AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2)

by Anand Neelakantan

  “Hiding in the rear, coward?” Aswathama taunted, hoping to provoke Shakuni.

  “Ah, my favourite Brahmin boy!” Shakuni turned around smiling.

  “Sahadeva is looking for you, Mlecha. Remember, the youngest Pandava has vowed to kill you. It’s just as well you are hiding here at the rear to save your thick skin.”

  “Hmm, but what is it that you are doing here instead of supporting the Suta? Today is the day he is taking on Arjuna. Don’t you want to watch Karna die?” Shakuni chuckled.

  “You scoundrel! Traitor! You are not even fit to speak his name. What has the Gandharan army done for the Kauravas other than to stuff their stomachs?”

  “Grand words, Brahmin, but see what is happening to your Suta friend. Krishna has laid a trap and Karna has fallen right into it. Can you see where they are going?” Shakuni asked, shielding his eyes with his hand and gazing into the distance.

  Aswathama followed Shakuni’s gaze and saw two chariots racing away. One flew the flag of Hanuman and the other chasing it had the emblem of Surya. Was Karna chasing Arjuna or was Krishna leading Karna into the swamps of the Ganga? Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Aswathama jumped into Shakuni’s chariot.

  “Hey, what do you think you are doing?” Shakuni cried in surprise.

  Aswathama lunged and grabbed the whip from Shakuni’s charioteer. In one swift movement he lashed at Shakuni. The whip caught the Gandharan’s nose and split it open. Caught unawares, Shakuni staggered and fell to the chariot floor. Aswathama pushed Shakuni’s charioteer out and whipped the horses. The chariot flew forward, leaving the fallen charioteer’s cries far behind.

  Shakuni rose and drew his sword. Aswathama whirled the chariot round on one wheel, catching Shakuni off balance and cracked his whip at the Gandharan again. Sudden searing pain shot through Aswathama’s arms. An arrow had hit him. Another zipped past his throat. Who was shooting at him?

  Shakuni leapt at Aswathama again but the Brahmin cracked his whip and tripped him. Another arrow hit Aswathama’s arm, making him scowl in pain. Then he saw who was shooting at him – Uluka. Shakuni’s son was riding parallel to his chariot. ‘Good,’ thought Aswathama, if his plan worked, he could take out both father and son together. His plan was crazy, reckless and brave. He was tempted to fight them in a straight duel but the last thing he wanted was for the remnants of the Kaurava army to begin fighting each other. No, it had to appear as though the Pandavas had killed the Mlecha.

  Aswathama jumped back into the chariot from the charioteer’s seat and kicked Shakuni. The chariot raced on towards the Pandava side. Shakuni swung his sword and wounded Aswathama on the thigh. The Brahmin fell and rolled over. With a maniacal grin, Shakuni thrust again. But Aswathama had feigned his fall and was waiting for his moment. He rolled away from the fast-descending sword and was on his feet in a flash, while Shakuni struggled to free his sword which had plunged two feet into the wooden floor of the chariot.

  Aswathama coiled the whip around Shakuni’s throat and whispered in his ear, “Game over, Mlecha!”

  “Shoot, Uluka, shoot!” Shakuni yelled to his son, galloping beside them. Uluka hesitated. What if he hit and killed his father? “Shoot!” Shakuni cried desperately, but the boy merely stared back in an agony of indecision.

  They were only a few feet away from the Pandava lines and Aswathama could see the surprise and shock in the eyes of the Pandava soldiers. A shower of arrows welcomed them as both chariots broke into the Pandava formation. Soldiers tried to stop them, thinking it to be a surprise attack on their Commander, Sahadeva. The chariots ran over men, crashed into others, but did not halt. Aswathama did not know how many arrows hit him. He held on to the throat of the Mlecha, ignoring his own pain and trying not to think of impending death. The chariot floor was wet with blood – his and the Mlecha’s.

  Finally, Uluka fell with an arrow to his throat. Aswathama hissed into Shakuni’s ear, “There goes the Gandharan heir.”

  Shakuni uttered a cry of agony as his son died before his eyes. Aswathama felt the Gandharan going limp in his hands. “You are next, Mlecha,” he hissed.

  Their chariot crashed into Sahadeva’s, throwing the youngest Pandava off balance. Aswathama shoved Shakuni out of the chariot and the Gandharan fell face down. But he scrambled up, holding on to Sahadeva’s chariot for support. Sahadeva aimed an arrow at Aswathama but his bow broke into two before he could shoot.

