by Unknown
"Honourable Prime Minister, I did not wish to say this but alas you force the words from my mouth. Ask him which caste he belongs to."
"But how does it..."
"I understand your sympathies as you too, belong to these people. He is a Suta, a lowly charioteer caste. I am a Brahmin. Yet you expect me to teach him?"
Vidhura's face flushed with shame and embarrassment. In the court hierarchy, he was far above Guru Drona but he lacked the confidence to confront someone who was his superior by caste. Karna did not want to hear the rest of the argument. He knew it was over. His father held him still but Karna could not control his tears.
Drona turned to Vidhura defiantly. "Do not think you can come here and push me into taking a low-caste boy as my student. As Prime Minister, you can discharge me from my job. If you order it, I will take my wife and son and leave Hastinapura. I may starve or get a job in another kingdom where they respect Brahmins and do not force them to act against their faith. Starvation is better than taking orders from a Shudra. Do whatever you and Lord Bhishma wish, but I will not teach a low-caste."
Prince Suyodhana stood up from his kneeling position. Drona saw it. "You fool! Do you think you can act impudently in my class? Do as you were ordered." Suyodhana sank back onto his knees.
"Drona, you have insulted the country and the Crown Prince by your words! There are limits..." Vidhura drew his sword.
"Are you threatening me, you low-caste? A Shudra Prime Minister, a blind King, and an arrogant Crown Prince! No wonder a Suta wants to become a warrior. Next, a Nishada will apply to become my student!"
Karna felt greater pain for the Prime Minister than for himself. He could see Vidhura was trying to control his anger.
"You will hear from Lord Bhishma." Vidhura bowed deeply to Drona, emphasizing the courtesy.
The mocking bow was worse than a blow. "You... you... how dare you insult a Brahmin? Let me see whether Hastinapura has ears for the cry of a Brahmin or only listens to the complaints of a Shudra. Now get out of the training ground. This place is for Kshatriyas and not people like you. Take the chariot driver and your equals from here. I will answer to the Regent of the Kurus."
Without another word, Vidhura walked away. Karna followed him, his head bowed. Only Athiratha lingered a moment, before finally walking away with a heavy heart.
***
Drona did not want to face the poor chariot driver. He knew the boy had the makings of a great warrior. He had seen him defend the fort the night of Takshaka's raid. Unfortunately, he belonged to the wrong caste. As a human, Drona could sympathize with a father who wished to fulfil his son's ambitions. But his own Guru, Parashurama, had trained him to believe in the purity and sanctity of caste and he did not dare break those rules. He was unlike his brother-in-law, Kripa, whom he both detested and feared. Kripa was a greater scholar and perhaps a better warrior than he was, but he was an unreliable maverick. Kripa found pleasure in deliberately breaking the rules. Drona could not afford to do so. 'I have a son to bring up,' thought Drona, looking at Aswathama, his eyes alight with affection. But Aswathama's eyes were fixed upon the charioteer's son walking away. 'My boy was so sweet until he met that rascal, Suyodhana. He spoilt my boy,' thought the Guru with deep resentment. But Hastinapura paid its employees well. And now there was the worry whether Vidhura would poison the Regent's mind and have him thrown out. Would he be impoverished again? What would happen to his son? And all because of a stupid charioteer who dreamt beyond his position?
Suyodhana reminded Drona of his brother-in-law, Kripa, except that the lad had greater willpower. The boy questioned everything. His doubts were mostly unanswerable. He made Drona feel inadequate. So Drona reacted with the viciousness that only teachers are capable of towards students they do not like. He thought the boy arrogant and attacked him where he knew it would hurt the most - comparing his skill and intelligence to the Pandavas'; and belittling him whenever he could. He wanted to crush the boy's rebellious spirit and mellow him so he would fit into society. Drona knew instinctively that such spirit in a powerful person could only bring about disaster. If the wild forces in the boy were not tamed, he could shake the country and impose his will on it. As a teacher, Drona considered it his duty to mould his students to fit into society. Teaching was not about making rebels who would challenge and change the established order. He was sure that ultimately everybody, including the Gods and god men, conspired to pull down such rebels and crush them into the dust. That was what the history of this country had taught him. The rise and fall of men like Ravana, Bali, and Mahabali, were incontrovertible proof of this. Society was sanathana, eternal and unchanging. Rebels and reformers had only one place to go in such a country, and the Gods took on avatars to grind such rebels into the dust. That was dharma - to protect which, they took human birth.
