Bhishma turned to the Prime Minister and asked with a hint of humour, "Vidhura, my son, why are you so glum?"
"Sir, Shakuni is spoiling the boys. If we do not send him back to Gandhara, he will destroy our country."
"You are giving him too much credit. What can his puny little kingdom in the mountains do to this mighty land? No, I am more worried about the internal dangers that threaten us. We bought peace with Parashurama at great cost but I am regretting it now. We did not have a choice then, did we? It was either that or breaking my vow of celibacy and marrying the King of Kashi's eldest daughter... what was her name?" Bhishma's gaze returned to the world outside the window.
Vidhura knew it was prudent to remain silent. On most days, the Regent's conversation touched upon those turbulent days of his life. Bhishma had conquered the ancient kingdom of Kashi and carried off the three beautiful princesses, Amba, Ambika, and Ambalika, to Hastinapura, as brides for his stepbrother, Vichitraveera. However, Amba was already in love with the Prince of Shalva. When Bhishma heard this, he allowed her to return. But the Prince of Shalva's pride had been hurt when he had been compelled to fight Bhishma to save the Princess from abduction and had been defeated in humiliating fashion. He spurned Amba on her return. She travelled back to Hastinapura to beg the celibate Bhishma to marry her instead. Bound by the vow of celibacy made to his dead father, Bhishma refused the Kashi Princess.
The story had been told many times by the Grand Regent and others. Vidhura often felt he had actually witnessed the incidents though they had happened before he was born. Vidhura could visualize the distraught face of the doe-eyed Princess of Kashi, begging the adamant Bhishma to marry her. Then, seeing that neither her curses nor her heartfelt pleas had any effect on the Regent of the Kurus, she had left for her father's palace, only to find herself rejected there as well. It was then that Parashurama's spies found her and the plot to invade the Great Plains was hatched by the Southern Confederate.
"I should not have agreed to the truce." Vidhura had lost count of the number of times he had heard Bhishma's lament. "The evil of caste is spreading its tentacles in this holy land and I am ashamed that I did not fight Bhargava Parashurama to the last. He and his nasty band of soldiers have ruined our country. How do the once proud Asuras tolerate him? How did those ancient kingdoms fall into the grip of the Brahmins? The Asuras are the same people who once proclaimed the equality of all men under Mahabali and produced the proud and brilliant Ravana. It never ceases to surprise me what defeat can do to people. History is a bitter teacher. Not even the great Rama could have envisaged the misery he was inflicting upon the poor of the South when he defeated the last Asura Empire under Ravana. He did us all a great disservice when he left the South to Vibhishana and the Parashurama clan. Had Rama ruled directly, perhaps he could have stemmed the evil. Just see what centuries of subjugation have brought them to now."
Vidhura averted his eyes. He wanted to comment that it was no better here in Hastinapura. He still smarted from the insult Guru Drona had meted out to him when he had recommended the son of the charioteer.
Bhishma looked into his Prime Minister's eyes and smiled. "I know what you are thinking. That it is as bad here as there. But you have not seen the world. I am sorry I have to say this to make my point. You are my nephew, but still you are a Shudra, since your mother was a house cleaner. Here you are taunted for your caste, irrespective of your talent and knowledge. Kunti and her Brahmin advisers resent you. So you think life is tough for you. Ha... had you been in one of those kingdoms where Parashurama's writ rules, you would be living far from the capital city, untouchable, unapproachable, illiterate, ignorant, and no better than a pig. That is caste for you; not suffering these little taunts from jealous people. If my capital were Muzaris or Madurai, instead of Hastinapura, I would now be washing my palace with cow dung and urine to cleanse the ground polluted by your footsteps. Parashurama and his followers are unhappy we do not follow their version of the scriptures and impose such laws on our people."
