The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2

by Krishna Udayasankar

  The topic that had them engaged in debate that evening was, Panchali knew, an old favourite with her husband: Dice. Shakuni passed around the pair he owned for each of them to examine. The dice were exquisitely light, made of a dazzling white metal, and fell to the ground with a metallic clatter that was pleasing to the ear.

  ‘Dice has been considered a game of chance. Is it true that there’s not much skill involved?’ Panchali asked.

  ‘On the contrary,’ Shakuni said, ‘dice, is a rather philosophical game… In fact, I’d say that one’s beliefs determine whether it is played as a game of chance or of skill.’

  ‘Oh! Please do go on.’ Panchali took a seat in anticipation of more conversation. Dharma hesitated and then sat down next to her, while Syoddhan and Shakuni took a throne-like chair each. Asvattama, continued to stand, genially waving away Syoddhan’s gesture to sit.

  ‘It all depends on what you see as cause and consequence, Mahamatra,’ Shakuni explained. ‘If the fall of the dice is the end result, then we must ask why they fall that way. Those who believe in chance, in fate, will argue that it is predestined, and we are just tools, or a means for the dice to be cast. I’d reckon Emperor Dharma here subscribes to this view.’

  ‘Indeed I do,’ Dharma emphatically said. ‘What happens to us is the will of fate, of the gods. Even if there is means or skill involved in the throwing, that itself becomes a predestined causality.’

  ‘Or,’ Shakuni said, ‘one may believe, as Syoddhan here does, that the fall of the dice is completely the result of human skill or the lack of it. It may be that you can’t predict the way the dice will fall, but an unskilled player ought to know that he is unlikely to get the outcome he seeks. It is a game of probability, of inevitability…’

  ‘He knows that he doesn’t know…’ Panchali muttered to herself.

  ‘Exactly!’ Shakuni confirmed.

  The loud exclamation made Panchali come out of her brief abstraction. She asked, ‘And if the fall of the dice is not the consequence?’

  ‘Ah! If that is not the consequence, what can it be? Can it be the cause?’ Shakuni said in a dramatic whisper. He chuckled. ‘And that is why I always win, Mahamatra.’

  ‘I don’t understand…’ Panchali said.

  ‘Now, now! Don’t force him to reveal his secrets and tricks,’ Dharma said.

  Shakuni waved his hand in disagreement. ‘A skill may seem like a trick, or even a sleight of hand, to one who doesn’t know how it’s done. But I have nothing to hide. The rumour goes that these are magic dice and they follow my command, but there is no magic. Very simply, these dice were cast using the lightest of iron alloys, one that allows for skill on a throw to determine the outcome. Nothing surpassing this metal has been crafted since…’

  Panchali shook her head, again confessing that she did not comprehend.

  Asvattama spoke now, an occasion unusual enough to surprise Dharma and Syoddhan both. ‘These dice? They are Wright-work, like the imperial sceptre. Made from the bones of an Angirasa scholar. No need to explain what that is probably a metaphor for,’ he sardonically added.

  ‘Unless the scholar was an exceptionally hardy…or bony…man,’ Panchali quipped.

  Asvattama, Syoddhan and Shakuni roared with laughter, while Dharma looked aghast. He forced a polite look onto his face, but his voice was laced with derision. ‘Amazing how we still allow these unsanctified artifacts to be treated with such reverence… Once, the Wrights polluted our entire realm with their supposedly magical silver-white metal. Now, it’s the heathen Nagas and their black ironwork, their life-sucking arrowheads and other such nonsense,’ he declared with gravity.

  ‘Come now,’ Asvattama said. ‘It would be a pity to forget history. It was the restrictions we imposed on the Nagas’ ironwork, the subjugation we had kept them under these past decades, which has made their weaponry both rare and valuable. If the Nagas begin to trade freely throughout your dominion they would no longer need to push their craft as something elusive, steeped in dark magic and all that. They can sell their products simply and openly for their own gain. But they are now under a different form of subjugation – one that uses economic forces instead of political or social sanctions – and that might again lead to what you call pollution, and science being lost. It’s imperative now, as you well know, Emperor, that the Nagas be encouraged to trade, to share their craft. At the very least,’ he added, ‘it would save us the trouble of another bloody scourge in the years to come.’

