AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2)

by Anand Neelakantan

  *****

  43 MURDER

  A GUARD ENTERED TO INFORM Suyodhana that Prince Krishna awaited him. The Crown Prince took leave of Karna and hurried towards the Sabha. Why had Krishna come all the way from Dwaraka to see him? Aswathama ran behind his friend, whispering a quick warning not to be taken in by the charming Yadava. They were about to enter the hall when Shakuni too, appeared. He had been waiting for them in the shadows.

  “Later, uncle. Krishna is in the Sabha.”

  “Suyodhana, I have some terrible news.” Shakuni’s grave voice made them stop and look at him. “Ekalavya is dead.”

  “What?” Suyodhana and Aswathama exclaimed in unison.

  “Killed! Murdered in cold blood.”

  “Who killed him?” Aswathama asked.

  Shakuni’s expression became sombre. “I don’t know who did it, but I heard about his murder from a group of tribals. They found his rotting body. Vidhura helped them bury it.”

  Suyodhana held on to a pillar for support. That was the reason the Nishada had not turned up for his daughter’s wedding. How was he going to break the news to Lakshmana?

  “How do you know he was killed?” Aswathama asked.

  “I can only recount what I heard. His skull was split open, as if he had been hit with a stone or something blunt. There are rumours floating around that Krishna murdered Ekalavya.”

  “You are just speculating,” Aswathama’s voice was stiff with disdain.

  “How can I know for certain since I was not there?” Shakuni retorted.

  “I would rather not meet Krishna today. This news of Ekalavya’s death...” Suyodhana said quietly.

  “I don’t think you have a choice, nephew. Krishna has come with a message from Yudhishtra,” Shakuni said.

  “I smell trouble,” Aswathama stated with finality.

  “Come, let us hear what Krishna has to say,” suggested Shakuni and turned towards the Sabha.

  Krishna stood in the centre of the great hall, a smile on his lips. Suyodhana’s grip on his sword tightened. There would be no compromise with his cousins and their extended exile, or with the man who had murdered Ekalavya.

  Krishna’s eyes glinted at the sight of Shakuni. Bhishma sat grim-faced. King Dhritarashtra waited, twisting the rudraksha beads he habitually wore round his wrist. What did the Yadava have to say?

  Before Krishna could speak, Suyodhana said in a voice from which all emotion had fled, “Ekalavya is dead.” The Sabha froze in shock.

  “How did he die?” Dhritarashtra asked, stunned by the news, his fingers frozen on the beads he had been turning.

  It was clear from his impassive face that it was not news to Bhishma. Drona looked up, overcome by a sudden sense of guilt and loss. The fearless boy who had chopped off his thumb as his gurudakshina, flashed before his eyes. His heart acknowledged in silence that there had never been an archer to equal Ekalavya.

  Suyodhana watched Krishna, his eyes never leaving that handsome face, his eyes quenched of their usual burning fire. The Yadava stood alone in the centre of the Sabha, looking from Shakuni to Suyodhana, weighing his options.

  *****

  44 THE MESSENGER

  “I KILLED THE NISHADA,” said Krishna, each word falling into the stillness of the Sabha with the force of thunder.

  Suyodhana drew his sword and rushed towards Krishna in speechless rage, but Aswathama restrained him, with both arms around his friend’s trembling frame.

  “Suyodhana, if I had not killed the Nishada, your daughter would have remained unmarried. I killed him to save my son,” Krishna said, drawing an almost imperceptible nod from Bhishma.

  Suyodhana did not miss the gesture and his rage exploded into angry words. “I made a great mistake in permitting my daughter to marry your degenerate son, Krishna. It was not Ekalavya who deserved to die, but your son. How dare you come here and declare your guilt before us all?”

  “To kill evil is my dharma,” Krishna said softly.

  “You kill whoever you please and then claim your victim is evil. Is that dharma?” Suyodhana’s voice shook with all the emotion he had buried in his heart since he had watched his beloved daughter being carried home in Karna’s arms, battered and deflowered.

  “Suyodhana,” Bhishma stood up. “Let us hear why Krishna has taken the trouble to visit us. He has come with a request from Yudhishtra, as I surmise,” he said in the calm voice of reason.