Vidhura flushed at the Grand Regent's words. It was embarrassing to be reminded of his origins. Had he not worked hard to learn the scriptures, the Upanishads, the sciences of mathematics, astronomy, astrology, as well as music - all that could be learnt? Had he not served his motherland with devotion and dedication? Was he not loyal to the proud man before him? Even the Grand Regent of the Kurus bestowed his kindness as a favour to a poor Shudra boy. His talent and intelligence did not count. Perhaps his presence helped Bhishma feel broadminded. Vidhura thought he was like a prize dog - intelligent and handsome, but a dog nevertheless. At such times, Vidhura hated his job and his master with equal loathing.
"The war we waged with the Southern Confederate under Bhargava Parashurama was not about my rejection of the Princess of Kashi, though that rascal cleverly used the issue as propaganda. Parashurama neutralized our allies using the issue. We had to fight in the treacherous jungles of the Vindhyas. I shudder to think how cheaply human life was lost there. The brutal pogrom Parashurama unleashed claimed the lives of so many Nagas, Nishadas, Kiratas and Vanaras, who had lived peacefully in those jungles from time immemorial. They were expendable as they belonged to untouchable, unapproachable, dirty and polluted castes. What choice did I have? He would have exterminated them all. There was no alternative but to agree to his conditions. I had no choice..."
A sandstorm was gathering on the far horizon. Vidhura could feel it in the air. 'You could have married Amba and called Parashurama's bluff,' he thought, but did not dare say it.
"I could never have married that girl. I earned the name Bhishma only after taking my oath of celibacy. Else, I would have been a mere Gangadatta. I owe everything to my brahmacharya. No, I did not have a choice. The truce was made and I allowed Parashurama's schools of learning and his guild of Brahmins into our kingdom. And see where we are now. Caste practices that had been fading made a great comeback. You know, there were murmurs when my father married a fisherwoman, but nobody ran around calling her names. Not that she would have tolerated such nonsense. I have never seen any woman as strong willed as my stepmother Satyavathi. She was a great lady. It might shock Parashurama, but the fact is that the entire Kuru race originated in the womb of a fisherwoman. A King marrying a mere fisherman's daughter! Can we imagine that now? Times have changed for the worse and I played a part in it. That is what grieves me every day."
A dry breeze ruffled the silk curtains and carried some fine desert dust into the room. The sounds of boys playing filtered into the room from the gardens below.
"Maybe I should have sacrificed a few more Nishada and Naga lives and continued the war. But I thought I was supporting the cause of the poor and that a truce would end the misery of the tribes who lived on the fringes of our kingdom. I wanted Bhargava to take his warrior hoards back and leave us in peace. I thought I was saving the tribes from total annihilation at the hands of Parashurama's army. After the truce, Bhargava was true to his word and went back to his kingdom on the southwestern coast but he left a legacy of bitterness that still haunts us. He gave birth to the evil called Takshaka."
Takshaka's name dragged Vidhura back from his own stream of thought. "The attack by Takshaka... I have my suspicions. I think I know who helped him into the fort that night, Sir."
But Bhishma continued to stand at the window, staring towards the faraway mountains and the river snaking through the wheat fields. The sun was descending into the western horizon. As happened all too often, Vidhura had missed lunch. Work pressure was mounting day by day and there was no respite from the responsibilities Bhishma piled on him. "I think it was Prince Shakuni who aided Takshaka in that daredevil night raid."
Bhishma turned towards him. "What makes you think so? Shakuni? That no-account? I cannot believe it."
Vidhura did not have proof for now and cursed himself for having blurted out the name, knowing the tongue-lashing that would inevitably follow. "I saw him praying facing West." Vidhura stopped, flinching at Bhishma's l
ook of astonishment.
"You saw Shakuni pray facing West and concluded he is a traitor? So the mark of patriotism is to pray facing East? A traitor is someone who prays facing West? Is this your theory? This is a free country and people can pray facing in any direction. Some even do so upside down, like the naked sadhus or some of the Aghoris. Others choose not to pray at all, like Carvaka. Do you consider them traitors as well? I expected a little more logic from you, Vidhura."
