AJAYA I -- Roll of the Dice

by Unknown

  10 NAGAS

  ONE DAY, EKALAVYA'S HUNTING HAD taken him deep into the forest to an area he had never ventured before. A dull moon glowed over the forest canopy and made leafy mosaic patterns on the ground. As he reached a mountain stream, Ekalavya heard a low whistle. He was instantly alert. It sounded suspiciously like an alarm or a signal. He hid behind a tree and listened, but nothing moved. Ekalavya waited anxiously. Though he could detect no movement, all his instincts signalled danger. He sensed a presence nearby. Something or somebody evil was watching him. He could feel it in every nerve. He waited for whoever was hiding in the deep shadows to make the first move but not a leaf stirred.

  'Perhaps I am unnecessarily jumpy,' thought Ekalavya, and decided to move from his hiding place. But his body did not react as quickly as his instincts. Taking two steps forward, he found himself in a trap, hanging upside down ten feet from the ground. As he tried to free his legs, he saw scores of men surround him with flaming torches.

  A dark middle-aged man approached and peered into his eyes. The man had a pockmarked face and an ugly scar on his forehead. He had only one eye and walked with a limp. "Welcome to the world of the Nagas," he said with a smile that showed a huge gap in his pointed front teeth, which looked like fangs. The long thin face and the glassy left eye gave him the appearance of a serpent. "Cut him down," the man commanded.

  Ekalavya shuddered. This was the end; he thought and braced himself to be pierced with a sword. One of the men cut the ropes that held him upside down and Ekalavya fell on his face. He heard laughter as he tried to get up. Pain seared through his body. There was blood on his face. Strong hands lifted him. When he tried to writhe free, they merely laughed. Torches flickered and shadows danced around them, making grotesque patterns in the small clearing. The men walked to a stream and threw Ekalavya in. The water felt icy cold on his burning skin. When they pulled him out, he gave up the struggle and walked on between his captors up a steep hill. One of the men cleared the undergrowth with a sharp scythe while the rest followed him in single file.

  No one spoke. The silence was getting on Ekalavya's nerves. "Who are you?" he finally gathered the courage to ask.

  "The King of Hastinapura," replied the one-eyed leader. His companions laughed uproariously. "Well, I am only half-blind, so I am only half a King." Despite his fear, Ekalavya found himself smiling in amusement. "Son, I am the dreaded Kaliya. You may have heard stories about me. I was defeated by Krishna. Many sing about his valour in defeating a thousand-hooded snake. I am that snake."

  They kept walking until Ekalavya saw a clearing ahead. His heart leapt when he saw Takshaka, with a dozen warriors in fierce Naga costume standing around him. An old man sat close to the fire. There were many thatched huts around. Women sat in a group, talking animatedly, some rocking babies. Infants cried and children ran around screaming and shouting. Some young men were singing and dancing, trying to impress the young girls who sat in another group. Other men were brewing hooch and roasting meat. It did not look like the dreaded rebel camp of Takshaka.

  Takshaka stood up when he saw the group approach. Kaliya bowed. Ekalavya stood still, undecided whether to bow to Takshaka or not. Finally, he bowed and a smile flickered on the handsome face of the Naga leader. "Oh Shankara! Whom do we have here? Ekalavya, welcome to the humble abode of the Nagas."

  The old man near the fire looked up at Ekalavya and then quickly looked away again, shaking his head. Takshaka smiled and stepped forward to hug Ekalavya, who stood stiffly.

  "Why have you brought me here?" Ekalavya's tone betrayed more irritation than fear.

  "Because this is where you belong. Welcome home, Ekalavya." Takshaka's smile broadened into a grin.

  A few of the children found the newcomer more interesting than their games and stood around him in open curiosity. A few brave ones even managed to pinch Ekalavya and giggle at his embarrassment and irritation.

  "So, was he difficult to catch, Kaliya? You have been trailing him for how many days... fifteen... twenty?"