  ‘And over time,’ Panchali added, ‘popular demand determines how the craft moves forward – why make arrows and other weapons, if there are no wars? Instead, we can turn our attention to devices that make life more productive for the common people. Instruments that may help us grow more crops, or perform effective medical procedures… Imagine!’

  ‘There are no maybes,’ Syoddhan said. ‘We could certainly do much. The library at Hastina is a treasure trove of knowledge that becomes mere arcanum with disuse. To put knowledge together with method would create a whole universe of possibilities. You’re right: Imagine. We can do so much, if only we have the courage to…’ He stopped, aware that he was leaning forward, eager, as was Panchali. He was also conscious of a thought that had never occurred to him in all these years, but had just taken hold. What if…? What if it were he who had married Panchali, won her hand? Would he now be Emperor? He would have been a good one, taken Aryavarta forward in the obvious direction. Yet, it was not he, but Dharma, a feeble, prejudiced gardhabha who lorded over them all.

  With silent self-recrimination for what he considered purposeless, blind ambition, Syoddhan turned his attention back to a hopeful-looking Panchali, forcing himself to note and then to ignore the becoming spark in her eyes.

  Dharma, however, was growing more discomfited by the moment, more so because he felt compelled to condone this mild but open heresy. He directed his words at Panchali and allowed a rough note to enter his voice, one that he could not assume with any of the others in the audience. ‘You presume, my dear, that these tales of heathen magic are nothing more than fantastical creations aimed at creating sensation. What you forget is that there is a greater duty, a higher morality that binds us Aryas; a duty to wipe out all that espouses an unsanctified way of life. The correct, accepted way is one that reflects and recreates Divine Order on earth.’

  ‘Divine Order doesn’t fill a man’s stomach when the rains fail, or pestilence sweeps through the realm, killing king and commoner alike, Dharma,’ Syoddhan pointed out.

  ‘My dear Syoddhan, if Divine Order were truly recreated on earth, why would it not rain? Or why would the lands be cursed with pestilence? That is precisely the point. It is not for us to defy destiny, but merely our duty to protect the way of life that submits to it. Anything that subverts the Divine Order – be it called magic, heresy, or science – is to be fought and destroyed. There is no room to question our ultimate allegiance to the gods themselves!’

  Sitting tall, Dharma quoted,

  ‘With civilization comes law,

  A remedy for flaw

  And both law and social norm

  Must weather every storm.

  ‘When the innocent quail

  Know the law has failed.

  When rulers forgo what is right,

  Know that evil shall delight.

  ‘There. Did I get that right, Panchali? You are so well versed in these tomes. If only I too had the time to read and study as I wished… But I cannot, and it is one of the many ways in which I must pay for my destiny. But I cannot defy it.’

  Panchali made to argue, defiance a lifelong instinct. Yet, wisdom prevailed and she held her tongue. Dharma wanted – no, needed – to establish his moral and temporal authority, given especially their current company. She was merely an instrument and this was yet another part she had to play. She nodded, admitting the Emperor’s point without really apologizing for her own and said, ‘Well, it’s late, and I’m sure you have many things to attend to. Chivalrous warri
ors that you are, I know you won’t admit you’re bored of my chatter, so I’ll excuse myself while you’re all still awake…’

  Panchali left the room, providing the others with an opportunity to close that part of the conversation. Her graceful exit drew a look of appreciation from Syoddhan, but he said nothing.

  ‘I should go too,’ Asvattama said. Unlike Panchali, he saw no reason to accommodate Dharma and felt himself to be in rare danger of losing his temper.

  ‘Stay…’ Syoddhan urged, only partly out of courtesy. Asvattama’s presence was not required to keep Dharma’s attention diverted from the outside world, though it did make it a less onerous chore.

  Asvattama shook his head. ‘I’m needed back at Ahichhattra… I’ll return in a few days. Why don’t we all hunt together then?’

  The men exchanged farewells and, with a polite bow, Asvattama left.

  An uncomfortable silence followed his departure as the three who remained found themselves at a loss for conversation. ‘Well, cousin,’ Syoddhan eventually said, ‘what shall we do now? I for one wouldn’t mind a game of dice, given all this talk of it.’

