The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2

by Krishna Udayasankar

  ‘Remind me to meet him. It would make me wistful, I suppose, but it would also give me great pleasure.’

  ‘And hope?’

  ‘And hope, yes.’

  ‘You deserve it. This has always been a hard fight, but your lot has been a particularly lonely one.’

  ‘Has it? I suppose, yes. It is difficult to hide things so deep from your own self that no one could ever see who your really are. To look at one’s own reflection and wonder who you are at any given instant, and if anything you are is real or true. Frankly, I admire Sanjaya for the way he has been able to do that. He fooled me, and I must take responsibility for what has since come to pass. You told me long ago that the person behind Devala’s rise had to be one who held authority to act in the Vyasa’s name. I suppose I have been as blind as the Vyasa, to not have admitted it all this while. That has been my fatal flaw.’

  ‘Every man and every woman has a fatal flaw, Acharya. It is these foibles that are the very foundations of humanity.’

  ‘Flaws are the foundations of humanity? That’s a new philosophy, Govinda. Whatever happened to emulating divinity?’

  ‘Its overprized. Humanity is wonderful, just as it is. Have you ever heard of gods striving to be more? But that’s how we human beings are – we seek courage to overcome fear, in suffering we find compassion, and without anger we would never know the meaning of forgiveness. Most of all, without passion we would never know the true depths of Oneness, for passion is our flawed title for what is a sense of unfettered potential, of infinity and of love. That is a lesson that took me a while to learn.’

  The Secret Keeper clucked his tongue. The light moment hardly lasted, though, and he was sombre again. ‘So, once again, Govinda Shauri comes to Aryavarta with a plan. But after what has happened here, I don’t know if I can trust you.’

  ‘Do you doubt me?’ Govinda asked, the hint of a smile in his eyes.

  The Secret Keeper found it difficult to meet the gaze and looked away as he said, ‘I’m not sure you act in the best interests of Aryavarta anymore. We had a plan. Things were going well. Matsya had been the isolated womb of new skills and new methods and if Syoddhan had brought it under his sway, as he intended to, then the entire realm would have benefitted. I admit, it happened sooner than was expected, but it was not contrary to our plans. Once Dharma lost his empire, Syoddhan became the next and most obvious choice. All would have turned out exactly as we had once wanted it to. But instead of staying away and letting it happen, as you were supposed to, you intervened. Do you realize what you’ve done? Keeping the secret of Satya’s true allegiance was not only in the interests of the Firstborn, it was in our interests too. We’ve lost our influence over the Firstborn, and we’ve created a new struggle for power. Now every petty ruler in Aryavarta will claim allegiance to us, if not link us to their ancestry. You’ve destroyed everything that we worked for, Govinda. Where the Firewrights ought to have disappeared into ignominy and legend, you have resurrected them, made them real. In short, you’ve set us back three generations.

  ‘Are you blaming me, Acharya?’

  ‘I’m asking you, Govinda. I’m asking you how it is that the most rational, selfless man I know could suddenly take a personal decision, a decision that served the interests of a few over that of many.’

  ‘You’re right, it was personal.’

  ‘That’s not an answer. I want to know why. You have thrown this very same woman away time and again; treated her as nothing more than an instrument, a puppet; let her suffer things that no person should have to endure. Why this newfound concern for her safety and well-being?’

  Govinda reached out instinctively to pet a calf as he considered his next words. Then he turned back to the Secret Keeper. ‘For years now, both Firewright and Firstborn have fought over what has been best for Aryavarta. They have both considered themselves justified in all that they do, all that they achieve no matter what the means, because they have thought themselves as righteous and good.’

  ‘This is an age-old dilemma. The fact is, both have been right and both have been wrong.’

  ‘Yes. And in that conflict lies progress. Everything has a counter, an opposite. The Firstborn and the Firewrights have not only been opposites, they have been complementary, even essential to each other. It is in the constant debate between philosophy and science, between faith and reason, and imposed morality and uninculcated virtue that we of Aryavarta have grown to glory. You remember men like Ghora Angirasa…even Parashara Varuni or his ancestor Shakti, and the many tales we have heard of their famed dialogues, the endless dialectic and fearless enquiry that has led to what we today revere as sacred knowledge? They were rivals, enemies even…but Aryavarta prospered under their rivalry.’