  Kaliya stared at Ekalavya. "It has been more than a month, Takshaka. He is a natural warrior, always alert. It was difficult for us to remain hidden. He nearly found us a couple of times. His marksmanship is impressive and his perception of his surroundings good. He can be trained to become a great warrior." The old man sitting near the fire looked up in mild curiosity.

  "Can someone tell me why I have been dragged to this place?" Ekalavya was close to losing his temper but the sharpness of his tone did not have any impact on the group. A few snickered and somebody shoved the Nishada from behind.

  "All in good time, comrade, all in its own time! Have patience. You are here for a purpose. I have great plans for you. I have seen your skill with the bow. Moreover, you are one of us. We are fighting for a great cause. Strong, young men like you will take the revolution forward." Takshaka caught the eye of the old man and abruptly stopped his rhetoric. "Aswasena!" he called. A young man stepped forward and bowed. "Ekalavya, this is Aswasena. He will take care of your needs for now and maybe in future too."

  Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion at the periphery of the village. Naga warriors were dragging in a group of people bound with ropes. The entire village thronged around to witness the spectacle. Except for one or two, who looked a little better off, the captives belonged to the striving lower middle class. They were unimaginative, petty, hardworking, honest city folk - the rulers of boredom and monotony, tyrants in their humble homes but meek and submissive outside. There was a look of pure terror in their eyes. The villagers were shoving them, the women competing with each other to pull the hair of their unfortunate counterparts, while the children gleefully punched the captives. Mangy dogs ran with the crowd, barking, snapping and adding to the cacophony. Someone grabbed a baby from the arms of a captured woman and for some time the infant was tossed around by the mob. The agonized screams of the terrified mother drove the crowd into frenzy.

  Takshaka and Aswasena ran towards the mob. As Ekalavya was about to follow, the old man near the fire caught him by the wrist. "Escape now! This is a dangerous place. That man is mad and he has made our people insane. If you do not get out now, you will never be able to do so in future. Get out and run before you too, get sucked into this."

  Ekalavya looked in surprise at the old man. He had lost most of his teeth and possessed a few tufts of white hair on his head. He looked frail but it was not the weakness of age but weariness with life. "Sir, who are you? Why do you want to stop me from joining Takshaka?" Ekalavya asked.

  "Son, do not play with fire. Leave before hatred poisons your mind and rage makes you blind. The world is not such a bad place as Takshaka makes it out to be. Neither is it going to be heaven when he becomes King. You are young. Do not get swayed by peddlers of impossible dreams. Get out now!"

  "Who are you, Sir?" Ekalavya asked again but the old man remained silent.

  The mob had been brought under control and the prisoners moved to the centre of the village. Takshaka sat on a makeshift platform made of bamboo while the captives stood tied together in a huddle a few feet away. It looked like some sort of trial. The villagers sat on their haunches all around. A few excited ones continued to shout abuse. Aswasena, the young Naga who was to be Ekalavya's guide, came running towards him through the crowd.

  Once again the old man hissed, "Don't you have any sense, you fool? Run now! Run or your life will never be the same again."

  Ekalavya did not know what to do. A part of his mind told him to follow the advice of the old man, but minute by minute, curiosity was getting the better of sense.

  Aswasena stopped near Ekalavya, panting with exertion and excitement. "Come, the leader wishes you to witness the trial of the traitors."

  Ekalavya hesitated for a moment, looking at the old man who sat shaking his head in despair, and decided to ignore him. Perhaps the man was insane, thought the Nishada, as he followed the young Naga to witness the trial. "Who is that old man, Aswasena?" he asked his c
ompanion.

  "Oh, do not mind him. He is mad. He was once the King of the Nagas. His name is Vasuki. He was the fool who frittered away our inheritance and lost our kingdom. He keeps rambling on about peace and such. Our leader has been generous in sparing his life. He holds the mad Vasuki up as an example of what Nagas will become if we are not willing to fight for the cause. The man is a joke. Do not take his ramblings seriously."

