The Aryavarta Chronicles Book 03: Kurukshetra

by Krishna Udayasankar

  ‘Really,’ she chided him, ‘would it have killed you to hide?’

  He replied, ‘Would it have killed you to keep your clothes on? I refused to sneak off behind drapes and cower under tables; you think there’s any honour in hiding behind…’

  ‘A woman?’ the Queen prompted.

  ‘A naked woman. If you’d held the commandant off with a sword, I’d have been proud to be so protected.’

  The Queen faltered, taken aback by the statement. She thought for a moment and then shook her head. ‘I didn’t know what else to do. I was terrified that if you were caught you’d be… Damn you to the fires of Patala, Shikandin. Just when I find a good reason to be angry with you, you say something that reminds me why I didn’t kill you in the first place.’ Smiling, she added, ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  ‘Its good to see you too, Mahamatra.’ Shikandin smiled, the age-drawn lines at the edges of his eyes deepening in a way that the queen found attractive. ‘Now, if you could please put your clothes back on? I’m trying hard to be a decent man here, but I am just a man…’ he jested.

  ‘As if you could be anything but decent.’

  ‘I suppose it is a fit punishment that you keep reminding me of the opportunity I lost.’

  ‘No, Shikandin. It is not fair on my part, though I admit it is amusing. What you did then, your refusal to have your way with me though you stood as the conqueror of Kashi…’

  ‘I suppose that was when you fell in love with me?’ Shikandin teased her yet again.

  The Queen laughed, throwing her hands up to admit defeat in the friendly debate. Then she began to get dressed. The moment for levity had passed. Settling her clothes in place, she turned again to Shikandin. ‘What now? Sudakshin won’t change his mind. He means to ally our considerable armies with Syoddhan. And we both know that it’s not the numbers alone that matter, but equally the message it sends through the realm. By law, Sudakshin swore his allegiance to Dharma Yudhisthir.’

  ‘And many would claim that by law the allegiance passed from Dharma to Syoddhan when the empire was lost. But that is not what this war is about. It is not about lost empires and shattered egos.’

  ‘Then? Why are you here, Shikandin? You know already that your visit is in vain as far as getting my son to ally with Dharma Yudhisthir goes. In fact, sooner or later, rumours of your visit will force Sudakshin to declare his support for Syoddhan, whether Syoddhan asks for it or not. Or…’ she tapered off into thought. ‘Is that what you want?’

  Shikandin avoided the direct question. He said, ‘This is not about what I want, Mahamatra. You know I am but an instrument; I act on another’s behalf.’

  ‘But to what end? No one understands Panchali’s grief and outrage more than I. I do not claim to have suffered as she does, but to present myself before you the day my husband died, dressed as a bride… I can’t ever forget what I felt. I remain angry with the world we live in for putting me in that position. I suppose if I could, I too would want war to be avenged, but…’

  Shikandin was visibly taken aback. ‘You think this war is about the vengeance of a woman wronged? Yes, that may well be what it will go down as in history and lore. But it is more than that. I know it is, but I don’t have the words to explain.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain. I understand it, as do a number of the people of Kashi, including our vassal lords. Noble though it may be, our way of life is nothing but servitude. It does not take long for servitude to turn to subjugation. Dharma Yudhisthir’s actions have established precisely that.’

  ‘So you stand with Dharma Yudhisthir? Though your son does not?’

  ‘I stand with the people of Kashi. Though, I suppose, you find such words empty when they come from privileged lips?’

  ‘Privileged, yes, but beautiful, too. Seriously, who am I to judge your sincerity, my queen? After all, I am just one more of these oppressive royals, part of this system that treats the people as nothing more than property. Besides…’ he added, as he saw the Queen prepare to argue further, ‘all this talk of war is premature. These preparations are nothing more than posturing.’

  The Queen did not miss the disapproval in Shikandin’s voice. ‘You’re not happy with that. You’d rather fight, wouldn’t you?’

