KRISHNA CORIOLIS#6: Fortress of Dwarka (25 page)

And yet, here they were, the nation of Yadavas, on a great island-fortress, in the middle of the vast ocean. But it was different: they never left the island, nor needed to. It was their world. They even had hill ranges, valleys, desert regions, a snowcapped peak or two…nobody knew how such variation was possible, but Dwarka contained a microcosm of the world entire. A generation city, that was the term Krishna used. “Like a craft designed to carry you and your descendants through time itself for an age to come,” he had said at their last city meeting.
 

In contrast, the tiny craft bobbing out there on the ocean, just a few dozen yards from the rocky edges of Dwarka, was a mere speck in the ocean. Bana could not see how many occupied it, or if any occupied it at all. The tatters of the sail obscured the boat itself from this height and angle, making it impossible to tell exactly but he thought that perhaps there could be one person on that craft, surely not more than two persons.
 

He could not even begin to understand who they were or what reason they might have to risk their lives in such a craft to come all the way here. But Krishna would.
 

5

The
occupant of the boat that braved the ocean sat before Krishna on a golden seat. Krishna had insisted that he take that seat while he himself sat on a lower stool beside the visitor.
 

The instant Krishna had received word of the boat, he had flown to the Wall in his own Pushpak driven by Daruka, leaving the astonished young Watcher far behind with his blinding speed. Daruka’s expert handling lowered the vaahan to the ocean beyond the Wall, as Bana was joined at his position by the curious young Vighneshwara. Both had watched as Krishna himself reached from his golden chariot into the boat, helping what appeared to be an elderly man into the vehicle. Then, the pushpak had risen up to just above the height of the Wall.
 

For a moment, as the Pushpak rose within easy view of the Wall, the pair of Watchers had seen the visitor from the boat. He appeared to be an elderly brahmin, quite worse the wear for his oceanic voyage.
 

Then the Pushpak had flashed past overhead and they had seen no more.
 

They exchanged a curious glance, united in that instant in a common brotherhood of ignorance and curiosity, wondering why a brahmin would be seafaring in a tiny boat but Bana had already warned the young man not to say a word about the incident or ask a question of anyone and the threat of Kanika-maasi still loomed formidably in the young apprentice’s memory. So he held his tongue and both senior and junior went about their daily chores which consisted almost entirely of walking the Wall and watching for any approaching or passing vessels.
 

In the years since Bana had been at this post, today had been the first time he had ever seen anything other than sea, sun, sky and birds and thereafter he saw nothing out of the unusual either. Soon that incident faded away into insignificance, to be added to a very long list of things inexplicable associated with Krishna.
 

Meanwhile, back in Krishna’s residence, the old brahmin was taken directly into Krishna’s private chambers, unseen and unnoticed by others. Krishna himself aided the weary man in washing and repairing himself from the rigors inflicted by the weeks he had spent drifting at sea. Krishna washed the old man’s feet then helped him wash his body of the salt and scum of the voyage, helped him sip some water slowly, dried and dressed him in his own garments, fed him some fruit, then bade him rest awhile to recover his strength.
 

Krishna watched over him personally as the old brahmin slept. At several points in the day and night that the old man was lost to the world, he tossed and turned and thrashed in Krishna’s bed, like a man tossed in a sea-storm. Krishna had fed him sips of sweet water and spoken to him soothingly till he fell back into sleep.
 

When the old priest rose from slumber, it was morning of the following day and he seemed a little better, the first steps taken on the road to recovery.
 

After a morning repast which Krishna insisted on serving and feeding him personally, the brahmin was finally ready to speak. Krishna was willing to wait until he was fully recovered but the priest insisted that his message was urgent and could not wait.
 

It was a miracle that he had found Dwarka at all, he said when he was able to speak.
 
There were times he had been certain he was about to die for he had never been on the ocean in his life leave alone made a voyage by boat. But he had sensed Krishna’s divine hand guiding him through the currents and shoals and reassuring him during the sea storms and had endured with the belief that the Lord would watch over him and bring him here safe. And here he was indeed, at the place which people said was a mythical city and not to be found by mortals on earth. Truly, it was a miracle.
 

This preamble ended, he introduced himself.
 

“My name is Sunanda,” he said, “I am a simple brahmin from the town of Kundina in the region called Amravarti. You have probably never even heard of it before.”
 

“It is in the kingdom of Vidarbha,” Krishna replied. “Ruled by Raja Bhishmaka.”

The brahmin looked surprised at first then smiled wanly. “What is not known to you, great Lord? Indeed, Raja Bhishmaka is titled king of Vidarbha. Although his eldest son Rukmi is king in all but name and has been for some years.” The brahmin sighed. “But I will not waste precious time on the politics of that region. It is not on the business of Vidarbha that I came here in search of you. It was at the urging of my mistress who bade me come and deliver a message unto you in her own words which I have memorized and wish to repeat pad-a-pad with your permission.”
 

Krishna nodded. “I shall hear the message with great pleasure. Your mistress is of course the daughter of King Bhishmaka and sister of the heir-apparent Prince Rukmi.”
 

“She is,” Sunanda replied. “She is Princess Rukmini and it is on her bidding that I come on this precarious mission.”
 

Krishna fell silent at the mention of the name. “Speak your message, I entreat, good brahmin. Speak it as if she herself said the words, and let it be as if she herself were here at this very moment, addressing me herself.”
 

