The Vrishni assembly debates retaliation for the abduction

The news arrived at the gates of Dvaraka with Subhadra’s guards, breathless and alarmed. They had been escorting her back from worshipping Mount Raivata when Arjuna appeared. He had forced her onto his chariot and driven off with her as if on air, heading for his own city. The armed escort could do nothing but raise the alarm and dash back to report the abduction. They went straight to the Sudharma, the great assembly hall of the Vrishnis, and told the story of Partha’s valour to the presiding officer. The officer did not hesitate. He sounded the war drum — a terrible, golden-ornamented instrument whose roar was a summons to arms. Hearing that sound, the Bhojas, Vrishnis, and Andhakas abandoned whatever they were doing. They gave up their food and drink and streamed into the hall. The maharathas (great chariot-warriors) among them ascended their thrones, which were decorated with gold, covered with fine cushions, and adorned with gems and corals. Seated there, blazing like fires on sacrificial altars, they listened as the presiding officer formally recounted Jishnu’s (Arjuna’s) conduct. The reaction was immediate. The Vrishni warriors, their eyes already red from drinking, could not tolerate the report. They stood up arrogantly, shouting orders that filled the hall with tumult. “Quickly yoke the chariots! Bring our lances! Fetch the best bows and the large armour!” Some yelled for their charioteers. Others went themselves to fetch their horses, which were harnessed in gold. As chariots, armour, and flags were brought out, the uproar from those warriors grew deafening. In the midst of this boiling preparation for war, Balarama spoke. He was as tall as Mount Kailasha, intoxicated with wine, and dressed in blue. His voice cut through the noise. “O you who are not wise! What are you doing when Janardana (Krishna) is quiet? Without knowing what his thoughts are, why are you roaring in anger? Let the immensely wise one say what he intends to do. Whatever he proposes should be unhesitatingly done.” Halayudha’s (Balarama’s) words, which deserved to be accepted, brought a sudden check. All of them exclaimed “excellent” and fell silent. The wise Baladeva’s calm words restored order. The warriors stopped their frantic arming and returned to their seats in the assembly hall. The silence did not last. Kamapala now addressed Vasudeva, the scorcher of enemies. His speech was not a question but an accusation. “O Janardana! Why are you seated here and looking on without a word? O Achyuta! It was for your sake that we honoured Arjuna. It now seems that evil-minded one, the defiler of his lineage, did not deserve the homage and honour.” He framed the abduction as a profound ingratitude. “Will any man who regards himself as having been born in a good lineage break the plate that he has eaten from? Even if one has wished for such an alliance, should a supplicant who desires happiness have the courage to act thus, forgetting earlier favours?” His anger mounted. “By insulting us and disregarding Keshava, he has forcibly abducted Subhadra, summoning his own death. O Govinda! Like a serpent that has been trodden on, how can I bear him who has placed his feet on my head?” He ended with a vow of total war. “Today, I will alone rid the earth of all Kouravas. I cannot tolerate this transgression of Arjuna’s.” At this, all the assembled Bhojas, Vrishnis, and Andhakas applauded Kamapala — the thundering one, whose voice was like the clouds and a war drum. The hall echoed with their approval, the war fever rising again. But no army moved. The final word still belonged to the one who had remained quiet through it all.