complains further about Sahadeva, how Kunti had warned Draupadi to feed him with her own hands, and not leave him alone in dark places, and now that he has to fend for himself in the fields all alone.
Bheema, usually 100% on Draupadi’s side, now does try to speak for Yudhishthira as well (probably a result of the ‘choice words’), and warns her to never repeat what she just told him. Here, we see a more heartbreaking point, Draupadi confesses to Bheema, that the assault currently is at the back of her mind, and she is now way more worried that Keechaka is going to just physically beat her up (which she just might not even survive) the next time he sees her, especially after his insult at the court!
Bheema now embraces a sobbing Draupadi, and they make a plan to trap Keechaka in the dance hall of the palace. The next morning, Keechaka accosts Draupadi again, and this time explains how Virata is just a puppet-king, and Keechaka is the real power behind the throne. As per the plan, Draupadi pretends to be impressed. She tells Keechaka to meet at night in the dance hall, and then gleefully informs Bheema of the progress. Bheema too reiterates his promise, and says that he will surely kill Keechaka, even if it exposes them, because at this point (and I quote), “To hell with Yudhishthira!”
At night, Bheema kills Keechaka and slips away to the kitchen, and Draupadi goes herself to inform the guards that her gandharva husbands have ended their commander-in-chief. She also wakes up some of the courtiers herself and invites them to come watch the spectacle. Then, she stands there, leaning on a pillar, laughing as his kith and kin are summoned to perform the last rites. This bravado backfires on her big time, as Keechaka’s lackeys spot her, and immediately tie her up and hold her hostage, determined to burn her on the same funeral pyre. Here, we see that these upa-Keechakas actually go to Virata for this, and he gives them permission to burn her like that!
Bheema hears her yells, though, fortunately, and he saves her. Bheema returns to the palace in secret. However, Draupadi takes the scenic route, first taking a bath in a nearby lake, washing her clothes and then walking proudly through the main street, where people start running away from her, thinking her to be some kind of a demoness. Paying no attention to them, Draupadi walks through the kitchen, with a smile and a wink at Bheema, and says, “Gandharva-raajaya namo yena-asmi pari-rakshita.” [I salute the king of the Gandharavas who protected me]. Instead of returning directly, however, even after all these terrifying adventures, Draupadi takes a long cut to Arjuna’s practice room.
There, all the girls surround her, asking for the full story. Arjuna, too, has to participate. Draupadi, now in a relatively good mood, says to Brihannala, “How would you understand what a mere sairindhri has to go through every day. You are drowning in these women and these luxuries after all!” In saying that, she accidentally uses the masculine terms in her speech, which, of course, Arjuna is only too quick to correct.
Arjuna shook his head and said, “Na tu kenachid atyantam kasyachid hridayam kkachit, veditum shakyate bhadre yena maam naavabudhhyase.” [Much too rarely it is when one person understands the heart of another, Miss, and you don’t understand mine.]
Brihannala’s students then escort Draupadi to Sudeshna’s room, where she is promptly asked by Sudeshna to leave the city, all while Virata hides behind his wife. Draupadi, in turn, asks for only 13 more days and promises to leave after that.
I wonder, how oblivious was this little family exactly? The Pandavas have been sloppy left, right and centre. Anyone else, with even 1% more awareness of international politics, would’ve clocked them instantly.
Also, meanwhile, Abhimanyu goes to Hastinapura alone to deliver Krishna’s gift for Duryodhana’s big yajna, and Duryodhana laughs and blesses him so that he may follow in his father’s footsteps in valour. Selective monster, this guy is!
When Traigartya Susharma attacks Matsya, and Virata goes to deal with them with the Pandavas, Bhuminjaya, his son (nicknamed Uttara), finds that Duryodhana has stolen all their cattle, and that he must do something, but he doesn’t quite know what. So, he brags to his sister and her friends that he would have defeated everyone, just like Arjuna, only if his charioteer had been alive!
Draupadi, who was listening from a corner, loses it when Arjuna is dragged in, and comments that Brihannala might be a great substitute. Then she suggests something to Kumar Uttara: “Yeyang su-shroni bhagini te yaveeyasi.” [Send your sister with the good backside to call him]. Notably, this is the first time we ever see Uttaraa, the princess whom Arjuna was primarily in charge of teaching dance. Draupadi insists that Arjuna can never say no to this particular girl.
Now, Draupadi hasn’t seen them up close too much. Intentionally, Brihannala and Sairindhri have meticulously kept out of each other’s way. It is truly amazing how jealous Draupadi is of a random suspicion based on an innocent crush that she has built up in her head.