  ‘Then how did it come to this, Govinda? All you or I have ever known is blood and politics. Who brought it to this? The Firewrights? The Firstborn? The kings of Aryavarta?’

  ‘Human failing.’

  ‘But whose?’

  ‘The failing of every man and woman who refused to stand up against what was wrong. The failing of every one of us who did not stand by what was right. What happened with Panchali…’ He trailed off.

  ‘Is that what this is about, Govinda? Revenge?’

  ‘It’s about that which you long for, too, Acharya. It’s about hope.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Govinda considered the honest admission, all the more humble for the unquestionable wisdom of the man who had made it. He said, ‘When we first met, a long time ago, you told me that for a cowherd to rise to be a prince was nothing less than the work of either divinity or destiny…do you remember?’

  ‘I do. I also remember what you said. You told me that your rise was the work of neither divinity nor destiny, but of humanity.’

  ‘And that, I think, has been the only other occasion, Acharya, when you’ve said you didn’t understand me.’

  ‘Surely an explanation is now overdue?’

  ‘Indeed. You asked me who is responsible for the state of things around us – Firewright, Firstborn, the kings of the realm. The answer is simple. The only person who is responsible for any situation is the one who has chosen to do nothing about it. The only people responsible for the rise of a tyrant are those who choose to submit and suffer. The only people responsible for evil are those who choose not to fight it. That the gwala you once knew rose to be prince was nothing but an instrument, a means to an end. It was the people of Surasena who raised him to that position, because they decided that enough was enough. And I don’t know about you, but I think Aryavarta has reached that point. Enough.’

  ‘Because a man sworn as Emperor to protect these lands wagered them away? Because a good woman was humilated and hurt in the most terrifying of ways?’

  ‘Because after all that happened, someone stood up and said: Enough. But it wasn’t me.’

  The Secret Keeper was taken aback. ‘Panchali. But…’

  ‘This isn’t about vengeance, Acharya. When we watch, silent, while a wrong is done, we make it all right for wrong-doing to become the new right, the new established way of life. Syoddhan allowed a wrong to happen, even though he had the power to stop it. Today, he rules us all. Dussasan, Jayadrath, Vasusena…noblemen, monarchs, mighty leaders. And Bhisma. But why blame them when I have been equally guilty – not because I could not protect Panchali, but because I did not protest when everything I want Aryavarta to stand for failed. I let despair take over…’

  ‘It’s only human, Govinda. We do not fight battles we cannot win. It is survival.’

  ‘No, Acharya, it is surrender. To not fight is to surrender. It is not for us to judge the worth of a battle by its outcome. We must do what we must. And so it is that human failing is its own redemption. Humanity will rise. It’s who we are.’

  ‘And so?’

  ‘Acharya, my friend…we were willing to go against our own, we rebelled against the order we swore loyalty to. Why? Because we knew that the order had failed. Now it
is not just the old Firewright order that has failed, but the entire system around us that has shattered. Panchali simply asked for justice. The Firstborn, the Firewrights, the empire and its kings – none of them could give it to her. They all failed. I care for none of them anymore. All we can do is to be true to our convictions, be the instruments of change, till together we become change itself. Kali, the age of darkness is upon us, and I swear by Time that I shall not stand and watch in silence while humanity is lost. I swear to you, I will change Aryavarta as you know it, and the world will remember Panchali, the one who dared to stand up for what was right when no one else did.’

  As the full implications of Govinda’s words sunk in, the Secret Keeper let his concern show. ‘This…this is…’

  ‘Treachery? I’ve been accused of it more than once. It is time I earned the distinction.’

