AJAYA I -- Roll of the Dice

by Unknown

  "If I do not fight, they will destroy the city. I do not want a war, but as the leader of the Yadavas, I cannot leave my people to the mercy of the Nishada army. I detest war and violence, but I am not a coward. Non-violence has to be a position of strength. It cannot be a filthy cloth to cover the shame of cowardice. I will not indulge in peace talks until we are in a position to win. Non-violence is my personal belief. It should not stand in the way of what is good for my people. God protect us all, Revati."

  She saw him walking away. Valsala wriggled down and ran behind her father. He stooped to caress her innocently smiling face.

  "Then why are you not wearing your armour?" Revati cried. Her heart felt like a heavy stone in her chest.

  "I do not believe in false protection. If I have ruled my country well, loved my people, and never done anything to earn the wrath of those men standing outside our fort gates and baying for our blood, I will return alive and victorious. Nothing will touch me."

  Revati felt weak. Everything looked blurred through her tears. 'Krishna, where are you? Why have you left your brother alone when you are most needed?' she silently cried.

  "Daughter, take care of your mother and your two naughty brothers," Revati heard Balarama tell Valsala. As her little daughter ran to her, she saw him vanish through the door. Revati entered the puja room where her husband had spent the whole morning and shut the door. Her daughter ran to play with the puja bell. Its tinkling sounded incongruous to her ears. She could hear cheering and war cries outside. Why had war come to Dwaraka? After they had left Vrindavan, life had been peaceful and good in this coastal city. Life had been idyllic in Vrindavan too, until her husband entered politics and became the leader of the Yadavas. When did he get the fancy idea that he was called to serve his country and build an ideal city? Why did men have such impossible dreams? Why could they not be happy with their families? Why did they play dangerous games and bring home misery and tears?

  Revati prostrated herself on the floor, her forehead touching the ground. She did not want to look up and see the idol of Lord Rama and his consort Sita, for whose sake Rama and his brother had destroyed cities and slain thousands. The idol looked dangerously similar to her brother-in-law, Krishna. Why were the Nishadas attacking their city? If any ruler had shown concern for the plight of the Nishadas and other unfortunate people, it was Balarama. He was the only ruler who genuinely cared about them. Yet, now they were repaying his goodness with war. She felt bitter and cursed the Nishada leader who had brought bloodshed to her door. If Krishna did not come soon, everything would be lost.

  As she heard the massive doors of the fort creaking open and the thunderous cries of Har Har Mahadev echoing from her husband's army, she shut her eyes and rested her cheek on the cold marble floor. Her daughter played on, jingling the bell innocently before the idols and throwing flowers in mock imitation of a puja. She was fascinated by the monkey god Hanuman and kept throwing the best flowers at his feet. The war cries outside the window rose to a crescendo and then gradually died away...

  ***

  In the South, the Kings of the Southern Confederate stood around the bed of a frail, old man. Uthayan, Karna's old rival, was now the Chera King, and it was for his coronation that the powerful Asura Kings had assembled in Muzaris. Their Guru, Parashurama, had still to recover completely from his long coma, but when the physicians announced the Guru had awoken and was showing signs of life, the Kings of the Confederate had rushed to his bedside.

  Guru Parashurama opened his eyes painfully and the Kings heaved a collective sigh of relief. Uthayan moved forward and the glassy eyes of the old man locked onto his face. Parashurama was trying to say something. The newly crowned King moved close to his Guru with joy in his heart. 'I am blessed,' he thought, 'for among all these Kings, he had chosen to speak to me first.' Uthayan strained to hear what the Guru was trying to say. But when he deciphered the whispered words, his face became as dark as midnight.

  "Karna... where is my Karna? I want to see my Karna," the Guru kept mumbling.

  The assembly of Kings became agitated. The greatest Kings of the South stood at his bedside and the Guru's first words were about that Suta, that cheat who had insulted them and escaped! It made them all look ridiculous. They walked out of the room, cursing the physicians who had made their Guru insane with their medicines.

  "Perhaps the Guru meant we should bring Karna to him. That bloody Suta has to be taught a lesson," the King of Vatapi said.

