‘The fastest horseman in all Aryavarta…and your friend Partha here is a man who can shoot in the dark.’
22
VASUSENA CONSIDERED THE BATTLEFIELD, OBVIOUSLY PUZZLED. ‘I don’t understand. What could he have said that would get their soldiers to fight on? They were as good as finished, especially after that fool Partha made his proclamation or vow…whatever it was. Hah! Our soldiers are still laughing at it! But Dharma’s men…? There’s a fire in their eyes and I just can’t understand what could have roused that in them!’
‘I’ve told you, don’t underestimate Govinda Shauri!’ Dron said.
‘He could convince you to slit your own throat, given the chance,’ Kritavarman growled. ‘We all followed him from Mathura, like a bunch of fools, remember? The manipulative cowherd!’
‘Yes, but he didn’t hack down a lone warrior,’ Syoddhan said.
Kritavarman simply shot back, ‘We were just following orders, Your Highness. Indeed, your brother was the one who led the charge!’
Syoddhan let it go, something he would not have done easily in the past. But much had changed. There were larger things in the world to worry about than loose words and childish barbs. Honour had to be more than just these meaningless epithets. Honour had to arise from within one’s own self. His own son had died the previous day. Lakshman had single-handedly faced Abhimanyu and died with honour. The pride made it a little easier to take the pain. He’d so looked forward to the eclipse today, Syoddhan brooded. The event of a lifetime, Lakshman had called it. A life that was too short…for Lakshman and Abhimanyu, both.
Pain blazed like a sharp blade through his heart, and Syoddhan instinctively raised his hand to his chest. His fingers touched intricately-wrought metal. With reluctance and regret, Syoddhan looked down at himself. He was covered in armour unlike any he had seen before, not even on Dron or Asvattama. His earlier trappings, too, had been made of Wright-metal, but where that was a legacy from the days of yore, what he now had on was…indescribable. Fashioned from more pieces than could be counted, the armour felt as flexible and light as a tunic, but was as impenetrable as stone.
‘Why, Acharya?’ Syoddhan had been surprised when Dron had given him the armour that morning. ‘You should be wearing this…’
‘It was never mine to wear, Syoddhan,’ Dron had said. ‘This was made years ago by my ancestors. It was made at the pinnacle of their power, in fires that cannot be rekindled now.’ Syoddhan had then glanced at Asvattama, expecting to see envy there. But all he saw was warm approval. Oblivious to their silent interaction Dron had then said, ‘All hopes rest on your victory, Syoddhan. This is now yours. And I do not exaggerate when I say that this armour is impenetrable. Nothing, not even the best of Wright-metal can cut through it.’
Dron’s words had, for a moment, spurred in Syoddhan an anger he knew to be irrational. He had wanted to shout at the Acharya, ask him why he had not offered the armour earlier; this magnificent impenetrable armour, which could have kept Lakshman alive. But he knew deep in his heart that nothing could have kept his son alive. This was war.
Syoddhan turned his thoughts back to the present. ‘It still isn’t over,’ Dron was saying. ‘The needle is a very strong defensive formation. It will serve our purposes today. Keep Jayadrath alive. As for Govinda Shauri – I don’t think this newfound courage we see in Dharma’s men could have been of his doing. It is quite obvious that Govinda’s heart is not in battle. Either he was the hardest hit by Abhimanyu’s death, or he knows failure is imminent. Partha may or may not kill himself, as promised, but I have no doubt that Dharma will surrender this evening. Why, there’s no way their soldiers will fight on. Even their commanders, allies and kinsmen will piss on their pride. Listen to me, all of you. There’s only one thing that needs to be done today. Jayadrath must be protected from harm. This is our chance. Dharma’s army is like a dying lamp – one last defiant flare and then nothing but smoke. We have hit Govinda where it hurts him the most. He cannot fight back. Jayeti! Victory!’
It did not take long for the whole battlefield to see for themselves what Dron had astutely identified at the start of the day. There was no doubt at all that Govinda had lost his will to fight.
Partha shouted and cajoled, trying to rally his friend. ‘What’s wrong with you, Govinda? After all the things you said… We’ve been fighting since morning and don’t appear to be getting anywhere!’