  They had reached the place where the trial was to be held. Takshaka motioned Ekalavya to take a seat on the wooden log where some men were already sitting. They moved a little to allow Ekalavya to take his place. Kaliya stood with his naked sword resting on his right shoulder, smiling. Ekalavya shuddered at the look of glee in the Naga's eyes.

  A middle-aged man stepped out of the mob and suddenly a hush fell. He bowed to Takshaka and the group of men sitting to Ekalavya's right. "Honourable People's Court, we have here the traitors who betrayed our great cause. We are here to decide their punishment. On the far right, we have the man who has done the greatest harm to our cause. Honourable Court, behold Shivarama Charana, the renegade Brahmin of Suryanagara village, a suburb of Hastinapura."

  An old man was shoved forward. Tall and lean, he held his head high with pride. There was no look of fear in his eyes as he gazed at Takshaka with contempt.

  "Bow to the People's Court," barked one of the guards. When the old man showed no inclination to do so, the guard hit him with the hilt of his sword. The man still stood, unflinching, not even bothering to wipe the blood flowing from his forehead.

  "This man, instead of following his caste profession, led an immoral life till he was sixty. He inherited huge tracts of farmland, which his ancestors had cheated from the Nagas a few generations before. He has always been cruel to his workers, abusing them. His labourers escaped from his tyranny and formed our first band of soldiers under our honourable leader, Nahusha. This crooked man understood we were winning so for the last fifteen years he has acted as though he is the most benevolent man on earth. He has conspired with the evil Balarama of the Yadava clan to start training centres for various crafts in his village. He is trying to take the people away from the cause by enticing them into crafts and trade. The government has made substantial grants to him, which further proves the conspiracy.

  "Another strange fact, yet not so strange if we understand the true nature of our enemies, is that the man gives equal importance to different men. The list of people involved in undermining the people's war is truly astounding. It includes Balarama, the man who acts like a saint; Bhishma, the arrogant Kuru Regent; the crazy Brahmin, Kripa; the atheist, Carvaka; renegade Nagas, and so on. The strange list is long. Our prisoner has done all this despite stiff opposition from his caste members. It proves he has no principles or ethics. It is also a lesson to us. Our enemies will stoop to any level and form unlikely alliances to defeat the cause of the common people."

  It took a moment for Ekalavya to register that the man had stopped speaking. He was stunned by the convoluted logic of the argument. Yet there was no trace of surprise around him. The old Brahmin still stood with his head held high, contempt written across his craggy face. The only other prosperous-looking man among the captives began sobbing, his plump body shaking with agitation. Other men and women began to wail, though Ekalavya was certain they had not understood the longwinded speech. For that matter, he doubted whether many of the rebels understood what the war was about.

  Takshaka rose from his seat and began pacing. People looked at him expectantly. The murmuring soon rose to a crescendo but just before it turned unruly, Takshaka raised his hands and the crowd went silent. "This man is an enemy of our people. One by one, we will capture and eliminate all such enemies. Our war is the people's war, against discrimination in the name of religion, wealth, race, language, skin colour or caste. You may think that this old man gave education to a few poor people; gave some money to set up clinics where they distributed medicines; and started schools that taught a few to make petty crafts; and so he is a good man. That is because you do not understand the true nature of things.

  "Such enemies undermine our cause. The education he provided talks about varna and jati; he wants to instil such ideas into the minds of our people so they will always be slaves to men like him. He started hospitals so his labourers would be healthy and work hard to make money for him. He started training centres to have free workers who would fill his coffers by selling to fat merchants. Who bought their first produce? The fat merchant who is standing there weeping. Who bought goods from him? Balarama. Then he sold them to foreigners for more money. Brahmins have prohibited sea travel. Yet these men have revived it. They are willing to break the strictest taboos for money. Look at what Balarama is doing. He is building a golden city near the sea. He and his people will live in ivory towers while people like us, the tillers of the soil and the sons of the forest, will languish in poverty. When they eat sweet dishes from silver plates, we will be eating the dry roots of trees. When they dress in silks, our women will have only tatters to cover their shame. They will have opulent palaces and soft beds to sleep in and we will have stinking caves and hard rocks upon which to rest our tired heads."