Uttaraa too runs to her beloved teacher, to quote, like an “elephant-bride to her elephant”. She throws her arms around him and says she will kill herself if Arjuna doesn’t listen to her. Arjuna, for once, is quite taken aback, but doesn’t turn her down. We do see some figment of truth in Draupadi’s anger, as Arjuna starts clowning before Uttara, specifically, ‘to make the princess laugh’. Then, all the girls gather around him and instruct him to bring back the uttariyas of the opposing warriors.
The war itself, and the drama around that, is a musing for another time (I’ll only say, they’d all have done well in Bollywood). Now, back to when Virata offers to marry Uttaraa to Arjuna, Yudhishthira and Draupadi share a very meaningful glance about it, before Arjuna could get up and revise that offer. After the marriage, however, Draupadi does understand that it was just a harmless crush, and is quite impressed with Uttaraa otherwise.
Here, in Udyoga Parva, we hear from Sanjaya that he had walked into a 'situation’, where Krishna and Arjuna were considerably drunk, and them two plus Draupadi and Satyabhama were all passing around a glass of wine. Here, Krishna’s feet are on Arjuna’s lap, and Arjuna’s feet are on Draupadi and Satyabhama’s laps (one on each’s). Again, no one minds this because they are all extremely clear on one another’s personal boundaries (not to mention, very comfortable in one another’s presence).
Then, they hold a sabha, which culminates in Krishna being sent to make a last-ditch effort at stopping the war. Here, while Yudhishthira and Bheema are primarily on the side of peace, Sahadeva urges Krishna to do everything needed to make the war happen. He assures Draupadi that if no one else is willing, then he himself will go to avenge her, or die trying. Nakula takes a neutral approach and asks Krishna to decide which way to go.
Draupadi shows the sabha her hair, the same that had been pulled by Dushhasana, and speaks, “I knew Duryodhana would never give us those five villages (Avisthala, Vrikasthala, Maakandi, Varanavat and one dealer’s choice), because my husband has already given him the impression that his softness is actually cowardice. Meanwhile, I, Druapada’s daughter, Krishna’s sakha, and Pandavas’ wife, was insulted despite my illustrious family!” And “Dhik Paartha-sya dhanush-m-attaam Bheemasena-sya dhik-balam, yatra Duryodhanah Krishna muhurtam-api jeevati!” [Shame on Pritha’s son’s [Arjuna’s] archery, and shame on Bheema’s strength, that Duryodhana lives on for even a second longer, Krishna!]
She then places the end of her loosely tied long hair in Krishna’s hand and demands justice. She also warns Krishna that even if he brokers this peace, still her old father, her brothers and her sons would go to war.
In Hastinapura, when we meet Kunti again, she declares that Draupadi is dearer to her than her own sons, and that she will never forgive the Kauravas for their treatment of her. She details how Draupadi could make the impossible possible with her own resolve, and expresses the doubts he has on the existence of God, because there’s no way a woman like Draupadi is being punished under the watchful eye of a deity. She also asks Krishna to advise Arjuna to leave the feet of Yudhishthira and follow Draupadi’s guidance instead.
Then we see Krishna’s most controversial move yet. Trying to convince Karna to abandon Duryodhana by dangling Draupadi in front of him. I mean, fair offer, given Karna has always simultaneously hated and loved Draupadi.
However, hypothetically, if Karna had said yes, and Krishna had returned with a new prospective husband for her, my running guess is that faces would be ripped off. Not Draupadi’s, she’s smarter than that. But, Karna’s definitely, and Krishna’s, just for coming up with the plan, and finally Yudhishthira’s, for ever creating this mess. The order might change, but it would end definitely in a room locked from the outside (the key is with Bheema) and a bunch of ripped faces.
On a serious note, Krishna probably knew that Karna’s self-respect would not let him say yes, no matter how much he wanted to, and Krishna just took a chance just to be able to say that he tried everything, or maybe he remembered that he is supposed to be mischievous and just tried pushing Karna’s buttons. Also, I don’t think Krishna ever told Draupadi about this little manoeuvre behind her back. I do not believe Draupadi would have ever forgiven him if she knew.
Throughout the war, Draupadi really does not have much of an active role. The war, despite her calls for revenge, really was not fought for her. Barring the Panchala family and the upa-Pandavas, no one really did fight for Draupadi to be fair. It was always about the kingdom, and hence, once the war starts, Draupadi, the straw that broke the camel’s back with a fourteen-year delay, fades into the background.
After the war, after Ashwatthama’s ravishment of their tent, Draupadi nearly falls to the ground before Yudhishthira, but Bheema is quick enough to catch her. She says, “You must be happy, gearing up to rule now that all the children are dead! So happy, indeed, that you did not remember even the son of Subhadra!”
