by Unknown
Bhishma paused as everyone laughed. His patrician face broke into a smile. "My first piece of advice is that Graduation Day should not mean the end of your learning. Learning is a continuous process and your training has merely prepared you for that never-ending journey. Learn from everyone, everywhere, and everything. Use every moment to do so. That is the only legacy we leave behind when the Great God of Time, calls us back to his abode. My second piece of advice is, when you are in positions of power, the trappings of power are many and may often hinder you in taking the right decision. When your mind knows not what to do, here is a mantra for differentiating between right and wrong: any decision you take will affect some people favourably and others unfavourably. The right decision is always based on the greatest common good and not in favour of one particular group."
Bhishma paused and looked at Dhaumya. The Brahmin stared back coldly at the Grand Regent. "I wish you all success." Bhishma said to the young faces looking up at him, suddenly feeling his own youth returning, ignited by their burning enthusiasm. Bhishma dramatically drew his sword and raised it high. "Sons of the Kuru race, make our country proud. Show the world what fine men are capable of. Your fellow citizens await you in the arena outside. Welcome to the future!"
Bhishma's rich, deep voice boomed over the assembly and electrified the sabha. The sounds of conches, drums, horns and bugles sounded in joyous cacophony. The King stood and the guards threw open the huge doors of the sabha. The young warriors rushed into the sun.
***
On either side of the Royal highway, thronging crowds cheered enthusiastically as noble men and women, Princes and dignitaries, in glittering chariots, or on armoured elephants and fine horses, rushed towards the arena. As the procession entered the huge stadium, the multitude rose up in waves, like a giant monster waking from slumber. The ear-splitting sounds of drums, conches and whistles reverberated in the air as the dignitaries took their seats. The Princes rode into the arena, waving to the crowd. The Grand Ceremony had begun.
In the stands reserved for the Untouchables and lower castes, among the 20,000 strong crowd, a dark youth sat impassively, without even blinking. The wildly dancing young men around him were annoyed at the way he sat like a stone amidst their revelry. His right hand lay hidden in the folds of his dhoti. The physical pain when he had cut off his thumb at his Guru's command had long gone, but the wound in his mind refused to heal. The thumb still had a ghost presence in his hand and Ekalavya felt the pain anew whenever he let his mind dwell on it.
Outside the majestic entrance to the arena, another young man sat among the beggars and petty vendors, waiting for a chance to enter. It would have been easy to walk into the gallery but he needed to carry his weapons in and that created a problem. The security arrangements were thorough. The guards were confiscating any weapons carried by the spectators. Karna knew this was his final chance. He had to get into the arena with his bow and quiver of arrows at any cost. Jara sat contentedly with Dharma, watching the crowds. As a beggar, he was not allowed inside. But he had no complaints. Life was as good in the street as it was inside the arena, where men would compete for glory and prepare for the wars they would fight in the future. Every time a cheer rose from within, Karna tensed. Jara patted him, telling him to trust in God. He would not let him down. After a while, the beggar's constant implorations irritated Karna's already tense mind and he snapped at Jara to keep quiet. Jara smiled at the ambitious young man, but did not forget to place a consoling hand on Karna's shoulder.
Inside the arena, the disciples of Guru Drona held the galleries captivated by their spectacular display of equestrian and martial skills. As each Prince performed, the spectators cheered enthusiastically, while the Guru sat haughtily in his seat, indifferent to the wonder of the crowd. What else did they expect from disciples of Drona? He waited for Bhima to take on Suyodhana, and then the mesmerizing display of archery he was sure Arjuna would put up.
Near Drona, Aswathama sat in despair. His father had prohibited him from bringing along his bow and arrows. When Aswathama had pleaded with his father to allow him to participate in the Grand Ceremony, Drona had shouted that the ceremony was only for the Princes of Hastinapura. Aswathama had retorted that the Guru was choking his own son's talent, but Drona had not given-in. Aswathama had acidly remarked that his father was afraid Arjuna would lose to him. The remark angered Drona, carrying as it did the weight of truth, and he slapped his son. Aswathama left the room disheartened, leaving Drona feeling guilty over what he had done. He kept an eye on his son now and was secretly happy he was sitting near him instead of keeping Suyodhana company.
