The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2

by Krishna Udayasankar

  Govinda stopped mid-sentence. Acutely aware of the fact that he had revealed more than he wanted to, he went on, his voice even, ‘But, like all mistakes, it was fine if one learnt from it.’

  ‘Maybe, Govinda,’ Balabadra gently said, ‘it was a lesson learnt in excess. You know for a fact that many of our own kinsmen have doubted your intentions… They haven’t always believed that you acted objectively. To be honest, you’ve even tried my patience and trust on occasion!’

  ‘Why? I don’t understand what they fear so much…’

  ‘Tyranny.’

  ‘Tyranny? But how does a rule of and by the people become tyranny? I dream, I hope, that one day all of Aryavarta will be as Dwaraka, a united realm where the people are their own sovereign. How is that tyranny?’

  With the soft, practised patience of a man who had explained things before and knew he would have to do so yet again, Balabadra said, ‘To those who would lose their power, Govinda, it may well be one and the same. These kings cannot comprehend might divided among many. They cannot comprehend a society that does not follow the Divine Order, a hierarchy of power. So they assume that if you wish to supplant Divine Order, it must be for your gain. They would not dare leave Dwaraka standing.’ A trace of irritation crept into his voice. ‘I know this is something that you stubbornly refuse to get into your head, that you’d rather stick to your idealized notions of the inherent goodness of human beings and all that, but surely the Secret Keeper would have anticipated this?’

  Govinda smiled, the first mention of the unnamed, unknown leader between them in years becoming a moment to relish and regret. Balabadra had never asked him, even once, who it was that Govinda had laid their hopes on, who it was for whom Dwaraka would now fall. The realization of the overwhelming trust so many had placed in him hit him hard. They had believed in him, and he had done nothing but let them down. But the fault was his, and Govinda could not let the Secret Keeper be held to blame instead. He said, ‘He did. He advised me to leave Aryavarta at once to prevent Dwaraka being attacked.’

  ‘Why didn’t you? Where in the name of the Brahmi bull’s backside have you been all these days?’

  ‘I was waiting for them to find me.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Do you really not know, Agraja? In all these years, in all the plans I have made, there is one fatal flaw, a loose thread that can cause the entire weave to unravel. You saw how the fear of the missing Ghora Angirasa took hold of everyone, including the former emperor Jarasandha and Vyasa Dwaipayana. It was only his death, his indisputable and violent death, that set off the chain of events that led to the formation of Dharma’s empire. In the same vein, if I simply disappeared, if I’d left Aryavarta, it would have been of no use. I have to fall. Otherwise the notion that the Firewrights remain would drive the kings of Aryavarta to mutual distrust and suspicion, and the empire would splinter in a matter of months. I couldn’t let that happen.’

  ‘Can’t you?’ Balabadra’s tone held unrestrained ire. ‘I don’t suppose you considered the fact that to some of us you are far more important than these ideals. Your own life may not matter to you, Govinda, but surely the heartache you cause us does?’

  Govinda sighed, and met his brother’s accusatory gaze. ‘You have to understand, I chose this option over others because I thought it to be the best one.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Govinda said, ‘Dharma Yudhisthir was not my first or only choice for Emperor. A stronger man might have allowed me to stay in the shadows and fade quietly into obsolescence. I considered many choices, from then-emperor Jarasandha to Vasusena of Anga. But it had to be a Kaurava.’

  ‘Because of the Firstborn? Because of the Vyasa?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In that case, you should have backed Syoddhan,’ Balabadra grumbled, making no effort to hide his affection for Dhritarastra’s eldest son.

  ‘I almost did. I really like him. But it was neither practical nor prudent. Short of turning him against his own father, there was no way of making him king of his own land, leave alone Emperor. Once that happened, his reign would have been fraught with rebellion and civil war with his own brothers. Besides, I didn’t dare let Panchali near that lot – Dussasan and the others. Well, so much for my objectivity… And as soon as I realized Dwaraka was under attack…’

  Balabadra began to understand the enormity of what his brother had done. Gently, he said, ‘It’s not too late, Govinda. It’s never too late.’

  ‘Too late for what?’

  ‘To be human. To admit what you feel. To let yourself care and love and…’

  ‘But I don’t.’

