*
*
*
24 A CITY CURSED
SUYODHANA TRIED BLOTTING OUT the misery of losing Subhadra by working with even more passion. He was being trained to rule the kingdom by Bhishma. But with the Pandavas back in the palace, he was afraid of meeting Subhadra somewhere with her husband, and he tried staying away from Hastinapura as much as possible, travelling to the remote areas of the kingdom and visiting nondescript villages and distant border towns. Aswathama was his constant companion on these journeys. Suyodhana also accompanied Vidhura on his official tours. His admiration for the Prime Minister increased with every trip. Sometimes he found time to visit his sister Sushala in Sindh. Then Karna would travel there too, and the friends would meet. On some of the trips to Sindh, they would impulsively travel on to Dwaraka, to see Balarama. They avoided the days they knew Krishna would be present. It helped that Krishna was often with the Pandavas in Khandiva, where their new city was coming up. The relationship between Subhadra and Balarama was no longer what it had been before her marriage to Arjuna and she was now closer to her other brother, Krishna.
On one such trip, Balarama proposed a pilgrimage to Kashi. Since everyone lauded the idea of travelling together, it was agreed. Under Balarama's direction, a large entourage started towards the ancient city. Jayadratha and Sushala joined them. They wished to pray at Lord Vishwanatha's shrine, as they remained childless after two years of marriage. Karna rushed back to Anga to bring his family along. They joined the others at Kashi. Karna now had an infant son and was a proud father.
On the way to Kashi, they received another pleasant surprise. Vidhura brought Dhritarashtra and Gandhari to join the pilgrimage. His own family also accompanied him. It became a standing joke in the group that Vidhura had manipulated the King and Queen in order to get a well-deserved break for himself. Vidhura denied any such thing but it was evident he was enjoying his vacation.
The moment the Royal group entered the ancient city, news spread like wildfire that the Kings of Hastinapura, Dwaraka, Anga, and Sindh, had arrived on a pilgrimage. Touts and Priests surrounded them. These were neither thinkers nor philosophers, but petty traders who sold their God for money. They stopped Vidhura and Karna from entering the sanctum sanctorum, saying they were Shudras. But having received their pieces of silver, they moved aside. They chanted mantras without knowing what they meant and invented extempore stories, attributing them to the Puranas to justify what they did. They were obsessed with ritual purity and their own superiority, yet the city and river was littered with filth. They thrived on death like vultures. They fattened themselves on the guilt of those who had lost their loved ones. They threw half-burned bodies into the Ganga to save firewood and maximize profit. Death was a thriving industry in the holiest city of India. No enemy of the country could have treated the holy river worse, even though its waters were sacred to all races and castes from the Himalayas to the southern seas. Yet they considered themselves pious and treated others with contempt.
The vassal King of Kashi came to pay his respects to Dhritarashtra, who accepted his invitation to stay at the palace. As they waited near the river, hundreds of women came down the steps with oil lamps in their hands. When the waters of the Ganga turned saffron in the evening sun, they began singing hymns that were as old as humanity. They created golden arcs in the air as they moved the oil lamps in a circle and Suyodhana, who was seeing the famed evening Ganga aarti for the first time, stood spellbound. The hymns were the humble tribute of an ancient civilization to a great river. The Ganga flowed silently, caressing the land with her holy waters. From the icy glaciers of Gangotri to the warm seas of Vanga, she accepted the prayers and abuse of her children with equanimity. She took death and gave back life to India.
As the Royal group watched mesmerised, the worshippers floated the lamps onto the water, creating tiny islands of light in the vast darkness.
The last song was a prayer of thanks to all the holy rivers of India - Ganga, Sindhu, Yamuna, Brahmaputra, Saraswati, Narmada and Kaveri - for their munificence. Suyodhana wondered how a culture that revered rivers, could abuse them so heartlessly.
