The Queens of Hastinapur

by Sharath Komarraju

  ‘Amend it? Is it not better if we followed Lady Ganga’s words? Should we not leave Earth to the Goddess and watch how she mends it?’

  ‘Ah, perhaps before we had descended, it would have been a worthy ploy. But now, my lady, after all that we have done, if we just sit by and watch, Mathura and Magadha shall gather armies large enough to break down the Cave of Ice.’

  The river’s call died down to a murmur. Ahead of them, Jahnavi saw the path slope down to a muddy bank, where three boats stood anchored to the water. All of the travellers who had accompanied them went to the first two. The third, a narrow barge black as coal, bobbed and creaked against the sand a few metres away. The hunched oarsman sprang to his feet and raised his right arm when he saw them. His body was as dark as the wood frame of the boat, and his white dhoti sparkled in the morning light.

  Jahnavi’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes watered at the sight of the boat. It would not be long now, she thought. Their steps gathered speed, and before she knew it, Nishanta and Kubera were laughing like small children and kicking back the sand. The people on the other boats watched them. All of them frowned; they cupped their mouths with their hands and whispered to their neighbours.

  When she reached the boat, out of breath, Jahnavi closed her eyes and rested her hand on the hull, palm facing flat down on the iron sheet. Life pulsed into her body. The itch at the base of her neck subsided somewhat, and a great wave of fatigue washed over her.

  Nishanta and Kubera pulled her aboard, then jumped off to push the boat into the water. Jahnavi lay down on her back, arms outstretched, drinking in the brilliant blue sky with her eyes. The two men landed back in the boat, their feet hitting the wood with loud thuds, and they paced about in excitement.

  ‘We are going home, Nishanta!’ said Kubera. ‘Look how beautiful the morning is. Smell the flowers.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Nishanta replied. ‘I can smell the air of the mountain already. Is that the Cave of Ice I see in the distance?’

  It was not. Jahnavi knew. They would not see the cave before several hours had passed. But how did it matter? For the first time in a long while, she heard laughter in their voices, she heard joy and exhilaration, relief. They were out of reach of Mathura’s clutches. The slopes of Meru stretched out in front of them, and if they wanted, they could choose never to leave it again.

  The sunlight warmed the drops of water on her skin, and she felt a soft pinch at the corner of each eye. She realized then that she had not slept for the last three nights, in that dingy hole of a prison. Now the air was fragrant, the water calm, the light soothing.

  She stretched out her toes, heard them crack. Her body slumped. Her eyes closed. A smile appeared on her lips.

  CHAPTER TEN

  GANGA SPEAKS

  I

  remember the first thing Jahnavi said on dismounting from the barge that summer morning at the base of the White Rock. She was dressed not in the manner of a priestess of the Goddess, and her upper lip bore smudges of black that suggested to me that their journey hither had not been an altogether pleasant one. Kubera and Nishanta wore red and blue marks of wounds on their faces, and as they approached me, they dropped to their knees and bent their heads – more out of shame, I thought, than respect.

  Jahnavi joined her palms and bowed too, in the elaborate way of a contrite child. Then she got up and said, ‘We have failed miserably, Lady Ganga.’

  I did not feel surprise at the words; when had a plot of interfering with Earth’s affairs succeeded wholly? It had brought me all the pain I had come to bear upon my heart. It had brought Devavrata the burden he carried on his shoulders to his dying day. Amba, Pritha, Gandhari – would they not all have lived their lives as happy princesses but for the schemes of the Meru people?

  Sometimes, the Goddess heaps one with duty that one does not seek. For better or for worse, the Water Mysteries of Meru – and therefore the overall welfare of the mountain – is the sole responsibility of the Lady of the River. This has pitted me against my one son, and ever since he has forsaken Meru, we have met just as enemies.

  The Wise Ones do not listen. They do not see that our most formidable foe lies within us. They will not see this failure as one either; and they shall command me – as they have done in the past – to protect the mountain, and they shall invoke the name of the Goddess in case I refuse. ‘You have been chosen by the Goddess to tend to the mountain, Lady Ganga,’ they will say. ‘Forsaking your duty to the Goddess is the greatest sin a priestess can commit.’

  Saddest of all, perhaps, is that they are right.

