Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles)

by Krishna Udayasankar

  ‘With greater respect, Pradymna, Shisupala would never, ever, kill one of his own. In his own way he’s always been fond of you. That could be to our advantage.’

  ‘Please,’ Rukmavati added. ‘It’s not my father’s armies alone that you must face. The Emperor has sent us a lot of his soldiers in a show of friendship. Those men are a bloodthirsty lot.’

  ‘Like most imperial soldiers,’ Govinda said, then added cheekily, ‘and for future reference, my dear, that kind of observation is more likely to send me scurrying towards trouble, not keep me from it.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts. You two do as I tell you.’ With that, Govinda turned the horse around and headed back across the river.

  Rukmavati and Pradymna stood where they were, watching the disappearing figure for a while.

  ‘Come,’ Pradymna eventually said. They continued across the river and clambered on to the other side. ‘Go straight,’ he mumbled.

  ‘But it’s just the hills ahead,’ Rukmavati said.

  ‘Govinda Shauri doesn’t speak in vain,’ he told her. His voice filled with pride and renewed energy he declared, ‘My father knows what he’s doing. Go. Ride straight. Use that line of shadows to keep direction.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I can’t leave my father behind to fight alone. You know that.’

  ‘Then let me stay too.’

  ‘Rukmavati, please,’ Pradymna urged her. ‘You have to trust my father. He has a plan, of that I’m sure. Go now, hurry. And whatever happens, keep going.’

  Rukmavati nodded, feeling more afraid than ever. On an impulse, she leaned across and gently kissed Pradymna. He looked at her with surprise, then displayed his usual cheeky grin. Without waiting for her to leave he wheeled his horse around and headed back to join Govinda.

  Rukmavati urged Balahak on. The undulating land rose in a small peak, before it began to gently slope downwards to meet the mountains. At the crest, Rukmavati turned back for one last look. Pradymna had caught up with Govinda and the two men were cantering towards Rukmi and his massive army, as though father and son had no cares in the world. With a sob, she turned away and continued forward. Within moments, she was out of view.

  Time stopped for Rukmavati. She let Balahak amble on towards the mountains. The tears she had held back now flowed freely. There was no way Govinda and Pradymna could escape. She had led them to their deaths with her stupid notions of romance and adventure. It was all her fault. As Balahak came to a stop, she hung her head and sobbed her heart out. Then, still sniffling and weeping, she looked around her.

  It seemed like a normal day – pleasant and serene. The sky was shot with purple and gold as the sun had began to set, falling behind the mountains with unexpected speed. The huge shimmering red orb was unnaturally large as it disappeared from view. In the dimming light the dark outline of the mountains looked inviting, like sleep after a long day. Across the river, she suspected, Govinda and Pradymna were probably already dead.

  Rukmavati resolved to ride to the foothills as she had been told to, even if it was only to stand in front of the impassable rock and wait for her father to find her. Despondent, she nudged Balahak on.

  Suddenly she saw a flash of light – like a spark, only much larger. Taken by surprise, she gasped. In that moment, it was gone.

  She flicked the reins but found it was unnecessary. Balahak reared up of his own accord and set off at a gallop. As the stallion gathered speed she saw the flash for a second time – golden and red fire in the colour of the setting sun. It took a moment, but Rukmavati realized with a shock that it was the setting sun. There was a gap between the mountains, a pass of some sort, which just barely let the beams through. Her heart thudding wildly, she rode on, making straight for the flash. She had no idea how Govinda had known, but this had to have been a part of his plan. She rode faster still, but darkness swiftly descended around her.

  Rukmavati cried out softly in despair. She knew she was not very far from the mountains but she could no longer make out their detail, for they appeared as one dark shadow despite the light of the moon. Ignoring her anguish, Balahak kept going. She screamed unwittingly, thinking the horse was about to smash into the rock, but to her surprise they went clean through a narrow pass.

