by Unknown
Someone cried out, "Hey Ekalavya! What are you doing with that mad man? Come, the leader is asking for you."
'Mad man! He seems to be the only sane one in the whole village,' thought Ekalavya. He hesitated a moment. The person who had called him was talking to someone else and not looking at him. Ekalavya looked around, took a deep breath and ran.
"Hey you..." someone yelled. Ekalavya could hear the villagers running in pursuit. He ran in the opposite direction to Takshaka's camp, crashing into the jungle, rolling on the ground, getting up, stumbling on rocks, and getting up again. He ran for dear life as arrows zinged perilously close and plunged into the tree trunks with sickening thuds. He could hear the barking of dogs as they closed in on him. Ekalavya ran as fast as he could, ignoring the blood flowing from his many cuts and the weakness in his legs, which trembled with fear. He ran over a ridge and suddenly the terrain sloped downwards. Only a few feet separated him from the Ganga. The river rushed through a ravine, frothing and lashing at the rocks that tried to restrain it. Ekalavya had only a few seconds to choose. Behind him lay sure death with the Naga warriors closing in; while ahead lay some hope of living. The river looked dangerous in the pale moonlight with massive rocks that protruded everywhere like panthers waiting to pounce upon their prey. Ekalavya tried to gather the courage to jump into the waters a hundred feet below. Somewhere above the hills, thunder clapped.
As Ekalavya ran towards the edge of the cliff, two fierce warriors leapt from an overhanging tree and blocked his path. The sharp edges of their swords glistened in the moonlight as they advanced cautiously. Ekalavya dodged the first swipe of their swords but lost his balance and fell to the ground. An arrow swished past. It would have punctured his chest had he not fallen. Another arrow landed uncomfortably close to his shoulder. One of the Naga warriors thrust his sword towards Ekalavya's throat. The sharp tip missed by an inch and pierced the earth. It gave the Nishada time to roll a few feet, grab a stone and throw it at the face of his assailant. As the Naga warrior fell with a grunt of pain, an arrow nicked Ekalavya's left shoulder as it winged past. He scrambled up and ran towards the cliff, arrows flying around him. The sky was getting ever darker with the approaching thunderstorm. The roar of the river grew louder as flashes of lightning illuminated the jungle like day. Ekalavya could see more and more dark faces approaching.
The second Naga warrior attacked him from the rear. His sword found its mark as it pierced Ekalavya's thigh. Ekalavya went down with a cry. As he rolled over, he was shocked to find the Naga warrior jumping high in the air. He descended with surprising velocity, his sword pointing straight at Ekalavya's chest. It might have been survival instinct or pure luck but Ekalavya raised his injured leg and kicked the attacking Naga with all the strength born of desperation. The Naga had expected Ekalavya to roll and dodge but not to make an offensive attack in his injured condition. The kick caught him between the legs and propelled him over the cliff. The warrior disappeared into the abyss, his terrified scream fading away.
More arrows where falling around him and Ekalavya could hear the shouts of approaching Naga warriors above the roar of the river. He struggled up and limped to cover the few feet, ignoring the pain shooting from his thigh. He tried to leap but could not. The first Naga, who had recovered from the stone-throw, lunged to grab Ekalavya. For a precious second, the Naga and the Nishada hung over the cliff. As other Naga warriors approached, Ekalavya knew it was now or never. Pressing his injured leg against the face of the rock and screaming in pain and terror, he hurled himself into the embrace of the Ganga. The Naga followed, as he had not let go. Together they fell into the roaring waters of the river. Scores of angry Naga faces arrived a few seconds later to peer down at the flailing figures of the fugitive and his captor, hurtling down the cliff. Providence saved Ekalavya's life as he fell into the raging waters. His companion hit a protruding rock that killed him instantly. The Ganga accepted the son of the forest into her bosom.
***
It was raining heavily when the trembling soldiers informed Takshaka of Ekalavya's escape. The Naga leader received the news without emotion. A surprised Kaliya asked Takshaka why he was not concerned. He had been so insistent about tracking and bringing the boy to the rebel camp. Takshaka smiled enigmatically and said, "Ekalavya is still young and trusts the world too much. He will come back Kaliya, with greater anger, once he sees what kind of world he is living in."
