The Aryavarta Chronicles Book 03: Kurukshetra

by Krishna Udayasankar

  Panchali said, ‘You look very handsome when you’re asleep, you know. Hardly like the wild creature you really are.’

  Unwilling to break that fragile happiness that they shared, Shikandin remained silent, but as a tip of flame breached the horizon, the words slipped from his mouth: ‘Who am I, Panchali?’

  Panchali considered his question. ‘You are my brother, Shikandin,’ she answered. ‘You are my brother, but you have cared for me and protected me as a father would his daughter. You are a warrior, a great warrior who brought down the mighty Bhisma in a battle that you know in your heart to be fair. You are the son of King Dhrupad, Dhrstyadymn’s brother and Govinda Shauri’s friend. You are a prince of the Panchala kingdom, a prince loved by his people. But above all that you are Shikandin, a man who dared speak for the voiceless when no one else would… You’ve dared to do what was right, no matter what it cost you and…’

  Shikandin placed a quick kiss on his sister’s forehead, cutting her short. Panchali looked up at him, willing him to see the love and respect she had for him. Then she was back on her feet and pulling at his hand. ‘Now stop lazing around and get up. There’s more battle to be done, and our armies need their bravest warriors to lead them.’

  Shikandin stood up. Arms linked, the two siblings walked back to the camp, cheered by the sight of the bright banners fluttering in the wind.

  13

  SYODDHAN WALKED INTO HIS COMMAND TENT, CONTEMPLATING the insignificant decorations and trappings that he had not noticed before, for no other reason than to avoid the obvious void left by Bhisma’s fall. Yet, there was only so long that the inevitable could be ignored. He stared at the ornate silver-white throne that had, upon his command, been brought all the way from Hastina, the sole ceremonial seat in the otherwise functionally appointed Command Tent. It stood at the head of the arrangement, the metal gleaming gold in the first light of the sun.

  Even though this was his war, Syoddhan had spared no effort in letting everyone know how much he respected the Grandsire, Bhisma Devavrata. It had been a reasoned decision as well as an emotional one, for Bhisma’s support was the ultimate endorsement of morality and fairness that anyone in Aryavarta could wish for. Bhisma had not only legitimized Syoddhan’s war, but he had also made Syoddhan feel justified, empowered, and complete in a way that he had longed to feel since childhood. Now Syoddhan realized that in their own ways grandfather and grandson had cared about each other, after all.

  What next? What do I do? Where does this path lead? Guide me, Grandfather… He rested a wistful hand on the silver throne. What if more loss, more pain is all that lies ahead. Perhaps we should think about peace…

  The notion stirred anger, a heated rage as red as the blood that had covered the fallen Bhisma, soaked into his silver mane. A warrior does not fear loss, he does not fear pain. I cannot let Bhisma’s death go in vain! Yet, Syoddhan could not completely dismiss the doubt he felt, as though he was no longer sure what he really fought for.

  A warm hand landed on his shoulder. ‘You must choose,’ Dron’s deep voice sounded in his ear.

  Syoddhan turned to face his teacher. ‘Is there really a choice, Acharya?’

  ‘There is always a choice. We both know that Bhisma loved Dharma and his brothers just as he does you and yours. Yet, he chose to fight for you for because he believed there was a principle at stake; a principle you too believe in, do you not?’

  ‘I did and I still do. Dharma’s terms, trivial as they might have been in form, would have served to undermine the very system that Aryavarta is built upon.’

  ‘And if those terms have changed?’

  Syoddhan said, ‘Perhaps it is time we find out.’

  ‘How?’ Dron asked. ‘I mean, even if we send a negotiator to Dharma, it will be Govinda’s words that come out of Dharma’s mouth.’

  ‘Govinda, Govinda. I don’t know whether it is amazing or terrifying what one man can bring an entire realm to. What is more irksome is that I cannot, for the life of me, understand what he wants.’

  ‘It isn’t all that complicated,’ Asvattama said, as he walked into the tent. The other commanders, including Dussasan, Vasusena, Kritavarman were with him. Each one took their usual seat in the tent, but not before letting their eyes drift to Bhisma’s empty throne. Syoddhan remained standing, a hand still on the silver chair. But for that singular absence, their council of war was complete. He directed his attention back to the matter at hand. ‘You were saying, Asvattama…?’

