AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2)

by Anand Neelakantan

  “They claim they are the sons of Gods,” suggested Sushasana.

  “Their pride in their skill with arms?” Aswathama asked.

  Shakuni kept pulling at his salt and pepper beard. Finally, when there were no more ideas forthcoming, he said, “Suyodhana, their greatest strength is the support they enjoy from the orthodox. Attack anything that is considered holy by the priests, and we can force Yudhishtra to come out and fight.”

  “Are you going to tell us or not?” Sushasana asked impatiently. He was tired of his uncle talking in riddles.

  “Patience is a virtue you should practise more, nephew. The Virata King has thousands of cows. Steal them and you will have all the priests screaming for war. To them, a cow’s life is more precious than that of a man. The Pandavas would have to fight to protect the cows.” Shakuni sat back and waited for their reaction.

  “Tchaw! The Pandavas did not even fight for their wife; do you think they will fight for a few cows?” Suyodhana said dismissively.

  “Nephew, to such people, a wife’s honour can be pawned but a cow’s life cannot be compromised. The easiest way to conquer Bharatavarsha is to march a few cows before the invading army.”

  “That is not an honourable way,” Karna said coldly.

  “Fine then, go ahead and declare war on Virata. The Pandavas would sneak away like rats while you fought a useless war with a vassal state. Remember, you have just two weeks to blow their cover. Fail and they will come back to claim their share of the kingdom. Do you really want that?” Shakuni studied Suyodhana’s face.

  “Let them come. I am waiting to fight Arjuna,” Karna replied.

  “A war would be devastating. The rains have failed and the granaries are empty. Already half the country’s assets have been pawned to Yuyutsu. I do not know how we will ever get that merchant off our backs. But we cannot have him joining the Pandavas with his enormous wealth and private army. No, my uncle is right. In this way, we avoid a disastrous war. Let us try to lure the Pandavas out of hiding,” Suyodhana said thoughtfully, ignoring Karna and Aswathama’s protests.

  While Suyodhana and his friends debated the details, Shakuni did some mental arithmetic. Perfect! If he played the game with finesse, he could make both parties think they were right. That would be some war, where both parties fought for dharma – a dharmayudha – a holy and righteous war which any prophet would approve. What was it that Suyodhana had said about Yuyutsu? That could be something to explore. Also, the Southern Confederate had to be dragged in somehow and the drought and famine conditions exploited. Things were certainly getting interesting.

  ***

  “There he is!” Suyodhana exclaimed, unable to conceal his delight. He had brought a small force with him to Virata and in the dead of the night, they had overpowered the guards at the royal barns and driven out all the cows. By morning, Suyodhana’s spies had spread the rumour that his army was going to feast on beef. That was sure to provoke the conservatives who valued cows over men. If the Pandavas were hiding in Virata, Yudhishtra would be forced to fight to save the cows if he wanted to retain the support of the Priests. They could murder the entire population of Khandivaprastha and still be called righteous, but they would be damned if they let a single cow die! The idea was not to fight a full-fledged battle but to smoke out the Pandavas if they were hiding in the kingdom. Shakuni’s idea was perfect in its simplicity. Suyodhana made a mental note to thank his uncle for avoiding a major war that would have ruined Bharatavarsha.

  The man, dressed as a woman, who was leading the Virata army could be none other than Arjuna. Suyodhana looked back at his commanders and shouted, “We have found them! Another thirteen years of exile for the Pandavas.”

  Suyodhana was surprised to see that neither Bhishma nor Drona shared his joy. Which side were they on? He had avoided a major conflict by finding Pandavas in the nick of time, just twelve days before their period of exile ended.

  “From this distance we cannot be sure whether it is Arjuna or not. It appears that their commander is a woman. We have to categorically prove it is the Pandavas,” Bhishma said, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun. Behind the Kaurava army, the stolen cows mooed piteously.

  “Oh, I shall prove it,” Karna said, twanging his bowstring.

  “Karna, watch out!” Aswathama screamed as an arrow broke Karna’s bow in two.

  “It is Arjuna! No one can shoot like that,” Guru Drona said with utter certainty.

