MAHABHARATA SERIES BOOK#2: The Seeds of War (Mba)

by Ashok K. Banker

  In time, Devayani conceived and delivered a beautiful baby boy as her firstborn, providing Yayati with an heir.

  A thousand years passed. For this was Satya Yuga and the ages of men were far, far greater than they are now.

  Sharmishtha being younger than Devayani, she had yet to attain her prime. But in due course, she too attained that flush of womanhood and came into season. Until now, she had accepted her fate reluctantly. But with the blossoming of her womanhood, new emotions stirred within her and she was overcome by a great resentment against her tormentor, matched by an equally powerful lust for Yayati. ‘For too long have I lived in Devayani’s shadow,’ she thought, ‘enduring her endless stream of insults and humiliations. How long will I have to suffer for my one lapse? Now I am in season and my body greatly desires the love of a man as well as to bear a child of my own. I cannot stand by and let my youth blossom and fade, unplucked. I am the daughter of a king, a true princess in my own right, not a make-believe one like Devayani. I deserve a king to sire an heir upon me as well. I know that Yayati still has feelings of desire for me. Why should I not pursue him and make him my mate?’

  Her mind made up, Sharmishtha began seeking an opportunity to seduce Yayati. One day, she found her chance. The king was passing through the ashoka grove, on his way to see Devayani and their newborn son. Sharmishtha had placed herself in the grove, waiting his chariot. When she felt the ground trembling underfoot she knew he was approaching and stepped in front of his vehicle. Yayati called to his horses as he reined them in. Curious as to why Sharmishtha was barring his way, he dismounted from the chariot and went to her.

  He was struck by how much lovelier she now appeared. It had been a long, long time since he had looked upon her with lustful eyes but in the interim she had only grown more beautiful. He saw that while before she had been but an immature girl gifted with certain qualities of womanly allure, now she was a full-blown woman in her prime, lustrous with appeal, ripe with comeliness. Every movement seemed seductive, every gesture, expression, word and sound filled him with desire. Absent from Devayani’s bed for the past several months of her confinement, his manly desires were unsatiated and he was most vulnerable to feminine pulchritude. Looking at Sharmishtha at that moment, he was struck by how perfectly she matched his ideal of the most beautiful woman. She was kama itself personified in flesh. It required all his self-control to keep himself from crushing her in his arms and having his way with her there and then.

  She greeted him with a formality that was even more appealing than her newly blossomed ripeness. ‘Raje. Great son of Nahusha. You are no less than Soma, Indra, Vishnu, Yama or Varuna in your aspect and your masculine power. Yet you have always looked upon me and taken me to be but a low-born slave and servant. This is not the case. I was not always a maidservant.’

  He caught her joined palms in his hands, enfolding them with careless strength. ‘This is known to me.’

  She was surprised. ‘It is?’

  ‘Indeed. I know that you are Vrishaparva’s daughter, a princess of high birth and noble lineage, no less than my own. You are fit to be queen of the Daityas. An immaculate asuri without a flaw or blemish on your name or reputation, save the alleged crime of having crossed paths with Devayani, your former friend. Jealous of your high position and power, she asked her father to demand that you and all your companions, the daughters of the Daityas, become her maidservants for life. If he did not accede to this request, Vrishaparva would lose his preceptor and with him, the sanjivani which is the sole reason for the asuras continuing to thwart the ambitions of the devas. Helpless to refuse, Vrishaparva accepted the condition as did you, thus demonstrating your own adherence to dharma. For one thousand years I have seen you dutifully serve my wife, doing her every bidding, however undesirable or loathsome. I have admired your fortitude and dedication as well as your sense of dharma. Only a woman of great moral strength could endure such suffering with such dignity. I applaud you for your endurance and must confess a truth I have kept buried in my heart for far too long, with your permission.’

  Sharmishtha’s heart was already gladdened by the things Yayati had said. She urged him, ‘Raje, you are a king of the world. Speak your mind freely to me. I only wish to hear the truth and shall only speak the truth to you.’