  Balabadra knew his brother was not a man to shown extreme emotion or lose his equanimity, but to remain so unaffected under these circumstances seemed to him inhuman. He stepped up and grabbed Govinda by his shoulders. ‘What’s wrong with you? You’ve really started believing in your own prattle about selflessness and letting go, haven’t you? By Govardhan, don’t you see what sort of a man you’ve become? Not a man even, a monster, a thing that believes in its omnipotence. How can you be this way?’

  ‘Omnipotence? Time is the only omnipotent force, Agraja. What you see as my selfishness is nothing but an acceptance of my place in the larger scheme of things. What you deem arrogance is just awareness, self-awareness. Like many, you too think I want power. I want nothing and, yes, that is power. I can’t help it, and I don’t care to. Being understood is a luxury I don’t need any more.’

  ‘Does nothing move you?’

  Govinda hesitated. Though he willed it not to, his mind went back to his last conversation with Panchali.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Nothing can move me, at least not while there remains work to be done. It is for posterity to decide whether I have been right or wrong.’ He cleared his throat and said, ‘Now, how many ships do we have left?’

  ‘The whole fleet, except one,’ Balabadra said shortly. He remained terse. ‘We used her as a decoy…’

  ‘That’s more than I had planned for. Excellent! Here’s what I need you to do, right away. If we move our ships at night, it’ll confuse Saubha and his sailors. Take ten of the vessels and sail them around the northern cove. They won’t stop you. The wind will be against them now, and they won’t risk getting the men to row without having some idea of what we’ve planned.’

  All Balabadra could manage was a disbelieving stare. Slowly, he found his voice. ‘No! No, no, no! Govinda, you’d better not be thinking what I suspect you’re thinking… In the name of Yama’s black bull, no! It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘To whom, Agraja? There’s nothing left to grieve for, nothing left to lose. Don’t you see? My purpose here is served, and I’m ready for whatever may lie ahead, even the end. As for Dwaraka, all I know is that I shall not let this city fall!’

  ‘And Aryavarta?’

  Govinda took a deep breath. ‘The Secret Keeper. The Secret Keeper will take care of everything. The task that remains, the last part of Ghora Angirasa’s plan, is one that the Secret Keeper alone can fulfil. I’m finally free, for there is no more use here for me.’

  Balabadra’s eyes glazed over with numb acceptance – a sense of acquiescence that he ought to have been used to by now but was not. With a silent prayer, he let go of all thoughts of the future. There was no other choice. Whatever happened, he doubted that either of them would ever leave Dwaraka again, alive.

  18

  MORNING RAYS GLINTED ACROSS EVERY LINE AND FACE OF Shakuni’s dice, setting the silver-white metal afire. At that moment, Syoddhan could almost believe that they had come alive, demons that served their master’s command to fall as he wished, no matter who cast them. Yet, it was not Shakuni, a man filled with love and loyalty for his nephew, who made the air feel malevolent. Syoddhan knew that his uncle had harboured no ill will when he first sat down to play. It was the stakes that had changed it all.

  ‘Syoddhan?’

  He started as he
became aware of Shakuni’s voice. Slowly, he looked around him, aware that every friend and ally of the Kuru kingdom present in the assembly hall was waiting for his response. His own brothers seemed jubilant, as did Vasusena, for much had been won. Sanjaya’s face showed no discernible emotion at all.

  Across from Syoddhan, Dharma sat with his eyes raised to the ceiling of the great hall. The gods still looked down on the assembly as they always had, but none were inclined to descend to the Emperor’s aid. Quelling the urge to reach out and shake his fool of a cousin out of his crazed stupor, his self-righteous sense of potency, Syoddhan sought out Dharma’s brothers instead. Partha pointedly ignored him and surveyed his surroundings with an air of affected superiority. Bhim was brooding. The twins were grim. All of them stood, arms crossed in a posture of servitude, upper bodies bare, as a sign of respect.

  Dharma played his brothers as stakes…Syoddhan repeated the words in his head hoping that the sheer absurdity of what they conveyed would make them false. How had it come to this?

