The indestructible paradise lay hidden, within.
It was some time past midnight when Govinda returned to Pragjya. Uncaring of the late hour, he proceeded to wake Partha and Shikandin up. ‘We move at first light. I’ve already sent a messenger ahead. Your men will be ready,’ he told a bewildered Partha. Shikandin, however, responded to the untimely intrusion with a wide grin and the anticipation of adventure.
They rode out of the castle in the grey, wet dawn, having waited only to thank Bhagadatta and say their goodbyes. The small company made good speed, despite a torrential downpour. Using the hard bunds that ran road-like along the banks of the river, they were able to avoid the marshes and small landslides that were common to these parts. By the second evening they could see the faraway glitter of blue that was one of the Lauhitya’s greater tributaries. The fork where the two joined was one of the widest stretches. Further downstream from the fork was the huge bridge where they planned to cross into Kashi–Magadha lands.
A little before dawn on the fourth day, the three men and their small contingent arrived where Partha’s armies were camped. Despite the weather, the soldiers were visibly cheerful – the thought of sunny lands and of reaching home had rejuvenated their spirits in a way little else could have. Eager as the men were, the convoy set off quickly, Govinda and his friends riding at its head. Partha longed to ask Govinda what he had planned, but desisted.
The ride to the crossing took the whole day – the size of the river had made it seem nearer than it was – but by nightfall the entire army had assembled on its banks. The span of the river here was slightly smaller than it had been at Pragjya but it was still astonishing. What really took one’s breath away here, however, was not the natural abundance of the surroundings but the work of men. A huge bridge, wide enough for ten men to march abreast, ran clear into the distance. It was, for the most part, a mix of woodwork and stone with some sections resting on large boulders or rock formations on the bed of the river. In other places, wooden platforms gently bobbed up and down, floating on barrel-like devices that had been sealed tight to capture air within.
‘So, we camp?’ Partha asked, almost rhetorically. To his surprise, Govinda shook his head.
‘A short break,’ he said. ‘Let’s eat, and keep moving.’
‘In the dark …?’ Partha instinctively began before falling silent. Though there had been no indication of danger so far, prudence still required them to make the crossing in sections rather than at one go. Govinda, it was evident, had other ideas. He made no efforts at discretion or at caution and, in fact, led the armies in a few bawdy marching songs as the final preparations were being made. They were going home, plain and simple.
The crossing of the Lauhitya began in the early hours of the morning, by torchlight, and it continued well past daybreak. By the afternoon of the next day the entire force had forded the river without incident. Partha was nearly beside himself with happiness. Perhaps, he silently mused, this is what Govinda has been up to in the past few days away from Pragjya. Perhaps there no longer is any danger. He looked forward to a good night’s sleep ahead of him.
He was disappointed, as dusk brought more surprises. It became apparent that Govinda had already readied the divisions for nighttime marching. The soldiers took turns at sleeping on the horse-led wagons, but the army as a whole kept moving forward. At this rate, they would reach Magadha in less than three weeks – if they reached at all.
At that thought, Partha lost patience. ‘Mih! What in Rudra’s name are we doing, Govinda?’ he snapped.
Govinda’s reply sent a chill down his spine. ‘We’re walking into the trap, Partha.’
The next ten days were the most unnerving of Partha’s life. He was a hardy veteran, the man who had successfully led the campaign across the northern lands. Still, he did not have the stomach for this sort of warfare. The honourable fight, as he saw it, was the direct attack, open battle. This sort of waiting, this intrigue, was not to his taste and he openly expressed his disgust.
Govinda did not respond, but Shikandin made a sarcastic comment about Kandava. Partha said not a word more.
In what provided a pleasant reprieve, they left the incessant rain behind. While an occasional shower was impossible to avoid, the weather was mainly clear. It began getting warmer as they neared one of the large tributaries of the River Ganga. This time round, though, the crossing was not difficult. They forded the stream just as she cascaded out of the hills and onto the plains. Here, the waters were turbulent but narrow, and the many boulders and rocks deposited on the bed over time served as the foundation for a strong stone bridge.