  ‘Then hear this, Sharmishtha. I love you. I have loved you since the first moment I set eyes on you. I came back to that forest thinking that I was seeking Devayani but when I found her she was not the woman I had assumed her to be. The only reason I agreed to marry her was out of convenience and to avoid her father’s wrath. It was you I was attracted to during that time I spent with Devayani in the forest. I desired you more than I have ever desired any woman in my life.’

  Sharmishtha lowered her gaze shyly, genuinely moved by the power of Yayati’s desire and the evident longing in his eyes. ‘And I desired you as well, raje. But because of my cruel mistress, I could neither openly reveal my feelings for you nor reciprocate the love I saw in your eyes.’

  She raised her gaze again to him and the instant when their gazes met was like a physical blow to both, each felt the impact in his or her loins, and was overcome by a great surge of desire.

  ‘Yayati,’ she said, and he thrilled to hear his name spoken by her. ‘I wish to give myself to you now. I have been patient so long, but I cannot bear it anymore. Please, take me and make me your woman this very instant. I desire it.’

  Yayati was filled with a great conflict. ‘Oh Devayani, you do not know how much your words please me. I desire nothing less than that we be joined this instant. But before I married Devayani, her father cautioned me of one thing. He warned me against ever taking you to my bed. That was the reason why I have avoided you all these many years. I was respecting the wishes of my father-in-law, who is a great sage and powerful maharishi.’

  Sharmishtha replied: ‘Yet it was not a promise or a vow, merely a caution that you were given, am I right? There would be no sin in ignoring that caution.’

  ‘True, but if he asks me someday, I would have to admit the truth. And who knows what the consequences might be? Remember, he is a great and powerful brahmin and any sane man must fear his wrath. It would not be wise to cross him.’

  ‘Then don’t tell him! If he asks you, lie to him. After all, there are circumstances under which lying is not a sin. Specifically, there are five instances in which lying is acceptable: In jest, to women, at the time of marriage, when faced with certain death, and in order to avoid losing one’s wealth.’

  ‘It is so,’ Yayati replied. ‘But bearing false witness is also wrong and against dharma. Even if one speaks the falsehood for an ulterior purpose, it is still wrong. I am a king, Sharmishtha, I must be a role model to my people. Yatha raja tatha praja, goes the saying. As does a king, so do the people. I cannot set a wrong example. It is forbidden for me to lie, even if doing so can save me from certain destruction.’

  Sharmishtha considered the matter then replied: ‘Then do not consider it a lie at all. Our rites of marriage declare that a close friend’s marriage is equal to one’s own nuptials. By law, a friend’s husband is equivalent to one’s own husband. It is acceptable for me to regard you as my own husband and call you to my bed. In addition, I am your wife’s slave, therefore I am your slave as well, for when you married her you took possession of me as well. I regard it as my dharma to mate with you and produce a child from our union. Therefore I do not ask you to commit any sin or crime, merely to enable me to uphold my dharma. As my owner’s husband, and friend’s husband, it is your duty to help me uphold my dharma. Legally, this logic is unassailable. None can question the right of a man to have sexual congress with his own slave, as I am indeed your slave. In fact, by doing so, and by fostering a child upon me, you perform your right as a king as well, enabling me to fulfill my dharma. There can be no wrong in this act. Make love to me now, king. All doubts are dispelled. Take me in this scented arbor. My season is ripe, my body is ready, and it is the righteous thing to
do for both of us.’

  Yayati was persuaded. Inflamed by his long suppressed desire for Sharmishtha, he laid her down upon a bed of soft springy grass and made passionate love to her in the ashoka grove. Both enjoyed the pleasures of each other’s bodies and satisfied their desires completely. Their union was not merely one of lust but of genuine love, far greater than the forced bond which united Yayati and Devayani. After an afternoon of rich passion, he lovingly bid her farewell and continued on his way. She returned home as well, and was certain that she had conceived that very day.

  She was right. From that union, Sharmishtha conceived and gave birth to a son with eyes like blue lotuses, matching her own darkly beautiful eyes.

