The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3

by Krishna Udayasankar

  It was a sign of how weary everyone was that no one thought to argue or protest. The gathering dispersed.

  ‘Come on,’ Yuyudhana gave Govinda a rough push, leading him out of the Command Tent. He did not speak again till the two of them had entered Govinda’s lodgings, when he hissed, ‘Is she really worth it, Govinda? Daruka,’ he then called out to Govinda’s captain. ‘Come, serve your Commander, who returns from grovelling at his Emperor’s feet… Dhik! Shame on you, Govinda!’

  Govinda said, ‘Neither Dharma nor his feet determine my self-esteem. I’m one amongst many who have bowed to him for no reason. It has never bothered you all these years! Our rulers make us just one promise, and we surrender to them our lives, our liberty and dignity, all that is ours simply under the assurance of being treated with justice. But we don’t hold them to that promise, instead, we look the other way for as long as we can. Today you’re angry because I was slighted. Where was this anger all these years, Yuyudhana? For too long now divinity and destiny have legitimized what reason and compassion would not. An individual for a family, a family for the kingdom, a kingdom for an empire… And now – an empire for humanity. Of what consequence, then, is Govinda Shauri or the honour you think he’s lost at Dharma’s feet?’

  Yuyudhana was unmoved. ‘You know what, Govinda. It’s true. I am a prince. I was born a prince and will die one. Unlike you, I don’t have the stomach for all this equality prattle. Like it or not, we are Arya. Behave like one! Muhira!’

  He walked around ranting, kicking at the odd object that lay in his way. ‘All this for a woman…’ he muttered. ‘The Emperor we bleed for lies in her arms while you play the martyr… Hu!’

  ‘Come now…’ Govinda began, when a voice interrupted.

  ‘He’s right, you know.’ Panchali walked into the tent, flashing an understanding glance at Yuyudhana. ‘I’ve told you this before, Govinda. I’m not worth it.’

  ‘Let me be the judge of that, Panchali.’

  ‘It’s too great a debt to bear.’

  ‘It is I who is in your debt.’ Govinda took her hands in his. ‘I failed you when you needed me the most. I wasn’t there when Dharma wagered you. I wasn’t there to stop him, to stop Dussasan and Vasusena. Sometimes, I think I’ve failed you from the very first day I saw you…failed to protect what you’ve stood for.’

  ‘And what day was that, Govinda?’ Panchali said, her eyes holding a message that she did not put into words. She continued, ‘You did what you knew was right. We both know there are more important things out there than you and I. And that has been the compelling force for all your actions. But what has happened to you now? Where is that dispassionate Govinda?’

  ‘He died. You see, one day he found something that moved him to the core of his being… He died and was reborn, as he will a million times, in every age through all of Time.’

  Panchali’s tone turned playful as she turned to Yuyudhana and asked, ‘How many women has he already used that line on? You should teach him some new ones…’

  Unable to help himself, Yuyudhana grinned.

  Shrugging, Panchali continued, ‘I don’t know what else to say, Govinda. I don’t know how else to convince you…You believe that humanity thrives on challenge and conflict, that we aren’t limited by our desires but by our abilities. Our hearts and minds are capable of dreaming of the gods themselves, though we may not walk among them… It’s a gift that you have. You’re able to look at people and see a living creature that changes and grows, not a mindless mob. You see humanity, not a teeming mass; you see oneness in us, the greater being that we are collectively. To this being millennia may be just moments, and yet you…’ She smiled, a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment, and said, ‘But I have nothing to give you in return, Govinda. Just as Aryavarta has nothing to give you in return. Years from now, what will be said about Govinda Shauri? You fight for the thankless… it is futile.’

  Govinda’s eyes held contentment. ‘Aryavarta will give me exactly what you already have, Panchali. Of that I have no doubt. Now, for once, I agree with Dharma. We all ought to get some sleep…’

  ‘And Partha?’ Yuyudhana asked.

  Govinda said, ‘Leave him to me.’

  31

  FOR A MOMENT, SYODDHAN THOUGHT HE WAS IN HIS ROOMS AT the palace of Hastina, on the bed he had shared for decades with his beloved wife. Indeed, he smiled, thinking that the hazy figure he saw through half-open eyes was the loving face he had longed to look upon since the war had begun seventeen days ago.