  “Kid, take your time with the Mlecha. I have a friend to save from your brother,” Aswathama said, slinging his bow back over his shoulder and taking the whip in his hand.

  Stunned by such an extraordinary feat of archery, Sahadeva looked at the Brahmin warrior covered with blood. Before he could react, Aswathama’s chariot had vanished behind a cloud of dust.

  Shakuni eyed Sahadeva, surrounded by scores of Pandava soldiers. He knew he had only a few moments to live. He should have killed that bloody Brahmin in Gandhara when he had had the chance. Nevertheless, Shakuni had achieved what he had lived for – India was dying before his eyes. He had won. He took out his dice and smashed them on Sahadeva’s chariot wheels, laughing.

  Someone hit him across the jaw. Fists punched him in the stomach. A boot kicked him in the groin and a sword swiped across his cheek. He heard Sahadeva say, “Not so quick, my friends, not such an easy death for the Mlecha.”

  “Too late, you bloody Indians...much too late...” Shakuni said before blackness overwhelmed him completely.

  *****

  71 WHEEL OF DHARMA

  A LIGHT DRIZZLE WAS FALLING when the battle started in earnest. Karna had spent a sleepless night tossing on his hard bed. Bhima’s howls of grief, which the breeze carried to the Kaurava camp, had made him restless and angry. It came as a surprise to him that Bhima cared so much for his Rakshasa son. It somehow made his own act all the more cruel, as if he had wounded an animal. Karna had decided on the vajra formation for a quick thrust into the Pandava ranks. He did not intend to drag out the war.

  Where had Aswathama disappeared to? He was supposed to be here supporting him. The Brahmin had been behaving strangely of late. Karna wished he could tell his friend why he had spared the other Pandavas, but... “Take me to Arjuna,” he said calmly to his charioteer.

  Shalya grunted in reply and the chariot began weaving its way through the Pandava army at great speed. For a change, Shalya was silent. Perhaps Bhima’s agonizing cries had affected him too.

  “Hurry, Shalya. To Arjuna...“

  “Suta, do you think this is a pleasure trip and I am your guide? Take me to Arjuna; take me to Arjuna, as if he were the lover you are dying to meet.” Shalya laughed at his own joke and veered off the path, cutting diagonally across from where they had intended to go.

  “Stop blabbering and...” Before Karna could complete his sentence, an arrow whizzed past him. Shalya had swerved from its path with matchless dexterity.

  “Watch out, Suta. Without me, you are a dead Suta,” laughed Shalya.

  “Stop talking nonsense and take me to Arjuna!”

  “Brace yourself, Suta, we are going to catch up with my old friend, Krishna. Let us see who is the better charioteer.” Shalya whipped his horses, laughing in glee.

  At breakneck speed, Karna’s chariot pierced the Pandava ranks. Karna began shooting down everyone in his path, spreading panic. Krishna moved away from him, weaving a complex path to keep the chariot away from his arrows. Both sides had suffered huge losses but with adequate supplies arranged by the Confederate forces, the Pandavas were better able to drag out the war. For the Kauravas, supplies had run out and if Karna was unable to kill Arjuna this day, the writing was clear on the wall.

  “Faster, faster...” Karna urged.

  “You wish to die of a broken neck?” asked Shalya, his face alight with the thrill of the chase. He whipped the horses savagely and the chariot veered to one side, almost toppling over. Shalya slid to the other side to regain his balance, grinning at Karna. “You almost had your wish. Want to see any more stunt
s?”

  It was no use talking to this maniac, thought Karna. He should have taken a less skilled but sane charioteer, but no one was as good as this reckless genius. Only he could match Krishna’s skill with the reins. The chariot was weaving its way through the Pandava elephant corps. Shalya leaned over and whipped one of the elephants.

  “What are you doing?” Karna yelled as the elephants began to stampede.

  “Just watch the fun,” Shalya laughed, weaving through the wall of pounding elephant legs around them. As if by magic, a path opened up while the elephants ran in all directions, destroying everything in their way. Shalya killed more Pandava soldiers by his dexterous handling of the chariot than Karna had done in the entire day.

  “There they are!” Shalya pointed to the fast-vanishing rear of a chariot. The Hanuman flag fluttered in the wind.

  The skies opened all of a sudden and rain started falling in a heavy downpour. Some mounted archers cut in from their right and tried to slow down Karna. He shot them down with ease but Arjuna had gained on him considerably. Where was the coward running to?

