She was too beautiful to permit any mortal man to come close, let alone touch.
This was no mere mortal woman. This was a goddess incarnated upon earth. There was no question about it now. Earlier, he had not seen her with such clarity or vision. Somehow, his obsession hatred of Krishna had caused him to overlook this unspeakable gift of perfection set upon the mortal realm.
Now, his eyes were opened, the webs removed. He could see her for what she truly was: a woman too perfect for any mortal man to deserve. Only a god could truly appreciate and exalt such celestial excellence.
And what a god could possess, so could an asura.
Not just any asura--he would not brook anyone coming before her, now that he had seen her in all her heavenly glory.
Only himself, Jarasandha.
How could he ever have thought to permit that fool Sisupala to possess this divine creature?
She deserved no lesser being than the God Emperor himself. Only he would do for her. They would make the perfect pairing of all Creation.
Jarasandha. And Rukmini.
Yes. That was how it must be, would be.
Jarasandha had decided.
11
Rukmini glanced around in perplexity at the wan, drawn faces of the kings and chiefs gathered at the swayamvara. They stood, each and every one of them, exactly where they had risen from their seats, transfixed like men hypnotized by some heavenly phenomenon. Their eyes were glazed, their mouths slack, their hands hanging limply by their sides, their bodies swaying from side to side like men struck on the heads in the moment before their bodies recieved the message that their brains had been struck unconscious. Even Jarasandha, the frightful man she loathed and feared most of all, just stood in one spot, staring.
The odd thing was though they all stared at her, their eyes turned to follow her, their chins jerking, necks craning, bodies twisting to keep sight of her, they seemed unable to do anything else but look. It was as if their bodies were frozen, fixated in some muscular rigor that prevented them from performing any other action.
“What is wrong with them?” she asked her companion as they moved across the field. “Why do they all stare that way at me without moving or speaking?”
Her companion smiled. “Such is the shakti of Devamaya.”
She looked at him. Krishna grinned at her and winked once. “The effect will not last long. We must hurry before they begin to recover and realize what is transpiring. The miasma only works when you are clearly visible. The instant they lose sight of your face, the effect begins to wear off. Still, they will be groggy awhile, so that should give us enough time to make our escape.”
After the ritual in the Devi’s temple was complete and she had stepped out of the inner sanctum, she had been shocked when she saw that the maid who offered her the royal signet was none other than Krishna himself, clad in a woman’s garb. But then her heart had filled with joy for it was clear then that the Devi had answered her prayers. “I have come to steal you away from yourself,” he said to her quietly. “Just continue to walk with me and say or do nothing to arouse suspicion.”
She had done so and nobody, not even the women thronging her, had even realized that there was a man among them. Then again, was Krishna merely a man? Surely not.
Now, they were in the middle of the swayamvara field. Various items had been laid out for contests of skill, archery, strength, weaponry and the like. Krishna glanced back before stopping in an open area. “Here. We wait here a moment.”
She took the opportunity to glance at the men around them. They were all staring at her blankly, afflicted by the same miasma, standing stock still, staring mutely, slack-jawed and glaze-eyed. They did not even lift a finger or raise a foot to step towards them although by now, Krishna had dropped the shawl that had covered his head and it was quite obvious that he was a man and not a lady companion. Still, they just stood and stared, enraptured, at her face. At more than her face, of course, but it was her face that held them and hypnotized them, she saw. What had Krishna said? Devamaya? Of course. It came to her as a faint memory. Deva Maya, the Illusion of Gods. A phenomenon caused by mortal beings looking upon a divine aspect.
The mortal mind was not designed to see gods. The closest they could manage was to perceive that aspect of godhead most like themselves: the eternal mistake that mortals made, assuming that they were made in god’s image. In fact, they were only made to resemble one specific form of a god’s image, not the complex and humanly incomprehensible whole. DevaMaya occurred when mortals actually had a glimpse of that incomprehensible complexity. She knew that the shock could drive all memory and functionality from a mortal mind forever, rendering the person senseless and witless.
In this case, the men looking at her had all seen this particular mortal aspect of her’s before, which perhaps accounted for the fact that they were not driven senseless permanently. From the looks of them, they seemed as if they might recover and regain their wits. Or she hoped so. Suddenly she realized that her father and brothers were present here too and undoubtedly stricken alongwith every other man.
“They will recover, will they not?” she asked suddenly, clutching Krishna’s arm.
He grinned. “Completely, and within moments. That is why it is only affecting the men, not the women. This is the after effect of the Devi’s protection give to you during the ceremony in the temple.”
