by Unknown
"Bhima, what are you doing here?" It was an adult's voice. Suyodhana peeped out carefully. Who was it? The setting sun emblazoned everything behind the doorframe in red and gold and this person stood like an unmoving black shadow.
Bhima's head turned in surprise at this interference. Suyodhana saw anger flash across his cousin's face.
"Why are you always after me? I will tell my mother." Though Bhima had raised his voice, there was some doubt in it. Suyodhana began creeping out from his hiding place.
"I saw you chasing the little Prince and I know you mean mischief. So I came after you."
"But we were just playing..."
"I do not call that playing."
"Uncle Vidhura, what are you doing here? You know these places are forbidden to people like you." Bhima had regained his confidence and decided that attack was his best defence. He knew well how much that underhanded jibe would hurt his uncle.
Suyodhana saw his uncle's shoulders stoop. 'Should I go back under the bed?' he wondered.
Vidhura looked around, as if to ascertain no one was near and then moved closer to Bhima, who took a few steps back. "Let us decide this before Lord Bhishma."
"I'm sorry Uncle, really sorry! I will go away." Bhima threw a hate-filled glance towards Suyodhana and walked out of the room with an elaborate show of avoiding any bodily contact with Vidhura.
Suyodhana felt a rush of gratitude towards his uncle. He ran forward and hugged the tall, dark figure. For a moment, Vidhura was taken aback. Then he pushed his nephew away gently. Suyodhana looked at his uncle, hurt showing on his young face.
"Prince Suyodhana, you know you should not do that. You cannot touch me, especially after you have already had your bath and should be getting ready for evening prayers."
"But you are my Uncle!" cried the young Prince. He wanted to add that his uncle had just saved him from his worst enemy.
When Vidhura spoke, the little boy could feel the pain that lay hidden within his simple words. "Nevertheless, you should not, my boy." The dark and handsome man stood gazing into the dusk.
"But why not?"
"Enough! I should not be here." Vidhura began to walk away.
Suyodhana ran after his uncle and pulled at his arm. Vidhura hastily pulled away.
"But tell me why."
"You will not understand now, Suyodhana, but when you are older, you will. Now let me go." Vidhura turned and walked quickly down the long corridor.
Suyodhana watched his uncle go, sadness and confusion clamouring in his mind and heart. The sun had set and darkness had spread its mantle over Hastinapura. The boy stood there, his body trembling with emotion. As he turned to go back to his father's room, he yearned to grow up quickly so he could find answers to the questions that troubled his mind and which all the elders evaded. Then he remembered the pain in his uncle's eyes. Perhaps being grown up was not such a good thing after all.
***
Suyodhana felt a desperate need to talk to his Uncle Shakuni about Bhima. Perhaps he was in the sabha. How Suyodhana hated his cousins! Uncle Pandu had been dead six months now and his cousins were still receiving condolences and sympathy on their bereavement. That only made them more obnoxious. They had added privileges now, with their mother wielding more power than ever before. Uncle Pandu's second wife, Aunt Madri, had committed sati on his pyre and Aunt Kunti had then arrived at the palace, bringing Aunt Madri's twin boys along with her own three sons.
Suyodhana did not relish the thought of going to the sabha. He prayed there were no heated debates taking place, as there had been twice in recent months. The first had been when the Grand Regent had decided to make Vidhura, the Prime Minister. Suyodhana had been sitting with his Uncle Shakuni, when the Grand Regent stood up to make that historic announcement.
"Today is a special day for Hastinapura. With the consent of His Highness Dhritarashtra, I appoint the sagacious and learned scholar Vidhura, Prime Minister of Hastinapura." The sabha had immediately erupted into an uproar.
"But your Excellency, he is a Shudra; the son of a palace maid!" Dhaumya, a young Priest stood up and shouted over the din. Suyodhana looked up at Shakuni, who sat with a smug smile on his face, gently caressing his knees.
Bhishma raised his hands and the murmurings died away. "Sri Dhaumya, must I remind you that like His Highness Dhritarashtra and the deceased King Pandu, Vidhura too, is the grandson of my father Shantanu?"
