AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (56 page)

“Suyodhana, I have failed you. I failed Karna,” said Aswathama. Suyodhana did not want to face him. “Suyodhana, Bhima killed Sushasana a short while ago. Your brother fought to the last. Bhima downed him with a kick to the groin. He tore Sushasana’s arm from his shoulder. When Sushasana raised his other arm in defiance, Bhima cut off both his hands. Still, Sushasana did not utter a cry of pain. He spat in Bhima’s face and laughed at him. Can you believe that? Enraged, Bhima tore open Sushasana’s chest and drank his blood. Then Draupadi, too, came to drink Sushasana’s blood. The rage that woman carried within her! She finally bound her hair after thirteen years, having first dipped it in your brother’s blood. She could not stop laughing.”

“Enough, Aswathama!” snapped Kripa.

“They killed Karna when he was helpless. They killed my father with a lie. They killed Bhishma through deceit. They killed Sushasana with a foul kick... should we allow them to win after all this? If they win, no one will ever believe in
dharma
again.”

“Aswathama, my friend, get away from here. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Save yourself to fight another day. Carry the flag for all of us,” Suyodhana said, looking into the distance where the sky dissolved into the lake. “Can’t you hear the victory celebrations from their camp? Bhishma still waits for death on his bed of arrows, but they do not care. Mercifully, everything will be over soon.”

“Kritavarma and Aswathama want revenge. I have been trying to talk sense into them. Nothing good will come of such foolishness,” Kripa said with utter certainty.

“The celebrations in the Pandava camp will not last long,” vowed Aswathama, gritting his teeth.

“Suyodhana, this rash fool will not listen to me,” Kripa said.

“Aswathama, they will not treat you harshly. You are a Brahmin and they know what they did to your father. I have to fight to the end but you must survive, for all of us, for
dharma
to win,” Suyodhana said to his friend.

“So you think I should become their
Rajaguru,
like my father? You think they will spare me because I am a Brahmin? Do you really think I want to lead such a life after what they have done to you, to Karna, to countless others?”

Suyodhana wanted to tell Aswathama to leave the past behind, but the bitterness in his heart refused to go away. It was through a travesty of justice that the Pandavas had won the war and he was hiding like a water rat. Suyodhana scooped up some water and looked at Aswathama. His friend waded into the water and stood before him. The image of the wispy Brahmin boy whom he had saved from Bhima years before rushed to his mind, choking him with tears.

Perhaps Aswathama was remembering the same thing for he said with a crooked smile, “That mango you gave me years ago...”

“You never got to eat it, though. Ekalavya snatched it from you.” They laughed. The mention of Ekalavya brought back bitter memories. No, it was not justice that the Pandavas had won everything. Suyodhana poured the water over Aswathama saying, “I appoint you Commander-in-Chief of the Kaurava army.
Vijayi Bhava!”

Kripa snorted. “A Commander-in-Chief of an army of three!”

Aswathama hugged Suyodhana. “Don’t hate me when you hear what I have done.”

“I will be dead by then, my friend. But you still have a chance to go back and claim the exalted life of a
Rajaguru.”

Aswathama dunked under the water and stayed there for some time. When he emerged, the sun was rising out of the blood-red lake. The Brahmin took water in his trembling palms and recited the holy
Gayatri mantra.
Mist rolled down from the distant hills and countless birds swooped around in the rushes by the lake. It was a beautiful day. A good day to die.

Suyodhana closed his eyes as Aswathama touched his shoulder. He heard the splash of water as his friend climbed out onto dry land. A cold breeze carrying the stench of blood and decaying flesh from the battlefield caressed him. He thought of the patriarch still lying on his tortuous bed of arrows, waiting for the spring solstice, waiting to die. ‘Forgive me, Pitamaha, I never knew your worth when it mattered,’ thought Suyodhana. In his mind, he was still the little boy who had sat on Pitamaha’s lap, embarrassed to kiss the old man in public. The bristle of his beard, the smell of the sandalwood paste on Bhishma’s forehead – a thousand memories...priceless...useless.

“There he is!”