  Balahak came to a stop in that darkness with a precision that came from his familiarity with the surroundings and memory of his absent master’s previous commands. Rukmavati, however, was more lost than ever. Her breath resounded softly in the space, telling her that she was in a cavern of some sort. Even as a new wave of panic settled on her, a voice gently reassured her that she was safe. She cried out in fear, feeling far from reassured, but gradually noticed that Balahak was calm and seemed to recognize the speaker. Rukmavati took courage from that fact and tried to calm down. Her eyes gradually got used to the dimness and could begin to make out the outlines of things around her. She heard the rasp as a flint was struck and by its yellow light saw a kind, rounded face she recognized as Balabadra, Govinda’s brother. The light then fell on a man holding up a banner and she could distinctly make out the emblem of a soaring eagle – Govinda Shauri’s emblem. She realized these men had come to his aid.

  ‘Hurry!’ she burst out. ‘Across the river, they’re on the plain there. My father has over three, four hundred men, many of them imperial soldiers.’

  Balabadra called out to his commanders and ordered all the torches to be lit. He turned back to Rukmavati, ‘You’d better stay here. We’ll come back for you.’

  She shook her head and in a tremulous voice said, ‘Pradymna …’

  He sighed and then gestured to a young man, who came forward. ‘Samva here will take care of you. He’s Pradymna’s brother and his best friend …’

  Rukmavati nodded and stood aside as the men filed out of the narrow pass.

  Once they were past the entrance, they fell into formation as two wings and made to cross the river. The light of their flares as they swooped down the slope towards the water was enough to create a panic amidst Rukmi’s forces. Astonished, even terrified, cries rose into the night.

  Rukmavati rode at the rear, along with Samva, who alternated between looking at her and at the men riding ahead.

  ‘He told me, you know …’ Samva began without preamble. ‘Pradymna … He told me you had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. I thought he’d gone mad, the way he went on and on about you …’

  ‘He’d seen me before?’ Rukmavati asked, surprised.

  Samva nodded. ‘At Indr-prastha, when the foundation stone was laid. You were sitting with your father and grandfather.’

  She began to feel less bashful now. ‘How did you all know? And how did you get here just in time?’

  ‘We sailed down the coast from Dwaraka and took the pass through the mountains. Your father’s spies had no clue …’ he chuckled.

  ‘Amazing!’

  ‘Mahamatra,’ Samva said, with a mock air of formality, ‘if Dwaraka is to be your home and Pradymna your irredeemable slave in matrimony, then there’s one thing that you should never forget …’

  ‘Which is …?’

  Samva said, with discernible pride, ‘Govinda Shauri always has a plan.’

  He slowed down as they reached the elevation just before the river and then came to a stop. ‘Look,’ he pointed.

  The moon shone down as bright as the sun, and the clanging of metal against metal and the cries of men carried well across the water. Despite the distance at which the battle was taking place, Rukmavati could see that the last of the Yadu soldiers had now forded the river and had thrown themselves into the fray. Though outnumbered, the men of Dwaraka fought bravely, tactically using cluster formations that allowed them to fight back-to-back. Her eyes searched out and found the figures of Govinda and Pradymna as they fought together at the frontlines. She clenched her fists tight as she saw Pradymna raise his sword to land a fatal stroke on her father. But the blade did not fall as another gleam of metal intervene
d. Govinda had barred the blow, and he was furious with Pradymna.

  Rukmi and Govinda then briefly spoke, after which Rukmi turned away and shouted out orders to his men to withdraw. Jarasandha’s soldiers, led by a surly captain, were the last to comply, but Govinda and his men had already lowered their weapons and let the Emperor’s forces retreat, unharmed.

  It was over. What should have been a massacre of two men had turned, in moments, into an even battle, which had ended as quickly as it had started.

  Pradymna was greeted with loud cheers from the men as he rode swiftly towards the river.

  Winking at Rukmavati, Samva said, ‘Well, goodnight then. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t let that rogue bother you too much …’ Before she could reply, Samva was already making his way across the river.

  The two brothers met on the opposite bank to embrace and then Pradymna was splashing his way across to Rukmavati. Crying with relief, she dismounted and ran to him. He swung off his horse and took her in his arms. Neither of them cared that the entire army of Narayaniyas applauded them on with all gusto as they kissed passionately. With an inaudible shout at the jubilant soldiers, Pradymna took Rukmavati’s hand and led her away from the river, out of view.