"But Sir..."
"Must I remind you that the King's grandmother, Satyavathi, was a fisherwoman, who wed my father, a blue-blooded Kshatriya? Must I remind you that when her son Vichitraveera died without an heir to continue the line, the same fisherwoman dared to overrule men like yourself and call upon her other son, the sage Vyasa, to impregnate her widowed daughters-in-law, according to the ancient custom of niyoga?"
"Sir, niyoga is..."
"Dhaumya, keep your sermons to yourself. Tell me who Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa is?" The young Priest squirmed at the question. "Why do you feel so embarrassed to speak the truth? Vyasa is the illegitimate son of my stepmother Satyavathi, fathered by the sage Parashara, before her marriage to my father. Vyasa, the son of a fisherwoman, is the father of Dhritarashtra, Pandu, and Vidhura. So which caste does Vidhura belong to?" Bhishma asked with a mischievous smile on his usually stern face.
"Bhishma got him there!" Shakuni whispered into Suyodhana's ears. Suyodhana looked at his uncle for an explanation. Shakuni explained to the young boy that the Grand Regent had beautifully tied Dhaumya into a knot using his own arguments against him. If the young Priest said Vidhura was a Shudra, because of his mother, then the entire Kuru lineage became Shudra, because their grandmother was a fisherwoman. Questioning Vidhura's legitimacy was like questioning the King's lineage.
Dhaumya knew he was beaten. Suyodhana watched him sit down sullenly. The new Prime Minister then took an oath to serve the kingdom until the day of his death.
Though Shakuni had effusively congratulated the new Prime Minister that day, Suyodhana somehow felt that they disliked each other intensely.
Suyodhana vividly remembered the second debate as well. It had all started with his aunt Kunti requesting Bhishma to permit her to attend the sabha. When the Grand Regent announced his decision, Dhaumya angrily remarked that it was unprecedented for women to be present in the sabha. The orthodox Brahmin quoted various smritis regarding widows not being permitted to be seen in public, let alone holding positions of power.
Bhishma placed Vidhura in the forefront of this battle against orthodoxy and the scholar put the learned Brahmins to shame by eloquently quoting the Vedas and overwhelming them with examples of women, including widows, playing prominent roles in the country's affairs from ancient times. When logic did not work, the Priests began abusing the man, saying Vidhura did not have the authority to study the Vedas and thus there was no question of his quoting scripture. Suyodhana could still feel Vidhura's pain.
Fortunately for the beleaguered Prime Minister, the travelling ascetic and greatest living scholar of the Vedas, Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa, walked into the court that day. Bhishma and even the blind King, rose from their seats to touch the feet of the great man. When Bhishma sought his advice on the ticklish question, the sage quietened the raging war of words with his characteristic humour and wisdom. Considered the final authority on all scriptures, he was in the process of codifying, arranging and recording India's ancient oral literature. He told the Priests that Vidhura was right.
"What right has a Shudra to quote the scriptures? Guru, perhaps you empathise with him because of your special relationship to Vidhura," Dhaumya said, smirking at his supporters.
When Suyodhana asked his uncle what the Priest had meant by that remark, Shakuni told him to keep quiet. But Suyodhana could feel the tension in the air. Shakuni was observing the sage intently.
In response to Dhaumya's barbed comment, Vyasa chuckled. "Why don't you say what you mean, young man? I am a Shudra. Moreover, I was born out of wedlock. I am the illeg
itimate child of a dark-skinned fisherwoman and the scholarly Brahmin, Parashara, who did not think twice about my caste when imparting knowledge of the scriptures to me."
The Priests stood writhing before him in discomfort.