Suyodhana prayed for courage. They had found him. He opened his eyes to see Krishna sitting in his charioteer’s seat, caressing his whip and smiling at him. How he wished he could have wiped that smirk off the Yadava’s face. Behind him stood his enemies, smug in victory. No, not all of them. A shade of distress clouded Yudhishtra’s eyes and Arjuna’s brow was furrowed with worry. Why did he not get down from his chariot? Suyodhana could hear people rushing in from all sides. Drummers came running, preparing for a bloody show. Overcome by sorrow and pain, Suyodhana watched his subjects jostle and push each other to watch him die. Some looked sad but most of them seemed excited to be present at the kill. Nothing was more entertaining than the fall of a great man.

The crowd parted for Dhaumya. “Come out of the water, you coward!” Dhaumya drove his staff into the slushy earth and the crowd cheered.

Suyodhana raised his head, his eyes blazing with their old fire. Dhaumya took a step back, trying to free his staff from the mud. Suyodhana came out of the water, tying his hair into a topknot. He shook the water from his body and slapped his thighs. Dhaumya disappeared into the crowd, leaving his staff of office behind. As Suyodhana bent to touch the ground and say a silent prayer, the crowd fell silent. He picked up his mace from the mud, wiped it clean and placing it on his shoulder, walked up to drier ground. On the way, he crushed Dhaumya’s staff like a twig.

Thunder clapped overhead and dark clouds swirled from the southern horizon. The wind howled, snapping the gnarled branches off dried trees. Huge waves from the lake smashed against the rocks on shore and shattered like dreams. A surge of water rushed ashore, hugged Suyodhana’s legs and then returned to its cold abode in the lake. Like the tears of heavens, drops of rain began to fall. The parched earth, drunk with blood for eighteen days, drank the cleansing rain like a thirsty beast.

The panicked cry of an owl filled the air. Suyodhana looked up and saw a group of crows chasing it. Bad omens! But he had arrived at a point where he no longer cared about omens, good or bad...or anything else. Suyodhana stood with his heavy mace on his shoulder, waiting for any of the Pandavas to make the first move.

*****

74
   
O
ORUBHANGA

“WHY NOT SURRENDER, DURYODHANA?”
Krishna asked.

Suyodhana neither looked at Krishna nor responded to him.

“Surrender, and we shall spare your life. We may even give you a vassal state to rule. You surely know your time is done.”

Suyodhana ignored Krishna and stood staring at Yudhishtra. “Who is first? I can also take on all five of you together.” If his cousin had expected him to plead for peace and accept his suzerainty, he was living in his own fantasy. An owl fluttered above, blinded by daylight, struggling to reach the darkness of the forest. Somewhere, a dog howled.

“Choose one among us. If you win, the throne of Hastinapura is yours,” Yudhishtra said. The son of
dharma
had gambled again.

Suyodhana could not help smiling when he saw the expression on Krishna’s face. Destiny was giving him one more chance. He walked up to Yudhishtra and gazed at him from head to toe. It would have been a simple matter to pick Yudhishtra for a duel with maces and smash his head to pieces. He moved on to Arjuna’s chariot and said clearly, “Karna...Drona...Bhishma...” Arjuna turned away, ashamed. The twins, Nakul and Sahadeva, blessed with perpetual boyish good looks, stood straight as arrows under Suyodhana’s gaze. ‘Men who refused to grow up,’ he thought as he turned away. ‘Tchaw!’

“I choose Bhima,” Suyodhana said. The tension eased out of Krishna’s face. It was a duel Suyodhana had always yearned to fight, a childhood dream nourished from the time he had hidden under his blind father’s bed, quivering in fear of his hefty cousin.

‘Bhanu, Karna, Aswathama... strengthen my arms.’ The crowd parted as Suyodhana moved to the centre. It was silent except for the chirping of birds.

Bhima picked up his mace and walked forward to face Suyodhana. “Kill him, Bhima! Kill the devil!” Draupadi’s voice rose into the air like a shrill chant. The crowd roared with excitement and the drums began to beat.

Bhima charged like an elephant. Suyodhana ducked at the last moment and Bhima lost his balance. Suyodhana’s mace connected with Bhima’s shoulder, drawing admiration from the crowd. Bhima spun around and hit back. Suyodhana blocked him. The power of Bhima’s mace was shocking. Suyodhana countered Bhima’s brute strength with agility. Bhima brought down his mace again and again, smashing the ground. Suyodhana dodged and danced back, landing powerful hits on Bhima’s shoulders and chest. In excitement, the frenzied crowd began calling each warrior’s name in turn, urging each one to kill the other...smash the head, crush the chest and batter the face. The drumming rose to a deafening pitch.