Drona beat Suyodhana at the slightest provocation and meted out insulting punishments. On the days when even this did not move the stubborn Prince to tears, he would use the ultimate punishment - call him and his brothers sons of Andha, like-father-like-sons, unable to see right from wrong. That silenced the Prince for the day, while the five Pandavas laughed at the Guru's comments about their cousins. Drona thought morosely that he was not the only one crushing the dangerous spirit in the boy, and currying favour. After him, his son Aswathama would inherit his post of Raja Guru and advisor to a future generation of Princes. There would be no place for Shudra usurpers like Vidhura in that beautiful world.
When he saw Aswathama talking to Suyodhana, Drona lost his temper and thrashed his son until his own hands ached. He vented all the pent-up anger over his poverty, his confrontation with Vidhura, his fears and complexes, on Aswathama's small body. He pushed the bawling boy towards the Pandavas, forcing him to sit next to Arjuna, his favourite student. Arjuna hid a smile at the plight of the Guru's son. And while the Guru was shouting at Suyodhana, Bhima managed to pinch Aswathama twice and call him a sissy. The boy cried louder, only to be beaten by his father again.
From the thick green foliage of the mango trees, two pairs of dark eyes watched this drama unfold. While the Guru was beating his son, Jara asked Ekalavya, "You think he will teach you now? He was not even ready to teach a boy like Karna. We are Nishadas, far below Sutas."
"Shut up, you fool! You talk too much. I am going to learn from him. One can learn as much by sitting here as by being there, like poor Suyodhana. We will watch what he teaches Arjuna and learn. No one, not even Drona, is going to stop me learning from him. And one day I will surprise him by defeating his favourite, Arjuna." Ekalavya turned to kick Jara, who was laughing at these audacious dreams.
***
"You are late again." Parshavi placed a simple meal before her husband and sat down.
Vidhura merely smiled at her and began eating reluctantly. "Enough," he finally said, refusing a second helping and standing up. "Are the boys asleep?" he asked, as he wiped his hands dry on the towel Parshavi handed him.
"You are asking as if it is something uncommon. You do not even come home but sleep in your office so many nights. When you do come home, it is almost time for you to go back. Why are you working like this?"
"Parshavi, you do not know the pressure we are under. I feel sorry for Bhishma. The old man is carrying the burden of the entire country on his tired shoulders. It is my duty..."
"Don't you have any duty towards your family? Should I remind the great scholar about your duty towards your sons? You are the Prime Minister but just see how we live. We do not even have a house to call our own. You do not wish us to have any servants. You use the chariot only on official duty. You could save time by using it instead of walking all the way to your office and back and spend that time with us. You seem to enjoy poverty. We are the laughing stock of our neighbours. Even junior government officials live better than we do. You are the King's brother, yet see how we live. Is Bhishma unaware of this?"
"We have had this conversation many times, Parshavi." Vidhura hurried to the room where his twin sons slept.
He sat near them, quietly watching their faces.
"We should think about them. The times are uncertain. Our boys are good students but will they have jobs when they grow up? All the positions are reserved for Brahmins. I am afraid for their future."
"Parshavi, trust in God. We have not wronged anyone. Trust in the goodness of people. Worrying too much about the future shows your lack of faith in God."
