Chandra watched with amusement as she almost went green with jealousy. But then her expression turned sombre. Subadra put her palm on Chandra’s cheek. “You deserve an heir, my lord,” she said. “Bharat will collapse if you leave no one to take care of your subjects.”
Chandra grasped her hand. “I will not marry again, Subadra,” he said. “I married you because I loved you. You are not just a means for me to have children. If the gods do not will it then so be it. Even if I do not have an heir, someone else will take over after me.”
“But the people love you, Chandra,” Subadra said. “They want another king like you: just, strong and compassionate.”
Chandra shook his head. “A man’s character is not determined by his birth, Subadra. It is through experience. I will train the next in line, whoever it is. I will make sure he is like me.”
Subadra sighed and returned to feeding chillies to the parrot.
“The Queen is sad,” the parrot squawked.
“What is the matter, dear?” Chandra asked.
“I want children,” Subadra said. She began to weep. “I want children like you, Chandra. I want them to look and to smell like you, I want more of you in the world. I will have failed in my duty unless this happens.”
Chandra felt a dagger through his heart, as he always did when his queen wept. He took her in his arms. “I will find a way, Subadra. You will have children, my children.”
***
“I had no progeny for many years, sire,” the rotund merchant told Chandra. “My wife was barren and you know how men of the merchant caste are not allowed more than one wife. My great wealth would have been divided among my scoundrel brothers.” He turned to the court. “Brothers are not trustworthy. I was such a worried man.”
“But I heard of the great sage who meditated in the foothills of the Himalayas. This man has a powerful connection to the gods, your Highness. He asked me to arrange the weddings of eight low-born girls.”
He looked darkly at the assembly. “At first I thought he must be a charlatan. You can never rely on these mendicants. One of them sold my wife a balm to make her slimmer. She now looks like a clay pot, I swear...”
“Stay on topic, dear man,” Chandra said. The merchant would go off on frustrating tangents.
“Apologies, your Highness,” the merchant said. “In any case, I followed the mendicant’s advice. My wife’s belly swelled like a pumpkin... This was before the balm. That balm...”
Chandra gave him a stern look.
The merchant gulped. “She gave birth to octuplets: four sons to run my trade and four daughters to give me several grandchildren.”
“And where is he now?” Chandra asked.
“The one who sold me the balm?” the merchant said. “He is in prison.“
“No, the one who told you to arrange the weddings,” Chandra said.
“Oh, him.” The merchant nodded frantically. “Yes, your Highness. I went back to him. I am a man who rewards those who are of service to me. But I was informed he had retreated to the peak of Manaslu. I am just a merchant, your Highness. I cannot possibly hope to scale a mountain so high. And now that the balm has made my wife...”
Chandra raised his hand to silence the merchant. He turned to Subadra who was sitting by his side rapt with attention.
“I will go,” Chandra said. “I will make a pilgrimage to the mountain. I am sure I can scale it. I will come back with a boon.”
“I will accompany you,” Subadra said.
He shook his head. “You cannot come, Subadra. It will take a month to reach the foothills. The path is dangerous. It would also require superhuman skills to scale the mountain. In your condition...”
Subadra turned to Chandra, anger flaring in her doe-eyes. “Have you forgotten why you fell in love with me in the first place?”
Chandra relented. The blood of the fearsome warriors of Magadha coursed through her veins. He could never win against her determination.
“Very well, Subadra,” Chandra said. “The two of us will make the pilgrimage to Mount Manaslu.”
The courtiers protested. “But who will rule while you are gone?”
Chandra stood up. He handed the Purogata to his general. “You will rule in my stead. The sword stands as representative of the King of Bharat. It can only be wielded by the one it chooses as worthy to lead our nation.”
The general kneeled in reverence. He received the Purogata with both hands. Chandra smiled. It was a great honour to even touch the legendary sword that had been passed on for centuries from one King of Bharat to the next.
Chandra then took Subadra’s hand and proclaimed to the court. “We will return with an heir or we will not return at all.”
***
Wind and snow seemed to pierce Chandra’s skin like needles. He turned to see Subadra, who was shivering in the cold. Condensation formed at her mouth when she coughed. The royal couple was trekking through the snows of the Himalayas wearing only saffron vestments. The council had told him to take along servants and bodyguards but Chandra had refused. Subadra insisted that they do this pilgrimage by themselves.
The month-long journey to the foot of Mount Manaslu had been easy. Chandra enjoyed getting a respite from running the country and being able to spend all his day with Subadra. They met many subjects, saw many sights and fell in love again several times over.
However, they were humbled when they saw the lofty peak of Manaslu. To scale it in their current condition would be an extraordinary feat. It would not have been a challenge for him had he been in his peak health. But a month of irregular food and sleep had taken its toll on him. And Subadra’s condition had worsened.
However, with the name of the War God on their lips, they began their trek. Until the foot of the mountain they had encountered the poor; now they encountered the wild. Creatures they had only read about freely roamed the mountains.
