The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3

by Krishna Udayasankar

  Govinda smiled, tired. ‘We called it the Narayana-astra for a reason, Dharma. Now, I am weary beyond mention and need to get back to my tent to lie in submission for the night.’ With that he walked out of the Command Tent.

  Dharma watched him leave, then turned to the others. ‘Well?’

  Nakul shrugged. ‘Narayana… interesting play on words, if you think about it. Nara-ayana or resting man. Trust Govinda to come up with a cheeky name.’

  ‘I think,’ Panchali ventured, ‘that it’s more than a cheeky name. When have you known Govinda to speak in plain terms?’

  Sadev said, ‘You’re right, Panchali. And in that lies the solution to your problem, Dharma. The riddle or challenge, if you will. I think I begin to understand what Govinda keeps saying about means and ends…’

  ‘Which is?’ Dharma said.

  ‘If the ends justify the means, as you claim they do, then where is the dishonour in feigning or mimicking surrender in order to win this particular encounter? Why bother with what you describe as dishonourable, when it can help achieve our ends? Do you see?’

  ‘But what you’re saying justifies my argument. The ends do justify the means, do they not?’

  ‘And what is it you must give up to use these means, Agraja?’

  ‘Honour? A sense of self? But surely these are trappings, mere illusions…oh!’ Dharma paused as he saw the riddle within the riddle, the greatness of the cosmos mirrored in the mundane. ‘The divinity within humanity…’ he muttered one of Govinda’s oft-repeated phrases under his breath, trying to make sense of it all.

  ‘And so,’ Sadev concluded, ‘the cowherd named his weapon after the Supreme Being himself. He couldn’t be more irreverent…or persuasive.’

  ‘All this philosophy is fine,’ Dhrstyadymn interrupted. ‘But I still need Dharma to decide. If Asvattama uses the Narayana-astra again, tomorrow, what is it that we are to do?’

  Dharma thought long and hard. Panchali watched him, seeing doubt and certainty alternate in the shifting colours of his eyes. Whatever his flaws, Dharma’s intelligence and learning were not in doubt and, despite his adamant nature, his love for the truth forced him to always accept it when he could be brought to see that he was wrong. She reached out, laying her fingers on his arm. He turned to her, his expression one that she had not seen in a long while, not since the past days of friendship and companionable affection that had once been at the core of their relationship. Happiness fluttered within her, along with a glimmer of hope. She smiled and gently pressed his arm before removing her hand. Her touch seemed to help Dharma arrive at his decision.

  ‘Very well. If Asvattama uses the astra, we shall throw down our weapons. We shall,’ Dharma allowed himself a smile, ‘all bow to the spirit of the Creator within us.’

  Syoddhan clutched at his sides, laughing hard, so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks. Dussasan was howling and slapping his thigh with glee. All around them, men jeered and celebrated at the sight of Dharma’s army prone on the ground in what appeared to be surrender.

  ‘You’ve done it, Asvattama!’ Syoddhan grabbed hold of the warrior and shook him, delight apparent in his voice. ‘Look at them! Look at them! You’ve done it!’

  But Asvattama was far from happy.

  ‘What…?’ Syoddhan asked, confused.

  ‘He knows. Govinda knows how to defend against it. Puuya! The weapon is useless now.’

  ‘Then cast it again! Come now, Asvattama, with you on our side, victory is inevitable. Cast the weapon again. They’ve already been forced to rub their noses in the dirt. Dishonour has been meted out. Only death is left and that too we shall send their way. Go on!’

  Asvattama’s eyes glowed golden-brown. He said nothing, but raised his right hand. Syoddhan stared, revolted. The skin had burnt off Asvattama’s hand, revealing not just the red, bloody flesh but also the white bone underneath. With his other hand, Asvattama held out the wooden box Dron had given him, offering it to Syoddhan. Syoddhan immediately recoiled. Asvattama smirked, cold and wrathful. He threw the box into the nearby river and stalked off.

  Syoddhan turned back to the battlefield. Already, the mirth and celebration around him was beginning to dim as Dharma and his men picked themselves off the ground and got set to do battle again.

  ‘What happened? What happened?’ Dussasan asked, in a stupid daze.

  ‘Nothing. We fight.’