  ‘We assume that Govinda has some ulterior motive towards which he drives all events. Yes, that does seem typical of his character as we’ve always known it; except that he is no longer the same man, is he?’

  Dron was not pleased with his son’s candid speech. ‘Get to the point, Asvattama,’ he snapped.

  ‘What if all Govinda wants is what he says he wants.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘To change the way things are. To change the realm’s reliance on hierarchy and Divine Order. We assumed that his words are mere rhetoric, and that his intent is to seize power for himself. But what if he means what he says?’

  ‘That would make him a bigger fool than you!’ Dron snapped.

  ‘With all due respect, Father, that may be the beauty of his plan. We find it inconceivable, unthinkable, for we are taught to believe that the world is immutable but human beings are not; that the story remains the same but the players change. The Wheel of Time spins: there is beginning and there is end. But why does the Wheel of Time spin? Is it some divine force that propels it? Or is that force humanity, people in search of change and a better way of life? I do not say that Govinda is right, but I do think that he is honest when he claims that he wishes to see a different way of life prevail in Aryavarta. His demand, that the ouster of Dharma Yudhisthir be nullified, is not about making Dharma the Emperor once again as it is about saying, loud and clear to all in Aryavarta, that there are basic dignities, a fundamental freedom over the self that no one can control, usurp, trade…or gamble away, no matter what their authority and their place in the hierarchy.’

  The observation left the others stunned, more for the fervour of Asvattama’s words than their content. Each person present knew that Asvattama could not have said what he just had in Bhisma’s presence. But now that the Grandsire was gone, words and deeds would become plain. Dron shivered with controlled wrath, torn between wanting to discipline his son and hesitating to do so in front of everyone. Kripa laid a calming hand on him and continued the discussion in his stead.

  ‘The point you make is pertinent, Asvattama, for it shows Govinda Shauri to be a greater danger than we had thought. It is one thing to use rhetoric, as you called it, to disguise one’s intentions, but to think of questioning the existence of Divine Order – that is beyond heathen, it reeks of evil. I understand now why things have come to this pass – to be honest, I have had my share of doubts as to Suka’s lenience or foresight, as it may be, in allying with the Firewright Devala Asita. But when faced with a possibility that the world as we know it may change, we must find that which unites all and hold true to it.’

  Syoddhan said, ‘Which brings us back to where this discussion began. I do believe that Dharma may share our principles, our view of Divine Order, and if we consider what Asvattama says, it is imperative we explore the possibility. But is it even thinkable to have a frank discussion with Dharma, free of Govinda’s influence?’

  ‘What if we speak to him, or one of his brothers, alone?’ Dron proposed.

  ‘How would that be possible?’

  ‘It would be if we captured one of them alive.’

  Syoddhan said, ‘If anyone is capable of doing that, it is you, Acharya. You must lead us now.’

  Dron said, ‘I’d be honoured. But I’d also be remiss in that duty if I did not raise caution along with the promise of victory. Now that Bhisma Devavrata no longer fights, I fear that Dharma and his kinsmen may be less reluctant to engage in battle. There are old wounds that can be reopene
d and old feuds that may be resurrected on the battlefield. Dhrupad has not forgotten his defeat to me, and the need for vengeance is strong in his son, Dhrstyadymn. Bhurisravas of the Yadus and his kinsman Yuyudhana also have old scores to be settled. Sudakshin of Kashi… The list goes on. Many stand on either side for personal reasons, and it may not be possible to hold them back any longer. At the least, we should expect that Dharma will not be able to restrain those who fight for him. Eventually, the enemy, too, will begin to use astra-weapons.’

  ‘So it gets more violent and bloody,’ Dussasan said. ‘All wars come to that, sooner or later.’

  ‘Yes, and I’d rather there was less blood on our side.’

  ‘What do you suggest, Acharya?’ Syoddhan asked.

  ‘If Divine Order is to be preserved, then nothing that can help us is profane or inappropriate. Much has been hidden over the years for fear of it falling into the wrong hands. Some, like the Naga-astra, are as good as lost. It may be worthwhile to uncover such treasures, despite the risks involved. Never in the history of Aryavarta since the Battle of the Ten Kings has there been a greater need, a greater cause, than this.’