The higher they went the sparser life became. By the time they reached the snowy part of the mountain, there were no shrubs they could forage. Chandra would hunt a stray bird to eat but Subadra refused to eat meat. He grew concerned for her health as her bones began to show through her skin. However, she willed herself to overcome exhaustion and hunger.
Finally, they had nearly reached the peak. Snow fell on all sides like torrential rain. Icy winds froze his bones.
“We are almost there,” Chandra encouraged Subadra. She was coughing hard as she tried to keep pace with him. She nodded and gestured to him to go ahead.
Chandra walked ahead and saw a shadowy figure meditating on the peak. Only one man could be meditating so high up on the mountain. Chandra knew they had found the one they were looking for.
He turned to call Subadra. “We have arrived!” he exclaimed.
She beamed. She tried to quicken her pace, but became unsteady – and then she collapsed on the snow.
CHAPTER 4
His Holiness
Chandra ran to Subadra.
She had fainted. He pressed his ear against her chest and realised that her heart had slowed. Maybe the sage would be able to help.
He lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the peak.
The sage was meditating cross-legged on a tiger pelt spread atop an icy boulder. His long hair and beard were glazed with frost. Despite this, he was wearing only animal skins.
“Welcome, King Chandra,” he said in a baritone as he opened his eyes.
“Your holiness,” Chandra said as he bowed down in reverence.
“Your holiness?” the sage said. He put a finger to his chin. “Am I holy? Or am I just wearing the guise of a holy man in this birth? What is my place in the world? What is my place in the Cosmic Design?”
Chandra did not respond. He knew that great sages were usually mad. Living isolated from society affected one’s mind.
He touched his fo
rehead on the ground before the sage’s crossed feet. “It is an honour to meet you, your holiness.”
“Why have you come here looking for me, king?” the sage asked.
“We need your help, your holiness,” Chandra said. He raised the limp body of his wife.
“Stop calling me holy,” the sage said. “I am far from it. Place the lady on the pelt.” He then handed Chandra a bowl. “Put some snow in this.”
Chandra took the bowl and put handfuls of snow into it. Once the bowl was full he handed it back. The sage took the bowl in his hand and the snow promptly melted into water, which the sage poured into Subadra’s mouth. Upon drinking water, Subadra coughed and began to tremble in the icy wind.
“What is that in your bag?” the sage asked.
“These are dry fruits and sweets,” Chandra said. “We brought them as offerings to you.”
“Offer them to this lady,” the sage said. “She needs them more than I do.”
Chandra nodded. He fed some fruits to Subadra, who chewed them slowly. The sage held the bowl to her lips again and she gulped down some more water.
The sage pointed to a collection of animal pelts by his side. “Cover her body. Her feet are frostbitten. Her lungs have been consumed by the icy air and her blood has been drained of nutrients.”
Chandra frantically gathered up the animal skins and wrapped them around Subadra.
“Why this arduous journey to my humble abode, king?” the sage asked.
Chandra breathed in. “We need your help, your holiness. We need a son.”
“You know there are far more enjoyable ways to make children than trekking up a snowy mountain,” the sage said, then laughed heartily.
“My wife,” the king said. “She is barren.”
“Oh,” the sage said. “How can I help you then?”
“I want you to give me a boon,” Chandra said, “which I can use to get an heir.”
The sage sighed. “My king, do you want to know why I came here into these mountains? It was because when I was near civilisation, every day some lout would come to me asking for a son. How many sons does this nation need? What about daughters? Who will your sons marry?
“In any case, sons or daughters, I am a sage. My duty is to contemplate the mysteries of the Cosmic Design, not a midwife. I came to this high and dangerous peak hoping to finally find some peace and quiet. But look who turns up? The King of Bharat himself, asking for a son.”
“But,” Chandra said, “he will be the heir to the throne of men. This will determine the course of history.”
The sage laughed. “The course of history? Oh, the hubris. Let me tell you, king. In the grand Cosmic Design, your empire is nothing but a speck of dust and your ‘history’ is just the blink of an eye.”
Chandra did not know how to respond. He did not care about the Cosmic Design. He was a simple man who only cared for the present moment.
“Very well,” the sage said, “I will grant you your boon. What will you give as a tribute?”
Chandra pulled out more of the sweets, fruits and ritual materials that he had brought along.
“What is this?” the sage asked. “It is a powerful boon you require, king. It is a great tribute you must give.”
“Forgive me,” Chandra said. “I will get the tribute to you once I am back to my kingdom.” He showed the sage his empty hands. “I don’t have anything else with me right now,”
“That doesn’t work,” the sage said.
Suddenly Subadra began wheezing in fits.
The sage stared at her for some time. He sighed and shook his head. “You shall have your son,” the sage said. “In fact, you can have as many sons as you wish. Sacrifice birds in the name of the Fire God. You will have a child with the same qualities as the bird. That is your boon.”
“Thank you, o sage,” Chandra said as he touched his feet. “I apologise for not bringing a worthy enough tribute. I will arrange for it as soon as I am back. ”
The sage raised his hand to bless the king. “You don’t need to bring any more tributes.” He placed his hand on Subadra’s forehead. “Your queen has already sacrificed enough. Now take her back home.”