***
Karna got his chance when the duel between Suyodhana and Bhima began. With the guards busy cheering for one Prince or the other, Karna quietly sneaked into the arena. The stadium was packed to capacity but a villager moved a little to allow Karna to sit down. He looked at Karna's bow and frowned. Karna ignored the stares around him and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible as he watched the duel between the two Princes.
Bhima towered over Suyodhana by a foot. He was all bulk and muscle and the heavy mace looked like a mere stick in his huge hands. He stood with his legs spread apart in combat position, wielding his mace with ease, taunting Suyodhana and trying to make him angry. Dhaumya was leading a group of Brahmins in cheering for Bhima. The majority of the common people were familiar with the Crown Prince, as he often visited their dwellings and was seen on the streets. They wanted their Prince to win. However, given the disparity in the size of the combatants, there was an uneasy silence. The gallery held more people from the villages and countryside than the city itself, and for them, Bhima was the hero and Suyodhana the arrogant Prince. That was what the bards kept singing about in their villages and they had no reason to disbelieve it. They were too naive to know that the bards sang in praise of anyone who paid them well. The Truth was both malleable and for sale.
Suyodhana scanned the seats of the dignitaries to find those lovely eyes amongst them. When he saw her, his heart leapt with joy. He raised his mace to her. Subhadra stood up from her seat and waved. When the first blow came from Bhima, Suyodhana realized this was not a demonstration duel. Death danced in Bhima's mace, following Suyodhana's every step. The big Pandava attacked Suyodhana like a mad elephant and the cheering from the nobles grew louder. The poorer sections of the gallery maintained an uneasy silence initially but soon began cheering for Bhima, imitating their social superiors; sure, the Crown Prince would fall. Suyodhana was fighting a losing battle. He felt alone, with the whole world willing his defeat.
Bhima kept attacking with murderous intent. None of the elders interfered to stop it. Everyone anticipated Suyodhana's defeat. Dhaumya's group of Brahmins were delirious with joy. At any moment, Suyodhana would fall and his claim to the throne of Hastinapura would be weakened after such a public defeat, even if he escaped alive. The path of the darling of the conservatives; Yudhishtra, was opening up rapidly. The nobles too, waited for the inevitable fall of the Crown Prince. However, Suyodhana refused to give up. With grit and determination, he fought back. Imperceptibly, the tide began shifting against the Pandava. Suyodhana remembered the advice of his mentor Balarama, about fighting for a bigger cause than individual ego, and his blows started getting deadlier.
Defying the wishes of the holy men, the son of a blind man fought with passion against a man of superior strength and divine lineage. The turn of events was more than the group of Brahmins, who had branded the self-willed Suyodhana as evil incarnate, could digest. They looked at Krishna for solace but there was only the usual smile on the Yadava's handsome face. The cheering began to die down amongst the nobility and the Brahmins. But, from the gallery where the common people sat, the noise picked up and the cheering for Suyodhana soon became deafening. The Priests could not believe their eyes. All their efforts to plant stories about the Crown Prince over the years, was going to waste. They had to do something before the villain became a hero of the masses.
>
Drona sat watching the scene in horror. He could feel the accusing eyes of Kunti boring into his back. He had failed in his promise.
"Stop it somehow," Dhaumya hissed into Drona's ear.
The Guru hesitated a moment, looking towards Krishna for guidance. Then he stood up and walked towards the ring, commanding the duel to stop. Suyodhana ignored the Guru and continued to press his advantage. "Bhima, throw away your mace!" Drona shouted.
The giant Pandava blinked uncomprehendingly at first. When the command finally dawned on him, he flung away his mace and stood unarmed in front of his angry opponent. Suyodhana's mace stopped a few inches in front of Bhima's skull. Drona had assessed Suyodhana's character correctly. He knew the Crown Prince would never hit a disarmed opponent. The nobles heaved a sigh of relief. Drona chided the Prince for forgetting this was just a friendly duel and not a battlefield. Suyodhana remained silent. He knew it was useless to defend himself. He just kept staring at his Guru, his head held high, until Drona exhausted himself. The entire gallery watched as Bhima went towards his grim faced mother, while Suyodhana walked away, alone.
