The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (7 page)

BOOK: The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2
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‘Which is?’

‘Your ideas of so-called equality and prosperity will do nothing but erode our way of life. It will destroy the Divine Order that we replicate in the earthly spheres.’

‘Do you hear yourself, Dharma? Your thoughts move like a blinkered horse…’ Panchali was incredulous. ‘You sound like Dwaipayana, the Vyasa! What are you, his lackey?’

‘I am true to what my teacher has taught me. We both serve the Divine, and we equally oppose the same evils. As for being a lackey, perhaps Govinda Shauri would like to hear these ideas of yours. Oh! I forget…you told him never to set foot in these lands while you are empress, or so I hear.’ His earlier anger against Govinda took hold of him, and words he did not quite mean spilled out of him. ‘Why did you do that, Panchali? Don’t you
need
him anymore now that you are Empress? Or did you simply tire of him?’

‘I told him to leave because I had to,’ Panchali said quietly. She added, for lack of other words to explain, ‘This is your empire, Dharma.
He
does not belong here.’

Her reply touched a chord, for Dharma shook his head mournfully. ‘You think you’ve banished Govinda from these lands? When will you realize that he is far from gone? Govinda Shauri is very much here,
Empress
. He is inside you. I hear him in your speech, and I see the fire of his soul in your eyes. Did you know that once upon a time, in the days when the Universe was very young, the gods themselves inhabited the Earth, just as the other domains? It was over time that they took to the skies along with the celestials, leaving the Earth to men and the netherworld to demons. Maybe it is true, and maybe not, but it is reason enough, all these centuries later, to find prosperity by following a path of duty and virtue, to maintain the order that has been set. What the Wrights did was contrary to the Divine Order. No matter how great their utility, it does not justify a return to their methods or devices. And that is why things must be the way they are, do you understand? Panchali, trust me. I say this for your own good.’

‘And what does your duty demand of you, Dharma?’

‘My duty demands that I keep the empire intact and stable. If this means overlooking upheavals and conflict, so be it. My duty is not to a single individual or a group, but to all of Aryavarta. I can’t remove taxes on these products as you ask.’

To his disappointment, Panchali was neither convinced nor intimidated by his rhetoric. ‘As you wish, Dharma,’ she said. With an elaborate and unneccessary bow she left the room.

Dharma stared after her till she disappeared from his sight. His jaw was set in uncharacteristic resolution and a vein throbbed in his temple as he willed himself not to call her back.
Aryavarta
. This was an empire of the Firstborn, of the faithful and devoted. There was no room here for heathen heretics, no room for Firewrights or their legacies. This, he noted with sullen determination, was
his
empire.

6

A SLEEPLESS PANCHALI GAZED DOWN FROM HER TERRACE – ONE
of the tallest in the city – at the wonder that was Indr-prastha or the White City, as it was now known outside Aryavarta. Visitors marvelled at the way the city’s man-made structures blended tastefully with both the natural undulations of the land and the varying hues of cultivated gardens and wild forests.

From where she stood, Indr-prastha appeared like a wave-filled sea with crescents of smooth, shimmering white, and troughs of deep, soothing green. Each wave was a cluster of white towers of varying heights separated from others by well-planned verdure. Further away were the walls that bound the city in a perfect square. Creepers and ivy climbed up the sides of the walls in dark patterns to blend into the green walkways on top. Filled with their reflections, during the day, the waters of the still, clear moat surrounding the outer side of the wall sparkled like a green jewel. Yet, the city’s pleasant form was not without function. The clustered arrangement of buildings allowed for parts of it to be held even when others might be breached, the verdure served as gathering space for armies, the creepers and walkways along the city walls hid sharp metallic spikes, and the placid moat had been lined with tiny but deadly barbs that could well be mistaken for fallen leaves or moss. Indr-prastha was as deadly as it was lovely, and not even its many residents knew of its dark secrets as they went about their incessant activities.

It was still some time to dawn, but the bustle of life and light had merely slowed down, not stopped. Lanterns lined the sides of the major roads like golden pearls, and even the smaller pathways were dimly lit at the least. Even in the deepest night, the city remained safe for an endless tide of visitors and the citizenry that welcomed them with open arms. Indr-prastha never slept.