"It is not just that. I saw him help a fallen Naga soldier that night and did not like the expression on his face." Vidhura saw amusement in the old man's face. All his insecurities raised their heads like a many-hooded cobra. He cursed himself for making a fool of himself. "I have a hunch he was behind it."
Bhishma moved towards his loyal subordinate and put an arm around his shoulders. "Vidhura, my boy, I think you really need a break. You have started hallucinating. Have you ever tried to understand who Takshaka is and what he stands for?"
"He is a terrorist."
"They use terror, but they are not terrorists. The rebellion led by the Nagas is a reaction to our failure to protect the weak and downtrodden. Takshaka is a creation of that failure. The State's duty is to protect the weak from being oppressed by the strong. When the State fails to do so, the weak will rebel. In a way, the truce I made with Parashurama led inevitably to the rise of Takshaka. He is the mirror opposite of Parashurama."
"Swami... that does not..."
"That does not sound right, Vidhura? Think! What does Parashurama want? Complete Brahmin hegemony and his interpretation of our holy scriptures to prevail. He wants to be the absolute power centre. Parashurama's clan has been waging war against all other castes, and the Kshatriyas in particular, for a thousand years, to establish a perfect kingdom for the Brahmins. All of South India resented the evil of caste. But now it is more entrenched there than in the great plains of the North where it originated. Due to the enlightened rule of my father, Shantanu, and my stepmother, Satyavathi, and the efforts of sages like Vyasa, our kingdom has slowly been getting back its humane face. Whereas in Dakshinajanapada, things have gone from bad to worse. Countries wax and wane in culture, enlightenment, thought and prosperity. Parashurama has ruined the great kingdoms of the South and now they are mere backwaters compared to our own kingdom."
"But what has that to do with the rise of Takshaka and his warriors?"
"Takshaka is nothing but a Naga Parashurama. He too, wants a perfect world where the oppressed becomes the oppressor. All his talk about equality is mere eyewash. If he wins, he will be just another tyrant, like Parashurama. Then the hunted will be the Brahmins, Kshatriyas and Vaishyas, and even other Shudras, who the Nagas think are not downtrodden enough. In fact, it will be far worse than Parashurama taking over, since not all Brahmins accept his narrow ideology. The likes of Kripa and Carvaka among the Brahmins, may rebel and die as martyrs if Parashurama succeeds. In the case of Takshaka, no such opposition exists, except for the might of Hastinapura. It is easier to fool and brainwash a poor Nishada or Naga, who has barely anything to eat and almost nothing to lose, by offering a brave new world. It is easy to get such people to die for his cause, because the people Takshaka has chosen as his tools, are those we abandoned to starve long ago. We have appropriated their farmlands, driven them away from their forests, and chased them out of our royal footpaths, so now they have nowhere to go but into the embrace of the Naga leader. Since none of our Brahmin teachers is prepared to instruct anyone other than Brahmins or Kshatriyas, we are creating legions of illiterate and ignorant folk who will be ready to die for Takshaka's cause. When our schools fail to teach our children what they should know, other schools take their place and teach different lessons, which we may not like. We are building our own funeral pyre."
Vidhura stood silent, thinking that the kind of education he himself had received would now be impossible for any Shudra boy. Things had changed so much for the worse in this land. No one with the baggage of low caste, like him, could aspire to be even a clerk in government service, let alone the Prime Minister of Hastinapura. Merit no longer counted. Every position was based on caste.
"What happened to that brave boy, Vidhura?"
Vidhura's anger and resentment flooded back as Bhishma reminded him of Karna. He still smarted from Drona's insult. "The Guru refused him, saying he was a Suta, not Brahmin or Kshatriya."
"That I know, but I have also heard he is now studying under Kripa."
"Yes, but I do not think Kripa is teaching the boy about arms."
"Yes, that is what appears strange. I cannot understand that Brahmin. Why is he teaching Karna rituals that only a Brahmin should know? The country will lose a great warrior if the boy becomes a Priest. Given his origins, I do not think any temple will give him a job. They will not allow him anywhere near. So what is Kripa doing?"