But Govinda sounded detached. ‘And where is it you want to go, Partha? Do you know where Jayadrath is?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? Jayadrath must in the most impenetrable of places in the formation – the needle’s end.’
‘Which, Partha, is exactly what Syoddhan wants you to believe…’ Govinda said, grunting a little as he made his horses dodge some arrows. ‘The safest place is not the one that is defended well, it is the place your enemy will never look.’
‘And where is that?’
‘Right behind you. The more we face resistance as we try to move ahead, the more convinced I am that Jayadrath is behind us, perhaps within our own army lines.’
‘Then what are you waiting for, Govinda? Take us there…’
‘You’re searching for one man in an army of thousands, Partha. It’s easy for him to hide, and difficult for us to find him.’
‘What would you have me do then?’ Partha demanded, scathing. ‘Admit defeat?’
Irritated, Govinda snapped back, ‘I’d have you shut up and wait! Patience is certainly not your strength, I know, but try and find some. Wait!’
Partha said nothing, but sulked as he continued to fight.
The day went on, the men became more weary, and Govinda continued to maintain his stubborn recalcitrance. Above them, the sun raced across the sky, its effulgence ebbing as the pale white shadow of the moon gained strength. A purple dusk, like an overcast sky, slowly drew over them. Balahak whinnied and snorted.
Govinda indulged himself in a cold smile. ‘It’s time…’ With a sudden fervour, so unlike the lifeless man he had been all morning, he acted. He quickly dismounted and began undoing the straps yoking his horses to the horizontal wooden beam or cross-pole, that linked the steeds together and to the rig itself.
Partha watched, perplexed. The cross-pole mechanism was essential to keep the chariot balanced and the reins untangled, and it ensured that the horses kept their positions. Few deaths were worse than being dragged along for leagues by a horse gone wild, or else one terrified by an unbalanced rig. And here, there were four such creatures, magnificent no doubt, but also with minds of their own. Soon, his concern overcame his trust and he shouted, ‘What in Indra’s name are you doing, Govinda?’
Govinda said nothing, but threw a grateful smile at Pradymna, who jumped off his vehicle and came to help. The younger man appeared to know exactly what Govinda had in mind and the two worked together without a word. They removed the rest of the elaborate mechanism tethering horses and rig together and cast it aside.
‘Armour…’ Govinda instructed.
Pradymna immediately began undoing the protective metal coverings lashed over the horses’ vital organs.
Meanwhile, Govinda ran long lines of twisted leather and rope directly from each horse’s harness straps to metal rings set low on either side of the rig. The heavy harnesses formed a pile on the ground, alongside the cross-pole, the carriage shaft and the horses’ armour.
Then, Govinda did the unthinkable. He took the bridles off from each stallion’s hind legs. Now, there was absolutely no way to slow the horses down or control their actions, other than the often-ineffective reins that did nothing more than guide the horse by pressing gently on its strong chest.
‘I don’t suppose you intend for your horses to ever stop?’ Yuyudhana commented, drawing up nearby. He was still bleeding from a wound he had received earlier from a duel with Bhurisravas, their Yadu kinsman. It was a battle that would have gone badly for Yuyudhana, but for Partha’s timely intervention.
Govinda looked up from the horses on hearing Yuyu
dhana’s voice. ‘Not till Jayadrath’s dead!’ he replied. With that, he jumped back on to his perch and picked up the reins, two in each hand. He was just in time.
23
A GREAT DIN FILLED THE AIR AS BIRDS AND INSECTS CRIED OUT in unnatural unison. The loud cackles and shrill chirps sounded like some hellish fiend screaming in a hateful tongue. Creatures of day fled alongside creatures of night in an impossible bid to escape what was about to happen. Slowly, an angry darkness crept over the sky, sucking in all light on earth, till every bit of it retreated into the huge blood-red orb that was the sun.
Suddenly, all was quiet. Fighting had stopped; the birds and insects had ceased their perpetual murmurs. The sound of horses’ hooves seemed muted, elephants ceased to trumpet and the omnipresent clang of metal on metal that was the sound of battle had faded, leaving an unnatural silence that felt far more ominous than any war imaginable. As a collective gasp rose from the battlefield, Partha looked up and added his own sharp cry as he saw what the others had.
