by Rahul Mitra
Aditya’s face burned, the small hairs on his hand stood on end, and his breathing became laboured. This always happened to him when he thought of the past.
“I heard you tried to kill him?” said Pandi, cutting into his thoughts.
“Yes I did,” said Aditya.
“But you weren’t successful. So what do you intend to do now?”
It was a topic Aditya had thought about for a long, long time. He remembered every detail of his attack on Indukalpa. It had been his own inexperience that had allowed that pig to escape! But things had changed since then. With the skill he now had, he would never make the same mistakes. Never! Inadvertently, he shook his head.
“Indukalpa has grown in power and prestige. Do you think you, as you are, can even get close to such a man?” It was almost as if Pandi knew what he was thinking.
Aditya stared down at the ground.
“Someday,” he murmured.
“Yes . . . someday. Someday, when you need help, always remember that I am available to you, and so are my men. It’s like our caravan. We will fight and defend everyone in our party.”
“No Pandi, this is my matter and I will settle it myself. If there is any justice in this world, if there is any reason for me to remain alive, it is so that I can kill this man with my own hands. No one else will have the satisfaction,” Aditya’s voice was deathly calm. He took a deep breath and continued, “I mark everyday that passes, Pandi, for with everyday that passes I become stronger, I gain in wealth and power, and I get closer and closer to my goal. The swordfighting that you teach me, there is nothing more anyone could do. My contacts in Magadha are growing and there will soon come a time that I will need to travel back to Pataliputra.”
Pandi shook his head.
“No, no Aditya—you have come a long way since the first day I saw you, but there’s still a lot to learn. I’d advise you to be patient,” he said and then continued, “Take your time, build your allies and friends, gather your resources, for your enemy is very strong. Among the Ashvakas, there is a saying which goes, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold’. Do not act in haste. This is what I wanted to tell you.”
“No, Pandi this time I will not do anything stupid.”
“And you can count on me always for help, for I know many people in Pataliputra.”
“I will, Pandi when the time comes.”
“Good, now that that’s settled, let’s get back, it’s getting dark. I am sure your friend Rishabha would love some cheetal meat, wouldn’t he?”
“Ohh yes,” Aditya looked around as if he had just woken up, “yes, we need to get out of here before sunset.”
They heaved themselves up and made their way back, the way they had come.
le when I was in Pataliputra this time?”
Ashvaghosha
Aditya hurtled through the air on the back of four hundred kilos of pure muscle. Under him, Ashvaghosha’s body was coiled taut like a loaded bow, as Aditya maintained a tight grip on the reins, holding him back for the final spurt. Horse and rider leaned into the wind. Training for the Vasant Utsav races had begun!
“Steady son, steady. Hold yourself,” shouted Aditya.
Ashvaghosha was running like the wind, his whole body a blur of smooth, sinewy muscle. His head strained forward, the forelegs reaching out with every step, thudding into the ground with enormous force. His haunches quivered, the muscles rippling under his rich, tan hide. Up on the horse, Aditya could feel the tremendous power of those wound-up muscles, the authority and might of those thudding hooves.
Just over two months had passed since Ashvaghosha had arrived in Takshashila. Reunited with his master, he had quickly rediscovered his appetite and energy, and had even become the darling of all the students in their circle. They spoilt him rotten with treats and rub-downs, while Ashvaghosha basked in all the attention. Under the steady, loving care of Aditya and his friends, the horse had made a miraculous recovery.
He was now back to his old ways, straining at the leash, begging to be let free even as Aditya held him back. He had to learn to pace himself. The racetrack was over three kos in length, and the winner would be the horse which reserved its energy for the final spurt.
Up, atop the stupa, Charaka watched horse and rider with an eagle eye. He was no great rider himself, but his ability to understand and train Ashvaghosha, had surprised everyone. It shouldn’t have, for Charaka was an Ashvaka, a tribe famous throughout India for its horsemanship. Like the man himself, his training practices were also highly unorthodox, but they worked. Under his supervision, Ashvaghosha had gained rapidly in muscle, as well as speed.
