The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 Read online

  ‘Or?’ Dharma had snapped.

  ‘Or he fears foreign invasion more than he does internal dissent…’ Shalya had finished, leaving no doubt that the statement was nothing but a compliment to Syoddhan. Dharma had given no response. With a final apology, the King of Madra had left. That had been yesterday, though it felt to Dharma like a long time ago.

  ‘Agraja…?’ Nakul’s voice brought Dharma out of his musings. ‘They are all here. It is time.’ Dharma nodded and made his way to the assembly hall, Nakul by his side.

  They entered, and as one the occupants of the hall rose from their seats to greet the True Emperor of Aryavarta, the man whose cause they had come to support. His earlier misgivings gone, Dharma felt a surge of pride, of warm conviction at the thought that the gods had brought him to this moment for one and only one reason alone: His was the righteous cause.

  ‘Praise be to Varuna!’ he whispered, adding a further silent prayer to any other gods who might have been listening. With that, Dharma Yudhisthir took his seat at the head of the assembly and called the Council to order.

  24

  ‘WE HAVE ONE AKSHAUHINI DIVISION FROM KING DHRUPAD AND about three-quarters of a division from Chief Virat,’ Dharma began, taking stock of their forces before the council. ‘Some of our vassals from Dakshinavarta have also promised men. I estimate that will add up to another full akshauhini, with over twenty thousand elephants, sixty thousands horses, plus chariot-archers, and of course a hundred-thousand strong infantry. Yuyudhana, you have some men too?’

  ‘I do,’ Yuyudhana proudly declared. ‘Of course, they aren’t many in number, truth be told; but the tradesmen – the unassigned warriors of Dwaraka – were willing to go to war in my name. Together with my personal guard, they number a little less than half a division. I suppose, if we add Pradymna’s men, that brings us to just about half an akshauhini.’

  ‘There are that many fighting men in Dwaraka? Haven’t a fair number already gone to Syoddhan?’ Bhim asked, clearly impressed.

  Dharma was not. ‘How many Wrights?’ he asked, ignoring Panchali next to him as she instinctively clenched her fist.

  ‘What?’ Yuyudhana said.

  ‘I need to know, Yuyudhana…especially in the Narayaniya division that fights for Syoddhan…how many Firewrights are there?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Govinda yourself?’

  A stillness took hold of the group till Govinda softly said, ‘None.’

  It was Dharma’s turn to be stunned. ‘What?’

  ‘None!’ Yuyudhana tersely repeated. ‘None against us. None for us. Pradymna and I are as much Wrights as your Gandiva-wielding Partha… We retain the touches of having been guided by one, but are not Wrights in any sense of the word.’

  ‘Fine,’ Dharma ignored his tone. ‘So your men bring it to about three and a half divisions.’

  ‘Nearly four,’ Dhrstyadymn corrected.

  ‘If only Uncle Shalya…’ Partha exclaimed.

  ‘He must do what he must do, Partha,’ Dharma was philosophical. ‘He owes Syoddhan an old debt of gratitude. By law and morality, he can’t say no… He must fight for Syoddhan.’

  ‘But we need more men…’

  In a low voice, Shikandin ventured, ‘I can assure you of a division. There may be more men, but I cannot commit on their numbers right now.’

  Dhrupad could not resist and, in a rare gesture, addressed his son directly. ‘Where did you get so many men from?’

  ‘There are some chieftains in Kalinga and some of the coastal kingdoms, including Pandya, who’ve given me their word to come whenever I call them to battle. There are also some small vassal nations in Kashi who would rather fight for me than for Sudakshin… Also, I’ve ordered all my spies back to me – most of them are fighting soldiers and hardy warriors. But I’m short on elephants, if we are to reckon army divisions. I have more horses, some excellent ones, too, but few elephants.’

  ‘That brings us to four then. That’s good,’ Dharma said, ‘but not enough.’

  ‘What is Syoddhan’s strength?’ Yuyudhana asked.

  ‘At last count, he had nearly four divisions from his allies, and two of his own. We can add Shalya’s akshauhini to that,’ Dharma said.

  Yuyudhana was astonished. ‘Four? How did he manage that?’

