The Rise of Hastinapur (2 page)

She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the ceiling, yellow and bare. The walls were adorned with paintings of camels and horses. The men of Saubala, she had heard, were great riders. Indeed, on the day she turned fifteen, Salva had taken her riding on the vast northern plains of Kasi on a white stallion. He had ridden, alone, all the way from Saubala to Kasi through four nights to be by her side on her birthday. That was the day she had let him hold her hand, and that night he had kissed her on the cheek in the blue light of the new moon.

Ladies at the court of Kasi would not dare say anything to Amba’s face, but she knew there had been rumours about Salva’s intentions. How dare the king of a vassal state be so presumptuous as to show affection so openly to the first princess of a Great Kingdom, they asked. In the eyes of people who could not see beyond the material, all motives were black, all gestures were fake. Salva, they said, wanted her only because she was the princess of Kasi, the kingdom that, after Hastinapur, boasted the most fertile lands in all of North Country. Even her father, who had permitted all of Salva’s advances toward her, had asked her once: ‘If you were not the princess of Kasi, my dear, would he still wish to be wedded to you?’

And she had said, ‘He would, father.’

She had, however, never asked Salva that question. How could she? It would amount to her doubting his love. When he had been nothing but kind, generous, thoughtful and compassionate throughout the time she had known her, how could she slap him in the face like that? There were things in love that ought not to be spoken about.

Even now she wished that Salva had defeated Devavrata in battle and won her. But Devavrata hailed from Hastinapur, where princes were taught first to handle a sword and a spear before they were given toy wooden horses to play with. And they called him the finest warrior of the land. Salva had his gifts, but valour and skill in battle were not among them. Amba had known that during their courtship too, and it had not mattered to her.

It did not matter to her now, either, except – it would have been
nicer
, that was all.

It would have meant that she would not have had to beg Devavrata and Mother Satyavati to let her go. It would have meant not having to listen to Mother Satyavati expressing doubts about Salva’s love. She pictured herself on the bank of the Ganga at Kasi, where Devavrata and her suitors fought one another. If only Salva had won, she and he would have stood on his chariot, side by side, and pointing at the vanquished Devavrata with the tip of his bow Salva would have said: ‘I only desire Amba. You can take Ambika and Ambalika with you, Son of Ganga.’

Yes, indeed, that would have been nice.

She clapped her hands once, and a vessel of water was brought for her. She drank a thimbleful, then another. Water in this country had a queer, salty taste to it. She sighed to herself. Her skin was used to the fresh-water springs of Kasi; did she have to bathe in saltwater too? She hoped that her skin would not blotch.

An attendant came to her, bowing low. ‘Your bath is ready, my lady,’ he said.

‘So why has the queen of Hastinapur journeyed through the night to visit a vassal state?’ asked Salva, after they had both sat down. He had taken the chair opposite her, ignoring her gesture that motioned him to her side. When he sat he looked no more than a raw young man of seventeen. Like all riders, he was strong in the thighs and calves. His hips were supple and sturdy, so that when he stood he had the appearance of a resolute mountain, but now that she was sitting face to face with him, he looked like any of the stable boys she had seen in the castle. She knew he wore shoulder pads under his robe to broaden his stature.

Amba gave him her hands, but he stayed unmoved. His long fingers were wrapped around the balls of his knees, and in his gaze she found no love, no concern; only mild curiosity, and, perhaps, a respectful distance. ‘I am not the queen of Hastinapur, Lord,’ she said, drawing her hands back a little. ‘I am your Amba. Do you not recognize me?’

‘The day Devavrata won you and your sisters in the battle on the riverbank, all of you became Hastinapur’s queens, my lady – Your Majesty.’

‘But Devavrata did not want to keep me there against my will. He gave me leave to come here, my love. To your arms.’ She peered into his stone-black eyes to guess what he was thinking. ‘You
do
love me, do you not?’

