The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2

by Krishna Udayasankar

  Panchali set her face into studied neutrality, her stance more confident and commanding than she had allowed herself to assume since she took on the identity of Malini the handmaiden. ‘You’re a good man, General.’

  ‘But…?’

  ‘No buts. We have other matters to discuss. You took a great leap of faith the other day, when you trusted me with your biggest secrets. Now it is my turn. I ask for your patience to hear me out, for these are things that I myself did not understand till you told me what you did. I need you to trust me as you did before and listen to what I have to say before you make your decision.’

  ‘Of course. What is it you want to tell me, Malini? You’ve always been mysterious, but I’ve never seen you this serious.’

  Panchali took a deep breath and chose her next words with care. ‘You said I gave you hope. You are not the first man to say that to me. Just as you are not the first person to hear what you said were your enemy’s words: “Every poison is defined by its antidote.” He… the man you consider your enemy…once said those words to me.’

  Keechak started despite his assurances of patience. ‘You know him?’

  ‘I do,’ Panchali said. ‘I know him. But it was not till you spoke of him, not till you showed me what you did, that I understood what it was that he has done. He is not your foe, General. He never betrayed you. He truly believed that neither Firewright nor Firstborn had the complete solution. He believes in dualities, in the power of opposites. When he bound all of Aryavarta into an empire, he left Matsya an island. Why? Because where the empire would grow by having everything, Matsya would prosper, as it has, because it had nothing. Your skills with metal are unparalleled today, perhaps even in the world. He knew you would grow, and grow to become a society that valued all that he believed was good and just – equality, self-reliance, compassion… I shall be honest. I, too, once thought Matsya was a land of impoverished heathens. But I now see…’

  ‘Stop the flattery, Malini. What is it you are trying to say?’

  The General’s sharp tone stirred the first traces of fear in Panchali. She wondered if she had been hasty. Brushing the thought aside, she willed all the conviction she felt to show through in her words. ‘He never meant for Matsya to fall. He would never betray you. Your isolation was necessary, so that unlike the rest of Aryavarta you would turn your skills to the things that mattered rather than to making weapons. And you’ve done exactly that, don’t you see! Soon, it will be time for you to share your knowledge with the rest of the realm, to guide them to more peace and prosperity than anyone ever imagined. It is as you said: Matsya will rise. Matsya is meant to rise!’

  ‘And how would you know?’

  ‘Because I know him. I know what he thinks, what his plans are. His ultimate loyalty is neither to Firewright nor Firstborn, but to humanity. I too once thought he served no interest but his own, till…’ She gave up, not finding the words to convey her emotions. ‘Send for him, General. Let him explain. Govinda Shauri always has a plan.’

  Many things happened in quick succession after that. Bhim and Partha hardly had the time to recover from what Panchali had said and done when Keechak, who had gone unnaturally still, suddenly threw himself at her. His large hands were around Panchali’s neck before she could react.

  ‘Why?’ The General asked, shouting now, his need for comprehension alone keeping him from snapping Panchali’s neck in two. ‘Who are you? Why did you do this? Did he send you here? Did that traitor send you here?’

  Panchali tried her best to keep calm. ‘Yes,’ she gasped. ‘I mean… I think so. He wanted me safe. Just as he wanted Matsya safe. You must believe me…’

  ‘There is nothing to believe.’ The General tightened his grasp.

  Panchali felt darkness sweep down on her as her breath tightened in her chest. A burning sensation shot from her throat to her stomach and she felt her knees buckle. Yet, for all her discomfort and the memory of all that had happened over the last years, she felt unafraid. She knew. She understood. There was still hope. There was still Govinda. She closed her eyes and readied herself to die. Hardly was she aware of the presence of someone behind her than she felt the pressure around her neck give. She fell to the ground, coughing hard

  ‘Panchali! Are you all right?’ She heard Partha’s voice, and felt his hands, with familiar calluses from his once-life as an archer and marked by the more recent fragrance of turmeric and rose water, on her face. She opened her eyes, to a sight that ought to have terrified her, but did not. The General was on his knees, his red, contorted face held tight in the crook of Bhim’s arm. His eyes were bulging out, blood pooled in them as tears otherwise would have, and more blood flowed from his ears, while drool dripped from his slack jaw as he struggled, ineffectively, to breathe. He tried to kick down Bhim, claw at him, but to no avail. The General was the stronger man, yes, but Bhim was impelled by his cold rage, the cumulative resentment and anger that he had suppressed for years.