  That night, Jahnavi and I sat in my hut, by the light of the oil lamp, and she told me all that had occurred in Mathura. She looked more like a maiden after she had had her wash, wearing one of my new cloaks. Her eyes still shifted, though, and she wrapped the cloak tighter around herself when she narrated how they had all been imprisoned.

  Very few things anger me now, for I have seen all that man can do to his brother, but back then I was a woman of forty, and some of the fire of my youth had not yet deserted my veins. When I heard Jahnavi’s quivering voice and the naked fear in her voice as she spoke of the prison in Mathura, my fingers tightened around my staff and my teeth bit into my lower lip. She was not yet the Lady of the River, and only the Goddess knew if she ever would be, but she was a maiden from the mountain. How dare an Earthman treat a lady from Meru in such an uncouth manner!

  Yes, Mathura and Magadha were now one. That posed a grave threat to the rest of North Country, and to the mountain too. But Kamsa had to be punished for what he had done to my ward. Perhaps it was that moment of anger that cemented the bond between Jahnavi and I; perhaps from that moment on, I began to think of her as my successor, as my daughter.

  Now, as I look back to that day, it all seems to dissolve into irrelevance. Nothing matters any more, with North Country ravaged by blood and sword. But in those two days following Jahnavi’s return, the mountain took one giant leap into the future, and the events that were set in motion by my decree would become the prime forces that would shape the future history of the land, and the great war that we all now wish had never happened.

  All wars – indeed, all petty quarrels – are of that nature. Once the anger has ebbed and peace returns to the mind, one looks back at the time of fighting and asks how so many men could be persuaded to think that slitting throats of other men was heroic and worthy of praise. How could we all – the Wise Ones, I and Jahnavi, in her time as the Lady of the River – have been so unintelligent, I ask myself now. How could we not have seen that our actions would lead inevitably to a battlefield?

  But that is the difference, is it not, between the Goddess and us. We see only the past, and shape the future in its shadow. The Goddess sees all there is to see, all that has happened, and all that shall come to pass. She watches, they say, with a knowing smile on her face, that men are doomed to repeat all their foibles, many thousand times over.

  That night on which Jahnavi told me of their time in Mathura, she fell ill. Her body raged with fire, and even drops of the Crystal Water could not moisten her parched throat. She lay on my lap croaking like an old hag, her lips acquiring the dull yellow colour of death. I thought we would lose her to the Goddess, but after a week of nursing, she became better.

  The Wise Ones must have been watching us, because on the very evening when Jahnavi’s voice gathered the strength of old, as I was readying the linen to be immersed in warm water so that I could swab her sallow cheeks with it, Vishnu and Vasishtha came to my hut.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘S

  ometimes,’ said Lady Ganga, squeezing another stream of water out of the wet cotton cloth before dabbing it on Jahnavi’s forehead, ‘the wisdom of the Wise Ones is rather questionable.’

  The three of them – Lady Ganga, Vishnu and Vasishtha – were seated around her bed. When the cloth touched her forehead, the warmth in the water stung Jahnavi’s bruises, and she grimaced. Mother Ganga’s mouth twis
ted further into a knot at this.

  ‘Bear the pain, child,’ she admonished her. ‘The wounds are light – nothing that will kill you or maim your beautiful face.’ She looked up at Vishnu. ‘The Wise Ones have done all they could to take the life of this girl, who they wish would be the next Lady of the River, they say.’

  ‘My lady,’ said Vishnu, bowing. ‘I cannot offer enough apologies for what occurred. We did not think that Kamsa would see through us so plainly—’

  ‘Men on Earth may not have the powers of the Mysteries to aid them, Vishnu, but they are no more foolish than you and I.’

  The thin, breathy voice of Vasishtha croaked over hers. ‘Let us not quarrel,’ he said, caressing his beard. ‘We must think ahead now, think about what is to be done.’

  ‘What is to be done?’ Lady Ganga smiled incredulously. ‘You still wish to do something about matters on Earth, High Sage?’

  ‘Well, doing nothing now would make Kamsa and Jarasandha the two most powerful men in North Country. Perhaps even more powerful than Bhishma himself.’

  ‘I do not think that is any of our concern.’