  Suyodhana was relieved. Drona himself had acknowledged it was Arjuna. He had achieved his goal. He turned to Shakuni to thank him for the wonderful plan. To his surprise, he found Shakuni had left his position and was near Karna. What was he saying to him? All of a sudden, Suyodhana saw Karna charging towards Arjuna recklessly.

  “Karna, hold on! You will be trapped.” Suyodhana heard Aswathama yell desperately.

  Suyodhana’s heart skipped a beat. What was Karna trying to do? Commit suicide? “Karna, come back! There is no need to fight. We have found Arjuna.” Suyodhana shouted just as he was hit in the arm by another well-aimed arrow.

  “Retreat!” Suyodhana heard Bhishma voice as the conch shell sounded, ordering a retreat. Bhishma had been made Supreme Commander and on the battlefield. His conch shell was the final call.

  The Hastinapura forces turned back just as the Virata army, led by Arjuna, charged.

  “Pitamaha, Karna will get trapped. He does not have the support of our cavalry and elephant corps,” Suyodhana shouted to his Supreme Commander, desperately trying to keep his horse from turning tail.

  Arrows rained around Suyodhana as his army fled in a disorganised retreat, pushing him back with them like a tidal wave.

  “Retreat!” Bhishma blew the conch again and the retreat became a stampede.

  Horses galloped past Suyodhana, raising a dust storm. Arjuna’s army advanced on them like a flash flood. Why were his commanders, Drona and Bhishma, not trying to rescue Karna? He had done a reckless thing and it was inexcusable to break discipline, but he could not leave Karna to his fate. A single man could not stand against such an army, even if he was Karna, the formidable warrior.

  He saw Aswathama galloping towards Karna, holding off Arjuna’s advance single-handedly. But how long could he last? Drona shouted at Aswathama to come back, but the Guru’s son fought his way to Karna’s aid.

  “You can forget about your friends, Suyodhana. Retreat safely if you want to stay alive to fight again,” Shakuni advised his nephew before galloping away, without waiting for an answer.

  “Fool! What are you gaping at Suyodhana for? Retreat!”

  Suyodhana heard Bhishma’s voice near him. What was the Pitamaha still doing here? “I cannot leave them to die,” Suyodhana said, not looking at Bhishma.

  “I took charge of this army on condition that there would be no unnecessary bloodshed. We have found Arjuna; we have won. I am not responsible if a Suta’s bowstring was broken by his foe. We cannot fight because of the frustrated and fragile ego of a Suta.”

  Suyodhana did not reply. What Karna had done was inexcusable from the point of view of any Commander, yet he could not leave his friend to die. He heard Drona’s panicked voice behind him and turned.

  “Sir, I seek permission to assist my son.” Drona stood impatiently, waiting for his Commander’s permission.

  “Denied,” Bhishma said, looking straight ahead.

  “Sir, my son is in grave danger. Give me a few soldiers to bring him back safely,” Drona pleaded “Denied. You are ordered to retreat with your division,” Bhishma said and his chariot shot forward. Around them Hastinapura’s imperial army was rushing back to safety.

  “That Suta will get my son killed,” Drona said, his head hung in despair.

  Suyodhana was surprised at the depth of Drona’s emotion. Why then did father and son argue so much if they loved each other so deeply? “Guru, come with me. I am going to save them,” Suyodhana said.

  Guru Drona’s nostrils flared. “You think war is a joke? The Command
er has given the order to retreat. There should be no question about not following it. How dare you go against his order?”

  “Sir, it is to save your son,” Suyodhana said, surprised at the Guru’s vehemence.

  “An order is an order in battle. It does not matter whether your son or brother is in danger.” Drona’s chariot carried away the ramrod straight figure of the Guru.

  Suyodhana hesitated a moment and then rushed to Karna’s aid. He could hear Bhishma shouting at him to turn back, but he could not have cared less. His friend was in danger and nothing else mattered. Seeing Suyodhana dashing towards Karna, Bhishma and Drona turned their chariots and followed him into the fight with Arjuna.

  ***

  “I failed you. You should have left me to die,” Karna’s voice cracked as he turned away from Suyodhana, sitting near his bed. From a corner of the room, Aswathama stood staring at them both, a stony expression on his face.

  “I did not save you. It was Bhishma and Drona,” Suyodhana said. How could he tell Karna that Arjuna had mercifully desisted from killing him when Bhishma had appealed to his nephew?