  ‘Sanjaya…’ Syoddhan fell back on to his bed with disappointment as the blurred form turned into a recognizable figure, but then sat up again as he caught the smell of imminent dawn on the night air. There was much to be done before the muster of their men, including deciding on their battle plans for their day.

  ‘Your Highness…’ Sanjaya bowed. ‘Your father sends you his blessings.’

  ‘Never mind my father. What brings you here?’ Syoddhan got out of his bed and moved around his tent with efficiency. An attendant brought him rose-fragranced water for his ablutions before helping him into his war attire.

  ‘Devala has returned. He brings a visitor. Vasusena waits for you in the Command Tent,’ Sanjaya reported.

  ‘And you came all the way from Hastina to tell me this?’

  Sanjaya did not answer, but looked on with expressionless comity.

  Syoddhan splashed water on to his face, dispelling the last traces of sleep, before saying. ‘Tell him I will be there shortly. As I suppose, you will too?’

  ‘If that is what you wish.’

  Syoddhan paused, tempted to say what it was he wished for right then in the depth of his heart – that Sanjaya were dead, that they were all dead, and that this endless nightmare was over. But the moment passed. ‘Go…’ Syoddhan ordered. ‘You too,’ he added, turning to the attendant.

  Alone, Syoddhan stared at the rose petals in the water, taking in their fragrance, their fragile beauty – qualities incongruous with the barren, bloodsoaked land of Kuru’s Fields. Then he raised his head and let the smell of war choke his senses.

  ‘Well, Vasusena?’ Syoddhan began without prelude as he walked into the Command Tent. He was too tired for formality or chatter. Victory was within their reach, as Vasusena had promised, but Syoddhan could not ignore the price they had paid for it. Of the ninety-nine brothers who had stood by his side, only Dussasan and two others remained alive. Syoddhan knew he trod on dangerous ground, that any time now Dussasan would lose the faith he had left in his brother, or worse, gain enough faith in himself to do the unthinkable. That, however, was a war he would wage in its own time. For now Syoddhan relied on Asvattama and his personal guard to keep him safe, and found the will to go on, day after day, by becoming one with the conflict at hand. Of course, he drew consolation from the fact that, as far as wars went, Dharma had suffered worse losses than he had.

  With a weary sigh, Syoddhan began strapping on the armour that Dron had given him less than a week ago, wondering if truly such few days had passed. It felt like a lifetime, a lifetime in which emotion had risen and ebbed, reason had stood paramount at times and at others been lost in darkness. And now Devala Asita, in whom he and the others had placed their confidence, had returned.

  ‘Well…?’ he repeated, looking up.

  ‘I’ve verified it with Asvattama here,’ Vasusena replied, gesturing to the tall warrior who stood leaning gracefully against a tentpole.

  ‘And what do you think?’

  Asvattama turned over the signet ring that he held. It was shaped as a coiled snake with seven hoods, each one set with coloured jewels for fiery eyes. ‘It’s the signet ring of the Naga kings, no doubt. This is their royal crest.’

  Syoddhan took the ring from Asvattama and studied it. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘let’s meet this messenger Devala has brought back.’

  Sanjaya admitted the visitor into the tent along with a tired and travel-weary Devala. The visitor was a tall man with a thick, s
craggly beard, dressed in the robes and beads of an ascetic. Dirty, matted hair fell over his eyes, obscuring his face. Syoddhan took in the obvious scars on the man’s hands and flashed a look at his uncovered feet. The faint but perceptible mark left by tough hide sandals on the little toe was enough to show that this was simply a disguise. ‘You bring a message from King Takshaka?’ he asked.

  The man nodded in response.

  ‘You’re amongst friends now,’ Syoddhan said as he walked over and smiled his reassurance. He could tell by the way the man held his gaze that he was no petty spy or hired scout. This was a warrior, possibly one of the Naga princes or nobles. ‘Won’t you trust us and reveal your identity?’

  ‘Haven’t you guessed it already?’

  Even as the gathered warriors tried to place the voice, the man reached into his matted hair to undo the thin string that held the scraggly false beard in place over a neatly maintained one. Vasusena gasped audibly, while Asvattama muttered under his breath.