  Vishnu said, ‘My lady, I understand your anger. And perhaps you were right. Perhaps we went too far this time with our interference. But we were only trying to prevent a dire situation.’

  ‘And we ended up creating one where none existed.’

  ‘But we could not have known that,’ protested Vishnu. ‘We followed our wisest counsel. We did our very best.’

  ‘Your best, Vishnu, would have been never emerging from the court of Indra to darken my door. That way we would have lived our own lives, and the men on Earth would live theirs.’ She noticed that the cloth had run dry, so she bent forward to dip it again in the earthen water pot. She did this slowly, thoughtfully, and as she squeezed the cloth dry with both her hands, Jahnavi saw her face smoothen.

  The cloth spread on her forehead again. This time Jahnavi made sure not to grimace or frown.

  Lady Ganga let out a deep breath.

  ‘For better or for worse,’ she said at last, ‘what is done is done. I would that I could return in time and advise myself to be a bit more forceful with you that morning, Vishnu. But alas, I cannot. What do the Wise Ones make of it?’

  ‘My lady,’ said Vishnu, ‘we are at a loss. Magadha and Mathura forming an alliance is not catastrophic, but it could be, once they begin their quest for supremacy among the Middle Kingdoms.’

  ‘The Middle Kingdoms are gone, Vishnu!’ said Lady Ganga, and her sudden anger jolted Jahnavi. ‘Let us think about what we can do to salvage the Northern Kingdoms, Hastinapur in particular.’

  Vasishtha’s long shadow on the wall stayed sharp and unmoving. Only his lips moved as he spoke, as specks of sweat accumulated on his lined brow. ‘If we could persuade Hastinapur to enter another alliance, perhaps—’

  ‘Another alliance?’ Ganga turned on him with a withering look. ‘Hastinapur does not have a marriageable prince to enter into alliance, High Sage. Both Pandu and Dhritarashtra have now been married, and the alliances have already been formed.’

  ‘Perhaps if Bhishma could be persuaded—’

  ‘He has taken his vow. He will not budge.’

  Vishnu edged forward. ‘Princes can be married more than once, my lady. So if a suitable alliance among the Northern Kingdoms could be found, that could help us make Hastinapur strong enough to match Mathura and Magadha.’

  ‘Panchala is the only Great Kingdom that is strong enough for this,’ said Ganga, ‘but Drupad does not have a daughter. An heir to the throne is yet to be born in that city. Besides, I am not convinced we should employ the same method that has failed us so miserably.’

  ‘I do not understand, my lady.’

  Ganga set aside her cloth and fixed Vishnu with a cold eye. ‘What if we did this, Vishnu, and by some miracle we are able to strengthen Hastinapur. Who is to say that Hastinapur, Magadha and Mathura will not come together in a three-way alliance? Who will save us then? When their armies come marching up to the Cave of Ice and shatter it with their weapons, you will know that at least some of those weapons belong to Meru. They will have used strength that we have given them, Vishnu.’

  Vishnu hung his head.

  ‘But what other way is there, my lady?’ said Vasishtha.

  ‘There are always other, softer ways, High Sage,’ replied Ganga. She looked at the corner lamp. ‘The sister of Kamsa is imprisoned in Mathura. A spy belonging to Shurasena has become the head guard at this prison, and it is he who has aided Jahnavi’s escape. Indeed, one of the things Jahnavi promised is that she would give him the Mystery of the shroud to enable him to take the child of Devaki into Shurasena, and then onward to Kunti.’

  ‘I know all that, my lady.’

  ‘Then you must know, surely, that that is our best hope. That child of Devaki will grow up to rule Shurasena and Kunti, and may one day return to free his mother and father from his uncle.’

  ‘But he will not succeed, my lady,’ said Vishnu. ‘Shurasena and Kunti are but small kingdoms. They cannot match the might of Magadha and Mathura.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Ganga, still looking at the yellow flickering light. ‘Kamsa may kill the young one, as soon as he finds out about his existence. But I think … I think it is there we must focus our energies. Let Mathura and Magadha revel in their time in the sun. Let us take good care of that child of Devaki.’

  ‘No matter how well we care for him, Lady Ganga,’ said Vishnu, ‘he shall still be an Earthman. Unless we bring him up to the mountain and train him, as we did with Bhishma.’