  Dwaraka welcomed Pradymna and his bride with great fervour and unceasing festivity. Initially, Rukmavati was a little frightened by the splendour of the city and the open-hearted jubilation of its citizens. She had hardly spoken to men in all her life and here she found herself surrounded by Pradymna’s cousins, who good-naturedly teased her and openly joked with her about her new husband’s foibles.

  Thankfully, Balabadra’s wife Raivati, who was both perceptive and sympathetic, took Rukmavati under her wing. That, however, could hardly stop the customary bantering between the women.

  ‘They’re just a bunch of louts,’ Raivati gleefully informed the younger woman. ‘You just keep a sharp tongue ready, my dear, and you’ll be fine!’

  Rukmavati smiled shyly. She already felt much more at ease. Dwaraka’s people were brave and honest and she did not see the slightest sign of either fear or sadness in anyone’s eyes. But there were also many things she did not understand.

  ‘When do I meet your father’s wives?’ she asked Pradymna a few days after she had arrived.

  Pradymna laughed.

  ‘Why … what?’ she said, perplexed.

  ‘My father,’ Pradymna bundled her close into his arms and replied, ‘has thousands of wives …’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Once, in the early years, when we had just founded Dwaraka,’ Pradymna began, ‘a great host of women came to our gates, seeking refuge. Some were concubines and prostitutes by profession, others were slave-born women. There were also women of royal lineage, abandoned because they had been taken away as plunder, or raped and left behind, when one kingdom warred with another. They’d heard about the many-gated city that welcomed everyone … They came from all over Aryavarta, braving cold and heat and hunger. Some of them had walked leagues and leagues, barefoot through blistering deserts and over harsh stone mountains, just to reach Dwaraka. These women, hundreds of them, were thrown into dungeon-like caverns, while the newly formed Council of Representatives leisurely debated over what ought to be done with them. In the end, those willing to pursue their lives as courtesans, prostitutes or entertainers were offered jobs in the city itself.’

  ‘And the rest?’ Rukmavati prompted, wide-eyed.

  ‘The rest were a damned inconvenience. The Council turned them away. Many of them were just girls. My father stood on the turrets over the city gates and declared that each and every one of those women was to be treated as his wife and accorded every respect. He said they were free to come and go as they pleased, answerable only to the laws of the land and to their own consciences. To dishonour them would be to dishonour him.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Why, Dwaraka is full of them. My father would gladly support them, but … I don’t think many of them would give up their newfound respect so easily. They earn their own keep as administrators, port officials, medics. A few are soldiers too. Even those who work as courtesans and attendants, some of them right here in our mansions – you can tell them by the way they carry themselves. There’s a kind of pride, a simmering confidence they possess, if I can call at that. And you can always, always, tell them by the way they look at my father … There’s a certain something in their eyes. Love, adoration … I don’t know what to call it. I’ve seen the contentment, the power even, that they feel by trusting him completely – like they’ve solved one of life’s greatest mysteries.

  ‘Everything we do – our scriptures, our notions of duty, all our history and our common sense, all of it tells us that there is a greater truth that we aspire for, an understanding of some higher knowledge that will give us ultimate liberation. Somehow, these women find that in this complex relationship they have with my father. It’s like they become one with the world, they look at every living creature with loving eyes and tender affection.’

  Rukmavati felt tears well up in her eyes. She buried her face in Pradymna’s chest and tried not to cry, but he gently raised her chin, forcing her to look up. Only then did she realize that he too was fighting back tears.

