The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (49 page)

Panchali turned to go and was almost out of the room when Uttara called out, ‘Wait.’ Panchali stopped, but did not turn. Uttara continued, ‘If Abhimanyu touches me, he dies. Him, not me, be clear. I’m not one to suffer anything and everything. I will agree to this wedding, because I know it is what Govinda Shauri wants. But it is an arrangment – that is all it is. You can tell that brat to stay away from me.’

‘All right.’ Panchali left without looking at Uttara. She also did not bother with tears, not then, nor later as she lay sleepless throughout the night.

A week later, on what turned out to be a fine, cloudless morning, Abhimanyu and his kinspeople, including his mother Subadra, were led through the city of Upaplavya amidst a jubilant convoy of dancers and musicians. The moment they entered the palace, Govinda slipped away from the ceremonial procession. He moved around the chief’s court, joyously greeting old friends and allies, jesting and striking up conversations. He was constantly flanked by Shikandin and the recently arrived Dhaumya, who had been sent for to perform the wedding ceremonies. The sight of the three old friends took Balabadra and Yuyudhana back many years.

‘Keep him out of trouble, will you?’ Balabadra jovially ordered Dhaumya.

‘He
is
trouble!’ the scholar pointed out in return.

When Dharma stood up from the Chief’s throne to formally welcome all the guests to the wedding, the three of them made their way back to the front of the assembly. As everyone took his or her place for the wedding ceremony, the groom was led away for a ritual bath and to change into wedding finery, while Dharma and Virat exchanged gifts and made pledges of friendship and alliance. Govinda looked around, but could not see Panchali anywhere. They had exchanged no words, not even socially, since the day he had told her to speak to Uttara, and he wondered if she were avoiding him. He had caught a glimpse of her now and then from a distance, but before he could approach her, she had always disappeared. And now, too, she remained elusive.

Subadra noticed his preoccupation and whispered, ‘She is with Uttara…Look!’ she exclaimed softly, as Abhimanyu was led back into the hall.

‘Pradymna’s spoilt him!’ Subadra lovingly complained.

‘What can I say? He’s such a gem.’

Abhimanyu approached Dharma and Virat where they sat, and greeted them both. Virat stood up and offered his son-in-law his place, as was custom. Abhimanyu was visibly hesitant, but he went forward to stand in front of the carved seat. His discreet refusal to sit on it did not go unnoticed, and the burly Chief drew the younger man into an impulsive embrace. Sankha, Swetha and Bhuminjaya, too, were discernibly warmer towards Abhimanyu after that.

Princess Uttara was led out by a group of women. A light, golden veil covered her face, and her eyes remained on the ground before her. Govinda knew better than to mistake it for modesty, and he felt a new emotion tug painfully at his heart. He tried yet again to find Panchali. She was not there.

‘Come on, we can’t stand here like some distant cousins!’ Subadra hissed and led Govinda to the foot of the ceremonial dais. There she let go of her brother’s hand and went up to join her husband.

Shortly, Dhaumya called for everyone to bless the wedded couple. Abhimanyu grabbed Uttara’s hand with an air of familiarity, and the two sought blessings from the assembled guests. ‘Flirt!’ Govinda muttered to himself, beaming with delight at the scene.

‘He’s
your
son, remember?’ a very familiar and welcome voice sounded in his ear. Govinda turned, a rare expression of absolute surprise on his face. ‘For once,
I
managed to sneak up on
you
, Govinda. You have no idea how hard it was! But I must admit that the look on your face just now was worth the effort…’

‘How, Panchali…?’ he asked her, referring to the couple before them.

‘I trust your upbringing, Govinda. Abhimanyu won’t touch her unless she lets him. As for her… I made her see reason. Just as you once made me see reason. One woman for an empire is a very fair trade, is it not? But, I must admit, I was afraid for a while that Uttara was already in love with someone else, maybe even an incorrigible, flirtatious cowherd… But no. It wasn’t as bad as all that.’

‘Was it not? Is reason truly everything, Panchali?’

‘You know it isn’t. You know there’s more inside you. And that is what keeps me going.’

Govinda stared at a Panchali he had not known before. Ruthless and calculating, yet hopeful and spirited. After all that had happened in all this time, she seemed…
Reforged. Tempered by fire.
‘Panchali…’ he began, but fell silent, unable to find the words to tell her how much he admired her. How much he had missed her. How much he cared for her. Finally, with a smile of contentment, Govinda took her hands and held them tight.