"Swami, if you could speak to Guru Drona..."
"Vidhura, the Guru is adamant. I do not want a situation where he disobeys my orders. He is a great teacher and warrior. If he disobeys me, I will have to sack him and he might end up with one of our enemy kingdoms. He is a disciple of Parashurama and if he goes back to him, it will be disastrous for us. I will bet on a seasoned warrior like Drona over an untrained boy like Karna. So many boys show early promise and then turn out to be nobodies. Why should we take the risk of losing Drona? It is unfortunate that in our system there is no place for people like Karna. But when is life fair?"
'This conversation is going nowhere,' thought Vidhura. 'Everyone toes the line eventually.' Even Bhishma, whom he respected, was conservative within. He did not dare challenge the Brahmin Guru openly and risk a riot. Perhaps there was practical wisdom in avoiding open confrontation but it still hurt.
"What should I do about Shakuni?"
"Watch him. Nobody is above suspicion, including you and me. The mind is a dangerous thing and can change at any time. Keep a close watch on Shakuni, and on Kripa and Karna. Learn what mischief that imperious Brahmin is up to. One day, I am going to lock him and his friend Carvaka up as mad men. Irritating the Priests by teaching a Suta boy the Gayatri mantra! If he wants to do that, why need he do it in full view of the Priests? I will now have to expend a great deal of time talking to Kunti, who will keep appearing with her sycophants every other day, to complain about Kripa."
Vidhura bowed and turned to leave, when Bhishma's voice stopped him. "Amba... ah, I remember her name now... Amba... the poor girl was sacrificed to Parashurama's beliefs and my vow. She took refuge in Panchala and died there in misery. It was so sad. I wonder how her son is doing."
Vidhura remained silent. He found it hard to suppress an ironic smile that Bhishma had finally remembered the Kashi Princess's name. He had heard the tale many times before and had learnt to stand by quietly, with a blank face, while Bhishma closed his eyes, lost in his own world. Vidhura bowed and took his leave. He was feeling hungry and walked towards his chamber where the cooks would have sent his food separately. He remembered he had forgotten to warn Bhishma about another threat looming ahead. His spies had informed him that the son of the spurned Amba was growing up fast and developing into a formidable warrior. Amba had eventually committed suicide after struggling with depression for many years. But she had filled her son's mind with hatred against Bhishma. Amba had taken refuge in the palace of King Dhrupada of Panchala and given birth to her son there. In the truce, when great men like Parashurama and Bhishma traded concessions, having sacrificed thousands of lives, the woman who had been the ostensible cause of the war, was conveniently forgotten. Parashurama got what he wanted and Bhishma avoided breaking his vow of celibacy by not marrying the Princess who was later found to have been made pregnant by her lover. She spent a miserable decade at Panchala, cursing Bhishma and her fate. When she finally ended her life by jumping over the balustrade of the staircase and falling to the cold marble lobby where fountains rose in rainbow arcs, her son decided to extract revenge for her life and death.
It was not anoth
er enemy being added to Bhishma's long list of foes, which worried the Prime Minister. It was the fact that the son who had been adopted by King Dhrupada of Panchala and been bought up as a Prince, was no son at all. He was a eunuch named Shikandi, and he had vowed to be the death of Bhishma one day. There could be no greater insult to the illustrious Commander of the Kuru armies than to be challenged by a eunuch. Vidhura did not know how to break the news to the great warrior.
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7 THE LESSON
SUYODHANA WAS WATCHING DRONA, fear and anger battling for supremacy within. He hated these classes and wanted to be out in the forest, roaming about and watching the birds and butterflies. Every day of the past four years had been torture. His enduring memory was of sitting glassy-eyed, feeling like an idiot, while Drona heaped abuse upon him. Initially, Suyodhana had asked his teacher about various things. Kripa, who had instructed the Princes before Drona, had always been ready to answer any question with a smile. But everything changed when Drona came.
AJAYA I -- Roll of the Dice Page 9