  Vasusena understood too well what weighed on Syoddhan’s mind. ‘Indeed,’ he said, snarling. ‘We fight. And they will die. Come, Dussasan! Let’s cheer your brother up with some blood. We won’t let Dharma and his brothers forget that they licked mud right in front of us, at our feet. It’s a fine start to the day, and I’ll make sure it ends well!’

  With mighty cries, the two men made their horses rear up in challenge and headed straight for Dharma.

  29

  ‘THE REASON WHY,’ VASUSENA EXPLAINED TO THOSE GATHERED in Syoddhan’s Command Tent, ‘the Bramha-astra is used in duels but not so much in wars despite its reputation as the deadliest astra ever, is that the toxin needs to penetrate the skin and enter the opponent’s bloodstream for it to induce fearful hallucinations. It can still be effectively used on the battlefield – often a few terrified, maddened men are all it takes to cause confusion, force the enemy to turn on their own. But weapons such as these…’ he pointed to the array of gleaming Wright-metal spread out on the table before him, ‘these are more like the Agneya-astra that Bhisma used. They are more suited to widespread damage and use in a war.’

  ‘They are also reprehensible,’ said Shalya, King of Madra. ‘To kill thousands at a single go… What chance does the enemy have to mount an effective defence? It is dishonourable, nothing less.’

  ‘You didn’t think so when the Grandsire fought with weapons such as these. Yet he is a hero, a scion of your race and I…’

  ‘Vasusena, please…’ Syoddhan tried to calm his friend down.

  Shalya continued to frown his disapproval. ‘Those weapons,’ he hissed, ‘were sanctified. Dwaipayana himself blessed them, he believed that the Grandsire was the best custodian of all Wright-weapons, for in his hands they could be put to good use, in defence of righteousness.’

  ‘And when Asvattama invoked that demon from hell, whatever it was…? That dust-weapon? Who sanctified that?’

  Asvattama drawled, taunting as always, ‘It needed no sanctification. I am Angirasa by birth, and a scholar by birth and training. Above all, I am Arya, and that too one who is loyal to the Firstborn. That is enough.’

  ‘How convenient for you…’

  ‘How would you know…Suta!’

  Speechless with acrimony, Vasusena glared at Asvattama.

  Syoddhan looked from one to the other, not sure which of his friends to placate.

  Before he could speak, Shalya sighed and began to explain as though to a child, ‘If I were to put it bluntly, Vasusena, Dwaipayana gave Bhisma and a few others the authority to use those weapons so as to ensure that no scoundrel who aspired to rule or pretended to be Arya would hold us hostage to power. I think the Vyasa meant for men like you to be in the second category, not the first. As a matter of fact, that is the very system, the principle of Divine Order that we struggle to defend. It is that principle that makes me act wholeheartedly for Syoddhan instead of against him. Duty and Divine Order are greater than avuncular affections. Not once during this war have I hesitated to attack any of Dharma’s soldiers, including my own nephews. I want to know that counts for something; I want to know that there is a value to the larger principle that I fight for.’

  Vasusena’s mind drifted to his unexpected meeting with Govinda on the eve of the final muster. He longed to tell Syoddhan, to explain to him what it was that Govinda truly wanted. But neither the present company nor the dour look on Syoddhan’s face suggested that his confession would be welcome. ‘All right, then,’ he declared. ‘Ask them. Ask your precious Firstborn what they want of us in this situation. I thought you fought for their way o
f life; on your head be it to stand in their way.’

  ‘And what do you care for the Firstborn and what they want?’

  ‘I care for my friend. I care for Syoddhan and what he wants. And if he believes that his honour lies in fighting for Divine Order, then so be it. He, in turn, knows what I wanted, but it is now too late for that.’.

  ‘Be that as it may,’ Asvattama intervened, ‘Dwaipayana is not here. Nor is Suka…’

  ‘Tell them to come,’ Vasusena suddenly flared up again. ‘I dare them to come here and look out on the battlefield, at the burning pyres and the piles of cadavers that await their turn. I dare them to come and see the result of their righteous battle.’

  ‘You sound confused, Vasusena,’ Dussasan said. ‘I hope your loyalties are clear.’

  ‘Vathu, Dussasan!’ Syoddhan finally spoke. ‘Kinsman or not, the next one to question Vasusena’s loyalty is a dead man.’

