Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles)

by Krishna Udayasankar

  I’m here because it’s essential to the security of my people, to the future of Dwaraka – even Aryavarta.

  Or was it? He ignored that doubt, along with the other question that nagged him: Wouldn’t I be here even if this weren’t Vidharbha?

  Govinda had been compelled to act when he had seen Rukmavati’s message, smuggled out of Vidharbha in the hands of a travelling monk. It had been simple and direct: ‘Come, save me from marrying that ogre Shisupala, or I shall die.’

  Rukmavati’s description of Shisupala, while excessive, had also been dramatically effective. Indeed, it had brought a smile to Govinda’s face, though admittedly Shisupala had his strengths as he did his faults. The man was old-fashioned in many ways, notably in the belief that some men were meant to rule, while other men – and all women – were meant to serve. When it came to his preferences on how women might best serve him, though, Shisupala’s views were as innovative as they were vile. Having now seen the young, innocent Rukmavati, Govinda could not bear the thought of her in Shisupala’s bed of horrors. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on the scene before him. If he had any plans of getting past Shisupala, Rukmi and their armies, not to mention Syoddhan and the battalions of men sent by Jarasandha as guard of honour, he had to stay focussed.

  Her prayers over, Rukmavati was about to exit the temple. She glanced at the assembled crowd of onlookers as she gracefully came down the steps. For an instant, her gaze rested on Govinda before moving on. Then, oblivious to the furious shouts from her brother and the others of her escort, she walked away from her waiting carriage. There was no turning back now. What the girl had just done could not be ignored. Govinda swung on to Balahak in one fluid move, ready for what was to come.

  Rukmavati beamed, radiant with delight, as she realized her daring had not been in vain. She clung tight to the strong arm that went around her waist, lifting her on to the silver-white steed. ‘Hold on,’ a voice whispered in her ear, and she complied.

  Before anyone could make sense of what had just happened, Govinda was weaving expertly through the crowd, making for the city’s main gates. The guards made to draw shut the huge metal-spiked doors, but he let loose a slew of arrows, jamming the hinges. Rukmi shouted out orders, but they were lost in the general confusion. It took the soldiers a while to respond to the commands, but they finally dropped their weapons and began heaving at the doors, sheer brute force straining the precisely wedged arrows. With a great, cracking sound, the arrows broke, allowing the hinges to swing the gates shut. But it was too late. Rukmavati was gone.

  They rode at breakneck speed, as fast the horse could go. Rukmavati clung on, oblivious to the world, looking up at the young face of her rescuer. Heading west and south, they reached a river. Just across the waters, on the opposite bank, the first hills marked the beginning of the Western Mountains that ran down into Dakshinavarta. The stallion slowed down and made for a small copse of trees, stopping on command.

  Rukmavati let go of the man, feeling suddenly self-conscious at all that had happened. He nimbly got off the horse and began leading the animal towards the water. She could wait no more. She dismounted, and threw her arms around him in a passionate embrace. He gently pushed her away, smiling to put her at ease.

  ‘Mahamatra, I consider it an honour that you called on me to help you,’ he chivalrously began, ‘though I’m sure you would have found a way out of that … erm … situation even without my assistance Now, if you’ll tell me where you wish to go, I’ll see you there without further delay.’

  Rukmavati hesitated, surprised. She then asked, ‘When you came to rescue me didn’t you know what it would mean? Won’t you take me with you to Dwaraka?’

  ‘I came because you asked for my help in getting away from Shisupala. I can’t offer you more. I can’t take my country, my people, to war over you.’

  She hung her head in despair. Despite her best efforts, her body heaved with silent sobs.

  ‘Princess,’ he began, but she snapped her head up to interrupt him.

  ‘Please allow me to speak before you say anything further,’ Rukmavati stated, wiping her tears away with determination. She took a step back and looked up at the tall man. ‘I know I put you in a difficult position when I sent you that message. Whatever I may feel for you, I can’t demand that you find affection in your heart for me,’ she gracefully admitted. ‘I’ve heard of how the women of Dwaraka throng around you, driven to madness by your looks and your manner. That may be a ridiculous exaggeration, an astounding fact that defies all reason, or maybe even the truth. But I don’t care. All I know is how I feel.’

