Dhritarashtra Orders and Vidura Performs Pandu's Funeral
With Pandu and Madri dead in the forest, Dhritarashtra orders a royal funeral from the capital. Vidura and Bhishma lead a vast, sorrowful procession to the Ganga, where the king and his wife are cremated with full honors, leaving their five young sons to begin twelve days of public mourning.
The news reached Hastinapura: King Pandu and his wife Madri were dead. Dhritarashtra, who had been ruling in his brother’s absence, now gave the orders from the throne.
He summoned Vidura. “Perform all the royal funeral rites for Pandu, that lion among kings, and also specially for Madri,” he said. “For their sake, give away animals, garments, jewels, and all kinds of riches to any that ask. Perform her rites the way Kunti would. Let her body be covered well, so that the sun and the wind cannot see it.” He added a note of consolation: “Let there be no lamentations for the unblemished Pandu. He was a king to be praised. And five brave sons have been born to him, like the sons of the gods.”
Vidura, with Bhishma at his side, did as he had been asked.
They chose an extremely pure spot on the banks of the Ganga. Without any waste of time, the royal priests left the city, carrying with them a fragrant and flaming fire for the ceremony. Pandu’s body was laid on a bier, covered with the best of scents and garlands, and draped on all sides with cloth. The bier itself was adorned with more garlands, garments, and great riches. Madri’s body, well-covered as Dhritarashtra had instructed, was placed beside his.
Advisers, relatives, and friends gathered. The lion among men was transferred to a supremely decorated hearse, to be drawn by men. With Madri beside him, the procession began.
It was a majestic, sorrowful scene. A white umbrella was held above the hearse and whisks made of yak tails were waved. Every kind of musical instrument was played. As they moved, hundreds of men distributed jewels among the crowd. Large white and pale umbrellas and beautiful garments were brought in honor of the Kourava king. The sacrificial priests, dressed in white, walked ahead, pouring offerings into the blazing fire they carried.
Thousands followed — Brahmanas, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas, and Shudras — all lamenting in grief. “O king! O protector!” they cried. “Where are you going, leaving us unprotected and immersing us in eternal grief?” Bhishma, Vidura, and Pandu’s five young sons wept as they walked.
They came at last to a beautiful, sacred, and wooded region on the banks of the Ganga. On the plain, the hearses were laid down.
The funeral rites began. The bodies were scented with all kinds of perfumes, sanctified with pure fragrances, consecrated with the best of oils, and bathed. Water was sprinkled from a hundred golden pots. White sandalwood paste was smeared on them, mixed with black aloe and the juice of coconuts. They were then draped in white cotton garments. Dressed like this, Pandu — that bull among men, tiger among men — seemed to be alive, as if sleeping on an expensive bed.
When the other rites were over, the sacrificial priests gave their consent. The ornamented bodies of the king and Madri were covered in ghee. Fragrances like sandalwood, *tunga*, *padmaka*, and many others were applied. The fire was lit.
On seeing the two bodies in flames, Kunti — referred to here as Kousalya — lamented in her son’s name and fell to the ground, unconscious. Seeing her fall, the citizens of the town and the country wept in grief, out of the affection they bore for the king. Along with the men, all the other beings cried out, even those of inferior births. Shantanu’s son Bhishma wept in great sorrow, as did the immensely wise Vidura. All the other Kurus were also extremely miserable.
Then Bhishma, Vidura, Dhritarashtra (referred to simply as “the king” in this context), the relatives, and the women of the Kuru lineage offered the water, completing the final rite.
When the water ceremony was over, all the ordinary people sorrowed and consoled the Pandavas, who were overcome with grief. With their relatives, the five boys slept on the ground. The Brahmanas and the citizens did the same. The Pandavas, and the entire city — young and old — grieved for twelve nights, unhappy and miserable.