by Unknown
The best times were when the travelling ascetic, Carvaka, visited Kripa. The evenings spent with them were magical. Suyodhana and Aswathama would sit in rapt attention, enjoying the wit and banter of the two men who constantly argued in a friendly manner while the river flowed swiftly behind them. Crows returning to roost would fill the trees above. Men and women would be hurrying back from the day's work, some leading cattle, some with baskets balanced on their heads, while others rode bullock carts towards their villages. Devotees would be walking to the temple, where the Priests would be chanting mantras and praising the Gods. Beggars would be waiting at the temple steps, acting more miserable than they were to coax alms from the devotees who had brought offerings for the Gods and Priests. Vendors of jasmine, sweets and boiled nuts, would weave through the milling crowds, selling their wares. Life did not care about the theories the two Gurus were bickering about. Life moved on, irrespective of philosophy, despite the Gods and the thoughts of men. But that did not take away from the enjoyment the boys felt on listening to the old masters argue with each other. Suyodhana, Aswathama, and even the less intelligent Sushasana, learnt more from such wonderful evenings than from Drona's many classes.
***
A whack on the head rudely jolted Suyodhana out of his reverie. His classmates' laughter scorched his ears.
"So you oaf, what is the answer?" Drona barked.
Suyodhana had not even heard the question. He looked helplessly at his friend, Aswathama. But the boy did not meet the Prince's pleading eyes. He sat with his gaze fixed on the ground. For a moment, Suyodhana thought his friend was ashamed of his father's behaviour. Then he saw his lips pressed together, trying to suppress his mirth. What was so funny? "I did not hear the question, Swami." This evoked more laughter.
"I know you are dumb and like your father, blind to right and wrong. But are you deaf as well?" Drona smiled but the Guru's eyes betrayed the malice he felt. More laughter followed as Suyodhana stood alone, stung by the insults and hurt by the unfairness of it all.
"You keep hanging around those good-for-nothing Brahmins, Kripa and Carvaka. You make fun of the Priests and spend your time under the Banyan tree those rascals have made their den. You have spoilt my son too. You roam the streets without caring for the taboos or about pollution; touching everyone, eating with Shudras and playing with children from the slums. Do you know that your friend Kripa is teaching that son of a Suta to be a Brahmin? Rama... Rama... I think the Kali Yuga is near. Sutas learning the Gayatri and Shudras studying to be literate! People like Kripa and Carvaka, who were fortunate enough to be born Brahmins, are throwing away their good karma by teaching everyone to read the Vedas. What is the world coming to? And you, Prince Suyodhana... no, I should call you Duryodhana, for that is what you are - one who does not know how to handle arms, is clumsy-footed, a nitwit... You bring only shame on your ancient line and on Hastinapura, Prince."
An awed hush followed these words. But Suyodhana looked straight back at his Guru. "Swami, I do not find any reason to be ashamed. I have done what my heart says."
"Duryodhana, if everyone did only what he pleased, society would soon collapse. That is why there are rules. That is why taboos exist. It is what the scriptures have ordained. It is our dharma." Drona walked up and down, delivering the speech he had rehearsed a hundred times in his mind.
Suyodhana's heart sank. He resented the vicious nickname that many relished calling the sons of Dhritarashtra. Though the Princes' names all started with the auspicious prefix Su, they were referred to with the inauspicious prefix Du behind their backs, right from their childhood. Suyodhana became Duryodhana, Sushasana was Dushasana, Sushala was called Dushala, and so on. The Guru's taunts had ensured the inauspicious names became fixtures.
"Do I have to wait till the end of the world to get an answer from you? Can anyone else answer?" Drona turned towards the Pandavas, who eagerly raised their hands.
"You, Yudhishtra, my son, what is the answer?"
Yudhishtra began quoting from the scriptures with consummate ease while Drona listened raptly. Suyodhana heard nothing. He was sick of always being on the receiving end of Drona's ire. He wanted to be out there listening to Kripa and Carvaka. He longed for the throbbing life of the streets. What use had he for these long-forgotten chants and useless rituals?
