AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (50 page)

Abhimanyu grunted in pain. “Cowards! Fighting four to one. Shameless beasts!” he yelled, swinging his sword at Karna.

Karna blocked the blow with his shield and swung his sword at Abhimanyu. The youngster blocked it with his own sword and angry sparks flew over them. In a moment, the sword had been dislodged from Karna’s hand. Abhimanyu attacked like a whirlwind and Karna struggled to block his thrusts and blows with his shield.

It was all happening very quickly. Jayadratha had managed to walk away, his face contorted with rage and shame. Beaten by a mere boy! The King of Sindh gritted his teeth and tried to rush towards Abhimanyu, but Suyodhana restrained him. The boy was for Karna. The next moment, Suyodhana saw something wriggling in Karna’s hand. The
urumi,
the rope-like sword of the South, which Karna wore like a belt, shimmered in the sun. It rose high into the sky and then coiled itself around Abhimanyu’s sword. The boy looked stunned as Karna prised the weapon from his hand. Before he knew it, he had lost his shield as well.

Abhimanyu bent and picked up the broken chariot wheel, blood flowing from the wound in his shoulder. Karna and Aswathama walked towards him, but Abhimanyu’s gaze was fixed on Suyodhana. With a roar, he threw the chariot wheel at him. Suyodhana swung his mace and hit the flying wheel, smashing it to pieces.

“Hurry,” Drona’s voice urged. “Arjuna is trying to break in.”

“Kill me if you dare, you cowards,” Abhimanyu said, his chest heaving with exertion and pain.

“Arjuna has arrived. It is now or never,” Drona said from his chariot.

Karna and Aswathama moved another step closer and Abhimanyu took a step backwards. Karna turned to Suyodhana, a silent question hung in the air between them. It seemed so wrong, so ignoble to hack a boy to death like this. Subhadra’s pleading face came to Suyodhana’s mind. His eyes locked on the pearl necklace Abhimanyu always wore. He remembered gifting it to him when he had first held the infant Abhimanyu in his arms. This could have been his Kumara. ‘No! He killed my son without mercy. He put his head on a pole for everyone to jeer at... ‘

“Finish him!” Suyodhana ordered.

Jayadratha, who had moved behind Abhimanyu, acted in a flash. He grabbed Abhimanyu’s hair and slit his throat with his sword.

“No!” Arjuna’s yell made them all look up. He and Krishna had managed to break the
chakravyuha
but he was too late. Jumping from his chariot and throwing down his bow, Arjuna rushed to his son’s lifeless body. “Guru, why did you do this?” he asked, his eyes full of tears.

Drona looked at Arjuna, pity in his heart, but he had given Bhanumati his word. The war was far from over.

Suyodhana knew what it felt like to lose a son. “You deserve nothing better, Arjuna. Your son killed mine without giving him a chance to defend himself.” Karna, Aswathama and Jayadratha moved to stand beside Suyodhana.

“You evil men, you killed my son! Four against one. Cowards!” Arjuna spat on the ground in contempt. “You call yourself warriors?”

Jayadratha laughed and said Abhimanyu had got what he deserved.

Arjuna gently put down his son’s lifeless body. “Jayadratha, it was a terrible mistake to spare your life. You are worthless and I should have killed you the day you sneaked into Draupadi’s tent. But you will not see tomorrow’s sunset. If you do, I will jump into a pyre and burn myself in its flames. This is my oath before God.”

Drums rolled and horns blared, making the vow known to the world. Jayadratha turned pale. He could almost see the finger of death pointing at him.

“Arjuna, bent on suicide instead of facing a Suta?” Karna mocked.

Without a word Arjuna picked up the body of his son and walked to his chariot. Suyodhana felt his throat choke with pain. Of course Arjuna would tell her how they had killed her son. ‘Subhadra, what have I done to your son? Oh God, what have I done? No! There are no wrongs in this bloody war.’ He had kept his word to his wife by killing Subhadra’s son. With it, everything to do with Subhadra had died a violent death. He could now face Bhanu with a clean heart, he told himself, trying to pacify his tortured mind.

