AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (49 page)

63
   
E
ND
OF
A
P
OEM

DRONA ELABORATED ON HIS BATTLE PLAN
for the next day. After Bhishma’s fall, despite his friend’s pleas, Karna had declined the post of Commander-in-Chief and Suyodhana had been compelled to appoint Drona as Commander of the Kaurava forces.

“Father, Mother has given me her blessing.”

Suyodhana turned to see his young son standing behind him. Kumara looked glorious in his battle attire. Suyodhana embraced his son. Was he doing the right thing by taking this untested boy into fighting such a ruthless war?

“And here, Kumara’s forces will meet Abhimanyu’s battalion head on. If Arjuna’s son tries to launch an attack on Kripa’s
akhshouni...”

Drona’s voice hammered in Suyodhana’s brain. He wanted to protest but his pride silenced him. He knew Lakshmana Kumara was not Abhimanyu’s equal in battle, but how could he say so without hurting the boy’s pride and his own? Suyodhana’s mind was a knot of worries as the Guru outlined his war strategy to his generals. If something went wrong, how would he face Bhanu? How would he face himself? But surely, nothing would go wrong?

***

“This is a stupid war.” Shakuni sat in his tent, his hands restless. His eyes gleamed in the golden light of a burning torch. His son sat close by, listening. A moth buzzed around the torch and dived into the flame. An acrid smell filled the air.

“This war is the most gruesome fighting I have seen, Father,” Uluka remarked, shaking his head.

“This is a sham war. It is neither gruesome enough, nor bloody enough. Nothing is happening. These Indians stick to some ancient rules which make battles a joke.” Shakuni rattled his dice together and threw them on the floor. “What we need is raw emotion, wounds that will never heal. These Indians must carry the scars for centuries.”

“What do you suggest, Father?” Uluka asked.

“Important people must die, not just foot soldiers,” Shakuni said softly, looking at his sons. “Sleep well, for tomorrow we change everything.” He took the torch and thrust it head first into the sand. The flame broke into a thousand sparks and died with a hiss, drowning them in darkness. Shakuni lay awake long after his sons had fallen asleep.

***

“Prince Kumara, it is your father...you must help him! Hurry, Abhimanyu has trapped him,” Shakuni shouted from his chariot.

Kumara looked around, trying to locate his father’s chariot and banner. Where was the white flag with the coiled serpents? Through the cloud of smoke and dust he finally he saw it at a distance. Abhimanyu’s forces had encircled his father’s chariot. Guru Drona had warned him of such a move. How foolish he had been to stop for the wounded men around him! His father would die because of him.

“Take me there,” Kumara screamed to his charioteer, pointing to the fluttering white flag. He braced himself as the chariot rumbled on at great speed. Arrows rained around him and a couple pierced his armour. “Faster, faster...” he yelled. The bow he held was heavy and his armour was suffocating him. Kumara had no clear idea of what he had to do, only that he had to save his father somehow.

When he reached the spot, his father was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Uluka, Shakuni’s son, was fighting Abhimanyu from his chariot. Uluka’s had a similar flag, with one coiled serpent, but it also had the small emblem of Gandhara in its left corner.

“Hey, you coward! Why are you running away?” Abhimanyu yelled at the fast vanishing Uluka.

Kumara realized he had made a grave error and placed himself in harm’s way.

“Prince, see who we have here,” a soldier said, jumping into Kumara’s chariot.

Abhimanyu turned and his eyes grew wide with surprise. “What are you doing here, Kumara?” he asked as he threw down his bow and unsheathed his sword.

Another soldier jumped into Kumara’s chariot. With a force he had never imagined he possessed, Kumara kicked the first soldier. The second one charged at him but Kumara cut him down with his sword. Clutching his lacerated stomach, the man collapsed onto the chariot floor. Kumara looked at the river of blood in a daze. He threw down his sword, saying in horror, “I have killed a man!”

Kumara’s charioteer tried to leap down and escape but Abhimanyu cut off his head with a slash of his sword. Then he advanced towards his childhood friend and grabbed Kumara by the hair.

