AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (40 page)

BHISHMA STARED AT THE EMACIATED
figure standing before him. He had expected Vidhura to age but nothing had prepared him for the frail and hunched man standing before him with bowed head.

“To what do I owe the honour of this visit, Vidhura?” he asked gruffly, trying to hide the distress he felt. His words sounded harsh even to his own ears.

“Sir, forgive me, but I did not have the strength to see you like this,” Vidhura answered, looking at the floor.

“I am just a forgotten old man, caged in my room, unwanted by my grand-nephews and my country.” Bhishma wished Vidhura, that man of unfaltering reason and intellect, would protest, but his former Prime Minister stood in stricken silence. Bhishma shifted the manuscripts on his table listlessly. Only a few palm leaves containing verses from the
Upanishads
remained. Once there had seemed too few hours in the day to get through what lay on his work-laden table.

Vidhura’s heart filled with sorrow. Could any country prosper when it dishonoured the noble and the brave? “Our country is crumbling,” he said in a low voice.

“We don’t deserve anything better,” Bhishma said, slamming his palm on the table.

“Sir, why did you not stop Suyodhana from pawning the country to Yuyutsu?” Vidhura asked the question that had troubled him for a long time.

“One Prince pawns his wife, another pawns his country to a merchant. What is the difference between the fools?” Bhishma asked, standing up. Despite his years, he still had the powerful frame of the warrior.

“There is going to be a war,” said Vidhura softly, almost to himself.

“So be it. At its end, there will be one fool left instead of two.”

“Drought and famine loom large. People are starving to death,” Vidhura said, knowing Bhishma knew it better than anyone else.

“What am I supposed to do about that? There is a King on the throne; there are
mahatmas,
sages and
avatars
living and preaching throughout this land. Ours is a holy land, is it not? We fight bloody wars to uphold
dharma.
Let the common man die. We can offer them
moksha
in the afterlife.” Bhishma’s lips curved into a bitter smile.

“We must stop the war.” Vidhura finally raised his head and looked Bhishma in the eye.

“Do you know a way to do that? For I do not. Both sides are bent on destroying each other. I have done what I could for as long as I could. Enough! Let there be war. Let no fool, including old ones like me, be spared. Let a new Bharata rise from the ashes of our funeral pyres.”

“I have met Kunti,” Vidhura said in a low voice that was almost lost in the echoing vastness of the chamber.

“Then you had better hurry to meet Gandhari as well, or else it could become another cause for war,” Bhishma said with a tired smile.

“She told me something shocking.”

Bhishma grunted.

“About Karna.”

“I do not wish to hear anything about that Suta.”

“Karna is not a Suta, nor the son of a charioteer.”

“I always knew he was a bastard. It shows in his arrogance.”

“Sir, he is the bastard son of Devi Kunti.”

Bhishma became as still as stone. Only the pulse throbbing in his temple suggested he was aware of what had been said. Then he turned away saying, “It is a lie. Kunti is up to something.”

“Karna was born before Kunti’s marriage to Pandu. His father belonged to the Suryavamsha dynasty of Sri Ramachandra.” Vidhura explained the entire sequence of events.

Reluctantly, after many interpolations and questions, Bhishma took a deep breath and said, “This changes everything, Vidhura. I have always been harsh on Karna. Now it seems he is the eldest of my grand-nephews, but that does not make him a Pandava. He is the illegitimate son of a daughter-in-law of the house. Of course, there are
shastras
which sanction that, but the husband is required to acknowledge his wife’s children begotten before marriage. That has not happened here.”

“Sir, this is the only chance for peace. Make Karna the next heir and no one will be able to question it,” Vidhura begged earnestly.

“My son, you do not know Suyodhana or Yudhishtra as I do. Nor do you know Karna. And you have not considered Yuyutsu. He too, is an illegitimate son of Dhritarashtra. His father has accepted him publicly as his son. He could well stake a claim to the throne. But I doubt Karna will be prepared to betray Suyodhana.”

“Who will say no to the throne of Hastinapura, Sir? Karna will agree. You only need to suggest it.”

“Vidhura, for a wise man, you are being short-sighted. The issue of the inheritance has to be settled once and for all. War is the best way to do that.”

“Sir, a war at this time would be a terrible thing. And what of the thousands who will die for no fault of their own?”

“It is the
dharma
of Kshatriyas to fight.”

