The Upholder of Dharma

For some reason, most of the literature that's ended up in my lap in the last few months has been predominantly about the epic Mahabharata. And having grown up reading it, thinking about it, living it since I was a little girl- the number of new ways in which these interpretations forced me to look at the epic astounded me. The number of small intricacies that I had earlier skimmed over came together to give me new perspectives on the characters, their motivations, their value systems. And the most prominent among those that had escaped my scrutiny earlier was Yudhishthira- the eldest of the Pandavas; the 'upholder of Dharma'. Since the very beginning, I had slotted him away as being not much more than a wimp. The one who silently watched when his wife was being stripped of her dignity in the Hastinapur court, the one who saw the need to be the 'voice of reason' at all times in the name of 'Dharma', the one who possessed no real superhuman powers- unlike the God-like bowmanship of Arjuna, the brute strength of Bhima, the talent with animals of Nakula, the renouned clairvoyance of Sahadeva. To me, he was the ultimate party pooper. If it were not for him and his want to stick to the truth and duty at all times (and keep Bhima and Arjuna from doing what they really wished), I sincerely believed the Mahabharta would have been even more colourful than it was. Draupadi would have been avenged right there and then, Duryodhana would have been killed before he became such a tyrant and wrecked havoc, the Pandavas would have never gone into exile, and the great war wouldn't be necessary.

I realise now that the Mahabharata wouldn't have been the epic it was if it weren't for him. For, in being the upholder of Dharma in a world where Adharma was rampant, he held together the fabric of the story with the thread of truth. And in doing so, he did the most thankless and least heroic of all jobs. In sticking to his duty, he gave up on flamboyance and all the resultant glamour. He was happy to be sheet anchor- the side actor who goes unnoticed in the brilliance and glamour of the rest of the cast. But if it weren't for him, they each would have crumbled under the weight of their own brilliance. If it weren't for him, the epic would have been a cluster of utter chaos

As the rest of the world gasped and gaped as Sehwag took Sri Lanka to the cleaners on the second day at Brabourne, I found a reflection of Yudhishthira on the other side of the pitch. As Rahul Dravid took guard, a sense of serenity and peace prevailed. As he approached his duty, his Dharma- to keep one end up- with the single-mindedness only he is capable of, he lent some sanity to the madness that was unfurling at the other end. There it was again- the most thankless, least heroic job- being approached with assurance and an innate calm. Singles taken at the beginning of the overs, balls defended at the end-all with a mechanic precision and will that was almost other-worldly. Happy to be the invisible thread holding together the most brilliant of innings. Nobody noticed the seam. Nobody wondered what would happen if it came apart. Because for so long- time after time and almost without fail- it has held together the fabric of the Indian Cricket Team. So predictably, it is easy to take for granted. Much less be thanked, it is hardly ever noticed. But it- he- keeps going. Despite the flakiness of the selectors who can't decided between youth and experience, despite bad runs of form, despite the thanklessness of the job- for over a decade now- Rahul Dravid has kept going. Caring only about his call of duty all this while- he has been the upholder of Dharma on the cricketing pitch. And when he isn't there anymore, the battlefield is going to feel a lot less just. And no chariot will ride two inches above the ground anymore.