“Abhimanyu, are you going to kill me?” Kumara asked softly,

“This is war, my friend. I am sorry, Kumara. The world will miss a poet.” With one clean sweep of his sword, Abhimanyu severed Kumara’s head. It dropped to the ground and rolled away. Arjuna’s son thrust his sword into the head and raised it for the world to see. “Behold! I have killed Duryodhana’s son and heir!”

All around him, conches sounded and drums boomed to mark his feat. His father and uncles arrived to congratulate him. He had made them proud. Abhimanyu stood in the middle of the battlefield with Kumara’s head raised on the tip of his sword. He felt a twinge of pity for the friend he had killed, but the exhilarating victory and pride in his father’s eyes soon swept away such feelings.

He was about to walk away when he saw something strange. What was wrong with Iravan’s severed head? He blinked. The head had somehow changed into Kumara’s, then some Rakshasa’s, before changing back to Iravan. The head kept changing its features. Abhimanyu’s throat went dry. He stared in utter horror and disbelief. He was looking at his own severed head on the spike.

***

“I want him dead,” Bhanumati said fiercely, her eyes and lips red and swollen from crying.

Suyodhana did not raise his head. He yearned for the release of tears but they refused to come.

“You killed him! You told me you would protect him; that no harm would befall him. I want to see your Subhadra weep like me. Go! Get me Abhimanyu’s head! Give me your word as a man that you will kill him.”

“Bhanu, it is a war... your son died like a warrior.”

“I don’t want words, I want Abhimanyu’s head. Kill him mercilessly, just as he killed my son.”

“Devi Bhanumati, it was I, as Commander, who failed to protect your son.” Drona came forward with head bowed.

“Guru, do not protect my husband. It was not your fault but his. He failed to protect his only son. But we are nothing to him. How does it matter that our son is dead? My Kumara never wanted to fight anyone, never wanted to be a warrior. He was a gentle soul. But he went to make his father proud. Now he is dead. My son did not want the throne. For whose sake does my husband fight but his own?

“Abhimanyu will not see tomorrow’s sunset, Devi. This is Drona’s word. They have broken yet another rule of war – not to attack a disarmed man. We will not rest until we have vanquished the amoral Pandavas.”

“What good will that do my son, Guru? My Kumara is never going to come back.”

“His sacrifice will not have been in vain. Place your trust in me.”

“Guru, you are too kind, but why does my husband remain silent?”

“Bhanu, we must go after Arjuna and Yudhishtra first.”

“Oh, so it pains you to think of killing Subhadra’s son? I do not care whether you or Yudhishtra wins, but I want the man who killed my son dead.” Bhanumati turned away, sobbing.

Suyodhana caught her by her wrist and drew her to him. “Bhanu, Abhimanyu will not see the end of tomorrow.”

“You have turned me into a monster, Suyodhana. Poor Subhadra. I feel pity for her. I feel pity for all the mothers who will lose their sons in this horrible war.” Bhanu wept on his chest.

Suyodhana ran his fingers through her dishevelled hair. “Abhimanyu will die tomorrow. Never fear, our son will be avenged,” he whispered in her ear.

Bhanumati’s tears fell like winter rain.

***

64
   
W
HEEL
OF
D
EATH

HIS ARMY STRETCHED TO THE HORIZON.
Suyodhana looked at the elephant corps, alternating with the cavalry, infantry and chariots, moving in concentric circles. Mounted archers, in perfect synchronization, like the spokes of a chariot wheel, darted off to attack enemy battalions. He had only heard of the famed
chakravyuha
formation. It was as beautiful and sinister as a King Cobra uncoiling. Drona, as Commander-in-Chief, had made all the difference to the war. It was no longer fought by a patriarch to teach his successors the lessons of war, but by a ruthless strategist who did not care about expending lives. The war had taken a deadly turn.

Karna’s chariot went past Suyodhana like lightning, tilted at a crazy angle on its right wheels. Karna yelled a warning but his charioteer merely smiled and told him to watch his target. It would have been unthinkable for any ordinary charioteer to talk back to the King of Anga, but Shalya was no ordinary man. He was King of Madra and the best charioteer in all of Bharatavarsha. He had volunteered to drive Karna, and Suyodhana had overruled Drona to allow it. It had not helped that Shalya was Madri’s brother and hence the Pandava twins’ uncle. Shalya considered himself a better charioteer than even Krishna. Suyodhana smiled at Shalya’s skill and the irony of a Kshatriya charioteer for a Suta.

