The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 Read online

  Asvattama crossed his hands over his chest. ‘If I were Dharma Yudhisthir, I might use the death – no, the selfless sacrifice of Govinda Shauri – to legitimize and sanctify my rule and the rule of my heirs for all time to come. And if I were Govinda Shauri, those are the exact instructions I would leave behind, particularly when I know that my sister’s son is the heir in question. But then, I am neither, and I cannot say for sure what Dharma or Govinda intend. It may well be that Dharma has no knowledge of Govinda’s actions, or that Govinda’s actions are indeed selfless. But neither option helps the cause of Divine Order, the system that has brought this realm its current glory…’

  ‘In that case why not tell me plainly that I am bound to refuse Govinda’s offer? All you and Acharya Suka have for me are riddles and veiled words!’

  Before Asvattama could reply, Dussasan burst into the tent, followed by the other commanders of Syoddhan’s army. ‘Yabha! What in Rudra’s name is going on?’ Dussasan said.

  Syoddhan said, ‘I had sent Asvattama to seek Acharya Suka’s counsel.’

  ‘Counsel? What for? If you ask me, we should say we accept the so-called peace offer Govinda has sent. And the moment that bastard Yadu’s decapitated body slumps to the ground, we should attack the rest of them and be rid of them all!’

  ‘Vathu, Dussasan!’ Both Syoddhan and Bhisma snapped at the same time. Exchanging glances of pleasant surprise with his nephew, Bhisma signalled to him to continue.

  Syoddhan turned his attention back to his brother. ‘We fight this war, Dussasan, because Dharma does not deserve to rule. I won’t have us making a mockery of it by dishonouring ourselves. Keep your stupid ideas to yourself!’

  ‘Where does that leave us, Syoddhan?’ Jayadrath intervened, his voice dripping venom. ‘I still don’t trust that cowherd. No man, not even a crass manipulator like Govinda Shauri, would suffer the ignominy of surrender, leave alone propose it as a term of peace.’

  ‘What does it say about us, then, if we accept?’ Asvattama muttered.

  ‘What did you say?’ Dron snapped, as always critical of his son.

  ‘Nothing, Father.’

  Syoddhan, however, had heard, and it reminded him of something else Asvattama had said, not too long ago: What if the Wrights had the courage to destroy that part of themselves they believed bred hatred and violence, and wanted to leave only the part of their knowledge that brought about peace and prosperity. What if Govinda Shauri was no traitor, but one such rebel? Does that not change things entirely?

  What if, Syoddhan wondered, Govinda was right. It was not Dharma Yudhisthir alone who was the problem, but the very system, the way of the world around them, which had permitted him to act the way he had. Was it not right to tear down such a system than to merely resist one tyrant who abused his power? But could he rely on Govinda to want to do that? Could any man be trusted to decide the fate of an entire realm with selflessness and objectivity? But who then ever could? Did such questions have answers? Who is to say what is illusion and what is reality?

  Syoddhan started as he caught himself echoing Suka’s words. Out loud he said, ‘Frankly, what disgusts me the most about this situation is Dharma’s cowardice; how he hides behind Govinda Shauri, living or dead. Yabha! It galls me to think of negotiating with such a pathetic excuse for an emperor!’

  ‘Unless we don’t.’ A voice, hitherto unheard, emerged from a corner of the tent. Shakuni chose his words with a discreet grace, as though he were making a request, not offering advice. ‘What if we don’t negotiate? And what if we play this game on our terms?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Reject the proposal of peace. Call Dharma out for the coward he is. Let them come begging to avert war. Let them make that move.’

  ‘And if they don’t?’ Jayadrath asked.

  ‘They will,’ Bhisma insisted. ‘I have faith in my grandson Dharma. He will not forsake Divine Order. He will see what needs be done.’

  Syoddhan felt a pang of regret, a mild envy that despite the bond he and Bhisma had formed in recent times there was no denying that the Grandsire still nurtured affection for Dharma. He turned away, trying to hide his disappointment while the others continued to argue the matter.

  Shakuni said, ‘If they don’t, they don’t. It would be, quite literally, their funeral. And that realization will not be lost on Dharma. He’d be a fool to risk war.’