  Shikandin considered her words briefly, as though the thought had not occurred to him before. ‘Yes. You’re right, I’d rather fight. Not because I don’t like or don’t want peace. And not because Panchali is my sister. Not even for Govinda Shauri. There’s someone else, someone whose rebellion – and I say rebellion and not vengeance for a reason –has been a long time coming. There is someone else I must fight for, before the end. She…she was from Kashi, too.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Never mind. Enough of all this talk of battle and politics. Have you got any better at playing tigers and lambs since we last met?’ Shikandin pointed to the ornate game tile and coins that sat, disused, on a small table.

  The Queen said, ‘Hah! You’re the one who needed to improve. A child who plays with cowrie shells and lines drawn in the sand could beat you!’

  The rest of the night passed in easy conversation and light-hearted play. A little before dawn, Shikandin stood up and stretched. ‘Send for your handmaiden,’ he told the Queen. ‘I’ll see her to safety. Sooner or later the commandant will take his anger with you out on her, and she won’t survive it. She’d be better off going back to wherever it is she came from.’

  The Queen said, ‘Her village is somewhere near the border,’ she said, making her way into the antechamber where her attendants slept. She emerged with the girl in tow. ‘Go with him,’ she commanded. The handmaiden shrank away, frightened.

  Shikandin reached out in an attempt to placate her, but she hid behind her mistress, whimpering like a child.

  ‘Where are you from?’ Shikandin asked her.

  ‘Answer him!’ the Queen instructed. The handmaiden mumbled the name of a village that Shikandin recognized as being on the fringes of the Eastern Forest.

  ‘I know that place,’ he told her. ‘I’ve been there.’

  Confusion and curiosity finally made the girl stop crying. She looked up at Shikandin, daring to meet his eyes. He reached out to take her hand in his and said, ‘I swear to you on Amba’s memory, I will see you safely home.’ The girl gasped, as did the Queen, at the mention of the name. And then she stepped out from behind the Queen.

  ‘Meet me at the entrance to the royal gardens,’ Shikandin instructed her. My horse is there. Go!’

  With a grateful but timid smile at her mistress, the girl left.

  ‘Farewell, Mahamatra,’ was all Shikandin said before he slipped silently over the palace walls to disappear into the darkness.

  Just like some illicit lover, the Queen noted as she watched him go, wondering if the sadness she felt at his departure was simply regret that he had never become one.

  12

  THE HANDMAIDEN WOKE UP WITH A START AT THE TOUCH ON her arm but then relaxed as she found herself looking at a familiar face…Or was it? The man was undoubtedly Shikandin, except that Shikandin seemed to have grown younger overnight. Her confusion increased as he asked her, ‘Are you alone? Are you all right?’

  She sat up with a squeal, trying to push the man away. He staggered back. Taking advantage of the moment, she scrambled to her feet but realized as she made to run that she had no idea where she was. All she remembered was the three days of riding through forests, most of the time with Shikandin walking alongside, leading the horse. They had taken care to avoid villages and roadways and had not seen another living person during the entire journey. The girl had been amazed by Shikandin’s ability to negotiate the woods, whether it was to hide or to find food, and had also gradually realized that he was doing all he could to make her feel safe and comfortable.

  They had hardly spoken. Once, he had asked her if she was all right, and another time she had enquired, ‘Amba… You swore on her you’d keep me safe. What is she to you?’


  In response, Shikandin had pulled a string of immaculately wrought beads out from under his tunic and held them up for her to see. The beads had shone as fire by the light of the sun, the lotus-shaped engravings blooming to life as flowers that would never fade. ‘I…I don’t understand,’ the handmaiden had confessed. ‘My people, the forest-dwellers, worship Amba. Are you…?’

  ‘I am one of your people,’ had been the reply.

  The statement had given rise to more questions. She knew that Shikandin was a prince of Panchala, and did not see what his connection to Kashi or to the people of the Eastern Forest could be. But as the day progressed, she had grown too tired for thought. She hardly remembered when they stopped to make camp or when she had lain down on the ground and instantly fallen asleep.

  That had been last night and she must have, she realized, slept long, for the sun was now edging overhead towards noon. Shikandin and his horse were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘I won’t hurt you…Please don’t be afraid.’ The young man tried to approach her again.

  This time she was bolder. ‘Don’t you know me?’ she blurted out, causing the man to look as confused as she felt. ‘Shikandin, it’s me…’ she persisted.