  In fact, Arjuna had spared them all. He had used the sammohana missile to stun rather than kill. Perhaps the presence of Bhishma and Drona had restrained him.

  It was the worst day in Suyodhana’s life. It had been a complete rout at Arjuna’s hands. True, they had taken only a small force and planned to find the Pandavas, not fight them, but had it not been for Karna’s reckless charge, they would have made an orderly retreat under Bhishma’s command, without loss of lives on either side. There had been no need for Karna to act so rashly. They had already blown the Pandavas’ cover and the results of the Virata skirmish did not matter. What had Shakuni said to Karna to make him behave so foolishly, so unlike his calm self?

  Vrishali stifled a sob and Karna’s face darkened. “Prince, we are thankful to you for what you did, we are indebted to you for your kindness.” Vrishali stopped when she saw Karna’s stern expression.

  “Leave us!” Karna’s voice was soft but it felt like a whiplash.

  The blood drained from Vrishali’s face but she looked at Suyodhana, her hands folded in supplication. “I don’t want to see him dead,” she said, her eyes filled with tears.

  “I prefer death to this humiliating defeat to Arjuna. I was reckless and paid the price. I have failed you, Suyodhana. I am of no value to you. I am a parasite.” Karna turned to face the wall.

  “But what made you do something so rash, Karna?” Aswathama asked. Karna did not answer.

  “What did Shakuni say to you?” Suyodhana asked.

  “It was my fault, my ego. I cannot blame anyone. He only said that even in women’s dress, Arjuna looked every bit a Kshatriya.”

  Suyodhana and Aswathama exchanged glances. Had Shakuni resumed his devious games of manipulation or was it just an innocent remark that had provoked the sensitive Karna? How could they blame Shakuni? Thus far, his planning had been faultless – whether it was the game of dice or the invasion of Virata.

  “Your body armour saved you from certain death, Karna, as also the efforts of Bhishma and Drona. It does not matter. We have won. The Pandavas will have to repeat 13 years of exile. Virata was the last battle with them,” Suyodhana said, smiling at his friend.

  Aswathama clicked his tongue. Virata, the last battle with the Pandavas? He was not so sure.

  ***

  Shakuni spent the whole day roaming in the jungle to find Dhaumya and his cronies. He had seen them rushing to Virata after the battle and had patiently waited for them to return. He finally found the forlorn group of Brahmins at the edge of the Virata forest. Guru Dhaumya was sitting in the middle of the group with his head buried in his hands. His disciples stood with their gaze fixed on their feet.

  Shakuni had wandered long enough to look sufficiently distressed. He removed his headgear and ruffled his hair and beard. He tore his angavastra, threw one of his shoes away, and taking his dagger from his waistband, cut himself in a few places. He had to look like he was running from the battlefield. Then he slumped limply over his horse’s back and nudged it towards the group.

  *****

  42 DATES OF DESTINY

  “A WARRIOR IS COMING TOWARDS US!” Shakuni heard the excited shout from one of Dhaumya’s disciples. He closed his eyes. The horse carried him to the group, where he collapsed to the ground. Dozens of Dhaumya’s disciples crowded over him. In a faint voice, Shakuni cried for water.

  Water hit his face and he woke artistically, as if from a stupor. His gaze scanned every face and stopped at Dhaumya. “Guru Dhaumya, please...do not kill me.”

  “Shakuni, you Mlecha... what are you doing here?” Dhaumya cried as his disciples moved away in shock. They had thought the warrior they had given water to was a true Kshatriya. But this was a Mlecha, and his touch would pollute them.

  “Everything is lost, Guru,” Shakuni cried in abject misery. “Arjuna has destroyed everything. He has defeated my poor nephew and killed Karna. We have lost everything. Have mercy on me when Yudhishtra rules this land. I will go to my own country. Do not punish me.”

  Dhaumya looked at his disciples in surprise. Was the Mlecha making fun of them? “Stop drivelling, you barbarian. Arjuna did not kill anyone. He spared the lives of all those evil men because he respects Drona and Bhishma,” Dhaumya spat in disgust. “It is we who should be crying. The Pandavas have lost the game. They have been found before their time in exile is up.”

  “So another thirteen years of wilderness for my nephew’s enemies?” Shakuni asked slowly, eyeing Dhaumya from the corner of his eye.

