The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (45 page)

Panchali felt tears brimming in her eyes, for it drained her to stand, tiny and weak, against the undeniable truth of Devala’s assertions. But she did not flinch. She said, ‘There will be war, Devala, within Aryavarta and beyond these lands. You are right. There will be war, and the lust for power and fear will rule us all. But there will be war because in every age there will be those who fight for what is right, those who stand defiant against men like you. Now, we can discuss the eternal battle of good and evil for as long as you like. It doesn’t change the fact that you cannot have what you came here for. The Naga-astra is gone.’

Devala stared at her, still disbelieving, and then turned once again to the multi-hued liquids that mingled on the stone floor of the inner room, slowly coming to terms with the enormity of his loss. He turned to Panchali, his eyes blazing. ‘Do you truly remember nothing? Who you once were? What you once did? And what Govinda Shauri did to you? If you cannot remember the distant past, surely you remember your life as Panchali? Have you not endured enough? How much more will you bear for him? After all that he has done to you, how can you trust him?’

‘Really, Devala. That is such a silly question,’ Panchali smiled, completely at ease. ‘As for this,’ she gestured to the destroyed bottles. ‘I didn’t do it for him. I did it, because it is the right thing to do. You are right. Power is the only reality men like you understand, and it is unfortunate that the world is filled with men like you. But I think you know the old story… At the end of the day, neither the Indras nor the demons of the world get to own Sri. She cannot be owned or kept, but will remain a companion to the one who sees her for what she is.’

‘Hah! Stories… Who believes them? And who do you imagine
your
Vasudeva Narayana to be? Foolish girl!’

Panchali raised her chin, feeling within her a wholesomeness and pride that were new to her, but at the same time so natural as if it were a childhood quality pushed forward from her subconscious mind. ‘I don’t remember who I was, Devala. But I remember some of what I was taught. And if there is one thing I know, it is that behind every myth lies a meaning, a meaning that is housed equally in reason and benevolence. Vasudeva Narayana is each one of us, he is a symbol of the goodness that is inherent in humanity… Humanity, Devala, not these inconsequential, egotistic illusions you call you or me, or other men and women. Sri is the essence of that humanity, the manifested form of the potential within us that we can either embrace or destroy.’

Devala snarled. His eyes showed betrayal and disappointment. He brought up his right hand, curled his fist and opened it to reveal a tongue of flame that appeared to be dancing on his hand. He said, ‘In that case, it is settled. I owe you nothing. I owe your family nothing.’

Panchali started at the statement, but Devala had made up his mind. He raised his hand and swung it to throw the ball of flame at her. The flame missed Panchali as she moved back, but hit a stone receptacle which burst into flames, billowing smoke. The sudden occurence knocked her to the ground. By the time she was back on her feet, her eyes watering from the smoke, Devala was gone. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself, and then made her way up the stairs and towards the entrance.

She had not given much thought to how she would leave the forge because, she silently admitted to herself, she had not thought she would leave. As she stepped forward cautiously, wondering what to do next, she came upon the inert body of a guard – the man posted within the forge, who had perhaps taken up his position by the time Devala had entered the building. Devala had no doubt taken the man unawares, and there was no sign that the dead soldier had raised an alarm.

With a word of prayer, Panchali stripped the dead guard of his uniform and put it on, hiding her own robes and the precious item she had secreted away inside them within its folds. She tucked her long hair under the soldier’s metal helmet, covering it as best as she could. She waited as she reached the top of the stairs, listening intently to the footsteps of the guards on their rounds outside, counting their paces, till she was sure of her timing. Then she opened the door to the forge, stepped out into the sunlight and began walking towards the palace with all the confidence she could muster.

Panchali reached the attendants’ room without incident. Cleaning herself up and changing into fresh robes, she made her way towards Uttara’s rooms, as was her morning duty. Just as she had instructed, no one had intruded on the princess. Settling herself into the appropriate state of mind, Panchali entered Uttara’s chamber all set to discover that the princess was missing. With careful tending, the matter would grow to obscure the inevitable discovery of the dead guard and the destroyed potions, not to mention a small item that had disappeared from the forge, once the craftsmen arrived for their daily labours. It would, she estimated, give her till evening at the least before things got too complicated, and by then… Panchali felt sad but content at the thought. By then anything could happen. By then Matsya could fall and she herself could be killed, or in Syoddhan’s captivity, or worse, in Dussasan’s custody. No doubt he had every intention of finishing what he had started on the day of the dice game. But the possibility no longer inspired fear, at least, not in the helpless, hopeless way it once had. Panchali closed her eyes and smiled.
I am Existence itself.