  7

  Devayani had watched her maid like a hawk all these years. Temporarily distracted by the birth of her first child, she had ceased the constant visitation of torment on Sharmishtha. Her life and routine had changed and she failed to notice Sharmishtha’s state of motherhood until it was almost time for her to give birth. Only after Sharmishtha had delivered herself of the child did Devayani come to realize that Sharmishtha was also a mother now.

  She came to see Sharmishtha, hoping to catch her offguard and was quite unhappy to see her nursing a beautiful baby boy no less resplendent than her own son. ‘What sin have you committed now, Sharmishtha?’ she asked without preamble or greeting. ‘With whom have you been rutting in the dark corners to produce this proof of your misbegotten lust?’

  Sharmishtha had expected this confrontation and had prepared her answers carefully. ‘I was visited by a rishi, mistress. A great man, learned in the Vedas and devoted to dharma. He offered me a boon and I asked for a son. He granted my wish and this is the result. Surely there can be no sin in what I did?’

  Devayani was taken aback. Of all the answers she had thought to hear, this was least expected. She could hardly find fault with such an explanation. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she admitted grumpily. ‘This is all very well. But I wish to know the name, lineage and birth details of this brahmin.’ She thought to check the details with her father and verify Sharmishtha’s story. She did not put it past her to lie blatantly to her!

  But Sharmishtha was prepared for this as well. ‘You look more radiant than ever after delivering, Devayani. Motherhoood suits you well. It has brought out your natural beauty.’ Before Devayani could repeat her request, she added, ‘I wish I could provide the details you ask for, but this rishi was so radiant and awe-inspiring. I never thought to ask him such questions. It hardly seemed to matter. After all, he was clearly some great being, possessed of magnificent spiritual energy and luminescence. I was overcome by his spiritual splendour.’

  Devayani was frustrated. But she could not accuse Sharmishtha further without some basis in fact. Such births were quite common, and it was no crime for any unmarried woman to ask a visiting brahmin to seed her with child. Her own father had probably seeded hundreds of such women in his time. It was regarded as a blessing and a benediction. The child remained the mother’s legitimate child, the father’s name being of no relevance at all. In fact, as she thought about it further, Devayani realized, this was the perfect end to her long-lasting fears of Sharmishtha becoming a rival. Now that Sharmishtha was an unwed mother with a child to raise, and was still a maid servant, her desirability had been further reduced. No man would want her, leave alone King Yayati. In the end, Devayani decided, this was a wonderful stroke of good luck. She could finally stop worrying about Sharmishtha stealing her man away.

  In the wake of this confrontation, rather than dividing the two women, the birth of Sharmishtha’s fatherless child brought them closer together. Rid of the constant anxiety that Sharmishtha might steal her husband away, and flushed with her own motherhood, Devayani was pleased to share both her new state with her long-ago friend, and inasmuch as such a thing was possible under the circumstances, their old friendship revived and flourished again. They spent hours together, sharing information on baby care, caring for one another’s infants, and otherwise enjoying each other’s company at every waking moment. The change in the relationship was striking: no more was Sharmishtha Devayani’s slave and servant. She was almost treated as an equal and friend once more! Devayani in turn altered her outlook and became sweet-smiling and good-tempered again, as she had once been. The other maids marvelled at the change in their mistresses. Soon after the birth of her first son, Sharmishtha was permitted to build a house of her own and reside near the ashoka grove. Over time, she was careful not to invite Devayani to her house or to let her mistress meet her son as he grew older.

  In time, Yayati had another son through Devayani. Their two sons were named Yadu and Turvasu. Through Sharmishtha he fathered three sons – Druhyu, Anu and Puru. All five boys were magnificent, healthy and possessed of strikingly beautiful features and strong bodies. If placed in a row together, there would have been no mistaking the fact that they were all sons of Yayati, but because of Sharmishtha’s care, that never happened. She took great pains to ensure that Devayani never saw her sons closely once they were grown old enough for the resemblance to be obvious.