"Then why are you and Bhishma so worried about the future of the country? Why not leave it to God?" Parshavi regretted the retort as soon as she uttered it. Her husband was sensitive about his country. She watched as he rose and moved to their bedroom without a word.
When she finished her chores and entered the room, he was lying with his face to the wall. She sat on the edge of the bed, searching for the right words to melt the ice between them.
He suddenly turned and said, "I sometimes wonder whether all the hard work I put in is of any use."
She gripped his hand." What has happened?"
"Nothing really. I only wanted to do something good for a poor boy and was insulted by the Guru and lost face. Ultimately everything boils down to caste in this country."
She knew when to remain silent. She sat listening to his deep breathing. It was almost dawn.
"We will build our own house. You are right. When we are gone, the boys should have at least a roof over their heads." The words were almost inaudible.
Parshavi did not say anything. She had heard about the house they would build many times before. She did not wish to argue with her husband again. Instead, she quietly slipped under the quilt and put her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart thumping under her fingers as she slipped into a disturbed sleep.
***
Karna sat in a corner of his hut, staring into the darkness. He was not dreaming of challenging Arjuna one day. He was thinking of the best way to end his miserable, worthless, Suta life.
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5 THE MAVERICK BRAHMIN
KRIPA CURSED THE MOSQUITOES BOTHERING HIM. He had once again lost money while gambling and did not want to go home and see Kripi's face. As on many other nights, he decided to sleep under the Banyan tree. He knew his sister would be waiting for him even though his hours had become more and more erratic. It was a mistake to have married her to Drona, Kripa thought. It was not that he hated his brother-in-law, but he resented the unsolicited advice Drona was so fond of giving him, and his all-knowing attitude. It was a hot and humid night. A starless and damp sky spread over him like a wet umbrella. The crickets were creating an infernal racket, with the frogs joining in. He could smell rain and hear the river swelling. If it rained he would be forced to go home. Kripa did not relish the thought at all.
The first drops of rain fell on the expectant earth. What was that noise? Was it a splash? Some idiot had jumped into the river and was drowning. By Nandi, why could the rascal not have chosen some other time to die, preferably when he was not around? Kripa ran towards the water and saw a dark head bobbing up and down in the swiftly flowing current. The last thing he wanted to do was jump into the river at this ungodly hour. The fool was sure to die anyway. Kripa was a strong swimmer but was unsure whether he would be able to drag the idiot back to shore. With a resigned shrug, he slapped his thighs and jumped into the river.
Kripa gasped as the water swallowed him, surprised at the strength of the current. It was colder than he had expected and the river seemed to pull him into her dark womb with a million hands. The rain had turned into a squall and now pelted down with brutal force. Where the hell was he or she? Then Kripa saw him, 300 yards away, bobbing up and down in the water. The damn fellow was probably dead already. Kripa uttered a few choice expletives and started swimming towards the drowning figure, using his great strength. After what seemed like a lifetime, he managed to grab the drowning man's hair and began swimming back. Exhausted, he dragged the comatose figure onto the bank, a mile from the temple ghat. He wanted to kick and scream at the fool but the fellow was unconscious. After catching his breath, Kripa began pressing his quarry's stomach to expel the water he had most certainly swallowed. After an agony of waiting, Kripa was about to give up when the sodden and drenched body stirred into consciousness.
"Who the hell are you, you fool?" Kripa slapped the sodden face and heard a sob.
"Forgive me."
Kripa was surprised. The voice had not yet broken; it was that of a boy, not some drunken reveller as he had expected. Kripa felt sorry for the woebegone figure before him. How much unhappiness must the boy have endured in his short life to compel him to take such an extreme step?
"What happened to you, son? Why are you trying to end your life?" Kripa's hand dropped onto the boy's head while he tried to identify the face.
"Swami, I am a wretched low-caste, a Suta, a charioteer's son, and no one wishes to teach me anything."
