by Unknown
"Sleep well. We will speak tomorrow," Kunti said to the grateful Nishada woman as she left the room.
Bhima looked longingly at the table where the Untouchables were attacking the food like hungry hyenas. Sighing in frustration, he followed his mother out.
She was waiting for him outside. "Throw away those sweets you have taken."
"But mother..." Bhima sheepishly brought forth the hidden sweets.
"Fool! Don't you know they are laced with drugs? How will I ever drive some sense into your head?" Kunti grabbed the sweets from his hands and threw them out of a window.
***
The Nishada woman did not hear the argument between Kunti and her son. She held herself back until they left, then joined her sons in satiating her hunger. There was a faintly bitter taste to the food, but she ignored it. She had tasted worse, having often fed on stinking throwaways during her miserable life. With every bite, she thanked her benefactor, praying to God to give Kunti and her sons' long life and happiness. She did not hear the small click of the latch, locking her and her children into the luxurious room. The lucky Untouchable and her children continued eating, blissfully unaware of having been trapped in this heaven, while downstairs; their benefactors took an important decision regarding dharma.
***
"Brother, I feel it is wrong. They are innocent and..." Arjuna was trying to reason with his eldest brother.
Yudhishtra looked at his mother, who shook her head in despair. Bhima sat dreaming about food, not caring for the intense debate going on. He was a lucky man. He did not think too much and did whatever his mother or brothers commanded. The whole debate about dharma simply bored him. But Arjuna never gave into anything without an argument. The twins sat to one side, discussing women and wine. Bhima moved towards them, to listen to their far more interesting conversation.
"Arjuna, these Untouchables lead miserable lives. We are doing them a great good by allowing them to die for a worthy cause. They will thus be born as Brahmins in their next life." Yudhishtra tried to maintain his composure while convincing his obdurate brother.
"The youngest is barely thirteen. It is cruel to trap these innocent people like animals, with food as bait," Arjuna retorted.
"Son," Kunti finally said in a tired voice. "We were lucky to get early warning that Duryodhana has hatched a plan to burn us alive here. Had your Uncle Vidhura not warned us, imagine what could have happened! Every moment we remain here is dangerous. We acted on Vidhura's message and checked the walls - they are indeed made of lac and they will catch fire faster than a bundle of dry hay. I always thought Vidhura was against us, but this shows we cannot fathom God's deep and mysterious ways. It was His will that this mother and her five sons arrived to act as decoys for our 'death'. Besides, remember your Gurus teaching you about Apat dharma. Nothing is considered wrong if it is in self-preservation. Who are we to question His will? Dhaumya will be waiting for us at the ghat with a boat. If we do not act tonight, it may be too late. Tomorrow, Duryodhana's men are planning to torch this palace and roast us alive. But we will outsmart them and do it today."
Arjuna shook his head in disagreement and appealed to Yudhishtra, ignoring his mother's words. "Brother, if we are sure Suyodhana is behind this, let us fight him like Kshatriyas, and defeat him in the accepted manner."
Yudhishtra exchanged glances with his mother. After a long pause, he said in a soft voice, "We have to outwit that evil man and go into hiding until we gain some powerful friends. We cannot go to Hastinapura, as the Grand Regent is not pleased with us. We must do this Arjuna. We do not have a choice. Without six charred bodies as proof of our deaths, Duryodhana's spies will keep hunting us. Let the world think we are dead when they see the unrecognizable bodies of the Nishada woman and her five children. Think only of your duty and do not worry about the consequences. They will die for a great cause, Arjuna. Be proud to be the torchbearer of dharma."
"Brother," Sahadeva interrupted, "there will be five bodies but the youngest child is too small. It will give rise to suspicion."
"He is right," Kunti said, regretting not having thought through all the details. "Yudhishtra, how many guards are there?"
"Seven, mother."
"Order a feast for them inside the palace," Kunti said. "There will then be enough bodies to create confusion among the spies."