  ‘Two divisions between Asvattama and Vasusena alone. Then the Narayaniya army of Dwaraka, led by Kritavarman, as well as some more from the Yadu Confederation, led by your cousin, Bhurisravasu. Another half a division from King Sudakshin’s old armies. Of course, in that case, the men may be few but who knows what machinations they bring along with them, not to mention what surprises Acharya Dron and Kripa may have waiting for us.’ With great effort, he said his next words, ‘We may well be facing an army of Firewrights. Seven divisions of men with their powers, and their weapons and killing machines. Seven divisions of death…’

  ‘And one more from Bhagadatta. That, too, mainly elephants,’ Govinda said.

  ‘And then there’s Devala Asita…’ Partha added.

  A dark mood fell over the gathering as each one imagined the horrors they would have to face if it came to war.

  ‘Is there a chance that Balabadra…?’ Dharma began, with a hopeful look at Yuyudhana and Govinda.

  ‘No,’ Govinda was categorical.

  Shikandin bit his lower lip in thought and then said, ‘The Kekeyas and Trigartas, too, will fight on Syoddhan’s side. Those armies aren’t massive, but they’re fierce.’

  ‘No wonder Syoddhan refused to make peace. We’d have called him a coward if he’d shied away from war with a force like that at his beck and call.’ Dhrstyadymn muttered under his breath.

  ‘Who else remains?’ Dharma wondered out loud.

  Govinda had the answer. ‘The Chedi Kingdom. Dhrstaketu.’

  ‘So one more division to Syoddhan.’

  ‘Not necessarily. It’s worth trying to gain his support. He may or may not join us even if we try, but unless we do he certainly will favour Syoddhan.’

  ‘Dhrstaketu? Shisupala’s heir?’ Bhim was disbelieving.

  ‘As I said, he may come, if you give him the right reason.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Bid him come in the name of the old Emperor – in the name of Uparichara Vasu, his daughter princess Satya and their legacy. Chief Virat stands with us, and that is not a matter to be ignored. Syoddhan will play on his friendship with Shisupala, but my guess is Dhrstaketu would be more swayed by old honour than new loyalties. Once, his realm was home to the Firewrights; his own family sent their sons and daughters to be raised as members of the Order. He will not have forgotten what they endured, as did Matsya, in those days.’

  Chief Virat said, ‘I agree with Govinda. It’s worth trying. If Matsya explains why we stand with Dharma, it may convince Dhrstaketu to take our side. I’ll get one of my counsellors to take a message to him.’

  ‘Very well,’ Dharma assented. In a commanding tone, he began arranging the armies. ‘Chief Virat and King Dhrupad can lead their own men…’

  Virat interjected, proud, ‘My sons and my daughter shall march with me. They know my units better than I do.’

  Dharma gave a polite but noncommittal nod, and continued, ‘Yuyudhana, you have your men, but keep Pradymna ready to take over. I want you available to keep an eye on Dhrstaketu, if he does indeed join us. Shikandin, I suppose your men, too, are best left to you? All right. I hereby appoint Bhim and Dhrstyadymn as commanders of the other two divisions.’

  ‘And I?’ Partha asked.

  Dharma’s tone was kind. ‘You have too much on your hands already, Partha.’

  Partha looked like he was taken aback, but before he could protest Govinda stood up and stretched his arms out above his head. ‘Right. Last point of discussion before we get ready to march. Who is to be Commander? Of the entire army, that is?’

  ‘Surely…’ Dharma began.

  ‘It is not advisable, Dharma,’ Govinda interrupted. ‘We cannot keep you safe
if you are in the frontline. Always, there has been and there ought to be a difference between the Commander and the King.’

  ‘I propose the name of Prince Shikandin for Commander,’ Bhim said.

  ‘I support it,’ Yuyudhana promptly said. He looked around the room, as though daring anyone to raise an objection. Dhrupad and Yudhamanyu were speechless with rage, but Dhrstyadymn was visibly delighted. Shikandin did not react though it seemed to the others that silent words passed between him and Govinda.

  Govinda then said, ‘I propose Dhrstyadymn for our Commander. Of all those here who have trained under Acharya Dron, none has done so more intensively or recently than Dhrstyadymn. We need someone who can match the enemy in tactics as well as in courage. I don’t see anyone else here who could do that.’

  ‘I support the proposal,’ Dhrupad said loudly. Virat appeared to put more thought into the idea, but then, he too indicated his acquiescence.

