AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (4 page)

The story continues…

1
   
S
HAME

DRAUPADI KNEW HE WOULD BE BACK
. She had merely bought time by cowing the messenger sent to fetch her with an imperious glare. She had sent him back with a question for the elders in the Sabha: Had her husband pawned her before he himself had become a slave or after? A slave belonged to his master, he had no rights, no possessions and could not have staked her. The messenger had bowed in confusion and rushed back to convey her words. The door had slammed shut but the enormity of what Yudhishtra had done began to overwhelm Draupadi’s mind. She could sense the stunned silence in the Sabha when her question was repeated.

Draupadi forgot to breathe when she heard heavy footsteps hurrying up the stairs. They were coming for her. Her words had not deterred them. She stood with her back to the wall, her heart thudding in her chest as fear crept insidiously up her body from her toes. She desperately clutched the single sari that custom dictated women don during menstruation. As the other women in the chamber watched in aghast silence, the door was kicked open. Prince Sushasana stood with his feet planted on either side of the threshold, a lopsided grin on his flushed face. He rushed towards Draupadi but Subhadra threw herself between them. Sushasana roughly shoved Subhadra away and grabbed Draupadi by her long, lustrous hair and pulled viciously. She fell to her knees in pain.

‘Why is he doing this to me? Where are my husbands?’ Frantic thoughts flooded Draupadi’s mind. She could bear the pain but not the shame. She clung to the bedpost, the door, the handrails – anything that would stop Sushasana from dragging her half-clad to the Sabha. But she was no match for the burly Kaurava, drunk with
soma
and lust. The women of the royal household watched the brutish display in wide-eyed horror. Not a word was uttered; the only sounds were Draupadi’s pitiful appeals to the Prince and his loud laughter echoing down the stairway...

Murmurs ran across the Sabha like a wind though a field of wheat. Every eye was on Sushasana and the woman he was dragging into the marbled hall, one hand at her breast, the other grasping at anything that could stop her being dragged away. The bruises on her arms and face marked her torturous and resisting journey. She sensed the men staring at her but did not raise her head. She noticed every petal and frond of the design inlaid into the marble at her feet. She could smell the incense in the air and the odours of the crowded Sabha. She could feel the lustful gaze of hundreds of men on her bowed, scantily-clad form. She could sense their thoughts.

Suddenly, raucous laughter echoed around the vast hall. Unbidden, her father’s parting words rose to Draupadi’s mind: ‘Whatever the destinies may have in store, my daughter, always remember that you are of royal blood, the daughter of a King, a Princess. Act in accordance with that knowledge, which no one can take from you.’ Unable to bear the thought of her proud father hearing of her humiliation, Draupadi raised her head defiantly. Karna’s blazing eyes stared back at her, contempt and pity mingled in their glowing depths, his fine lips set in silent condemnation.

Sushasana pulled Draupadi forward by one arm. Trembling with anger and fear, she clutched at the flimsy sari covering her breasts.

“This is ignoble! This is no way to treat a woman! Cousin Yudhishtra is my brother Suyodhana’s slave. How can a slave stake anything?” The lone voice of Prince Vikarna, Suyodhana’s young brother, rang out, extinguishing the laughter and chatter. There was pindrop silence in the Sabha. Draupadi closed her eyes in relief. Someone to protect her at last.

“Prince Vikarna, this is a matter between a master and his slave. It does not concern anyone else.” Karna was standing up, pointing a finger at the young Kuru prince.

Draupadi felt breathless as she waited for her lone supporter to answer. But all she heard was defeated silence. It was the law.

Finally, Vidhura pleaded in a soft voice, “She is a Kuru wife and daughter-in-law...”

“Sir, you are a scholar. Is it for me to remind you that our laws consider a woman who shares the bed of more than four men a prostitute? This woman serves five men. She was pledged in the dice game by her husband. Prince Suyodhana won her fairly with all of us as witnesses. He is entitled to decide what is to be done with her.”