Today, however, Charaka was frowning. If they had to teach this horse to pace itself, they needed to work him against another top quality horse. There was also the question of Aditya’s weight. Ashvaghosha was a little smaller than the racehorses generally used by cavalry officers, and they could do with as little weight on his back as possible. Over a distance of three kos, even a small decrease in the rider’s weight meant a much fresher horse going into the home stretch. He was already making Aditya run and exercise in the mornings, but his eating and drinking habits bothered Charaka. These worries were racing through his mind, as he watched Aditya and Ashvaghosha practice.
Meanwhile, Radha, who was standing beside him, was jubilant. There was no doubt in her mind as to which team would win this race.
Down on the grounds next to the river, Ashvaghosha had just passed the carefully arranged pile of stones that marked the end of one kos. Up ahead near the two kos mark, Rishabha waited for Aditya sitting astride another horse. This was another of Charaka’s ideas. Since they couldn’t get their hands on a top quality racing horse, they would give Ashvaghosha’s training partner a huge advantage. It would start fresh and run only for the last kos. It would also start with a lead so that, towards the end, Aditya would be forced to demand an all-out burst from Ashvaghosha.
Ashvaghosha thundered down the track and Rishabha now broke his horse into a canter. By the time Aditya and Ashvaghosha speeded past the two kos mark, the other horse was almost fifteen to twenty gaj ahead of them, and running at full gallop.
“Steady son, steady,” Aditya spoke into Ashvaghosha’s ear, keeping his voice calm.
Horse and rider were now one. The slightest twitch of the rein, a change in the pressure of the knees or ankles, conveyed to the horse what the master wanted, while the master himself was completely in sync with the horse’s moods and energy levels. Ashvaghosha was still straining at the reins as he flew over the track. He was gaining on Rishabha’s horse with every stride.
With about half a kos left, Aditya loosened the reins and Ashvaghosha immediately took up the slack. From atop the stupa, Charaka and Radha watched the two horses go, as Ashvaghosha flew over the racetrack, rapidly eating up the lead. One moment, he was behind the other horse and the very next moment, his neck drew level with the other’s haunches. Then, the two horses were side-by-side.
Aditya’s grip now went completely slack on the reins. He leaned over and shouted into the horse’s ears, as he bobbed up and down, his head leaning into the wind.
“Come on, son. Come on now,” he shouted over and over again.
Aditya’s excitement transferred instantly to the horse, electrifying his muscles. Running free, Ashvaghosha now pulled ahead of his rival with an ease that almost made it seem as if the other horse had been standing still all along. Aditya shouted wildly, bobbed up and down and slapped Ashvaghosha’s haunches as he whipped him into a frenzy of excitement. In the end, they streaked across the finish line almost fifteen gaj ahead of the other two.
Rishabha came over, wiping his sweat, almost intoxicated with enthusiasm.
“Smashed it, smashed it! I didn’t even see you guys coming. The way you overtook us . . . damn!”
Radha and Charaka came sprinting up. Charaka had some jaggery and chickpea for the horse.
“Did you see that Radha? Oh boy, I tell you, I have never seen a horse like t
his,” panted Rishabha.
They fell upon Ashvaghosha, who was all puffed up with pride. He tossed his mane into the wind and pranced around, wiggling his ears at everyone. They fed him lumps of jaggery, patted and kissed him over and over again, and scratched his neck. Everyone was elated.
Only Charaka was frowning. His eyebrows knotted together, lines visible on his forehead. He looked at Ashvaghosha with a critical eye, as he fed him the jaggery.
“We need a good, top quality horse Shreeman, a horse that can test him. Otherwise, we may never know what Ashva is really capable of.”
Rishabha sobered down and they discussed what could be done. There were still two months left to go, for the races. Perhaps something could be arranged before that. Rishabha promised to ask around and then the group dispersed. Training for the day was over.