  ‘It’s too dangerous a plan, Shakuni,’ Vasusena objected. ‘Have you seen the men who have come to fight, to die, for Dharma Yudhisthir? The people of this realm have had enough of being puppets in the hands of divinely ordained rulers. We have a chance at peace; no, we have a chance at more… a chance at change! We cannot afford to let our suspicion and mistrust destroy that chance.’

  ‘Quiet, charioteer!’ Bhisma said. ‘Trust you to ignore all thought of Divine Order and duty. What warrior is he who fears war, particularly when he has the upper hand? It is true, I suppose, that we can put the best of astra-weapons in a Suta’s hands but we cannot fill his veins with our noble blood.’

  ‘Grandsire, just because I desire peace does not mean that I fear war…’ Vasusena began to argue, as politely as he could. Asvattama gave a sigh of impatience, while Jayadrath, Dussasan and Shakuni surrounded Syoddhan and urged him to destroy Dharma and Govinda, and all those who stood with them.

  Syoddhan tried to listen, to respond, but as the cacophony of animated debates, protests, justifications and pronouncements filled the tent, he found himself wishing he were elsewhere, in a place free of discord, a place where there was peace, within and without. An image came to him, and he did not know if it was memory or simply wishful imagination, but he thought of a day, long ago, in the palace of Hastina. A bright and sunny day. He had been just a boy on his grandfather’s lap, listening wide-eyed to tales of valour and glory. His heart filled with longing for a simple life he would never again know, Syoddhan reached his decision.

  32

  ‘I KNEW YOU WERE A STRANGE MAN, GOVINDA, BUT SURELY TO sleep so well-dressed and with your sword at your side is… unusual… even for you?’

  Govinda chuckled as he made a final adjustment to the sword-belt at his waist. He turned to Daruka, who was helping him, and said, ‘Thank you, my friend.’

  ‘Is that all for now, Commander?’ Daruka asked.

  Govinda smiled at him and said, ‘That is all.’

  He waited till Daruka had left before he turned to his visitor. Panchali stood leaning against the pole near the entrance to Govinda’s tent, her hair billowing in the night breeze that swept down without fail after dusk, from the hills beyond the plain of Kuru’s Fields. ‘I didn’t think I’d be sleeping tonight, Panchali,’ he said, as though it were natural for him to not do so.

  ‘I’d ask what nocturnal adventures you have planned, but surely your debauched escapades aren’t meant for my ears?’

  Govinda laughed, hearty. ‘Oh, admit it! You’d just be jealous if you heard of my adventures,’ he teased as he walked up to her. They stood smiling at each other for a while, lost in shared memories of good times and happy banter. At length, Govinda said, ‘Well? Dharma sends for me, I assume?’

  ‘Yes,’ Panchali affirmed. ‘We have a visitor. One I think you’ve been expecting, from your state of readiness. Come.’

  The two walked in silence to the Command Tent, and entered. Govinda was not at all surprised to find it full despite the late muhurtta, nor was he discomfited by the sombre, mournful expressions on many of the faces. Yuyudhana and Shikandin both looked angry. The visitor, whom Panchali had mentioned, alone was cheerful.

  ‘Govinda.’ Dharma stood to greet him. ‘You might know our visitor, Uluka, son of Shakuni of Gandhara. He brings a reply from Syoddhan, apparently to a message that you had sent, with Dhaumya. We…that is…all of us…have heard him and…’

  Govinda said, ‘If it is peace on terms you find favourable, accept it…my liege. I promised you that it is not war I drag you into. I also promised you that I would abide by y
our decisions without question. To that I hold.’

  The declaration prompted a wheezing laugh from the waiting Uluka. Govinda glanced at the messenger. For all that was said about Shakuni, he had a grace about him that his son completely lacked. ‘Hold your peace, Uluka,’ Govinda said. ‘You will soon have your chance to laugh. For now, this is Dharma Yudhisthir’s court and you are in his presence. Behave yourself!’

  Uluka cut short his laughter and took an instinctive step backwards. Govinda turned back to Dharma and placed his hands on the former emperor’s shoulders. ‘I have always been your friend, Dharma. Even now I believe you are the one chance Aryavarta has, which is why I have done this without your approval. Whatever happens next, I believe that you can set this realm and its people free of the shackles of hierarchy, return to them the fundamental dignity that is theirs.’