  ‘You don’t mean…’

  ‘I think,’ Kripa ventured, ‘what my brother-in-law is trying to say is simple. Those once trained by Firewrights don’t merely wield weapons, as Bhisma Devavrata did. We make them too. It is a pity that Devala is not here. Something tells me that many of the hurdles Dharma faced during his Imperial campaign were his doing.’

  Syoddhan turned to look for Devala, then remembered that he was yet to return from the task Asvattama had sent him on. Even so, to speak so openly of the Firewright as an asset was another thing that could not have happened in Bhisma’s presence. It made Syoddhan realize he needed to focus, to face the future and not mourn the past.

  ‘Very well,’ he declared. ‘Whatever we can do to win this war shall be done. I assume acharyas Kripa, Dron and Asvattama, too, have a lot to offer on this count. But there is one matter that I still wish to discuss. Acharya Suka. Should we not ask his opinion, too, before we proceed?’

  Sanjaya said, ‘We cannot afford the time, Your Highness. But in any case, if he were here I am sure he would agree with this proposal. After all, is he not the one who believed that the ends justify the means? Isn’t that right, Acharya?’ He looked pointedly at Dron, then at Asvattama, and back again at the former.

  ‘Absolutely right, Sanjaya,’ Dron said. ‘You’re absolutely right.’

  14

  ABHIMANYU WAS ON HIS WAY TO THE COMMAND TENT FOR THE morning meeting when he heard the sound of a low whistle. He stopped in his tracks, visibly surprised, when he saw Uttara waving to him from inside a supply tent. Grinning with anticipation at what he expected was a romantic encounter, Abhimanyu made his way over to where she was.

  The moment he entered the tent, he pulled Uttara close, rough and passionate in his embrace. ‘Kama help me, Uttara, I just can’t get enough of you,’ he whispered, becoming vaguely aware that she was laughing and protesting at the same time. He looked around him, to be greeted by stifled laughter and irreverent remarks from the group gathered in the tent.

  ‘Kama help me. Kama help me,’ Uttamaujas imitated him in excess before adding in his usual tone, ‘I think Kama owns you body and soul, Abhimanyu!’

  Hidimbya, though equally amused, was less taunting. ‘Never mind him, Abhimanyu. After all, it takes a married man to understand…’

  ‘He is right,’ Pradymna joined in, ‘besides, we are in the presence of a lady.’

  ‘Oh, did we offend you, Pradymna?’ Uttara joined in the banter, spurring a fresh round of guffaws.

  ‘Well, what is this about?’ Abhimanyu asked, sitting down on a bundle of rope.

  ‘Ah! It’s a meeting of the younger warriors, as it were,’ Pradymna said as the others settled down.

  ‘Younger? That rules you out, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Be serious!’ Uttara swatted Abhimanyu’s arm.

  ‘All right, all right. Seriously, what’s going on?’

  Hidimbya and Uttamaujas exchanged glances. Then Uttamaujas said, ‘Bhagadatta’s elephants. We may have found a way to deal with them.’

  ‘If you’re going to suggest astra-weapons…’ Abhimanyu began, impatient.

  ‘Us? Astra-weapons?’ Hidimbya said, raising an eyebrow.

  Abhimanyu was apologetic. ‘Well, you should be having this conversation with Dhrstyadymn and Uncle Dharma right away…’ He paused as the problem that the warriors had gathered to discuss became apparent to him. ‘You think they won’t listen to you?’

  ‘Uncle Dharma won’t listen to us,’ Hidimbya said. ‘Don’t deny it, Abhimanyu. You’ve already seen how he treats Uttamaujas, how they all do. I don’t hold it against them, it is what they have been brought up to believe. As for me, I haven’t been to the Command Tent even once as yet, and you know why Govinda thinks it best to keep my presence discreet for the time being. So…’

  ‘You need me to pass this off as my idea?’ Abhimanyu said.

  ‘Yes.’

  Abhimanyu appeared distinctly uncomfortable at the prospect. He turned to Uttara, as though seeking her advice. She said, ‘I’ve lost two brothers and many more of my countrymen, Abhimanyu. Unless we find a way to counter Bhagadatta…’ she finished with a helpless shrug.