  Shalya halted the chariot abruptly. “Let us go back.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “It is you who are crazy, you ignorant Suta! Krishna is up to his usual tricks. The ground is slippery here and the wheels may sink. Let us catch them when the ground is dry.”

  “Don’t order me around, Shalya. You are my charioteer and I the Commander-in-Chief of the Kauravas. Take me to Arjuna!”

  “Your wish is my command, most revered, most respected Chief.” Shalya spat on the ground and muttered, “Bloody Suta!” The chariot raced on, chasing the Hanuman flag.

  The river was flowing swiftly, swelled by the downpour. Krishna drove his chariot perilously close to the surging waters. Shalya managed to catch up with him and for some time the horses galloped on neck to neck. Krishna was calm and composed, as if he was riding through the streets of Hastinapura instead of on slippery ground. Shalya hooted, taunting Krishna and abusing Arjuna and Karna in equal measure. The two warriors began shooting at each other. With the wind screaming in his ears and the rain lashing his face, Karna managed to wound Arjuna twice. Arjuna scarred Karna’s forehead. It was difficult to keep their bows steady in the wind and rain. The chariots jerked and rolled in the slushy mud. The roar of the river frightened the neighing horses.

  Inch by inch, Krishna started gaining on Shalya. With a jerk, Arjuna’s chariot zoomed past. Shalya was slowing down again. What was wrong with the man? Karna was livid. Was he fighting for him or the Pandavas?

  “He will turn now and face you. Brace for Arjuna’s arrow,” Shalya said, his voice quiet and sombre for once.

  As predicted, Krishna executed a sharp turn, with inches to spare from the river, as mud spattered into the water. Shalya veered left and Karna thought they would fall. A flaming arrow whistled past, a hair’s breadth away from the chariot. Karna shot back but missed Arjuna. Krishna had handled his chariot with remarkable skill. He and Shalya were fighting their own battle.

  Krishna’s chariot tilted at a crazy angle. Arjuna’s figure loomed large and Karna could see the unflinching concentration in his face. Another arrow came hissing at him but Karna ducked it. He instantly shot back at Arjuna but missed. Krishna’s prowess in steering the chariot was remarkable.

  “Use your ageneya now, Suta. Aim at his chest or waist. You will miss if you go for the throat,” Shalya advised.

  “Are you now my archery Guru?” Karna snapped.

  Shalya hooted with laughter and wished Karna death. Cursing, Karna began loading the ageneya in the yantra, winding it up. The rain had become fierce and the wind pushed them back. The chariots circled each other at speed, churning mud. Karna feared his chariot would fall apart. His maverick charioteer was driving the horses crazy with his shrieks, whip and stunts. Shalya ducked from arrows or hung out of his seat with one hand. He prodded the horses with kicks, jumping out to run alongside and then climbing back to do more terrifying stunts. His unceasing jeers and chatter began to affect Karna’s concentration.

  “I will turn the chariot to face him. Use your ageneya.” Shalya veered to the right at the most unexpected moment, catching Krishna by surprise. Shalya circled Krishna’s chariot and cut across unexpectedly. Karna could see the frothing river as Shalya drove straight towards it. “Turn and shoot at his chest, or you will miss,” Shalya screamed against the wind, standing up in his seat to crack his whip.

  Karna let loose the ageneya. The fiery astra shot towards Arjuna’s throat. Karna felt elated. There was no way Arjuna could escape.

  “Fool! Fool! Fool!” Shalya screamed as he pulled at the reins to turn the chariot.

  When Karna looked back, he was horrified. Krishna had driven his chariot into a ditch to evade the astra’s path. His horses were neighing in fear, their front legs thrashing in the air. Arjuna’s chariot wheels were stuck deep in the mud. Shalya had been right. He would not have missed had he aimed for Arjuna’s chest. He heard the muted explosion of the ageneya in the distance.

  “We have them trapped. Use your nagastra fast,” Shalya urged.

  “No. It is against dharma to shoot when their chariot is stuck.”

  “What? What did you blabber, Suta? You kill him now or you will die at Arjuna’s hands.”

  “It would be dishonourable.”

  “Is this the time to turn noble? I refuse to risk my life for an idiot.” Shalya jumped out of the chariot and began walking away.

  “Hey! Where are you going? You cannot leave me like this at such a crucial moment!”