  The idea caught like wildfire. Yes, their Guru wanted revenge. They would drag the low caste imposter to the South and make an example of him. The old King of Kalinga advised caution, but there were too many young hot-bloods among the Southern Confederate rulers and no one wished to heed his unpalatable advice.

  "Who is afraid of a Suta, his friend Duryodhana, or even that old man Bhishma?" asked Uthayan. That was enough to bolster the fragile egos of the proud Kings. There were angry murmurs in the sabha.

  "Hastinapura is very far away. Are our coffers brimming with wealth that you wish to contemplate such an expedition?" the Kalinga King asked. Being the northernmost kingdom of the Confederate, his land and people would be the first to pay the price if something went wrong.

  Uthayan understood the reasons for the King's caution. He moved closer and said, "Your Highness, this is why we have taxes. The people will willingly pay more in taxes for the sake of dharma. Do we not owe at least that to our Guru? It is a small price to pay to serve the man who taught us right from wrong. That Suta insulted all of us and we did nothing. Now, our Guru has asked for him. By Lord Vishnu, I swear we will get that arrogant Suta!"

  The Kalinga King still hesitated. Uthayan stared at him intently. He could see the old man was worried about the armour he had bestowed upon Karna. Perhaps he was wondering if the Sun God had been wrong about Karna's worthiness? Uthayan sensed it was time to move or he would lose the chance to get even with the upstart Karna. The flame of revenge Karna had ignited years ago, still raged in Uthayan's mind.

  "Bring the holy lamp from the temple of Lord Vamanamurthy," Uthayan commanded. Immediately, servants ran to fetch it. When it arrived, he placed it in the centre of the sabha and lit it.

  As the Priests chanted holy mantras, the Kings of the Southern Confederate stepped forward one by one, and placing their palms over the flame, took a vow in the name of religion and dharma, to capture Karna and drag him to the feet of Guru Parashurama. As the sabha filled with the pungent smell of singeing flesh, riders set out, galloping towards the great cities of the Confederate. They carried only one message: Guru Parashurama commands all the Kings of the Confederate to place their forces at the disposal of the Council of Kings. The mission before this special force is the invasion of Hastinapura; the crushing of the northern kingdoms; and the capture of the Suta, Karna, who will be dragged to meet his fate at the feet of the divine Guru.

  'Karna, where can you run to now?' Uthayan laughed to himself as he gazed at the warriors assembling near the Chera fort. The thunderous drumming of the chendas rolled around him, shaking the very ground he stood on. It was better his father had not lived to see this day. He too, would have talked like the old Kalinga King, advising restraint and caution, thought Uthayan. His time to take on the Suta was at hand and nothing was going to stop him.

  ***

  Bhanumati sat in her chamber with Subhadra, Draupadi, and the children, trying to understand what was happening in the dice game below. The faint sounds of cheering, as well as despair, came to her ears. Oblivious to the drama unfolding below, Draupadi and Subhadra sat chatting. Bhanumati wondered how they could discuss the men they knew so casually. Draupadi was saying how boring Yudhishtra was, that she could make Bhima do her bidding every time, and how handsome Nakula and Sahadeva were. Karna too, came under their scrutiny and both women agreed he would have been their clear favourite if only he had been a Kshatriya. Judiciously, they avoided discussing Arjuna, their common husband. Bhanumati was surprised by the camaraderie betwe
en the two women who shared the same man. Even after so many years, even knowing her husband was faithful, Bhanumati still could not control her racing heart whenever Suyodhana stole a glance at Subhadra.

  Why had the sabha gone so silent? Why was that mad Brahmin, Kripa, laughing so loudly? Then Bhanumati heard something that made her heart freeze. She looked in alarm at Draupadi, still chatting animatedly with Subhadra. She could clearly hear it now - the creaking of the wooden stairs. She could hear someone approaching. The footsteps stopped outside the door. Bhanumati was about to let out a sigh of relief when there was a soft knocking. She looked up in sudden fear. Her heart told her something terrible was about to happen. As the knocking grew louder and bolder, she closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears from escaping. The knocking turned into banging. A horse neighed in the street as the first tears fell into Bhanumati's lap.