  Takshaka paused to enjoy the impact he was making on the people around him. They were getting more and more agitated. He continued. "But who made them rich? Who made those palaces and gardens, the chariots, the walkways and broad roads, the exquisitely carved temples? People like us. Our sweat and blood made the luxuries they enjoy. Remember, every activity you do strengthens the hands of our enemies. They will use every coin you add to their coffers to exploit you. My fellow Nagas, Vanaras, Yakshas, Kinnaras, Gandharvas and Asuras - the war has just begun!"

  Ekalavya could sense the crowd growing angry as Takshaka spoke. Finally, he paused dramatically and raised his voice to shout, "Should we allow these bastards to keep us as slaves?"

  "Noooooo..." the crowd answered in one voice.

  "Should our sisters go naked; our babies go hungry and our people become homeless, while these exploiters, these rich swine, wallow in luxury?"

  "Noooo..."

  "What should we do with these traitors?" Takshaka's voice dipped, it was as soft as silk. But the next moment he yelled, "Comrades, what should we do with these traitors now?"

  "Kill them! Kill them!" the crowd roared back. The chant of 'Kill them! Kill them!' rose to a crescendo.

  Takshaka turned to the accused. "The People's Court has judged and spoken. Their will shall be done."

  The wailing that rose from the hapless men and women could not dampen the frenzy of the crowd. They shoved the old Brahmin to his knees. Kaliya lifted his sword while the man mumbled some prayers. In one clean sweep, Kaliya severed the old man's head and blood spurted from the headless body. The severed head bounced onto the ground as if still alive and came to rest near Ekalavya's feet. He recoiled in horror. The lifeless eyes of the old man stared at the Nishada. Those eyes would haunt him for a long time. The man's body jerked spasmodically until someone stamped on it.

  "Victory to the people's revolution," cried Kaliya.

  A thousand voices answered. One by one, the jeering crowd pushed each captive forward and Kaliya and his band of soldiers cut them down mercilessly. Finally, the fat merchant was the only one left. Kaliya pushed him forward for execution. He begged for mercy, offering everything he owned to Takshaka, in exchange for his life. Takshaka stopped the merchant's execution at the last moment and the crowd fell silent. "Comrades, he is offering the wealth he has cheated from our poor. Should we spare him and take his wealth?"

  "Nooo..." yelled the crowd. But there was a hint of doubt in their voices.

  A lone voice cried out, "Yes!" Every head turned to see who had spoken.

  "Yes?" Takshaka asked. "Yes? Who wants that tainted money? Who said yes? Come forward. I want to congratulate the man."

  The crowd went silent with fear. No one moved. Kaliya stood confused as murmurs bubbled from the mob like a cauldron. Then Takshaka sp
oke. "Our war needs weapons, men and supplies. Who will provide these? The ones who have exploited our people for their trade, who else? These traders and businessmen will fund our war against their own people. We will use their money to fight. We will hold this rascal captive for ransom. We will use and bleed him and then the People's Court will execute its judgement, when he becomes a pauper like us. Take him away. The Court is dismissed."

  Takshaka jumped down from the platform. Kaliya's men dragged away the kicking and screaming merchant and locked him inside a hut. In passing, Takshaka patted Ekalavya on the shoulder and smiled but Ekalavya could not smile back. The violence had shocked him. His romantic hero Takshaka was dead and a devil had risen in his place.

  As Ekalavya was about to follow the Naga leader, a frail voice called out to him. He turned to find the old Naga King, Vasuki, standing a few feet away, holding onto a staff to support his frail body. "Son, I hope you have learnt your lesson. Escape! This place will make you into a demon. Escape now. Listen to an old man's advice."

  A boy, who was barely twelve, kicked the staff out of Vasuki's hands and the old man stumbled and fell. The boy ran away laughing. Ekalavya helped the frail man up and handed the staff to him again. "Escape," the man mumbled again.