His eyes softened, and Amba’s heart leapt. In that one moment she saw the old Salva, the king who had wooed her at her father’s house with lotuses and love songs. He was concealing his true feelings for her, she thought. But why? What was the need when she was here, ready to fly into his arms at a mere nod?

‘Love is not the question here, my princess,’ he said, and after waving the attendants out of the room, took her hand in his to pat it. ‘You do know how much I love you. Today, ever since I saw you in court, I could not think of anything else. My courtiers would have me speak of how to store Saraswati’s water, but all I thought of was how to send them away so that I could run up here and sit with you.’ He ran his fingertips on her knuckles. ‘You do know I love you, do you not?’

‘I do,’ said Amba, ‘but why do you say that love is not the question? If we love each other and want to be with each other, what else matters?’

‘Everything, my dear! Oh, if only Devavrata had not come to the groom-choosing and that you had garlanded me. Would it not have been a happier state of affairs then? But now…’

‘Nothing has changed now,’ said Amba. ‘Believe me, nothing has changed.’

‘Has it not? Did Devavrata not win you in a fair fight against all the kings of the land? Did he not take you as prize for Hastinapur’s throne, to be wedded to High King Vichitraveerya?’

‘He has, yes, but it was he who has sent me here, my lord! Even Mother Satyavati – she blessed me that I should make you a good wife and your kingdom a good queen.’

Salva did not stop caressing her hand, and she noticed that her own fingers were small and thin next to his. His voice dropped to a low whisper, and he said, ‘Amba.’ She should have liked it because it was the first time that evening he had said her name, but the tone in which he said it – she felt her eyes smart, and she blinked rapidly, hoping no tears would drop.

‘Amba,’ he said again. ‘You’re such a dear little girl. You are too innocent to understand the ways of the world, my dear. Do you really think that Devavrata sent you here just so that he can see you happy?’

‘Yes,’ she said, raising her head to him. ‘He said he would not keep a maiden in Hastinapur against her will.’

‘And he would not, I give him that. But you do belong to Hastinapur. Why would Devavrata give you away to me, without wishing something in return?’

She tensed. ‘What did he ask you for?’

Salva broke into a sad smile. ‘Your riding companions brought with them a parchment. After you were shown to your quarters this afternoon, they read to me Devavrata’s message.’

‘Bride price?’

Salva nodded. ‘As you perhaps know, ours is a small city. The Saraswati feeds us but for six months of the year. Plants do not grow on our sandy lands. But we do have the mountains behind us, and on top of them we have set up quarries. Devavrata wants our mines for six months, until midsummer next year.’

Amba recalled bits of conversation between Devavrata and Satyavati, something about weapons and how the kingdom of Panchala was forging them by the thousands out of their rocky lands. If marble, granite and sandstone could be taken from Saubala, could Hastinapur not match Panchala in weapon-making, at least for the next six months?

‘That is too dear a price, my lady,’ Salva was saying, as though from somewhere far away. She could only feel his fingers wrapped tight around her hand. ‘This is the wrong half of the year for us to be giving up our mines. If we do not trade our stone with Kunti and Shurasena, they will not give us food and water. My people will starve.’

‘Then do not give him the stone he wants,’ said Amba.

‘And suffer the consequences?’

‘What are the consequences?’

‘Well,’ said Salva, ‘nothing immediate. But it is not well for a kingdom of my size to cheat Hastinapur of what is rightfully hers.’

‘Rightfully hers?’ Amba said, her voice rising. ‘Are you saying that I rightfully belong to Hastinapur?’ Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice quavered. ‘I am a person, not a thing.’

‘A person … who was won fairly by the champion of Hastinapur in an open fight to be wedded to his brother.’

‘A person!’ she said resolutely. ‘I do not belong to any one kingdom. I belong to the king of Kasi, who bore and bred me, and I belong to you, the one whom I chose to love, to marry.’

His fingers resumed caressing her hand. ‘Dear girl,’ he said. ‘You do not understand the ways of the world.’

