The First Aryan

by Paramu Kurumathur

  After this long and intense discussion, the two students went back to bed. Kaśyapa tossed and turned, sleeping fitfully—neither was he fully asleep nor fully awake. He dreamt a lot. One moment, he could hear the kitchen servants shouting at each other as they washed the dining hall floor. Next, he saw somebody walking with a lamp just outside their door. Was he dreaming or was this real? There was a circus of shadows and colours. Suddenly, he saw the king’s disturbed face while talking to two children, telling them that he will soon be able to decide who he will give the fruit in his hand to. The next moment, the queen waved her blue fingers at him, rebuking him. He saw Vasiṣṭha and Jaraduṣṭra dressed like wrestlers, wrestling in the palace quadrangle. The next moment, some people turned blue and others green—one of them even had red hands, as if there was blood on them. And then he saw Ghoṣā’s wonderful face beckoning him to her bed.

  He certainly had had too much to eat and indigestion plagued him all night. Once, he even sat up and looked around. Agastya and Bhārgava were in their beds. He got up and, deciding that he needed some fresh air, went for a walk around the castle, close to the wall.

  *

  The eastern gate was open and workers were bringing in provisions. There were some ox-carts inside and a few guards were up and about. He saw some carts waiting for entry. Beyond them was a wide expanse of the semi-desert landscape. A crescent moon had just risen near Punarvasu. He thought he could see Venus rising, but he wasn’t too sure. He guessed the new moon was four or five days away. He went back into the palace and walked across the sacrificial hall towards the open quadrangle. As he was walking in, he thought he saw the commander’s silhouette in the veranda. He became sure it was him when he saw the shadow of the dagger. He may have been patrolling the palace and was now returning to his room after making sure everyone was safe.

  The palace was quiet. He got down into the dark pit of the quadrangle and looked up. It was a dark sky with a few stars. He could clearly see the constellation of five stars that looked like a snake raising its head up from a coiled position, with the lowest of the three coils being the tightest. He did not know the name of this constellation; maybe the Aryans did not have a name for it—neither the sun and moon nor the planets ever came near it. But it was a very prominent constellation. Vasiṣṭha had taught all his students how to tell the time based on the position of the stars—different groups of stars were helpful during different seasons of the year. He could tell that it was the fourth part of the night.

  He saw Veśa coming out of the prince’s room and walking around the quadrangle. Thankfully, Veśa couldn’t see him because he was standing in the dark. Maybe the prince wanted something. It was close to daybreak. Soon, the palace servants would start going about their daily chores. He got up and went back to his room, thinking about how he would present his observations and the news that there was a strong possibility that he knew who the killer was before the prince and his guru. He thought of discussing things once again with Agastya, but both he and Bhārgava were fast asleep.

  How would the elders react? And how would the murderer himself react? Would he confess or deny Kaśyapa’s deductions? He slowly fell into a deep sleep. Little did he know that he would never need to bring it up at all.

  Unbeknown to him, the alleged murderer was killed that night.

  20

  Vāyata Dies

  Kaśyapa woke up with a start—he had heard somebody shout. The servants were running all around, looking frightened and talking in hushed voices. It was still dark but dawn was breaking. It must have been the last part of the night, the time when he and Agastya normally woke up. That morning, however, nobody was paying any attention to them. Kaśyapa saw that there was a small group of servants standing across the quadrangle, at the door to Jaraduṣṭra’s room.

  He shook Agastya awake and they ran across to Jaraduṣṭra’s room, forcing their way in. Somebody had lit the oil lamp near the entrance of the room. Jaraduṣṭra was standing inside, frozen in shock. Everyone was looking at Vāyata, who was on the floor with his back to the door, on a mat, cross-legged but slumped forward with his head almost touching the floor. They went closer to him and saw a pool of blood on the floor near where his head was and a thin trail that had flowed from his right ear on to his neck and shoulders. He did not seem to be bleeding at that moment; there was no movement and it was plain that he was dead.