  ‘I stand with Syoddhan,’ Asvattama declared. ‘The matter before us is one of strategy, not of loyalty and trust. In my opinion, the matter is also a simple one. We have, through the efforts and discipline of Vasusena, weapons fashioned by the Bhargava Angirasas themselves. It would be a pity to let these gifts, these astras sanctified by the great Bhargava Rama – the same Firewright, if you remember King Shalya, who once trained the Grandsire Bhisma in the use of astras – go to nought.’

  Shalya said, ‘What do you propose then?’

  ‘In the proper hands, these weapons…’

  Vasusena interrupted. ‘Proper hands? Do you mean your hands, Asvattama? Is your lust for fame, for recognition as the greatest warrior, so strong that you…’

  ‘Why you…’ Asvattama bristled.

  ‘Quiet, both of you!’ Syoddhan commanded. He waited a while, considering both the men before him. He seemed to share silent words with Asvattama, after which he turned to Vasusena. ‘Will you lead our armies, my friend? Now that Acharya Dron has fallen, will you command the men?’

  ‘But…I…’ Vasusena was pleased but equally taken aback. He glanced at Asvattama, who nodded in agreement. Drawing in the reassurance with a deep breath Vasusena said, ‘Yes, Syoddhan. I will lead them. And I will bring you victory or die trying.’

  Syoddhan clapped a proud hand on Vasusena’s back. Then he turned to the others. ‘As for the decision before us – on my head be it. On my head be it all, this bloodshed and death, these terrible deeds. Use your weapons as you best deem fit, Vasusena. For good or bad, history shall say it was I who began this war, not you, not anyone else. I see no point in trying to engage Dharma or his brothers in a conversation anymore. If there is any hope for redemption, it lies in our victory. Give it all you’ve got.’

  Vasusena felt his heart brim with affection and respect for the man he considered his dearest friend. It overshadowed the strains of hesitation he felt, and the possibilities of fraternal affection he had briefly entertained disappeared. He said, resolute, ‘As you command, Your Highness. It shall be as you command. The strategy I propose is a simple one, not unlike what we have been doing all along. First, I will use astra-weapons to kill what measly divisions still remain in Dharma’s service. Once that is done, and there is no more room for formations, no place for them to hide their leaders, including Dharma Yudhisthir, I shall hunt down those who remain, one by one.’

  30

  ‘FIRST BHISMA, THEN DRON, NOW VASUSENA… IS THERE ANYONE in this damned war that you’ll deign to kill, Partha?’

  More than the nature of the words, it was a surprise to all to hear them come from Dharma. True, his day had not gone well, and Vasusena had pushed them to the very edge of defeat. But for him to openly chide his brother this way was a chilling reminder of their precarious state.

  Partha sighed, tired, but kept his temper. After sixteen days of bloodshed, he felt far too numb to respond to Dharma.

  ‘It isn’t easy to face Vasusena in a duel, Agraja,’ Bhim spoke up in his brother’s stead. ‘Imagine shooting at a moving mark, one that is in turn letting arrows loose upon you. Imagine further that this mark is exceptionally adept at anticipating your position, which makes defending yourself against it far more difficult.’

  ‘What are you trying to say, Bhim?’

  ‘That Vasusena is known as a good archer for a reason. The best of us can defend ourselves against him, but not defend against and attack him at the same time. By the time you have dealt with his shafts and let loose counter-arrows of your own, he has moved position. All this happens in the blink of an eye. I can’t explain it any better, but anyone who’s faced him knows what I mean…’

  ‘Everyone fails against Vasusena in exactly the same way, Agraja,’ Partha added. ‘By the time you can aim at Vasusena he’s already sent his arrows at you, usually more than one. His strategy makes him near-invincible. He gives his opponent no chance to attack him. I’m constantly on the defensive and…’

  Dharma cut in, ‘And this is your excuse? Partha? Bhim? Puuya! You’re supposed to be great warriors, and here you are, telling me tales like children…Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? I am, to have you cowards for my brothers! Weren’t you there on the battlefield today, when he spat in my face, when he called out those despicable insults. And those weapons… First Asvattama had us grovelling in the mud like fools, and then Vasusena arrived to rub our faces in it today!’

  ‘Dharma…’ Dhaumya tried to intervene. His eyes were tired from attending to the innumerable men who lay in the infirmary tent, and his hands were bloody. ‘We’re all at the end of our tethers. Let it be…’

  ‘Let it be? Let what be, Acharya? Defeat? Dishonour?’

