The Thirteenth Day (24 page)

I shook my head, ‘It sounds too dangerous.’

Abhimanyu rolled his eyes, ‘The Chakravyuha is coming closer, Uncle. It’s the only way.’

He looked at Dhristadyumna and Bhima, who looked at me for direction.

It’s always up to the eldest.

I nodded and grasped Abhimanyu by the shoulder as he was about to spring away.

‘Okay, lad. You have your chance. But no tricks inside. Go safely and guide us in quickly. Once we’re in, we’ll join you.’

He smiled at me and scampered off to his chariot.

‘No glory hunting!’ I shouted to his back.

Dhristadyumna assembled a wedge of chariots for Abhimanyu almost instantly, each of which carried archers and infantry. He would be followed in by the Indraprastha contingent under Bhima, the Panchalas under Dhristadyumna and Yadavas under Satyaki. I would command the rest of the troops till they had secured a way in and join them later.

As an added measure, Bhima assigned Bali to be Abhimanyu’s personal bodyguard in the vyuha.

I accompanied Abhimanyu as he joined his troops and reminded him repeatedly till his chariot took off that he was going in there to save the army, and not to become a hero.

I
sat with Pradyumna on a little cliff overlooking the sea of Dwaraka.

Father had come to Dwaraka after thirteen years and the city had welcomed his chariot with flowers and wine, dousing him liberally from their homes as he entered the city streets. Father smiled embarrassedly and looked down for the most part. He had entered the city and gone straight to Uncle Krishna’s palace. I had been summoned from my lectures into the Hall of Conference where they sat. I entered the hall and sat in a corner. Father was speaking.

‘I’m telling you, the Kauravas are not giving us a choice, Krishna. They aren’t even letting us have Indraprastha. It’s war.’

Krishna saw me and motioned me to come. ‘We’ll talk later. Recognize this young man, if you can.’

I hadn’t seen him for thirteen years now. He had come to Dwaraka to ask for troops.

All talk of war was forgotten when he saw me, of course. And we spoke of more mundane things. Of my education, of my aunt and four uncles and, of course, his travels.

A trip to the south had taken him into the home of a military scholar. They had spoken till late in the night over glasses of Soma about formations, flanking manoeuvres, troop coordination and all the other little things that make war look complicated.

‘His ideas were extraordinary for someone who has never set foot on the field. He showed me something he was working on—a formation shaped like a chariot wheel, a Chakravyuha.’ He went on to explain the formation, and how it could be broken. Before he finished though, my mother entered the hall and monopolized the conversation.

So I went to meet Pradyumna and told him about the vyuha.

He didn’t have much to say.

‘Interesting.’

‘Interesting? It’s revolutionary.’

He didn’t react. Our views on war were and will be entirely different for the next seven lives.

‘The formation is all right. I am still at a loss to understand why anyone would think we needed another way of murdering people, much less conceive it.’

‘Ha! Pacifist. You’ve always been one. Admit it.’

‘I learn to fight so I can defend myself. Nothing more.’

I laughed.

‘We learn to fight so people can fear us, Pradyumna. One day, their fear will turn to awe, and years later, it will become legend. War is nothing but a logical extension of our desire to be feared. That is the truth.’

He looked out into the murky grey waters. The sea wind drummed at our ears. And its sharp salty tang danced in our nostrils.

‘You may be right, Abhimanyu. But consider this. I take fear to be a manifestation of love. When we fear for someone or something—it could be a person, wealth, power—it is because we cannot see ourselves complete without it. We then project our fear onto any person or object who is trying to threaten that which we love. This is called hate. War, or any invasion, is a manifestation of hate. When we hate something so much that we forget to protect what we fear for and seek to destroy what threatens it. I fight, therefore, to protect. And not to invade and destroy. That is why I will not enter the field of battle until someone threatens the ones I love.’

He was making his stance on Kurukshetra perfectly clear. He would not fight over kingdoms. It was a brave step considering almost everyone in the Yadavas had taken a side. For the past week, he had infuriated various factions who were requesting him to join them. The only person who was staunchly in his corner was Krishna.

‘So what does Suyodhana fear…that makes him fight a war?’

My question made Pradyumna think. He looked into the ocean and allowed it to hypnotize him. His words came out softly, still raw from contemplation.

‘I think he fears letting go of a kingdom he’s spent thirteen years trying to build. To him, it is as much his child as you are to your father.’

I was about to change the topic when he asked me with a chuckle, ‘And what do you fear, Abhimanyu? What makes you go to war?’

I had thought about it enough in my life since my father had left me on the shores of Dwaraka so many years ago. It was an easy answer. But I paused for gravity, nonetheless.

‘Being forgotten.’