  Syoddhan, however, was less astonished. ‘King Takshaka,’ he formally greeted the man. ‘I regret that our meeting had to take place this way and under these circumstances. I’m ill-placed to welcome you as you deserve.’

  The Naga king inclined his head in greeting. He made his apologies for the ruse, but the surprise he had caused most of them was still apparent. Syoddhan spoke casually, dissolving the tension. ‘Come, sit down,’ he said, leading Takshaka over to a seat of honour on his right. ‘Well, then…’

  ‘My son Brihadbala has already died for you,’ Takshaka began. ‘With him have died many of our people – the Naga and Nishada tribes of the various forests.’

  Syoddhan nodded.

  Takshaka shifted. ‘I am all that is left. And when Devala came to me, when he found me despite my attempts to retreat from all Aryavarta with nothing but my sorrow for company…well, I realized I had once last chance to redeem my honour and the honour of my ancestors. I am here to offer you my service.’

  ‘Why?’ Syoddhan was gentle.

  ‘He killed my son,’ Takshaka said, his voice tremulous. ‘He killed Aswasena. I don’t care what justifications he gives – he killed my son. That is why I am here.’

  ‘You wish to avenge your son’s death? You wish to kill Govinda Shauri?’ Syoddhan was taken aback. ‘There is a war going on out there, and all you care about is the death of one man? Is that why you sent Brihadbala to fight for us? Is your anger worth the lives of so many?’

  ‘Did you have a better reason? What is it that you sacrifice the lives of thousands for?’ Takshaka retorted. His eyes flashed with anger, but the moment passed. ‘Syoddhan, I’m an old man and you, and your friends here, are all young enough to be my sons. I shall presume on the privilege of age to speak from the heart.’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘You are no better than Govinda Shauri. Your grandfather and father left us to rot inside Kandava, not caring whether we perished in floods or died of disease. You kept us out of sight, though we lived within your lands – it was more expedient for you to ignore us than claim us as subjects for we had little to offer you. When war came to you, however, you did not hesitate to reach out to us.’

  Asvattama bristled. ‘And what has changed since? First you sent us Brihadbala and your men. Now you have graced us with your presence. How have we suddenly redeemed ourselves in your eyes?’

  ‘Ah, Acharya. You and your kinsmen have a special place in our hearts. The story of our families goes back years.’

  ‘Then you are here for the sake of old friendships?’

  ‘Yes and no.’ Clearing his throat, Takshaka continued. ‘Nearly forty years ago, on a stormy monsoon night, my father ordered me and my fellow soldiers to escort a man he wouldn’t name on a journey from Mathura to a village across the river. I met that man just outside the gates of Mathura’s palace. He held a bundle in his arms. I did not ask what was inside; nor did he offer to tell me. It struck me of no consequence until we reached the banks of the river. Kans, King of Mathura, had an entire division of his men waiting to attack us…’

  Vasusena drew in a sharp breath, making Takshaka smile. He said, ‘Yes, you can guess what that little bundle was now, can’t you…? I first set eyes on Govinda Shauri when he was but a newborn, hardly muhurttas old. I defended him with the lives of my men that night, and I swore never to reveal who he was as long as Kans lived. I tell you this, not to show what he owes me but to make you see what I’ve been driven to. You see, we found the courage to save Govinda Shauri against those odds because we believed that he could defy tyranny. When he killed Kans, we hailed him as our redeemer. It took me years to see that Govinda Shauri does not act for anything but his self-interest. The same man who set us free to claim his legacy as Prince of Mathura came to barter, cajole and convince us to forsake our home, our freedom and self-respect, in order to install Dharma Yudhisthir on the throne. But neither of these betrayals compares to the one that drives my need for vengeance. It’s not just my son I seek to avenge, but a dear friend, one who made it possible for us to survive all those years in Kandava… Now do you see, Acharya?’

  Asvattama nodded. Syoddhan did not speak, but saw Sanjaya open and close his mouth as though he had thought to say something but changed his mind.