  Somebody shouted, ‘He is dead. He is not breathing.’

  From where he stood, Kaśyapa could not see clearly where the blood was originating from. Nor was it apparent how he had died.

  The servants had already informed Sudās, Vasiṣṭha and the others—they would be there any moment. Kaśyapa wanted to make the best use of the opportunity before they came and so, hesitantly, went towards the body for a closer look. Agastya too went with him. Vāyata’s right side was exposed to the dim light. They could make out that the blood had flowed out from behind his ear where the head had been bashed in. Kaśyapa’s first impression was that Vāyata may have been meditating when somebody crept into the room and attacked him from behind. He had, perhaps, neither heard nor seen his assailant. Sudās and Vasiṣṭha walked in at that moment.

  ‘This is terrible. What do you think?’ the prince said as he turned to look at Kaśyapa, who suddenly felt flattered and important.

  ‘Sir, I think Vāyata has been murdered.’ There was no doubt. He had indeed been murdered, that too horribly.

  ‘Are you sure he is dead?’

  ‘Yes. He is not breathing.’

  The prince turned to Vasiṣṭha. ‘We should get the royal physician to seek his opinion.’

  By then there was bedlam in the palace. The women had woken up and rushed to the site. Queen Menakā stood next to the princess; it must have been a great shock for the princess—such violent happenings were rare in Dasyu kingdoms. The physician came in and looked at the body. He said that Vāyata seemed to have been struck on the side of his head, possibly with an axe. The blow had been so violent that parts of his brain seemed to have oozed out from beneath his skull. It could have been that Vāyata had bled to death.

  The vassal kings, who were used to such violence, did not seem particularly perturbed, but the entire party at the castle was in shock. Bhārgava had slept through the commotion and appeared quite distressed when Agastya woke him up and briefed him of the developments.

  Their guru gave instructions to the priests who had been called in from the nearby city. There was a question as to whether the body should be cremated or buried. Jaraduṣṭra opined that it was best to bury the body. Vasiṣṭha agreed. The funeral was to take place around the third part of the day. The ceremonies leading up to the burial were to be conducted by the local priests. The body was laid on the ground that had been smeared with cow dung. It was then washed and clothed in fresh garments before being taken on a bamboo stretcher through the eastern gate and around the wall to the south of the castle. As the body was taken to the place of the funeral, priests chanted verses asking the dead to unite with Yama and the Fathers, leaving his sins behind.

  The mourners then formed a group near the burial pit. A bow that had been placed on the body was then taken away with the following words:

  From his dead hand I take the bow he carried, that it may be our power and might and glory.’19

  Parts of a sacrificed goat were placed with the body, as an offering to Agni.

  The body was then lowered into the pit and covered with the following words:

  Cover him, as a mother wraps her skirt about her child, O Earth.20

  The mourners then returned, washed themselves, changed their garments and passed under a yoke made of the branches of a purifying tree.

  Their guru told the boys, ‘I hope you understood the significance of the ceremonies. When a person dies a normal death, the ceremonies are designed to send his soul to liberation from the cycle of births and deaths. In this case, the ceremonies sent his soul to take birth in another bo
dy. Your soul does not get liberation if you die a violent death.’

  Kaśyapa found this very unsettling. It was not Vāyata’s fault that he had died a violent death. Vasiṣṭha explained to his students that the fact that one dies a violent death indicates that one’s soul is not ready for liberation.

  The prince then requested the guru to conduct an inquiry into Vāyata’s death. Consequently, Vasiṣṭha talked to all the people who were present in the castle that night. Essentially, what came out of this inquest was this: Vāyata had been murdered, and from the consistency of the blood at the time the body was discovered early in the morning, the royal physician was able to testify that the killing happened in the fourth part of the night. Nobody had seen or heard anything. Everybody was asleep at the time, or so they claimed.