Hardly had they crossed, when the three men noticed that something was very obviously wrong.
‘I don’t like this …’ Partha muttered softly.
‘You’re right. The tilling of these lands should have started a week or two ago, but it hasn’t. It looks abandoned … or evacuated …’ Shikandin added.
Govinda threw his head back and looked up at the clear blue sky. ‘We keep moving.’
22
THE ATTACK WAS WELL-TIMED AND PERFECTLY EXECUTED. Sudakshin, the king of Kashi, had kept his armies hidden in the small woods for days. With no reports of troop movement coming in from the scouts, Partha’s men were taken completely unawares. Unprepared though he was, Partha responded quickly the moment the first of the enemy poured out of the woods. He engaged them with a few of his men giving the others time to dig trenches and set up barricades of quickly built mud banks as well as overturned carts and spears planted into the ground. Very soon, they had established a position that was open only on two fronts, with barricades closing off the right and left flank from attack. This, they hoped, could not only be defended for a while, but it would also give them enough time to fall back to a place that afforded more safety. But it did not take them long to realize that Sudakshin’s forces had them surrounded. There was no question of falling back anymore.
As darkness fell, the situation settled into an uneasy stalemate. Sudakshin’s soldiers made the occasional attack on either front, but with some effort, they were repelled. Partha knew that these attacks were but minor skirmishes; far from the massacre he could expect if Sudakshin’s army came at them in full force.
It was well past midnight by the time he called for a meeting of all his captains, along with Shikandin and Govinda. The group convened in the small command tent, which had been set up right at the centre of their position. To everyone’s surprise, Partha retained little trace of his earlier irritation and looked completely at ease.
‘I admit,’ he told them, ‘that I was worried. But I no longer am. To march into a trap such as this, to be caught in this position, is nothing less than folly. But of one thing I am certain – Govinda Shauri is no fool. The predicament we’re in, unable to move forward or to retreat, is proof enough that an effective strategy is in place. Come, Govinda, it’s time to reveal your plan. Tell us what is to be our next move.’
‘We attack at dawn,’ Govinda announced. ‘We throw our entire might against the enemy behind us. That’s where they’ll least expect it.’
‘And the other front? Won’t they just rush in and corner us from the rear?’ one of the men queried.
‘No,’ Govinda said. ‘I’m … hopeful that we’ll have help from Bhim. The trap the enemy has laid for us will turn into a trap for them.’
‘By Varuna!’ Partha exclaimed as the implications dawned on him. His earlier conviction seemed to leave him, and angry scepticism took its place.
Some of the others too looked doubtful. ‘It’s a huge risk you’ve run, Commander,’ Partha’s senior captain spoke up. ‘I assume you’ve sent word to Magadha for reinforcements … but how can we be sure that your messengers got through, where so many of ours and Bhagadatta’s failed?’
‘If you’re asking me for certainty, my friend, I’m no oracle. I’m just a man … There’s nothing more I can offer you than the promise that I’ll personally lead our rearguard and ho
ld off an attack on the other flank.’
‘Even so, that means splitting up our forces,’ the captain countered. ‘The men are tired enough from the relentless marching. If we attack with half or even three-fifth of our men, it may not be enough.’
‘You won’t need to split up the forces,’ Shikandin added in a low growl. ‘My men and I will fight to watch your backs well enough.’
‘He’s right. We’ll begin the attack early, while it’s still misty. We need to make them think that our rearguard is well-manned. They won’t advance so quickly, then,’ Govinda added.
Partha scowled, unconvinced. ‘It’s a dangerous idea … When the enemy does attack, their force will be considerable. You’d have to fall back quickly, very quickly …’
‘Or, perhaps, not at all,’ Shikandin dryly finished.
The comment roused the other men to defend their pride. ‘In that case, we’ll honour your death by fighting to the last man,’ the captain added as his men heartily declared their assent. With a few more muttered exclamations and some indistinct grumbling, the soldiers settled down to plan their offensive.
