AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (36 page)

“So they can impose their rules? So that Dhaumya and others like him become unquestionable?” Suyodhana thundered.

“Five villages will also do,” Krishna added in a soft voice.

“So they can kindle a revolution from there?”

“You are making peace impossible, Suyodhana. Have a care what you do in such unthinking anger and haste,” said Krishna, his voice losing some of its calm. “This is the final offer: Yudhishtra will settle for a house.”

“Krishna, we gave them a house years ago. In fact, we gave them a palace. All those present in this Sabha will remember what the sons of
dharma
and their pious mother did with it. We were left to deal with the widows of the soldiers they trapped and killed in the palace fire. It might be a minor detail that they also baited a Nishada woman and her five children with food and then burnt them alive. These are perhaps small footnotes in the glorious stories of
dharma,”
Suyodhana said, his voice dying into silence. Many heads nodded in agreement.

“Suyodhana, power has gone to your head and you cannot discern between right and wrong,” Krishna said succinctly.

“Stop! Not another word from you, you cunning Yadava. Remember, you are standing in the Hastinapura Sabha. You accuse me of being power hungry? What about you? You are using the Pandavas and their gullibility to finish off your enemies. Tell me why I should share my birthright with the bastard sons of my aunts?”

“Suyodhana!” Bhishma stood up, trembling with anger. “Mind what you say. You were not raised in the gutter. Krishna is our guest...”

“What have I said that is untrue, Pitamaha? What right have the Pandavas to claim the throne?”

“Suyodhana, it would have served you better if you had studied the history of the Kuru race more closely instead of absenting yourself from your classes,” Krishna said with a mocking smile. “The revered sage, Veda Vyasa, would no doubt have had the answers to your questions. He would perhaps have asked you who the father of respected King Dhritarashtra, revered Pandu and
mahatma
Vidhura was. It may have helped you to understand Yudhishtra’s claim.”

There was an edgy hush in the Sabha.

“Don’t try to corner me with the custom of
niyoga.
Sage Veda Vyasa is our grandfather and we are proud of it. The
niyoga
was done with the blessings of the elders and not surreptitiously in the jungle, as in the case of my aunts, Kunti and Madri. Can Yudhishtra point to any man and say, ‘Here is my father’? It is claimed that Yudhishtra is the son of Yama, the God of Death; Bhima, the son of Vayu, the God of the Winds; Arjuna, the son of Indra, King of the Gods; and Nakula and Sahadeva, the sons of the Gods of Dawn and Dusk. Do you think we are naive enough to believe such bizarre stories? Do you?”

“You have one last opportunity to avoid a bloody war and the total annihilation of your race, Duryodhana,” Krishna said, his lips smiling, but his eyes burning with anger.

“Are you threatening me, you cowherd?”

“You do not know who I am.”

“I know who you are, and I am not one of those naive women of Vrindavana to fall prey to your charms. You have an agenda and you use words like
dharma
to cloak your evil intent. I am not afraid of war. If that is to be, so be it. Hear this, Yadava, go and tell my aunt’s sons that I will not give them even a tiny portion of the earth which legitimately belongs to me, not even the space to jab a needle.”

The Sabha erupted into an uproar. War was now certain.

“Arrest the Yadava,” Suyodhana said calmly. The din in the Sabha became deafening.

Krishna smiled at the Crown Prince. “Duryodhana, it is time for you to see who I am.” There was a blaze of light, as though something had exploded. Krishna said, “King Dhritarashtra, your son will ruin this kingdom and take everyone to their doom. He is leading your people to annihilation. He does not know whom he is speaking to, nor what he is saying. He is walking the path of
adharma.
The war will finish your line. Be warned and beware. He is challenging the will of God. Know that I am Death and I am Life. I am Time and I am Timelessness. I am the Beginning and the End. I am Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Behold my glory.”

Suyodhana watched impassively as many people in the Sabha fell to their knees and bowed to Krishna. What was it they saw in him that he did not? It was just Krishna up to his usual tricks. Enough of this charade, Suyodhana decided.