  The words apparently made some sense to the man, for he laughed and said, ‘Being mistaken for Shikandin Draupada is probably the best compliment I get. It has happened once or twice before, but I never tire of it.’

  ‘But…’

  Her words were cut off by the metallic ring of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. She jumped, thought to move away, but found herself stunned by the scene before her. The young man had spun around at whiplash speed, pulling his sword out in the same move. The blade now hovered but a finger’s breadth away from the older – and undoubtedly original – Shikandin’s neck. Shikandin himself stood watching, his horse by his side. It amazed the handmaiden that she had heard neither of them approach and the younger man had, but the sentiment was lost as the situation became clear. ‘Don’t hurt him!’ she shouted at the young man, before she could stop herself.

  The man dropped his sword and sheathed it, a grin wrinkling the corners of his mouth. ‘I’ll try not to,’ he jested even as he was pulled into a single-handed embrace by Shikandin, who looked just as delighted. He then turned to pat the horse’s flank, adding, by way of explanation, ‘Besides, my father could take on ten of me any day!’

  ‘Your father?’ she looked from one man to the other, finally comprehending as she noticed the green-brown eyes and the sculpted nose that both men had.

  ‘Yes,’ Shikandin affirmed. ‘This handsome rogue is indeed my son. Uttamaujas.’

  ‘Father!’

  Shikandin turned around at the shout to see his youngest son, Kshatradharman run to him. Despite his height, the boy was only nine years old; young enough to throw his arms around his father’s neck. Shikandin lifted the boy up and whirled him around before setting him down next to his brother. ‘Where’s your uncle?’

  ‘He’s become a slow, old fool,’ a gruff voice answered. A hardy man, a forest-dwelling tribal by his aspect, emerged from the forest. He used his spear for support as he walked, and his left leg had an obvious limp.

  ‘When did that happen, Sthuna?’ Shikandin asked, concerned.

  ‘A lot has happened in these past months, Shikhandin. But first, who is this young lady? Where did you find her?’

  Shikandin quickly explained the handmaiden’s situation to the others. Sthuna listened, sombre. Then he said, ‘She’s fortunate. She has a village to go back to. Many others don’t. The attacks on our people have increased. Some come to search for the Naga-astra and leave bloody trails in their wake. Others take our men and women, the children, too, to work in their forges. The very forges you once destroyed. But what’s the point! It’s the same old thing all over again. Devala Asita and his false promises of power. It is we who pay the price!’

  ‘Then, it is we who must fight against such tyranny. Have you been able to muster soldiers?’

  ‘Men, yes,’ Sthuna said. ‘Soldiers, no… But they are brave and strong and all we have, really. But I must say this: They fight for you, Shikandin, not for some emperor. They will come because you have told them to. The forest realms, from the woods of Panchala to Kosala and Kashi, are with you. But I hope you know what you are doing.’

  Shikandin shook his head. ‘In that case, they need not come. Enough, Sthuna. No more fighting for this leader or that, for this king or that. Tell them to come only if they wish to fight for themselves. Be very clear about that!’

  ‘Really, Shikandin, do you think they understand the difference? Do you think she understands?’ Sthuna gestured, not unkindly, to the handmaiden. ‘She follows you because she was told to. Words like “Divine Order” have very a simple meaning for her. Obey or die! All she knows is that she was born to serve, to serve and yield, and to defy that destiny is forbidden. It is all that each one of us knows! We don’t have your Arya notions of honour and self-worth – not because we lack those qualities but simply because we are denied that grace. How then do you expect me to explain to the men that they must fight for themselves; for a sense of right and freedom that I do not know how to explain?’

  ‘The honour you speak of, Sthuna, is nothing more than a fetter; another way of saying “obey or die”. By that honour, I’d have spent my life hunting down the people of the Eastern Forests – my people – not helping to hide and save them from my father’s men. True honour is not something that is given to us; it exists within us. Tell the men to trust in themselves.’

  Sthuna persisted, ‘Our men fight for you, because you call them. It is you they trust. Stone and Tree save me, you might as well be our Emperor.’