Kaliya did not understand but shrugged his shoulders in resignation. Strategy was Takshaka's area. His duty was just to implement it. But he hoped the young man, whom he had come to like, had somehow survived the roaring river.
*
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11 IN THE SHADOWS
SHAKUNI STOOD FRETTING AT THE ENTRANCE of the Queen's chamber. He hated these meetings with his sister, Gandhari; though she was like his mother and had doted upon him since infancy. He vividly remembered their journey from the stark mountains of Gandhara to the sweltering plains of Hastinapura. For most of the way, Bhishma, Grand Regent of the Kurus, had carried him across his saddle while his exquisitely beautiful sister rode silently behind. Bhishma had tried to make him laugh by telling him stories about short-tempered ascetics and funny celestial creatures. He had obliged the old man with a few unaffected laughs. Even at the age of five, deceit came naturally to him and not many saw past his smile.
Bhishma had doted upon him, repentant about what he had done to Gandhara and its people. Shakuni had won the affection of the gruff old patriarch with his sweet ways and skill at arms. The old man had trained the young Gandhara Prince himself. Shakuni was intelligent, skilled, and a quick learner. He had won the affections of many of the palace staff with his affable manners and propensity for small gifts. He could handle anyone, except his sister. It did not matter that she had chosen to be blind like her husband. She still saw through him, the silken band covering her eyes notwithstanding. She could strip his soul naked with just a tilt of her head.
A servant came out of the Queen's chamber, bowed to Shakuni, and informed him he could enter. As he stepped in, the fragrance of sandalwood seemed to suffocate him. The opulence of the room brought back all the ugly memories of his childhood. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and wondered for the umpteenth time why his sister had chosen voluntary blindness. Was it for spite or love? It had been a forced marriage, thrust upon a hapless Princess by a powerful man. 'Bhishma! One day, I will get back at you,' thought Shakuni. Far away to the West, the plains stretched as far as the eyes could see and then vanished into the misty outline of the distant hills. 'Beyond that lies my land,' mused Shakuni, saying a silent prayer.
"Sit, Shakuni."
Shakuni seated himself, unable to think of the right words. He wondered at the commanding presence his sister had and let out a sigh. She was the most powerful woman in the entire sub-continent and the real power behind the blind King. Even the Grand Regent rarely overturned her decisions. She was the only person who could talk back to the powerful old man without sounding rude. She was assertive in a quiet sort of way. She doted on her eldest son, Suyodhana. It was an open secret that she fought her own battles with her sister-in-law, Kunti, who had been plotting behind Gandhari's back to get her own son, Yudhishtra, installed as Crown Prince.
"I will come straight to the point, brother," Gandhari said quietly, as Shakuni grew more nervous. Whenever she addressed him as 'brother', he knew it meant trouble. "Stay away from my sons, Shakuni." Gandhari's blindfolded eyes turned towards her brother.
Shakuni stood up and walked towards a window. He did not wish to sit facing her bound eyes. He caressed the dice he always carried. They rubbed against each other and Gandhari flinched, hearing the unmistakable sound of bone hitting bone.
"I am just being a good uncle to them, sister," Shakuni said, still eyeing the western horizon. The sky was a pandemonium of colours as the sun set in a haze of dust. How cool and pleasant it would be in Gandhara, Shakuni thought wistfully. He wanted to
get the meeting over with. It was getting late for his prayers.
"Why don't you go back and take the Governor's post at Gandhara? The Grand Regent has reiterated the offer. You will be the de-facto King and have total autonomy. Why are you still hanging around here?"
Shakuni was silent for a long time. Then he turned and threw the dice forcefully onto a nearby table. They rolled and stopped with the six points upwards. A perfect twelve! Shakuni grunted with the satisfaction of a master.
"Throw away the dice. They will bring ruin!" Gandhari snapped, inclining her head towards the sound.