  The guru then called Kaśyapa aside and told him to add this murder to the other ones he was looking into, since it was clear that the murderer was still among them. At least this was a certain murder and everybody knew it. There was no need for Kaśyapa to hide his investigations any more.

  Kaśyapa was quite affected by the death at first, though later he came to realize that the body people are born with is only a temporary abode for the eternal self and, hence, he should not grieve at death. The king, the queen and others also, he saw, were upset. The guru took the events quite stoically. Agastya was also quite courageous about the whole episode. Bhārgava and Jaraduṣṭra showed no outward emotion, but Kaśyapa was not very sure about how they actually felt.

  But emotions or no emotions, the entire castle—and as they would see in a fortnight’s time, the entire kingdom—was abuzz with questions and rumours. They later came to know that the rumours went to ridiculous extents. Some people thought that Vāyata had committed suicide, others thought that the castle had been attacked by enemies and Vāyata had been killed by the enemy soldiers who were looking for the prince. The king, the commander, the prince and others, including the queen, were rumoured to have been seen going with weapons to the victim’s room. When a rumour goes from ear to ear, there is always some embellishment added to it!

  In the back of their minds, they were also conscious of the great tragedy that had befallen them. Why was Vāyata killed? Why in such a brutal manner? Why in this setting when the vassal kings were visiting? What was the motive? Why was he so important? Was there a mistake and was Jaraduṣṭra the intended victim? Everybody in the castle that night seemed to have had a convenient chance to kill Vāyata.

  *

  The heat showed no signs of mercy. All of them hoped that the pre-monsoon showers would come soon. Two days after the murder, the vassal kings went back to their kingdoms with their staff. And, on one of the afternoons that followed, the pre-monsoon rains came pouring down as welcome relief. And how it poured! The first rain lasted till late evening. All of them gathered in the veranda outside and around the open quadrangle, watching the rain pour down.

  While they all felt relieved, they soon were reminded of the primary reason they had come to the castle—to control the rebelling kings. With the objective achieved, it was time to return, having been away from the capital for a long time. The murder had foiled all their plans and shaken them. Nobody felt safe anywhere.

  Soon, the prince decided that there was no point staying there any longer. He decreed that after the ten days of mourning were complete, they would all go back. Kaśyapa and Agastya were still recovering from the shock. Why did he have to die in this horrible fashion? They were prepared to go to the prince and the guru to say that Vāyata was Atharvan and Kutsa’s killer. Did not his death exonerate him? If the three murders were connected, then certainly Vāyata was not a murderer, having become a victim himself. Unless someone else who was close, for whatever reason, to Atharvan or Kutsa may have figured out that Vāyata was the murderer and taken revenge. If Kaśyapa and Agastya could have arrived at the conclusion that Vāyata was responsible for the murders, surely the others could too.

  Kaśyapa knew now in his heart that his conclusions about Vāyata were wrong. They had to be wrong. Vāyata’s death was connected to the other two. But how? That was what he had to find out next.

  21

  The King, Queen and Jaraduṣṭra Flee

  A servant was shouting, ‘Somebody has tried to poison Princess Jabālā! She was drinking her evening glass of milk when she noticed that it had a strange taste and stopped drinking it.’

  This was shocking news. Vasiṣṭha called the royal physician who analysed the milk and declared, ‘Sir, it is not poison. It is a herb that can make pregnant women miscarry.’

  Had the princess not noticed the change in taste, there would have been a great tragedy. The herbs could not only induce abortion but also affect her fertility. Understandably, the prince was shaken. Who could have done this? The unspoken suspicion was that this was the handiwork of Queen Menakā, who was taking revenge for her own son’s death. The prince wanted to confront her, but Vasiṣṭha counselled him against it since it could alienate her further from the kingdom after the loss of her son, besides causing great strife. Vasiṣṭha said, ‘We must thank the gods that no harm has been done. You and the princess should be very careful in the future.’

