by Unknown
The Pandavas camped on the banks of the Yamuna to oversee the construction. When they ran out of funds for their luxurious city, they raised the taxes or raided the countryside. They watched the magnificent city rise with pride and satisfaction and revelled in the paeans being sung in its praise. The Gods were kind to them but they were not surprised by this benevolence. Had they not always followed the word of the Lord and walked the path of dharma? It was nothing less than what they deserved. As the city neared completion, their Priest and Counsellor, Dhaumya, arrived from Hastinapura with his disciples, to ensure Yudhishtra kept treading the path of righteousness.
A few days after Mayasura had laid the first stone for the new city; Vasuki left it with some men of his choosing. He did not try to dissuade Mayasura, for he knew nothing could tear the possessed man from the city he was yearning to build. But Vasuki had an urgent mission. After the carnage at Khandiva, Takshaka had tried to take revenge on Hastinapura by mounting a series of terrorist attacks. Bhishma had ruthlessly put down the rebellion. The current whereabouts of Takshaka was unknown. His hold on the poorer sections of Hastinapura had weakened considerably after Vidhura had smashed Durjaya's network. Vasuki felt uneasy about their unethical liaison with elements like Durjaya. He also suspected a ruthless and powerful person was manipulating them from the shadows and rejoicing in the chaos, which ensued. From experience, he knew nothing good could from this unholy alliance.
Vasuki had heard the rumours about General Hiranyadhanus and Emperor Jarasandha's death. He had to find Ekalavya before he did something rash. He was the last of hope for his blighted people. Vasuki was growing old and his time was running out. If he could just manage to make Ekalavya or himself the leader of the Nagas, instead of the arrogant and power hungry Takshaka, perhaps there would be some hope. Deeply worried, the old man left Mayasura and went in search of Ekalavya.
The other old man in the gang chose to stay with Mayasura. He had nothing in common with the Nagas and his alliance was due to the pitiful straits he had fallen into. In another era, he would have been sitting on the throne of India, lording over inferior men like Takshaka, or even Bhishma. The contrast between the first Indra, who had smashed the old Asura kingdoms ruthlessly and established Deva rule and their dynasty, and the present one who scurried about like a mouse, living on the tid-bits thrown by men like Takshaka, was stark and pitiful. In his youth, Indra had dreamt of regaining his empire but as he grew older, the dream turned sour and left him an embittered old man.
The highpoint of his life had been when Kunti had invited him to her bed for a few weeks. He had left his ruined palace in the Khandiva forest and walked all the way to Hastinapura. He had waited anxiously, like a common villager, at the entrance of her comfortable dwelling on the outskirts of the forest. When she finally granted him admittance, he could feel the cold contempt in her eyes. Dhaumya the Priest was there too and it was evident it was he who had persuaded the Princess and her impotent husband to invite him. As he bore the indignity of the rituals and mantras, he wondered about his fate. He was about to share the bed of another man's wife. She already had two sons whom her husband had not fathered. Indra felt like a prize bull, brought in to impregnate the Royal womb. Had he not needed the money desperately, he would have cursed them all and stormed out.
While the Priests discussed philosophy outside, he had fumbled with Kunti inside the stuffy room, fuming at her contemptuous smile. For the first two days, he had burned with shame at his own impotency. When he finally succeeded in his task, he felt more relief than pleasure. Collecting his money and gifts, he had felt like a prostitute. He wondered about this strange world and its morality until genteel poverty reasserted itself and blotted out such meaningless thoughts.
Indra had taken shelter in Mayasura's hut but he was irritated by the very sight of the dreamy architect. The thought that the last Indra owed his life to this effeminate Asura, made him bitter. He expressed his frustration by abusing the young man whenever he got the chance. Mayasura, lost in his own dream world, ignored the rantings of the old man. It was easy to do as his work kept him more than occupied. He made sure he left the hut before Indra woke and returned only after he was asleep. Occasionally, however, arguments broke out between them and Mayasura's amused smile would drive Indra almost mad. During one such argument, Indra blurted out that Arjuna was, in fact, his son. Mayasura rolled on the floor with laughter at the preposterous thought. Indra stormed out of the hut, abusing the Untouchable, and walked to the camp of the Pandavas. As he neared, his bravado vanished. He stood outside the camp and would have turned back had the hawk-eyed Dhaumya not seen him. He said something to Krishna, who had come to visit his friends, and before Indra knew it, all of them were walking towards him.
Krishna bowed and smiled. "Your Highness, welcome to the humble abode of the Pandavas."
Yudhishtra then came forward and touched his feet. Indra was taken aback, both by the form of address and by the gesture of respect from the eldest Pandava. It had been a long time since he had heard anyone address him as 'Highness' and it sounded strange to his ears. He searched for any trace of scorn in their smiles but they stood bowing respectfully, as though Indra was sitting on the throne of India as its rightful Emperor.