“Enough of your street magic, Yadava! You are nothing but a charlatan. Whom are you threatening? If there is a war, so be it. If I die, I will go to a warrior’s heaven, like a true Kshatriya. But I will not hand over the kingdom to a gambler.”

Suyodhana smiled when he saw that Krishna was at a loss for words. Perhaps the Yadava was wondering why his famed
Vishwaroopa
act had failed to impress. What had he to fear when he had men like Karna and Aswathama beside him? Why claim to be a God and then commit unspeakable acts? It was better to be just a man and die for one’s beliefs and convictions with the head held high.

“Duryodhana, you will pay dearly for this. Not just you, but this entire Kuru Sabha and everyone in this country. The voices that remained silent when a woman’s honour was dragged through mud in this very chamber, remain silent even now. It is for the best that you did not agree to the terms, since future generations would have said that I compromised with evil. Men of the Sabha, hear my words...this man has brought war upon you and nothing, I repeat, nothing is going to save you. Remember I warned you of what awaits you,” Krishna thundered at the dumbstruck Sabha.

“Arrest this charlatan!” Suyodhana barked at the guards.

Jerked from their stupefaction, the guards rushed towards Krishna. He dodged them with ridiculous ease, knocking them down. Smiling at Suyodhana, Krishna walked out of the Hastinapura Sabha as if retiring after a friendly chat with friends.

The Sabha emptied as courtiers dispersed in animated groups to discuss what had transpired. In the hubbub that ensued, Yuyutsu moved towards the stunned Crown Prince, who had yet to come to terms with the realisation that war was inevitable.

“Brother, I have some important things to discuss with you,” Yuyutsu said. Suyodhana looked up at the merchant’s smiling face and knew his troubles were just beginning.

“What of the deal I had enquired about?” Yuyutsu asked.

“This is neither the time nor the place,” Suyodhana said, irritated.

“It is always a good time to talk business. My dues are long pending. This country owes me money, a lot of money, Suyodhana.”

“The treasury is almost empty, but you are collecting taxes and tolls. What more do you want?”

Yuyutsu chuckled, “There is nothing much to collect these days, little brother. Your country is poor.”

“There is drought. Once the rains come, everything will be alright.”

“Before the rains, war will come and then what will happen to my money? It is all the more important that I secure my money now. Do you want me to broker a deal with the Pandavas?” Yuyutsu asked.

“You will be paid after the war.”

“Hmm, how sure you are of victory! But I am not so confident, I want my money now!”

“You scoundrel! Have you no sense of gratitude or obligation to your country?” Suyodhana trembled with frustration.

“I am only following my
dharma.
My duty is to trade,” Yuyutsu said, rubbing his thumb with his index finger. Overall, Suyodhana was a bad bet since Krishna was supporting the Pandavas. A message from Parashurama was lying safe in his waistband. By siding with the Pandavas, he was taking a huge risk, but Parashurama had promised him the better deal. If he won this gamble, he would not be trading in cloth and spices, but in countries and kingdoms.

“Are you not ashamed to make such demands at this critical time?” Suyodhana towered over Yuyutsu, his fists clenched.

“I am beyond such emotions. I do not concern myself about results. Detachment is my
mantra,
brother.” Yuyutsu emphasized the last word and smiled.

“Do not dare address me as your brother.”

“Are you afraid, Prince? Do not fret. I am not after your throne. Pay me well, pay me regularly, and I will govern the country for you.”

Suyodhana punched Yuyutsu in the face. The fat merchant fell in a heap at his feet. But Yuyutsu only laughed and got back up. With provocative slowness, he wiped the blood from his nose.

“Don’t stare at me like I am vermin. It is I who own this palace and most of this country, my dear brother.”

“Get out, before I kill you!” Suyodhana said in a menacing voice.

“Yudhishtra is a more business-friendly ruler than you, brother.”

