Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles)

by Krishna Udayasankar

  For an instant Panchali seemed lost in her thoughts. ‘The Emperor of Aryavarta … Hah! The power to create and destroy, to turn kin against kin and friend against friend, in the hands of one man …’ she softly muttered. She yawned and stretched, exhausted from her long day and their rather fast ride home from Hastina. And then she was asleep. She did not notice the peculiar expression that flickered across Dharma’s face, nor that he lay awake for a long time afterwards.

  The next morning, Dharma sent for Dwaipayana. The Vyasa arrived as soon as he could.

  In these times, it took just a few days to travel through the Kuru kingdom. When Kandava was burnt, Takshaka Naga and his people had migrated north to Kuru’s fields at the border of the kingdom. There they had used their skill in working rock and stone to build a passage that connected directly to the five rivers that patterned their way through the Sindhu and Gandhara kingdoms. Trade with the Danavas and other nations to the west had boomed beyond expectation and it had soon become necessary to extend a section of the Great Road from Hastina to Indr-prastha. Meanwhile work had begun on a wide, well-cobbled caravan trail from the northern pass, running right through Western Kuru. It met the Great Road at Indr-prastha, making it much easier for foreign travellers to enter central Aryavarta from the northern borders.

  Despite such glory Dharma had one regret. He could never forget that his triumph rested on the achievements of others.

  It had been Partha who burnt down Kandava, and Govinda who had returned with a treaty with the Naga king Takshaka, negotiated and sealed. Govinda had also helped build the newly appointed army of Western Kuru, sending his war-hardy captain Daruka to help train the forces. Even Panchali had played a part in the rising prosperity of the kingdom. She had suggested floating barges on the River Yamuna to transport heavy goods and livestock south and east, to the other nations of Aryavarta. This had prompted many a citizen of Aryavarta, even people from Eastern Kuru, to move and settle down in and around Indr-prastha to ply their trade there. A large number of migrants had followed to offer the many services that a booming population required, from entertainment to physical labour.

  Indeed, Dharma was now monarch of a bustling, prosperous nation, one he ruled from his ethereal capital, which many said was the most beautiful city in all of Aryavarta. Yet nothing here was of his making. Now he had an idea, a way to ensure that he could indelibly etch his own mark on history.

  He shared it with Dwaipayana the moment the two of them were alone.

  Dharma then sat back, waiting anxiously for the scholar’s reaction. He was relieved when Dwaipayana smiled.

  ‘I’d hoped that you’d see the duty that lies before you soon enough, Dharma,’ Dwaipayana began, ‘and so you have. It gladdens my heart to think that a worthy, truly noble man will reign over Aryavarta after all these years, and I wish with all my heart that it will be a long, peaceful reign that lasts not only my lifetime as the Vyasa but also my son Suka’s. But, there is more to becoming Emperor than just being crowned, my son. First, the kings of Aryavarta must accept you as their liege-lord. Second, the noble scholar–priests must sanctify your ritual sacrifice and willingly perform your coronation. Above all, the gods must accept your offering and consecrate you as Emperor. Perhaps the third is the easiest of all. In your heart, in the depths of your conscience, do you believe that you deserve to rule? For then the gods can’t deny you the opportunity and, for that matter, neither can we of the priesthood.’

  ‘Then it’s up to the kings of Aryavarta.’

  ‘Yes. You must get them to accept your dominion. You’ll have no problem with the Panchalas, thanks to your wife, and as for the Kurus, I assure you that the Grandsire Bhisma and I will be happy to advise your uncle to support you. Your cousin Syoddhan has many allies and they too can be made to accept you as Emperor. But there remains a fundamental problem. To solve it you’ll need some help. You’ll need Govinda Shauri.’

  Dharma regarded the Elder with open disappointment. ‘Govinda?’

  ‘Surely you know the old adage, that your greatest enemy’s enemy is your best friend …’

  ‘Jarasandha …’

  ‘Yes, Jarasandha. Dharma, make no mistake. Jarasandha is Emperor and as king of Western Kuru you owe him your allegiance. For you to dethrone him and then declare yourself Emperor would be … unwise. The legitimacy of your actions should never be compromised.’