"That is disgusting! The guards were sent by the Grand Regent for our protection." Arjuna stood up abruptly.
"Arjuna," said Yudhishtra, his patience wearing thin, "what is their primary duty as guards? To protect us from danger. If a situation arises when our lives are under threat, is it not their dharma to protect us, even at the cost of their own lives? What is wrong or disgusting about them laying down their lives for us? They will just be doing their duty as per our scriptures; nothing is more sacred than dying while doing one's duty. Such people reach the paradise of Lord Vishnu. In fact, we are helping their souls leave this miserable world and reach Vaikunta."
"But..."
"Arjuna, enough! Do not talk like your cousin Duryodhana," Kunti also stood up, ending the argument.
Arjuna knew he was defeated. He was a mere warrior, whereas his eldest brother was a learned man. He never uttered a lie, and all the Brahmins hailed him as the epitome of virtue and righteousness. Arjuna left the room, confused about the whole concept of dharma. Maybe one day someone would explain things to him clearly, so he would not feel the pinch of his conscience in doing what his mother suggested. He could hear the gentle snoring of the Nishada woman from what had once been his chamber. Arjuna stood staring at the Ganga flowing in the distance, trying to ignore his thoughts about a poor mother and her five children who had trusted them. Arjuna struggled with the impossible tangle of right and wrong. His brother and mother's arguments made no sense to him. They only created immense sadness in his confused mind.
The sun slowly sank into the holy waters of the Ganga and the river blushed red like a coy bride at the touch of her partner. As darkness fell over Varanavata and mist enveloped the rushes along the banks of the holy river, a dark figure alighted from the small boat he had been rowing. He looked at the brightly lit palace of the Pandavas in the distance and felt a sense of pride. It looked solid. No one would imagine it to be built of lac. With this project executed, he could now retire. He wanted to leave Hastinapura and migrate to a city where money was respected above other things. Perhaps Heheya, on the West coast, he thought dreamily. He also needed to dump his ugly wife and get a younger one. All the money he had made swindling the Government and the public, had been buried in a secret place. Until now, he had lived the life of enforced penury, imitating the lives of his honest colleagues in Government service. He knew his reputation was not good, but he was careful not to leave behind any proof of his activities. In this way, he had weathered many inquiries conducted by the Prime Minister's men. 'In another week I will retire and lead a wonderful life in the company of lovely damsels, in a sea-facing mansion in Heheya,' Purochana thought.
The Prince of Gandhara was a strange man. He had sponsored the entire building of the palace of lac for the Pandavas. It helped that Purochana could then sell the teak wood the Government had supplied in the black-market, making a fortune. Initially, Purochana thought Shakuni had hatched the plan to finish off the Pandavas and was terrified of the consequences, were his involvement to become known. He had been furious when he learned Shakuni had leaked hints about the palace of lac to that painfully honest Prime Minister. Once Vidhura had worked out there was a conspiracy, he had informed the Pandavas to be vigilant. It took a great deal of money for the Gandhara Prince to pacify the angry bureaucrat and convince him to complete the last step of the operation.
Purochana reassured himself that it would be the last operation he would undertake for that bastard. Shakuni's plan made no sense to him. The foreigner wanted him to lock the palace gates from outside and burn down the palace. Purochana had indignantly retorted that he was no murderer. The Prince then insisted tha
t he open the gates at the right moment and allow the Pandavas to escape! This was not murder, just a prank, the foreigner assured him. Purochana was relieved. Once the deal was negotiated and settled, he began dreaming of his retirement. He could now live a life of luxury. Shakuni also offered him an additional incentive if he agreed to tell the Pandavas that the fire had been part of Suyodhana's conspiracy to get rid of them. Purochana readily agreed, sure, that the Pandavas would be grateful and even reward him for his loyalty.