  “There is nothing to discuss, Pitamaha. The Pandavas must extend their exile for another thirteen years. You yourself fixed the terms. I do not wish to talk to this manipulative man.”

  Aswathama put a hand on Suyodhana’s shoulder, urging him to sit down.

  “I regret the Crown Prince prefers to place his own emotions before the good of his country,” said Krishna calmly.

  “You killed my friend...” Suyodhana gazed at Krishna with loathing.

  Bhishma intervened again. “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss the Nishada’s death. We are here for something important and are duty-bound to hear the respected messenger.”

  “Pitamaha, Ekalavya was not just any Nishada...”

  “Do not drag me into your petty squabbles, Suyodhana. I am here because King Dhritarashtra requested my presence. Now let us hear what Krishna has to say,” Bhishma said with utter finality.

  “Your Highness, with your gracious permission,” Krishna said, bowing to Dhritarashtra, “Prince Yudhishtra has sent me to stake claim to half the empire.” There was pindrop silence in the Sabha.

  Suyodhana sprang up like a man possessed. “That is pre-posterous!” he shouted, shoving away Aswathama’s restraining hand.

  “Suyodhana, it would become you to display some of the dignity attached to your exalted station. The Sabha is here to listen and to respond,” Bhishma said in a voice that allowed no argument. He turned to Krishna. “As per the terms of exile, the Pandavas are required to repeat their twelve-year stay in the forest and one year incognito. It is perhaps unfortunate they were discovered just a few days short of their term.”

  “Revered Lord Bhishma,” Krishna said, his charming smile once again lighting up his face, “they were never found during their exile.”

  “That is absurd!” protested Suyodhana. “We were all there at Virata. We saw them with our own eyes.”

  “The Pandavas were never found during their period of exile. They came out to fight Suyodhana after it had ended. In fact, Arjuna defeated the Hastinapura forces, which means the entire empire now belongs to Yudhishtra by right.”

  “Enough!” Suyodhana was on his feet, trembling with rage.

  “I request you to hear me out. While I understand Suyodhana’s sentiments, the truth cannot remain hidden,” Krishna stated calmly.

  “Let him speak,” Dhritarashtra commanded.

  Krishna smiled at Suyodhana and then turned towards Bhishma. “Sir, Suyodhana is right, but the Pandavas are more right.”

  “Krishna, pray, do not speak in riddles,” Bhishma implored, trying to conceal his irritation.

  “Your Excellency, allow me to explain. In Bharatavarsha, two calendars are used – the lunar and the solar. When Suyodhana says the Pandavas were found before their period of exile was over, he is referring to the solar calendar. When Yudhishtra says the Pandavas had completed their thirteen years, he is referring to the lunar calendar. Both are right, but the Pandavas are more right.”

  “Absolute nonsense! Pitamaha, Krishna is up to his usual tricks.” Suyodhana’s voice shook with fury.

  “Revered Lord Bhishma, does the Kuru dynasty trace its lineage from the Moon or the Sun?” Krishna asked humbly.

  Angry murmurs rose in the Sabha. The Kurus traced their lineage from the Moon, hence they were known as Chandravamshis.

  “The Kurus have followed the solar calendar for many generations. The lunar calendar is used only for ekadashi fasts and on other auspicious occasions,” Bhishma said.

  “Since the Kuru dynasty uses the lunar calendar for all ausp
icious occasions, it is the more important of the two. The Pandavas are thus more in the right. Let us begin negotiations from that point,” Krishna said, as if he was proposing the most logical thing in the world.

  “There is nothing to negotiate. We will not be taken in by devious tricks, Krishna.” Suyodhana pointed a damning finger at the smiling Yadava.

  “I request to be allowed to state the terms,” Krishna said, ignoring Suyodhana completely.

  Before Suyodhana could protest, Dhritarashtra said, “You have come as a messenger and custom dictates you be allowed to speak without fear. Suyodhana, be seated and listen to what Krishna has to say.”

  Suyodhana sat down without taking his gaze off Krishna’s face. From the corner of his eye he noticed Shakuni. Something was wrong. Had a smile flashed across that face? He turned and looked at his uncle. No, perhaps he had been mistaken; Shakuni’s face showed only concern.