***
Rumours about the crazy training practices of a couple of impoverished students, quickly spread through the city, and word got around that a serious challenger to Sumukha had emerged. It first spread as loud discussions in Tanku’s dhaba, then as whispers among students in the gurukuls and rife speculation among the trainee monks at the Vihara next to the stupa, where Aditya trained.
It was the first time that someone from the merchant classes was taking part in the race. Sumukha was hated by large sections of the population, and the fact that the challenger was a common man, led to support pouring in. Out of all of Aditya’s supporters, the dhaba owner Tanku turned out to be the most vociferous. He refused to take payments from him, and strictly forbade him from drinking. He boasted about this unknown contender to his customers, predicted his victory well in advance, and bet heavily on his winning the race. The old man was even known to drive away customers who supported Sumukha.
Egged on by Tanku’s free publicity, a groundswell of support coalesced around this ragged band. Pandi and his men turned up regularly at the training sessions and raced their horses against Aditya as instructed. When he got to know about the race, Mahinda pushed a special allowance for the horse’s diet onto Aditya and even offered him leave for the final two weeks. Charaka’s worries about a top quality training partner were also solved when both Mahinda and Navinda, offered him their best horses to train against. Even the senior Buddhist monks from the vihara turned up at one of their practice sTheir training sessions began drawing a lot of interest. Gamblers wanted to check if the horse was indeed as fast as had been reported; novice monks started hanging around in between their classes, and ordinary people turned up to see if the stories they had heard were true. Charaka was mortified by the growing crowds and soon started scheduling the sessions mid-morning, the same time as the actual race. Aditya got Mahinda’s permission for these training sessions and the others came whenever they could make it.
It was at one such practice session that a motley crowd of twenty people hung around watching. They goggled with amazement when they saw the bizarre training routine.
Practice for the day went like this: Ashvaghosha would stand at the starting position, his body quivering, muscles wound up tight, as he waited for a signal from Aditya. Meanwhile, Pandi and Rishabha would come galloping up behind them. Just when they reached level with Ashvaghosha, Charaka would cry out, Aditya would slap Ashvaghosha on the side, horse and rider would tear out like an arrow released from a bow, and they would attempt to clear the two horses in front. No sooner was this done, than the race was called off, and the whole procedure repeated all over again.
The onlookers were divided into two camps, some praising the wisdom of this move and others criticizing it. The twins said that this was to train the horse to take an early lead, while others pointed out that the horses which led at the start, were never the ones that won, for they always seemed to tire themselves out. What many of them did not know was, that thanks to the good horses they had access to, Ashvaghosha was also being raced against three different horses, each of them starting fresh at the end of one kos.
Charaka, shy as he was, did not feel the need to explain his training methods to anyone, but he was satisfied with the preparations. The horse looked in superb condition and even though he would have liked to starve Aditya down a little more, he thought they could win. Vasant Utsav was just two weeks away.
***
“You don’t need to do this, Aditya. What are you trying to prove?” asked Devika.
“Prove? I am not trying to prove anything. Why don’t you just have faith in me for once? I tell you, I can win this race,” asked Aditya.
They were meeting in the udyaan after a number of days and Aditya had just informed her about his training for the race.
“Do you even know how dangerous these races are?” she asked and then looked down at the ground, “I’ll worry about you, Aditya,” she added in that soft and utterly feminine way of hers. Her face betrayed her concern.
An instant thrill shot through his veins, every pore of his being gladdened at her voice. He caught her by her arms and gazed into her eyes.
“Nothing will happen to me, Devika. Just believe in me, that’s all I ask. Please!”
She struggled in his grasp and looked away.
“You are just being obstinate!” She puffed out her cheeks and pouted like a little girl.
Aditya immediately melted. It was like this everytime he was with her. One moment he would be on top of the world and the very next moment, he would feel lower than the dust at her feet.
“Why?” she asked, exasperation showing on her face. “Why? Is this some childish enmity you have with Sumukha? You want to show him down—is that it? Do you really think you have a chance? He has won this race thrice in a row—he is a champion with horses. Why do you want to embarrass yourself like this?”
Aditya was suddenly irritated.
