AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2)

by Anand Neelakantan

  *****

  36 RETRIBUTION

  A MAN SNEAKED OUT, LOOKED AROUND furtively, and then darted towards the shelter of the trees. Perhaps a deserter, thought Ekalavya. The man could lead him to Samba. He walked forward noiselessly and crouched behind a bush, as silent as a big cat stalking its prey. A bat whizzed past his head screeching but it did not disturb the man of the forest. Noiselessly, Ekalavya pounced on the man, pinning him to the ground. The man uttered a profanity. Ekalavya hit him across the face and waited. When the coughing and whining stopped, the man muttered something and Ekalavya bent to hear.

  “You...untouchable...you do not know who you are playing with...”

  This was no ordinary soldier. “Who are you?” Ekalavya hissed.

  “You Nishada, you don’t know who I am? I am the son of Krishna... You will pay for this.”

  Samba! Ekalavya punched him with all his strength, flattening his nose. He waited till Samba’s screams faded to a whimper and then punched him again, knocking out a few teeth. “Father...father...help me...” Samba whined. Ekalavya waited.

  Some soldiers were animatedly pointing towards the woods. Ekalavya knew he did not have much time but he was determined the scoundrel would not have the good fortune to die a quick death. First he would drag this stinking monster before the Hastinapura Sabha and show them what a Nishada could do while they, the Kshatriyas, still sat debating the rights and the wrongs. Then he would kill Samba, inch by inch.

  “Help!” Samba cried as another man emerged from the Yadava camp.

  Ekalavya’s heart skipped a beat. Krishna! Another tall man came out and the two men began to argue. Samba tried to cry out but Ekalavya clamped his mouth shut. He tore a piece from his shawl and shoved it into Samba’s mouth, gagging him. Then he kicked Samba in the ribs until he lost consciousness. Grabbing Samba’s long hair, Ekalavya began dragging him towards his horse.

  “Hey, you!” Krishna roared and began running towards the woods.

  There was no time to lose. Ekalavya hoisted Samba upon his shoulder and staggered on. Samba was heavier than he had thought. He whistled and his horse broke through the undergrowth, almost knocking down Krishna. The Yadava was quick to roll away, getting back on his feet in one swift movement. Ekalavya dumped Samba’s unconscious form on his horse and mounted. Krishna’s Sudharshana whistled past his throat, splintering a tree behind him. Ekalavya kicked his horse and it shot off like an arrow. Krishna dived to catch the fleeing horse but could not get his hands to the reins.

  Ekalavya galloped on towards Hastinapura with his quarry. It was just a matter of time before the fearsome Narayana Sena would give him chase. He kept his dagger pressed to the unconscious Samba’s throat. When the Narayana Sena caught up with him, he wanted to be sure to take Samba with him to the abode of Yama.

  After a while, Ekalavya wondered why no arrows were whizzing past him and why he did not hear the rumble of chasing chariots. His horse galloped but his heart raced even faster. When he finally looked back, emptiness stretched to the horizon. Where was Krishna’s army? Somehow, that was even more terrifying.

  *****

  It was frustrating trying to reason with Kritavarma. Had it not been for the adamant General, he would have caught the Nishada and saved his son.

  “Ekalavya has kidnapped my son and you stand here arguing with me? Do you not know what Duryodhana will do when he lays hands on Samba?”

  “Krishna, your son is lucky to face Suyodhana and not me. He deserves a painful death,” Kritavarma replied coldly.

  The General was right. For a brief moment Krishna thought it would be better to let the Nishada kill his son. Loud wailing shook him from his reverie as a hysterical Jambavati came running towards him. ‘Oh Lord Brahma! Save me from this woman,’ Krishna prayed.

  “Prabhu, you are his father, the saviour of all...”

  Krishna sighed wearily. “Jambavati, he is a criminal.”

  “Would you say the same if it was Satyabhama’s or Rukmini’s son? Samba is a Vanara, so nobody cares if he dies, not even his father...”

  “Enough!” Krishna snapped and turned to the General. “I know, Kritavarma, I know. He is a blot on our race, but he is still my son. I will go to Dur...Suyodhana and beg his forgiveness. I will ensure Samba marries Suyodhana’s daughter to save her honour.”