The empire never sleeps. Those bound by servitude must always remain awake
, Panchali reminded herself, running a hand over her eyes. Of late, she felt constantly on the verge of tears, which was uncharacteristic of her. She told herself that it was because she was tired and overworked, stifling the tiny voice inside, which she knew spoke the truth. She had betrayed and been betrayed. But what haunted her was that she did not know to whom she owed the greater loyalty and, thus, who it was she had so miserably failed.

Soft footsteps made her turn. She smiled at the bearded scholar who approached her. He looked exactly like his older brother, but not entirely so. Dhaumya, royal priest in the court of Emperor Dharma Yudhisthir, had a kindness in his eyes that Devala the Firewright completely lacked.

‘Is it not too late for a man of renunciation to be out and about, Acharya?’ Panchali said.

‘Too late, yes, Mahamatra,’ Dhaumya replied, ‘but not to early. My day begins early, for I must tend to the gods before I can tend to the affairs of men…and women. I saw one of your attendants was up, and she told me that you were too. I don’t suppose you want a sleeping draught?’ he joked as he came to stand next to her.

Panchali raised an eyebrow. ‘Haven’t you filled us all up with that stuff already?’

‘There’s always room for more.’

The two laughed and a comfortable silence fell between them.

‘Tell me, Acharya,’ Panchali said after a while. ‘What do I still not know about the conspiracies around me?’

‘Conspiracy is a strong word, Empress. Besides, haven’t you already guessed all there is to know?’

‘I’ve had my suspicions, many of which have been confirmed. The question is, dare I take the last step and ask you a question?’

‘In my opinion, you should.’

‘Are
you
a spy, Dhaumya?’ Panchali’s manner was commanding and matter-of-fact, as only a ruler’s could be. Neither condescending nor overbearing, neither soft nor imposing, she was deceptively simple in her speech.

Dhaumya chuckled. ‘A spy? Surely, you don’t suspect me of treachery and intrigue?’ he asked.

‘Not at all. I leave those things to our common acquaintances. Of you, I expect intelligence and delicate but incisive action. I expect great loyalty to the one you’ve decided to serve, though perhaps even he knows it not.’

‘And who might such an ignorant master be?’

‘A stubborn gwala? For argument’s sake, let’s call him Govinda. Now, what would you deem your actions?’

‘My duty, Empress,’ Dhaumya said. ‘A greater duty than the one I may have to any master. The duty I owe to the truth, just as you do. To truth and justice.’

Panchali nodded at his graceful win. She asked, ‘Does that make me your enemy now?’

‘Because you defied Govinda? Because you think you thwarted his plans?’

‘Aren’t these sufficient reasons?’

‘They are good reasons, yes. But not sufficient.’

Panchali laughed at the wordplay. It felt good to share what lay on her mind frankly and with a touch of humour. She found herself opening up. ‘The Emperor refuses to remove the taxes on goods produced by the Nagas… I’d thought that I could get Dharma to agree… Not only did he oppose it, but he also did so most vehemently. He still associates science with Wright-work.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Give him time, Panchali. Now that Devala has been found and arrested, the Firstborn will slowly begin to see that there is no one to fear. Soon Dharma will realize this too, and not too long after many will begin thinking the same way. They will reach out and aspire to greatness and glory, and that will require science to fuel it. When that happens, Aryavarta will rise beyond its former splendour to heights we’ve never dreamt of. There is,’ he added philosophically, ‘immense virtue in fearlessness.’

Panchali considered the scholar’s quiet confidence even as old words echoed in her mind:
You think power and might lies only in armies and brute force? Prosperity can be power too.
Out loud she said, ‘You expected this, didn’t you?’

‘I did. Or rather, I should say…’

‘Govinda did,’ Panchali finished. ‘I feel like a fool, Dhaumya. I still don’t know whether I did right or wrong. Govinda said he dreamt of an empire built on the might of the Firstborn and the Firewrights, both. But is that not treachery or, at the least, foolishness? Tell me, please, what have I been so blind to? What have I failed to understand?’

‘I normally wouldn’t dare respond to that question, especially when it’s posed by a monarch,’ Dhaumya jovially began, ‘but in your case, I’ll trust in our long acquaintance and share my thoughts with you.’ He paused, thinking, and then continued, ‘Panchali, all of our scriptures can be condensed into one simple principle… One above all.’