  Dharma frowned. ‘But ought I not to first establish myself as a conqueror? What better way to do that than to …?’

  The Vyasa interrupted him with an impatient shake of his head. ‘Dharma, listen to me. Aryavarta doesn’t need civil war. Everyone knows that. Even Jarasandha. As I said, I can get many of the kings – your uncle Dhritarastra and your cousin Syoddhan included – to accept you as their Emperor, provided we don’t upset their reign, or their consciences. For both of these you need to let Govinda bring down the Emperor for you. Let it play out as a personal affair between the two men, with you doing nothing more than you would as a friend and cousin. I, too, won’t interfere, except perhaps to ensure discretion and smooth a few ruffled egos once the deed is done. Then, when Aryavarta lies bereft of leadership due to Govinda Shauri’s actions, you will step forward to bear this burden. Trust me, my son, on no account should you be the one to dethrone Jarasandha; at least, not directly.’

  ‘But what’s to stop Govinda from making a bid for the empire? If he kills Jarasandha …’

  ‘Emperor? That cowherd? Hah!’ the Vyasa sneered. ‘Don’t worry, Govinda knows better than to lose the legitimacy he’s gained over the years by risking the wrath of the Firstborn. Besides, he knows that if he wants to be Emperor it will take civil war. No one wants to avoid that more than he does. Get him to come here at once. He’ll be useful, you’ll see.’

  Dharma flinched inwardly at Dwaipayana’s casual dismissal of Govinda, but forced himself to ignore it. Taking a deep breath, he nodded his agreement. He felt uneasy, yet strangely relieved as he remembered what Panchali had said to him earlier about the way Govinda had slowly, almost surreptitiously, deflected Jarasandha from conflict and placed him on the defensive. On balance, though, Dharma had no doubt that Govinda was the right man for the task. This time he did not wait till the next morning to send a message.

  The messenger from Indr-prastha arrived at Dwaraka well past midnight and handed over his scroll to the captain on duty. Sealed as it was with Dharma’s insignia, the scroll found its way to Balabadra’s hands without delay. The burly man cursed at being woken up at the late hour; nevertheless, he opened the scroll. He perused it quickly and went to look for Govinda. He found his brother out of his bed, standing on one of the many terraces of their mansion, looking out pensively at the foamy night sea.

  Govinda’s curly hair was dishevelled and he wore his robe as a makeshift wrap around his bare hips. ‘Don’t ask,’ he said as Balabadra gave him a questioning look, wondering mischievously which woman had kept his brother up so late.

  ‘All right. I won’t.’ Balabadra held out the scroll. ‘Dharma’s invited you to Hastina. Any guesses?’

  ‘Only that we have some eventful and busy days ahead. It’s only a matter of time before the imperial conquest begins.’

  ‘Conquest? Govinda, do you realize what you’re saying? The first thing any would-be Emperor has to do is …’

  ‘Defeat Jarasandha, I know,’ Govinda replied. ‘That’s why Dharma wants me. Rather, that’s why Dwaipayana has advised him to call for me. And the amusing thing about it is that the Vyasa will help me get rid of Jarasandha. He will help me every step of the way.’

  ‘Are you sure? How do you …?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I’m pretty sure that Dwaipayana intends to see Dharma as Emperor of Aryavarta. What better way to rid himself of Jarasandha without really seeming a traitor than to enlist me, Jarasandha’s lifelong enemy? Who can fault Dharma for my deeds? Neither of us can really justify dethroning the Emperor of our own accord, but if we act together we just might succeed. As the
y say, all is fairly done that’s done for duty and the empire. It’s not a bad plan, if you ask me.’

  ‘And I’ll wager it is exactly as you’d expected?’

  ‘More or less …’ Govinda cheekily admitted.

  The two brothers exchanged glances and shared a robust laugh.

  ‘So,’ Balabadra said, ‘I see now where you’ve been leading us all this while. Here I’ve been wondering how to defend our people against the inevitable, especially since everything that happened at Vidharbha. I should have known that you’d go one step further and make plans to pounce straight at the enemy’s throat.’

  ‘You know we can never live peacefully as long Jarasandha remains Emperor. Sooner or later, Agraja, he will strike us. He will attack Dwaraka. Can we really afford to wait and watch?’

