The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 (49 page)

30

‘
FIRST BHISMA, THEN DRON, NOW VASUSENA
…
IS THERE ANYONE
in this damned war that you’ll deign to kill, Partha?’

More than the nature of the words, it was a surprise to all to hear them come from Dharma. True, his day had not gone well, and Vasusena had pushed them to the very edge of defeat. But for him to openly chide his brother this way was a chilling reminder of their precarious state.

Partha sighed, tired, but kept his temper. After sixteen days of bloodshed, he felt far too numb to respond to Dharma.

‘It isn’t easy to face Vasusena in a duel, Agraja,’ Bhim spoke up in his brother’s stead. ‘Imagine shooting at a moving mark, one that is in turn letting arrows loose upon you. Imagine further that this mark is exceptionally adept at anticipating your position, which makes defending yourself against it far more difficult.’

‘What are you trying to say, Bhim?’

‘That Vasusena is known as a good archer for a reason. The best of us can defend ourselves against him, but not defend against and attack him at the same time. By the time you have dealt with his shafts and let loose counter-arrows of your own, he has moved position. All this happens in the blink of an eye. I can’t explain it any better, but anyone who’s faced him knows what I mean…’

‘Everyone fails against Vasusena in exactly the same way, Agraja,’ Partha added. ‘By the time you can aim at Vasusena he’s already sent his arrows at you, usually more than one. His strategy makes him near-invincible. He gives his opponent no chance to attack him. I’m constantly on the defensive and…’

Dharma cut in, ‘And this is your excuse? Partha? Bhim? Puuya! You’re supposed to be great warriors, and here you are, telling me tales like children…Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? I am, to have you cowards for my brothers! Weren’t you there on the battlefield today, when he spat in my face, when he called out those despicable insults. And those weapons… First Asvattama had us grovelling in the mud like fools, and then Vasusena arrived to rub our faces in it today!’

‘Dharma…’ Dhaumya tried to intervene. His eyes were tired from attending to the innumerable men who lay in the infirmary tent, and his hands were bloody. ‘We’re all at the end of our tethers. Let it be…’

‘Let it be? Let what be, Acharya? Defeat? Dishonour?’

‘Dharma…’ This time it was Govinda who spoke.

‘What, Govinda? First him, now you… How easy it is for those who do not fight to offer advice. This is a battlefield, and the privilege to comment on battle must be earned with blood.’

‘And he has that privilege,’ Yuyudhana snapped. ‘As for Govinda not fighting – don’t worry, I’ve killed enough for the both of us, and then some.’

‘Vathu!’ Dharma snapped. ‘Stay out of this! All of you stay out of this! This is between me and my brother!’ He turned once again to Partha, and said, ‘My brother, the one I trusted the most, the one I’ve cherished as a son all these years. He goes out there, the so-called hero of Aryavarta, and makes a mockery of us! All you’re good for is womanizing! Muhira!’

‘At least,’ Partha growled, ‘I’m not a hypocrite. But you…? Every night, you lie in Panchali’s bed, sated and spent, while out there men are dying for you! Even now you speak to me bearing her perfume on your body, and I stand before you with the blood of soldiers on my hands. How dare you call me a coward! I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Find someone else to wage your war!’

With that, Partha threw down his weapons and stormed out of the tent. He paused as he walked past Panchali, and then, he was gone.

Dharma watched him go, his eyes narrowing with the silent conviction of one who believed himself to be right. At length, he said, ‘Well then, let’s get down to it…’

‘You need to call him back, Dharma,’ Govinda softly ventured.

‘What?’

‘We need Partha. We need him because he is a great warrior and because, as you so rightly pointed out, everyone thinks he is a hero. Whether you admit it or not, the men need him to look up to.’

Dharma lost what little control he had left. ‘We need him? We need him? No, we don’t! I am Emperor here, not Partha Savyasachin! You’re to blame for this display of his ego, Govinda! You’ve made him believe that he’s indispensable. Well, you both are wrong!’

‘Agraja…’ Bhim began.

‘Are you my brother, or not, Bhim?’ Dharma said.

‘Agraja, I…’

‘Will you fight or not, without Partha?’

Bhim hesitated before answering, ‘I’ll do as you command, Agraja.’

‘And you, my brothers?’ Dharma turned to Nakul and Sadev. ‘Will you fight?’

Both men nodded.

‘And what about you, Commander?’

Dhrstyadymn said nothing, but glanced at Govinda.