The sun was no longer whole.
‘By Hara, Govinda, do you see this? I’ve heard about it but… but…Rudra save us, no wonder so many were willing to believe that this is some sort of magic!’
‘It is as much magic as Firewright science,’ Govinda grunted in response before making the horses rear and set off at a tremendous speed. Partha hung on, stunned by the reckless haste, clutching on to the sides of the car with one hand, his other arm wrapped around as many weapons as he could find. He wondered if anyone other than Govinda could have kept the unhinged rig from overturning at such speed.
‘Govinda! What…?’
‘Eyes on the field Partha!’ Govinda warned. ‘We need to find him quickly. If Syoddhan’s forces realize what we are doing then we don’t have a chance.’
‘What are we…’
‘Come now, Partha Savyasachin. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to shoot in the dark?’
Partha chuckled as he remembered Panchali’s words. The fastest horseman in all Aryavarta, and the marksman who could shoot in the dark… Finally, he understood. All morning, Govinda had knowingly moved further and further away from Jayadrath. Now, using the cover of darkness, he meant to circle around the battlefield to the area behind them. Syoddhan and Dron would expect them to continue to move forward as they had been doing all day. They would never imagine that Govinda was capable of the swiftness required to reach Jayadrath. And, in the darkness that was quickly enveloping the earth, they would not see that Govinda was doing exactly that. It was perfect timing. The perfect decoy.
The last dregs of light disappeared from the earth, leaving behind a blinding, complete darkness, thicker and different from the blue of night. A sense of unease settled over the battlefield, but Partha welcomed the loss of visibility as he would a familiar friend. The solitude it brought was a balm for his pain, and more. Partha chided himself. He should have known better than to doubt his friend. He thought to apologize, but there was no time for speech. He closed his eyes and reopened them every now and then, adjusting his vision to the increasing darkness. He thought he could make out the shadowy outlines of their own armies on his left, but was not sure. If Govinda was right, Jayadrath was hiding amidst that huge sea of men and animals.
Steadying himself, the archer stood up, gazing into the mask of shadows. His eyes squinted against the wind and a hand rested eagerly on his bow. Without warning, Govinda swerved into the armies on their left. Partha felt a sense of danger grow on him as a ripple of noise stirred among the armies around them. These, he realized, were not their soldiers but Syoddhan’s. Govinda was guiding the horses into the thick of the action.
Straining his ears, Partha heard Syoddhan’s voice in the distance, and again felt their horses change direction. Govinda, he realized, was not just following the voices; he was listening to the orders that the two men called out to their armies. From their instructions, it was clear that Jayadrath was retreating further still, while Syoddhan gathered the rest of his forces into an impenetrable barricade. It was a well-thought-out move, Partha marvelled, and showed great wisdom: Syoddhan had resisted the temptation to rely simply on the strength of his larger force.
Dharma would have done exactly that, Partha seethed. He would have given in to his ‘sense of duty’, which was nothing more than misplaced ambition, just as he had done when he sent Abhimanyu in to break the wheel. For a moment, Partha felt his concentration waver as the pain of his loss turned into anger – against Dharma, against all that Dharma stood for, including the very order of things that had brought them to this war. Then, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he fitted an arrow to his bowstring.
Before he could give in to the impulse, a soft whisper sounded in his ear, ‘Wait!’
Partha complied. Govinda slowed the stallions down to a trot, uncaring of the tumult that surrounded them, and kept still, as though listening intently. At length, Balahak gave a soft whinny. Govinda clucked his tongue, exchanging words with his horse in a language unique to the two. He turned to Partha. ‘The wind is changing. There is a new smell in the air… Any time now. Close your eyes. Be ready.’
‘But…’
‘Do it! We have just one chance, my friend. Once the eclipse breaks, it won’t take them long to know that we are here. Now, close your eyes!’
Partha obeyed, just in time.
Around him, thousands cried out in fear and awe as a dazzling beam of light shot through the dark sky, like Indra’s own thunderbolt.