The class stood up and moved from the clearing towards the jungle. Aswathama tugged at Suyodhana's hand but Suyodhana only glared at him. He had not forgotten the stifled laughter of the Guru's son when his father was insulting him.
"Hey, please forget it Suyodhana. I did not mean it." Aswathama tried to put a hand on the Prince's shoulder, but Suyodhana shrugged it off and walked on.
Drona was walking quickly towards the forest with the Pandavas enthusiastically following him. Suyodhana searched for Sushasana, but could not find him amongst the screaming and running boys. Dust swirled everywhere and the sun was getting hotter.
"My father is not as bad as you think," said Aswathama from behind him.
"As if I care." Suyodhana walked faster, trying to escape the Guru's son but he knew he was incapable of holding a grudge against his best friend. His only friend. Suyodhana stopped abruptly. "What is the Guru up to?" He could feel the tension easing out of Aswathama who came to stand beside him.
"It could be one of his practical lessons." The two boys looked at each other in dismay. They dreaded such lessons as there would be constant comparisons with the Pandavas. Arjuna was developing into an ace archer. However hard they tried, no other student could match his skill. Drona, who was stingy in praising his son, was effusive when it came to Arjuna.
By the time Suyodhana and Aswathama got to them, the other boys were already seated on the ground and the Guru was preparing a new test. The boys' chattering and the afternoon heat made Suyodhana feel drained but there was no escaping until the lesson ended. He looked around and saw something move in the jungle. The bush on the far side of the clearing shook in an unnatural way. The trembling of the leaves did not follow the flow of the breeze. He stared for a long time, waiting for whatever was hiding behind the bush to move again. Dragonflies buzzed around, alighting on the grass and then scurrying away in alarm. Another movement caught Suyodhana's eye. Was it a Naga warrior hiding there, waiting to ambush them? Aswathama whispered to Suyodhana to pay attention to what his father was doing and the Prince tore his gaze away from the bush.
The Guru was standing inside a small circle he had drawn. "Silence!" Drona raised his hands. The hum of voices died away. "I am going to conduct an important test today. Who will volunteer?"
Nobody moved. All the boys suddenly found the ground below their feet very interesting and sat with their eyes fixed downwards.
"No one... no one volunteers to go first. Fine, then I will have to pick." Drona's eyes scanned the class. Every boy prayed the Guru would spare him. "Aswathama." There was a collective sigh of relief as the nervous Aswathama stood up. "Come here and stand in this circle. Do not forget to bring your bow and arrows."
Suyodhana nodded reassuringly as Aswathama slowly picked up his bow and quiver and walked into the circle drawn by his father.
"Look there," Drona said, pointing to a distant mango tree. "What do you see?"
Was there a catch? Aswathama's heart thumped in his ribcage. What was there to see other than a mango tree?
"It is a mango tree."
"If you befriend a blind man's son, what else will you see? Get back to your seat."
Aswathama sat down, trying not to look at Suyodhana.
Suyodhana was burning with anger. Why did the Guru drag his blind father into everything? Was it his fault that he was blind? Was it not Lord Shiva's will? Now what was the Guru pointing at? Had he seen the bush that was possibly hiding a Naga warrior? Suyodhana tried to concentrate on the mango tree. What was so special about it?
"Bhima."
The enormous Pandava walked with his characteristic elephantine gait to reach the circle. Drona raised an eyebrow in
question.
"I see a few ripe mangoes in the tree," Bhima said. The boys laughed aloud.
"My little Prince is hungry I believe." Bhima blushed like a coy bride at the Guru's words. "Please take your place, my son."