  Dharma brought his arms up to mirror Govinda’s stance, the gesture evidence that he felt no anger for the other man. ‘You know the message Uluka brings?’

  ‘I can guess the crux of it. As for the details…as I said, if they are acceptable to you, they are acceptable to me.’

  ‘You had sent a new proposal to Syoddhan, containing terms that had not been presented before. You asked him to vitiate my wagers on the grounds that I had no right to make them; that my empire was built on the efforts of a traitor, a renegade Firewright, who is an enemy to all Aryavarta. Thus you deem my rule invalid. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘By the same token, you deem the realm and her people free of allegiance to any emperor… No matter how one construes the outcome of all that has happened; no matter who rules, you deem the people free of subservience.’

  ‘Yes, those were my requests.’

  ‘You also asked that I be reinstated as King of Western Kuru, as I once had been, in keeping with the wishes of the people of Western Kuru. Once that is agreed to, in my authority as King, I am to denounce, punish and execute this renegade Firewright.’

  Govinda nodded. ‘A man who nearly brought this realm to war deserves to be executed. You, Dharma Yudhisthir the just, the righteous, will understand.’

  Dharma fixed Govinda with a curious stare. ‘I have a fleeting memory of similar words, Govinda. In fact, they were instrumental in prompting me to claim imperial dominion. It was the very same Firewright who said them then.’

  ‘Dharma, I…’

  Dharma held up a silencing hand. He gently pushed Govinda aside and addressed Uluka. ‘Tell us, once again, Uluka, how Syoddhan responds to these terms.’

  Uluka grinned, his resemblance to his father quite distinct in that moment. ‘His Highness rejects them. He rejects your offer of conciliation. He bid me tell you that he is in no mood for barter with eunuchs and cowards who speak of peace under the protection of renegade Firewrights; nor does he have patience for these pretended assurances of surrender and justice. He commands me to say to Dharma Yudhisthir: “Fight, if you dare.” King Syoddhan for one shall not shame himself by making peace with those who have neither courage nor honour.’

  ‘What!’ The exclamation came from several of those present, including a horrified Govinda.

  Bhim snarled and bounded up from his seat, but at a firm glance from Dharma remained where he was.

  ‘Agraja, maybe if you were to send Syoddhan a message of your own, showing your interest in this peace accord…’ Partha began as Govinda looked, concerned, from one man to the other.

  ‘Vathu!’ Dharma said, his voice soft but commanding. He then turned to Uluka. ‘Thank you, Uluka. Tell my cousin Syoddhan that we shall meet on the battlefield tomorrow. You will also tell Syoddhan that I mean to face him on the strength of righteousness and righteousness alone. No Firewright will bear arms in my name. Certainly not Govinda Shauri.’

  ‘Dharma…’ Govinda began, but Dharma ignored him.

  ‘That is my final decision. Partha, please see Uluka out and ensure his safe departure from our camp. The rest of you: leave. We have a war to fight in the morning, and we must be prepared.’

  A stunned Govinda stood as he was, fighting back the sudden, unrecognized desire to let tears brim. How, after all that he had done, all that he had been prepared to do, how had it come to this? Had he misjudged the situation so badly? Uluka had come, exactly as expected, but Syoddhan’s rejection of the peace terms was incomprehensible.

  He realized the Command Tent was silent and empty save for him, Panchali, Partha and Dharma. Govinda inhaled in a loud gasp, as though he had forgotten to breathe, and turned to the former emperor. Dharma sat calm and composed on his symbolic throne, waiting for the inevitable.

  ‘I don’t understand…’ Govinda confessed.

  Dharma laughed, his response ambiguous in that it was neither warm nor chilling. ‘Neither do I, Govinda. But I am glad he rejected your terms. Dharma the Righteous, you called me. That is who I am. I once told you that I was duty-bound to stand against Syoddhan, for I alone remained free of allegiance to him. It was why I agreed to your plan, to the feint of war. Even so, I cautioned you against bloodshed, and you gave me your assurance that it would not come to that. You have proved your loyalty and intent by your actions, Govinda. It is not your fault that you have failed, and so I could not have made you the sacrificial animal by spilling whose blood we celebrate peace. I am glad.’ Before Govinda could say another word, Dharma stood up and left the tent. Partha followed, solemn but for the storm of uncertainty in his eyes.