"You want me to throw away the dice? Have you forgotten, Gandhari? You know these are no ordinary dice. They were made from the thighbone of our slain father. Fortunately, our people bury the dead and do not burn them like logs, as do the uncivilized people of your adopted country. Our father's soul lives in these dice. They obey my command. See, I call 'Four!' and they fall in perfect fours. I call 'Eight' and there it is. Observe their magic. And you want me to throw them away? Are you afraid? Have you forgotten everything? Why, you used to tell me when I was young that this blasted country should be destroyed as they destroyed our beloved Gandhara."
"Shakuni, it was a long time ago. I was young and full of spite towards the people of Hastinapura. Now this is my country, my land and my people. My husband rules here and tomorrow my son, Suyodhana, will be King. Please go back and rule our ancestral land. Do not spoil my sons here."
"Spoil? Why would I spoil my own nephews? Do you not know that Kunti is planning to install Yudhishtra as Crown Prince? Where will your sons go then? Where will you and your blind husband go?"
"Kunti, ha! What can a poor widow do to me? Everyone knows her sons are not the real sons of Pandu. They do not have any claim to the throne. Pandu was impotent. She had those sons by other men. What claim do such bastard sons have on the throne of Hastinapura? Do not try your manipulations with me, brother. I will not fall for your low tricks."
Shakuni picked up the dice from the table and caressed them. "How innocent you are, sister. Why is Kunti so respectful to the Brahmins and Priests? Why does she lead their delegations to Bhishma and Vidhura? She is playing a dangerous game. She will pull the rug from beneath your feet before you know it. Why was Kripa fired from his job and the orthodox Drona assigned the position of Raj Guru? Have you seen how Drona fawns over the Pandavas? Do you not see Parashurama's hand pulling the strings and controlling events? What is Dhaumya doing here? Why are they so close to the cunning Yadava Prince, Krishna? How naive you are, my dear."
Gandhari remained silent. The hint of a smile played on her lips. When Shakuni finished speaking, she slowly stood up and moved close to him. "Look at me," she said. Shakuni reluctantly turned around to face her. He averted his gaze from her bound eyes and looked down. "I can deal with Kunti myself but do not complicate matters. Are you hatching one of your devious plots again? My son will be the ruler of India in his own right. I do not want any blemish on his reputation. Keep your schemes, intrigues and those blasted dice, which you claim to be made from our father's thigh, away from my sons. I do not care about the past. I am more concerned with my sons and my husband. This country has accepted me as its daughter-in-law. Go back to Gandhara today. Am I making myself clear, brother, or do you want me to repeat it?"
Shakuni did not say anything. He turned his back on his sister and faced the setting sun. Gandhari raised her voice and asked him again, "Will you assure me that you will leave for Gandhara today, Shakuni?"
"I will discuss it with Bhishma and let you know."
Gandhari snorted. "Bhishma... huh... I know what he will say. He dotes on you and lives in the delusion that he wronged you in your childhood. He will say you can stay on in Hastinapura for as long as you wish."
"Then I will not have a choice, sister. If the Grand Regent himself wishes it so..." Shakuni walked towards the door, a smile quirking the corners of his thin mouth.
"I warn you again, Shakuni. Stay away from my children, or else you will pay for it!" Gandhari cried out to his retreating form.
'Why just me, sister? I will make the whole of India pay for the wrongs done to Gandhara,' Shakuni muttered softly to himself as he walked out. In the corridor, he came face to face with the Prime Minister. "Aha, so Shudras may now enter the Queen's chamber? This country is progressing quickly," Shakuni mocked.
Vidhura simply stared at the Gandharan Prince and Shakuni finally averted his eyes. Vidhura did not wish to dignify Shakuni's remark with an answer. Shakuni walked away without looking back. Vidhura gazed after him for a few moments; his forehead furrowed with worry, and then decided to follow. The corridors were lit with torches that spewed black smoke, making the air hazy. Vidhura could see Shakuni walking at a brisk pace, his tall and wiry figure entering the circles of light and darkness in quick succession. He wore leather footwear that made no sound. Vidhura cursed his own choice of footwear, made of the traditional wood, which made a tremendous clatter as he walked along. He bent and quietly removed his slippers and then hurried down the corridor on his bare feet to catch up with Shakuni.