The Guru blew his conch, signalling the end of battle for the day. Instead of elation, the weariness of war blanketed Suyodhana’s mind as they walked back to their camp in silence. He coud not bring himself to join in the celebrations of his excited men. Subhadra’s face refused to leave his troubled mind. ‘I have become Duryodhana, but did I have any choice?’ he asked himself.

Silence shrouded the Pandava camp. Tomorrow it would be their turn to avenge blood with blood.

*****

65
   
W
ARRIOR’S
H
ONOUR

UTHAYAN WAS ECSTATIC.
Finally Guru Dhaumya had requested the help of the Southern Confederate. They were no longer part players who scoured the countryside for food and supplies for the Pandava army. It was demeaning to act like bandits and terrorize poor villagers. Yet he had done his duty well. It was not going to be an easy task to break the defences set by Drona and kill Jayadratha. No wonder Arjuna was considered a hero. In comparison, his life looked dull and boring. Uthayan had to do something he could be proud of.

“In the name of Lord Vishnu, I vow to kill Karna tomorrow. If the Suta lives to see tomorrow’s sunset, I, Uthayan Cheralathan will jump into a pyre and give up my worthless life.” Uthayan felt elated as loud cheering rose around him. Drummers beat a frenzied rhythm and bards blared their horns. His vassal Kings bowed before his courage. Priests applied sandal paste on his forehead and garlanded him with red flowers. The bards began singing paeans about him and his illustrious dynasty. A vow of such magnitude could only be heard with awe and respect.

***

Suyodhana knew Jayadratha’s safety was more chimeric than real. In his mind he clearly understood Arjuna’s anguish and rage over Abhimanyu’s death. He had felt the same emotions seething like a cauldron in his soul when Kumara had been killed.

A strange mist had rolled in from the rushes of the Ganga. Visibility was down to a few feet. “
Shakatavyuha
!” Drona’s command brought Suyodhana back to the gruesome battlefield. All around him cavalry and elephants were assembling in a box cart formation. Where was Arjuna’s chariot? By promising to kill Jayadratha before sunset, surely Arjuna had overreached himself? There was no way Arjuna could pierce the
shakatavyuha.
It was a formation designed for defence, with a hundred circles of cavalry, chariots and elephants. Jayadratha stood beside Suyodhana in the centre of the formation, pale with fear and tension. ‘Hold on, friend. In a short while, we will watch Arjuna commit suicide,’ Suyodhana said silently to himself. There was yet another challenger who had made a rash promise to immolate himself. But Karna could take care of himself. Uthayan was no match for him.

***

Screams, challenges, dust, blood, arrows flying thick and fast – it was a scene from hell. At any moment now, Drona would sound his conch to mark the end of the battle for the day. Despite ferocious fighting, the Southern Confederate armies had not been able to penetrate the
shakatavyuha.
The casualties on both sides were heavy but the Southern forces continued to come on, like moths attracted to a flame, caring nothing about certain death. But Karna continued to hold them off. The time for celebration was fast approaching.

A bloodcurdling scream made Suyodhana turn, his heart skipping a beat. Karna! Uthayan was in Karna’s chariot, but where was Karna? He saw the Asura King’s sword lifted high, ready to strike. How had the Confederate Commander pierced the formidable box-cart formation?

“Quick! Take me to Karna,” Suyodhana prodded his charioteer.

The sun had set and his soldiers were already celebrating their victory. Arjuna had lost. But Suyodhana felt numb. Was Karna alive? What meaning had victory without Karna? Crores of armoured elephants blocked his path, hiding Karna’s chariot from his sight. He could hear Drona’s victory call and his troops taunting Arjuna.

“Go around the elephants,” Suyodhana urged his charioteer. Why was the fool taking so much time?

When the last of the elephants had moved, he saw Karna standing in his chariot. What had happened to Uthayan?

“Move! The King is wounded. Let him pass,” Karna shouted to his troops.

A wounded man staggered through the ranks, a deep gash in his back oozing blood onto his mahogany skin. Karna’s soldiers parted for Uthayan to walk to safety. The Southern Confederate leader had lost his final war. He dragged himself to his camp.

Suyodhana reached Karna’s chariot. How had Uthayan hurt his back? Surely Karna would never do such a dishonourable thing, even in self-defence?