‘Fight him,’ she said suddenly, and felt his hands retreat in shock. ‘Fight him for me, my lord.’

‘My lady,’ said Salva, with a nervous laugh. ‘You must be jesting. Did you not see how convincingly he fought us all? He is the foremost warrior in all of North Country, and you want me to fight him?’

‘For me,’ said Amba.

‘It shall not be a fight, my dear. I shall be walking to certain death.’

‘Then let us die,’ Amba said, her breath heavy and fast, eyes glistening. ‘Let us die so that in our next life we are united.’

‘My lady! Think of my people, of my wives–’

‘But it is me that you love! You told me you would happily die for my love. Or were they just lies, then?’

He hesitated; only for a moment, but he did. He let out a smile that was meant to disarm her, but it only made her skin crawl. ‘What you ask is impossible,’ he said. ‘I cannot forsake my kingdom for you.’

‘Why? Do you not love me?’

‘Not as much as that, no.’

She was reminded of Mother Satyavati’s quiet voice and dark lips mouthing the words:
Will he take you back
? Then she had jumped to Salva’s defence, but now, she found herself wavering. If he was neither ready to pay the bride price nor to fight for her against Hastinapur, he could be saying only one thing.

‘Are you going to send me back?’ she asked.

‘My lady, I am afraid I am left with no other choice.’

She pulled her hand back and looked at it as if termites had been chewing on it. A wave of disgust washed over her. The king withdrew out of her reach, watching, and his left hand rose to signal the attendants to become alert.

‘Stop,’ she said, raising her own hand. ‘You have nothing to fear from me. I carry no weapons. Even if I did, I would not have sullied my knife by stabbing you, O King.’

‘I understand your anger–’

‘You understand
nothing
! All you understand is to treat a maiden like she were property, to be fought over, to be won, to be given away in return for a price. I now know that when you pursued me in Kasi, you did so because in your eyes, I was a prize to be won. But now that someone else has won me and is offering me to you, you want nothing of me.’

‘Amba, you do not understand. All of North Country will laugh at me–’

‘If you accept my love?’

‘To accept you as a gift, as alms, without giving them anything in return!’ Salva sprang to his feet and clasped his arms behind him. He puffed out his chest and looked down at her. ‘You do not understand a man’s world, Princess. There are bigger things than love that the world cares for.’

Amba looked up to face him, her lips pursed tight. ‘Like duty, you would say, would you not?’ She got up slowly. ‘Like honour.’ She stood to her full height. ‘Accepting me would drag you down, would it not? You would not be able to stare Devavrata in the eye if you take me into your court and accept me as your queen. People will say that the king of Saubala had to be bestowed a wife by Devavrata, who defeated him and stole her from him first! That is your concern, is it not, Salva?’ She had never taken his name before. But now this man appeared to her stripped of title. He was no king.

Salva squared his shoulders. False bravado, she thought. She could spit in his face now and he would take it. He knew that she was right; she could see the admission in his furtive, ferrety eyes. A long-gone whisper sounded in her ear, that of an old maid who had reared her since she was a babe. She had said that the king from Saubala was fine and mighty, but he had eyes that could not be trusted. Amba had then laughed her away as a whiny old woman, as she had done with Mother Satyavati. How right they both had been! How stupid was she to have thwarted the opportunity to become High Queen of Hastinapur for this lout.

‘Hastinapur will look after you well, Princess of Kasi,’ said Salva. ‘You can stay here for the night as our honoured guest. We may be a small kingdom, but we treat our guests as gods. Early tomorrow, you can ride.’

Amba broke into a laugh. She turned away from the king and signalled for her coronet and clips to be brought. ‘We will ride tonight, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘Please make arrangements for us to leave in an hour from now.’

‘Tonight? It may be dangerous crossing the Khandava at night.’

‘My riding companions will protect me. If you have any gifts for the court of Hastinapur, I shall be glad to carry them.’