  It took Govinda a few moments to notice that Panchali had remained behind, and a few moments more to register that her behaviour at the beginning of the evening had been quite inconsistent with the turn of events. Not only had she not shown the grim, confused astonishment that most of the others had greeted him with, she had also been positively cheerful when she had met him in his tent.

  He turned to her, his gaze accusatory and searing. Her dark eyes met his with certitude.

  33

  PANCHALI WALKED TO A NEARBY CHAIR, SAT DOWN AND PREPARED to face what she knew would come next.

  ‘How could you!’ Govinda spat out.

  She did not reply.

  ‘Who else knows?’ he demanded.

  ‘Knows what?’

  ‘The one secret you had to barter, the one secret big enough to get the Secret Keeper to intervene. Don’t deny it, Panchali. He alone could have had the means and the influence to ensure that Syoddhan was advised to turn down an offer that was meant to be irresistible, and that too against all counsel to the contrary from those he respects and listens to! So tell me: Who knows?’

  ‘Vidur.’

  ‘And?’

  Panchali hesitated.

  ‘And? Speak!’ Govinda barked.

  ‘Shikandin. He…I…I asked him to help me, and he sent word to Vidur through Asvattama.’

  ‘Yabha! I swear you lot will be the death of me!’ Govinda swore.

  The statement drew a fleeting but unmistakable smile from Panchali. ‘That’s a poor choice of words…given the circumstances.’

  Govinda was not amused. ‘And Dhrstyadymn?’

  ’No. He… I was not sure how he’d react. He’s…confused, these days. I did think of telling Dharma, though…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh calm down, Govinda! He’d be the last person to talk about it. I doubt he wishes to share this shameful secret of who his wife was… is… It would, no doubt, tarnish his precious Firstborns’ reputation beyond redemption.’

  Govinda strode up to Panchali, face contorted with rage. ‘Do you know what a huge risk you took? And do you have any idea how terrible the consequences will now be?’ His voice was a shout as he continued, ‘One man. Me! That’s all it would have taken but, no, Empress Panchali can’t bear to part with her …’

  ‘Her what, Govinda?’ Panchali’s tone was chilling. ‘Her toy? Her slave? Her lo…’

  ‘Don’t be disgusting!’ Govinda let the rage flow out of him in a rush. ‘Then why, Panchali? Why?’

  Panchali sighed, as thou
gh she had rehearsed the explanation several times over. ‘You told me to remember that Narayana would never forsake his Sri. You told me to remember that when you were gone.’

  ‘So you…’

  ‘Wait, listen to me! I do not know from which life of mine this question comes, but whenever I have heard that story I have wondered: What is the point of gods who behave like human beings, sentimental human beings? Narayana kept Sri safely hidden even when the world nearly came to an end, for the celestials and demons were at war for a thousand years over her. It seems irrational, does it not? All he had to do was surrender her, forsake her if you will, and a great number of lives would have been saved. But he did not. Why not, Govinda?’

  ‘Because, Panchali, to forsake Sri would be to forsake the essence of existence itself.’

  ‘Charming, grand words. But how was existence saved by letting the celestials slaughter each other, not to mention allowing the demons to torment all creatures?’

  ‘This argument is futile. You’ve totally spoilt my plan, Panchali.’

  ‘The argument is the same. What is existence, Govinda? The sum total of mortal, transient creatures who breathe in and out at this instant? Or is it the concept of life itself? Narayana refused to forsake Sri because she was the essence of existence. But what meaning does that essence have if existence is not an eternal force? Don’t you see, without Narayana, there is no Sri. You, in turn, are the symbol of the revolution that will transform Aryavarta; you are the one who has brought us to this. I do not claim that you are some god or hero, but to use your own words, you are a product of Time. As am I.’

  ‘And this is why you…?’ Govinda said, incredulous.

  Panchali shrugged. ‘That, and the simple fact that sacrificing you to stop bloodshed is meaningless. It would not achieve the revolution, the change you want. Peace is one thing, revolution is another. You were either impatient or highly optimistic to think one would lead to the other.’

  ‘Would it not?’

  ‘No, Govinda, not yet. Bringing the people of Aryavarta to Kurukshetra is a display of their power, but not of their intent. They came here for a cause. Don’t you think the world needs to see, to hear that cause?’