“You snake!” Suyodhana advanced threateningly upon Yuyutsu.

“Money can buy all things, brother, even bravery, fame, and your kingdom and its little people.”

Suyodhana shouted for the guards to escort Yuyutsu out. His half-brother chuckled. Scores of Yuyutsu’s own soldiers appeared, surrounding him in a protective ring.

“Always looking for a fight, my little brother? You have no respect for businessmen. I am now going to the Pandava side. Send word whenever you want me. I am always available to the highest bidder.”

Yuyutsu walked out from another business meeting. In one stroke, Suyodhana’s armed strength had halved, while the Pandavas’ had doubled. He should have been more careful with his words. To hell with it, this was a war he would fight alone if required, he told himself. When he looked around, he was alone. The cavernous oppressiveness of the hall that had seen many intrigues and battles was suffocating. Suyodhana no longer felt sure of the future.

*****

45
   
W
INDS
OF
W
AR

“KRIPI,” DRONA CALLED OUT AS HE REACHED HOME.
The news from the Sabha had shaken him to the core. He was certain there would now be a war. He would be compelled to choose between his son and his beloved disciple, Arjuna. If only he could make Aswathama see reason and get him to shift allegiance.

Kripi opened the door. Seeing his grave, troubled face, she put a hand on his arm, but Drona merely pushed her away with a grunt and walked to his
puja
room. His sacred thread lay sweat-soaked across his chest. His mind seethed like an ocean in a storm. He prostrated himself before the idol of Shiva. ‘Lord of the Universe, show me the right path; show me my
dharma.
Should I fight beside my son or Arjuna?’

If he stood by Aswathama, Drona knew he would have to give his support to Duryodhana, whom he had always despised. If he took Arjuna’s side, he would have to fight his own son. ‘What is my
dharma?
Have I not been the most pure of Brahmins? Have I not followed all the rituals and conducted all the ceremonial sacrifices expected of a Brahmin of the highest lineage?’ Then why was the Lord placing such an impossible choice before him?

Drona heard his son enter the house and mother and son speak in whispers. He could feel his son’s eyes burning into his back. Then he heard Aswathama slam shut the door of his room. Drona raised his head, looked at the idol of Shiva, and gasped! Ekalavya! The untouchable was in his prayer room! How was it possible when the Nishada was dead? Hadn’t Krishna said he had killed Ekalavya? Then how was the Nishada standing where Shiva’s idol should have been?

Drona’s throat felt parched, his hands shivered. “Mahadeva, are you testing me? Are you saying Ekalavya is immortal...that there is life beyond death? Forgive this ignorant Brahmin.” Drona’s lips trembled as he mumbled the Lord’s name repeatedly. Gradually peace descended on him like a gentle balm. Drona’s decision was made. He knew the side he would be on in the war. He owed it to the Nishada, whose future he had stolen. He owed it to his son. It was his
dharma.

There was the sound of excited knocking at the door. Dhaumya’s voice called to him from the street. Reluctantly, Drona rose from his prostrate position and wiped the dust from his forehead. When he opened the door, Dhaumya entered, grinning like a split watermelon. Drona offered the priest a seat and then sat down on the veranda swing. To buy time, he opened his
paan
box, took out two leaves and started filling them with lime and betel nut.

“Guru Drona, war is now certain,” Dhaumya began.

Drona nodded in silence, offering his visitor a
paan
before pushing the other into a corner of his own mouth. He pulled the spittoon closer and then said, “I was at the Sabha when Krishna spoke.”

“It is the best thing that could have happened,” Dhaumya said, clearly delighted. He looked at the Guru in unabashed glee and then frowned when he saw Drona’s lack of enthusiasm. “Duryodhana will be finished...”

“Hmm...”

“All the Kauravas will die.”

“Hmm...”

“The Suta will die.”

“Hmm...”

“Krishna’s Narayana Sena will support the Pandavas. The Southern Confederate will declare their independence and join the Pandava cause.” Dhaumya counted them off on his fingers.