  “You’d better talk to His Highness, Balarama. I will not spill the blood of my boys for such an unworthy cause.”

  Without a word Krishna walked towards his brother’s camp, to have the most difficult conversation of his life.

  *****

  37 A DAUGHTER’S HONOUR

  WHAT MORE COULD HE DO to set these Indians at each other’s throats? Shakuni had hoped that an all-out war would break out between Hastinapura and Dwaraka. He had assiduously fanned the flames of revenge in Suyodhana’s mind and the imperial army was getting ready to march towards Dwaraka. He had arranged for a few spies to incite trouble in the South. Even now, they were spreading rumours that Suyodhana had turned against Krishna. His mission was drawing to a glorious conclusion when that cursed Nishada had dragged in Krishna’s loutish son. That had ruined everything.

  ‘Indians sit and argue without end but do nothing, not even when their daughters are raped. Weaklings!’ thought Shakuni in disgust. Bhishma had called back the army as soon as Ekalavya had arrived with Samba. Suyodhana wanted to behead Krishna’s son but the timely arrival of Balarama’s messenger seeking an audience had saved him. After a long debate, they had decided to throw Samba into a dungeon and Suyodhana agreed to meet Balarama.

  Shakuni watched in exasperation as Balarama and Krishna begged the Crown Prince’s forgiveness. Bhanumati tried to persuade her husband to make Samba marry their daughter. The chances of war faded. Ekalavya rushed out of the Sabha in protest but he was ignored. A Nishada had little voice after all. Following protracted discussions, they decided that Samba should marry Lakshmana to save her honour. Shakuni almost threw the dice he held to the floor in frustration and anger. In his homeland, no rapist would have got away by agreeing to marry the girl he had violated. The men here would not fight even when their wives were disrobed in public or their daughters raped.

  Such shameless behaviour by spineless men! How was he to fulfill the oath he had taken to destroy India if her men refused to fight, even for honour? His hopes rose when Suyodhana said he would consider the marriage only if his daughter agreed. Lakshmana would never agree; he was certain of it.

  When they brought Lakshmana into the Sabha, her face was covered with a veil, as if she was the one at fault and had to be hidden from the world.

  Balarama clasped her hands saying, “Daughter, what we ask of you is perhaps more than any human should be asked to do, but can you find it in your heart to forgive my nephew?”

  Hot tears dropped from Lakshmana’s downcast lashes and traced their path over her once flawless face. She shook her head. There was a collective gasp of horror. That meant war. Shakuni would have liked to clap in approbation but kept his glee to himself.

  Balarama spoke again. “Daughter, I know my nephew is unworthy of you, or indeed of any woman. I ask this as a sacrifice from you, for all those women who would inevitably be widowed by another battle, the children who would be left fatherless. Daughter, consider what your decision will mean to so many innocent people.”

  Lakshmana’s mind seethed with anger. Was she now to be handed to that brute like a sacrificial lamb, even after all he had done? Was there no one who would take her side? Suddenly, she remembered what she had heard about Draupadi being dragged to the Sabha. These were the same men, were they not? She shook her head again.

  Krishna stepped forward. He stood before Lakshmana, his hands folded in supplication. “Princess, you have the power to prevent so many from deaths.”

  Lakshmana finally raised her head and stared at Krishna. How handsome she had once thought him to be. Unable to look into those beautiful, tear-drenched eyes, Krishna looked away. Youth, laughter and life
died in Lakshmana at that moment. ‘Better one dead than thousands,’ she thought. Without taking her eyes from Krishna’s face she said, “I agree.”

  Shakuni could have killed Krishna with his bare hands. Blasted avatar. He turned and walked out of the Sabha. So much work, so much risk, so much planning, all for nothing. Now the only hope lay in the Pandavas returning and claiming the throne. If only Durjaya had been a free man. He saw Ekalavya sitting in a corner of the palace garden, his head buried in his hands. Perhaps the Nishada could be of some help, thought Shakuni, and went over to him.

  “Nauseating. They are forcing the girl to marry that bastard.”

  “What?” Ekalavya gasped. His muscles had gone rigid.

  “Oh, they have compelled the poor girl to marry that scoundrel. You should have heard Krishna and Balarama. It was sickening. That poor child! Well, I hope the wedding feast will be sumptuous.”