Servants supplied oil lamps to the Royal group and Suyodhana slowly walked down the steps of the ghat to the river, trying to keep the flickering lamp alight in the playful breeze. As he was about to put his feet into the water, he heard a soft voice behind him say, "No, do not touch the Holy Mother with your feet first. It is a great sin." Suyodhana turned in surprise and his heart skipped a beat. He was afraid that if he did not avert his eyes from what he saw, he would lose his heart, yet again. The wounds Subhadra had inflicted had yet to heal and he was afraid of love. So he looked into the distance, towards the distant bend in the river, where a few funeral pyres were still burning. He could see a Priest gesturing to a chandala to topple a half-burnt corpse into the river. He imagined he could hear the hiss as it fell into the water, disturbing the floating lamps.
Without turning, Suyodhana said, "Devi, you say the river is so holy that one should not put one's feet into her first. Can you not see the half-burned corpses floating in the water, and the filth and garbage?" He knew what he said was provocative and hoped she would either argue or go away. He did not want to look into the depths of her dark eyes or see her lovely lips reflecting the golden light of the lamp she held. He turned away, not expecting a reply.
When he heard the rustling of her skirts, he turned to see her leaning towards the water, scooping some into her cupped hands. The lamp she had floated swirled away in circles, starting its journey towards the distant sea. Her eyes were closed in meditation as the river water seeped through her long fingers. He could not look away. Unexpectedly, she opened her eyes and caught him staring at her. She smiled at his embarrassment.
He knelt beside her and gently placed his own lamp upon the water. They watched it float away together. Suyodhana asked, "Devi, may I have the honour of knowing your name?" He tried to suppress the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. His mouth went dry when she did not respond immediately.
Finally, she said, "Bhanumati, daughter of King Bhagadatha of Pragjyothisha."
"I am Suyodhana, firstborn of King Dhritarashtra."
"I know. I have heard about you."
"I hope they were only good things," said Suyodhana smiling.
"Not always." A mischievous smile played on Bhanumati's lips.
"Will you marry me?" asked the Prince, astonishing himself. He regretted the words as soon as he had uttered them.
"Is it not preposterous to ask me like this?" Bhanumati turned away her blushing face.
Suyodhana flushed too. He did not know how to handle the situation he found himself in. 'Was there ever a fool like me? What possessed me?' he wondered. His heart hammered in his chest.
"But I like preposterous things. My father is in the temple." Hiding a smile, Bhanumati lightly ran back up the steps of the ghat. She almost collided with Vidhura, standing a few steps above them. She murmured an apology and vanished into the crowd of her ladies.
It took a while for Suyodhana to comprehend she had accepted his fantastic proposal. He did not know why he had proposed like that to a girl he had just met. Was his love for Subhadra so shallow?
Vidhura came up to him and asked with a gleam in his eyes, "Would you like me to speak to her father?" Suyodhana flushed seeing the mischievous smile in Vidhura's eyes.
"Please do so Sir, before he does something rash," a voice cried out from the darkness.
Suyodhana wanted to bang his head on the stone steps of the ghat when he heard it. He had completely forgotten his friend Aswathama's presence. He would certainly enact the whole scene to the others. The rascal was supposed to be meditating.
Aswathama came up to them. "Will you marry me?" he said, imitating Suyodhana's deep voice perfectly. Suyodhana aimed a punch at the mischievous Brahmin's face, but Aswathama ducked and continued in a feminine voice, "Is it not preposterous to ask me like this? But I like preposterous th
ings..." Suyodhana pounced on him, stopping him from saying anything further. But his friend slipped from his hands and ran off shouting, "Karna... Karna... do you want to hear something preposterous? Will you marry me?"
Suyodhana chased after Aswathama as his friend ducked and weaved through the crowd. People were staring at them. Suyodhana knew they were behaving like idiots. Their gaiety and laughter was sure to look like a mockery of tradition and custom to pious believers. People came to Kashi from all over India to die, and here they were brimming with life and laughter. It was not going to do his already stained reputation any good. But his immediate priority was to stop Aswathama telling Karna. He did not want to spend the night as the subject of their amusement.