"Disgusting!" A voice from the Untouchables stand pierced the air. Every eye turned towards Ekalavya. The unthinkable was happening - an Untouchable was airing his opinion aloud regarding a Guru. There were protests from the Brahmins stand and many shouted to the King and the Grand Regent to catch the scoundrel and teach him a lesson for his impudence. Bhishma's face was stony and Dhritarashtra sat immobile in his seat. Kripa's mocking laughter, following the Nishada's comment, did not make things easier for the nobles and Priests. Something significant had to be done; or else, things would spin out of their control.
"Arjuna!" Kunti cried out. The Priests took their cue and began chanting the middle Pandava's name. Suddenly, hope lit their faces. If anybody could change this situation, it was the great archer.
Drona stood up to announce his favourite student. "Citizens of Hastinapura, what you have seen thus far is nothing compared to what you are about to see." Drona paused for effect, looking around. In a thundering voice he announced, "Behold! The greatest archer in the world, ARJUNAA..."
A golden chariot, drawn by the finest horses, entered the stadium and drove around it at great speed. In it, Arjuna stood like a God. He looked so handsome and noble in his expensive silken clothing and glittering jewels, that many young women gazed at him with lust and love. As he sped around below the stand of dignitaries, he shot a number of arrows with great dexterity, each landing at the feet of a nobleman, as an offering. It was the archer's salute, an impossibly impressive feat. He shot an arrow carrying a garland towards the flag of Hastinapura. The arrow whisked past, garlanding the fluttering flag. The crowd rose in thunderous applause. Then Arjuna shot at the targets placed at various distances, with grace and poise. The crowd was enraptured. They had forgotten the duel between Suyodhana and Bhima. Arjuna had saved the day for the nobles.
The proud Guru turned to Kunti. "Devi, I have kept my promise." Before Kunti could express her gratitude, an arrow fell at Drona's feet. Surprised, the Guru looked at his favourite student but the chariot with Arjuna was no longer moving. Another young man stood before the still chariot with drawn bowstring. With surprising quickness of aim, he shot arrow upon arrow, performing the difficult archer's salute. The arrows fell at the feet of the nobles. With an ease and grace that bordered on arrogance, the young man effortlessly mimicked Arjuna's feat.
Arjuna jumped down from his chariot, stung by the challenge, and began shooting at the most distant targets. Unfortunately, for the noble Prince, his challenger began hitting each target before Arjuna could even place his arrow on his bowstring. The mesmerized crowd began cheering the unknown archer. The contrast between the two contestants could not have been starker. Arjuna stood in the magnificent costume of the aristocratic Kshatriya, with glistening gold jewellery and diamond studded headgear, holding his gold-plated bow. He looked like a God just descended from the heavens. His challenger stood in his tattered clothes, bareheaded and barefooted, as if he had just come off the street; a poor bastard of low caste. He could have been any one of the faces in the gallery - an insignificant and irrelevant common man.
Panic gripped the aristocrats once again. Kunti felt faint. The nobles were angered by such a brazen display by a commoner. They turned on the hapless astrologer who had fixed this particular date as auspicious for the Grand Ceremony. The stars seemed to be conspiring against the Princes. Drona walked into the middle once again. He saw Arjuna's hands were shaking and he was making mistakes in his panic. The silken clothes of the greatest archer in the world were soaked with sweat, whereas his challenger stood poised and calm, shooting arrows in an endless flow.
"Stop!" shouted Drona. Both young men dropped their arms. Turning towards him, they bowed. Drona asked the ill-clad young man in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "This ceremony is for Princes. May I know which kingdom your father rules?"