  By the next day, however, this issue was overshadowed by an interesting new development. It was learnt that Turvaśa, Menakā and Jaraduṣṭra had fled with a few of their supporters, including a few soldiers who were loyal to them, a day before they were supposed to go back to Parśupur. Of course, initially, nobody thought that they had run away, that too together! It was assumed that they had gone out to confer upon something in private, or to meet somebody, coincidentally at the same time. But as the day wore on, it became clear that they had escaped. They had taken a few horses from the stable, which meant that they were determined to get away quickly. The larder keeper was one of their loyalists and he had gone with them with supplies, so they were well provisioned for their journey. One of the captains and twenty of his men, loyal to the queen, had also fled with them and, hence, they had good advice on which route to take to avoid capture by the prince’s soldiers.

  The prince and Vasiṣṭha had a discussion with Yadu.

  ‘So, it looks like they have fled. Where do you think they will go?’

  ‘My thinking is that they will go across the Vipāsa, through the territory of our vassals and further beyond, across the other rivers, to one of the large kingdoms, either to the north or to the north-west.’

  ‘Will the vassal kings allow them passage?’

  ‘Remember, sir, that they are technically the king’s vassals. And they only recently affirmed their loyalty to him. It may feel strange for them to defer to the king a few days ago and now not allow him passage through their kingdoms. They will do him no harm.’

  Vasiṣṭha spoke, ‘Prince, the king’s fleeing can be interpreted as abdication—he has left you in charge and made no promises of coming back. You can announce this and have yourself declared king.’

  ‘Oh, I had not thought of this!’ the prince said. ‘Commander, you may send out some search parties in all directions to look for them.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I suppose it would be better if the runaways are not found?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Yes, sir, I understand.’ He thought for a while and said, ‘Prince, I believe you should expect an invasion in the next few months. The queen and Jaraduṣṭra will stir up some of the Varuṇa-supporting kings to help them recapture Parśuvarta.’

  ‘How long will it take them to gather an army large enough to do so?’

  ‘At least a few months.’

  The commander sent out search parties in all directions, especially the north and west, but they all returned empty-handed. The prince had to postpone their return to the capital so that the search could be seen to be thorough.

  *

  Not long after, however, some of the queen’s servants who had been left behind spread the word that she was pregnant and that the child she was carryi
ng was not Turvaśa’s but someone else’s. Could it be Jaraduṣṭra’s? Who could tell? A mean-minded, gossipy servant could very well have made up this story about her for the sake of entertainment. But the story was hard to dismiss. The queen, after having lost her son, had not lost all hope and could have wanted to restore the kingdom to its previous order. Who could challenge Sudās’s claim to the throne except another son of Turvaśa’s? But she might have faced some opposition from the king or thought that she wanted her son to have a better father. She might therefore have sought the favour from Jaraduṣṭra. But the rumours went beyond, with some even saying that the queen had initially requested Vāyata, but he had refused. Whoever the father was, one thing was certain: the queen was carrying. Of course, she and everyone else knew that if it was proved that the child was not the king’s, then he would not have a claim to the throne. It is possible she fled so she could evade being discovered. She would have known that staying in the kingdom would have spelt doom for her unborn son. Her first son was already dead and she clearly suspected that the prince had had him killed. She was determined that her second son would live and rule Parśuvarta.

  Even without the need to protect her pregnancy, it looked like the queen had been planning to flee for some time. In fact, two days before they escaped, the queen and the king had announced that they were converting to Varuṇa worship. They had declared that all the sacrifices people were doing were wrong and gross. They had declared their allegiance to Jaraduṣṭra’s vision and his religious leadership. They went as far as to say that they disowned Vasiṣṭha and no longer accepted him as their household priest. This must have been the price extracted by Jaraduṣṭra for agreeing to the queen’s plan despite his vow of celibacy. This conversion had caused a lot of tension in the camp. The prince was furious and had immediately opposed this and told the king, with respect, that the kingdom would continue with its traditional practices.