I am Hastinapur
My story is old. No, ancient would be a better word to speak about my antiquity. My foundation was laid by the highly eminent King Hastin aeons ago. I served as the capital of the Lunar dynasty for generations, and carry stories of valour, war, happy times, and sad ones in my womb. I am Hastinapur, the seat of the seemingly undisputed and unconquerable Kuru clan.
I have seen too much to accept ‘undisputed and unconquerable’ without a pinch of salt. I have witnessed the rise and downfall of many kings. There is little doubt that the Lunar kings who sat on my throne have been prosperous for generations now. Yet, somewhere deep in my bowels, I felt an unpleasant stirring, especially since that fateful day when Devavrata became Bhishma, the one who took the terrible oath.
Then came his half-brothers, Vichitravirya and Chitrangada, who ruled only in name. If it was not for the power and efficiency of Bhishma, I would have been reduced to nothing at that time itself. After their passing came Pandu, not a very strong man although a good, generous, and kind king.
With Pandu gone, his elder brother, the blind Dhritarashtra, was on my throne, although the entire world knew the kingdom flourished, thanks to the power and influence of Bhishma, the Pitamah of the Kuru clan.
Hastinapur – the Beginning of the End
Things started going down when I saw the enmity between Dhritarashtra’s sons, the Kauravas, and Pandu’s sons, the Pandavas. The enmity was rooted in the question of who should be king after Dhritarashtra: Duryodhana, the eldest son of the present king, or Yudhishtra, the eldest Pandava and the eldest son of the previous king, Pandu. With no clear answers available to anyone including the elder, eminent Kurus and their advisors like Dronacharya, Kripacharya, and others, the only solution seemed to lie in war.
But before that imminent brother-against-brother war that was bound to bring the house of Hastinapur to its knees, a lot of nasty, unforgivable even, events occurred that I unfortunately couldn’t avoid witnessing, considering they happened in my backyard, all in the name of fighting for one’s rights.
The worst of it was when Draupadi, the Pandavas’ wife, was humiliated in open court, and not a single person had the guts to protest the utterly unpardonable injustice. The only one who did so was Vidura, the Prime Minister, and he too could do nothing more than rave and rant and walk out of the court. Nothing more! The Princess’ dignity was all but tattered to rags, stopping just short of complete insanity, thanks to Krishna’s intervention.
That was the day I yearned for the annihilation of my city. I was done with trying to overlook its seediness. Of course, beautiful, grand periods existed, and I am very proud of those times. But I know when the end is near. I waited for it with an earnestness I didn’t know existed in the pits of my bowels.
But today, I was beyond happy, beyond thrilled, ecstatic. Today, I saw a miracle that beat all miracles of the past, and even the future, I believe.
Hastinapur Witnesses Krishna’s Viswaroopam
Krishna was in my court, making one last bid for peace with the Kauravas.
“Anything to avoid war,” he told the court.
“Just let the Pandavas have five villages,” he pleaded. “Just five. Let the Kauravas keep the rest.” He addressed the elders in the court: Bhishma, the blind King Dhritarashtra, the guru, Dronacharya, who had trained both the Kauravas and the Pandavas with equal love and affection, the sensible council member, Kripacharya, and Vidura, the Prime Minister.
Before anyone could even think of replying, Duryodhana stood up and proclaimed, “I will not give even the space formed by the tips of five needles. Forget five villages. War it will be if Yudhishthira cannot relinquish his desire for the throne.”
“Not a single protest from anyone, again! Don’t repeat the mistake you did for Draupadi,” Krishna looked at each of the elders. None had the courage to meet his eyes. They were all staring unseeing at some point on the ground.
Krishna sighed and stood up, set to leave. Duryodhana sniggered, his arrogance filling the court. For a moment, Krishna lost his cool. He turned to the eldest Kaurava and said, “You don’t know who you are dealing with, my dear man. You think your military power is so great that nothing can stop your victory. You forget the Pandavas have me.”
Duryodhana laughed even louder. “Of course I know they have you. But only you! I have a far superior and more powerful army, many more kingdoms on my side, the power of the Kuru elders, and so much more. I don’t understand how the Pandavas think they can defeat me.”
“Only me, you say!” Krishna’s eyes lashed in anger. The earth shook, my court trembled, and I thought my city was going to be annihilated today. But nothing like that happened.