  One day, by pure chance, Devayani was travelling with Yayati and they happened to visit the same ashoka grove near Sharmishtha’s house. Devayani insisted on stopping there to rest awhile. While they were sitting there, she saw three handsome young boys playing nearby. Struck by their appearance, and by the similarity in their features to her own two sons, Devayani grew suspicious. She asked Yayati: ‘Who are these boys? Why do they resemble our sons so much?’

  Understandably, Yayati did not answer.

  Devayani went over to the boys and asked them, ‘Who is your father? Where does he live?’

  Innocently, the boys answered, ‘Our father is right here. There he is.’ And they pointed at Yayati. He was trying to dissuade them with gestures and refused to accept that they were his sons, only because he was afraid of Devayani finding out the truth. He denied their claim before Devayani. ‘They are just children, my love. Why do you ask them such questions?’

  Devayani went pale. Her legs lost their strength and she sat down suddenly on the grass. It took her a moment to find her voice and wits again. When she had recovered a little, she asked the question to which she already knew the answer: ‘And your mother? What is her name?’

  They answered cheerfully with the innocence of all children. ‘Sharmishtha!’

  Devayani was stunned. All her fears and doubts and anxieties came rushing back and she realized that she had been made a fool of all this while. Yayati had been sporting with Sharmishtha under her very nose for years, without her realizing. And she in turn had befriend Sharmishtha once more and spent her days in her company, never once suspecting that the boys she was raising were sired by her own husband! Most unbearable of all was the realization that the man she loved and whom she believed loved her exclusively had been sharing his body and his passion with her best friend – who was also her maid! The fact that Sharmishtha’s sons were three to her own two sons, and were handsomer and taller in appearance, thanks to their mother being more attractive than Devayani, was the final insult.

  Devayani flew into one of her old rages. She saw Sharmishtha emerge from the house to call back her sons. At the sight of her betrayer, she began shrieking like a wild thing. ‘How dare you? You are my slave! My servant! How dare you do this to me?’

  Sharmishtha had no intention of backing down before her old nemesis. ‘I am far more than just your slave and servant. I am the true princess and if not for your manipulations, it would have been I whom Yayati married. He would never have looked at you twice if not for me. Even your first meeting was due to me! But since you regard me only as your slave and property then you should know that my being your slave means that I am also your husband’s slave. And that in turns means he is free to enjoy me if he pleases. And it pleases him very greatly, does it not, Yayati, my love?’

  Yayati did not have the courage to reply and take either side in this battle of women
, but Sharmishtha continued, speaking up for both of them. ‘You once had Yayati declared a rishi by your own father, so that he would be equal to you in status and you could be married. You chose him as your husband and insisted that he wed you. I did the same things. If what you did was right in dharma, then how can I be wrong? But while you did everything out of selfish greed, thinking of none other than yourself, I did what I did with mutual love and respect. Yayati may be your husband in name and law, but he is mine in love and affection. He goes to your bed only because he must, because it is his dharma as a husband to please you and his dharma as a king to sire heirs upon you. But to my bed he comes willingly and eagerly each afternoon, filled with desire, passion and love. These three children are the fruits of that love and that is why they blossom more brightly than even your own two sons!’

  Devayani could not bear to hear anymore. Sharmishtha’s words had the ring of truth and for Devayani, this was the culmination of years of self-doubt. She rose from there and went back to her palace. When Yayati followed her there, he found her preparing to leave. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘You have caused me the ultimate insult,’ Devayani said. ‘I cannot live here another day. I am going home to my father.’ She left that very day, returning to Vrishaparva and prostrated herself before her shocked father, weeping miserably as she poured out her tragic plight.

  ‘Adharma has won over dharma,’ she wailed. ‘The inferior have won, the superior have lost. My husband Yayati has betrayed me by fathering three sons on Sharmishta, my maid and slave! In addition, he has deliberately fathered only two sons on me, seeking to elevate his illicit mistress over his own lawful wife.’

  Yayati was alarmed at the thought of how Shukracharya would react to this terrible news. He followed close on Devayani’s heels, arriving immediately after her. He arrived just in time to hear the tail end of Devayani’s impassioned plea to her father.