  “Yudhishtra is prepared to give half the kingdom to Suyodhana,” Krishna began. The entire Sabha rose in agitation.

  “Respected Krishna,” Bhishma’s deep voice rose over the din, “please bear in mind that the claim to the throne has yet to be settled. We already have a King sitting on the throne of Hastinapura.”

  “My apologies, revered Lord Bhishma, it was but a slip of the tongue. I beg your pardon, Your Highness. May I carry a message to Yudhishtra that the King has graciously agreed to divide the empire into two, between his own son and his brother’s son?”

  “Enough of this drivel!” Suyodhana said in a voice that was as cold as it was clear. “My father is the King and I am his firstborn son. There is no question of dividing the kingdom or sharing it with a gambler.”

  “Yudhishtra is prepared to make a concession: when he says half the kingdom, he does not include the expanded empire Karna won for Hastinapura. The Pandavas will settle for Indraprastha and the city they themselves built.” Krishna’s face was impassive.

  “Indraprastha! The city built on the bones of slain Nagas? The city Maya and his people were thrown out of, according to the tenets of varna and jati? The city its ruler gambled away, and where I stood naked and abused? How does Yudhishtra even dare to ask to be its ruler? If he is as righteous as he claims, let him follow the conditions of the dice game as they were laid down, and go into exile for another thirteen years.”

  “Prince Suyodhana, that is unfair. What you suggest is adharma.”

  “You Yadava should be the last person to preach dharma. I know what your dharma is and I know what you mean by adharma. If you are an avatar of Vishnu as you claim, then it is you who dwells in my heart and I follow my heart. That is my dharma. Krishna, when have you ever been fair to anyone? Were you fair to Jarasandha, to Sisupala, to Hiranyadhanus, to the thousands who died in Khandivaprastha? Were you fair to Ekalavya?” Suyodhana asked, pointing a shaking finger at Krishna.

  The Yadava turned to Bhishma. “I am merely trying to avoid a war, but Suyodhana is intractable. The voice of reason cannot reach deaf ears. The Pandavas will settle for a vassal kingdom and the same rank Karna holds as King of Anga.”

  “So they can impose their rules? So that Dhaumya and others like him become unquestionable?” Suyodhana thundered.

  “Five villages will also do,” Krishna added in a soft voice.

  “So they can kindle a revolution from there?”

  “You are making peace impossible, Suyodhana. Have a care what you do in such unthinking anger and haste,” said Krishna, his voice losing some of its calm. “This is the final offer: Yudhishtra will settle for a house.”

  “Krishna, we gave them a house years ago. In fact, we gave them a palace. All those present in this Sabha will remember what the sons of dharma and their pious mother did with it. We were left to deal with the widows of the soldiers they trapped and killed in the palace fire. It might be a minor detail that they also baited a Nishada woman and her five children with food and then burnt them alive. These are perhaps small footnotes in the glorious stories of dharma,” Suyodhana said, his voice dying into silence. Many heads nodded in agreement.

  “Suyodhana, power has gone to your head and you cannot discern between right and wrong,” Krishna said succinctly.

  “Stop! Not another word from you, you cunning Yadava. Remember, you are standing in the Hastinapura Sabha. You accuse me of being power hungry? What about you? You are using the Pandavas and their gullibility to finish off your enemies. Tell me why I should share my birthright with the bastard sons of my aunts?”

  “Suyodhana!” Bhishma stood up, trembling with anger. “Mind what you say. You were not raised in the gutter. Krishna is our guest...”

  “What have I said that is untrue, Pitamaha? What right have the Pandavas to claim the throne?”

  “Suyodhana, it would have served you better if you had studied the history of the Kuru race more closely instead of absenting yourself from your classes,” Krishna said with a mocking smile. “The revered sage, Veda Vyasa, would no doubt have had the answers to your questions. He would perhaps have asked you who the father of respected King Dhritarashtra, revered Pandu and mahatma Vidhura was. It may have helped you to understand Yudhishtra’s claim.”

  There was an edgy hush in the Sabha.