  Panchali had never seen Bhim like this: silent and contained, even during a fight. It frightened her to see this side of a man she thought she knew well. ‘No, Bhim!’ she called out. Her eyes sought out Keechak.

  ‘General, please! All I ask for is a chance to explain.’

  In response, Keechak mustered the last of his strength and spat at her. Panchali considered him for a moment longer, and then looked at Bhim. She nodded her head once. The two men remained frozen for what felt like a long time, though Keechak’s eyes showed his desperate – and ineffective – struggle to escape Bhim’s grip. Finally, Bhim moved, letting go, and the General slid to the floor, lifeless.

  Slowly, Panchali got to her feet. Her eyes held certainty. ‘Thank you, Bhim. And you too, Partha.’

  ‘What…what is going on Panchali?’ Partha said.

  ‘I’ll explain tomorrow. It’s a long story.’

  ‘Does it have something to do with the General’s private palace?’

  ‘It’s not a palace. It’s a workshop.’

  ‘And it has something to do with Govinda?’

  ‘Yes. He sent us here, I’m sure of it. Matsya was part of his plan, it always was. He sent us here only because we were in too much danger, outside.. That being the case, the General’s death…’ She shook her head. ‘Tomorrow. We will speak tomorrow. Now, get rid of the body.’

  Bhim said, ‘We’ll need to find an excuse, an explanation…’

  ‘We’ll find nothing, Bhim. We know nothing and so have absolutely nothing to say. Let the General’s disappearance be discovered in due course and let rumours spread, as they will. If we try to intervene or misdirect, we will only attract attention to ourselves.’

  ‘Still,’ Bhim countered, ‘we should at least tell Dharma before we do anything at all.’

  ‘We tell no one,’ Panchali snapped. Softening, she added, ‘Dharma does what he believes right from his point of view, just as the General did what he believed right. And in the same way I can only do what is right. Your brother…his is a difficult path. He tries to remain truly committed to an ideal that is no longer relevant. Ten generations ago, he would have been the best of us all. Now, while he remains the same, the world around him has changed. It’s not easy for him to live with that. More tomorrow. I need to think, I need to unravel this complicated web before we decide on our next step, otherwise….’ She trailed off, her brow furrowed in thought. ‘Never mind that, I’d better get going before someone notices both Malini and Brihannala are missing from the Queen’s palace. Bury the body and get some sleep, both of you.’ She did not wait for a reply, but left the dancing hall.

  Bhim and Partha exchanged a glance before stepping forward to dispose of the General’s bloody, lifeless body. None of them noticed the figure in one of the dark corridors overlooking the chamber, standing still and silent against the wall, intent on their every word and action.

  13

  ‘IT’S A SIMPLE ENOUGH CALCULATION, SYODDHAN,’ SHAKUNI WAS saying. ‘These disparate incidents – the attacks on V
asusena’s forges, General Keechak’s death in Matsya – may not mean much. But taken together, they cannot be dismissed.’

  Syoddhan pressed down on each of his fingers one by one as he paced the room, letting his knuckles crack loudly. The sound rang through the near-empty chamber like sneers, as if the pristine marble was mocking him, flaunting its unblemished whiteness as a reminder of the momentous events that had played out in this very hall. He put the past out of his mind and turned his attention to the issues at hand. The news of the strange events in Matsya had finally found their way to Hastina, where the announcement of the General’s death, in particular, had been received with mixed emotions. To add to that, Devala and Vasusena had arrived bearing their own tidings, this time unambiguously disastrous. Many of the forges they had set up in Anga had been attacked and destroyed completely. Syoddhan had known better than to ignore these incidents and had called his advisors together to get their views. As always, the session was presided over in name by his father, King Dhritarastra – the man, he noted with a private smile, with the greatest ambitions of them all.