‘Karna, how can you be a party to this? How can you do this to
me?’
Draupadi stared at Karna, the silent words beating in her heart before she hissed at him, “Enough, you Suta!”

Before Karna could retort she turned towards her husbands, standing beside the dais where the fateful game had been played out. “Am I your chattel to pawn when you wish, share when you want, and sell when you fancy?” She looked at Yudhishtra’s stooped shoulders, trembling fingers and bent head with contempt. “Speak! Do something! Can you not see what is happening? How could you pledge me when you were already a slave?”

When the erstwhile Prince of Indraprastha, considered a font of knowledge, remained mute with his eyes downcast, Draupadi closed her own eyes in despair. Was this the same man who had braved his warrior-brother’s wrath to share her?

Jayadratha, King of Sind, his eyes flickering over Draupadi’s slim form gave a mirthless laugh and said, “They are slaves now, lady. They cannot speak without permission from their master.” Shakuni chuckled in glee.

“Arjuna, do you not hear these taunts?” Draupadi whispered. But all five of her warrior husbands remained silent, their eyes fixed to the floor. “Are you Kshatriyas? Are you even men?” Draupadi’s chest heaved in agitation as laughter resounded round the Sabha.

“Draupadi, be patient, they are consulting the holy books,” Jayadratha said to fresh roars of laughter.

Draupadi dropped to her knees and covered her flaming face with her hands. No, she would not weep because her five brave husbands had forsaken her when she needed them the most. She was still the daughter of a King. She looked up at Suyodhana and asked in bewilderment, her throat burning, “Prince, why are you doing this?”

“Did you really think you would go unpunished after insulting me? Did you think you could get away with abusing a man like Karna? You are a slave now and must do as you are told, like your valorous husbands over there,” Suyodhana snapped, his eyes blazing. He slapped his thigh and commanded, “Come and sit here, Draupadi or you will be stripped naked in front of the entire Sabha.”

The laughter ceased. An uneasy silence reigned.

Shakuni leaned forward and spoke. “Perhaps Devi Draupadi is ignorant of the law of
karma.
She should seek instruction from her first husband. For every action there will be a...”

“Shut up, you Mlecha!” Draupadi yelled in fury. But Shakuni merely grinned and ran his fingers through his greying beard.

“Pitamaha...” Draupadi’s lips trembled as she turned to the Grand Regent. Bhishma sat rigid, his gaze fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling.

Draupadi turned to the King, her hands joined in supplication. “I am your daughter-in-law, Sire.”

Dhritarashtra turned to his scribe and asked in a low whisper, “Sanjaya, where is Gandhari?”

“Acharya Drona...” Draupadi pleaded, turning to the Guru, who looked in embarrassment at Dhaumya for support.

“Guru Dhaumya...” Draupadi cried. The High Priest vanished behind a group of clergy.

“Acharya Kripa?” Draupadi asked with a sinking heart, hoping the maverick would do something to save her. He had championed the most unlikely people in the past.

An ironic laugh was his answer as got up to walk out. She gazed at him incredulously as he stopped in front of her. “Daughter, it is for you to ask your husband why he gambled you away. Ask the gamblers on both sides whether they realised they were gambling with destiny.”

“Devi Draupadi, may we get on with the business at hand without further delay?” Shakuni’s words got a few laughs from some of the Kaurava princes. “Prince Sushasana, what are you waiting for? Strip her!” he ordered, caressing the dice between his palms.

Draupadi shrieked and turned to run, but Sushasana quickly grabbed hold of the end of her sari. Her five husbands stood staring at their hands, not looking at her – puppets controlled by priests and obscure texts. ‘Krishna! You were the one who told me to marry these cowards.’ With anger scathing her heart, she cried aloud, “Krishna... Krishna...”

Sushasana tugged hard at Draupadi’s sari while she struggled to preserve her modesty. Finally, drunk and bemused, he tripped over the unending cloth and fell. Draupadi crouched on the floor, her head on her knees, yards of sari spread around her, unable to face the Sabha. Oh, shame! Was there not a man in this Sabha who would raise his voice in protest of this atrocity against a woman?