Suyodhana tried hard to see what was so special about the mango tree, as one by one, all his cousins and brothers were called. No one was able to answer to the Guru's satisfaction. Finally, Suyodhana heard Drona call his name. He stood and walked towards the circle. As he neared, he saw them - two parrots sitting on the topmost branch of the tree. It was spring and love was in the air. Lost in their lust and love, the birds were oblivious to the danger that awaited them. As he saw them, the horror of what the Guru was asking struck Suyodhana.
"What do you see there?"
"I see love."
"What are you? A poet? Draw your bow and tell me what you see there."
"Swami, I see life. I see two souls, united in love. I see bliss in their eyes and hear celebration in their voices. I see the blue sky spread like a canopy above them. I feel the breeze that ruffles their feathers. I smell the fragrance of ripe mangoes..."
Smack! Suyodhana felt his cheek burn. He staggered and almost fell. It took a moment for him to realise Drona had struck him. "You fool! You good-for-nothing rascal! Are you making fun of me? You think, because you are a Prince, you can taunt a poor Brahmin? I am trying to make you into a warrior and you talk like a woman. Get out of my sight!"
Suyodhana walked back with his head hung in shame. The unkind words stung. He had intended no insult to his teacher.
"A woman!" Bhima called out, and all the boys laughed.
Suyodhana wanted to take on fatso, but before he could move, Drona called the last boy. "Arjuna."
The middle Pandava Prince stood up and walked to the centre. Drona beamed at his favourite student as Arjuna touched his Guru's feet before entering the circle. Sushasana muttered a curse and a few boys from the Kaurava camp snickered. Drona glared at them and silence descended. He turned to Arjuna, who was standing with his bowstring taut. The setting sun kissed the tip of his arrow, making it glow blood red. "Tell me, son. What do you see there?"
"I see the eye of a bird, which is my target."
"Sabash! Bravo my son. Shoot!"
"No..." Suyodhana shouted, but Arjuna's arrow was swift. It pierced the bird's eye and brain and lifted the little body a few feet into the air before plunging to the ground with its impaled prey.
The Pandavas clapped at this impressive feat of archery. Drona shed tears of joy and hugged his favourite pupil. The distressed cries of the dead bird's mate filled the sky. It circled the tree over and over again and then dropped down beside its fallen love. It screeched in an agony of loss; tapping its dead mate with its beak. But there were no eyes to see the bird's misery, other than that of a blind man's son. Drona made a speech praising Arjuna's marksmanship, his dedication, and his eye for seeing only the target. He said that the most important qualities of a warrior were unflinching aim, the determination to achieve victory at any cost, and seeing only what was essential. The dharma of a warrior was to shoot where his superiors told him to, not to question why.
Suyodhana heard none of it. He walked towards the fallen bird, ignoring the angry calls from his Guru. As he neared, the bird's mate looked at him suspiciously and screeched, perhaps cursing him. Suyodhana could not control his tears. The little creature seemed to sense the teenager's distress. With the wisdom that nature gives those who are unspoilt by thoughts of right or wrong, the small bird sensed the human meant no harm, and sat mourning its love, killed by the warriors of dharma. The Prince of Hastinapura knelt a few feet away, his heart heavy. The breeze ruffled the feathers of the dead bird. The Prince paused, hoping life remained, but death does not return what it has claimed. The bird understood the ultimate truth first and stopped its cries. But the Prince was just a fool who had not studied the scriptures enough to know that death is just like changing clothes and that the soul never dies. He sat hoping against hope that the little bird would stir and he could take it home and nurse it back to health. Behind him, a jubilant teacher and his favourite students returned to the palace. The lesson of dharma had been strongly instilled; at least in the minds of the Pandavas.
As Suyodhana reached out to touch the dead bird, the sound of running feet startled him. Two dark-skinned boys ran out from behind a bush and grabbed the dead bird. "Hey!" Suyodhana yelled at the vanishing figures of two Nishada boys. He drew his sword but hesitated for a moment, glancing back at his cousins and brothers, walking towards the palace. It was dangerous to follow the Nishadas. The forest was infested with Naga warriors and the Crown Prince of Hastinapura falling into their hands would be a disaster. It was foolish and reckless. But the agonized cries of the parrot hovering above its dead mate, made the Prince follow. 'To hell with security,' he thought, as he plunged into the darkness of the jungle.