  Aware that everyone’s eyes were on him, Syoddhan stopped mid-stride and spun around to face the group. He said, ‘I agree with you, Uncle. But I also think that seeing conspiracy where none exists is counterproductive. Dharma Yudhisthir indulged in such guile and political conniving. Where did it lead him? Men who build towers of sand cannot hope to live in them for long.’ He looked at Devala as he spoke. It did not go unnoticed.

  The Firewright said, ‘I agree. And that is precisely why we must act. You see, the situation now is…shall we say…more comparative than competitive. It doesn’t matter what your military strength is in absolute terms. Rather, it matters how much stronger you are, compared to potential challengers.’

  ‘And who might such potential challengers be?’

  ‘Anyone in Aryavarta, really,’ Shakuni said. ‘Any king or vassal prince who can craft the right alliances with the right people. Ambition is a vice in those who lack the power to act in its furtherance. In a warrior, however, it is the ultimate virtue. Which is why you must choose, you must decide what you will do, and do it quickly. You may think that the events in the east have nothing to do with the General’s death. I agree they may not be related in cause, but the consequences are linked. The loss of the forges in Anga makes you weaker. Not considerably weaker, but weak enough that it may tempt another ruler… Say, for example, Susarman of Trigarta, may consider annexing Matsya. Admittedly, Susarman is hardly a match for you and your allies today, but that would change the moment he holds Matsya – enough for many of your vassals to go over to his side. You cannot afford to ignore the inevitable. Now that the General is dead, every man of some means in Aryavarta will think, at least briefly, of conquering Matsya. There are few who can do it, but the point is why should you not be the one?’

  Syoddhan sighed, still not convinced. ‘Why is Matsya so important? We don’t even know what is there!’

  It was Sanjaya who said, ‘Neither does anyone else. Matsya may mean nothing, or it may be everything. No one knows, and it was our common ignorance, combined with caution, that had led all of Aryavarta to stay away from Matsya. But the empire…it is like a pack of wild dogs, Your Highness. They wait, wary of each other, but as soon as one of them makes a move towards the meat, they will all throw themselves at it. And besides, you might be willing to trust in the loyalty of your vassals, but there are others to consider…’

  Indifferent to Bhisma and Dron’s presence and eager to show it, Vasusena let out a crude swear. ‘Yabha! Who in the name of an elephant’s backside are you talking about?’

  Devala said, ‘What about Dharma Yudhisthir? And what about Govinda Shauri?’

  ‘Listen to me carefully, Syoddhan,’ Dron began in the tone of instruction that had now become a habit. ‘You’re now the strongest of warriors in all of Aryavarta and, by the values we hold sacrosanct, the only one fit to lead. Lawfully and morally either you or your father ought to become the Emperor of Aryavarta. But the fact remains that Dharma is your brother. He and the other four are Kaurava as much as you are, and as for Govinda…’

  Syoddhan favoured the teacher with a doubtful look. It bordered on insolence, but right then he felt little respect for his father’s counsellors. ‘Vathu!’ he snapped. ‘Enough! Govinda! Govinda! What’s this constant obsession with Govinda? Why does everyone elevate him, as if he remains above these sordid affairs? All over Aryavarta, men long for power and title – scholar and warrior alike. Govinda is just one of those men. A clever man no doubt, but he’s no different from the rest! None of us is! But, I no longer care to pass judgement on Govinda Shauri, or my cousin Dharma, or anyone else for that matter.

  ‘Consider me a fool if you like, but I believe that we must live by the principles that we seek to embed in the fabric of society. This isn’t just a moral stand, but a practical one. If we forsake principles to send a message, then that message itself is lost. We can’t fight manipulation with more manipulation and intrigue; nor can we change a tyrannical system by resorting to coercion. Still…’ He took a deep breath and added, ‘I won’t risk civil war for this. Announce to the vassals that there will be a joint expedition to Matsya. We will begin by laying siege to the city-state and see if we can negotiate a surrender. Above all, I want Susarman’s cooperation in this. If it is to happen, let it happen that way.’

  Bhisma intervened, ‘Consider the alternative too, Syoddhan. What if we refuse to invade Matsya? If we refuse to be yet another kingdom harnessed into submission by the Firewrights?’