  ‘Does anyone object?’ Govinda asked. ‘Bhim? Yuyudhana? Shikandin?’

  ‘Of course not,’ was all Shikandin said, drawing a relieved rush of breath from his brother.

  ‘All right. Dharma? Panchali? Nakul? Anyone? It’s done then,’ Govinda declared. ‘Dhrstyadymn is to lead our forces. We march at the earliest. I estimate that should be in about three days from now.’

  ‘Which is all very well, Govinda,’ Dhrstyadymn said. ‘But where exactly do I lead them to?’

  ‘We march to Indr-prastha,’ Dharma stated. ‘After all that has always been the plan, has it not?’

  ‘Yes,’ Govinda smiled. ‘We march towards Indr-prastha. But the White City won’t be so easily sighted, Dharma. Our enemy plays this game as well as we do. The first move has been made and, I must admit, it has been made well. Syoddhan has already set his mustered forces marching out of Indr-prastha. They head north.’

  ‘What? But…where to?’

  ‘They mean to stand in our way at the very borders of the kingdom. At Kurukshetra – Kuru’s Fields.’

  ‘Kuru’s Fields…?’ Suspicion set in, and Dharma flared up. ‘Why did you not mention this as soon as the Council began. Why wait till now?’

  ‘Because Shikandin caught the rumour of this move as he travelled through Kuru and Surasena to get here. But both he and I know better than to put our faith in drunken inn-talk, so I had Daruka verify the information. You might have noticed, Dharma, that Captain Daruka walked into this room a few moments ago, and he is visibly travel-weary. But all I needed from him was a single sign confirming our premise. Does that satisfy you? Or do you still think me some spy or puppeteer or such?’

  Dharma did not bother to apologize or explain. He swore loudly, ‘Yabha! Kuru’s fields… But why?’

  Govinda shrugged. ‘The obvious explanation is that Syoddhan knows Indr-prastha cannot support a large garrison effectively. Or it could be that he ascribes enough value to the city to not wish to risk battle on its grounds unless he has to.’

  ‘We can change our plans. We can attack Hastina instead,’ Dharma argued.

  ‘I thought, Dharma,’ Govinda pointed out, ‘that you meant to attack no one? That no matter what, you would not let this end in bloodshed?’

  For a while, no one spoke or moved. Finally, Dhrstyadymn drew on his new position as Commander to ask, ‘What do you suggest we do, Govinda?’

  ‘What can we do? We have no choice. In three days’ time, we head for Kurukshetra.’

  25

  ‘KURUKSHETRA. IT DOESN’T SOUND LIKE THE STRATEGY OF CHOICE for a man who wants peace. It is, after all, the ideal battlefield – remote enough from all human settlement to not cause wanton destruction and the loss of noncombatant life, yet strategic enough to give the winning side control over Central Aryavarta.’

  Govinda did not look up, but continued to sort through the parchments before him as he said, ‘What now, Panchali?’

  The room was silent, all the more so for the numerous voices and opinions that had filled it just a while ago during the War Council. The leaders had left, some not as fully convinced as Govinda would have liked them to be. Nevertheless, they were all committed. Already, a clamour had set in outside Chief Virat’s palace as shouted-out orders were executed by the gathered armies to one end: In three days’ time they would march to Kurukshetra.

  Inside the palace, however, it was cool and quiet, and Govinda was glad of that. All he could hear was the occasional rustle when gusts of wind teased the corners of the map he had spread out before him and now, Panchali’s light footfall as she walked into the room.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said, coming closer.

  ‘I mean, I can’t remember the last time I did something to your satisfaction.’

  Panchali clucked her tongue. ‘I had no idea you were trying to please me, Govinda. I’d have looked more kindly upon you.’

  Govinda did not smile, but the strained lines on his face disappeared. ‘I’m too old to try to please a woman and gain her favour, Panchali. What you see before you is a man domesticated into obedience, a creature of habitual submission.’

  ‘Submission? You? Aren’t you the bull that can’t be tamed?’ She laughed out loud.

  Govinda did not join in. He stood up straight and crossed his arms. ‘Do you doubt me too?’

  ‘No, I don’t doubt that you’d…you’d…’

  ‘That I’d what?’ Govinda snapped, finally turning away from his parchments.