33

‘
YOU CAN’T BLAME ME FOR NOT LIKING MATSYA, PANCHALI. I’M
a cowherd – I need greenery, pastures, rolling fields. Not sand… and then more sand!’

Panchali clucked her tongue in mock sympathy as she led Govinda across a dry stretch of ground from the forge towards the quarters that Chief Virat had surrendered for Dharma’s use. Despite her playful tone, her words were serious. ‘Are you angry with me?’

‘For destroying those potions? Or for letting Devala escape alive?’

‘Both.’

‘Neither, Panchali. In fact, I am not angry at all. You did what you had to do, and I…’ Govinda stopped in his tracks and stood looking at the building ahead. It was alive with the bustle and flurry of a wedding just concluded but a strained sobriety lay under all the activity. ‘How is he?’ he said, ‘Our lord and master, the Emperor?’

‘Surprisingly content and settled. The advantage of being a man of principle is that once your values are indulged, it is easy to find peace.’

‘He’s not unlike his grandfather, Dwaipayana. Or perhaps it is a Firstborn trait.’

Panchali laughed. ‘Is that why you find it so easy to manipulate him?’

‘Manipulate? You make me sound evil, Panchali. Am I evil?’

‘Never! You’re just highly useful, Govinda, as evil sometimes is. You were useful to Dwaipayana by keeping a secret. Now, you’ve made yourself useful to Dharma by sharing the same secret. Where is the evil in that? But, I wonder, did you get what you wanted out of it?’

Govinda turned to face her. ‘What do you think I wanted, Panchali?’

‘What you’ve always wanted.’

‘Are you going to accuse me of ambition and hunger for power yet again? I did not at all enjoy our last conversation along those lines. Besides, I’m overdressed for it.’

Panchali could not help but smile. She said, ‘You sent us here, didn’t you? Vidur was acting on your instructions. Why? Why here?’

‘So that all I needed kept safe, would be so. I did not want anyone to find you, Panchali. I did not want anyone to hurt you. But the mistake I made, one of many, is that I thought Matsya had more time.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Matsya’s isolation was meant to foster change. You’ve already seen the evolution of their craft – Uttara found nothing strange about a flame-tailed arrow, even though Partha could not even think of it, as he told us. But more important was the change in their way of life. Matsya’s is a far more equal society than the rest of Aryavarta. I admit, it is far from perfect, but it is a step. You see, the rest of Aryavarta concentrated power – not just moral or martial power, but power over effort, over resources and the produce of the earth – in the hands of a few, and did so in the name of Divine Order and a righteous way of life. And the few who have the power tend to struggle with each other over it – just as the Firstborn and Firewrights have. But today, when faced with the unique creature that is Matsya, a place where equality is intrinsic to justice, and power lies in the hands of the people and not a chosen few, a man like Dharma Yudhisthir does not know whether he owes his loyalty to the Firstborn or to the Firewrights. And so, his decisions will come not from blind allegiance, but from reason and greater good. As will Syoddhan’s, for that matter.’

Panchali frowned, trying to understand. ‘So you needed to isolate Matsya long enough for this change to happen? But how could you force something like that to happen?’

‘I…we…didn’t force it, Panchali. The isolation began as a result of many events, most of which were socially inevitable and all of which were beyond our control. The failure of the Firewrights to divert the river, Satya’s own actions, the resultant escalation of the Great Scourge and the rise of the Firstborn – all these are part of the greater cycle of Time. All we could do was to try and ensure that the isolation lasted long enough for it to allow these changes to happen within Matsya.’

Panchali was unconvinced. ‘You make it sound so easy, Govinda. But how could you…or Ghora, or your fellow Wrights, know what to do, or for that matter what path Matsya would, in fact, take?’

‘Because, my dear, the Creator doesn’t play dice. The universe is a very efficient place, and we are its rational products. Matsya was a result of social evolution – as was Dwaraka. But the mistakes we made with the younger, newer idea of Dwaraka taught us better how to deal with Matsya. We Yadus were a society based on our livestock, not unlike Matsya, and that made it easier to give each person some degree of power over their lives. Although, we could never completely change the structures of power – even at its height, Dwaraka’s Council members were mostly all former Yadu vassal princes despite our pretence at equality by calling them leading citizens and such. And so, at the first opportunity, Dwaraka begins to regress to what it once was – a bunch of infighting tribes, led by a few men acting in their own interests. Dwaraka lacked isolation. It lacked balance.’