Chandra touched the sage’s feet again and he lifted up Subadra in his arms.
As she began to open her eyes, Chandra smiled at her. “Subadra,” he said, “the sage has granted us a boon. We will have many sons.”
“That is good news,” she said.
“Yes,” Chandra said. “The journey was worth it.”
Subadra nodded. “It was a beautiful journey. I got you to myself after so long, Chandra. It felt like our first journey together. Look how life comes full circle. Our life together began and ends with a journey.”
“What are you saying?” Chandra said. “We have much longer to live together.”
She looked up at him with fading eyes and smiled. “I have fulfilled my duty, my love. Promise me that you will meet me in the next birth.”
And then along with the snowflakes, the howling winds of Manaslu carried Subadra’s spirit away.
CHAPTER 5
The Sacrifice
Chandra wept as he carried the corpse of his wife down the mountain. The joy at the prospect of having children was quickly overwhelmed by the sorrow of losing Subadra. What use were the children if he did not have her as their mother? What use was he?
Saviour of the three worlds, protector of Bharat, Hero of the Age: all these were his epithets, yet he could not save his own wife.
He did not stop to rest on the journey down. The goal of descending the mountain kept his mind off the dead Subadra in his arms. He did not look at her as he feared his anguish would consume him.
After two days of frantic stumbling, he reached the foot of the mountain. When he reached the plains, he realised there was nothing beckoning him onwards any more. He looked down at his wife’s dead face and his heart almost burst. He could not go on.
Suddenly a familiar neighing greeted him. He raised his eyes. In front of him was the general astride a black stallion. To both sides were Chandra’s aides and servants holding trays of flowers, fruits and sweets.
“What are you doing here?” Chandra asked.
“I had the whole nation keep an eye on you, my lord,” the general said. “As soon as I got news that you had reached the foot of Manaslu, I left all else and made my way here. I cannot let the one true king of Bharat have no one to welcome him when he returns from his self-imposed exile.”
The general’s eyes fell on the limp body of Subadra in Chandra’s arms. He quickly leapt off his horse and ran to the king’s aid. “What happened, your Highness?”
“She is gone,” Chandra said. “Subadra is gone. Oh, how my heart pains me.” His sorrow crept upon him again. He wished to cry.
But then he looked over the general’s shoulder and saw his subjects, who were desperate to hear the news. Chandra sighed. He had to be a king today. He composed himself and announced. “The nation’s future is secure. I will have an heir.”
The assembly roared in approval. “Hail the king! Hail Bharat! Hail war!”
***
The whole nation celebrated. In the day, people welcomed his entourage with drums and dancers. At night, villages and towns would be lit up with earthen lamps.
The biggest celebration awaited Chandra at the capital. The streets were lined with revellers. People cheered his name everywhere. Flowers rained from the rooftops and rose water was poured on the streets.
However, Chandra’s mind was warped with grief. He had cremated his wife at the foothills and dispersed her ashes in the Ganges. All meaning in his life dissolved in the river along with her remains. The celebrations were a mere charade, to his mind.
When he was back at his palace all the nobles congratulated him on his successful pilgrimage and return. He faked smiles till his f
ace ached. He craved solitude.
He got it at long last when he finally reached the queen’s chambers. Her fragrance still wafted through the air. He pulled the sheets off her bed and cried into them.
Suddenly a squawk distracted him. Subadra’s tiny parrot flew to Chandra and began plucking at his hair.
Chandra looked up and smiled. The bird was the last connection to the love of his life.
“What have you been up to, you naughty thing?” he asked as he extended a finger for the adorable bird to perch on.
The bird squawked. “Chandra, Chandra.”
“Shouldn’t you call me King Chandra?” Chandra said.
“Old now, Kanha old,” the parrot squawked.
Chandra lovingly stroked the bird’s head.
“Sacrifice,” the parrot said.
Chandra was shocked. “What did you say?”
The bird squawked again. “Sacrifice ... sacrifice.”
Chandra stared at the parrot. Why was it talking about sacrifice?
“Sacrifice,” the parrot said. “Subadra.”
Chandra gasped. The parrot was sharing Subadra’s will.
He rushed out the door and asked the startled guards to summon messengers.
As soon as they were assembled, he announced: “Send an invitation to all the great noble families. A great sacrifice is going to be held at our palace. Everyone is invited. But when they come they have to bring a sacrificial bird as a tribute. A bird which they feel has the qualities a king should possess.
“The one who brings the best sacrificial bird will be given a village of his choice. The sacrifice will be held in two weeks.”
He had incited the competitive spirit of the nobility. It would be a sight to behold when the great families tried to outdo each other with their tributes.
“Is a village enough of a draw?” the general asked when he heard of the news.
Chandra laughed. “Even if I had promised them a potted plant they would put in their best. Victory is their prize.”
The Epic of Kautilya : Born To Be King Page 3