The attack began a little before dawn. Govinda, Shikandin and the men of the Eastern Guard made full use of the darkness to take up strategic positions in the vacant trenches. Armed with an abundance of arrows, as well as flares to send signals to divisions that did not exist, they were all set to give the impression that there were more of them than actually were. The archers were arranged to shoot in alternating sequence so that a continuous volley of arrows could keep the enemy forces from advancing.
All preparations made, they waited. Partha came around for one last word before heading off to lead the attack on the other side. He found Govinda dozing. ‘Where’s Shikandin?’ he asked.
‘He’s gone ahead to scout around a bit. We figured that if he can intercept the inevitable enemy messenger who brings back news of your attack on the other side, it may give us some more time. Also, we need to know exactly when they begin moving and get a sense of their pace.’
‘He’s alone?’
‘Yes,’ Govinda affirmed, shutting his eyes again and stretching his arms out before placing them under his head as a pillow. ‘He likes to work alone, Partha. You should know that by now.’
‘But …’
‘He’ll be fine, don’t worry,’ Govinda added. ‘I’ve known Shikandin a long time and the man still astonishes me with his skills.’
Partha felt a sudden pang of guilt. He remembered the time, all those years ago, when he had fought Dhrupad and Satrajit on Dron’s behalf. As he had dragged a captive father and son to Dron’s hermitage, Dhrupad had incessantly cursed the absent Shikandin. Partha felt a little sick, recalling how he had added insult to injury by calling Dhrupad the father of a coward. He swallowed hard and turned to Govinda, only to realize that the other man was watching him by the feeble glow of the small torch that flickered nearby.
‘Yes, you should apologize. It might make you feel better,’ Govinda said.
Partha gasped. ‘How do you … never mind!’ He stood up to leave. Silently, he promised himself that if he lived through the day’s battle he would indeed apologize to Shikandin. Whatever it was that had kept the man from fighting that day, Partha now knew that it certainly had not been cowardice. With a final nod at Govinda, he left.
Govinda settled down to resume his nap, but was roused again in a few moments as Shikandin slid into the trenches, right next to him.
‘Ah, right when I was sinking into sleep. Partha just left …’
‘I know,’ Shikandin replied. ‘I was waiting for him to go. I didn’t want to say this in front of him. Govinda, this isn’t going to be easy. Sudakshin’s got a full battalion on this side alone. If we’re not getting any help … if Bhim thinks we’re dead and hasn’t sent men … Well, we soon will be. Dead, that is …’
If Shikandin was alarmed, he did not show it. Instead, he calmly pulled on the leather-finished cast metal armour that one of his men held out.
‘Only one way to find out,’ Govinda replied, sitting up to help his friend strap on the chest-plate. That done, the two men waited in battle gear, listening intently. The darkness had let up a little, but mist lay heavy over the land. They could hardly see their own hands in front of them. Soon, the distant sounds of battle came from behind them.
‘If we can hear it …’ Shikandin began.
‘So can the enemy,’ Govinda finished. He set an arrow to his bow, but did not take aim.
Shikandin whistled. His men were ready at once. He then crawled out of the trenches and moved a few feet ahead. Lying flat with his ear to the ground, he listened, judging the enemy’s advance by the thudding of the earth. In a moment he was up on his feet. Quick as lightning, he drew his bow and released a shaft. The twang of his bowstring was signal enough and the men behind him released their first volley, quickly followed by the second. By the time Govinda had his third arrow on the string, Shikandin was back at his side. Wordlessly, the men worked in unison, the combined twangs of their bowstrings disguising their true numbers.
Around them, the sounds of battle grew more intense. The first of the enemy’s spears rained down a short distance ahead of the trenches.
‘Another ten feet, and we’ll be within range …’ Shikandin noted. Grimly, he continued to shoot arrow after arrow.
‘Which means …’ Govinda said, putting down his bow.
‘Strike before they expect it?’
‘Precisely. They’ll expect us to fall back …’
‘Instead, we go ahead. Nice thinking, Govinda,’ Shikandin said. He whistled a long, shrill signal through the air. In response, his men readied themselves for a charge at the enemy. Drawing his sword, he said, ‘Ready?’