“The rains have failed for the third year.”

Bhishma went to stand by the window. “I will lead Suyodhana’s army but I will ensure that none of the Pandavas die. We can use the drought and famine conditions to force peace. In three or four days, supplies will start running out. Then we can work out a truce.”

“In three or four days thousands will have died, Sir.”

“War is not about individuals. People are bound to die, but I will ensure the Kuru dynasty survives,” Bhishma insisted, annoyed that Vidhura had failed to see his deeper point.

“There are other enmities that also run deep, Sir. Dhristadyumna, Drupada’s son, has vowed to kill Drona.”

“Nobody can touch Drona.”

“Karna and Arjuna are itching for a fight. Once the war starts, you will be unable to control it,” Vidhura said with utter certainty. He could feel the knot of fear in his stomach.

“Hmm, you have a point. Karna has an impulsive nature. I saw it at Virata. We must find a way to keep him off the battlefield.”

“Sir, please reconsider... a war will be disastrous for all.” Vidhura looked at the old warrior by the window and knew he had lost. As long as Bhishma breathed, there would be no compromise.

“Getting sentimental in your old age, Vidhura? It will be a skirmish, a display of arms to demonstrate to these fools the foolishness of war.” Bhishma walked up to Vidhura and placed both hands on his frail shoulders.

Vidhura took both Bhishma’s hands in his own and pressed them together. He stood still, praying silently. Bhishma felt sorrow fill his heart as he looked at Vidhura’s bent head. He was just a trembling shadow of the fine, upright man he had once been. Bhishma saw his own reflection in Vidhura’s eyes. They both looked so insignificant now. Was he starting something they could not control? No...he had years of experience in leading armies. He knew how to pace a war. Only that Suta…perhaps not a Suta...had to be kept away from the battlefield.

Vidhura paused at the door, remembering something important. “Sir, be wary of Shikandi.”

“Ha, what can that eunuch do to me?” Bhishma asked with genuine amusement in his still rich voice.

Vidhura hesitated a moment and then walked away with tired steps.

‘Poor man, he is far too sincere for these times,’ Bhishma thought as he took a sword off the wall and swung it gracefully. His old limbs were still supple. He chuckled to himself. It would be good to be back in action. Bhishma felt alive again.

***

When Suyodhana entered the Sabha, the air was thick with anticipation. Bhishma had called the Sabha to make an important announcement. Suyodhana sat down near Karna. Why was Bhishma avoiding his gaze? His father looked worried.

The murmuring stopped as Bhishma rose to speak. His voice lacked its usual power and he sounded weary. “I have nurtured this country with my blood. Vidhura and I toiled day and night so that our people could sleep peacefully. Alas, now my grand-nephews want to fight each other. Both sides have committed unspeakable atrocities. I have failed as a teacher and grandsire to them.”

Suyodhana felt overcome by shame. He should never have behaved as he had with Draupadi, no matter what she deserved. What had revenge gained him? Then sudden resentment swamped his mind. How could Bhishma equate the atrocities of the Pandavas with his foolishness? His action had been directed at one woman, who had shamed him; the Pandavas had killed thousands of innocents.

“Since war has become inevitable, I am forced to take sides. On one hand there is Arjuna, who is dear to me. I admire his humility and skill with arms. There is Yudhishtra, who is saintly in his demeanour. I owe much to Draupadi for not speaking out when Suyodhana shamed her in public.”

Suyodhana’s heart sank. Bhishma was going to side with the Pandavas. He would have to fight his venerable grandsire. And if Bhishma himself was partial to the Pandavas, there was little question that Drona would side with them also. Aswathama would then go with his father. He had only Karna.

“I have to consider Suyodhana too. He has his faults. His arrogance and temper have earned him many enemies. What he did to Draupadi was unpardonable. Yet I do not judge people on one incident. How is Suyodhana as a ruler? The treasury is almost empty and we are staring at imminent famine. That is not the mark of a great administrator. But his mistakes are those of inexperience. One can gain experience, acquire wisdom and correct mistakes. He has corrected one such mistake by not giving in to Yuyutsu’s demands.”

Suyodhana watched Bhishma intently. What was he hinting at?