“Brace and thrust!” Drona’s voice boomed and the circle shifted into an egg shape in a trice.

No man in his right senses dared to attack a full-blown
chakravyuha
formation. The best strategy for the opposing Commander was to wait for the storm to pass. Like typhoons,
chakravyuhas
lost energy after the initial thrust. It was a difficult task to keep such a huge formation perfectly synchronized. If someone managed to break in, all hell could break loose. The change of shape now was a sign that someone was trying to break in. Only a reckless or foolish Commander would order a frontal attack on the
chakravyuha.
Arjuna was no fool, neither was he reckless, so what was happening?

“Disperse.” Drona’s voice was calm but it sent shivers through the Kaurava ranks. Disperse? Break the
chakravyuha?
Was the Guru in his right mind?

“Guru Drona!” Suyodhana shouted but the Guru’s face was set in granite. Suyodhana turned and saw Abhimanyu’s chariot rushing towards them at great speed. An arrow came flying towards Suyodhana. He deflected it with his mace. The
chakravyuha
had been breached! Behind Abhimanyu, the Pandava cavalry charged at full gallop, sending the
chakravyuha
into disarray.

On Suyodhana’s left, Karna’s chariot came rushing to a halt in a cloud of dust. A finger length more and it would have crashed onto his. Shalya grinned. Karna’s face was creased with worry. On Suyodhana’s right, Aswathama’s chariot raced up. Karna jumped into Suyodhana’s chariot and shot an arrow with a single, fluid movement. It lodged in Abhimanyu’s shoulder, drawing blood, but the young man did not bother to pull it out. His murderous stare was fixed on Suyodhana’s face and his arrow whistled past the Crown Prince’s head. Karna’s next arrow caught Abhimanyu’s other shoulder but Arjuna’s son did not even flinch. He aimed at Suyodhana’s throat.

“Formation!” Drona’s unruffled voice rose above the din and the
chakravyuha
formation closed. What was Drona doing? “Cut and close!”

One of the spokes of the formation detached itself and wound around the Pandava attacking cavalry and cut off Abhimanyu from his troops. A perfect trap! Abhimanyu had not seen the danger, his eyes fixed on Suyodhana. With a loud crack, the wheels of Abhimanyu’s chariot broke loose and fell, throwing him to the ground. Abhimanyu looked stunned. The force of the fall had broken his bow in two. The wheel pin lay on the ground with Drona’s arrow through it.

“He is all yours, Prince,” Drona said in a flat voice to Suyodhana.

Abhimanyu leapt up, drew his sword and stood in combat position. His face betrayed not a flicker of emotion as he stood calmly, his eyes coldly sweeping the Kaurava ranks. He stood alone in the Kaurava
chakravyuha,
there was no going back. Suyodhana jumped from his chariot and walked towards him. Karna, Aswathama and Jayadratha followed, swords drawn. Suyodhana could not but admire the raw courage the young man showed. How he wished Abhimanyu had been his son. The thought of his own dead son snapped Suyodhana back to reality. Abhimanyu deserved no mercy.

“Halt if you value your life,”Abhimanyu said, his voice clear and unafraid. “Four against one - is this
dharma?”

Suyodhana’s laughter held a bitter ring. “Righteousness died when your father hid behind a eunuch and shot Pitamaha.
Dharma
was buried when you murdered an unarmed Kumara. He was your friend, Abhimanyu. You betrayed him in life and in death.”

“Uncle Suyodhana, stop this whining and fight like a man!”

Jayadratha rushed at Abhimanyu, but the youngster moved away from the arc of Jayadratha’s sword and pushed him away with his shield. Jayadratha lost his balance and fell. Abhimanyu laughed. Suyodhana felt pity stir in his heart as Aswathama swung his sword. Abhimanyu tried to dodge it but the wily Brahmin warrior had anticipated it. At the last moment, he changed his swing to a thrust, cutting deeply into Abhimanyu’s shoulder. Blood eagerly followed his blade.