"Shall I take it as a yes?" Vidhura called from the ghat to Suyodhana's disappearing form, but did not get a reply.
***
They were married in the temple of Kashi Vishwanatha in a simple ceremony, fourteen days after they had met. Karna fed the entire city and gave gifts to everyone, regardless of caste, colour or language, adding to his reputation for philanthropy. Suyodhana was glad not to have won his wife in a contest like a trophy or a prize cow. When they reached Hastinapura, the Grand Regent invited the nobles and the vassal Kings to a grand celebration. Invitations also went to the kingdoms of the Southern Confederate. It was a State occasion and the marriage of the Crown Prince was celebrated with great pomp and splendour, unlike the simple ceremony at Kashi. Among the people who attended was Krishna, who came to bless the couple. The Pandavas too, came to celebrate the occasion with their cousins. The two powerful women of the Kuru clan stood next to each other receiving their guests. Seeing all the Kurus together, the ambassadors of the Southern Confederate wondered whether the news of a schism in the Kuru clan was merely an exaggerated tale carried by their spies to please them.
"Things did not quite turn out as you wished, Gandhari," Kunti whispered, not letting the smile leave her lips.
"I do not understand what you mean, Kunti." Gandhari could sense the glee in Kunti's words and prayed Dhritarashtra would not overhear and make any nasty comments.
"We survived Varanavata, and my sons won the hand of the Panchala Princess, despite the best efforts of your son."
"Suyodhana was not involved. Why do you always suspect him?"
"Suspect! I am sure of it. Ask him why he built the house of lac for us. Or was it your husband who did that?"
"This is a happy occasion. Do not ruin it with these thoughts, Kunti. Whoever made the house of lac; it was a poor Nishada woman and her children who perished in it, not you or your sons."
"You would have preferred it to be us?" Kunti asked as she folded her hands in welcome to a minor Prince from the east coast of India.
Gandhari did not reply. She felt uneasy about the way misunderstandings and hatred were growing within the family. "We will talk about it later, Kunti. Today is an auspicious day; the Crown Prince is getting married."
"Crown Prince! Where do you get such ideas, Gandhari? Yudhishtra was married long ago."
"You won't leave it alone will you? Suyodhana is the firstborn of the reigning King. That is it."
"We will see who sits on the throne of Hastinapura finally, Gandhari. We are no pushovers."
Gandhari turned towards Kunti, a deadly smile on her face. "We will see, Kunti. Since Suyodhana is my legitimate son, he will rule this country."
Before Kunti could retort, the Pandavas and Draupadi came. "Seek the blessing of your aunt and uncle," Kunti said, all emotion gone from her voice. Draupadi and her five husbands bowed to touch Dhritarashtra and Gandhari's feet. Gandhari reached out to touch Draupadi. Her proud and erect posture surprised Gandhari. There was nothing bashful about this young woman, the Queen thought. What did she look like? She had heard Draupadi was very beautiful. But why had such a bold and lovely Princess agreed to be the wife of five men? The question nagged at Gandhari. Later, she had the opportunity to ask the Panchala Princess herself as they sat together.
"Aunt, you of all people should not ask me that question. Why did you choose blindness when Lord Bhishma brought you here?" Draupadi said. "Perhaps my mother-in-law feared her sons would fight over me. She wants them to be united," she added to diffuse the sharpness of her earlier remark.
"Daughter, I have a hundred sons but they do not need to marry the same woman to remain united. Has Kunti brought up her sons with so little self-control that they would fight over their brother's wife?" Dhritarashtra asked, as he joined them.
Draupadi hid her embarrassment by bowing low to the King. Gandhari bit her lip, fearing Kunti would overhear her husband's insensitive comments.
What she feared happened within seconds. She heard Kunti's sharp voice say to her daughter-in-law, "Yudhishtra is looking for you. What are you doing here?"