As if reminded by some higher powers, murmurs rose in the assembly, condemning Suyodhana and his loyalists. When the great priests and noble Kshatriyas remained silent, Vidhura moved to the centre of the Sabha and stood near Draupadi. For the first time in his life, the son of a
dasi
stood before the Kshatriyas and pious priests with his head raised high and addressed them in a contemptuous voice, “A question has been raised in this Sabha of noble men, by a helpless woman, about
dharma,
and all you answer her with is your silence?” His eyes blazing, Vidhura turned to his master, Lord Bhishma. “Sir, Prince Vikarna tried to answer Draupadi’s question with whatever knowledge he has. You are the Grand Regent of the Kurus, the most noble of the Kshatriyas, why do you then remain silent in the face of
adharma?
Answer this daughter-in-law of the Kurus. How could he pawn what he did not own in the first place?”

Bhishma glared at his longtime and loyal aide, who had put him in such a difficult position now. All eyes were on him. He cleared his throat and said in a voice devoid of its usual commanding timbre, “I am unclear about this point of
dharma.
It is true that Yudhishtra had already become a slave when he pawned his wife, but some Shastras say a wife is the property of her husband, so when he becomes a slave, she too is a slave. I leave it to the King’s wisdom to decide.”

Karna sprang up from his seat. “Suyodhana! These three men, Vidhura Mahasaya, Bhishma Pitamaha and Guru Drona, will always side with the sons of Pandu. You have all the rights here to do whatever we please with these slaves.”

A sudden tussle broke out among Pandavas. The normally silent Bhima shouted at Arjuna, who was trying to restrain him, “Let me go Arjuna, unhand me! Bring me some embers of fire and let me burn Yudhishtra’s hands which itch to gamble. How dare he make the purest of all women suffer like this? It is not Duryodhana who has brought misery upon us but he who always speaks of
dharma.”

At these impassioned words Suyodhana and his friends burst into laughter. The man who was considered the epitome of
dharma
was exposed for what he was, thought Suyodhana. Yudhishtra continued to stand with his head bowed.

Vidhura turned to the Crown Prince, his face flushed with anger. “Suyodhana, are you not ashamed of what is happening here? You are the man who speaks of noble conduct and the blood of the great Bharata flowing in your veins. Yet now you behave like a boor. Where are your principles and famed generosity of heart now?”

Suyodhana winced at his uncle’s words. He had never thought things would go this far. He had won his cousin’s kingdom and reduced the Pandavas to slavery. He could afford to be generous. But when he looked at his cousin Yudhishtra, standing before him, resentment rose in him like bile. When he had been shamed in Yudhishtra’s Sabha, there had been neither Vidhura nor the other learned men to support him. There had been no debate about
dharma
and
adharma.
Shaking away Shakuni’s restraining hand, Suyodhana stood up.

“Draupadi, I see your point. Yudhishtra had no right to pledge you as he had already become my slave. Neither had he any right to pledge his brothers. Let him say aloud in the Sabha of the Kurus that it was
adharma
to pledge you and his brothers. Let him say that he uttered a lie when he gleefully pledged all of you when he did not own you. Let him say he did it in the hope of winning what he does not deserve – the inheritance of Hastinapura – from me. And all of you shall denounce him and declare you do not belong to him. I shall then restore all he has lost and even consider giving my cousin Indraprastha back, as a vassal state. This is the promise of a Kshatriya. Speak! You can regain everything you have lost.”

There was an embarrassed silence in the Sabha. Even Bhima, who had been agitated a few moments before, remained silent. Suyodhana’s generous offer put Yudhishtra in a fix. His four brothers looked at him. Draupadi’s eyes glowed like jewels in her face. Surely if there was one man who had the humility to admit a grievous fault, that one was Yudhishtra?

“Tell him you were wrong, brother. Once we have Indraprastha back we can declare war against evil Duryodhana and punish him for what he has done to Draupadi,” Bhima hissed into his brother’s ear.