28

‘
WHAT ARE THEY WAITING FOR?’ UTTARA SAID, SHADING HER
eyes with her hand as she looked at the army. She knew what she saw was just a meagre portion, a hundredth possibly, of the entire force, but the leaders were all there, right at the frontline. Yet, they had neither attacked nor sent a response to the shouted challenge to single combat that she had issued at the break of dawn.

Partha checked his bow for the third time in the last half-muhurrta before putting it down and looking up from where he sat on the floor of the chariot rig. The small and light rig was space enough for two to sit on without too much discomfort, but Uttara remained standing, one hand lightly holding on to the reins of the horses. He said, ‘They suspect a trap. To be precise, they suspect a Firewright trap… like the earth opening up under their feet or the mountains falling upon them.’.

‘Heathens and magicians. That is what we have always been to you all, haven’t we?’ Uttara said with ill-concealed contempt.

Partha replied, ‘Just as we have always been blood-sucking oppressors to you.’ He added, ‘I don’t want to fight about this, Uttara. I’ve learnt the hard way that the past is important, but not at the cost of the present or future. For what it is worth, I now believe that your people are among the bravest I have ever met, not to mention the cleverest. This is a fine location for an imperial capital.’

Uttara opened her mouth to retort, but Partha went on, ‘I mean it, without condescension. Imagine, in times past, when the river flowed through these regions: Your imperial capital would have been nestled in a verdant plain, surrounded by these mountain ranges for protection. True, the mountains are not tall, but they are steep and difficult to scale. The only way in or out would be through these mountain passes.’

‘Unless,’ Uttara pointed out, ‘the enemy came from the north or the west. Of course, one could argue that there is enough of a distance between the borders and the capital city to hold attackers back, but still…’

Partha shrugged. ‘Exceptions are inevitable.’

‘So you think there is a chance Susarman’s forces may overcome our armies? I mean, in the west?’

‘The chance always exists. But the last message we had from the western front was that our forces outnumbered the Trigarta troops many times over. Of course, now we know that the attack by Trigarta was merely a distraction. Perhaps your father should not have led the entire army there.’

‘Hmm… I remember Bhuminjaya saying as much. And I did too. But when it comes to the cattle… Our herds are tough and hardy and manage to graze well enough on desert scrub and still yield milk and plough what little farmland we have. In fact, the nomads of the west depend on their herds completely for their sustenance. It is tough not to react to a threat to the herds. Your
cousin
probably expected that.’

Partha frowned. ‘Considering my brothers are fighting Susarman in the west, and I am standing here with you and not with my cousin, as you call him, a little more charm from you would not be amiss.’

Uttara was undaunted. ‘If it weren’t for you lot, we – Matsya – would not be in this situation in the first place. But, as you said, this is neither the time nor the place for a fight… I’m sorry.’ After a while she said, ‘I’m just on edge, not knowing what we are waiting for or why.’

Partha said, ‘I’m sorry, too. It’s been a while since I was as young as you. I’ve forgotten what it is like to be impatient, though now I wonder if that is a good thing, after all. If it makes you feel any better, we can surmise what the enemy is up to. The moment you issued your proclamation, Syoddhan would have gathered his advisors to debate on it. His dearest friend Vasusena would have insisted that they they ride us down. Grandsire Bhisma would have cautioned against it, pointing out that such an action is contrary to the rules of battle just as single combat is permissible within the rules of engagement. Kings may choose to let a duel decide the outcome of an entire war in order to prevent bloodshed. Or, should a nation lack an army, it may issue a similar challenge. Acharya Dron would have emphasized that a challenge has indeed been issued and that to ignore it would reek of cowardice. He would suggest that he ride out to face you, that is, us, in single combat. At that point, Syoddhan would ask if it were not better to check the rearguard of their armies to negate the possibility of another attack. Asvattama, Acharya Dron’s son, would inform him that messengers were already on the way to check this.’