  Shalya walked on without a word, not bothering to turn to look at Karna. Lightning cracked open the sky and struck a tree. The river had started climbing up its banks. It was as if the rain God was trying to make up for his years of absence in a single day.

  Karna took the reins. He knew he could not match Krishna’s charioting skills and Arjuna’s archery skills by himself. His unlucky stars were haunting him again. He had a choice. To shoot Arjuna before Krishna could extract the chariot from the mud would have been child’s play. He toyed with the idea. Then the image of his other great foe, Uthayan, waiting for him to extract his stuck chariot wheels on the banks of the Narmada flashed into his mind. No, he could not do it. No honourable warrior could. He waited.

  Krishna managed to extricate the chariot. It was getting dark. The roar of the Ganga had become deafening. Karna could see the Kaurava army rushing to rescue him. Krishna had trapped him by moving away from the battlefield and like a fool, he had given chase. Arjuna’s face became clearer as his chariot approached at great speed. Karna saw hesitation in those eyes. Karna had no charioteer and according to the ethics of war, Krishna had to get down to make things equal. It seemed that Arjuna was arguing with Krishna.

  Karna pulled at the reins with one hand, holding his arrow in place with his teeth. The chariot pitched and jerked in the mud. When he felt he was in position, he shot at Arjuna. Karna saw Krishna’s face light up with a smile. The arrow had struck Arjuna’s shoulder. That ended Arjuna’s dilemma. Karna had indicated his willingness to fight without a charioteer. He would not ask for any favours from Arjuna, not after a lifetime of insults and jeers, and never from the man who had taken the woman he had loved. No, this Suta was more Kshatriya than anyone else.

  Karna took aim but as he did so, his chariot stopped – the wheels had become stuck in the mud. There was no other way but to get down and extricate them, just as Krishna had done a while before. Swallowing, Karna called out, “Halt there, Arjuna! My wheel is stuck. I ask you to wait till I get my chariot out.”

  Arjuna’s raised bow came down and Karna jumped into the slush. Putting his shoulder to the wheel, he started pushing.

  “What are you waiting for? Shoot the Suta!” Krishna said, pointing.

  “No, Krishna. He is unarmed. It would not be fair.”

  “Would not be fair? Does the man deserve fairness? Have you forgotten how he insulted Draupadi in the Sabha? Ha
ve you forgotten how he killed Abhimanyu? Shoot him now!”

  “Krishna...I cannot. It would be dishonourable.”

  “This is your last chance. Look to your right. The Kaurava army has arrived. Kill him and we stand a chance of escaping in the confusion that will follow.”

  Arjuna raised his bow and aimed at Karna’s throat. Karna looked up. Surely Arjuna was just posturing? No warrior possessed of even a modicum of honour would shoot a man like this. Karna put his entire weight against the chariot, raising it little by little.

  Arjuna’s arrow pierced Karna’s throat, pinning him to the chariot wheel. Karna knew it was over. Shalya had been right, he should have taken the opportunity when it had come. But then he would have been like Arjuna, another puppet, another Kaunteya. He was Karna, son of a poor Suta, a proud Radheya, and he would die that way. He saw Suyodhana jump down from his chariot, lose his balance, fall, get up again and rush towards him. The entire Kaurava army was running towards their fallen Commander. In the confusion, Karna saw Krishna turn his chariot and vanish from the scene. Arjuna never looked back.

  Karna could feel Suyodhana’s arms around him but darkness was falling fast. The rain on his unarmoured skin felt like needles of fire. He could faintly hear his friend talking to him. Karna wanted to thank him for everything he had done, for standing up for him when no one else would, for the many things, big and small, that only a friend would understand.

  Karna felt Aswathama’s hand grip his own. He heard Suyodhana accusing him of not being there to support Karna when it had mattered. “I thought Karna would be safe. Look at me, Suyodhana, I am bleeding from a hundred cuts. I….I am sorry I was late,” the Brahmin cried, guilt struggling with denial at what he saw.

  Had his friend not called him a traitor? ‘But I am not a traitor, Aswathama, and neither are you, my friend,’ thought Karna wearily. ‘Suyodhana, do not blame Aswathama. He had his own reasons for not being there. Look at his body – every inch covered with wounds. Aswathama do not go away! I forgive you, my friend, and you must forgive Suyodhana for his harsh words. Do not leave me now. Stay with me for a few moments more,’ Karna wanted to cry out to Aswathama who was dragging himself away, but he could not speak; he was drowning in his own blood.