Purochana planned to burn down the palace in the dead of the following night. For a day, he had to hide somewhere and observe the movements of the Pandavas. He was careful to keep to the shadows as he moved quietly towards the palace. The creepy silence that pervaded the place made him restless and jumpy. There was something sinister in the air. All his instincts screamed danger. He wanted to go back to the boat and row away but the thought of the huge incentive Shakuni had promised made him stand his ground. There were no guards at the entrance, which was strange. The lights had gone out and darkness enveloped the palace like a shroud. A bat flew close to Purochana's head and merged into the blackness of the night as he almost screamed.
Carefully, Purochana walked towards the palace, trying to keep his hands from shaking, silently cursing himself for having agreed to do this reckless mission for the foreigner. As he neared the palace, he could hear bits of conversation escaping from a shuttered window. He paused to listen but could not make sense of what was being said except for someone mentioning the name of the Chief Priest of Hastinapura. Purochana took out his knife and tried to prise open the window a little. He was still trying to do so when he heard a door open. Despite his bulk, he quickly moved back, just in time to see the silhouettes of a woman and four men emerge. They huddled together for a few minutes. Then a fifth man came out, holding a small lamp in his hand. The woman closed the door and checked the latch. She hurried away with four of the men. The man with the lamp waited until they were safely away and then took some rags and spread them around the walls and pillars of the veranda. He poured oil onto the rags from a large vessel he also carried. He stood still for a few seconds, as if in prayer, and then lit the fuel-soaked rags with the flame from his lamp. Turning, he ran towards his companions.
Purochana had forgotten for a moment that the palace he had made was designed to catch fire in an instant and burn down in a matter of minutes. An explosion threw the fat bureaucrat a few feet away, numbing him with shock. Before he knew what had happened, the palace of lac was engulfed in a roaring blaze. In the light of the burning palace, Purochana recognized the Pandavas running towards the river. He could also see a boat approaching the ghat. Hell! The Pandavas had escaped and outwitted him. The heat from the fire was tremendous and Purochana moved away, trying to make sense of what was happening. He thought of following the fleeing Pandavas, but his mission was not to kill them. It was better to escape and then claim he had accomplished his mission; get the money from the foreigner, and vanish.
He was about to turn back when a woman's scream of terror froze his feet. He could see people in flames, running inside the burning palace, desperately trying to get out. 'Unlucky bastards,' thought Purochana. He was turning to run when a child's scream changed everything. He was shaken to see a mother desperately trying to push a young boy through a window. Without thinking about the consequences, Purochana ran towards the burning palace instead of away from it.
"Swami, Swami..." the dark-skinned woman screamed out to him, her hair aflame, as she tried to shove her child through the burning window. The child was crying in fear and trying to slash the bars of the window with a small knife. The woman was obviously an Untouchable, but what the hell, a child was in danger and he had to do something, the bureaucrat thought frantically. Ignoring the heat, Purochana ran towards the window. 'Why am I risking my life for a dirty black urchin?' a part of his brain kept screaming. However, something he never even knew existed in him, made him remain rooted to the spot under the window.
Retribution for such acts of compassion is swift and sure and it came in the form of a wall crashing down from the burning palace. It was almost as if somebody high above had pushed it down in anger. It crashed down onto the civil servant, pinning him to the ground. He watched in horrified helplessness as fire engulfed the mother and child. As the flames crawled towards him and began devouring his corpulent body, Purochana thought sadly that not even his wife knew where he had hidden the money from a lifetime of swindling. 'I wasted my life and am now dying for a useless cause,' was his last thought.
***
Far away, a boat lay anchored in the waters of the Ganga. Dhaumya, a couple of his assistants, and Kunti and her five sons, watched the God of Fire devouring the palace. Arjuna sat staring at his feet.
"I feel terrible, but what choice did we have, Guru Dhaumya?" Kunti asked, looking at the burning palace.