Knowing Yudhishthira is the last person who’d go for action, Draupadi commands Bheema to get her the gem (just a deformity) on Ashwatthama’s head so she may put it on the emperor’s crown. She gets it. Bheema says to her then, “You wanted the war, and you got it. You insulted Krishna with terrible words, and yet he avenged you. I have kept all my promises. Every single one. Here, take Ashwatthama’s pride and joy! Now, what more do you want? Can we stop now?”
This is uncharacteristic, especially from Bheema. He has never gone against Draupadi so directly. Personally, I think we can allow this to be a misplaced expression of his own grief. From this, we develop the idea of Draupadi being the yuga-ending kritya of Dwapara.
She spent the rest of her life serving Dhritarashtra, Gandhari and Kunti, more than being an empress. It seems the combined grief of losing most of her family and Bheema’s words pushed her away from the limelight. We hear nothing else from her in the rest of the story. She is the first to die on the mountain cliff, and Yudhishthira throws back the instances that he had noticed of her being partial on the surface-level to Arjuna at her dead face. She definitely did not deserve the last taunt; however, Yudhishthira, who is ironically her most consistent life-companion, had to be the one to betray her one last time.
Draupadi’s base character is supposed to be imperfect. And we the readers are supposed to look at all the facts and decide on that eternal question: “Does she deserve it?” (For the sake of clarity, I feel like I have to say: she doesn’t, but we have to wrangle with this question throughout her story).
Also, taking from Dr. V. Propp’s work, look at this concept of 'trebling’ in mythology. Here, a certain type of incident (mostly with the primary 'moral’ of the story), will repeat 3 times in the whole story, just to drive home the main point. For Draupadi, this question of “Does she deserve it?” is explored thrice:
1. Draupadi insulting Karna, versus, Draupadi’s vastra-haran
2. Draupadi being a bit 'free’ with Jayadratha, versus, her being kidnapped
3. Draupadi working as a sairindhri, versus, Keechaka’s attraction.
These above three points, you could write entire papers on each of them separately, but if you look at it in short: it reflects victim-blaming points that are unfortunately used today as well (1. She shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, 2. She shouldn’t have shown so much skin, and 3. She shouldn’t have been working), and challenges the readers to ask themselves if these points disqualify Draupadi from gaining their sympathy (while also highlighting that Krishna, the Pandavas and everyone else who’s good, in fact, is after these incidents still standing with the lady)!
Yudhishthira is both the bane of her existence and also her best friend in a really twisted way. He is the only one who’s been with her constantly, all day and night, through most of her life. He is also, by virtue of being the emperor, her chief-husband. He drives Draupadi up the wall constantly. She doesn’t agree with him on most points, his betrayals are hard to endure, and yet, she is quite fond of him, simply out of familiarity.
Bheema is the one who has 'given’ himself completely to her, and she both uses him the most and is the most grateful to him. Draupadi depends the most on this man. She has no qualms about his other wives, be it Hidimba or Valandhara, and she knows that Bheema has enough love for all of them. They are also the most similar in the entire polygon, personality-wise, and hence her choice of him, for all her heart-to-hearts.
Arjuna is the one she wants the most, but who pulls himself away from her the most. For her, he is the one that ‘got away’. Embarrassed by his initial faux pas, Arjuna intentionally stays away for many long stretches, despite not really wanting to. He thinks that separation is what might help him atone for the initial issue (and then the marriages) that he created for Draupadi. What he does not understand is that, this exactly is what draws Draupadi to him, she wants to understand him once and for all, and that is quite difficult to do if you simply disappear 4/5th of the time.
Nakula and Sahadeva are her husbands, sure, but she behaves more like a mother to them than anything. Now, I wish this weren’t the case. I wish they had a normal relationship, especially given they would be the closest in age to one another, but Kunti’s over-maternal instincts are what seem to have overflown into Draupadi. There could be very well a positive spin on this, a less complicated relationship that blossoms behind the scenes. However, in that case, Vyasa hasn’t done a great job of showcasing it in the text. Here, Nakula is more concerned with his looks, and Sahadeva thinks that he is smarter he actually is, and it simply doesn’t bode well for a relationship with a woman like Draupadi.
Draupadi and her husbands’ individual relationships are too replete with contradictions. I never like getting into comparisons about who loved who more, and I’d still insist that it is simply, different. For example, a trip to go hunting with Draupadi might delight Bheema, but it would absolutely mortify Yudhishthira. The same issue will be faced, if Draupadi dragged Nakula to a weeklong philosophy conference instead of Yudhishthira. Whole family trips in these cases, just to be equal about it, would simply make everyone miserable, and Draupadi is too dynamic a woman to do that kind of a thing.