The loud laughter from the stands resounded like thunder in the young warrior's ears. Arjuna breathed a sigh of relief. Before the stranger could answer, an old man came running onto the ground shouting in joy, "Karna! My son! You have come back..." Athiratha rushed to hug the son he had not seen for years, but stopped short when he saw the humiliation on Karna's face. With pain, the old charioteer saw that Karna was ashamed of his father. He wished his son would raise his head and look at him. He prayed that his son would run to him as he had as a little boy. But Karna stood with his eyes fixed to the ground. Like a chastised dog, the old man walked back into the crowd and disappeared.
"A Suta!" Drona laughed aloud.
The stands shook with the laughter of the aristocrats. The smile returned to Arjuna's handsome face as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
Dhaumya smiled at last. This was his domain. He walked into the ground and said clearly, "You low caste filth, why don't you go and clean the stables?" He looked at the stands and joined in the laughter that followed. "Son of a charioteer..." Dhaumya stared at Karna as recognition dawned on him. "Son of Athiratha... You are the man all of India has been hunting for over the past few days. Ha ha ha, the long arm of dharma has finally caught up with you, Suta. You think you can escape after insulting Guru Parashurama? You are finished."
A murmur of recognition went through the crowd. Prince Shakuni, sitting amongst the dignitaries, cursed himself. The opportunity to bring the Southern Confederate and Hastinapura to war had been lost. Blast that incompetent Durjaya. 'Why do I waste my money on that idiot?' he thought bitterly. Now the Suta would be handed over to the Confederate and the relationship between the two powerful forces would return to the status quo.
Karna knew his story had ended when his father came running towards him. 'Why did he have to do that? I would have gone to him after the event, after the world understood I am a better archer than Arjuna. Now I stand insulted before all because of my foolish father. Little does he know he has signed my death warrant."
A strong hand grasped Karna's wrist. He looked up. It was Crown Prince, Suyodhana. He smiled at the son of the charioteer, and then took his sword from its sheath and raised it to the sky. In a calm and clear voice, he spoke to the crowd. "Are we not ashamed to ask the caste of a warrior? Do we have the tradition of seeking the origin of rivers or brave men? Why should it matter if Karna's father is a charioteer? Or is Prince Arjuna afraid to lose to one better than he?" Suyodhana turned to his cousin. "Arjuna, if you are a man and a warrior, accept the challenge and beat the Suta instead of hiding behind these stupid beliefs."
Drona stopped Suyodhana. "Enough of your arrogance, Prince! You have crossed the bounds of propriety. I am ashamed to call you my disciple."
Suyodhana ignored Drona and continued to stare at Arjuna. In the gallery, Ekalavya held his breath. Arjuna turned helplessly towards Dhaumya, who looked confused. Arjuna then looked at his friend, Krishna, and found the courage to answer his cousin. "Suyodhana, I will not fight a low caste Suta. I am a Prince of Hastinapura," he decl
ared haughtily.
"If you are a Prince, you will fight a King now," retorted Suyodhana. He shouted to the crowd, "My countrymen, you are about to witness something unique." Suyodhana turned towards the Grand Regent and the King. "Your Excellency, Your Highness, with your gracious permission..." Suyodhana addressed the group of Brahmins saying, "What I am about to do is in the exalted traditions of the Vedas. I wish to call for a real Brahmin, one who understands the scriptures as they were written."
The entire crowd of Priests stood up and began shouting at the Crown Prince. Kripa ran towards the beleaguered Prince, laughing. Drona could not believe his eyes when his son Aswathama followed Kripa. Karna found himself crushed in Kripa's bear hug. Aswathama smiled at Suyodhana and stood beside him, his strong arms crossed over his broad chest. Dhaumya begged the Grand Regent to stop Suyodhana from insulting the Holy Scriptures and holy men, but Bhishma's face remained expressionless. A nervous Vidhura attempted to pacify the agitated Brahmins, but he was ignored. Shakuni rubbed his palms together in excitement. Things were turning out much better than he had expected. If he played his cards right, he could develop this into something much bigger and more violent than he had hoped. He looked at the holy men, vehemently trying to protect their selfish interests by denying even basic dignity to the majority of the people, and smiled...