Panchali said, ‘So, the imperial campaign… You wanted to build an empire, not just because you wanted to unify Aryavarta but also because you wanted to isolate Matsya…’

‘Absolutely! The empire never really did cover Matsya. And to ensure that the isolation would last adequately long, I fostered internal dissent – or balance, if you will – within Matsya. The tensions between Virat and Keechak, for example. This ensured that at any point Matsya would not only resist conquest, but also that the ruler of Matsya couldn’t upset the plan and rise as a tyrant to conquer the unified Aryavarta.’

Panchali felt a pang of guilt. ‘I…we…Keechak…’

‘I know. Bhim told me. It’s all right, Panchali. These actions don’t change the larger tide of events all that much; not at this stage, anyway. The point is, Aryavarta would move towards this moment, towards Matsya, irrespective of who sat on the throne. What Dharma would have done, had he remained Emperor, is not very different from what Syoddhan did.’

‘Then…then why did you stop Syoddhan? Why did you come here? What is Matsya to you, Govinda? Your secret stash of weaponry? A private army at your command?’

‘I think you already know, Panchali, and you’re just teasing me. Matsya was an opposite. An antidote. The other that makes the whole, just as you and I make each other whole.’

Even as Panchali struggled to place her emotions, Govinda said, ‘I didn’t come here for Matsya. I came here for you. Telling Virat the truth about Satya, placing Dharma back on a throne, Uttara’s marriage…all of that has no other purpose than to protect you. Dharma, Syoddhan – it makes no difference to me who rules Aryavarta or what becomes of the Firstborn and Firewrights. All I know is that I can’t let you be hurt again, not by Syoddhan, nor Dharma, nor Virat or anyone else. My arrogance and my ambition have brought you great hardships. Can you ever forgive me?’

Panchali wanted nothing more than to laugh; no, all she wanted was to cry. But the sensation passed, and she settled into quiet contentment. ‘Do you regret your actions?’ she asked lightly.

Govinda answered in all seriousness, ‘Not in the least.’

‘There is nothing to forgive, Govinda. You have done with me as you would with yourself. But if that was your way of telling me this conversation is over then
I
must ask
your
forgiveness, for it most certainly is not.’

Govinda laughed, quiet but wholeheartedly, as he hadn’t in a long time. His eyes looked just a little less shallow, a little less tired, as though something within him had stopped tearing itself apart. ‘It is over for me, Panchali. Not just this conversation, but this whole journey. Now that you are safe, it is enough.’ He paused and chose his words carefully. ‘When we met at Kamakya, you refused to come with me. I understand why. The secrets I have kept bound me to Aryavarta, to its fate. Now,’ he took a deep breath, ‘I am a free man. I am free of Dharma, of the Secret Keeper, of Dwaipayana… I owe them nothing. I hide nothing. It is over, Panchali. Let us leave Aryavarta.’

‘You want me to come with you?’

‘I want you to come with your brother. We shall take Shikandin with us. He’s been through unspeakable pain. I find myself unable to look into his eyes, there is so much…so much sorrow and…’ Govinda shook his head, and said, ‘Oh Rudra, Panchali. Leave for yourself, of your own will. I will not be judged by another, and neither should you. Let us do as we will.’

‘That sounds selfish, Govinda. It is not a quality I’d readily associate with you – dispassionate creature of reason that you are.’

‘Some things are more important than reason, Panchali. And for that you can call me selfish, or an idiot, or anything else you like.’

‘Selfish idiot?’

‘That too. I look forward to hearing many more such compliments from you. It promises to be a worthy application of whatever time may be left to us. But as far as Aryavarta is concerned…our days here are finished. It would be foolishness to not admit it and let go. It is over. There is nothing left here to fight for, anymore.’

Panchali heard herself say the words, ‘Nothing left to fight for, Govinda, is nothing left to lose.’

For all his unflappable equanimity Govinda Shauri the cowherd looked as though he had failed to tell a cow from a bull.

34

IT WOULD, GOVINDA KNEW, BE A DRAMATIC EXAGGERATION TO
pretend that Panchali had not aged. True, age sat better on her than it did on many others, and he found nothing but beauty in the fine lines by her eyes and the creases that her smile left behind. Her hair, once as black as the darkest night sky, held traces of grey elegantly distributed in streaks as though to be otherwise scattered would be a disservice to her grace.