  “Shut up, Mlecha!” Ekalavya pushed Shakuni away and began running towards the palace.

  “If you want to do something, I can help you, Nishada. I, too, am appalled by the whole affair,” Shakuni shouted after him.

  Ekalavya stopped. Shakuni hurried to his side. Looking at the far horizon, he whispered, “I know where the villain is being held.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ekalavya, every sense alert.

  “What if there was no Samba to marry Lakshmana?” suggested Shakuni smoothly.

  Ekalavya’s face reflected none of the mad churning in his brain. Every instinct warned him not to trust this man.

  “In my country, we call it ‘honour killing’. But here, people just talk. I can only sympathize with the girl.”

  “Where is he held?” Ekalavya asked, his voice dangerously calm.

  “There are many guards. Security is tight and...”

  “Where is he?”

  “Come with me,” Shakuni said as he hurried off.

  Ekalavya followed soundlessly. Shakuni showed him the entrance and then quickly disappeared, hoping no one had seen them together. He watched Ekalavya move silently towards the first guard. ‘This might just work,’ he thought, but he had to find Krishna. Shakuni rushed back to the palace.

  ***

  “This is an inspection. Where is your chief?” Ekalavya barked at the guard. The man ran off to fetch his superior.

  When the Chief came, he eyed Ekalavya suspiciously. He knew the dark man to be a minor King so he bowed, but his right hand remained on the hilt of his sword as he asked, “Sir, have you any token of your authority to make this inspection?”

  “I am Ekalavya, a close friend of the Crown Prince and King of his forest lands,” Ekalavya answered in an officious tone, hoping the man would not prove too difficult. He would rather not have to kill him.

  “My apologies, Sir. Please come to my room. Leave your weapons outside – your sword, bows, quiver, everything. It is regulation.”

  The Chief led Ekalavya in. As soon as they entered, Ekalavya bolted the door and hit the Chief on the head with his balled fist. The man collapsed silently onto the floor. Ekalavya waited for some time to be sure the Chief would not come around soon and then dragged him to his chair and arranged him to look like he was taking a nap. Then Ekalavya went out and closed the door, walking with a confident gait and nodding to the soldiers on duty, who bowed to him. The air was damp and musty. Large spiders lurked in the corners. Somewhere bats screeched. It grew darker as he walked on. A few torches threw more smoke than light into the dungeons. It was the most feared prison in Hastinapura and housed many of Durjaya’s men. Prisoners with long dirty beards screamed when Ekalavya passed, rattling their chains and the iron bars. The guards tried to silence them by hitting the bars with long sticks.

  Where was Samba? Ekalavya knew he could not ask without raising suspicion. He did not have much time. Shakuni was sure to be back. He had to find that monster and kill him before someone came to fetch the bridegroom. The word tasted like mud in his mouth – bridegroom indeed! ‘Princess, I will never let him touch you again,’ Ekalavya vowed as he descended further into the bowels of the earth.

  The air became damper and the ground uneven, littered with pebbles and rocks. It was the deepest chamber, where hardened criminals were held. Ekalavya felt vulnerable without his weapons but his rage was as sharp as any sword. He turned another corner and in the dim light of a guttering torch, he saw Samba talking to the prisoner in the opposite cell. Durjaya! Perhaps it was the day for two murders.

  In an authoritative voice he commanded the guards to move away. Samba fell silent, the blood draining from his face. In the smoky, flickering light Ekalavya walked towards Samba’s cell with the finality of death.

  *****

  38 DEATH IN THE DARK

  “WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW?” Gandhari asked her brother, her face turned away from the doorway where he stood.

  “Sister, I need only a moment. I need the King’s permission to free Samba. It looks awkward keeping the bridegroom in prison.”

  “Stay out of what does not concern you, Shakuni,” said Gandhari, an edge to her voice.

  “Shakuni, your sister has some fancy ideas about statecraft,” said Dhritarashtra, getting up from the chair he had been sitting in. “I am delighted we now have Krishna on our side. That was a brilliant move by Suyodhana. Go, free Krishna’s son. We cannot appear disrespectful. Ring the bell, Shakuni, and call for my seal.”

  “I have the order ready, brother.” He turned to a guard and ordered the royal seal to be brought in.