  ***

  Shakuni looked at the fool who had gambled and lost everything, including his wife. He looked at the Crown Prince sitting near him; his face pale and withdrawn. He looked at the Suta, paying back every insult he had faced, double fold. He looked at the Grand Regent wearing a stony expression, refusing to interfere. He looked at his mute brother-in-law, sitting on the throne of Hastinapura, pretending to rule India. The foreigner looked towards the door, expecting Sushasana to enter at any moment, dragging a screaming Draupadi by her hair. He wanted to laugh aloud at the five impotent husbands who sat like statues, waiting for their common wife to be stripped in public. He looked at the Priests busy debating, always debating, the rights and wrongs of what was happening.

  'Father, it is done.' Shakuni smiled smugly. The dice, chiselled from the bones of a long-dead King of Gandhara, was not going to stop rolling any time soon. He could visualize clearly the apocalypse that was fast approaching; he could smell blood and see death and destruction. The Great War was near! It would consume everything. Shakuni rubbed his hands in glee.

  The sabha was as silent as death. Except for the irritating howling of a street dog somewhere outside the palace, and the faint singing of that ugly beggar lamenting the fate of the country, there was no other sound. Everything looked perfect to the Gandhara Prince. This land was finished. Shakuni could almost hear the voices of his slain people, echoing around him. He wanted to cheer with them. But this was not the time for triumphant displays. There was still work to be done. He waited for the inevitable.

  The dice had fallen.

  ***

  To be continued in

  AJAYA, Book II, Rise of Kali

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  SHORT NOTES

  POLYANDRY IN ANCIENT INDIA

  One of the first instances of polyandry occurs in the Rig Veda. Surya, also known as Ushas, is wooed and married by the Aswini brothers - the Gods of Dawn and Dusk. The Vedic poet wonders about their journey through the sky in a three-seated chariot, with their bride Surya (not to be confused with Surya, the Sun God). Surya has another husband - none other than Soma, the Moon. The Rig Veda also mentions Rodasi (Lightning), common wife of the Maruts - the Gods of Clouds and Storms. Another example is Sage Vasista, said to have been the son of both Mitra and Varuna, from Urvashi. It is easy to dismiss these mentions as poetic license; however, the truth remains that all writers use imagery that is accepted and understood by contemporary society. These examples serve to tell us that polyandry, though not a dominant practice, was never shunned in the pre-epic period - an age which appears, even to our modern eyes, to have been both liberal and inclusive.

  In the Mahabharata era, the practise of polyandry was more the exception than the rule. The explanations and justifications given for Draupadi's marriage to the five Pandava brothers show the changing social values of the period. The arguments seem somewhat contrived and lack the confident assertions of most Vedic writing. The Mahabharata says that all five Pandava brothers married her, according to Vedic rituals (Agnisakshi and Saptapada), and hence it was not just a case of cohabitation, as is sometimes opined by critics. The arguments regarding the propriety of a woman marrying five men go back and forth in the epic. There is mention that according to tradition, a woman could marry only four men at the same time, any more would make her a prostitute. This statement is particularly intriguing in the case of Draupadi.

  Kunti is also aware of this. But who is to be left out from the five Pandavas, if such a rule was to be applied in case of Draupadi, is the great dilemma she faces. Yudhishtra rescues everyone by justifying polyandry by citing the examples of Marisa, the tree spirit's marriage to ten sages; and that of Vrakasi to the ten Practesa brothers. However, later in the Mahabharata, Karna uses the argument that any woman who marries more than four men is considered a prostitute, hence stripping Draupadi in public takes on another dimension. Karna refers to existing norms rather than those of the Vedic period.

  Marriage was considered valid only after the performance of the Vedic rituals. Though Arjuna wins Draupadi at the swayamvara, in order to obtain the sanction of society, all five brothers are married to her as per Vedic rituals according to their seniority. The rules of sharing are also laid down by Kunti, and each brother has Draupadi for one year. The text is ambiguous about the sharing arrangements during pregnancy, but we can assume that Draupadi remained with the father of the unborn child until its birth and the stipulated time thereafter for maternal rituals to be completed, before the rotation began again. Also, it is likely that one menstrual cycle elapsed between the end of one husband's time and the beginning of the next. These rules were applied to prevent confusion regarding who was the father of the child.