  Ganga opened her mouth to speak, but something in the flicker of the corner lamp stilled her gaze. Her hands slowed down and began to caress the wet linen, almost with love. Then she dropped it into the vessel and brought her fingers to rub Jahnavi’s forehead. Their eyes locked. Ganga bent down to place a kiss on each of her cheeks, and then on the lids of her eyes.

  ‘Sleep,’ she whispered.

  Jahnavi obeyed. She felt her head being cradled by Ganga’s hands, and a rolled-up mat became her pillow. The other three got up from their seats, and on their way out they snuffed out the lamps.

  ‘Let us speak of it outside,’ Jahnavi heard Ganga say. ‘There is much to be done, and we must let her sleep.’

  Jahnavi awoke to the sound of Ganga chanting verses. She pushed herself to a sitting position on the stone ledge, and from the open door she saw Ganga stand at the edge of the cliff, facing away from her, toward the White Rock, her hands stretched out in front. It was just a few moments past sunrise, and the last of the twilight stars blinked in the sky.

  Jahnavi got to her feet and realized that strength had returned to her limbs sometime during the night. She did not know if the lady had treated her to a miracle herb, but it seemed that way. She had been exhausted the night before, and her muscles had ached and pulled mercilessly. But now – even if she had to take another sojourn down to Earth, she thought, she would not say no.

  Ganga turned to smile at her as she emerged from the hut. The cloak hung loosely over Jahnavi’s body, shielding her from the chilly draughts that came from the north. She lowered the hood, so that her hair could feel the tender morning air.

  ‘You have slept well,’ said Ganga, and Jahnavi nodded. ‘A journey to Earth is like that, my dear. It saps you of life, and it ages your bones.’

  ‘My lady, I must thank you for tending to me these few days.’

  ‘You may call me Mother.’ Jahnavi looked up in shock, but Ganga palmed her cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I have spoken to the High Sage last night. He said that if you are willing, I could adopt you as my daughter, and in time you shall, of course, succeed me as the Lady of the River.’

  ‘Willing?’ said Jahnavi, breaking into a laugh of delight. ‘I do not know if I am worthy of such a role, my lady, that is all.’

  ‘You have shown much courage among the Earthmen. Nishanta and Kubera tell me that it is thanks to your wherewithal that the
y got out of the prison in Mathura. And you were on your own, Jahnavi. It would have taken us at least a moon to realize something was wrong, and by then, I dare say Kamsa would have executed you.’

  ‘That thought did occur to me, Mother, yes.’

  ‘The brave thing you did was to not let it stifle your mind. The Wise One is in agreement, so is the High Sage. You have done well.’

  ‘But Mother, I have failed in what we set out to do.’ Words rushed into Jahnavi’s mind, and she stumbled over them. ‘I … we made things worse. I … thought we deceived Kamsa but he knew who we were … all along …’

  Ganga nodded, her brow smooth, her countenance calm. ‘It is true, you have failed. But your visit to the prison may have helped us in some ways, Jahnavi. You met Devaki, and in all of Mathura, there is not one other person who hates Kamsa more than Devaki. Her heart burns for vengeance against her brother.’

  ‘I promised her we shall rescue her child, when she has one.’

  ‘And we shall,’ said Ganga. ‘We shall also make certain that Devaki has not one child, but two children. Twins.’

  ‘Two children at once, Mother? Do we have a Mystery to make that happen?’

  Ganga smiled at her and reached out to pat her cheek. ‘Not quite a Mystery, my dear, but something like it.’

  That afternoon, as they were gathering fallen berries in the garden, Ganga said to Jahnavi, ‘Whom among the Wise Ones would you like to lie with?’

  ‘Mother?’

  ‘Sage Vasishtha is making arrangements for a fertility rite.’

  ‘At this time? Spring is a full six moons off, is it not?’

  ‘This shall not happen by the oak.’ Ganga took a handful of berries from the basket, looked at them, and cast a few away. ‘This will occur on the banks of the Crystal Lake.’

  ‘And I am to partake in it.’

  ‘That is so. It has been a long while since the Lady of the River has gotten with child. The Wise Ones think it is time. I agree with them.’