"I have added to my father's teachings by virtue of the knowledge gained through my travels and discourses with saints and scholars throughout this land. None of these savants ever asked me what my caste was. I have travelled from the Himalayas to the holy city where the three oceans meet, and no scholar asked me which language or dialect I spoke at home. They came from all classes and creeds, and differed in their thoughts, yet they all spoke the universal language of love towards humankind. They lived far from the cities and shunned worldly comforts for the serenity of the forests. They neither clung to power nor claimed supremacy by accident of birth. They did not write smritis or believe in them. Yet here you are, using your scholarship and intellect to divide people based on caste, creed and dialect; while the truly great ones only sought the betterment of the whole world. Therein lies the difference. I pray God grant you the wisdom to know the Truth. Should the likes of Parashurama prevail, I foresee bloodshed and war for this holy land of India."
There was perfect silence in the sabha. Suyodhana winced in pain as Shakuni's grip tightened on his shoulder. He tried to wriggle away but when he looked at his uncle's face, he suddenly felt afraid. Shakuni was staring at the sage with open hostility. Shakuni looked down at his nephew and his face relaxed as he loosened his grip.
"Kunti may attend the sabha," the Grand Regent pronounced to a smattering of applause.
Shakuni stood up to his full, imperious height. "Your Excellency, then what about my sister, Gandhari? Is she too, not qualified to attend the sabha?"
Bhishma stared at him for a long time and finally said, "Why not? It is a positive step forward. Like the women of yore, let Gandhari and Kunti bless our sabha with their wisdom."
Shakuni sat down, winking at Suyodhana, as the sage Vyasa walked away shaking his head. Suyodhana still rued that day. Now Gandhari no longer had time for her children, preoccupied as she was with countering Kunti's moves. The palace crackled with intrigue and conspiracy between the two powerful women, fighting for the future of their children. Even as a ten-year-old, Suyodhana could feel the tension in the air. The Royal men, however, appeared oblivious to the cold war between the women.
"See how the Priests favour Kunti over your mother," Shakuni had pointed out to him on another occasion. The same Priests had objected to Kunti's presence just a few weeks ago. Shakuni chuckled at Suyodhana's confusion. "Your aunt has endeared herself to those fanatics. She holds more fundamentalist views than even Dhaumya. If you do not watch out young man, one day they are going to throw you and your brothers out into the street like beggars, not to mention your parents."
"But Uncle..." Suyodhana looked up at Shakuni's crooked smile with his innocent dark eyes.
"Do not worry son, I am there to take care of you," Shakuni said, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.
Now, after his narrow escape from Bhima, he wanted the comfort of Shakuni's presence. Suyodhana walked through the long corridors. Servants were lighting the oil lamps affixed to the walls. He could hear sounds coming from the great hall. He entered the well-lit sabha, acknowledging the bows of the guards stationed at the door. Dhritarashtra, King of Hastinapura, sat on a bejewelled throne. His priceless crown reflected golden lights from the crystal chandeliers that hung from the carved ceiling. Near him, in an equally magnificent chair, sat Bhishma, Grand Regent of the Kurus. Shakuni was nowhere to be seen.
Suyodhana watched his Granduncle Bhishma, engrossed in correspondence, intervening only when he felt the assembly needed his advice. Prime Minister Vidhura stood at his side, taking notes. Uncle Vidhura was someone Suyodhana liked, though he did not understand why everyone, including his own parents, treated him with a hint of contempt. Suyodhana tried to attract Gandhari's attention, but it was Bhishma who noticed him, and called him to sit on his lap. Suyodhana considered himself too old to sit on anyone's lap but obliged the old man for a few minutes. He planted a quick, embarrassed kiss on the grandsire's cheek when he insisted, and then hopped down and ran away, the indulgent laughter of the assembly ringing in his burning ears. He wanted to see his Uncle Shakuni.
*
*
*
2 THE TEACHER COMES
SUYODHANA SAW THEM AS THREE dark shadows on the horizon, slowly growing bigger as they approached Hastinapura. It was early and he was dangling from the groaning branch of a mango tree. His brother Sushasana had already climbed higher and was throwing down the ripe mangoes. Their sister, Sushala, was running here and there, trying to collect the mangoes in her outspread skirt. Squirrels chirped angrily at this intrusion.