"Here is your son, your Highness." Krishna pushed forward the reluctant Arjuna.
Indra was overwhelmed with emotion. Being introduced to his grown-up son suddenly brought back all the dark memories. It reminded the last Indra of the harsh reality - that he was a failure in life. When he lifted up his son, who had stooped to touch his feet, he could not control himself and broke into sobs. The Indra dynasty would not end with him, it would continue through this Pandava. The old King felt his life finally had some meaning and purpose. "My son... my son..." he kept mumbling through his tears as he caressed the stiff warrior.
They showed Indra around the wonderful city they were building and he felt more elated with every passing sight. Krishna asked him whether he realised it had been Arjuna who had saved his life by killing the charging elephant the day Khandiva burned down. Indra looked at his son with pride. It was a relief to know he was not indebted to that Asura after all. It was his son who had saved him, not the Untouchable. The hatred he felt for Mayasura dissolved with that knowledge. He no longer felt indebted. Instead, Indra told them about Mayasura's many gifts, heaping praise on the architect. But Mayasura's patrons, the Pandavas, remained indifferent to Indra's words. Krishna smiled at the erstwhile King and said the Asura was just doing his duty, there was nothing extraordinary in that. He too, owed his life to Arjuna, and he was merely repaying his debt.
Krishna's words silenced Indra. He did not wish to argue with the powerful man and destroy the happiness he had finally found. To change the subject, he asked the Pandavas whether they had thought of a name for their new city
"Sir, the name honours you," the eldest Pandava said. A smile broke the usual calm placidity of his face. Indra's heart skipped a beat. "It will be called..." Yudhishtra looked around at his beaming brothers. "Arjuna, why don't you tell His Highness what has been decided?"
Arjuna nodded. "Indraprastha - City of Indra." He said it so quietly that the others had to strain to hear.
The last Indra's ecstasy knew no bounds. Tears filled his eyes. In the autumn of his years, he finally knew the Gods had not forgotten him. The greatest city of India would be named after him. His son would continue his lineage. He had not lived in vain. Indra stood in complete silence. His joy was too great to bear.
"We have named the city in honour of the first Indra, Purendra," said Krishna.
The words brought the old man back to earth with a thud. It was cruel of them to remind him. He was just a broken old man who had only the glory of his ancestors to call his own. Mortification filled his soul as he turned away.
"Sir, we mean no offence. In fact, we are all proud that the blood of the great Purendra Indra flows in the veins of my brother Arjuna, through you," Yudhishtra said to Indra.
Perhaps Mayasura could reinvent the technique, Indra thought in growing excitement. 'I will bestow the Vajra on my son, to take on the mighty Karna and thus repay my debt and become free. Until then, I will not step into his palace or face him. The world will then know, the last Indra was not a complete failure.' Indra hurriedly said his farewells to Krishna and the Pandavas. It gave him pleasure to refuse their invitation to remain. But when Yudhishtra offered to convey him to his door, he did not decline. He wanted his neighbours in the coolie line to see him getting down from the Royal chariot. But more than that, he wanted Mayasura to witness his triumph.
***
Mayasura came home early. He was perplexed to see his master's chariot stopping at his gate and rushed out to pay his respects. He was shocked to see old Indra getting down from the chariot, wearing a smug smile. Yudhishtra warned the Asura to treat Arjuna's father with all due respect. He explained, that as an ascetic, Indra did not care for material comforts; hence, he preferred to reside in the hut rather than in the palace. The young architect bowed in silence.
Returning to the Pandava camp after depositing the cranky old man at the Untouchable's hut, Yudhishtra shook his head in disgust. He hated going to the stinking coolie colony. He would now have to take a bath. Nor did he look forward to the session with Guru Dhaumya, where he would certainly be lectured on the necessity of keeping the body and spirit pure. A few gifts to the Brahmins would absolve him of this particular sin, but the palace was grander than he had ever imagined and the coffers were almost empty. He would be forced to raise the taxes again.
For a moment, Yudhishtra envied his cousin Duryodhana, who had the courage to stand up against the likes of Dhaumya. 'Duryodhana! Why does he always make me look like a weak fool?' wondered his cousin. The path of dharma was difficult. He trod every step in fear, lest he commit a sin that would earn him the wrath of the Brahmins and damnation from the Gods. When he was alone in his chamber, free of the heavy cloak of righteousness he painfully wore, he was afraid to look in the mirror and see himself. His entire life was a lie. He lived in fear. Deep in his heart, he knew he had no claim to the throne of Hastinapura. He needed the support of the obscure smritis and the fanciful interpretations by amoral scholars, to justify his claims. But he had no choice. He needed men like Dhaumya as much as they needed him.
Yudhishtra entered the camp and went to take a bath, ignoring both his wife and mother. He could endure anything but not Draupadi's scornful smile. His greatest fear was not having to confront Duryodhana or Karna in the battlefield one day, but facing his wife in the privacy of their chamber. He suspected she knew him better than he knew himself. He was afraid she had already found the turbulent darkness that hid under the surface of his vaunted uprightness. He did not wish to look into her lovely eyes and see his reflection in those dark depths.