  Rukmavati paused as she noticed the man’s sudden tautness. She gently rested her cheek against his unyielding chest and said, ‘If you choose not to take me with you, I’ll wait right here for my father and Shisupala to find me.’ She laughed as he looked at her sharply. ‘What,’ she taunted, ‘did you think that I’d want to kill myself? No, I won’t die. What use is that when it’ll still lead to war between our nations? If you leave me here, I shall marry Shisupala. And every time he touches me I’ll think of you and call out your name. No matter what he does to me, whether I feel ecstasy or pain, it’s your name that I will call out.’ With a charming look, she added, ‘There. I’ve finished.’

  A warm, pleasantly deep voice cut in and said, ‘Indeed you’ve finished, my dear. I doubt the vagrant will ever dare cross you for the rest of your lives together.’

  Rukmavati turned, startled, even as she heard the surprised whisper from the man next to her. ‘Father!’

  Govinda Shauri stepped into view, leading Balahak and a brown charger from Vidharbha behind him. ‘I had a feeling you’d try something like this, Pradymna,’ he said.

  ‘Father!’ the younger man repeated and ran forward to embrace him.

  Govinda wrapped one arm around his son’s shoulder, and extended his other arm out and nodded to Rukmavati. She made to kneel, but he pre-empted her.

  ‘You’re now a daughter of mine,’ he said, ‘so behave like one. Never be afraid to speak your mind or stand up for what you think is just and good. Honour and virtue lie in your heart, not in the judgement of others. Freedom and self-respect are yours to assume and keep, and not another’s to give. Not even,’ he said, with a pointed look at Pradymna, ‘your husband’s.’

  Rukmavati regarded Govinda doubtfully. She had not expected a man so young, or so cheerful. His frank words and honest face won her over. ‘Yes … Father?’ she said.

  ‘That’s right.’ Govinda nodded. ‘Come, we have to decide on our next step. Let’s get you on to a horse each, it’ll be faster that way …’ He moved away to check the saddle on the brown horse.

  Rukmavati turned to Pradymna and whispered, ‘Maybe I should have written to your father instead … he’s a wonderful man …’

  Pradymna looked deflated at the comment.

  ‘Wait for a while, and I’ll show you exactly how wonderful I think you are …’ she teased, restoring cheer on the young man’s face.

  Govinda pretended to be busy with the horses, and did not show that he had overheard what was clearly a private exchange. Life and time move on, Govinda Shauri, he told himself with a quiet smile. Your son is already his own man.

  2

  SYODDHAN RODE SILENTLY NEXT TO A PENSIVE SHISUPALA, AS AN array of soldiers from the armies of Vidharbha, Magadha and Kuru marched out of Kaundinyapura. A furious Rukmi led the pursuit of his daughter’s kidnappers. Each of the three men had about a division of hundred soldiers under their command. The rest of the armies were being mustered in sections and would follow in due course if they were needed. But, as Rukmi had pointed out, it was better to make the initial move quickly and with fewer men, since Govinda and his scoundrel son were on their own. His spies had assured them that there had been no notable army movement towards Vidharbha in the preceding weeks and Govinda Shauri himself had no escort.

  Govinda Shauri, Syoddhan said the name in his mind. Despite the incessant tirade of explet
ives that Rukmi kept spewing, his respect for Govinda remained, though a little grudgingly. What Govinda had done that morning had perhaps lacked something in nobility but not in courage. No matter what anyone said, he was not a coward. Pradymna and Rukmavati were probably unaware of the peril he had faced in order to give them the chance to escape.

  Even as the couple had raced out the gates, Govinda had single-handedly barred Rukmi and Shisupala’s way. Of course, he would have known that Rukmi could not order the archers to fire at will in the middle of a crowded city street. But there still had been the marksmen on the fort’s turrets to contend with and the barrage of soldiers who had closed in from all sides. Nevertheless, he had calmly released arrow after arrow at the advancing soldiers, holding them off for as long as he could. His chance at escape had come only when the city gates had been opened again to let the mustered forces give chase to Pradymna and Rukmavati. Govinda had then sped off at the first chance he got, with Rukmi’s men right on his tail.