‘Oh, so it’s come to that, has it?’ Dharma shouted. ‘Now you will defy me, will you, Govinda? What will you do, if I refuse to yield? Kill me and take all that you’ve wanted for your own? Come, Govinda; come Yuyudhana; come now, all at once. My brothers, kinsmen, friends…sate your thirst with my blood and let this torment be over, by Rudra!’

‘Dharma, please…’ Govinda’s voice was unusually strained. He looked around at the angry faces and heaving chests, and made his decision. Walking up to Dharma, he slowly went down on his knees before the former emperor. With both hands, he clasped Dharma’s feet and lowered his head to the ground in the most submissive and servile of postures.

Dharma was astounded, as was everyone else around them.

‘I once called you my brother, remember?’ Govinda said, his head still bowed. ‘The day we first met, at Kampilya…? That day you embraced me as you would Sadev and Nakul, and we all laughed, our hearts filled with hope for the future. I ask you now – no – I beg you, as your brother, forgive Partha his harsh words and call him back. We need him, Dharma.’

Dharma crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Your words and actions have hardly been those of the obedient brother you now claim to be, Govinda.’

‘Then, forgive me too, Your Highness. For all the loyalty I’ve shown you, for all the blood I’ve spilt for you, before Kurukshetra, forgive me and grant me this…’

Silence.

Yuyudhana glared from Govinda to Dharma, his jaws clenched tight with anger. Shikandin’s grey-green eyes flashed in anger, and a vein throbbed at Pradymna’s neck.

‘All right,’ Dharma said. ‘I forgive you both. Now get up, Govinda. Bhim, go speak to Partha. Tell him I bear him no malice. It’s been a long day for all of us, and not all that was said, was meant. Go, sleep now, all of you. Tomorrow I myself shall duel with Vasusena.’

It was a sign of how weary everyone was that no one thought to argue or protest. The gathering dispersed.

‘Come on,’ Yuyudhana gave Govinda a rough push, leading him out of the Command Tent. He did not speak again till the two of them had entered Govinda’s lodgings, when he hissed, ‘Is she really worth it, Govinda? Daruka,’ he then called out to Govinda’s captain. ‘Come, serve your Commander, who returns from grovelling at his
Emperor’s
feet… Dhik! Shame on you, Govinda!’

Govinda said, ‘Neither Dharma nor his feet determine my self-esteem. I’m one amongst many who have bowed to him for no reason. It has never bothered you all these years! Our rulers make us just one promise, and we surrender to them our lives, our liberty and dignity, all that is ours simply under the assurance of being treated with justice. But we don’t hold them to that promise, instead, we look the other way for as long as we can. Today you’re angry because I was slighted. Where was this anger all these years, Yuyudhana? For too long now divinity and destiny have legitimized what reason and compassion would not. An individual for a family, a family for the kingdom, a kingdom for an empire… And now – an empire for humanity. Of what consequence, then, is Govinda Shauri or the honour you think he’s lost at Dharma’s feet?’

Yuyudhana was unmoved. ‘You know what, Govinda. It’s true. I am a prince. I was born a prince and will die one. Unlike you, I don’t have the stomach for all this equality prattle. Like it or not, we are Arya. Behave like one! Muhira!’

He walked around ranting, kicking at the odd object that lay in his way. ‘All this for a woman…’ he muttered. ‘The
Emperor
we bleed for lies in her arms while you play the martyr… Hu!’

‘Come now…’ Govinda began, when a voice interrupted.

‘He’s right, you know.’ Panchali walked into the tent, flashing an understanding glance at Yuyudhana. ‘I’ve told you this before, Govinda. I’m not worth it.’

‘Let me be the judge of that, Panchali.’

‘It’s too great a debt to bear.’

‘It is I who is in your debt.’ Govinda took her hands in his. ‘I failed you when you needed me the most. I wasn’t there when Dharma wagered you. I wasn’t there to stop him, to stop Dussasan and Vasusena. Sometimes, I think I’ve failed you from the very first day I saw you…failed to protect what you’ve stood for.’

‘And what day was that, Govinda?’ Panchali said, her eyes holding a message that she did not put into words. She continued, ‘You did what you knew was right. We both know there are more important things out there than you and I. And that has been the compelling force for all your actions. But what has happened to you now? Where is that dispassionate Govinda?’

‘He died. You see, one day he found something that moved him to the core of his being… He died and was reborn, as he will a million times, in every age through all of Time.’