  The Secret Keeper cleared his throat, but said nothing. Govinda’s calm certitude was terrifying. Eventually, he spoke, but all he could say was, ‘You put me in a difficult position. My mandate as Secret Keeper is beyond doubt. I am sworn to preserve the spirit of the Firewrights, their knowledge and, above all, to act in the best interests of the whole realm. What you propose will reduce us to nothing. At best we will become slaves to those kings who will patronize and protect us. At worst we will be hunted down once again. Where will that leave Aryavarta, Govinda? No,’ he shook his head, ‘the only way forward is to salvage the situation, to work out a peace arrangement, an arrangement that will let me fulfil my ultimate task, the last element of our plan. I will personally…’

  ‘Peace? We can want peace all we like, Acharya, but the time for peace is past. You underestimate the power-lust, the ambition, that is seeded into our society. Duty is a good thing, yes, but not at the cost of reason. And even reason cannot be upheld at the cost of compassion. It is compassion that we have lost, Acharya, and your illusions of peace cannot bring it back.’

  ‘Vathu! Consider this a command, Govinda: Stop this madness at once. Throw your might, your support, our support behind Syoddhan. We can still make this work.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You disappoint me. I did not expect you to act this way!’

  Govinda shrugged. ‘Do you expect me to apologize?’

  ‘I am not a man you want for an enemy.’

  ‘I am not your enemy.’

  ‘You are, Govinda, if you stand in the way of what I am sworn to do. And I will do whatever it takes to meet this great responsibility, to fulfil this one last, crucial task that was left to me.’

  A feral glimmer shone in the Secret Keeper’s eyes. For all his kindness and benevolence, the scholar was a man of cold reason. ‘Think about it before you answer, Govinda,’ he urged. ‘Before we reach a point we cannot turn back from, think hard and tell me: Are you sure this is how you want things to be?’

  Govinda took a deep breath, reaching into the fount of Oneness that had never truly faded away, not since the day he had seen Panchali standing there in the forests of Kamakya. He surrendered to the sensation, fading into insignificance, inexistence, till he was nothing at all. And in that nothingness, stripped of all ego and identity, he truly came into being.

  When he spoke, it was Vasudeva Narayana himself who formed the words, ‘I am sure. It is time for revolution.’

  36

  HASTINA WAS ASTIR. EVERYWHERE SANJAYA WENT, BE IT THE great assembly hall, Syoddhan’s private chambers or even the usually quiet temples, a buzz followed him, and the words that seemed to reach his ears the most were: ‘Satya the Firewright’. No, they were, ‘Satya the loyal Firewright’.

  Conversation, argument, debate, he did not care what it was. To listen would be to invite madness, for he knew there were many, many interests he had goaded and spurred on to weave his tapestry of deceit. And now each of those voices, those interests, pulled at the warp and weft of his plans in their own self-interest. It was not an insurmountable problem. In fact, Sanjaya knew that once things settled a little, the ground would be more fertile than before for him to plant the seeds of destruction. It would be the ideal climate for him to see his plan through to its end.

  He saw Syoddhan and Grandsire Bhisma together in the armoury bonding over weapons that had previously been stored with utmost discretion to look as if they were of no importance. Vidur, uncomfortable but dedicated, described the inimitable gleam of the Wright-metal to an accompanying Dhritarastra, whose blind eyes lit up with delight. Elsewhere, he saw Dron and Asvattama in deep discussion, each man radiant with the glow of having found that which they had always been denied – acceptance by those who had earlier dismissed them. Vasusena and Dussasan alternated between sullen, excited and inebriated, even as Dussasan’s spies brought him timely updates on all that transpired in the palace as well as the on-going search for Devala throughout the realm.

  Of course, the fact remained that the recent developments had cost Sanjaya his personal hold over Dwaipayana. But a public revelation of the old scholar’s shameful secret, and that too by one such as Govinda Shauri, had only served to diminish Dwaipayana’s stature. It was only a matter of days now before the Firstborn would stand destroyed beyond recognition He nearly laughed out loud at the thought of how simple it now was: Govinda had destroyed the Firstborn and legitimized the Firewrights. Now all he had to do was destroy Govinda and the rebel Firewrights, an easy enough task. Those fools would soon be crushed under the might of Syoddhan’s empire.