“No Suyodhana, banish the thought,” Karna said, guessing the question in his friend’s eyes. “It was a fair fight. Unfortunately, he turned his back at the last moment, when the blade was already descending. It was not fitting. He was a brave adversary.”

“The wound is not deep enough to kill him. Tomorrow, I am sure you will give him a death befitting the brave warrior he is.”

“No, he is already dead. See what is happening.”

Uthayan had arrived in his own ranks. A Confederate soldier spat on his face. Like a ritual, the other soldiers spat on their King’s face, calling him a coward. The man who had once been their Supreme Overlord, stood with his head hung in shame, covered in spittle.

“What is this, Karna?”

“He has betrayed the pride of their race by turning his back during a fight. The wound on his back has branded him a coward. His body may still be alive but his soul is dead.”

“Karna, is this how they treat a leader who was courageous enough to penetrate the
shakatavyuha
and take you by surprise?”

“It is the custom in their part of the country.”

“What a war!”

“It is terrible, but we won today, Suyodhana. I only regret I could not make this Arjuna’s last day on earth.”

“Such a rash promise!” said his friend, a rare smile on his lined face.

“Why is the camp suddenly so silent?”

“Where...is Jayadratha?” A knot formed in Suyodhana’s gut. “Turn back the chariot. Hurry!” he urged his charioteer.

Why were his men standing with their heads hanging? What had happened? Some soldiers were lighting torches. What was that crowd doing in the middle? And why was the enemy camp cheering? Suyodhana jumped down from his chariot before it could come to a halt and rushed into the crowd. “Where is Jayadratha? What has happened?” he yelled.

One of the men pointed to the ground. He knew what he would see. No, it could not be. It was already dark. The sun had set. Battle had ceased. Surely Arjuna would never do it. He was not so dishonourable. But Jayadratha’s headless body lay on the ground, Arjuna’s arrow embedded in his chest. ‘Oh, Sushala! What can your brother say to you?’

“I taught him better. Today I feel ashamed to say Arjuna was my disciple.” Drona’s voice was calm but he could not hide the pain he felt. “Suyodhana, I could not save Jayadratha.”

“Guru, it was not your fault. They cheated to win, just as they did with Pitamaha Bhishma,” Karna said.

Drona put his hands on Suyodhana’s shoulders. “Do you know what Krishna said when I confronted him? That there had been no sunset, only a solar eclipse, which he had created with his powers of illusion. They had the nerve to argue that they killed Jayadratha a fraction of a moment before the sun set.”

“A convenient excuse for Arjuna to break the rules of war,” Aswathama hissed.

“Carry Jayadratha’s body to be cremated with full honours due to a King. Where is his head?”

“While the Guru was arguing with Arjuna, Dhristadyumna carried it away like a trophy.”

“This war sickens me,” Suyodhana turned away, his heart heavy.

“No, Suyodhana. This is not the time for despondency. They will do anything for victory and it is our
dharma
to vanquish such unscrupulous devils,” said Karna, his eyes fixed on his friend’s face.

Drona blew his conch to assemble the troops. Then he announced, “Thrice have they broken the ancient rules of war. They use blatant lies to justify their shameless acts. Our enemy will stoop to any level. For our country, our future, for humanity and
dharma,
we must win. From now on we will not end the battle at sunset. The war will end when we kill the last Pandava.
Garudvyuha!”

The soldiers rushed to take their positions in the eagle-shaped formation. At Drona’s command, they rushed with terrifying speed and swooped down on the Pandavas. Iravan’s dead eyes watched the dreadful slaughter that followed without emotion, indifferent and unmoving like a
stithapranja.

***

In another part of Kurukshetra, a strange ritual was unfolding. Uthayan had failed to kill Karna by sunset. He had turned his back when it had mattered the most. His life was not worth living anymore. He had no philosopher-friend to explain the mysteries of
dharma
and dissuade him from keeping his word. One last time he asked his ancestors’ pardon for being a coward. The bards lamented his shame, a shame shared by all his men, which they would carry for generations. Dressed in a loincloth, his face blackened with ash, Uthayan entered his funeral pyre. In his last moments, Uthayan prayed history would judge him kindly.