  Dhritarashtra asked Shakuni to read the document and then affixed his seal at the end, his face a blend of pleasure and pathos. Shakuni knew his brother-in-law was not what he appeared to be; he was unpredictable at best. Clutching the royal order, Shakuni hurried out. If things went as planned, he would trigger a war and Krishna would look like the fool who started it all.

  ***

  “I am honoured,” Krishna said to Shakuni in a flat voice, drumming his fingers on a table.

  “Here is the royal order freeing your son,” Shakuni responded, ignoring Krishna’s tone.

  “Oh, let him stay one more night in the dungeon. He deserves nothing better.”

  This was getting difficult. Shakuni fidgeted with the royal order. Precious time was being lost. “Sir, your son’s life is in grave danger. If something happens to him in prison...”

  Krishna laughed. “He is in the most secure prison in Bharatavarsha. You worry needlessly, my friend. If you will excuse me, I was getting ready to visit my Aunt Kunti.”

  “Sir, it would be better to get your son out of that prison before it is too late. The Nishada King who kidnapped your son is not happy with the alliance.”

  “Many people are not happy with the alliance. Can we afford to worry about the opinions of the whole world?” retorted Krishna with a smile.

  “Ekalavya is dangerous. He hates your son. Prison is no longer safe for Samba. This order frees him.”

  Shakuni knew he had touched a chord by the way Krishna’s posture changed. Without waiting, he turned and began walking away. Krishna’s footsteps followed him. Shakuni smiled, the Yadava had taken the bait.

  When they reached the prison, Shakuni presented the order to the Deputy Chief. “Where is the Chief?” Shakuni asked. The Deputy responded that the Chief was taking a nap.

  “This is Lord Krishna, the Yadava Prince,” Shakuni said, introducing his companion.

  Hearing the name, the Deputy immediately fell at Krishna’s feet saying, “Bless me, my Lord. We are blessed indeed to see the avatar of Lord Vishnu with our own eyes.”

  Shakuni rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “The Lord is in a hurry,” he prompted. “He has come to fetch his son who is in this prison due to some misunderstanding. Please take us to his cell.”

  “With pleasure, Prabhu.” The Deputy stood up.

  “You can stay here. Just tell us the way,” Krishna said.

  The Deputy’s face fell but he traced the way to Samba’s cell in the sand with his baton
. “Prabhu, forgive me, but no arms are allowed inside,” he stammered apologetically. With great reverence, he collected Krishna’s Sudharshana disc and Shakuni’s jewelled dagger. As Krishna and Shakuni entered the dungeon, the Deputy called out, “Sirs, the Nishada King is making an inspection of the facilities also.”

  Shakuni and Krishna looked at each other. “You have left him alone without worrying over his safety?” Krishna asked, trying to hide the rising tension in his voice.

  The Deputy looked embarrassed and said in a low voice, “Sir, no guard was willing to go with him as he is an untouchable.”

  “Fools... idiots...” Krishna hissed and ran into the dungeon.

  Shakuni struggled to keep pace. Prisoners’ screams filled the air as they moved through the underground prison. As they turned a dark corner, they could hear the rhythmic sound of a hard object hitting metal. A bloodcurdling cry rose above the din and Krishna ran towards it, stumbling over the rocky surface. Shakuni knew what the sound was and thanked his stars. They had made it just in time.

  The door to the last cell stood wide open. In the opposite cell, a savage-looking man with a waist-length beard was screaming murder. He rattled the bars and tried to twist open the heavy metal lock with his hands. Durjaya! A shiver passed through Shakuni’s frame. Thirteen years of incanceration in this dark dungeon had made Durjaya look devilish. When he saw Shakuni, he stopped yelling and the brief silence sent a chill down Shakuni’s spine.

  “Nishada!” Krishna screamed.

  Shakuni looked into the cell. Ekalavya was sitting on Samba’s chest, choking Krishna’s son to death. Krishna tried to prise him away. In the throes of death, Samba thrashed his legs wildly. Krishna reached for his Sudharshana and uttered a curse. They had left their weapons at the prison gate. With all the force he could muster, Krishna hit Ekalavya, but the Nishada did not even feel it. Samba’s life was ebbing away. However much he tried, Krishna could not prise Ekalavya’s hands that held Samba’s throat in a vice-like grip.