***
Trees towered hundreds of feet over Suyodhana and cut off the fading sunlight. The eerie chirping of crickets and the croaking of toads added to his unease. The thieves were nowhere to be seen. They had vanished into the dark maze of creepers and vines. After a while, the Prince realized he had lost his way and cursed himself for his own madness in following them. He moved aimlessly forward, hacking at the thick undergrowth; sometimes finding his way by listening to the cries of the grieving parrot. By the time he stumbled upon a small clearing, it was dark and the bird had accepted its loss and flown away into the night.
A small fire burned in the clearing and a woman with seven children of varying ages, sat around it. The dancing flames cast a ghostly light onto their dark faces. Over the flames, the dead bird was being roasted as the children waited expectantly. Suyodhana was shocked. What bestiality! What cruelty! What sort of devils would do this? He wanted to drag them to Hastinapura and punish them. But before he could act, a hand on his shoulder restrained him. Startled, Suyodhana turned back. "Aswathama!" Hearing his voice, the eldest boy turned towards them. Aswathama quickly pushed Suyodhana down behind the bushes and motioned to him to remain silent. The Nishada boy looked in their direction for a few seconds more and then got up to see whether the bird had cooked. He began cutting it up and distributing it to the others.
"Ekalavya, give me a bigger piece, I found it," a small boy cried.
"Jara, you scoundrel! You have such a big stomach." Cursing, Ekalavya took a minuscule portion more and thrust it at the complaining boy. Jara grabbed it, attacking it like a hungry dog.
Suyodhana watched in horror as the Nishada family ate with relish. As they were licking their hands clean, the woman said to Ekalavya, "It is good that your hunting skills have improved. This was a small bird but it was better than nothing. The boys were famished. Tomorrow, try for bigger game."
"But he did not..." A savage kick from Ekalavya ensured Jara's silence.
"What a beast!" Suyodhana hissed from his hiding place.
"Do not judge them, Prince. Did you not hear the woman? They have not eaten for days. Hunger makes people do these things. For Arjuna, it was just a target; for you it was love and beauty; for them it is food."
Suyodhana was silent for a long time. He finally stood up as the Nishada family fell asleep and the fire died down. Aswathama stood up too. They had to find their way back. With Aswathama beside him, Suyodhana did not feel the uneasiness that had affected him earlier. Moonlight dappled the forest floor, shining through the gaps in the forest canopy. As the two boys competed to step on the moonlit patches on their way home, Suyodhana said, "The condition of these tribes in our kingdom is so sad. It is a shame that so many people have nothing to eat. The way the Untouchables live, is pathetic. Why is there so much injustice in the world? Why does Uncle Bhishma do nothing about it? I hate the stupid taboos and caste rules."
"Suyodhana, does poverty knock at the door and ask for your caste before entering your home? Can you imagine how poor we were, before my father got this job? I had never seen milk in my lif
e before we came here. Once, my friends tricked me by giving me batter to drink. I drank it thinking that was what milk tasted like. True, the condition of the lower castes is bad, but there is great poverty in every caste. A few people have wealth, power and privilege. The majority suffers."
"I hate it all."
"So change it my friend. After all, one day you are going to be King. I hope you retain the same fervour then. Power corrupts even the most principled."
"I will change the entire system when I become King. I will... hey who is that? Do you see?"
A lone figure was walking towards them. The boys quickly hid behind a tree. Clouds had covered the moon and it was too dark to see the face of the person approaching. As he neared them, the two boys jumped out with their swords drawn and cried, "Halt!"
In a trice, the other had drawn his sword as well. At that moment, the moon broke free from the grip of the clouds. "Hey! Aren't you that charioteer's son?" Suyodhana was surprised to find him there.