  Dharma’s voice was unusually cold. ‘Yes. We shall play dice. They say that a man who turns away from dice is a man who turns away from battle. Let’s test our mettle, shall we? Let’s see if your wagers can match your uncle’s words.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Do you dare play to conquer, Syoddhan? Dice truly is not very different from war. It may well prove why one man is an emperor while another remains just a prince. Destiny.’

  ‘Surely you jest?’

  ‘Jest? But of course! Just as you were jesting when you spoke of courage. It is not courage to defy destiny. It is folly.’

  ‘Folly is sitting down to a game against Shakuni. He is an exceptionally skilled player…’

  ‘Well, then you should have no problem staking even your kingdom on the game. For my part, the wealth of the Emperor is boundless, and more bountiful than the wealth of virtue that is mine. I am Dharma, and by my word and deed I remain virtuous, free from sin. The gods must reward me, as they always have, irrespective of whether you call on probability or magic… And that, Syoddhan, is the truth of who I am. It is not men who have made me Emperor, but the gods themselves. ‘It’s time all of you understood that. As for talk of courage and folly… Well, it was you who proposed that we play. I have agreed. It is now up to you.’

  Syoddhan stared at Dharma, unsure whether he ought to take up the challenge or simply walk away, disgusted as he was. What gave Dharma the right to behave the way he did? Was this what Govinda Shauri had done; was? Was Dharma’s soul now so corrupt that he had forgotten his basic duty as Emperor? Syoddhan made to speak out, but stopped himself. If Dharma took offence, if he left Hastina now, it would put all their plans at risk. He had, over the past few days, made sure that Dharma had received nothing but the most harmless of missives. The one messenger who had brought tidings of troop movements in the west – a fact that required nothing but observation in the normal course of events – had met with an unfortunate accident. But all this was possible only because Dharma was in Syoddhan’s palace, under his influence. If he were to leave… Syoddhan could not afford to let that happen. Gritting his teeth, he readied himself to play his part. ‘As you wish, cousin.’

  He turned to Shakuni. ‘Let the preparations be made, Uncle. Gather all the emissaries as well as the vassals, in attendance. The entire assembly shall witness this conquest, such as it may be, of Hastina. The game commences tomorrow evening.’

  ‘But…all right.’ Shakuni left the room.

  Dharma regarded Syoddhan with an amused, pretentious air. ‘Well, I think I’ll call it a night. I believe there are lovely ladies, exceptionally skilled at music, and other entertainment, waiting for me. Indeed, your hospitality is impressive, cousin!’

  Syoddhan nodded his thanks, but said nothing. His thoughts lay elsewhere. Despite the fact that he ruled an empire, it was clear that Dharma’s heart still desired Hastina. Would he truly ask Syoddhan to play the kingdom as stake?

  It’s just a game, he reassured himself. A game of dice. What can either of us lose beyond a couple of horses and elephants and a few heaps of gold? Yet, Syoddhan could not escape the sense of foreboding that shrouded his thoughts.

  Someday they will speak of us, his mind raged, of Syoddhan and Dharma. But whatever happens next, they will remember that I invited Dharma to Hastina, and I sat him down to a game of dice… But that mattered not. There were greater issues at stake than what would be said of Syoddhan Kauravya in times to come.

  With stern resolution, Syoddhan turned his mind to the west. Saubha and his armies would have reached the gates of Dwaraka by now. A day or two more was all they would need. By then, the city would surely lie in ruins. In the depths of Syoddhan’s imagination, Shisupala’s handsome face delighted at the sight of foul vultures and carrion crows picking and tearing away at the remains of Govinda Shauri.

  14

  SCATTERED RUINS WERE ALL THAT REMAINED OF WHAT HAD ONCE been Kampilya. Now the city had shifted westwards, closer to the river, and grown into a sprawling trading centre, while its original location was but a small cluster of rubble and stone, a dot in the vast moonlit fields between the city’s walls and the Great Road. Though used on occasion by travellers to rest or by lovers seeking privacy, for the most part the ruins remained deserted. The people of Southern Panchala tended to avoid the crumbling structures altogether – the result of a healthy wariness of snakes and other avoidable occupants of the area, coupled with a less wholesome but more colourful belief that ghosts and spirits too resided there.