  It was Devala who answered, though he addressed Syoddhan. ‘Then you risk being harnessed into submission by Govinda Shauri. Or, really, any man who is willing to seize the might that is Matsya. You cannot confuse the future of the Kuru kingdom, why even all of Aryavarta, with your affections for your kinsmen. Who in Aryavarta can exercise the restraint you and your grand-nephew here have shown? Really, would you trust anyone else? I have named Dharma and Govinda as your obvious contenders, but surely you can see that there are others too?’ he glanced, discreet but meaningful, at Dussasan.

  Bhisma followed the Firewrights’s gaze. He began to speak, ostensibly in continuation of his earlier argument, but decided against it. Syoddhan looked at the two of them and then at his brother. The very sight of Dussasan, insolently sprawled out, languid and half-drunk, made Syoddhan feel strangely repulsed, and the thought of that drunken pig on any throne only increased his resolve to keep a firm hold over the empire. He drew his breath in with a hiss as he realized how the many threads came together. ‘All right.’

  ‘But what about Govinda?’ Dussasan drawled.

  Syoddhan ignored the drool that rolled down his brother’s drink-slackened jaw and looked to Vasusena. ‘Take care of it. Quietly. Don’t involve any of the Yadus. I don’t want Govinda’s death laid at our doorstep. And take care of that problem in Anga, too. You said you suspected a rebellion by the forest-folk, isn’t it? Well, deal with them in a way that affirms our control over the situation. I want you to bring your troops here to join in the attack against Matsya. Make an example of those foresters so that no one will think of giving us trouble while our attention is on the west.’

  Vidur stepped in. ‘This is both unnecessary and misguided, Syoddhan,’ he said. ‘I must protest. Dharma…’

  ‘And I must insist,’ Syoddhan said. ‘You’re notoriously transparent, Kshatta. You’ve always had a soft corner for Dharma, but now you are allowing your partiality to interfere with your duty as the royal advisor. It seems to me that all your counsel is designedly contrary to my interests. It certainly doesn’t become a man of your reputation to manipulate me this way!’

  ‘The task of a counsellor is to provide advice, irrespective of whether it draws fame or disfavour. I realize that my words are no longer pleasing, nor welcome to you. But, forgive me, it’s my duty to say what I must. Nothing is ever gained by forsaking compassion and virtue. My advice cannot change to plea
se your tastes. If you order me to leave, I’ll obey without hesitation. But, if I speak, my counsel remains the same.’

  ‘Then, Kshatta, you’ll no doubt understand if I choose, as a simple policy, to never heed a word you say. Particularly when my teacher and my grandfather both agree that my chosen course of action is the one I’m duty-bound to follow – whether it brings desirable outcomes or not.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Vidur inclined his head politely.

  Syoddhan nodded and strode out of the room. All the others followed him, except for Vidur.

  ‘Your Highness,’ Vidur began, as soon as he was alone with the king. ‘You know Syoddhan will listen to you. If you forbid him…’

  ‘Ah, brother! I know your advice to be for the best but, alas, I’m at the mercy of my tempestuous son and his noble ambitions. He is every bit a warrior and believes in the virtue of conquest. At times, he may appear over-eager, but like you he always has our nation’s glory at heart.’ Dhritarastra sighed again, for added effect. ‘You’re lucky, dear Vidur. You don’t know what a father must suffer for the love he bears his son.’

  Vidur said nothing. He knew Dhritarastra’s comment could not be further from the truth.

  14

  SANJAYA GAVALGANI SMILED IN HARD-WON SATISFACTION. AFTER all these years, things were now in place, just where he had meant for them to be. One last detail remained, one last man to be settled into submission. But there was no room for mistakes. He had to let the man make the first move. So, Sanjaya waited patiently till Vidur sent for him. He then made his way to the older courtier’s study briskly enough to show respect yet in a leisurely enough manner to show confidence. As he strode down the corridors, Sanjaya found himself thinking of his childhood, here in this very palace at Hastina. It seemed appropriate to indulge in a little reminiscence, for today would be a very big day.

  Sanjaya had known neither his father nor his mother. He had been brought up with the Kuru princes, as one of them – at least for a while. But a suta could be treated as a prince for only so long. He was merely the son of Gavalgana, King Vichitravirya’s charioteer. Or so they had told him.