  “Don’t try to corner me with the custom of niyoga. Sage Veda Vyasa is our grandfather and we are proud of it. The niyoga was done with the blessings of the elders and not surreptitiously in the jungle, as in the case of my aunts, Kunti and Madri. Can Yudhishtra point to any man and say, ‘Here is my father’? It is claimed that Yudhishtra is the son of Yama, the God of Death; Bhima, the son of Vayu, the God of the Winds; Arjuna, the son of Indra, King of the Gods; and Nakula and Sahadeva, the sons of the Gods of Dawn and Dusk. Do you think we are naive enough to believe such bizarre stories? Do you?”

  “You have one last opportunity to avoid a bloody war and the total annihilation of your race, Duryodhana,” Krishna said, his lips smiling, but his eyes burning with anger.

  “Are you threatening me, you cowherd?”

  “You do not know who I am.”

  “I know who you are, and I am not one of those naive women of Vrindavana to fall prey to your charms. You have an agenda and you use words like dharma to cloak your evil intent. I am not afraid of war. If that is to be, so be it. Hear this, Yadava, go and tell my aunt’s sons that I will not give them even a tiny portion of the earth which legitimately belongs to me, not even the space to jab a needle.”

  The Sabha erupted into an uproar. War was now certain.

  “Arrest the Yadava,” Suyodhana said calmly. The din in the Sabha became deafening.

  Krishna smiled at the Crown Prince. “Duryodhana, it is time for you to see who I am.” There was a blaze of light, as though something had exploded. Krishna said, “King Dhritarashtra, your son will ruin this kingdom and take everyone to their doom. He is leading your people to annihilation. He does not know whom he is speaking to, nor what he is saying. He is walking the path of adharma. The war will finish your line. Be warned and beware. He is challenging the will of God. Know that I am Death and I am Life. I am Time and I am Timelessness. I am the Beginning and the End. I am Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Behold my glory.”

  Suyodhana watched impassively as many people in the Sabha fell to their knees and bowed to Krishna. What was it they saw in him that he did not? It was just Krishna up to his usual tricks. Enough of this charade, Suyodhana decided.

  “Enough of your street magic, Yadava! You are nothing but a charlatan. Whom are you threatening? If there is a war, so be it. If I die, I will go to a warrior’s heaven, like a true Kshatriya. But I will not hand over the kingdom to a gambler.”

  Suyodhana smiled when he saw that Krishna was at a loss for words. Perhaps the Yadava was wondering why his famed Vishwaroopa act had failed to impress. What had he to fear when he had men like Karna and Aswathama beside him? Why claim to be a God and then commit unspeakable acts? It was better to be just a man and die for one’s beliefs and convictions with the head held high
.

  “Duryodhana, you will pay dearly for this. Not just you, but this entire Kuru Sabha and everyone in this country. The voices that remained silent when a woman’s honour was dragged through mud in this very chamber, remain silent even now. It is for the best that you did not agree to the terms, since future generations would have said that I compromised with evil. Men of the Sabha, hear my words...this man has brought war upon you and nothing, I repeat, nothing is going to save you. Remember I warned you of what awaits you,” Krishna thundered at the dumbstruck Sabha.

  “Arrest this charlatan!” Suyodhana barked at the guards.

  Jerked from their stupefaction, the guards rushed towards Krishna. He dodged them with ridiculous ease, knocking them down. Smiling at Suyodhana, Krishna walked out of the Hastinapura Sabha as if retiring after a friendly chat with friends.

  The Sabha emptied as courtiers dispersed in animated groups to discuss what had transpired. In the hubbub that ensued, Yuyutsu moved towards the stunned Crown Prince, who had yet to come to terms with the realisation that war was inevitable.

  “Brother, I have some important things to discuss with you,” Yuyutsu said. Suyodhana looked up at the merchant’s smiling face and knew his troubles were just beginning.

  “What of the deal I had enquired about?” Yuyutsu asked.

  “This is neither the time nor the place,” Suyodhana said, irritated.

  “It is always a good time to talk business. My dues are long pending. This country owes me money, a lot of money, Suyodhana.”

  “The treasury is almost empty, but you are collecting taxes and tolls. What more do you want?”

  Yuyutsu chuckled, “There is nothing much to collect these days, little brother. Your country is poor.”

  “There is drought. Once the rains come, everything will be alright.”