  ‘But why such a complex plan?’

  ‘Because it isn’t just about killing Jarasandha. It’s about doing it with honour. You and I can’t get away with it; we’d only be called selfish murderers. And it’s not us but Dwaraka that’ll be forced to pay the price,’ Govinda said. ‘Like it or not, Jarasandha is Emperor. We need a very good reason to go against the man so many kings consider their liege-lord. This way, complex though it is, we move against our enemy with Dwaipayana’s blessings. He’ll ensure that everyone’s conscience is mollified.’

  ‘Nevertheless, we’ll pay a price. We’ll end up bowing to one more would-be conqueror, and barter and trade our pride to hang on to what we’ve built on our own, with our sweat and blood,’ Balabadra testily observed.

  ‘So be it,’ Govinda said, casually crossing his arms across his chest. ‘Things have been heading to this pass since …’ He paused and then said, ‘There’s something you need to know, Agraja. I was the one who brought Ghora Angirasa out of hiding. It took me the better part of many years, but I found him at last and made him come back to Aryavarta.’

  ‘What?’ Balabadra was astounded. ‘But … why?’

  Govinda met his brother’s shocked gaze without flinching. ‘It was the only way to bring things to this pass. To finish what I had begun two decades ago. Ghora’s death was inevitable, and essential.’

  Balabadra said nothing for a while, and stood looking out at the dark sea around them. He had suspected Govinda of much and had been patient solely out of trust in his younger brother. But this – this kind of cold, methodical scheming – was beyond his wildest imagination. Before he could stop himself, he found the words spilling out, along with his brewing anger. ‘I was hardly a few years old, when our father brought you to the vraja, to Gokul village. My mother, Rohini, and I were already there.’ His voice took on a hint of surprise at his own words, for he could not remember ever having alluded to the fact that he and Govinda were, in fact, only half-brothers, sons of the same father.

  Trying to find solace in the memories he treasured, Balabadra quickly continued, ‘They used to call you Krishna because of your dark skin. It was I who gave you the name Govinda. Did you think it was just another name for a gwala boy? The name contained all that you meant to me. The cows that we used to tend are just metaphors for the senses with which every human chases the light of truth, the quest that defines us in every waking moment. You were a herdsman of those senses, my brother. You made me believe in the goodness of human beings, you made me dream of a better world, of something to live for, and that is why I named you Govinda. But now …’ He shook his head and a hard edge crept into his voice, ‘You’re playing with darkness, Govinda. With darkness and fire. It’s a dangerous game, one that may destroy us all.’

  Govinda shrugged, a gesture of grim acceptance.

  Balabadra could not help but yield as he felt the emotion slowly extend to cover him. With effort, he pushed all traces of anger and disappointment out of his mind and said, ‘So Dwaipayana will form a Kuru empire after all.’

  Govinda nodded. ‘Dwaipayana shall form an empire, yes … a peaceful empire. As to whose empire it’ll truly be …’

  He smiled, content at the thought.

  5

  THE TWO MEN WERE ALONE IN THE WELL-APPOINTED ROOM, IF a room it could be called. Heavy green creepers languorously wound their way up crystalline pillars, and tiles of marble and grass alternated in precise patterns on the floor. Huge windows, almost indistinct when open, led out onto a lawn that rolled on and on in unbroken verdure save for the carefully placed stone fountains and carved statues, each one distinct in design. The weather was pleasant and sunny, and the gentle sound of the wind in the trees and the occasional chirp of some bird or the other gave the scene an idyllic air.

  Govinda sat at ease, his body still and his expression tranquil, neither impressed by the surroundings nor indifferent to them. He had arrived well before dawn and gone directly from the stables to Dharma’s private palace. There he had bathed and dressed, but refused all food and drink till he had spoken to Dharma. He also refused to allow the attendants to wake his host or interrupt his routine, preferring instead to wait, as would a common audience seeker.

  When he was finally told of Govinda’s arrival, Dharma was pleasantly surprised at this formal display of friendship and loyalty. Govinda was notorious for his dislike of social ritual, as much as Dharma found them comforting. Such routines, Dharma believed, clearly established the hierarchy and order of things without causing discomfort or loss of face for those involved. It was the civilized, noble way of doing things.