She was puzzled. “But I did not even know about it, how then did the Devi know to grant me this protection at this time?”
“I asked her for it,” he said.
Then a golden sky chariot descended vertically in a rush, landing as softly as a feather on the ground before them. The instant it was on the ground, Krishna took her aboard and they looked back at the field filled with captivated suitors.
“Take a last look at your homeland, Princess of Vidarbha,” he said gently. “You may never see her again in this lifetime.”
She sighed. “After marriage, every wife goes to her husband’s home. My homeland is where you are, Krishna.”
Krishna leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
The Pushpak rose as suddenly as it had landed, carrying them away.
12
Jarasandha bellowed with rage. He was the first to break free of the miasma of the DevaMaya. He shook his limbs, raging with fury as he realized how he had been duped. It did not matter that every other man present had been deluded by the same illusion. For Jarasandha, only one person mattered: Jarasandha himself.
He could not brook being deceived by his own mind and perception.
DevaMaya depended on the looker being taken unawares and being transfixed by the shock of viewing an actual god in person. But in this case, he had known that Rukmini was no mere mortal. He should have been able to resist her allure and miasma. The fact that he had been as captivated as the other mortal fools around him meant that he had allowed his masculinity to rule his asura strength. He had reacted as a man in short! Not just a mortal man, just a male.
Now, he stormed out onto the field, shaking his fist up at the sky where the pushpak was only a wink of gold against the azure blue. Around him, kings and chiefs were shaking their heads and staggering like drunken men trying to shrug off the night’s excesses. Many clutched their heads, moaned and fell to their knees, unable to stomach what they had experienced. Others were still overcome by the overwhelming emotions that had blinded them and staggered away, unable to see or hear anything in the real world. But by and large, the majority were recovering and struggling to shake off the after effects.
Jarasandha’s resounding tenor shout brought every head up and made every pair of eyes turn in his direction.
“Kings of Vidarbha!” he shouted, his mid-tone voice an advantage because though it lack bass, it carried more clearly than any deep voice would have. “Aho to you all! Shame upon all the men in your kingdom. I have eunuchs in my service who are more manly than you all! Even though you have arms and bodies muscular with strength, bows an
d arrows and swords and maces aplenty, yet you permitted the Princess of your realm to be carried away by a single unarmed man looking like a girl!”
His shouts cut through the confusion and after effects of the DevaMaya, helping focus the confused gathering’s attention upon something that made sense and distracted them from the potential madness of dwelling too long on the contemplation of the vision they had all experienced. Men began to stand straight and stare at him, listening angrily.
“Krishna of Dwarka has stolen our prize! The Princess was to be won in a fair contest by the best man here today. We all came prepared to prove ourselves and wrest her hand fairly according to dharma by showing our prowess at arms, our skill, our wits, or in any way she chose. Yet she was not given the opportunity to view our display. Nor were we given an opportunity to demonstrate our capabilities. Instead, a man used subterfuge and illusion to delude us all and steal the Princess away. This is unacceptable!”
Many heads nodded in response. Clenched fists greeted the words in agreement. More men had recovered now and were snarling as the full import of what had happened came home to their addled brains.
“He has taken her away in his flying chariot,” said one king, pointing up. “I saw them climb aboard and leave! How are we to follow a flying chariot now?”
Jarasandha lashed out with his tongue: the twin tips shot out a full one score yards to where the man stood, weaving around other men’s heads, bodies, necks and shoulders to strike the speaker’s eyes hard enough that both were punctured instantly and exploded in twin splashes that ran down the unfortunate king’s face.
He screamed briefly then collapsed.
Nobody glanced at him again. They were more interested in what Jarasandha had to say.
Men glanced fearfully as the yards-long tongue retracted into Jarasandha’s mouth.
He tasted the moisture on the tongue tips before speaking again:
“Shall we just stand around here and feel sorry for ourselves now that he has gone? He may have a flying chariot but we have armies. I have watchers everywhere around the town for yojanas in every direction. The DevaMaya will not work again. If we ride after them, my spasas will tells us which way to go to follow him. Sooner or later, even a flying chariot must land on ground. Even if he flies back all the way to Dwarka, he cannot elude my network of spasas. I promise you we will be informed which way he goes and where he lands eventually. But we must ride at once, in full force, and ride with full resolve to track down and slay Krishna, and bring home the pride and honor of Vidarbha.”
Almost every hairy arm shot up at once. “AYE!” came the resounding response. “RIDE!”
And they ran towards their chariots, horses and other means of travel.
