The Thirteenth Day (9 page)

The conch announcing the commencement of battle sounded at a distance. Sushasana bowed mock-solemnly to me, ‘All yours, stable boy. Come back in one piece.’

My chariot rode towards the front. I heard Sushasana’s voice from the back, ‘And clean some of that shit!’

I smiled to myself. Today, we had planned after much deliberation, that my Anga troops and Bhagadatta’s elephant brigade supported by Shakuni would lead and cut through to Yudhishthira. Once we had cleared the way, Drona would slingshot in and pick up my brother. Not my usual style, but since yesterday, there was no other choice.

The conch blew again. It was Drona’s, I could tell from its refrain. Then there was a blast of conches from the other side.

I took in the sight of our army. Thousands of battle standards hung limply on top of their chariots. The battle standard was another symbol of the puffed vanity of our nobility. A banner that flew on top of chariots of the nobility with symbols that ‘represented the noble value of the house’. In short, it told everyone on the field whose chariot it was. And if you didn’t have one, God help you. The nobility wouldn’t even approach you for a fight. My own was an elephant rope that mahouts used to secure the girth of an elephant. It was meant to depict my position as protector of the Kuru princes…a little tacky perhaps, but Suyodhana’s choice.

A sense of gloom still pervaded the ranks. Grandsire’s mere presence had put strength into these boys’ arms. Without him, it was as if they had woken from a trance, realizing that without Grandsire they were responsible for their own lives. They would be careful today. Maybe even hesitate a little.

I made my way to the front. My chariots had been arrayed in a neat line behind Bhagadatta’s heavyweights. I looked left and right for him when a coconut landed on my chariot floor, causing my poor charioteer to invoke his ancestors in fright. I looked upwards and saw Bhagadatta happily munching away, feeding Supritika at the same time.

‘’Bout time you came … Thoo…was worried sick. Thought I’d have no one to share the glory with…’

I lowered my eyes and gave him the smartest namaskaram I had. The old fire breather still insisted on riding into battle on his beast without a mahout, though no mahout could have possibly handled Supritika. I left the two of them to their appetite and went over to my corps commander. He squinted as he saw me approaching; his real green eye shining, while his fake emerald one sparkled merrily in its socket.

‘Good day to die, Radheya.’

Narsimha was the only member of my personal staff who was allowed to address me by my first name. He had been with me throughout, this green-eyed ogre, and I saw him rise from a foot soldier to cavalryman to brigade commander and now corps commander. I had even been with him years ago, when a Kamboja rider put a lance through his eye during a charge, and returned the favour for him by shooting down his attacker.

Loud jeers from behind interrupted my answer. Shakuni was arranging his Kamboja light cavalry. Narsimha looked at them disdainfully and spat.

I surveyed my chariots and took my place ahead of them. I didn’t like commanding elephants as they were too unpredictable. I wasn’t too fond of infantry either as it required infinite patience to handle them. Chariots were my joy. I have often believed that human beings were never meant to go fast because speed brings out the savage in us. And in a chariot, quickening towards the enemy, crying your throat hoarse in the heat of war, is when you truly discover the part of you that you’ve been brought up to hide.

The Pandava army spread out in front of me. It appeared they were favouring an aggressive stance today as they were in a Krauncha formation, so called because the troops in front were arranged in the shape of a crane’s beak. I could make out Arjuna’s battle standards with the image of Hanuman, the monkey god, flanked by Nakula and Sahadeva, but there was no sign of my eldest cousin.

Our own formation was a basic Sakata or box—a broad arrangement of no great imagination which could be equally effective in offense or defense. We would lead with Bhagadatta’s elephants and once they had punched a hole in the centre, my chariots supported by infantry would follow.

The troops waited anxiously for the signal to charge. It is impossible to remember what is going through your mind in the last minutes before a battle. Most soldiers don’t even notice that they’ve pissed in fright. Their heads throb. Their breath quickens. And more than a prayer for their life, they pray for the wait to get over, for the killing to begin, or the dying.

A final conch blew.

The trumpets began to cry and the drums started. Cymbals crashed and fifes sounded over the deep bass thud of human and animal footsteps. Bhagadatta’s elephants walked ponderously towards the Pandava lines while Arjuna’s chariots gathered pace from the other side. I nodded to Narsimha who gave the sign, and my chariots made their way at a safe distance behind Bhagadatta’s troop.

Another peal of trumpets sounded and the elephants, goaded by their mahouts, increased their speed. All except Supritika who continued unhurried. I began to lose sight of them as the dust temporarily blinded us. ‘Steady!’ I heard Narsimha cry and cough shortly after. The sound of metal clashing grew louder as we neared the line. I saw Supritika, now among our chariots, still in no hurry.

A sharp cry broke my reverie. A horseman came thundering through the dust and hacked wildly at me with a sword. I avoided his swipe and let the chariots behind me butcher him.

My chariot trundled into the front slowly. My foot soldiers came up from behind and formed a wall around the chariots allowing us to move at a genial pace and bring out our bows. I spotted a chariot warrior heading in our direction. He was just at the right distance for my first kill. I fixed an arrow and fired.

And missed him.

Narsimha, protecting my right, coughed and spat into the ground. ‘I’ve seen virgins on honeymoons less eager, Radheya...’