  Kunti justifies the marriage of her five sons to one woman using the concept of niyoga. This is explained in various texts in different ways. It was a very flexible idea. In an era prior to the time of the epic, younger brothers had rights over their sister-in-law (the firstborn's wife), though not the other way round. Later, as the social norms changed niyoga was permitted only in exceptional circumstances. It originally meant that a woman whose husband was either incapable of fathering children or had died childless, could appoint a man to be the father of her child - rather similar to the modern concept of sperm donation. Niyoga also had societal sanction if a younger sister-in-law became a widow without having any sons. That particular rule is quoted by Bhishma in the cases of Ambika and Ambalika; hence, Vedavyasa becomes the natural father of Dhritarashtra, Pandu and Vidhura. In a sense, this is also polyandry. Niyoga also came to mean that with the husband's consent, the wife could bear sons from men of any of the three castes; or according to some schools of thought, only by sapinda (brothers/those who shared the same pinda). Kunti and Madri's polyandrous relationships with various gods had the consent of their husband, Pandu.

  But Kunti having children using niyoga, may have had more to do with politics than custom. She does not disclose the identity of her illegitimate son until the very end; nor does she ask for her brother-in-law's help in procreation, as per custom. According to the Manusmriti, niyoga can be performed only if there are no male heirs and hence the lineage is on the verge of extinction. That was not the case in the Kuru ruling house. If Pandu was impotent, Dhritarashtra was still able to father children, and did. But Kunti wished her own son to succeed to the throne of Hastinapura and not Gandhari's. Hence, in Kunti's niyoga, it was not a brother-in-law or even a mortal who takes part, but the Gods themselves. The Pandavas thus become known as divine progeny and the sons of Gods. From this seed sprouts the conflict portrayed in the Mahabharata. Yudhishtra's claim to the throne is justified by the rule that sons born of a niyoga relationship are considered the husband's sons. The logic for this was that if a neighbour planted seeds in another's land, when they sprouted the plants became the property of the owner and not the one who planted them. But these ideas are pushed even further in the case of the Pandavas. One may wonder what could be a modern explanation for impregnation by various Gods?

  Pandu and his two wives chose to retire to the forest to undertake niy
oga. The clandestine nature of this act stands in stark contrast to a similar situation in the previous generation, when Satyavathi called upon her ascetic son, Vyasa, born before her marriage, to be the niyoga partner for her widowed daughters-in-law. Vyasa then lived in the palace and did as his mother asked, in an open manner. Society accepted both the Dowager- Queen's illegitimate son (Vyasa) and his niyoga. Pandu himself was a product of this. Possibly, Kunti and Pandu thought that children born in the usual niyoga norms would not gain the support of the people; hence, the sons of Dhritarashtra and Gandhari would then have the only legitimate claim on the throne of Hastinapura.

  Most probably, the niyoga of both Kunti and Madri was with forest dwellers or travelling ascetics. Yudhishtra could have been of Brahmin origin. It may be noted that there were, and still are, Brahmins who aid in Hindu funeral rituals. One of the three Brahmins, who partake in the pinda, is designated Yama, or the God of Death, for the duration of the ritual. As per custom, the three Brahmins need to be men learned in the scriptures and respected for their knowledge. Yudhishtra's father could very well have been one such scholar. Bhima's lineage could be that of a forest dweller. The fact that Kunti permits only Bhima to marry a rakshasi, Hidumbi, may bear on this possibility. Bhima has a violent nature and there are a few occasions when he drinks the blood of his enemies. Arjuna, of course, is the son of the Deva King, Indra. The Mahabharata shows Indra dwelt in Khandivaprastha, and was a friend of Takshaka. Whatever may be the truth, in an era when people believed in Gods coming down from heaven and bestowing children upon mortals, the propaganda that the Pandavas were the sons of Gods was a political masterstroke by Kunti and her strategists.