She heard Draupadi walking away. She heard her husband coughing in embarrassment. The poor man had not known that Kunti was sitting nearby. Fortunately, for him, Vidhura came to say some of the vassal Kings were waiting to greet him. She heard him walk away, chatting animatedly to his Prime Minister about irrelevant things to shut out any possibility of Kunti reacting to him. Kunti would not react to him, Gandhari knew. She braced herself for what was coming.
"You leave no opportunity to insult me or my children, Gandhari," Kunti hissed into the Queen's ear. Gandhari did not offer any reply or apology. She stood up in haughty silence, ignoring Kunti and her words. Kunti walked away, trembling with anger, leaving Gandhari to feel sad for the young girl who had to share her bed with five men so that her mother-in-law could play her political game. 'Draupadi is almost like me,' Gandhari thought. 'In this country, every woman is a tool to further the interests of men.'
***
What Suyodhana had dreaded occurred the morning after the grand feast. He came face to face with Subhadra for the first time after her marriage to Arjuna. She accompanied Bhanumati. Subhadra carried her baby son. She quietly put him into Suyodhana's arms. As her fingers brushed his, Suyodhana averted his eyes from her lovely face. The baby gave a toothless smile and cooed and the Crown Prince of Hastinapura melted. He stood tongue-tied as the baby played with the long string of pearls he was wearing. The woman he had once loved madly, chatted with his newly wedded wife as though they were long-lost friends. How could they be so nonchalant? 'Did my love mean nothing to Subhadra?' he wondered.
When the baby wet him and began crying, the women turned towards Suyodhana, laughing. Subhadra took the baby from his hands, talking to it in the language only women and babies understand. The infant stopped crying and smiled. "Does he not look like his father?" Subhadra asked Suyodhana. She did not notice the pain on his face as she cooed to her son.
The baby reached towards Suyodhana. He picked up the child and then took off the lustrous string of pearls from his neck. Folding it into four loops, he placed the necklace over the infant's head, lost in the innocent smile.
Arjuna walked into the room and stopped, seeing them all together. Subhadra ran to her husband. "Suyodhana gave this to him." She proudly displayed the valuable gift Suyodhana had bestowed on their son.
Arjuna bent to touch his cousin and Bhanumati's feet. After all, they were elder. For a while, they spoke of the celebrations and seeing so many familiar faces. Then, as Arjuna and his wife turned to leave, Suyodhana called after him, "What is his name, cousin?"
But it was Subhadra who answered. "Abhimanyu."
That night, as they lay in the massive four-poster bed, which had been a gift to them from her father, Bhanumati kissed her husband's lips and whispered, "Subhadra is a lucky woman. I wish I had a son like Abhimanyu."
Suyodhana ran his fingers through her hair, not saying anything. He was trying hard to love the woman he was holding in his arms with the same passion he had once felt for Subhadra.
***
Meanwhile, on the charred banks of the Yamuna, where once the impenetrable forests of Khandiva stood, a great city was rising. Those three years were the best of M
ayasura's life. He was a perfectionist and a tough taskmaster. The surviving Naga women and children formed the workforce for building the great city. In the searing heat of summer, the pounding rain of the monsoon, and the freezing cold of winter, Mayasura toiled, along with the frail Naga women and their emaciated children, to build his beautiful city for the Pandavas. Just for food and a humble dwelling, the coolies worked to erect the magnificent palace where Yudhishtra and his brothers would live and rule. Under the relentless drive of the young Asura, the Nagas built market places, paved roads, created gardens, and built homes. Stone by stone, they created the greatest city India had ever seen. Bigger than Dwaraka, more meticulously planned and executed than Hastinapura, lacking the urban chaos of Heheya or Muzaris, it was a blend of various styles of architecture. Mayasura experimented with different schools and fashioned temples like those of the Asuras; the musical halls with their perfect acoustics, were derived from Gandharva; the Western coastal city of Heheya inspired the markets; the inns and travellers' rest houses resembled those in Muzaris, while the sculptures were fashioned in the style of Gandhara. Mayasura created a masterpiece that somehow captured the soul of India. Its fame spread far and wide, much before it was finished.
AJAYA I -- Roll of the Dice Page 40