‘The notion of a supreme maker, the power that was there even before existence came into being…’

‘Precisely. Now, I have no complaints about the statement; in fact, I shall accept it for what it is. But when you think of the body of philosophy that stems from this one principle, there are issues we can’t ignore. The scriptures it has spawned are all creations of mankind – earthly creations, if you will. They weren’t set down by this supreme power, but by the seers of old. I suppose one could call them hymns of information and adoration. We sing in praise of the Supreme, and we also speak of the greatest act of this Supreme Being – the act of creation, a creation that encompasses Swarga, the celestial realm, Earth, and Patala, the netherworld. From this principle, we derive the notion of Divine Order, of life on Earth mirroring the dance of all Creation. And there lies the problem. The moment we are ready to accept the notion that existence is divided into inferior and superior beings, a hierarchical system that is divinely orchestrated as the pinnacle of perfection, we start believing in domination and hierarchy as being moral and righteous. We submit to the gods and to those chosen by the gods. Rather than question this system, we use the notion of divine predestination to explain things – which is precisely what the Firstborn do. They believe in a world based on this Divine Order, and their role in it as ensuring it remains such. Even if it means believing in things that not everyone agrees is just and fair…’

‘The world as we know it wouldn’t make sense unless Ahalya were turned to stone…’ Panchali said, speaking to herself.

Dhaumya regarded her with kindness, guessing rightly where she had heard those words. ‘Yes. You understand, don’t you? These ideas, these irrevocable conceptualizations of good and bad are so deeply embedded within us that no one stops to ask why we are bound to our fate, what makes it unchangeable. Our rulers and our gods are all impervious to scrutiny. We put up with niggling inequities and blatant violations presuming that there must be a divine purpose or higher power that is beyond our comprehension. And then we reinterpret and redefine our past and present to fit in with the balanced view we have of the world. History, science, scripture – nothing remains untouched.’

‘Then nothing is constant?’

‘Nothing, except change. Evolution is not spurred by perfection and luxury, but by struggle. Today’s rulers were once rebels and revolutionaries.’

Panchali shook her head. ‘It sounds far too much like the notion of destiny. The inevitable, inexorable fate that rules us all.’

‘Would you say that a pebble thrown upwards will fall to the ground, because it is destined to fall? To say that it will fall is nothing more than an awareness of cause and effect… Rules we construct, and keep refining…’

‘We? You mean the Wrights?’ She fixed Dhaumya with a steady gaze. ‘That’s what you are, aren’t you, Dhaumya? A Firewright, just like Govinda Shauri.’

The scholar met her eyes with quiet confidence. ‘That word no longer holds the meaning it used to, Panchali. Not since my brother began calling himself that… But to answer your question, yes, I did train briefly with them. Not in warcraft, mind you, but in medicine. Atri Angiras was a master of healing, as was Agniveshya, his student.’

‘And here I thought you were a Varuni. Firstborn by training and birth, both,’ Panchali said, an indisputable hint of accusation in her tone.

Dhaumya took no offence. ‘I was. And I still am. But I am one of those that the Firewrights of old – true Wrights as they called themselves – considered a rebel,’ he said. ‘Don’t you see, Empress? I am as much the product of Govinda’s dreams as your empire – an empire built, as you mentioned, on the might of Firstborn and Firewright both. It was Govinda who took me to the Firewrights, as he did others of the Firstborn. It was he who convinced them that it was the way forward, that the only way to take politics out of science was to share their knowledge with those they sought to keep it safe from. As much as the Firstborn and Aryavarta’s own Emperor might begrudge it, the fact remains that the Firewrights are the very foundation of the empire. Their knowledge, now passed on to the people of Aryavarta as craft and skill, will fuel the future.’

‘By Rudra, I’m so tired of this pandering, this unshakeable faith in Govinda’s benevolence! Do you think I’m such a fool, that I can’t see who or what he really is?’ Suddenly aware of the rising pitch of her voice, Panchali forced herself to calm down. She took a deep breath before saying, ‘Maybe he meant well, once. But I cannot trust him anymore, not after all the intrigue and manipulation. He believes that the ends justify the means, but I can’t agree with those methods. Nothing has sanctity in his eyes anymore. He will stop at nothing.’

BOOK: The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2
10.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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