  ‘Dharma…’ This time it was Govinda who spoke.

  ‘What, Govinda? First him, now you… How easy it is for those who do not fight to offer advice. This is a battlefield, and the privilege to comment on battle must be earned with blood.’

  ‘And he has that privilege,’ Yuyudhana snapped. ‘As for Govinda not fighting – don’t worry, I’ve killed enough for the both of us, and then some.’

  ‘Vathu!’ Dharma snapped. ‘Stay out of this! All of you stay out of this! This is between me and my brother!’ He turned once again to Partha, and said, ‘My brother, the one I trusted the most, the one I’ve cherished as a son all these years. He goes out there, the so-called hero of Aryavarta, and makes a mockery of us! All you’re good for is womanizing! Muhira!’

  ‘At least,’ Partha growled, ‘I’m not a hypocrite. But you…? Every night, you lie in Panchali’s bed, sated and spent, while out there men are dying for you! Even now you speak to me bearing her perfume on your body, and I stand before you with the blood of soldiers on my hands. How dare you call me a coward! I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Find someone else to wage your war!’

  With that, Partha threw down his weapons and stormed out of the tent. He paused as he walked past Panchali, and then, he was gone.

  Dharma watched him go, his eyes narrowing with the silent conviction of one who believed himself to be right. At length, he said, ‘Well then, let’s get down to it…’

  ‘You need to call him back, Dharma,’ Govinda softly ventured.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We need Partha. We need him because he is a great warrior and because, as you so rightly pointed out, everyone thinks he is a hero. Whether you admit it or not, the men need him to look up to.’

  Dharma lost what little control he had left. ‘We need him? We need him? No, we don’t! I am Emperor here, not Partha Savyasachin! You’re to blame for this display of his ego, Govinda! You’ve made him believe that he’s indispensable. Well, you both are wrong!’

  ‘Agraja…’ Bhim began.

  ‘Are you my brother, or not, Bhim?’ Dharma said.

  ‘Agraja, I…’

  ‘Will you fight or not, without Partha?’

  Bhim hesitated before answering, ‘I’ll do as you command, Agraja.’

  ‘And you, my brothers?’ Dharma turned to Nakul and Sadev. ‘Will you fight?’

 
Both men nodded.

  ‘And what about you, Commander?’

  Dhrstyadymn said nothing, but glanced at Govinda.

  ‘Oh, so it’s come to that, has it?’ Dharma shouted. ‘Now you will defy me, will you, Govinda? What will you do, if I refuse to yield? Kill me and take all that you’ve wanted for your own? Come, Govinda; come Yuyudhana; come now, all at once. My brothers, kinsmen, friends…sate your thirst with my blood and let this torment be over, by Rudra!’

  ‘Dharma, please…’ Govinda’s voice was unusually strained. He looked around at the angry faces and heaving chests, and made his decision. Walking up to Dharma, he slowly went down on his knees before the former emperor. With both hands, he clasped Dharma’s feet and lowered his head to the ground in the most submissive and servile of postures.

  Dharma was astounded, as was everyone else around them.

  ‘I once called you my brother, remember?’ Govinda said, his head still bowed. ‘The day we first met, at Kampilya…? That day you embraced me as you would Sadev and Nakul, and we all laughed, our hearts filled with hope for the future. I ask you now – no – I beg you, as your brother, forgive Partha his harsh words and call him back. We need him, Dharma.’

  Dharma crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Your words and actions have hardly been those of the obedient brother you now claim to be, Govinda.’

  ‘Then, forgive me too, Your Highness. For all the loyalty I’ve shown you, for all the blood I’ve spilt for you, before Kurukshetra, forgive me and grant me this…’

  Silence.

  Yuyudhana glared from Govinda to Dharma, his jaws clenched tight with anger. Shikandin’s grey-green eyes flashed in anger, and a vein throbbed at Pradymna’s neck.

  ‘All right,’ Dharma said. ‘I forgive you both. Now get up, Govinda. Bhim, go speak to Partha. Tell him I bear him no malice. It’s been a long day for all of us, and not all that was said, was meant. Go, sleep now, all of you. Tomorrow I myself shall duel with Vasusena.’