AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (9 page)

***

Though Shakuni had travelled many
yojanas,
he could still feel the burning eyes of the Brahmin boring into his back. The wind was howling in his ears and the horse frothing at the mouth, yet he kept urging greater speed. He knew Aswathama would come after him. He could feel it in his bones. His heart thudded louder than the sound of his horse’s hooves.

When his mount finally jumped over some bushes and flew into Gandhara, Shakuni punched his chest. ‘Aswathama, we will arrange a welcome feast for you. Welcome to Gandhara, Brahmin!’

*****

6
   
D
ARKNESS

“BHANU!” THE VOICE SOUNDED OVERWROUGHT
, like that of a tired man recovering from sickness.

Bhanumati pulled the quilt over her sleeping daughter. ‘Why did he do it? Suyodhana, I cannot look at you.’ How she despised him for what he had done. The breeze carried in the sweet scent of
parijat
flowers. ‘Why doesn’t he just come in, instead of calling out like a dying man?’ she thought. Had he gone away? How could he go leaving her like this?

Silence surrounded her. Unable to bear it a moment longer, Bhanumati tread on noiseless feet to the door and yanked it open. She saw a shadow in the gloom of the corridor. She approached him, afraid her determination to hate him all her life would melt if she looked into his eyes. His shallow breathing stopped altogether as he sensed her presence. She wanted to touch him but withdrew her hand at the last moment.

“Bhanu, I did nothing wrong,” he said beseechingly.

Bhanumati withdrew in horror. “Nothing wrong? What are you saying, my husband?”

“She deserved it. That woman deserved every bit of it.” The low whisper scorched her ears. Forgetting to breathe, she stood still, waiting for him to say something that would make her believe in his remorse.

“Why do you stare at me like that, Bhanu? Tell me you understand. Was it so wrong to pay her back in her own coin? It was her husband, not I, who pledged her in the game of dice.” Suyodhana punched his fist into a pillar. Bhanumati flinched; that must have hurt. She stood in silence.

“Tell me something, woman. Why do you gape at me like an idiot? I will teach them a lesson – those five villains and their arrogant wife. Bastards!” Suyodhana spoke rapidly.

Bhanumati had heard enough. There was really no point talking to him anymore.

“Bhanu, where are you going?” Suyodhana grabbed her arm and jerked her back, peering into her eyes. She stared back, willing her tears to remain unshed. “Am I so evil, Bhanu?”

She heard his voice crack. When his arms embraced her she forgot every retort she had planned, the words she had rehearsed. She lifted his chin and looked into his eyes. Moonlight glistened in their tormented depths. ‘Perhaps the rest of the world sees him as evil but for me there is no one nobler,’ she thought.

He pressed his lips to hers and she tasted the saltiness of his tears on her lips. It did not last. The threatening face of Draupadi grew to fill the sky! The voice of the shamed woman filled the palace. Bhanumati pulled away from Suyodhana’s embrace and ran to her bed, hands over her ears to block out the sound.

Suyodhana came to her and cradled her head on his shoulder. His arms enfolded her as he spoke soothingly. Soon she was soaked in the fuzzy happiness of having her head on his shoulder. She wanted to remain thus until
pralaya
claimed the world. In the east, the sky blossomed like a hibiscus flower.

Her husband shattered the moment by reopening the wound. She looked at him in fear as he told her how he had stood up to Bhishma for Karna’s sake. ‘Why did he do that?’ she wondered as her heart beat like the drums of war.

“Now my friends have all gone, Bhanu. I feel alone. Perhaps I should have gone with Karna to meet the fanatics of the Confederate or with Aswathama to Gandhara. Why do I feel like a coward? Why am I so miserable, Bhanu?”

“It is their duty to protect the country, Suyodhana.” She hated herself for the envy bubbling inside her against her husband’s friends. The first rays of the sun had started sneaking in through the silk curtains and she could hear the sounds of servants cleaning the corridors and gardeners raking leaves in the garden. The world went on, not caring a damn about who died and who lived, who was shamed and who was honoured. The silence in her room was stifling. He had not answered her.

“Bhanu, have I failed Karna? Have I sacrificed Aswathama?”

‘Karna! He is the one who has changed my husband!’ Bhanumati clenched her fists. Why was he so important to him? More than Pitamaha, more than her. Something jarred in her mind whenever she thought of the Suta, noble and righteous though he was. ‘Perhaps it is Karna’s almost inhuman righteousness and generosity that frightens me,’ she thought.

As if reading her mind, Suyodhana stood up. He drew aside the silk curtains and stood with his hands gripping the window frame. The sun was rising over the Ganga, turning her waters into a sheet of gold. The fresh morning breeze carried the smell of blossoms, the chirping of birds and the faint shouts of the boatmen. “Bhanu, see the sun in his divine glory. I can see the face of Karna there.” He turned back to Bhanumati, his hair fluttering in the breeze. “It is a new day, the dawn of a golden future.”

She did not reply but her hands felt stiff. If Karna died in the war with the Confederate, she would get her husband back, for herself. She shuddered at the thought that singed her soul. ‘Oh God, it is a sin to even think like that. Karna, of all people! Forgive me, oh Shiva!’