I cursed him for the fool he was and nocked another arrow. This time, I tore out the warrior’s jugular.

Our elephant front had slowed to a halt.

Platoons of Pandava infantry with 15-foot-long spears had positioned themselves around the elephants to prevent them from charging. The elephants now just stood like towers, swaying their necks eerily. Supritika strolled in and was promptly surrounded by the Pandava infantry. I could make out Bhagadatta. He stood on his howdah and took in the panorama. Then bringing out his trumpet, he blasted three short, angry whistles. Supritika shook her head and charged, the spears breaking through her armour and into her body. The other elephants followed her, some successfully, but quite a few impaled by the spears.

This was my sign. Narsimha sounded the conch and we went in behind the elephants. No Yudhishthira in sight. Naturally he wouldn’t be up front, but I hoped he wouldn’t be cowering in the reserve either.

I could make out Bhima’s broad bulk in the distance furiously directing his infantry towards an elephant. He was in a silver-coloured chariot and for once, his mace was not in his hand; a bow was in its place. One of Suyodhana’s younger brothers, Vivimsati, saw the same and probably fancied his chances. With a couple of well-placed arrows, he shot Bhima’s horses. A third arrow took him on the shoulder. Enraged, Bhima picked up his mace and ran towards Vivimsati’s chariot. An overhead blow broke the horse’s neck and another swing deprived the chariot of a wheel while Vivimsati looked on in disbelief. He jumped out of his chariot before it collapsed and retreated towards another chariot, hacking wildly away at the air and an imaginary enemy. Bhima, heaving and grunting, shouted at him loudly to come back and fight like a man.

On my right, his brother Nakula was having problems of his own containing his uncle, Shalya, who mowed down his infantry guard with arrows. To his credit, Nakula made a fighting retreat, giving time for someone else to take his place. Smart. On a bad day, I would think carefully before taking on Shalya.

A group of battle standards with the insignia of a fish lay ahead of me. They were the Matsyas, led by Virata. Our chariots clashed and I saw Virata manoeuvre his chariot in front of me. The old fool. I put an arrow in my bow, and shot him full in the chest. He reeled backwards but his armour prevented any real damage. A couple of infantrymen formed a protective fence around him and I fired arrows deliberately at their unprotected faces.

Virata had regained his composure by now and hurled a javelin which I dodged easily. Another one nearly went through my charioteer. He picked up his bow again and started attacking me with arrows, most of which were pathetically off mark. This would be too easy. I began whistling as I calmly picked up an arrow and released it. It smacked him on his shoulder, the next one pierced his thigh, and a third one cut beautifully across his left bicep.

The Matsya contingent tried to rally around old Virata to protect him, but Narsimha and the chariots held them off. I put an arrow through the old king’s helmet and took out the next arrow with the intention of putting it through his throat. A loud trumpet interrupted my careful shot. An elephant, riderless and stuck through with javelins and arrows, came lumbering through my fight crushing a few chariots in its wake. In the confusion, Virata escaped and the Matsya ranks closed in behind him.

A chance to take out a member of the Pandava war council did not come easily. I was furious and vented my anger on the Matsyas, killing as many as I could before their reinforcements arrived. When they did, I moved behind and let Narasimha take over.

From the looks of it, Supritika and the surviving elephants had nearly touched the centre of the Pandava forces in their charge and were being contained successfully this time.

Yudhishthira was being sorely missed. I told my charioteer to go towards the centre.

M
y orders were to take charge of a detachment of the reserve corps under Shikhandi. I was to be tucked away safe, a half yojana or so, from the front. I thought of going and protesting to Dhristadyumna, but it was nearly battle hour so I resigned myself to reporting for the reserves, at least temporarily.

Father was behind this, I was sure. Hiding me from the fight.

Shikhandi met me near the Reserve Corps. She was elegant as usual, wearing a garland of white lotuses over her white armour and cream-coloured dhoti.

She started, ‘Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I just hate all the attention.’

‘Hate it? So soon? If I were you, I’d be hiring bards by now, not that that’s going to stop them. Tomorrow Uttaraa will be asking me if you really are eight feet tall. You’re famous, sister. Live with it, because it’s going to live a lot longer than you.’

‘What if I don’t want to be famous?

‘What do you want then?’

She exhaled and looked out at the battle in front.

‘I want to be left alone.’

There was sadness in the words; an invitation to observe its surface, but not explore its depths. She had spent her life fighting her father’s battles, being a better man than any of the men. And now, that was how everyone was going to remember her.

She turned to me with a sly smile, ‘I know what you want, Abhimanyu. A name; a following; a page or two dedicated to you in a book. Maybe even a whole book. A life that generations of children will learn by rote, and remember as adults when they are vulnerable. I have lesser demands.’

I didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, ‘Look, whether you like it or not, you’ve been part of something that is going to be spoken about for many yugas, hopefully. Get used to it.’

She looked far away into battle lines drawing closer like storm clouds. ‘I suppose you’re right. I hope you get your glory, Abhimanyu. You can have mine too.’

‘Thank you, generous Lady Shikhandi. Alms for the glory seeker?’

She continued looking into the distance but laughed, ‘You’ll get yours some day. Perhaps more than your father. But a word of advice: you won’t get it back here with us.’

I rolled my eyes at her and she gave an understanding smile.

I made my way into the reserve division and waited.