  ‘That you’d lay waste to Aryavarta for me…’ Panchali dully said.

  ‘You are Aryavarta, Panchali. This Empire has been tormented and violated the way you have been. I cannot see the difference between the two anymore. I cannot bear to let it go on. This is rebellion. This is revolution.’

  ‘Spare me your wordplay, Govinda.’ Panchali said as she threw herself into a chair and idly reached out for one of the parchments. She studied it briefly and then let it fall from her hand. ‘We’ve had numerous conversations such as this one and we both know where they lead. There is nothing I can say that will change your mind.’

  ‘Then why do you persist?’

  ‘Because I must do what I must do.’

  ‘As do I. But go on. You know I love to hear your thoughts.’

  Panchali was solemn. She knew it would come to nothing, but she could not help but speak. ‘Then listen,’ she said. ‘True rebellion takes courage of a different sort. True rebellion takes letting go. Do you have the courage to let go, Govinda, to destroy power rather than claim it for your own, admittedly noble, ends?’

  Govinda considered the woman before him, wondering at her strength and courage as he had several times before. He reached out to tuck in a stray curl of Panchali’s long hair behind her ear, but the wayward strand soon slipped back on to her face. Govinda pushed it away yet again, this time letting his fingers linger on the skin of Panchali’s neck.

  He said, ‘Do you remember anything, Panchali? I mean, from before the fire… Do you remember who you were?’

  Panchali gasped. It was no secret that she and Dhrstyadymn were King Dhrupad’s adopted children, the sole survivors of a fire that had taken all traces of their past, including their memories, with it. It was a topic Govinda had taken care to avoid all mention of, even in casual conversation. Panchali had always assumed that he was simply being considerate though, she had thought, excessively so. She now concluded that there was another reason for his recalcitrance on the matter. ‘You’ve never asked me that in all these years, Govinda! You’ve never spoken to me about it.’ She sprung up from her chair. ‘You… You know who I am, don’t you? You’ve always known! By Rudra, Govinda, how could you not…’

  ‘Because,’ Govinda cut in, soft yet firm, ‘because, as far as I’m concerned, you were not born of that fire or made by it. You were unmade; you were reforged.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Govinda looked into the dark eyes that searched his face for answers. He chose his words carefully. ‘We are defined by what we learn, Panchali, by experience and wisdom.
The problem is the same experiences that inform and educate us through childhood and youth also bind us. We become biased in ways we don’t know. But you… You are pure wisdom, pure knowledge. The fire left you your memory of information, but no memory of your emotions. You knew things, but you had no context for them; you spoke of prosperity and gain, but without any understanding of your own self-interest. Yes, over the years you have changed, but the core of that unmarked parchment, that guileless reason, remains. And that is why you have been special to me, more so after the fire that wrought you than before…’ He trailed off, unable and unwilling to finish. At length, he added, ‘When this is over, when it’s all over, ask me again, and I will tell you. That is, if you still want me to.’

  Panchali stared at Govinda. Questions formed in her eyes, not about who she was or where she had come from, because all that seemed irrelevant in the face of the fact that she had once known him or, at least, that he had known her. She wanted to hear him speak of what they had been, what they had shared, she wanted him to confirm that the nameless bond between them had once had a name, that it had once been beyond question of propriety or fault. But before the questions left her lips she realized that was precisely what made what they now shared all the more precious. A bond that was nameless, formless, undefined, of endless potential, unfettered by systems and scripture. It was the purest affection there could be, not unlike Govinda’s love for humanity.

  Panchali felt a poignant, solemn joy, fill her entire being. Once, Govinda had told her that she made him believe in all that was good and worth protecting. Now she understood. Willingly, Panchali let go of all sense of self, past and present, becoming nothing more than an idea, Govinda’s idea, his hope.

  ‘No, Govinda,’ she said. ‘I do not want to know. I do not need to know. I think the very fact that you have known but kept it from me, from us all, explains much. I can venture a guess, but I don’t want to. I am what I am. It is enough.’

  Govinda struggled not to show emotion, though his eyes glistened, moist. ‘Panchali, I’d swear you are me and I am you. By Govardhan, it feels like I am looking into a still lake on a clear day and seeing my own reflection. If someone had heard only of my thoughts, my words and did not know who I was, and then one day they met you, they’d think you were Govinda Shauri.’