  The wind suddenly fell, and all was quiet. Unbearably quiet.

  Dharma broke the silence. He said, ‘Tell me … What do you think of me, Govinda?’

  ‘What I think isn’t important,’ Govinda replied. ‘What’s important is why you choose to ask this question.’

  Dharma paused. He shifted in his seat to directly face Govinda and said, ‘When my uncle gave me Kandava, I almost refused. I had little desire to be king and was content to lead a simple, honourable life.’

  ‘And have you now changed your mind?’

  Dharma was taken aback a little by the incisive question. He carefully replied, ‘Many generations ago our ancestors whom we revere on par with the gods – Pururavas and Yayati – ruled over a huge dominion from this very place. This was the heart of Aryavarta, of a mighty empire, before it fell into ruin. Now that we’ve rebuilt this city, it would be a shame if it were not the capital of the empire once more. I … I long for a simple life, Govinda, but that doesn’t make me a simpleton. I’d be a fool if I ignored the various interests that are tied in with mine.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Govinda politely affirmed.

  ‘And for that reason I am forced to confront my own duty as a warrior, a duty to conquer and craft.’

  ‘Oh? But why should that bother you?’

  ‘Because much of what has transpired these past months has been providential, even serendipitous. I have no explanation for all that has happened except that it was divinely ordained. Nothing can stem the tide of destiny whether it leads to joy or sorrow. But the fact remains that I have been greatly blessed and it is my solemn duty to give thanks to the gods that have been kind to me by spreading their glory. I can’t ignore the purpose for which the gods have placed me in this prosperous and powerful situation. Their will must be done.’

  Govinda remained silent.

  Leaning forward eagerly, Dharma continued, ‘Yet, I remain confused. I don’t know if it is the right thing to do … Is glory all there is to life? Is there no value for piety? Please, tell me what you really think of me …’

  Govinda smiled and said, ‘I’ve heard it said that you earn by your very word and deed the name that was given to you at birth, Dharma. Isn’t it impossible for you to think an unrighteous thought or to speak an untruth? That you’ve contemplated this implies that it must be virtuous.’

  Dharma mulled over the well-chosen words. Almost warily he began, ‘There remains, of course, the matter of Emperor Jarasandha. Most of the kings around the region either fear him or owe their allegiance to him. Rukmi of Vidharbha, Shisupala of Chedi, Saubha
the king of Salwa, the Nishada chief Ekalavya, Vasusena and, of course, our cousin Syoddhan of Hastina …’ he counted off despondently. ‘They are all formidable. And then we have the vassals within Magadha. Above all, there is the Imperial Army.’

  ‘Before we even get to that, by law and right, Jarasandha is Emperor. For another man to declare himself such, he must overthrow Jarasandha. That, and the fact that once Magadha is yours so are all its vassals, especially those in the eastern kingdoms.’

  Dharma shifted again in his seat, uncertain and tense. ‘But how do we get rid of him? Govinda, forgive me, but even you retreated before the Emperor’s might …’

  Govinda good-humouredly waved the comment aside. ‘Even if you won a war against him the aftermath wouldn’t be worth it. The kind of taxes and tributes that you’d have to impose on your vassals just to set right the devastation and rebuild your armies would make you very unpopular. You’d be asking for a reign filled with rebellion and conflict.’

  ‘Then there’s no hope,’ Dharma said, sitting back in a sulk.

  ‘Jarasandha’s not a stupid man,’ Govinda continued. He stood up and looked down at Dharma with a smile. ‘He knows you can’t afford a war and will try to escalate hostilities and declare war the moment he can show just cause. The slightest whiff of an attack or any offensive against him, and he’ll march out with his army. We need to meet the lion in his den, get him on the defensive. We have to fight him without giving him time to consider alternatives.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ Dharma declared, rising to his feet.

  ‘Nothing’s impossible. Leave it to me … But don’t speak of things beyond the immediate to anyone just yet, Dharma. Don’t speak of an empire to anyone. Not even to Panchali.’

  Dharma looked at the man, trying hard to not appear overly effusive. Nevertheless, he could not help but show some excitement, and joyfully embraced Govinda. As he returned the gesture, Govinda wondered what Panchali would have to say about all of this.