Suta! It was the son of that chariot driver, Athiratha. He remembered the day they had come to him and how he had treated them. 'Did I not try to make amends? Did I not call out to them as they passed today, to say I accepted their request? But they were in too much of a hurry to hear me out.' Kripa tried to justify his actions but knew he had behaved like a rogue. There was no denying that. He looked down at the wretched boy and said, "I forget your name but I remember you and your father coming to me. I am Kripa."
"Acharya Kripa? Swami, why did you save me? Why did you risk your life for a worthless Suta?"
"Tell me your name."
"Guru, I was named Vasusena, but am known to all as Karna."
"Karna, you fool! Listen to me. Do not keep repeating you are low-born and such rubbish. No one is low or high. If you accept you are low-born, the world will be happy to concede that to you."
"But I am a charioteer's son."
"You are ignorant. Listen and learn to keep your mouth shut. That will serve you well in life. I will tell you this only once, for I am giving this advice free of cost. I ought to charge you for it but I owe you something now. You allowed me to save you from death and that has made me feel good about myself. For a change, I will teach you something free. Now, tell me what made you jump into the river at this hour?"
The rain had slackened a little and Karna sat without moving, staring at the river that hid so much.
"I know what you are thinking. You are blaming me for what is happening to you. You feel I am heartless and the world is cruel. You are cursing yourself for being born poor. You are lamenting the fact that you have a mere chariot driver as a parent. You look at your dilapidated hut and think how nice it would be to have been born into a rich home."
"Swami, I did not..." Karna did not want to look at the Brahmin's face. The river offered more solace.
"There is nothing wrong with such thoughts. They will make you strive harder in life and motivate you to achieve your dreams, provided you know how to channel your frustration and anger. Life is a gamble. You do not know how the dice will fall. But once they have, how you move the pieces is in your hands. It is mere chance that you were not born a Kshatriya or Brahmin. You could have been born a Nishada or Naga, and then your Suta home would have looked like a palace. The die has been cast and you cannot do anything about it. But you can choose to be a Brahmin or Kshatriya or Nishada or anything you want."
Kripa smiled at Karna's confusion. "Look at me when I speak. You are wondering how is it possible to be something else. Society has taught fools like you to believe in the chance of birth. The Priests have told you that if you are born a Brahmin, only then can you be a Brahmin. If your parents are Pariah, you will be a slave forever to all the other castes. It is all too easy to fool the people of our country."
"But... the Vedas say..."
"The Vedas do not say any such nonsense. The majority of our people have not even read the Vedas. Tell me, who is a Brahmin?"
"You are... Acharya Kripa..."
"If we go strictly by the Vedas, a Brahmin is one who has sought and found brahma; one who h
as found God within himself, in his thoughts, gained through knowledge. Do Drona or I look like we have found God? I cannot even find the way to my house on most days! A Kshatriya is supposed to be one who has found God in action, by doing his duty. A Vaishya is one who has found God in trade, by creating wealth; and a Shudra is one who has found God in love, by serving society. It has nothing to do with where or to whom anyone is born. You could be the Shudra son of a Brahmin father or vice versa. Whatever the silly Priests say, nowhere in any of our scriptures is it written that any one way of finding God is better than all the others. They do not even say that finding God is better than not doing so. The Vedic mind wonders about the mysteries of creation and the universe, but it does not speak in the voice of absolute truth. The Vedas merely hold the wonder of Man regarding the universe in which he lives."
"Guru, what you say must be true, but what about the society in which we live?"
"The Vedas are clear about society. For society to have balance, all four varnas are required. Knowledge, thought, direction, action, power, leadership, wealth, money, art, love - are like the organs of the body. One cannot say only one is important. That is why it is said the four varnas are the four parts of Brahma. You may have heard pseudo-Brahmins boasting of how they emerged from Brahma's head; the Kshatriyas from his arms; the Vaishyas from his thighs." Kripa paused and smiled at Karna. "And..."