  Syoddhan looked up as a rider came towards them at great speed. The man’s uniform showed him to be one of the elite soldiers of Rukmi’s guard who had gone after Govinda. Jumping off his horse, the soldier knelt low on the ground. Syoddhan immediately knew it could not be good news. Indeed, the soldier’s voice was strained as he said, ‘My lords, Govinda Shauri is nearly at the river. All three of them – our princess too – are making their way down the bank to the water’s edge.’

  ‘Paayu!’ Rukmi shouted, enraged. ‘How could you let him escape? Why didn’t you follow him, you good-for-nothing son of a bitch?’

  ‘The others are dead, my prince. I retreated to inform you where the three are heading.’

  ‘Dead?’ Rukmi was aghast. ‘Eight of you against one fleeing man and you tell me seven are dead? Are you men or squealing whores?’

  The soldier crouched down low and silently faced his master’s wrath as Rukmi continued to rant.

  ‘Perhaps we should let it go,’ Shisupala suddenly said. ‘After all, it isn’t Govinda who’ll marry your daughter, but Pradymna – and Pradymna’s heritage can’t be denied. Unlike Govinda, he was born honourable, an Arya beyond doubt …’

  Syoddhan was taken aback, though pleasantly so, by his friend’s declaration.

  Rukmi turned to them, just as astonished but far less pleased. ‘Except,’ he pointed out, ‘the boy is Govinda’s adopted son and legal heir. Whatever he may once have been, he is now the son of a bastard cowherd.’

  Shisupala argued. ‘Pradymna is true blood. If this had been the good old days, I would have arranged his wedding with your daughter myself! Look, I’ve bedded enough women – whores and otherwise – and in all probability fathered enough bastards to respect the blood of our forefathers when I see it. Pradymna is Arya. He’s one of us. Let it go.’

  Syoddhan flinched silently at Shisupala’s casual admission, but kept his thoughts to himself with the ease of a man who had many brothers, some of them far worse than the man before him. If he had Dussasana and a few more of that lot flogged as often as Kuru law deemed they deserved, Syoddhan knew he would either be less some siblings or, perhaps, his own head. ‘Princes will be princes,’ his father would often say as he ordered Syoddhan to set right what had gone wrong – from the farmers who had ended up in the prisons of Hastina for failing to bow fast enough when one of his brothers had ridden past to the dead virgin handmaidens unfortunate enough to have caught a lustful eye. At that moment it was difficult not to think of Shisupala as one of his errant younger brothers, perhaps even the best of the lot.

  With an indulgent shake of his head, Syoddhan said, ‘I’m with Shisupala on this one, Rukmi, though for less colourful reasons. I know you have a long list of complaints against Govinda, but I see no cause to blame Pradymna. If your daughter likes him, then perhaps you should indulge her wishes.’

  Rukmi was adamant. ‘No!’

  ‘My friend …’

  ‘No! I said no!’

  Syoddhan sighed and turned to the still-kneeling soldier. ‘How much further?’

  The soldier turned slightly to point to a grove of trees that lay a stone’s throw ahead. ‘Beyond that grove is an open plain. Beyond the plain lie the western hills that run southward for many leagues. The river is about midway across the plain. It’s in spate, and the currents are strong. Perhaps they think that by crossing it they may dissuade you, my lords.’

  ‘And beyond the mountains?’ Syoddhan questioned.

  ‘The coastlands south of Dwaraka and Anartta,’ the soldier replied. ‘If they get over the mountains, they might try to board a ship. But I doubt they’ll try to climb across – the horses would never make it. The only thing they can do is head north along the mountains till they are past the range and then cut through Anartta on horseback. It’s a long ride …’

  Shisupala opened his mouth as though to say something, but decided against it. He looked questioningly at Rukmi instead.

  ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Syoddhan voiced his doubt. ‘The hills block their way and they’ll be cornered. What does he plan to do? Do you think he’s waiting for reinforcements?’

  ‘Only armies wait for reinforcements,’ Rukmi was contemptuous. ‘Lone men wait, and pray, for help.’

  ‘Call it what we may, the more time we give him, the more likely he’ll get something or the other. We need to move quickly, if we decide to move.’

  ‘What do you mean, if?’ Rukmi snapped.