  Shikandin cared little for either kind of inhabitants as he made his way into the dark heart of the broken structures, leading his horse beside him. The bright moonlight made a torch unnecessary. Besides, a torch would attract attention, which neither he nor the person he was to meet wanted. The distinct smell of horse and bridle-leather told him his visitor had already arrived and he turned as he heard slow, measured footsteps behind him. Silhouetted against the night sky that shone through the nearly roofless ruins was a tall figure, wrapped in a black, shroud-like cloak. The man reeked of danger, an animalistic power that Shikandin found comfortingly familiar. The vistor, he knew, was in many ways not very different from him.

  ‘Do you still have nightmares?’ the man asked without prelude, his eyes taking in the subtle but unmistakeable glint of the silver-white beads Shikandin wore on his neck.

  ‘No. Not since…not since Panchali and Dhrstyadymn…’ Shikandin let the words hang between them, before adding, a hint of laughter in his voice, ‘not since you stole half my kingdom from me…Chaura!’

  Asvattama laughed softly at the accusation, well aware that it was true but delighted that Shikandin did not mean it with malice. He noted with satisfaction that the last time the two men had shared a moment of mirth had been before Panchala was split in two. Laughter had been all the more precious then, for terror and bloodshed had surrounded them in the last phase of the Great Scourge, when all of Aryavarta had turned against the Firewrights. The terrible things they had seen had left scars in many ways. He was glad to know that Shikandin had found some relief from his haunted past. Asvattama said, ‘You love them very much, don’t you?’

  ‘As I would my son and daughter.’

  ‘I think the affection is mutual. Panchali can’t have an extended conversation without bringing you and Dhrstyadymn into it. I particularly enjoy watching Vasusena grimace at every mention of Kampilya.’

  ‘That’s a sight worth seeing, I’m sure. I take it the…erm… imperial visit is going well?’

  ‘Tediously well and consummately boring, as most of these family gatherings tend to be. Speaking of family…’

  Shikandin pre-empted the question. ‘Yudhamanyu is well. He has grown up to be a fine young man. Makes me proud to be a father.’

  Asvattama knew better than to say or ask more. He reached out to give Shika
ndin’s shoulder a squeeze, earning him a warm smile from the man.

  ‘And you?’ Shikandin went on, as he lightly looped his horse’s reins over a plant that grew from a fallen pillar, ‘I don’t suppose you’ll ever marry?’

  ‘It’s too late. I’m a few years older than you are, as you well know. Besides, I seem to have built up an undeserved reputation for being celibate, among other things. It has its uses, so I won’t complain too much. I do what I want to anyway.’

  ‘Do you? Do any of us?’

  ‘We can pretend to…’ Asvattama said, with a light shrug. The statement dispelled the illusion of friendly, aimless conversation for he said in a grim tone, ‘I have a very bad feeling about all of this.’

  ‘Devala?’

  ‘Yes. Why isn’t the son-of-a-whore dead yet? I don’t see what the Vyasa gains by keeping him alive.’

  ‘Is it the Vyasa who’s keeping him alive, Asvattama?’

  ‘Point well made. I fear that the Vyasas, old and new, no longer retain the power and influence they once had over Aryavarta. A development to a good end, no doubt, but…’

  Shikandin nodded. ‘So, someone else’s influence is instrumental in keeping Devala alive… What could this person want?’

  ‘What did anyone ever want from the Firewrights? Power.’

  ‘Weapons?’

  ‘But of course!’ Drawing in a deep breath, Asvattama confessed, ‘Devala asked me about the Naga-astra – the all-powerful toxin Agniveshya supposedly created after the fall of the Firewrights, during his years of hiding.’

  ‘Was he trying to tempt you, do you think?’

  ‘He knows better. He was trying to find it.’

  ‘Find it? But that would imply…’

  ‘Precisely.’ Asvattama knew he did not have to explain as Shikandin’s brow furrowed into an unusually deep frown. He continued, ‘If it weren’t for this bastard, whatever weapons remained would soon become relatively obsolete. In any case, in a few years from now it will all be redundant. Aryavarta will be one united economic entity, and any weaponry that has been found or invented will only make us stronger against foreign invaders. Internally, we’d be bound by forces far stronger than Firewright weapons or Firstborn morals. I swear, Shikandin, we should have killed Devala the day we had our hands on him. We should never have let him be taken alive! But now, he or whoever it is that’s behind him wants whatever weapons may still be out there… An ambition that is best fulfilled now, while the Firstborn are weak.’