“Sumukha is nothing. He’s just an arrogant jerk; it’s only because of his father that he is where he is, otherwise . . .”
“Oh, stop it!” said Devika. “Stop badmouthing him! He’s my friend!”
Aditya grabbed hold of her hand with a firm, non-negotiable hold and pulled her towards himself.
“Then what am I, Devika?” His breathing had stopped and his eyes burned as he looked at her.
Devika reddened beautifully.
“You are . . . crazy, CRAZY!”
Aditya grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer still.
“I love you, Devika. I hate it when you talk about him. I . . . I really like you—you cannot understand . . .” he was blabbering senselessly now.
Devika was as stiff as a board in his arms. Her breathing became heavy. Slowly she relaxed, her head sank down against his shoulder, and she smiled to herself.
“Crazy . . .” she said softly and smiled.
To Aditya, it seemed as if time had stopped. That magical half-light of dusk, the cool evening breeze on his face, Devika’s head on his shoulders, the steady, intimate rythms of her breathing, and the overwhelming feeling of complete and utter contentment—all of this was seared into his memory. Till his dying day, he would never be certain how long that moment had lasted—it had seemed like forever.
With one hand, Aditya lightly touched her forearm, his fingers tracing intricate patterns on her skin, moving up all the way from her arms, to her shoulders, her neck and then her face. His hands came to rest on her cheek and Devika looked up at him with frightened eyes. Aditya caressed her face.
“Devika . . .” he murmured.
She looked at him, heady with emotion. Her mouth was half-open, but she did not say anything.
“Devika, will you come to the race?” he asked.
It was as if a spell had been broken. She pulled away from his embrace and looked around as if she had just woken up from a trance. They were in a secluded section of the udyaan, but it was still a public place. In a moment, before Aditya could understand what was happening, she had turned around and was running away.
“What? Devika, what happened?”
Aditya ran after her. She was running, stumb
ling, trying to get away from him. He reached out and caught her hand.
“Devika, what happened? Will you come?”
The same half-wild look and emphatic shakes of her head; she didn’t meet his eyes.
“I don’t know, I don’t know—I’ll try,” she said and then in a trice, she was off again.
Aditya stood staring at her, as she ran from him. He felt terribly confused, both depressed and elated at the same time.
essions, to bless the horse and the rider.
The Day of Reckoning
Vasant Utsav is celebrated in the month of Magh, after winter has retreated from the land and the gardens are blooming with flowers. Goddess Saraswati is worshipped on this day and people wear yellow in her honour. Men, women, and children adorn themselves with garlands of bright yellow marigolds and everyone mixes freely. Among the followers of Buddha, special prayers are held in the monasteries, and young monks take the day off to fly kites made of silk and bamboo.
That day had arrived. Wild celebrations gripped the citizens of Takshashila. Everyone was infected. By mid-morning, many of the larger streets were packed with crowds. Mahua flowed freely, strangers accosted each other with coloured powder, and groups of pretty young women flitted through the crowds, looking like apsaras in their brightly-dyed yellow sarees.
Neighbours and friends exchanged greetings, and everyone made their way to the palace. The King and his family came out in a huge procession and showered the assembled multitudes with gold coins. They were rewarded with lusty cheers in return. Later, elaborate feasts were held, as extended families and friends, all got together to eat and drink. Happy and satiated, people sat together in small groups, singing or playing on the drums, and finally started making their way to the race course outside the city, where the annual Vasant Utsav races would be held.
***
The preparations were complete. The ground had been levelled with the help of elephants and bamboo poles had been driven into the ground all along the track. Ropes tied across these poles delineated the track from the section for the audience. The track stretched on for a distance of one kos and was shaped like a closed ellipse. Brightly-coloured flags fluttered from two tall poles, marking the start and end points. Participants had to pass this point three times, to complete the race. An elaborate platform had been erected at one end of this ellipse, for the viewing pleasure of the King and the royal family, and separate sections had been marked out all along the outside for the nobles, the Brahmins, and the commoners. The grounds were still largely empty.