  “Stop rejoicing, evil Mlecha. We will find a way,” Dhaumya said, his voice harsh with loathing.

  “What choice do you have, Guru? You follow the solar calendar. In Gandhara, we follow the lunar calendar.” Shakuni coughed to add effect. He looked at the Priest humbly, watching to see whether he had taken the hint.

  Dhaumya’s face lightened. “What are you saying, you Mlecha?”

  “Had you people followed the lunar calendar, the days of exile would have ended long ago. But alas...” Shakuni shook his head, trying to get up from the floor.

  Dhaumya turned to whisper to his disciples. Shakuni could feel their growing excitement. The Guru had taken the bait. Dhaumya and his cronies hurried away without even casting a glance at him. Shakuni hoped they were going to meet the Pandavas, or better still, Krishna. He sighed with relief. He had given the Pandavas a small leaf to cover the shame of their blatant demand for the throne, despite having lost the bet. Suyodhana would be livid. Shakuni could not repress a smile. The Indians would now fight over calendars. Shakuni felt he was closer to his goal now than at any other time in his life. Dharmayudha, a bloody holy war would destroy everything. The priests would justify it, the Kurus would think it was their duty to shoot down their blood relatives, fathers would kill sons, uncles their nephews – the whole country would be damned. ‘Gandhara, I will not disappoint you again. Krishna, you think you are an avatar, but you are just a cowri on my board.’

  ***

  Yudhishtra had a faraway look in his eyes. He felt deeply relieved that there would be no war now, even though it meant another thirteen years in exile. But their failure to remain incognito in the last fortnight of their long exile had been a devastating blow. They had come so close to being free. Everyone blamed him. ‘What choice did I have?’ he wanted to ask Draupadi, but feared what he would hear in reply. They were sitting in the woods near the Virata palace. All his brothers looked gloomy and irritated. He had failed them again.

  “Don’t worry about the extended exile. You have suffered enough. Go and ask for your share of the kingdom, Yudhishtra,” he heard Krishna say.

  Share? What share? Yudhishtra wished Krishna would go away and leave him alone. He heard Draupadi’s derisive laughter. What right had he to Suyodhana’s empire? He was the bastard son of an ambitious mother. Was that a claim? Had he been in Suyodhana’s position, would he have cared to sha
re power with a bastard cousin? Perhaps. After the long years in the forest, Yudhishtra had lost interest in fighting for revenge. Life had been calm and peaceful. He was tired of power games. Then why had he ordered Arjuna to save the cows of Virata when he heard of Suyodhana’s adventure? He was all too aware of the terms of their exile, yet he had exposed them all. Yet how could he have remained a mute spectator when holy cows were being hurt? Had power changed Suyodhana so much that the boy who cried over a slain parrot did not hesitate to slaughter cows? Yudhishtra realised now that Suyodhana had never intended to kill the cows; it had been a trap to lure them out of hiding and he had fallen into it.

  “No, I cannot do it,” he said to Krishna. The Yadava shook his head and walked away.

  Dhaumya was waiting near the tree where Krishna had tied his horse. He and his disciples immediately surrounded the Yadava, clamouring for his attention.

  “He refuses to fight, saying it is adharma to break the conditions of exile. I do not know how to convince him otherwise,” Krishna told the Brahmins as he untied his horse.

  “There is a way,” Dhaumya said, a smug smile on his round face.

  Krishna turned around, one hand on the bridle. He saw the eager anticipation on the faces of Dhaumya’s disciples as their Guru whispered his plan. Krishna’s eyebrows flew up and a dazzling smile spread over his face.

  “Guru, it is brilliant. I did not know you were such a strategist. It is inspired. Genius!” Krishna exclaimed in genuine admiration.

  “Anything for the victory of dharma, My Lord,” Dhaumya said, bowing his head.

  “I think I can convince Yudhishtra with this argument.” Krishna quickly walked back to the clearing where the Pandavas still sat despondently.

  Dhaumya and his disciples followed. When they had disappeared among the trees, Shakuni emerged from the shadowy woodland. He clicked his tongue to turn his horse. It was time for the next move. It was time to tell Suyodhana about Ekalavya’s murder. Shakuni’s horse galloped through the parched forest towards Hastinapura.