Though it was early, the summer day was getting hotter and dustier. But like the other children, the three siblings were indifferent to the heat. The ripe smell of sweet mangoes was far more compelling than the travails of summer. Besides, Guru Kripacharya's training class would be starting soon and then it would be difficult to sneak off to the mango groves outside the fort. They had discovered this mango tree at the edge of a cliff quite accidentally the previous evening. Normally, the gluttonous Bhima finished off even the raw mangoes and mercilessly beat up Suyodhana and his siblings if they dared go near the grove. The palace guards usually looked the other way since they knew whom to please and where the real power lay.
Seeing that his five cousins were down by the cliff, Suyodhana felt safe from the goon. He could see them from his vantage point on the branch. The eldest, Yudhishtra, was sitting cross-legged, meditating with a seriousness that belied his youth. Bhima was chasing a mongrel dog. Arjuna was practicing archery, his concentration unwavering as he aimed at his target. With a shudder, the Prince saw that Arjuna was aiming at a nest where a bird was feeding its little ones. Suyodhana wanted to shout out a warning, but before he could, Arjuna had shot his arrow. Fortunately, it just missed its mark. Arjuna stamped his foot in disgust. The twins, Nakula and Sahadeva, were playing with a cloth ball.
The three figures Suyodhana had spotted earlier, turned out to be a Brahmin, his wife, and their son, who looked to be about eight years old. Suyodhana watched the tall, fair Brahmin with the dark flowing beard, approach Arjuna. Behind the Brahmin stood his wife, an emaciated and frail woman, who appeared ready to collapse. The boy with them stood still, his big black eyes filled with wonderment. Bhima moved menacingly towards the little boy, rolling his eyes. The boy's father was talking to Arjuna and did not see it. The boy clutched his mother's hand in fright as the bully grinned, pointing at him. Suyodhana wanted to run down the cliff and fight Bhima. He might not win and Bhima would probably thrash both him and his brother, but at least it would give the frail boy time to escape.
Sushasana had also seen Bhima. Picking up the biggest mango at hand, he stood poised to hurl it from the top of the tree. Suyodhana smiled at the thought of the ripe mango splattering on Bhima's fat face.
The Pandava twins came running excitedly and said something. The wind carried their voices to the top of the cliff and the Prince faintly heard that they had lost their cloth ball in a well. Bhima lost interest in the little Brahmin boy and ran towards the well. Sushasana, who had already let fly the ripe mango at Bhima, saw it miss and land on the ground, and roll towards a bush.
"Bhai, you threw away our best mango," whined little Sushala.
"Shut up!" hissed Sushasana, while Suyodhana smiled down at his pouting sister.
Meanwhile, Yudhishtra had uncoiled himself from his meditative pose and was speaking reverently to the Brahmin, bowing and touching his feet and behaving in the obsequious manner Suyodhana had come to despise in his eldest cousin. Bhima was leaning over the low wall of the well while the twins pointed to their ball floating in the water far below.
"Suyodhana, I wish I could tip fatso over the wall," said Sushasana wistfully and Suyodhana almost laughed aloud.
&nb
sp; Yudhishtra led the Brahmin towards the well, with Arjuna following with his bow held firmly in his hand. The frail woman trailed behind. Two soldiers stood on guard at the gate of the fort; their faces mirror images of boredom. The Brahmin peered into the well and then slung down the bow he was carrying over his shoulder. He took an arrow from his quiver and tied the end of his angavasthra to its blunt end. Then he uncoiled the rope, which bound his belongings and tied it to the end of the angavasthra. He leaned precariously over the well wall, and taking careful aim, shot the arrow into the dark depths. From the cheers of the Pandava brothers, Suyodhana could tell the Brahmin had found his mark.
Suyodhana looked at his brother, who was watching the scene with astonishment. It was quite a feat to shoot a ball bobbing on the water thirty feet down a dark well. The Brahmin pulled out the ball, detached it from the sharp tip of his arrow, and placed it into the outstretched hands of Sahadeva, the youngest Pandava. Arjuna fell at the Brahmin's feet but was lifted up with a tenderness bordering on devotion.