Panchali’s tone turned playful as she turned to Yuyudhana and asked, ‘How many women has he already used that line on? You should teach him some new ones…’

Unable to help himself, Yuyudhana grinned.

Shrugging, Panchali continued, ‘I don’t know what else to say, Govinda. I don’t know how else to convince you…You believe that humanity thrives on challenge and conflict, that we aren’t limited by our desires but by our abilities. Our hearts and minds are capable of dreaming of the gods themselves, though we may not walk among them… It’s a gift that you have. You’re able to look at people and see a living creature that changes and grows, not a mindless mob. You see humanity, not a teeming mass; you see oneness in us, the greater being that we are collectively. To this being millennia may be just moments, and yet you…’ She smiled, a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment, and said, ‘But I have nothing to give you in return, Govinda. Just as Aryavarta has nothing to give you in return. Years from now, what will be said about Govinda Shauri? You fight for the thankless… it is futile.’

Govinda’s eyes held contentment. ‘Aryavarta will give me exactly what you already have, Panchali. Of that I have no doubt. Now, for once, I agree with Dharma. We all ought to get some sleep…’

‘And Partha?’ Yuyudhana asked.

Govinda said, ‘Leave him to me.’

31

FOR A MOMENT, SYODDHAN THOUGHT HE WAS IN HIS ROOMS AT
the palace of Hastina, on the bed he had shared for decades with his beloved wife. Indeed, he smiled, thinking that the hazy figure he saw through half-open eyes was the loving face he had longed to look upon since the war had begun seventeen days ago.

‘Sanjaya…’ Syoddhan fell back on to his bed with disappointment as the blurred form turned into a recognizable figure, but then sat up again as he caught the smell of imminent dawn on the night air. There was much to be done before the muster of their men, including deciding on their battle plans for their day.

‘Your Highness…’ Sanjaya bowed. ‘Your father sends you his blessings.’

‘Never mind my father. What brings you here?’ Syoddhan got out of his bed and moved around his tent with efficiency. An attendant brought him rose-fragranced water for his ablutions before helping him into his war attire.

‘Devala has returned. He brings a visitor. Vasusena waits for you in the Command Tent,’ Sanjaya reported.

‘And you came all the way from Hastina to tell me this?’

Sanjaya did not answer, but looked on with expressionless comity.

Syoddhan splashed water on to his face, dispelling the last traces of sleep, before saying. ‘Tell him I will be there shortly. As I suppose, you will too?’

‘If that is what you wish.’

Syoddhan paused, tempted to say what it was he wished for right then in the depth of his heart – that Sanjaya were dead, that they were all dead, and that this endless nightmare was over. But the moment passed. ‘Go…’ Syoddhan ordered. ‘You too,’ he added, turning to the attendant.

Alone, Syoddhan stared at the rose petals in the water, taking in their fragrance, their fragile beauty – qualities incongruous with the barren, bloodsoaked land of Kuru’s Fields. Then he raised his head and let the smell of war choke his senses.

‘Well, Vasusena?’ Syoddhan began without prelude as he walked into the Command Tent. He was too tired for formality or chatter. Victory was within their reach, as Vasusena had promised, but Syoddhan could not ignore the price they had paid for it. Of the ninety-nine brothers who had stood by his side, only Dussasan and two others remained alive. Syoddhan knew he trod on dangerous ground, that any time now Dussasan would lose the faith he had left in his brother, or worse, gain enough faith in himself to do the unthinkable. That, however, was a war he would wage in its own time. For now Syoddhan relied on Asvattama and his personal guard to keep him safe, and found the will to go on, day after day, by becoming one with the conflict at hand. Of course, he drew consolation from the fact that, as far as wars went, Dharma had suffered worse losses than he had.

With a weary sigh, Syoddhan began strapping on the armour that Dron had given him less than a week ago, wondering if truly such few days had passed. It felt like a lifetime, a lifetime in which emotion had risen and ebbed, reason had stood paramount at times and at others been lost in darkness. And now Devala Asita, in whom he and the others had placed their confidence, had returned.

‘Well…?’ he repeated, looking up.

‘I’ve verified it with Asvattama here,’ Vasusena replied, gesturing to the tall warrior who stood leaning gracefully against a tentpole.

‘And what do you think?’

Asvattama turned over the signet ring that he held. It was shaped as a coiled snake with seven hoods, each one set with coloured jewels for fiery eyes. ‘It’s the signet ring of the Naga kings, no doubt. This is their royal crest.’