The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (42 page)

‘You cannot!’ Panchali sprang forward. ‘Uttara, I don’t know what political game you think you are playing, but this is not such a simple matter.’

‘How dare you talk to me that way, Malini!’

‘I dare to speak how I like, Uttara,’ Panchali said. Softening her tone, she said, ‘I dare speak, not because of who you are, or who I was or am. I dare because I must. The truth is bigger than you or me. This story is bigger than you or me… My name is not Malini. I am Panchali Draupadi, once Empress of Aryavarta. The person you know as Vallabha is Bhim Vikrodara and Brihannala is Partha Savyasachin. Both are brothers to Dharma Yudhisthir of Kuru.’

To Panchali’s surprise, as well as Partha’s, Uttara shrugged, unconcerned, and remarked, ‘Brihannala. I always wondered about that name:
big reed
. Rather egotistic a euphemism for a eunuch, don’t you think? But then, all of Aryavarta knows what a Kaurava thinks of women. As for you, Panchali, forgive me if I don’t fall on my knees and grovel before you. I have no interest in the legitimacy of your claim to the empire any more than I have in Syoddhan’s.’

Partha looked distinctly uncomfortable. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but could find nothing to say. Panchali said, ‘It’s best you leave us to talk this over, Partha.’ He nodded and with a glance at Uttara exited the room, this time without the customary sway of Brihannala’s hips. Panchali waited till he was gone and took a seat. She gestured for Uttara to follow suit.

The subtle gestures, the assertion of dominance, were not lost on the younger woman. She sat, but did so with condescension.

Panchali said, ‘You’d make the perfect puppet, Uttara. You’re so easy to manipulate and predictable in your thinking. I could make you do exactly what I want you to, while you remain convinced that you act of your own free will. I’ve learnt that from the masters of masters, the best politician Aryavarta has ever seen, and I won’t hesitate to do what I have to.’

‘So why don’t you?’ Uttara said. ‘Why do you argue with me, instead of manipulating me as you claim you can so easily do?’

‘What makes you think I’m not? What makes you think every word I’ve just said was not meant to achieve my ends?’

Uttara muttered under her breath as she saw the riddle.

‘Well, I am not manipulating you,’ Panchali said. ‘I have no way to convince you of that except to say that Matsya is as much home to me as it is to you, and that I would never wish it harm. Matsya is the future; it is hope. I did not want Keechak dead, Uttara. But I did what I had to… All I asked him for was the chance to explain. It is all I ask you for too.’

‘Or else what? You’ll kill me too?’

Panchali shook her head and then, rising, went down on her knees before the seated Uttara. ‘I was once a princess, an empress, but I learnt the hard way that position, power and status mean nothing in a world where being just a person has no value. Please, trust me. Do not surrender to Syoddhan. If you do, there will be nothing left of Matsya but its forges, and the people will be merely slaves who work in them.’

Uttara stared at Panchali for a while. Then she reached down and helped her up. ‘Don’t,’ Uttara said. ‘It doesn’t feel right. Not because of who you are, but it just doesn’t feel right. Oh, Malini. You act like you’re the only woman with a brain and a conscience. I admit, you’re different, but whatever gave you the right to presume you are unique? I don’t think I’m anything like you, but I do find it offensive that you think you alone can lay claim to being capable of complex thought.’

Panchali said, ‘If you are trying to provoke me, Uttara, it’s not working. I’m beginning to like you all the more, in fact.’

Uttara laughed out loud. ‘You know what they say – most friendships are based on trust and respect. A few are based on mutual insult, and those are the strongest.’

‘My brother has a friend, with whom he’s like that. But they’d die for each other.’

‘He’s a lucky man. And his friend is luckier still. Though I would like to know if this affinity for strange friendships runs in your family.’

‘Ask him yourself.’

‘Your brother?’

‘His friend, though before that I need your help to bring him here.’ As Uttara frowned in puzzlement, Panchali added, ‘His name is Govinda Shauri.’

23

GOVINDA SHAURI
.