  Tears of anger brimmed in Takshaka’s red eyes. ‘Govinda Shauri, the destroyer of the evil Firewrights. Govinda betrayed and abandoned the Wrights. Hah! Agniveshya Angirasa was my friend,’ he confessed, through clenched teeth. ‘He asked for my help. It’s true that for many years, Agniveshya stayed in Kandava and that we learnt much from him. The Wrights have paid for trusting that bastard Govinda; they’ve paid with their lives! In the name of the friendship I owe them, I swear by the thousand heads of the great snake Sesha, I offer you my complete loyalty, Syoddhan. Whatever we have left from the Wrights, I shall gladly share with you. Use it to bring down the man who brought them down.’

  ‘Hu!’ Vasusena snorted in contempt. Malice and derision gleamed in his eyes. ‘And what can you do for us now? You bring us no men – we know that you have come alone. You have nothing to offer us… He slowly added, as Takshaka glared at him, ‘Your Highness…’

  Takshaka said, ‘There is a weapon…’ He paused purposefully as everyone turned to him with renewed interest. ‘Agniveshya Angirasa created it by our flesh and blood, which is why he called it the Nagaastra. It is yours, with the blessings of Indra himself.’

  ‘And you know how to make it?’ Asvattama asked. His expression remained neutral but his eyes blazed with an eagerness that bordered on lust.

  ‘No, I don’t know how it’s made. But I still have some of what was once made…to share with you.’

  ‘And the antidote? No Wright would have made a poison without making its antidote!’

  In response, Takshaka took a vial out of his waistband and let it drop. The vial shattered on the ground, its contents spraying in all directions. Sanjaya let out a muted yell, Dussasan leapt back, and Vasusena flinched. Syoddhan and Asvattama alone stood as they were, uncaring of the splatters they felt on their skin and robes. ‘There,’ Takshaka said. ‘The only antidote is now lost. There is no counter to the poison, nor is there any other way of preventing its effects.’

  ‘You are sure that no more exists – of the toxin or the antidote?’ Asvattama asked.

  Devala interjected, ‘What is it, Your Highness? Are you jealous that after all these years of your searching, of torturing every Wright you could lay your hands on, it is I who have brought us the Nagaastra and not you?’

  ‘On the contrary, Devala. If you remember, you were busy looking for snake-venom. It was I who pointed you in Takshaka’s direction.’

  Takshaka said, ‘Then you answer your own question, Acharya. If you have looked and the poison or its antidote was not found, surely there is none left.’ He turned to Vasusena. ‘There is enough poison here to turn a simple arrow into an infallible astra. All we need is an unerring marksman. Kill Partha. None of them will fight on after tha
t. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether to take Dharma dead or alive. Either way, victory is yours.’

  Asvattama frowned but said nothing more.

  Vasusena did not notice. Nevertheless, he protested, ‘It’s not that easy… You forget who drives Partha’s chariot-rig… I need someone as skilled with horses as Govinda.’

  ‘King Shalya of Madra will do it,’ Syoddhan said. ‘Like his nephews Nakul and Sadev, Shalya has an uncanny knack for dealing with animals. The people of Madra are excellent horsemasters, their king not the least of them.’

  ‘Shalya? But…’

  ‘He gave me his word of honour as an Arya to fight for us, heart and soul. He has, without doubt, kept his word. I trust him completely. Shalya will be your charioteer today.’

  Vasusena punched his fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘Now you begin to make sense. Well then! What are we waiting for? Let us crush them! Today, we shall end this war.’

  He strode out of the tent, his left arm around Dussasan’s shoulder, in conversation with Takshaka on his right. Syoddhan watched them leave and then followed, signalling to Asvattama to join him.

  ‘You need a bath,’ Sanjaya began turning to his sole companion in the tent now. He did nothing to hide the amusement he felt at Devala’s condition. ‘And a shave. Two, actually…’ he said, referring not only to the stubble that covered Devala’s chin but also his usually smooth pate.

  ‘I need news. I need good news,’ Devala growled. ‘I need to know what is going on. I had to bite my tongue every time one of those idiots spoke for fear of saying that which I ought not to say.’

  ‘Ah yes, I wondered why you were so quiet. As for news: Well, the sun will rise today on the seventeenth day of battle and…’

  Devala interrupted, ‘I can see for myself how the battle goes, Sanjaya, but I need to know if our plan is still in place.’

  ‘What plan do you mean, Devala? The one you, Suka and I crafted? Or the one you and I have held close to our hearts from long before that Varuni and his ambitions were known to us?’