Krishna grew in size and stature to the point that I couldn’t see his beginning or end. I saw the warriors, kingdoms, and the armies that Duryodhana had just boasted about, paying obeisance to him. He had them eating out of his hands. I saw jungles, cities, skies, oceans, valleys, mountains, people, animals, insects, worms, even invisible things; the past, present, future, and everything my mind could fathom was subsumed in him.
But those were a minuscule portion of what Krishna displayed in himself. He held the entire universe in his body: the stars, the planets, the galaxies; the entire universe was his! Nay, he was the universe. And he was expanding into nothingness.
It was the most thrilling scene I had ever seen in my centuries of existence. And I knew the reason I remained in existence was for this one moment. Now I am at peace. I am ready to embrace the annihilation with grace. I will pray for the souls of every person who walked and will walk on my land because this land is holy. It witnessed the Vishwaroopam!
Author’s Note
If the city could think and talk, I think this story would emerge from its bowels.
This blog post is part of ‘Blogaberry Dazzle’ hosted by Cindy D’Silva and Noor Anand Chawla
in collaboration with Mister Tikku.
Images created using ChatGPT
So well articulated, Ratna. It felt as if Hastinapur were a person with feelings. But was Hastinapur annihilated? Wasn’t the war fought in Kurukshetra? I am ignorant, thus asking lame questions.
Thank you, Harjeet. Hastinapur as the capital of the Kuru clan was devastated after the war, considering only a handful survived. The annihilation of the clan represented by Hastinapur was gone. That’s why I believe these would’ve been the city’s thoughts.
This was so beautifully written. And the observation that Hastinapur in itself felt like a character is something I kept reading it.
Thank you, Tanvi.
If only cities could speak, we would hear so many secrets. You have nicely portrayed the grief and the joy of a city. I wish we could hear the city speak to know what it wants.
Indeed, Ambica. I wish cities could speak. History would be more accurate, I feel. Thank you for your comment
Seeing Hastinapur itself tell the tale — witnessing Bhishma’s terrible oath, Draupadi’s humiliation, and finally Krishna’s Vishwaroopam from within its own “bowels” — gives such a fresh, aching perspective on a story we all think we know. That reframing —a city surviving centuries just to witness one divine moment—gave me chills. Your author’s note lands perfectly too. Beautifully told 🙂
Thank you, Varsha, for your lovely comment.
Such a fascinating look into Hastinapur’s history and legacy. As always loved the storytelling and the way you explained it all in such an informative and engaging manner.
Thank you,Manali.
Definitely a city that needs a voice of its own. Unique perspective indeed .
A story that one can read/hear again and again and one that has to be told and passed down to future generations. Victory is where the lord is, and arrogance can never lead to success.
Such a wonderfully articulated post. I loved reading this one about hastinapur
i loved your take on this…a city with its own voice is such a fantastic concept! the history and your retelling was so enjoyable to read.
Very nicely written – as i read the post, scenes from Mahabharat seen in my childhood came back to me!
Giving Hastinapur its own voice was such a striking choice, the line about waiting for its own annihilation “with an earnestness” gave me actual chills. Watching the Vishwaroopam unfold through the eyes of the city itself made the moment feel even bigger somehow, like centuries of memory finally being rewarded. Such a fresh way to retell a story we all think we already know.
Love it. For me, the story peaked when you described Lord Krishna’s vishwaroopam. Beautifully articulated, I could feel how a place like Hastinapur bore witness to so many atrocious injustices.
Hastinapur- You witnessed a hell lot in your period and there were happy and sad moments that you witnessed. I must say that you were strong enough to bear the pain of beginning and end of the war of Kurukshetra. But destiny is something which hardly any of us can change …. and so on the pages of history the Kurukshetra became a name worth remembering for its historic war. Thank you Ratna mam for making Hastinapur speak out and share its own story.
Your storytelling made history feel vivid and alive. Every detail held my attention. The journey through Hastinapur felt immersive and meaningful. Looking forward to reading more fascinating historical narratives.
Thank you, Mandira
I’ve often wondered if Hastinapur could narrate it’s story what it would say. It has seen the best and worst times between the cousins. The wish to get annihilated would be real.
So well articulated.. feels less like reading history and more like listening to a place that has quietly witnessed everything through the ages.
Beautiful story praising Lord Krishna. Telling the story from the city’s POV was unique.
In a world of AI-generated content and short Facebook and Instagram posts, it’s so refreshing to read such original, beautifully crafted writing. Loved reading this, Ratty. Lovely as always!