Uttara knew the name well, but the only recollection she had of the man was a fleeting, childhood memory from over a decade ago. He had come to Matsya, she had seen him, and she remembered how the older girls of the palace had whispered things about him that she had not understood then. More than anything else, she remembered the horrible argument that had ensued between her parents and her uncle the night Govinda Shauri had arrived. Keechak had held a dagger to her mother’s throat, saying that he would rather kill his sister than let her serve as a whore to those forsaken Firewrights. Uttara had asked her brother Sankha what a whore was and he had told her to leave the room. But she had stayed, and watched as her brothers and her father reassured Keechak that never again would they welcome Govinda Shauri into Matsya.

As she had grown older, Uttara came to understand what that conflict had been all about. Keechak had insisted that Govinda Shauri was a traitor – why else had he not made Matsya a part of Dharma Yudhisthir’s empire? He had cursed Satya and her descendants, the clan of Kuru, to eternal damnation and sworn that if ever a Kaurava or that lackey Govinda Shauri set foot in Matsya he would drink their blood.

And now Uttara was helping a Kaurava fight another Kaurava who sought to invade Matsya, and even considering the idea of bringing back Govinda Shauri to her homeland.

I must be crazy,
Uttara cautioned herself. Yet, she also knew why she was entertaining Panchali’s suggestion: Deep in those childhood memories were other, pleasant recollections. She could not remember why, but the thought of Govinda made her think also of swings and laughter and running playfully over hot sand. It made her remember her father as he had once been – a boisterous, wholesome man who had been quick to humour and slow to anger. A part of her had once thought, and still did, that Govinda Shauri could bring back her father’s laughter.

‘This way, is it not?’ Partha, or the man Uttara had known as Brihannala, whispered in the darkness.

Night had brought a fearful silence over all of Upaplavya and no one ventured out of their homes but for the city guards on duty. Uttara had the authority to order the guards to let them pass, but Partha insisted that secrecy was better. She did not dissent, and now led her companions silently through the darkness. ‘No, there is a passageway here between the army barracks that leads directly to the funeral ground,’ she told him. He did not look convinced, but Panchali gave him a reassuring nod. The trio walked on in silence.

A short while later, Uttara said, ‘There! See, we are almost on the other side of the grounds. I think you must have entered from the other side, when you…’ She stopped, realizing she had no idea what Partha was doing. ‘Why did we come here?’ she asked.

Partha said, ‘We hid our weapons here before we came into Upaplavya.’ He turned to Panchali. ‘I will need your help.’

Together, the two clambered up a solitary sami tree that was used by the people of Matsya to dispose of the bodies of the worst of criminals. The corpses of the convicted were bound in cloth and tied to the branches of the tree, and left to rot at leisure – ensuring, it was hoped, that the deceased had as difficult a passage into the afterlife as possible. Uttara flinched when Partha examined one of the cloth bundles by sniffing at it. With a look of satisfaction, he nodded to Panchali, who helped him untie the bundle and bring it down.

‘Weapons?’ Uttara asked. ‘But we make the best weapons in all Aryavarta. Why did you have to go to such trouble… Oh!’ She said nothing further as the cloth covering the corpse-shaped bundle fell apart to reveal a bow, the likes of which she had never seen. The metal looked light and supple, every curve and line of the bow crafted with sleek precision, as though fire had been tamed and given form.

‘Gandiva,’ Partha said, as he reverentially picked up the bow. ‘Forged by Agni and wielded by Indra, king of the celestials, it is said.’

‘You can gape at it later,’ Panchali told an open-mouthed Uttara. ‘Now help me tie up the rest of these.’

Panchali had taken out her own sword and bow, as well as the rest of Partha’s weapons. That still left an impressive, gleaming collection on the ground. Uttara complied, though not without confusion. ‘Who…to whom do the rest of these weapons belong?’

‘To my husband, Emperor Dharma Yudhisthir, and his brothers,’ Panchali replied, tightening the last knot in the bundle.

More questions spun inside Uttara’s head, but Partha said, ‘Ready? Let’s go.’

‘Where?’ Uttara asked.

‘You and I are going to face my cousins. Panchali is going to get us help.’

‘I am?’ Panchali did not look pleased at the prospect.

‘You have to, Panchali. You need to let Govinda know what has happened here, where we are, and what is going on. Get out of Matsya. Find him, find your brothers. Bring them back here before it is too late.’

Panchali stood where she was, frowning.