  Abhimanyu laid a reassuring hand on hers. ‘So, this once, does the end justify the means?’ he said, as though talking to himself. He looked at the others. ‘All right then, what’s the plan?’

  Uttamaujas said, ‘Well, in most battle arrays elephants are used as defence or the second line of attack. It is only when their numbers are high that they are placed at the frontline – as in this situation. What we have been doing, our armies…it’s not wrong. Since horses are easily frightened and cavalry is no use against elephants, our infantry has been using spears and lances to attack the elephants in their abdomens. But the risk we face is high – elephants are weapons of war in themselves, but when they carry archers on their back they also work as moving towers, giving great vantage to marksmen.’

  ‘Right,’ Abhimanyu affirmed, not bothering to ask where and how Uttamaujas had learnt so much about warfare and that too in such little time. ‘So in such cases, there are typically two strategies available to the less powerful army – either they find a way to turn the elephants back into their own lines, preferably get them to run amok and attack their own men. The Yavanas, I’ve heard, set pigs or other small game afire and release them into the elephant herds. Some say it’s the flames, others say it’s the squealing of the pigs – but whichever it is, it works. There are others who recommend cutting the elephants’ trunks off…’

  Hidimbya was visibly disgusted. ‘Don’t tell me you…’

  ‘No chance, Chief. Uncle Govinda would send me squealing and running if we do that. Sometimes I think he cares more for animals than he does for humans.’

  ‘Which I completely understand and agree with.’

  ‘Getting to the second option,’ Uttamaujas continued, ‘we can capture elephants – particularly those that carry single warriors. And where the elephant is not to be tamed by its captor, a single arrow or a dagger to the neck, just in between the ears, will suffice to kill the animal without causing great suffering. We’ve been trying that, as well as the expected defences, including digging trenches and setting up stakes. But…’

  ‘But you have a third option, don’t you?’ Uttara said.

  Hidimbya said, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever been charged at by a wild elephant?’

  ‘I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.’

  ‘No loss, Mahamatra. The thing is, once you get an elephant to charge, it is very difficult to control it, make it change direction or bring it to a stop. A herd of elephants all the more so, because they follow their leader.’

  Uttamaujas added, ‘The point is, if we can cut off the main elephant in Bhagadatta’s attack – Supratika, I think that magnificent bull is called – then the
other elephants will be easier to deal with.’

  ‘If you’ve noticed,’ Abhimanyu said, ‘Bhagadatta never allows Supratika to be in the lead. The elephant and his mount are always in the centre of their formation. How do you suppose we can get through their first and second lines to reach Supratika?’

  ‘Aah. What if we don’t get through? What if we let them through instead?’ Uttamaujas said, a smile spreading across his face.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Abhimanyu said, turning to him.

  Uttara’s smile matched Uttamaujas’s as she explained, ‘I think he means we shall have the pleasure of being charged at by an elephant after all.’

  ‘This is your plan?’

  Abhimanyu was not sure whether Dharma was questioning the feasibility of the proposal or his claim of ownership over it. Not wanting to lie, he confirmed. ‘Some of us came up with it…’

  ‘Some of us?’ Dharma was unconvinced.

  ‘It’s not a bad idea,’ Bhim intervened. ‘If the first part of it works, then I’m confident I can get through to Bhagadatta.’

  ‘If, Bhim, if. Who dares face a herd of charging elephants? Who dares trust their lives to a whimsical plan?’

  ‘Those who’ve trusted their lives to us on less,’ Abhimanyu said. ‘We shall put the Matsya and Panchala infantry in the lead. The plan depends on getting Bhagadatta to spread out his elephants in one huge charge. We’ll have to position ourselves carefully.’

  ‘And once the first part of the plan goes through? Once Supratika falls or is captured? What of the other elephants? Who is to say they won’t run riot?’ Sadev asked.

  ‘We need to use the terrain carefully. If we can get them near the river…’

  Dhrstyadymn considered the situation, his brows furrowed. ‘It won’t be easy…the formation, but it can be done. What do you say, Govinda?’

  ‘I think,’ Govinda said from his customary position next to Panchali’s seat in the corner of the tent, ‘that the future of Aryavarta is bright if the next generation of its leaders is capable of courage like this.’