‘Always,’ replied Govinda.
At Shikandin’s signal, the men rushed out of the trenches with a fearsome yell. They crashed as one into the Kashi soldiers, breaking the head of the enemy’s formation. But quickly, the Kashi soldiers, too, repositioned themselves and fought back with fierce vengeance.
Shikandin and Govinda stood back to back, facing the enemy soldiers with surprising glee.
‘Down!’ Shikandin shouted, slashing hard as he whipped around. His sword cut through the space where Govinda’s head had been an instant ago and beheaded an oncoming attacker.
At the same time, Govinda spun under to thrust his sword through an enemy soldier. He pushed the blade deep and out the man’s back to stab another of the Kashi soldiers. By the time he had pulled his flesh-encrusted sword back out, Shikandin had disposed of two more men by stabbing them, as Govinda had his adversaries, through the small gaps in their armour.
‘So …’ Govinda shouted over the din of battle and the clash of metal on metal, ‘We draw swords together, after all these years.’
‘Yes, finally …’ Shikandin replied as he brought his weapon down fiercely on a Kashi soldier. ‘By Hara, these men don’t like us much.’
‘I wonder why,’ Govinda said. ‘I don’t suppose it has anything to do with being tricked?’ The two laughed, enjoying their partnership.
Just then the sun broke through the horizon, setting their long blades afire in streaks of red and orange. As though of one mind, both men began to recite the same ancient verse. Around them the Panchala soldiers added their own war cries.
‘We have drunk the soma nectar and become immortal!
We have attained the light, we have found the gods!
What can the malice of mortal man
Or his spite, O Immortal, do to us now?’
Despite their bold front, both Govinda and Shikandin knew that their position was far from superior. They could barely see or hear beyond the ring of vicious enemy soldiers hurtling at them, each snarling face ready and eager to crush them brutally. Although the element of surprise had initially given Shikandin’s men the upper hand, the enemy had rallied quickly. The other two opposition flanks had also drawn near.
‘Maraka!’ Shikandin cursed out lou
d as he saw that more than half his men were already down. ‘Well, at least Partha can’t complain,’ he commented dryly as he ran his blade through an enemy cavalryman, a huge man with a leering tilt to his mouth. Wheeling around smoothly, he slashed at another, letting out a growl of satisfaction as the man fell. Following his lead, the Panchala soldiers fell on the enemy with renewed vigour. Then they heard the sound. A solemn but uplifting note; an almost impossible mix of deep booming and clear ringing. The few men of the Eastern Guard still alive felt their hearts fill with renewed strength and hope.
‘What is that?’ Shikandin exclaimed.
‘Paundra,’ Govinda said. ‘The Great Horn of the East, the war conch of the Magadhan kings …’
Not much later, they heard the thundering of hooves behind them. The Kashi soldiers began falling back into the woods, and Shikandin and Govinda gradually lowered their bloodied swords, panting heavily.
‘I see that I’m just in time!’ Partha’s captain rode up, leading their horses alongside. ‘I hoped you’d ride with me,’ he said bowing, ‘but you seem rather tired …?’ Without a word Shikandin and Govinda ran up to their horses and swung into the saddle. The three men followed the rest of Partha’s cavalry into battle.
Caught between the two fronts, the enemy soldiers struggled to hold their ground. Those who tried to retreat were allowed to do so through a small break in the formation. Those who engaged were killed without hesitation. The flanks moved closer until at last Govinda could see Bhim’s tall figure across the field. The two men greeted each other with loud cheers and fell back into the battle with increased determination. Soon it was over.
Partha greeted Bhim with furious delight. ‘What took you so long!’ he complained, even as he pulled his brother into a grateful embrace. Bhim returned the gesture with equal gusto, fighting back tears of happiness and relief. But more joyous than the reunion between the two brothers was the one between Partha and Shikandin. Indeed, Shikandin was pleasantly taken aback by the way Partha gripped him tight, even as Bhim looked on, slapping both men on the back.
Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles) Page 41