Sunanda bowed his head once, then began speaking, and as he did so, Krishna closed his eyes and saw…

***

A woman as dark in aspect as himself, jet-black skin and luminous large doe-like eyes, only a few centimetres shorter than himself, strong and straight of limb and firm of flesh, perfect of joint and angle, comely in every respect, but astonishingly, breathtakingly beautiful when perceived in entirety. No lesser word could be used to describe her. She was a goddess. A dark devi of great power and appetites, rich in passion, possessed of formidable talents and wisdom, a Mistress of Worlds.
 

Lakshmi
,
he said in his mind, and she smiled and turned away coyly from him, dropping to her haunches, glancing back over her shoulder as she bent to pick up a lotus in full bloom, dripping with diamond-bright dew.
 

My Lord, what use is subterfuge between you and I? I am trapped in this mortal form as are you in your’s. Yet we both know who we truly are. Who can deny the essential and the vital? I am your’s and you are mine and so will it be throughout time. Only our forms and identities may change to suit our purposes but our souls remain united in love eternally.
 

Until now, I lived this mortal life contentedly, waiting for I knew not what. But now the web from my eyes has been lifted. I see the truth of our essences. And knowing the truth, I cannot bear to be apart from you any longer.
 

Nor I from you
, Krishna replied, reaching out his hand to her as she stood, offering him the lotus flower.
 

But she turned away, taking one, two, three slow steps from him. Her silver anklets and waistlet tinkled. Her hips swayed as she stepped around the pool beside which they both stood, bathed in moonlight.
In order for us to be united, you will have to come and take possession of me from my father’s house. She looked up at him, her sight direct, her expression serious. By force. For my brother has made an alliance and means to give me away against my will. But it must not be.
 

Krishna turned the hand he had offered into a fist, drawing it closer to his body, tightening it until the bones snapped and crackled.
I shall come and do what must be done. I sense not only your brother’s part in this but another’s as well. An old and formidable foe.
 

She nodded.
It is so. But remember, it must be soon and you must come and fetch me or else I will be married against my will to Sisupala, son of Damaghosa.
 

Never,
Krishna said, his own aspect turning dark and fearsome, his eyes blazing out golden flames. The water in the pond evaporated as before a great raging blaze, the lotus flowers shrivelled and turned to ashen husks, the trees of the dark jungle surrounding them were blasted into scorched fragments. Even the moon turned dark and bloody.
No jackal shall touch the mate of a lion, lotus-eyed one. I shall come and I shall do what must be done. I, Vishnu have said so.
 

She smiled, her eyes brimming with tears of relief.
I am relieved. I had feared that perhaps your mission in this avatar might require you to leave me unprotected, to ignore my plight in order to serve some greater mortal good. After all,
she said as tears trickled down her dark cheeks,
you serve dharma above all other masters and mistresses.
 

Krishna’s anger abated.
Never, my beloved, he said. I serve dharma, it is true, I am but a Sword of Dharma sent to serve its purpose here on earth. But to protect you is also my dharma. I shall come. And I shall do--

Yes,
she said, interrupting him.
For if there was a person in the three worlds who could dare to interrupt Vishnu or Krishna, it was she. I am glad you shall come. Now pay heed to my words. I have crafted a plan that will serve our ends. You need only follow it and all will be well. Listen well and communicate the details to my bhraatr-in-law Gada as well. Tell him, bring his mace!
 

She paused to wipe the tears from her face and casually flicked the moisture aside. It fell to the ground and on the spot where it fell, the trees that had been blasted to withered sticks grew instantly fresh and lush, the pond appeared again, as crystalline as before, the lotus flowers bloomed, and the moon was clear and cleansed of blood. All was as before.
 

Then Vishnu listened as Lakshmi told him her plan.
 

6

Kundina
had never looked so beautiful. The capital of Vidarbha was not a large metropolis. Its thoroughfares were simple uksan-cart pathways, its only raj-marg led from the palace to the marketplace. Its houses were of simple construction.
 

But that day the town was dressed in her finest. Her roads, crossroads and bylanes, every last one had been washed clean, swept and then sprinkled with fragrant water. Ornamental banners flew alongside official krta-dhvaja, heralding all the major houses of not only Vidarbha kindom but the entire region, for the event had been announced to be a swayamvara and every king who had ever gazed upon Rukmini’s beauty and coveted here had added his flag to the fray, hoping to win her comely hand that day.
 

Even those who spoke of Rukmi’s prior intention to give the preference to his friend Sisupala felt confident that given a fair chance they would prove themselves superior to the prince of Cheddi. And with so many of them present, even Rukmi would not dare to simply hand over his sister: at the very least, Rukmini would have to be given an opportunity to garland her chosen one herself. And when each man imagined himself standing beside that arrogant half-wit son of Damaghosa, they felt certain she would rather choose him over that mutt.
 

For days beforehand, the wedding parties had been arriving. King Bhishmaka had set up enormous camps in the fields outside the city. Farmers moaned and lamented the loss of their crop but when they saw the banners of those who would occupy their lands, they forgot their losses and began counting the profit they would earn from the extra income they could glean for use of their lands, one way or another, for Vidarbhans were shrewd traders first and foremost.
 

Ornamental arches were raised on the king’s orders, many leading nowhere, merely providing decoration. The exteriors of houses were cleaned and limewashed, then decorated with sandalwood garlands and other shining ornaments. Every priest in seven surrounding districts found himself working day and night performing a large variety of yagnas and havans, some of purification and renewal, others of propitiation. The pitris were honored, as were the devas, and the brahmins fed more than they had consumed in the previous three seasons. Everywhere one went, the sound of Sanskrit mantras being chanted loudly came to the ear, as did music performed or being practiced by artists in preparation for celebrations both private and public.
 

It was the kingdom’s first wedding since the wedding of the king, some thirty years earlier, and as such, it was the biggest celebration Vidarbha had seen in over a generation.