  Though the situation was cause for joy, Sanjaya’s heart held a strange foreboding, a sense of impending doom, made worse by the fact that he was not usually inclined to place any worth in such irrational premonitions. He could not ignore that his calculations had been incorrect, and that Govinda’s unexpected revelations had swung the balance of power in the latter’s favour again. The thought brought to mind Dwaipayana’s old lessons on the true nature of strategy, of seeing the field of conflict as a fluid, everchanging, living creature. Another thought followed, this one self-recriminating – that despite the many years that had passed, Sanjaya still thought of Dwaipayana as his teacher and found himself applying Firstborn aphorisms to his life and actions.

  It had been a long and very lonely journey and he was tired of constantly sifting through the clutter of human minds, trying to manipulate people into doing what he wanted of them while they were convinced they were doing so of their own will and volition. A few muhurttas of silence and solitude was what he needed.

  Sanjaya headed to his small but lavish rooms in search of exactly that, but a curse escaped him as he saw his attendant waiting at the door.

  ‘Mih!’ he swore again as the identity of his visitor became apparent. Determined not to entertain the unwelcome guest with even a smattering of warmth, he burst into the room with quick, angry strides.

  He stopped.

  He was familiar with the silent nod with which his guest greeted him. But the visitor’s cold gaze, the way he reeked of arrogance and power, made him a stranger. Sanjaya could not remember the last time he had felt this unsettled, afraid from the pit of his stomach – not mortal fear, for the man before him was no warrior, and despite his considerable stature was not likely to pose any personal danger. The fear he felt was more subtle. He could smell it in his own sweat, the tang of rust and salt that overcame the perfume he was fond of wearing. For the first time in his life Sanjaya was afraid he would fail.

  ‘Come on in, Sanjaya.’ Suka was positively cheerful, startling Sanjaya. ‘Come, come, sit down. We have much to talk about and unfortunately very little time.’

  Sanjaya could only stare and wonder what had happened to the timid, reticent man he had known all these years. The Suka who stood before him looked no less self-assured than a king, an emperor even. Enraged, he lashed out, ‘Whatever you’re here for, Suka, you’re wasting your time. I’ve told your father and your half-brother this already: I will bring the Firstborn down, if it is the last thing I do. There is nothing you can say to change my mind.’

  Suka sat ba
ck, adjusting the cushion behind him for comfort. ‘Why not?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, why not? Why can’t I get you to change your mind?’

  ‘Because, unlike your father, I am not ashamed of who I am… I am not ashamed of my heritage and blood, whereas your father… Yabha! Your father finds it such a shame that he has never told you, even once in all these years, who he really is, has he? And what that makes you! Now that the whole world knows you have come to me begging for my help.’

  ‘Really, this is confusing – your father, my father, their blood, our blood. It’s all one, you know. But that’s not the point. I have no intentions of insisting on formality, so there’s no need to stand in my presence. Do sit down and let’s talk about this in a civilized manner.’

  ‘Civilized? You talk to me of being civilized when your father…’

  ‘Enough about my father. Personally, its my grandmother I’m more interested in – as, I think, are you.’

  Sanjaya clenched his teeth in a bid to show no response. He sat down.

  ‘That’s better,’ Suka said, leaning forward. ‘So, my grandmother. Queen Satya of Kuru. Of course, my grandfather…Parashara Varuni, met her before she became a queen. She was a lost princess, fleeing her tormented land… We both know the story, so there’s no point restating it. After she gave birth to my father, Dwaipayana, she met Shantanu, which makes her your ancestress by custom as well – through King Vichitravirya. You are, after all, a bastard child of the Kuru clan, are you not? For all legal purposes you are Kaurava…as much as Syoddhan and Dharma are, at least.’

  Sanjaya sprang to his feet, growling.

  ‘Sit down,’ Suka instructed, as though Sanjaya were merely a troublesome student.

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘What difference does it make? You thought my father would go to any lengths to keep the truth about Satya from me. And now that its public knowledge you think this revelation will destroy the Firstborn completely. Yes, you’re right, my father is ashamed. But you have to understand, Sanjaya, he’s human too. I think you can imagine what it is to be…shall we say…residual, like the leftovers of a sacrifice that no one wants but that still cannot be fed to pigs because it was sacred once. For what it’s worth, my father, your grandfather, Dwaipayana, still feels the same way. He does not know why he was concieved, and for whose vengeance. I think he just wanted to spare me the self-loathing that he, and in your own way you have gone through.’