Behind closed eyelids, Partha could sense the jewel-like flash in the sky. He longed to open his eyes, to gaze upon this wonderous sight even if it meant he would not see another thing again for as long as he lived. He dismissed the thought with long-inculcated discipline. I am an archer. I am one with my arrow. It does not matter who colours the sky I fly in.
He thought of what it was to shoot in the dark, to find meaning in the blackness just as others found meaning in colour and shape. Look inwards. Then you will see that darkness and light are the same. Partha drew in a deep, controlled breath and centred himself, honing his being into an instrument of action.
‘Now!’ Govinda called out.
Partha opened his eyes to find the sky infused with a silver glow, the first suggestion of the reappearance of light. Around them men stared at the sun, at the thin crescent of brilliance that emerged from the clutches of a dark moon. But Partha’s eyes sought and saw one target and one alone. Jayadrath.
‘I see him. Go. Straight ahead, go!’ he commanded Govinda, who complied with a flick of the reins that urged their horses ahead.
Shaibya reared and neighed, rallying his equine brethren into a charge, trading stealth for speed as the darkness began to fade. Partha did not care. He knew nothing could stop them now.
A shout went up from the enemy’s men. Syoddhan yelled orders with a fury. He moved to place himself squarely in Partha’s way. With a snarl of expectation, Partha aimed an arrow at Syoddhan’s heart, and then two more. All three shafts broke against the golden-white armour and fell, harmless, to the ground.
‘How…?’ Partha was stunned.
‘By Agni, he’s had the armour all along!’ Govinda exclaimed.
‘What?’ Partha was visibly confused.
‘Dron,’ Govinda explained. ‘He must have given Syoddhan this armour. It is supposed to be near-impenetrable, for it was made at the very beginning by the first of those who worked Wright-metal. If only we knew the secret of how it was wrought to such flexibility… What I would give to get a chance to see it up close, to see how it has been crafted to work…’
‘You can pry it off Syoddhan’s body once he’s dead,’ Partha declared, as he let off another flurry of arrows at the enemy. This time he aimed wide, trying to find some weak point in Syoddhan’s armour that he could get through. He followed up with a shaft to Syoddhan’s face, but all the other man did was to turn and let the arrow break on the side of his helmet, before raising his own bow to retaliate.
Partha hesitated, knowing well how difficult it would have been for Govinda to contemplate such advice. But there was no choice. He did not argue, nor did he comment when Govinda looked away. Three more well-aimed arrows and the task was done. Govinda winced as a screeching neigh filled the air, the terrified voice of a horse in the throes of death. Swearing under his breath, Partha sent another arrow in the direction of the fallen steed, putting an end to the animal’s misery.
For a while Syoddhan remained on his rig, trying to use the elevation to counter Partha’s renewed attack, but the grounded vehicle was more of a risk than an advantage. He leapt off the rig, preparing himself for the worst.
‘For Dharma,’ Partha said, and raised his bow. He drew back the string, his fingers caressing the feathered tail of a sharp arrow, relishing what he believed would be the final moment of the war. He heard the twang of a bow, but started as he felt the sharp whip-sting of his string against his cheek and saw his arrow fall at his own feet. It took him a short while to realize that the bowstring had not snapped of its own accord; rather, it had been cut with immaculate precision.
A banner with the sign of a lion’s tail streamed in the wind, filling Syoddhan with relief, even as it informed Govinda and Partha of the arrival of a new attacker.
‘Not again!’ Govinda muttered as he turned their horses to face Asvattama. He need not have feared, at least not for his horses, for Asvattama was no less adept at finding his mark in the dark, and his target was clear. His next shaft sped straight at Govinda. Govinda dodged quickly, but the arrow still buried itself in his arm. He grit his teeth against the pain and held on to the reins, an effort that caused the wound to bleed profusely.
‘Govinda!’ Partha cried out. Turning his concern to rage, he quickly fixed a new string on to his bow and met Asvattama’s attack.
‘No!’ Govinda shouted. ‘Ignore him! Ignore him, Partha!’
The Aryavarta Chronicles Book 03: Kurukshetra Page 34