Shakuni gently tapped on Suyodhana's door and entered without waiting for permission. Vidhura moved to the door to listen. He prayed that no servant or guard would come along. It would have been awkward to explain why he was eavesdropping, not that anyone would ask for an explanation from the Prime Minister. Nevertheless, it would give another morsel to the gossipmongers to say what else could one expect from Vidhura.
***
Suyodhana rose as he saw his uncle enter his chamber. Sushasana and Sushala were sitting on the bed and they too stood up in respect. Shakuni pinched Sushala's rosy cheeks and commented that she was growing into a beauty like her mother. The young girl blushed and ran out of the room. She was startled to see Vidhura standing outside, but went away without uttering a word. Vidhura cursed his luck again.
"Hmm, I feel a sense of despondency in this room. What has happened to my nephews?" Shakuni asked quietly, sitting down in the cushioned chair near the bed.
"We are fed up with Bhima. One day I am going to murder him," spat out Suyodhana.
"What has happened? That fatso has a sharp tongue, a thick head and strong arms - a dangerous combination," Shakuni said, amused.
"Guru Drona insulted Suyodhana again today, calling him an idiot. We hate his classes. The Guru uses his tongue only to praise Arjuna or Bhima on their valour, Yudhishtra on his knowledge, and Nakula and Sahadeva for their intelligence. The rest of us are nitwits. We are fed up," Sushasana complained.
"Is it just because Drona called you idiots that you are sulking like women?" Shakuni mocked, knowing Suyodhana would flare up.
"Uncle, there are enough people around to call us names and mock at our blind parents without you joining them."
"I think you got licked by Bhima again, nephew." Shakuni twisted the knife another turn.
Suyodhana gritted his teeth. He kicked over a vase of flowers in frustration. It shattered into pieces on the marble floor. Shakuni laughed aloud. "Did he call you the 'son of the blind King'? Did he mock my sister and brother-in-law's helplessness?"
Suyodhana did not reply. Sushasana answered instead. "They do so all the time. Even Guru Drona. Whenever we forget some scriptures or make a mistake, he asks his favourite Pandavas to demonstrate their superior intellect. Then he says 'what more can be expected from the children of the blind?' It is cruel. He keeps saying that the only hope for our country lies in Yudhishtra becoming King."
"Nephews, has anyone told you that those who mock you so much are not your real cousins?"
Suyodhana turned to face his uncle, his eyes wide with surprise. "What do you mean, not our real cousins?" Sushasana too, came to stand close to Shakuni.
"They are bastards!" Shakuni burst into laughter. "Don't stare at me like fools. It is common knowledge that your Uncle Pandu was impotent. Your aunt took lovers to beget sons, at your uncle's insistence. Do you remember your Aunt Madri, who committed
sati on Pandu's pyre? Well, Pandu forced even her to beget children with other men, and Nakula and Sahadeva are those children. Yudhishtra is the child of some Brahmin; Arjuna of some petty Prince of the Indra clan; and Bhima is the son of a forest dweller. In other words, all your cousins are bastards."
Shakuni paused to see the impact he was making on the two boys. They looked shocked, as if hit by lightning but slowly a smile spread across Sushasana's face. Suyodhana shook his head, as if trying to deny what he had heard. "Suyodhana, it is even worse than you think. There are unconfirmed rumours that your aunt Kunti had an affair with a Prince of the Suryavansha clan in her teens. She gave birth to a son but abandoned the child, fearing scandal. Some say she killed the child after he was born. Others think he is growing up somewhere with foster parents. In fact, I am searching for the boy - he would be a couple of years older than you, if he survived."
"Uncle, Suyodhana is not hearing you," Sushasana cried. Grabbing his brother's shoulders, he screamed with joy. "Suyodhana, don't you see what this means? Yudhishtra has no claim on the throne of Hastinapura. He is just a bastard son, born out of wedlock; the son of a wayward woman."