Dhaumya turned to her. "Devi, nothing is considered wrong when your own life is in danger. But now you have to be careful. I hope the Great God Agni will have devoured all the bodies beyond recognition. Devi Kunti, it was a masterstroke to get those Nishadas. Leave the rest to me. We will spread the rumour that the Pandavas died in the fire. Keep a low profile until you gain powerful friends. Go to Panchala. There is going to be a swayamvara there. The King will be giving away the hand of his daughter to the best archer. Arjuna can easily win the beautiful Princess Draupadi as his wife."
Dhaumya's words did not evoke any response from the gloomy Arjuna. Kunti and the Head Priest exchanged glances while Yudhishtra shook his head in frustration. Somebody had to explain the complexities of dharma and karma to his naive brother.
The Priest sat down beside Arjuna. The handsome Prince immediately stood up, rocking the boat. "We trapped them like animals!"
"Prince, you have nothing to fear. Think of them as celestial beings from the court of Indra, who came to earth because of a curse. They were born Untouchables because they had disrespected some Maharishi. But their dying in the cause of dharma has now expiated their sins. It is a good story and our fellow citizens will eagerly believe it. We will repeat it in all the temples and soon there will be fools dying to uphold its veracity." Everyone except Arjuna laughed at Dhaumya's words.
"I wonder what disguise we should take on?" Yudhishtra asked the Chief Priest.
Dhaumya replied without hesitation. "Disguise yourselves as Brahmins. You will then get food whenever you want, and respect, even if you don't want it."
As the sun peeped in the Eastern sky, they freed the boat and started rowing towards Panchala. Some way down the river, they passed a ferryboat, overflowing with people. The Pandavas did not see the dark young man sitting on the prow, bound for Varanavata. But the Nishada's eyes never left them.
*
*
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21 SWAYAMVARA
EKALAVYA DISEMBARKED FROM THE BOAT at the ghat and like all the other passengers, his eyes went to the smouldering remains of the palace. He had heard rumours in the ferryboat that the Pandava palace at Varanavata had gone up in flames the previous night and that the Pandavas and their mother had died in the mishap. People were talking excitedly, pointing at the black smoke snaking its way towards heaven, and commenting on the misfortune of the poor Pandavas. Ekalavya followed the group walking towards the charred ruins. He was confused about the identity of the Priest he had seen in the boat they had passed, but he was almost sure the man sitting with bowed head had been Arjuna.
Ekalavya sorely missed his family when they left. He had tried to suppress the urge to visit them by punishing himself with long sessions of gruelling archery practice. But the impish smile of his little nephew kept haunting him. On an impulse, he started towards Varanavata, curious to see how they were faring in the land of the righteous Pandavas.
There was nothing much left of the palace when Ekalavya reached it. The air was foul with the smell of burnt flesh and hair, and there were puddles of dirty water here and there. People stood in groups, co
vering their noses with their hands to ward off the smell of death. A few guards were directing the chandalas in extricating the bodies. Some women screamed and cried out whenever a charred body was carried to the bullock cart waiting a few feet away. People sucked in their breaths as the chandalas brought out the body of a woman. Sniffs and sobs punctuated the uneasy silence of death. "Rajamata Kunti," someone murmured. The chandalas brought out the bodies of her sons. The crowd pushed and jostled to have a look at the dead Pandavas. Ekalavya thought the bodies looked too small to be those of the well-built Pandavas. But who knew what fire could do?
"Where is Bhima?" a man near Ekalavya wondered aloud. The next corpse to come from the smouldering ruins answered his question. "Bhima," the crowd cried, a hint of pleasure tinting their horror. A few women let out high-pitched wails. The bearers of the fat bureaucrat's charred body puffed and panted, struggling under the dead man's weight. They heaved the body into the cart, pushing it to one side to make room for more bodies. It was then that Ekalavya saw it. Something gleamed on the chest of one of the corpses. A shiver passed through the Nishada's heart and he became numb with grief. He wanted to deny it, but it was unmistakable. With terrified steps, he moved towards the cart in which they had piled the bodies.