Rukmi and his associates came up to Jarasandha. Viduratha and Shalva seemed almost wholly recovered and Dantavakra was only holding his chest in dismay but Paundraka seemed confused and sluggish. “My Lord, what do you wish us to do?”
Jarasandha addressed Rukmi: “Sound the full alert. Inform your armies and your countrymen that the Vidarbha nation and its allies are at war with the Yadavas now. Magadha fights beside you as do her allies. I speak for King Viduratha, Shalva, Paundraka and Dantavakra as well.”
When Rukmi hesitated, Jarasandha asked sharply, “Do you object to our assisting you, Prince Rukmi?”
Rukmi’s eyes cut this way then that as his crooked upper tooth showed itself beneath his lip. “Of course not, great one. But is a declaration of war necessary right at once? After all, it was the Princess of our house who was stolen, not a matter of the entire nation’s daughters.”
Jarasandha snarled, showing his split tongue as he did so: “Yatha raja tatha praja. As does the king, so do the people. If you will not fight for the honor of your own sister, then every man everywhere will say that the daughters and wives and sisters of Vidarbha are easy prey and can be picked up and taken at will. Is that what you desire?”
Rukmi’s eyes stopped shifting and focussed on Jarasandha. “No! Never! WE RIDE NOW!” he yelled.
Jarasandha moved toward his own chariot. Krishna had tricked him by outmaneuvering his well-laid plan. But he would out-maneuver him again. Now, all the kings and warriors fighting Krishna would not only do so out of the usual misplaced heroic impulse but because it truly mattered. If Krishna would not fight him in Kundini, then he would follow Krishna to Dwarka and find him there.
13
RUKMINI looked at her Lord adoringly as the chariot sped through wisps of clouds high above the earth. “I know why you did not fight your enemies or provoke a clash,” she said. “You did so in order to spare my home town and my family.”
Krishna smiled at her. “My heart is an open scroll to you, my love. Yes, though they are but your mortal family for this lifetime, I could never cause pain or suffering to any whom you care about. I too am linked intimately in my own life to many mortals and their welfare is always my primary concern.”
Rukmini clasped his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I thank you for that consideration.”
Krishna sighed. “Do not thank me too soon, Rukmini. I fear that your loved ones may not show me the same consideration.”
She frowned. Before she could ask him what he meant, Krishna turned away to speak to the charioteer. At once Rukmini sensed that they were descending again.
Krishna took her shoulders in his hands. “My beloved. Soon this will all be over and we shall be able to live the rest of our mortal lives in Dwarka in peace. But for now, I must fulfill my dharma as a kshatriya in this form.”
She glanced over the rim of the chariot well and saw that they were descending earthwards in a region just north of Kundini, at the open plains near the edge of the Dandava-van. She felt her heart leap. “Why are you descending? Why are we not simply flying back to Dwarka? What do you mean to do, Krishna?”
Krishna continued to hold her, gazing directly into her eyes. His raven-black eyes bored into her consciousness.
This game must be played out, my Beloved. Jarasandha and his spasas will be seeking this chariot out now. I cannot simply lead them back to Dwarka and risk them following and besieging the city. However invulnerable it may be, all fortresses can be taken eventually. I do not wish to start our life together by gifting the people of Dwarka a generation of siege of war. I built Dwarka to free them from violence and warcraft forever. And as a new wife, how would you feel if you brought home armies of enemy forces determined to destroy you and your husband’s people?
She knew he was right. Yet she could not accept it. But my brothers. My father. If you wage war against them, you will surely kill everyone. I cannot be responsible for having caused their death, Krishna! Whatever they may be, they are still my brothers and father. I cannot start my new life with you by walking over their corpses.
Krishna nodded. I understand this. That is why I drew them outside the city, where we can fight safely. I give you my word, Rukmini. None who love you or whom you love will be harmed. I swear this.
She felt greatly relieved on hearing his words. Because she believed him. In that case, I cannot object any further. If you feel this confrontation is necessary, then go ahead. But take care, my love. Remember that you too are one of those I love, the one I love the most in fact.
He smiled at her. And the one who loves you the most as well. Fear not, beloved. Violence is for a moment. Love is forever. Daruka shall steer the chariot and keep you safe until the conflict is over. Whatever happens, stay in the chariot, I beseech you. I shall return to you soon.
And so saying, he turned and dropped from the ledge of the chariot, leaping the final three or four hundred yards to the ground. She looked over the well’s rim to see him land in a puff of dust below, then stand and wait, a solitary figure between the outlying plains of Kundina on one side, and the great dark dense mass of the Dandaka-van on the other side.
KRISHNA CORIOLIS#6: Fortress of Dwarka Page 23