“I am sure they will return, Bhanu. Both of them will be back. I have thirteen years to prove myself. Do not let this foolish incident with Draupadi and her husbands stand in the way of our happiness. I have no regrets. That woman and her husbands deserved it. May they never return. I am determined to create a world where no one is miserable, where a ruler can rule without discriminating; create a country where nobody goes hungry to bed and the law is equal for men and women, rich and poor alike. I need my friends with me and they know it. They will return and we will prove all this to the world. Bhanu, our kingdom will not deny men like Karna what is due to them because of caste, or be cruel to Nishadas and untouchables. I want to get into the cause of the Naga problem and resolve it. I want to do a hundred thousand things. I want the whole world to love me for my fairness; I want to be known as a righteous man who did not care for caste, who gave Karna, the noblest man of all, his life. I want my people to think there is no one better than Suyodhana. They will not hate me for what I did to that woman. There is no one who deserves the throne more than I. It is a new day, a new beginning.”

Bhanumati looked at him in surprise. He had spoken of his dreams many times before but something was different now. Something was unfamiliar, as if the window to the darkest place in Suyodhana’s mind had opened and light was falling on the dust in the corners. She felt she understood him now but wished she did not. Even his love for Karna was a reflection of his love for himself, his love for glory and fame. How then was he different from the Pandavas he hated? Was there a Yudhishtra hidden inside Suyodhana and vice versa? Was Duryodhana taking over Suyodhana?

“You are no different from Yudhishtra,” she said. Her hands flew to her mouth as if to stop the spoken words.

Suyodhana’s head snapped towards her in shock and anger. She wanted to look away but knew this was a decisive moment in her life. He walked to the door. “I cannot forgive or forget that,” he said.

“You cannot forgive me?” Bhanumati said, her voice choking with sobs. “It is you who should be asking for forgiveness, Suyodhana, for the way you treated Draupadi, not me.”

“Enough, woman! You are my wife. Do not forget your place. I have done nothing wrong. I am a Kshatriya.”

“Kshatriya! When has disrobing women become a Kshatriya trait? You talk about a caste-free society, yet stand on Kshatriya pride.” “She insulted Karna!” thundered Suyodhana.

“Oh, forget Karna. You and your friends! May the Suta never return from his war with the Southern Confederate! May the Brahmin die in Gandhara!”

Suyodhana rushed towards Bhanumati. Grabbing her hair, he pulled back her head. She saw murder in his eyes.

With a calm voice that made Suyodhana weak in the knees, she said, “Do it, Suyodhana. Kill me. It will not change the fact that what you did was wrong.”

The grip on her hair loosened. He turned away from her. She folded her hands and pleaded, “Natha, please. Ask for her forgiveness. Give your cousins their due. Be the husband I knew. Please...”

Suyodhana stood towering over her, the white shawl over his shoulder flapping in the breeze. The small lamp in the corner flickered, throwing light and shadow over his face in crazy patterns. A sudden gust snuffed it out and the smell of the burning wick filled the room. In the golden light of the rising sun seeping into the room, Bhanumati saw his face and all hope died.

***

Far away in Dwaraka, Ekalavya’s army had surrounded Krishna’s city. As the Nishada looked at the domes and spires of Dwaraka shining golden in the sunshine, he clenched his teeth in seething anger. The prosperity of Dwaraka was a sore sight when millions of Nishadas and Nagas lived no better than animals.

When the fort gates opened and Balarama’s army rushed out to confront the Nagas, Balarama was a worried man. He could feel the energy of Nishada’s army and sense their bloodlust. If only he could reach Ekalavya before too many people died in the pointless war, he might be able to convince him about the futility of all this violence. He could not capitulate or it would be nothing short of shameful surrender. As the King of the Yadavas, he had a duty to lead his people to victory, to protect them. Fight he would, but if there was a way to achieve a truce and avoid bloodshed, he would find that way.

A cruel smile played on Ekalavya’s lips at the sight of Balarama’s army. Victory was finally going to be his. He could see it in the way Balarama held his bow, the way he looked at his men, the lack of enthusiasm in the Yadava war cries. Without Krishna for protection, Dwaraka was going to succumb easily. He turned to his companions. “If Balarama offers a truce, we will seem to accept and then kill him once we enter the city. We will burn the city, kill all the men and take all the women. Their treasury brims with the wealth they have grabbed by exploiting the downtrodden. We will distribute it among our people. “

Balarama was walking into a trap.

*****

7
   
S
ERPENT
H
UNT

TAKSHAKA WAS GETTING IMPATIENT
. Why had Krishna’s army slowed down? Why had the wily Yadava dismounted? Had he sensed the trap or was it just a coincidence? His men were getting restless. A gray moon shone reluctantly in the sky. He cocked his ear to listen to what Krishna was saying to one of his men. The breeze was unfavourable and he could not hear what was being said. One of the Nagas coughed and Takshaka’s heart skipped a beat. Had it alerted Krishna? Had he heard? He hissed at his men to be silent.

***

“What has happened?” asked Kritavarma, sitting proudly erect on his horse. He was the Commander of the Narayana Sena, the famed elite corps of Yadava warriors trained personally by Krishna. Kritavarma had once been a close friend, but the carnage at Indraprastha had caused them to drift apart.

“Let us halt here.”

“Krishna, are you mad?” Kritavarma asked, surprised.

“I am tired and the boys, too, need a rest.” Krishna’s eyes never left the boulders in the distance. ‘I should never have spared Vasuki when we caught him in Indraprastha,’ he thought.

“So you would rather halt here and see Dwaraka reduced to rubble? Why are we wasting time?” Kritavarma asked, raising his voice.

“What can a few Nishadas do to us?” Krishna’s heart was pounding in his chest. If only he could provoke the Commander, he might be able to pull off something. “I have seen many Nishadas in Khandiva; they ran like mice before a cat when Arjuna and I...”

“Krishna! I do not wish to hear anything more concerning your disgraceful conduct in Khandiva.”