  ‘I never really understood, all these years …’ Pradymna said, his voice hoarse. ‘You know, he’d always joke and claim he had no time for matters like falling in love, or marriage, because Dwaraka was everything to him. And that’s what I used to think, too. I used to think that it’s the land of hope and freedom, that it was the only thing in life worth anything … Then I found you, my love. Now, I understand the empty life my father has chosen for himself. Nothing is more precious to my father than the people of these lands. Govinda Shauri cannot belong to any one person. He never could …’

  4

  ‘YOUR COUSIN DOESN’T LIKE GOVINDA, DOES HE?’ PANCHALI ventured as she pulled irately at the gauzy veil she had worn to King Dhritarastra’s royal assembly at Hastina that morning, forgetting the jewelled hair-pin that held it in place. Hissing at the slight pain she inflicted on herself, she walked over to the burnished mirror to carefully remove both pin and veil. Turning around, she threw them onto the bed in exasperation. Dharma came over to help her undo the heavy necklace that Dhristarastra had gifted her long ago. It was not an ornament she liked too much, but to not wear it to the assembly would have bordered on an insult to the king. Panchali nodded her thanks for the assistance as Dharma took off the necklace and placed it on the table.

  ‘Perhaps Govinda was being hasty – turning up with his men the way he did,’ Dharma said casually, in reply to her earlier question. ‘The girl was, after all, spoken for by Shisupala. Having said that,’ he added quickly as he caught Panchali glaring at him, ‘if the girl sought to marry Pradymna, the young man was duty-bound to oblige her. As a father, Govinda has every right to be involved in the affair.’

  ‘This is about more than romance and hurt egos, Dharma. If the alliance between Chedi and Vidharbha had gone as planned then Dwaraka would effectively have been cut off from central Aryavarta. Sooner or later, Shisupala and Jarasandha would have attacked them and we wouldn’t have been able to go to their aid. Govinda has achieved what many considered impossible, and that too without a war. Here, in the centre, the Kuru–Panchala alliance holds strong, while the Chedi–Vidharbha alliance has been foiled. Shisupala and Syoddhan did not actually fight Govinda – don’t you realize what that means? Already, Jarasandha’s power has been undermined. His most faithful followers have begun to think for themselves instead of blindly supporting him. Vasusena will follow Syoddhan, and half the vassals to the Kashi kings are kinsmen to the Angas. It’s like a stack of clay pots – pull one out from the bottom and they all come tumbling down.’

  ‘Then the Yadus are asking for war …’

  ‘War? Hardly,’ Panchali scoffed. ‘War was averted the moment we were married and the alliance between Panchala and Kuru was cast in stone. Since then, Subadra�
�s marriage to Partha, the burning of Kandava, and your investiture as king have all served to deflect war further, that too in a way the Emperor probably did not foresee at all. Why, Jarasandha has already drawn back most of his troops and waits uneasily for Govinda’s next move. He seems to be on the defensive. If you think about it, it also explains why Govinda was willing to give up the secret of the passage through the mountains – which is what, I suspect, really irked Syoddhan.’

  ‘As it probably does many others,’ Dharma pointed out. He lay down on the bed with a tired sigh, and said, ‘Rukmi’s scouts had no idea of its existence, even though one end of the passageway opens out on to their lands. It raises many questions, including how the Yadus came to know of it or even whether they built it. The latter seems unlikely, though. Something like that would take years, decades to carve out and it certainly couldn’t be done surreptitiously. The only likely explanation I can think of is that the passage must be a natural feature. The Yadus must have found it when they were exploring the area around Anarrta during the building of Dwaraka. No one’s ever really bothered much with that region. In fact, the marshland and mountains were largely uninhabited till Dwaraka was established.’

  Panchali considered the argument as she walked around the room putting out all the lamps, save one. She drew a latticed iron shutter over the last lit lamp before slipping into bed next to Dharma. ‘In that case,’ she said at length, continuing the conversation, ‘Govinda is in an even more powerful position than I had thought. True, he had other motivations, like gaining an alliance with Vidharbha and, of course, one supposes he loves his son. But he wouldn’t have given up what essentially seems to be a strategic secret unless he was sure that his position was strong.’

  ‘In that case,’ Dharma pointedly said, ‘he’s made a tactical mistake. He is not strong. He still faces the risk of war, and this time with all of Aryavarta. At the end of the day Jarasandha is the Emperor of Aryavarta and we owe him our allegiance. Even if that means war against Dwaraka, against our friends …’