The conversation came back to me as I readied my line. I realized my hands were trembling when I strapped my helmet a notch tighter. I was giddy and my head felt heavy. Was I afraid? Of battle? I had been in too many of them. Was I afraid of entering the Chakravyuha? Perhaps. Did I need to be the one to break into it? Uncle Bhima had said he’d do it. There was still time. I could tell Uncle Dhristadyumna…

I closed my eyes and shook the thoughts out of my head. Nerves. I hadn’t felt them for a long time. I took a deep breath, said a prayer to calm myself and went to the head of the chariot wedge.

I took out my conch and blew a long peal. Sumitra looked behind at me and spoke, ‘Putra, I don’t have a good feeling about this.’

‘That’s what you always say, you old sissy.’

‘No, putra. This time I’m serious. It’s one thing to take on a single Kaurava in an open field, but we’re going straight into their jaws. All of them will be waiting there. How many will you slay? You are yet young. Another should take your place.’

He looked at me with concern, and a tinge of hopefulness. Thinking that I would agree and step down from the chariot and go with my tail tucked between my legs to my uncles.

Not a chance, old man.

I ignored his plea. ‘Prepare for the charge. I can see Guru Drona’s standard back in the centre. That is where we will have to be by the end of the day.’

Our chariot wedge rumbled to life. I screamed my Yadava war cry of ‘Dwaraka’ as we hurtled towards the Chakravyuha.

Bali was beside me on his chariot. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his chin towards the gap, daring me to enter.

I couldn’t possibly say no.

A
bhimanyu’s plan was working.

He and the men had managed to break into the vyuha. Behind him, Dhristadyumna and Bhima were getting ready to launch the Indraprastha Chariots.

Satyaki was with me as we watched the Kauravas desperately try to close the gap.

‘Looks like fun. I wouldn’t mind giving it a go.’

He looked at me and laughed.

Bhima had taken his squadron of chariots and headed towards the breach when a single chariot crossed into the gap that was beginning to swell with our men and started fighting them single-handedly.

It was the king of the Sindhus, Jayadratha. And he was soon joined by more chariots that ran over our troops and attempted to close the gap. A stream of axemen and macemen burst out from behind him and pressed our men hard in the flanks.

Bhima got off his chariot with his mace and advanced towards Jayadratha who also got down from his chariot with an axe and hacked down a soldier who tried to lance him. He ran at Bhima and butted him with his shoulder. Bhima fell down, slipping in the blood. Jayadratha heaved his axe and I held my breath but Bhima rolled out of the way just as it descended. More soldiers came to Jayadratha’s aid and Bhima was soon outnumbered.

This was suicide. I told my charioteer to move in, when Dhristadyumna barred me with his hand and pointed at Chekitana who was running into the fray, evening the odds.

More Kauravas began filling the gap. And fewer of our soldiers were making it out alive. Chekitana and his men had gotten to Bhima and pulled him away from the fight. Jayadratha had left the melee and had gone back into the gap, which was piling with the bodies of our dead and abandoned chariots.

The Kauravas set up a roar. The gap had finally closed…with Abhimanyu and his chariots in the vyuha’s folds. I looked at Bhima who was gesturing Dhristadyumna to send more troops. Satyaki followed. And so did Ghatotkacha and his troubadours. I took a division of Panchalas and went in behind them.

Bhima, Satyaki and Chekitana combined their forces for an attack. Jayadratha sent foot soldiers to meet them with large platoons of archers behind.

Ghatotkacha’s men went singing something I was too distraught to pay attention to. At close range, the bows just chopped them down and Dhristadyumna pulled them back before they got completely slaughtered. I saw Ghatotkacha hobbling back into our lines, an arrow in his knee.

I would go next.

A
Kaurava soldier with an axe raised his blade and jumped several feet in the air towards me. I didn’t have time to aim, but at that distance I didn’t have to. I pulled my string back and let the arrow fly. It smashed into his chest, stopping him mid-flight. He fell to the ground, coughed and lay back to die.

The Kauravas had closed in behind us, sealing the exit. I turned around and saw the backs of their troops as they assembled frantically into position. We were trapped inside. There was no time to think. But I allowed myself the luxury anyway. Better to spend a few moments in contemplation, and arrive at the finish line a little late than never arrive at all, as Mother would say.

Two options presented themselves to me. The first, to pry open the gap that had just closed from the inside while my uncles worked their way in from the outside. And there was the second option to break further into the vyuha, causing as much destruction as we could, so that by the time the rest of our forces made their way in, they would have an easier path in front of them.

The first option had its flaws. There was no guarantee we would succeed. In attacking the first circle from the back, we would have exposed our own to the second layer and would be at their mercy.

The second option was more interesting. Slaughter our way into the centre. Maybe even kill a king or two. Uncle Bhima would crack the mouth open at some point, after all. But we would have to last out till he came, against more than three-fourths of their army.

Suicide.

An arrow whizzed by me, and stuck itself in the neck of an Indraprastha chariot archer. I looked in the direction it came from but the archer was gone.

In the distance I spotted Guru Drona’s battle standard waving at me gently and made my decision.