  ‘You still have a choice, Rukmi,’ Syoddhan pointed out. ‘Shisupala himself believes Pradymna to be a suitable match for your daughter, and I agree. You know that your father, King Bhismaka, will also concur. There’s talk that Pradymna may soon be made Commander of the Yadu armies even at this young age and then, in effect, he will rule Dwaraka. Your daughter will be his first and principal, if not only, wife. It is an attractive alliance, in all fairness.’

  ‘I. …’ Rukmi faltered, and then said with an air of finality. ‘It’s not about my daughter, anymore, Syoddhan. It’s about the impunity with which Govinda Shauri and his ilk act. Let me tell you that my daughter’s life is already forfeit for the shame she has brought upon our family.’ With a snarl he added, ‘The boy shall die first as my daughter watches, then she shall die while Govinda Shauri watches, painfully aware that he has brought this upon those children. Then, when he begs for death, I shall kill him … slowly!’

  Syoddhan pursed his lips and quietly considered the declaration.

  Shisupala appeared visibly shaken at Rukmi’s words. Clearing his throat, he declared in a formal manner, ‘Then you must forgive me, for I shall have no part of this.’

  Rukmi looked at him, astounded, as Shisupala continued. ‘I really liked your daughter,’ he said. ‘Enough, that I would have treated her with nothing but respect. I had hoped to share my life with her, give her every joy she could wish for, and like the fool I am I thought she could somehow make me a better man. I can’t just forget all that and take part in her killing.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Please! We’re allies, so I’ll leave you my forces. You also have the Emperor’s battalions with you, and I’m sure Syoddhan will gladly place his companies at your service. But please, let me … let us, leave. Syoddhan and I shall wait for you at Kaundinyapura.’

  ‘In that case, tell my executioners to have three stakes waiting for the heads I’ll bring back,’ Rukmi rasped.

  Before either of the other men could say anything further, he whipped his horse into a gallop and set off down the road. At a signal from Rukmi’s captain, the armies followed. Shisupala and Syoddhan watched them ride off. Then they turned around to head back the way they had come.

  3

  RUKMAVATI KEPT LOOKING BACK AS THEY FORDED THE STRONG currents of the river. She could have sworn she had heard her father calling out to her. Perhaps it was a dream, or even wishful thinking.

  Pradymna reached out to take her hand. ‘This is my fault,’ he confessed. ‘When you sent me that letter, I was sure my father wou
ld find out about it. I was glad because I didn’t have to tell him what I planned to do and he’d still know where I’d gone and why. But not once did I think he’d come to Vidharbha, and in this way. If I had known he would risk his own life …’ He faltered, as his eyes fell on the man riding in front of them.

  Govinda seemed to be admiring the scenic vista as though they were on a picnic. ‘Don’t believe a word, my dear,’ he suddenly cut in, turning in his saddle to look at them. ‘He’s just pretending to be a good son and all that.’

  ‘Oi!’ Pradymna exclaimed, looking very much his usual cheeky self. He then went on, ‘You’re right, Father. Being serious doesn’t suit me at all!’

  Their cheerful expressions changed quickly as the faint thunder of hooves came on the wind.

  ‘They’re on the plains,’ Govinda urgently noted. ‘Change horses with me,’ he instructed Rukmavati, quickly sliding off Balahak and into the water.

  The river was moderately deep, the water swirling almost level with their saddles. Govinda treaded water as he brought Balahak close to Rukmavati’s horse. She tried to slip off, but he restrained her and gestured to Pradymna, who helped her clamber directly onto Balahak. Wet, and cursing from the effort, Govinda finally pulled himself on to Rukmavati’s brown steed. ‘Keep heading in a straight line towards the hills,’ he told the young couple.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Pradymna cried out, trying to make himself heard above the roar of the river.

  ‘I’m going back. I want to speak to her father.’

  ‘Father! Don’t do this please, let’s just go …’ Pradymna insisted, even as Rukmavati dejectedly looked away.

  Govinda was firm. ‘She’s a child, Pradymna. Just because she loves you, you can’t expect her to turn her back on her family. Let me talk to Rukmi, and we can settle this quietly and quickly.’

  ‘With all due respect, Father, Shisupala’s out there. That man has spilt more blood over lust than he has over honour.’