In time, both warriors began to show signs of fatigue but neither gave up. Suyodhana’s hits started to affect Bhima. There was no doubt in the spectators’ minds about who was the more skilful and who the stronger. Skill against power, agility against force, the duel raged on as though there was no end.

The chance came when Bhima stumbled. Suyodhana rushed in to smash Bhima’s head. From the corner of his eye, he saw Krishna tapping his thigh with his flute. What trick did the Yadava hide behind his smile? The answer came as binding pain shot through his thigh. Suyodhana staggered and fell. Bhima had hit him below the waist, against all rules of duelling, and shattered his thigh. Suyodhana collapsed onto the ground in pain and anger. Treachery! Deceit! Bastard!

An uneasy silence fell on the crowd. They had all seen the dastardly act committed by the big Pandava. Yudhishtra closed his eyes in anguish and Arjuna jumped down from the chariot, his heart pounding, his face grim. Where had honour fled?

Suyodhana tried to get up on his other leg but fell back helplessly. Bhima’s legs were so near. With a swing of the mace he could bring down his opponent and pay him back in the same coin. But he could not do that, he was a Kaurava,
ajaya,
unconquerable. Suyodhana grunted in pain. The leg had swollen. ‘Hold on, hold on...’ he thought silently, willing himself to find the courage to go on. Painfully, Suyodhana raised himself using his mace and stood on one leg. Suddenly, he landed a powerful blow on Bhima’s face, smashing his front teeth. Suyodhana looked at Krishna and laughed.

“Bhima, smash his other thigh!” Dhaumya shouted from the safety of the crowd.

Bhima swung his mace again and brought it down on Suyodhana’s other leg. Suyodhana refused to fall, refused to cry in pain. He stood with his head held high as Bhima swung his mace again and cracked his thighbone. Slowly, like a giant tree being axed, Suyodhana fell to the ground. His head hit the ground, splashing earth all around. Bhima’s face leered above him as the noises blurred and darkness claimed the eldest Kaurava.

Dhaumya and his group of priests cried out at the top of their voices, ‘Dharma has won!’ The Guru raised his arms and his disciples danced around the unconscious Suyodhana, singing, “We have vanquished evil.
Dharma
has won.”

Suyodhana opened his eyes with great effort. The pain shooting from his thighs was excruciating.
Dharma
had won? Suyodhana could stand the pain but not such a blatant untruth. Where was that Yadava who had brought this upon him? Where was Krishna, who had pointed out his thigh to Bhima? Suyodhana turned his head and saw Krishna standing with his arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face. Speaking was an effort but speak he would to the Yadava who had brought death and destruction to his country and people. Like a cobra whose tail has been smashed, but which retains life in its head, Suyodhana raised himself on his powerful arms and glared at Krishna. “Satisfied now, Yadava? Until the world lasts, people will remember your deceit and cruelty. Is there one rule your side has not broken or one warrior the Pandavas killed fairly?”

Suyodhana turned his head to towards Yudhishtra and laughed wearily. “Yudhishtra, you think you have won? How will you sleep in peace hereafter? Your father…no, not your father, for you do not know who your father is, but your mother’s husband cheated my blind father of his birthright for many years. Now you have done the same to me. Yet you claim to believe in
dharma?”

Suyodhana faced Krishna. “You have more tongues than Ananta when you speak of one’s duty. You preach
dharma,
but you do not follow it. I was born a Kshatriya, lived as a Kshatriya and I will die a Kshatriya. I was an ordinary man, no
avatar,
but as a ruler, I cared for all, never discriminating against anyone. I never had to roam the forests like the man who claims to be
dharmaputra.
No one ever dared to raise a finger against my wife or brothers. You had to beg for my mercy to save your wayward son, Krishna, but my son died in battle for me. I had the great Bhishma, Guru Drona, Karna, and many others, give their lives for me. Now I follow them like a true Kshatriya. I kept my word to Pitamaha and never broke any of the rules of war. Warriors were willing to die for me despite your threats of hell. You could not even convince your own Narayana Sena to fight against me. They died for me, Krishna, for they believed
dharma
was on my side. Your people died for me, Yadava. Think about that and then consider the
dharma
that you preach.”