‘There is a way…’ Uttara offered. ‘There’s an path up the across the plains from the old riverbed. My uncle ordered it destroyed, but it can still be used…if one is careful. I’ve used it myself. Head due south-east from the marker beyond the palace. You won’t be able to keep a straight line, because it will run through the marketplace and the dwellings beyond, but once you are out of the city you can follow the stars. I can get you to a horse, and you should be able to reach the cliff before dawn.’

‘What about the two of you?’

Partha replied, ‘We will need a horse and a rig. If we ride out now, and then rest for a while, the two of us should be able to meet Syoddhan’s armies by first light. They are holding their position just west of the city. It’s a good position – they will stand between the city and the returning armies, if needed.’

‘A siege?’ Uttara said.

‘In time, yes.’

‘Two of you can’t fight an army by yourselves. What are you thinking of, Partha?’

‘I’m thinking of challenging Syoddhan to single combat, Panchali. He and whoever else might be willing to fight. I can’t defeat them all at the same time. But one by one…’ He smiled, though it was not one filled with mirth. ‘If we create multiple obstacles – first me, then the city guards – it may hold back Syoddhan’s forces for long enough. It will only be a few days before the Chief and his men return. We need to hold out till that time.’

Panchali said, ‘No, Partha. This is wrong. Not your plan, but that
she
is a part of it.’ She turned to Uttara. ‘You go. I’ll ride with him.’

Partha was about to protest, but Uttara cut in. ‘No, Panchali. I might get out of Matsya, but I wouldn’t know what to do next. I’ve never been too far from our borders, and I certainly have no idea how to find Govinda Shauri…or your brothers. Besides, I think it is a matter of honour that at least one Matsya soldier stand before Syoddhan. Else, my father will die of shame! Go.
Brihannala
here is enough to entertain me.’

Realizing that protest was futile, Panchali agreed. Less than half a muhurtta later, she set off from the stables on a dark stallion that would be difficult to spot by night.

Partha watched her leave, then looked at Uttara. ‘Thank you, Princess. That was kind and brave of you.’

‘It was sensible of me, that’s all,’ Uttara said. ‘I don’t know why you wanted her out of harm’s way, but I supposed that unless you got what you wanted you weren’t going to be in best form. And that I cannot risk, considering I want to stay alive.’ She laughed softly and added, ‘You do know there is no chance whatsoever that she will be back in time with help?’

‘Yes,’ Partha said. ‘But there is a good chance that if we hold the enemy back and make them wait, your father’s army will return. That apart, the point of sending Panchali away was to keep her safe, as you rightly guessed.’

Uttara looked amused at the confession. ‘Why?’ she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Partha caught her insinuations, but did not share her mirth. He replied with a straight face, ‘Because I owe her safety to a friend.’ Feeling inexplicably happy at the thought, Partha pulled Gandiva off his shoulder, strung the bow and tested the string. A loud, solemn note boomed through the night, travelling as echoes off the cliffs and resounding ahead till it faded in the distance. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘are you any good with chariot rigs? Think you can handle two horses?’

‘Hah!’ Uttara said as she began measuring out reins for four.

24

BALABADRA WOKE UP WITH A START. BREATHING HARD, HE SAT
in his makeshift bed and looked around. Their campfire, small and hidden from view by a pile of stones, was smouldering but had not yet gone out. The night was quiet, the air, cool, and little appeared amiss other than the fact that the makeshift bed next to his was empty. As his eyes got used to the darkness he could make out the dark shape of a man setting on a rock at the cliff’s edge. With a weary groan, Balabadra got out of his warm bed and made his way over.

‘Can’t sleep, Govinda?’

Govinda turned to look at his brother and shook his head. ‘I thought I heard….’

‘Hmm?’

‘Gandiva. I thought I heard Gandiva.’

Balabadra sighed. ‘Wishful thinking?’

A voice called out from behind them, ‘Wishful indeed. You can hear an absent Gandiva, but neither you nor your watch could see this ambush coming, could you?’ At the sound of the voice, the rest of the men sleeping around the campfire rose to their feet, swords drawn.

Shikandin laughed at the sight, though not unkindly, as he and Dhrstyadymn stepped out of the nearby thicket and on to the rocky ground of the campsite. ‘Oh please! A little too late for that, don’t you think? Whatever happened to the Yadu hunters’ instinct? Or has your inner gwala taken over?’

‘Considering the inner gwala of this Yadu hunter has an arrow aimed at your head, you ought to be a little more polite in your greeting.’