‘He can do that? Without Syoddhan’s permission?’

‘Asvattama is not a man to wait for anyone’s permission. He has a mind of his own. His father trained the two of us together, and I ended up being Dron’s favourite simply by keeping my mouth shut. Asvattama would get himself into trouble, sooner or later, every time.’

Uttara was impressed. ‘Is that how you know so much about each one of them?’

‘Yes. I grew up with them. Some of them brought me up, some of them taught me… They were not all my friends, but none of them were really my enemies, till…’ He trailed off.

Uttara did not press him.

At length, Partha said, ‘
He
is like that…Syoddhan. He does very little without asking for counsel. It is both his strength and his weakness.’

‘How can that be a weakness?’

‘Because thought and debate are all very well when plans are being made, but not when plans are falling apart. My cousin is not a bad man, Uttara. But in my opinion he lost the right to be Emperor, even the king of Kuru, the day he could not stand up to his own brothers, the day he could not stop those under his command from transgressing their bounds.’

Uttara laughed. ‘It’s strange,’ she said, ‘how neither Kaurava who has stepped up to lead Aryavarta has the fundamental quality that defines an emperor. It makes one wonder who is fit to lead us…’

‘Maybe, Uttara, no one person is meant to lead. Maybe people, we, all of us together make the best leaders.’

Before Uttara could reply, a horn sounded along Syoddhan’s frontline.

‘What in the name of… Are they retreating?’

‘No… Yes!’ Partha said, with a puzzled frown. ‘They are retreating, but not all of them. But yes, they are falling into marching ranks. But…I wonder?’

‘Don’t speak too soon. The soldiers have stopped moving. This makes no sense…’

As Partha and Uttara watched, two riders left the frontlines and headed towards them, one of them holding aloft a white flag of truce. When they came to stop just outside arrow range, Partha recognized them as Syoddhan and Asvattama. It was Syoddhan who spoke first.

‘Princess!’ he called out. ‘Can you hear me? I must ask you to identify yourself once again.’

Uttara stood tall. ‘I am Uttara, daughter of Virat, Chief of Matsya. And I remind you that my challenge remains unanswered.’

‘It is the matter of the challenge that I need to discuss, Princess. But before that I need to ask you, who is the other person with you?’

Partha hissed a curse, but Uttara remained unruffled. ‘This is my charioteer and fellow warrior. I know her as Brihannala.’

The response drew a chuckle from Asvattama. He said, not bothering to hide his amusement, ‘You’re a clever girl, Princess. And I have no doubt your companion is, too. Which is why I would like to hear…her…identify herself. You there, upon your honour, who are you?’

Partha felt his heart skip a beat. He had no qualms about revealing his identity, but was afraid that it would place Uttara in grave danger. If Syoddhan found out the truth, he would not hesitate to cut them down where they stood, flag of truce or not. He chose his words carefully and spoke in the lilting tones that he was now used to. ‘Did you not hear the princess Uttara? She said my name was Brihannala. I have served in her palace as an attendant excelling in various fine arts.’

‘Battle included, no doubt,’ Asvattama replied. ‘I ask you again. What is your name?’

Partha remained quiet.

‘What is your name,
eunuch
?’ Asvattama said, rolling the last word off his tongue with all the derision he could put into to it.

It was more than Partha could take. He drew his shoulders back, firm and strong, as he proclaimed. ‘I am Partha Savyasachin, by birth a Kaurava and by right a king amongst kings. Fight me, if you dare.’

Asvattama urged his horse closer. He said, ‘Oh, I dare, Partha Savyasachin. I dare. But I will not. What happened that day at the dice game ought not to have happened. That I was not there to stop it lies as a debt on my head.’ Before either Syoddhan or Partha could speak, he raised his hand and said, ‘I am not here to debate whose fault those events were, for enough fault lies on all sides. All I know is my own omission. And so, today, I will not fight you. I suspected it was you, when we set up camp last night. Few bows sound the way yours does. But Syoddhan here had his doubts… Well, that is settled, Syoddhan. I owe you my loyalty, and I shall fight as the least of your soldiers in any war of your choosing. Bring me Virat, bring me the entire Matsya army, and I shall stand and fight till my last breath. But
him
… I cannot fight. Not today.’ With that Asvattama spurred his horse back towards the frontline.