“What cannot be acquired is goodness of heart. Suyodhana has proved himself the better human being through numerous acts, some of which you may perhaps not be aware of. The elevation of the son of a Suta as King of Anga; treating Ekalavya as an equal; his misguided but well-intentioned acts to bring equality to all men and women across the country; his open stand against what he considers unfair, all prove his goodness of heart. If he allows me to do so, I can teach him administration. What I need not teach him is compassion towards the downtrodden and a sense of fairness and justice.”

Suyodhana’s hands were wet with perspiration. Bhishma’s next words fell as gently as winter rain. “Son, will you not compromise with your cousins, since I ask it of you? Will you not share a small part of this kingdom in order to avoid bloodshed?”

Suyodhana wavered. He was at a loss for an answer. Gaining victory in war was not going to be easy. Neither was he sure who would decide to defect to the other side. By compromising, he could keep Hastinapura and most of the country. Finally, he looked at the patriarch and said, “Pitamaha, can you vouch that Dhaumya will not impose his laws in the Pandava part of the kingdom?”

“No one can predict the future, son.”

“In that case I would be forsaking half my subjects.”

“If you lose the war, you will be forsaking all your subjects.”

“I will not lose.
Dharma
is with me.”

Bhishma shook his head. Why did people always need to take the hard road to learn life’s lessons? Sighing, he pronounced his decision: “I will fight against the Pandavas.”

Suyodhana was not sure he had heard correctly. He looked at Bhishma in disbelief and then fell to his knees, touching his forehead to the floor in reverence before the patriarch. He could hear Dhritarashtra’s jubilant voice and people shouting in excitement.

Drona stood up. “It will be a great honour if Lord Bhishma would permit me to fight by his side.”

It took a few minutes for the Sabha to comprehend the implications of Drona’s simple statement. They had expected a sizzling speech from the Guru denouncing Suyodhana. Deafening cheers rose from all sides, drowning a few murmurs of surprise. Aswathama stared at his father in amazement, his heart thudding with happiness.

Before Duryodhana could express his gratitude, a boisterous laugh resounded through the Sabha. Kripa walked in and went straight to his brother-in-law. “A sudden change of heart, Drona?”

The Guru stared at Kripa in distaste and said coldly, “I am merely doing my duty.”

“Oh, I thought you were trying to repay an undeserved fee,” Kripa chuckled. He turned to Suyodhana. “Will you recruit an old street dog into your army?”

Suyodhana grasped the old master’s hands. He suddenly remembered the early days when Kripa had taught the young Kuru Princes, before Drona had come to replace him... How unpredictable the winds of war were! He had come to the Sabha with little hope after Yuyutsu’s defection, yet those he had always considered to be Pandava supporters were now flocking to his banner.

“How about the Yadavas?” Kripa asked.

“Yadavas? Krishna hates me. The entire Yadava army will be fighting against us.”

“Hmm, you think so?” Kripa said, and then called, “Kritavarma!”

The tall Yadava General entered and bowed to the King and Bhishma. Kritavarma addressed Bhishma in a clear voice. “Sir, the entire Narayana Sena has come to fight for
dharma.
Allow us to serve under you in your army.”

Such bizarre things were happening! Suyodhana was at a loss for words. Krishna had lost control over his own army and they had defected to his side? Was there a trap here?

“General Kritavarma, is Krishna aware of your decision?” Bhishma asked.

“Sir, Lord Balarama himself asked me to follow my conscience and Krishna gave the Narayana Sena the option to choose. The majority chose to come with me.”

“And Krishna did not object?” Suyodhana asked, still bemused at the turn of events.

“When I informed him of my decision to side with you, all he said was, ‘Each one according to his own
dharma’.”

Suyodhana stared at Kritavarma. What was it about Krishna that he could not fathom? Krishna was an enigma.

“Where is Lord Balarama?” Bhishma asked.

“Sir, he is walking as a mendicant through the little-known pathways of our land, heartbroken. He has relinquished the throne.”

Why had his Guru not sided with him, wondered Suyodhana. When so many great men had decided to fight on his side, thinking it was the right choice, why had only Balarama remained neutral?

Bhishma cleared his throat. “The kingdoms of Pragjyotisha, Mahishmati, Avanti, Madhaydesa, Bahlikas, Kamboja, Sakas, Trilingas, Tusharas and many others, have offered alliances. The friendship of Anga, Gandhara and Sindhudesa, etc., remain firm; they will always stand by us. The kingdoms of the Southern Confederate, like Chera, Chola and Pandya, are expected to ally themselves with the Pandavas. Magadha also.”