  ‘Uncle…’ Uttamaujas placed a hand on Sthuna’s shoulder, calming him down as a matter of habit. A strained quiet fell on the glade, marred only by Kshatradharman’s restless shuffling as he watched the adults, uncomfortable.

  It was the handmaiden who spoke. ‘I followed him because he promised me freedom and safety. Because he told me that I had a choice other than to submit to whatever I was commanded to do. It is true, it took me a while to understand what that meant – when my Queen first told me to go with him I just thought it was…for his pleasure…a pleasure that I was duty-bound to provide. But I was wrong,’ she said, not daring to look at Shikandin. ‘It is true, I don’t fully understand what my forest-brother here is talking about,’ she said, smiling at Sthuna, ‘and I don’t know if that is the difference he speaks of. But this is why I followed Sh…Shikandin. Not because I had to, but because I chose to.’

  Shikandin laid a hand on the girl’s head. ‘You’re a brave one, you know that?’ he said. He turned to Sthuna. ‘Give our people the choice. The decision is theirs. If they agree, lead them to Matsya. But first I need you to take this young lady home.’

  Uttamaujas said, ‘I can take her home. I’ll find my way to Matsya on my own after that. Uncle Sthuna need not bother.’

  The offer was innocent enough, but neither Shikandin nor Sthuna missed the eagerness in the younger man’s voice. The handmaiden too noticed, for she protested, though quite ineffectually.

  ‘No, Uttamaujas,’ Shikandin finally said. ‘I need you to come with me. You must meet the others; you must train. There is a lot for you to do at Matsya.’

  ‘Oh…’ Uttamaujas did not dissent, but was visibly crestfallen.

  ‘Right, we better get moving,’ Sthuna said. He added, sullen, ‘I will meet you at Matsya, Shikandin, but I make no promises of the numbers I will bring with me. Too much hope would not be wise. I will do as you ask, but…’ he shook his head and then would say no more.

  ‘Thank you,’ the handmaiden said, turning to Shikandin. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am. If you are in these parts again, please do come by my village.’ She trailed off as she realized how commonplace and hackneyed that sounded, but could not resist turning to Uttamaujas and adding, ‘You too. I…that is, we…my family would be happy to see you.’ />
  A flustered Uttamaujas simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and Sthuna and his new ward set off on their way.

  ‘Right. Our turn,’ Shikandin said. ‘We need to buy horses for you two and then head…Uttamaujas, are you listening to me?’

  ‘Oh! Yes, Father,’ said the young man, though he clearly was not. He absently continued, ‘I suppose it would be nice to visit her village someday…’

  Shikandin smiled and slapped his son on the back. He did not dwell too long on the thought that neither he nor Uttamaujas might return to these lands or see the people who lived there again.

  13

  THERE WAS A QUALITY TO THE JUNGLE, ABHIMANYU OBSERVED, that made his company more bearable to Uttara.

  For the past ten days, the two of them had trekked through the woods on foot, leaving their accompanying attendants and guards at the hermitage near Kamyaka, where, ostensibly, the couple was offering prayers for a long and happy married life under the guidance of Acharya Dhaumya. In truth, the two had used the cover of the forests to journey eastward, through Surasena, right to the enemy’s stronghold.

  Crossing the border into Western Kuru and then journeying southeast to Varana forest, near Hastina, had been the most dangerous part. It had taken up a fair part of their time, for it had been imperative they avoid being seen by anyone, especially the enemy soldiers who patrolled the forests in these troubled times. Strangely, this part of their journey had been far more pleasant than the first, and Uttara and Abhimanyu had actually had a few short conversations that could, without stretching one’s imagination, be considered friendly.

  Abhimanyu, for his part, nurtured a small corner of romance in his heart, and so wished that this journey would not soon come to an end. His initial flirtations with Uttara, when he had first met her, had been a matter of habit as much as attraction, but over the past months he had come to like being around her in a companionable way as well as in a sensuous one. She fascinated him, she tempted him, she riled and delighted him. More than anything, she commanded his respect. Uttara was bold and forthright without making a show of it – the sign of a woman who took her equality as a right and not a privilege. In fact, one of the things that had initially irked her the most about him was his overt assertion of the principle.