  At first, both he and Dharma had wagered simple baubles – jewellery they wore, or gold they had on their person, a newly acquired stallion, then two. But as the night progressed, Dharma had grown bolder. Bolder? No, it wasn’t boldness, but a need, a yearning of sorts. A hunger Syoddhan had not seen in years. Not since he and Dharma had been young men. The scene remained vivid in Syoddhan’s memory, as did the conversation that went with it.

  ‘Agraja, tell them to stop!’

  ‘Relax, Syoddhan. I have ten gold coins that say Bhim is going to land a blow to Dussasan’s face in… Oh, there. He does it as we speak.’

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Dharma? I brought you here to stop them fighting, not gamble on them!’

  ‘Don’t be so scared, Crown Prince! Gambling is a warrior’s art, just as fighting is. Our very lives are games of risk and reward, and… He’s down, he’s down! Well done, Bhim! Who’s next? What say, Yuyutsu? Care to wrestle Nakul here? Wait, let’s make it more exciting… Sadev, blindfold Nakul, will you… I bet twenty coins that he will still win! Well, Syoddhan, what have you to play with? I’d hate to make a wager you cannot meet.’

  ‘You cannot do this, Dharma.’

  ‘What do you mean I cannot, Syoddhan?’

  ‘You cannot be so callous with another’s life, not even your own brother’s. You don’t own them.’

  ‘I own nothing, Syoddhan. I am just an ordinary man. It is because of the love my brothers hold me that they will follow my every command, no matter what I ask of them. They don’t have to do a thing they don’t want to.’

  ‘You know they won’t disobey you. That is not how things are. We are brought up to believe that it must be thus, that hierarchy is the sacred manifestation of Divine Order. But that is no justification for you to do, as you like. One of our brothers could die as a result of your stupid wagers.’

  ‘Divine Order? No, Syoddhan. My brothers obey me out of their love and free will, as do the people… Oh yes, the people of Kuru. I command nothing, I own nothing. Yet, my dear Crown Prince, it is me they want as king, and not you…’

  That day, Syoddhan had seen a spark in Dharma’s eyes, a spark not of something good but of an insanity that was beyond good and bad. At first he had thought it the madness of a common gambler, the intoxication that he knew could take the best of men at times. But as the years passed Syoddhan understood that the intoxication was of a unique nature. Some men became drunk with power. Dharma was the first man Syoddhan had seen who could become inebriated with morality, the satisfaction of being right and good. He believed that the force of destiny guiding his life was not a cause but the consequence of his piety. And a gambler he remained in chiefly one thing: Dharma believed that he would, sooner or later, win. It was destiny.

  And so, after he lost his lands, his jewels, all his possessions, he had played his nations, his empire and his people as stakes. And then, one by one, his brothers.

  But he does not own them! Syoddhan’s fury, delayed till the moment by his sheer astonishment, finally overcame him. He looked at Bhim, Partha, Nakul and Sadev, and it made him sick to see how they had accepted their fate without protest. Just as Vidur, Bhisma, Dron and Kripa had accepted the outcome of the gamble without protest. Their regret was apparent, but none of them had raised the smallest objection.

  Once again, Shakuni’s voice intruded on his reflections. ‘Syoddhan?’

  Syoddhan turned to his uncle. Trying his best not to show how shaken he was, he said, for no reason other than to speak, ‘What was the last stake, Uncle? What did we win?’

  Shakuni looked puzzled, but answered, ‘Dharma Yudhisthir. He staked himself.’

  Syoddhan stared at Dharma. His cousin, no longer the Emperor of Aryavarta, sat lifeless. His eyes were blank; he had become incapable of thought or emotion, regret or despair. He is a corpse now, Syoddhan thought. Or worse, a hollow, wooden image of a man who had never known life. And this is the man Govinda Shauri put on the imperial throne? Yabha!

  Rage coursed anew through Syoddhan and he made to rise from his seat and put an end to this mindless game, to walk away from it now as mad wagers made in excess, a brotherly squabble of little consequence within and beyond the household. He froze halfway.

  Slowly, like an unreal spectre come to life, Dharma’s fingers moved. His eyes did not see, nor did the rest of him shift. Filled with energy of its own, his hand edged towards the dice, reaching out to lightly touch the cold white metal. His eyes lit up, as though he had drawn life from the accursed dice. He pulled his hand back, sat straight and fixed his opponents with a confident look. ‘I stake Panchali.’ As the dice rolled to a stop, Dharma hung his head.