***
The relationship between Indra and Mayasura changed after that day. The old man was less harsh in his criticism and the younger man showed more respect to the deposed Deva King. The city project was in its final stages. More and more people began arriving from Hastinapura and other parts of the country. Mayasura heard the complaints about the higher castes imposing restrictions on the movements of the Nagas in various places, but obsessed with the completion of the temple; he did not heed the early warning signs.
Things soon turned for the worse. Returning from work one day, he found many people crowded at the gates of the slums. It was nearly midnight. It was unusual for so many women to be on the road at that time of night. Trying to suppress the nameless fear that bubbled in his mind, he walked quickly towards his hut. A few men stared at him in accusation as he passed but refused to answer his frantic questions. Some of the women were frantically arranging their meagre household possessions, getting ready to move out. He saw Indra sitting dejectedly in the veranda and rushed to him.
"The King's men have announced they will be demolishing this colony. They have asked everyone to move to the other side of the Yamuna, to the place reserved for Untouchables and low castes. They want to create a public park here."
Mayasura sat down on the mud steps of his hut and covered his face with his calloused hands. He waited for the tears to come, but they had dried long ago. He waited for anger, but that too had vanished. When dawn began encroaching into the night sky, the elephants came and began demolishing the huts. Silently, the people walked towards the river and waited for the ferry. The city no longer needed them. They were once again unwanted. The old Deva King and the young Asura sat together without exchanging a word. When the elephants came to demolish their humble hut, they just stood up and walked to the edge of the clearing, and watched them pulling down their home.
Day broke with light showers falling on the desolation of the coolie camp. The mahouts had taken the elephants away after the demolition was completed. The place where the Nagas had spent three years was just a pile of rubble now. The alleys that had buzzed with life and the laughter of children just the previous night had vanished without a trace. It was as if the Government had wiped out three years of their lives.
The last Indra leaned on Mayasura's shoulder, watching the frogs jumping in and out of the puddles. He asked in a soft voice, "Does God not see this injustice?"
It was a lament more than a question, but it shook Mayasura from his stupor. "Oh my god, how could I forget?" he cried aloud. Dropping Indra's arm, he ran towards the temple, leaving the old man perplexed.
Puffing and panting, Indra followed the Asura towards the Royal highway, where a grand procession inched along. Both sides of the street were decorated with marigolds and jasmine. The rhythmic chanting of mantras rose into the sky along with the auspicious sound of conch shells and brass bells. At a distance, the tall spires of the new temple sparkled in the sun. The procession was more than a mile long. Young men and women walked along gaily. When they saw Mayasura running towards the temple, they were surprised. 'He is an Untouchable. Stop him before he defiles everything that is holy,' someone cried. The crowd parted in horror as if the Asura architect carried a contagious disease.
Mayasura reached the head of the procession where Yudhishtra was sitting in a slowly moving chariot, with his wife. His brothers stood behind, proudly viewing the grand city they had created. Krishna sat nearby. The Asura ran beside the chariot, screaming as loudly as he could. Yudhishtra ordered the driver to stop. The music and chanting trailed into silence.
Dhaumya and Kunti, who were in the chariot behind, got down to enquire about the sudden halt. The Priest saw Mayasura standing near the Royal chariot and immediately shouted, "Do not touch and pollute us, you filthy pig."
Mayasura jumped back in horror. His courage fled as words failed him. He caught Arjuna's eye and thought he saw a hint of compassion. He looked at the great warrior who had spared his life three years before and said, "Forgive me, Swami. Their eyes are closed. Please allow me to open them." He pointed to the massive stone idol of Lord Shiva and his consort, Parvati, which he had sculpted in the temple. They were beautiful works of art, perfect in each detail, except for their eyes. It was as if the God and Goddess had close
d their eyes, unable to bear the doings of Man. Mayasura walked towards the idols to complete his work.
"Stop!" Dhaumya cried. Two guards immediately blocked the path of the architect.
Indra had managed to reach the Royal chariot and saw Mayasura trying to get past the guards. He was aghast at what was unfolding.
"Let me open their eyes... please let me open their eyes..." Mayasura cried, struggling to get to the holy idols.
"Take him away before he pollutes anything else," Dhaumya ordered.
The guards looked at Yudhishtra for confirmation. He nodded, and they dragged the struggling and pleading Mayasura from the temple he had toiled three years to build. They dragged him over the steps he had so lovingly polished. When he tried to grab the pillars he had carved with his own hands, they kicked them away so he would not defile them. The temple had been consecrated. It had no use for the man who had built it. The Gods had gone to new owners and people like Mayasura had no place in their abode.
"Brother, is it not inauspicious for the idols to be blind?" Arjuna asked Yudhishtra.