  It took a while before Syoddhan finally stirred. He felt devoid of sensation or emotion. Slowly, the beat of his own heart filled his ears, the throbbing a meaningless rhythm, as were his words and his actions. He turned, without really knowing that he did so, to one of the many attendants around them. He said, ‘Go, bring Panchali here. Dharma Yudhisthir, the man who was supposed to rule us all, has just condemned his wife to slavery. I shudder to think what would have become of this realm if he had remained Emperor. Go now. Bring her here and let her see for herself what her husband has done.’

  19

  THE SUN WAS SEARING DESPITE THE EARLY HOUR, ITS STRENGTH leaving little hope of cloud or rain. A hot wind blew in from the north, dry and stinging. One by one, five huge galleys cruised out of the safety of Dwaraka’s harbour. Each carried a crew of three hundred oarsmen and another hundred fighting men, as well as a large supply of armaments. The sixth and last ship alone was much lighter and less heavily manned than the rest. Govinda stood on its deck, his light metal and hard leather chest armour gleaming under the bright sun, his curly hair dripping with perspiration, as his captain, Daruka, brought the ship into position. The six vessels were now arranged in the shape of an arrowhead, with this, the flagship, as the tip of the formation.

  All of Dwaraka had gathered along the city walls and on its towers to watch what would be the final battle for their city. If they lost, there would be no hope left. Salwa’s soldiers, now thronging the beaches, reminded them of that with their taunts and rude jeers.

  ‘We’re in position, Commander,’ Daruka informed Govinda. The warrior nodded in response.

  And then they were off. Hundreds of oars creaked in unison and cut the choppy waters with a loud splash. The arrowhead of ships slowly began to move north-west, against the headwind and towards the open sea.

  King Saubha had astutely positioned his fleet as close as possible to the placid waters of the gulf off Dwaraka. They waited just ahead of the long-shore currents that ran from north to south, parallel to the coast, but were still close enough to use the tide to move his ships in and out of formation. The fleet loomed like a floating wall, the bare masts making the vessels look ominous, like the skeletons of dead ships. The northern wind was too strong for the Salwa navy to use their sails this close to shore; the wind would drive even th
e largest galley onto the treacherous shoals. Vayu the wind-god, it seemed, would favour neither side.

  ‘They’re expecting us,’ Govinda dryly commented as the enemy ships began raising anchor.

  Daruka eyed the formidable array from his post at the ship’s wheel. ‘Commander,’ he pointed out, ‘King Saubha must already know that ten of our vessels left the harbour last night…’

  ‘He surely does…’ Govinda distractedly said as he took a look over the side, judging the depth by the colour of the water. He placed a light hand on the wheel, adjusting their course. ‘Hold this line,’ he instructed. Behind them, the other vessels of their force too veered, using the flagship’s wake as a guide.

  Govinda went forward to the bow of the ship and surveyed the scene before him. Saubha’s forces, comprising over thirty vessels of navy and pirate origin, were arranged in the arc-shaped attack formation preferred by large navies. All they had to do was to encircle the smaller Yadu fleet and methodically sink each vessel. At sea, nothing determined the outcome of a battle as much as the size and strength of the navy. Occasionally, smaller navies would use decoys or set traps in the hope of averting an inevitable rout. One such trick was to lure the enemy fleet to form a tight circle around a few ships sent out as bait and have another fleet of ships attack from the outside. Govinda hoped that this was exactly what Saubha was expecting them to do.

  It was.

  Torches went on Saubha’s flagship, in a signal to the others of their group. The vessels began manoeuvring and the arc split into two, right down the middle. Anticipating that the ten ships Govinda had moved during the night would inevitably spring an attack, Saubha was dividing up his huge force. A group of ships, most of them of Danava make, heavy and massive, veered hard and to the left in a quarter-turn. They were now moving due east, directly towards the mouth of the gulf.

  King Saubha’s command ship, however, was all set to engage Govinda’s fleet. The mighty Salwa war-craft, which had earlier been the centre of the arc, now veered right and forward. More vessels came up alongside to form a straight line. All of them pulled in their oars.