AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (30 page)

“I got a letter yesterday. She wrote it at least three or four days before but only sent it when the Yadavas arrived. Now we know where to look for her.”

“If it was indeed a Yadava, then it isn’t going to be easy rescuing her. She might have met him at Dwaraka and fallen in love. If we make a mistake, it will mean battle with the Yadavas,” Aswathama warned.

“Battle! Brahmin, my daughter’s honour is at stake. She has not absconded with anyone. You and your politics! Let me go in search of Lakshmana. If I start a war, so be it. I will hunt down the bastard who dared touch my daughter. I don’t care whether he is a Yadava, a Gandharva or God.”

Ekalavya did not wait to hear the Brahmin’s objections. He had to drag whoever had harmed his Princess to Hastinapura and then tear him limb from limb. The Nishada galloped off along the royal highway towards Dwaraka, hoping against hope that he was not too late, that he would find Lakshmana before the devil had... no, he could not bear to even think about it.

*****

34
   
V
ANARAPUTRA

“FOOL! DO YOU EVEN KNOW
what you have done?” Krishna was furious.

Samba chewed on a blade of grass nonchalantly while Jambavati stood between her angry husband and her unrepentant son.

“What is there to be so angry about, Father? I liked the girl so I took her. Have you not done the same in your youth?” Samba retorted.

“How dare you speak to me this way?”

“You have 16,008 wives and you are giving me advice?” Samba shook with laughter.

“Samba, apologise to your father. Beg for mercy,” Jambavati said quickly before Krishna could react.

When Krishna had killed the Narakasura years before, he had freed 16,000 women from the harem. The priests had ordered that, as widows, the women had to commit
sati.
As an act of compassion, Krishna had brought them to Dwaraka to save them from such a horrible fate. Except for eight, the others were his wives only in the sense that he had given them protection. How dared Samba use it to justify his own loathsome actions?

“Jambavati, move away. This brute does not deserve to live.” Krishna moved threateningly towards his son.

Jambavati, arms outstretched, pleaded with tears in her eyes. “Prabhu, forgive him. He is your son.”

“Do you see any remorse for what he has done, Jambavati? He has no conscience or feelings of guilt. What have you done with the girl?”

“Oh, I left her in the forest. I had a good time. When I left, she was feigning sleep. Don’t I know these girls…” Samba said with a leer.

“Fool! Do you think Duryodhana will remain silent? Do you think your Uncle Balarama will let you go free? If my brother decides to behead you, I will be there to cheer him on. Jambavati, stop bawling. I must kill this viper.” So saying, Krishna whipped out his disc.

“You do what you must, Prabhu. Behead him with your own hands. After all, we are mere Vanaras. It is my fate that my husband is going to kill our only son. Kill me too, Prabhu,” Jambavati cried.

Krishna watched helplessly as his wife beat her breasts and wailed in a loud voice. His other wives stood at the door, agog with curiosity. Krishna burned with shame at this public humiliation. His son would certainly bring death and disaster to the tribe. Samba had manipulated him again. Oh, the indignity of falling at Duryodhana’s feet, thought Krishna. What had he done to deserve such a son?

“Your son has only one way to save his head,” Krishna said, his voice faltering as he saw the smile on his son’s lips. “He must marry Duryodhana’s daughter.”

“Why, when I have already enjoyed her?”

Krishna pushed away Jambavati’s restraining arms and caught Samba by the neck. The youngster was no match for his father. Krishna pressed the sharp edge of his disc on his son’s throat and hissed, “You are worse than any Rakshasa I have ever slain.”

At last Samba’s eyes went wide with fear. “Forgive me, Father. I will do as you say. I will marry her. Save me from my Uncle Balarama and Prince Duryodhana. I will obey you, Father.”

His son was quaking in fear. Coward! Disgusted, Krishna threw Samba to the floor. He grabbed his father’s legs, weeping. Jambavati fell at Krishna’s feet, pleading for her son’s life. Finally, Krishna’s clenched fist relaxed. He curtly told mother and son to rise from the floor and stop their wailing. He had no idea how he would avoid a conflict with Duryodhana. This was not the time for battle, not with the Pandavas away. He would lose face by begging Duryodhana, but there was no other way.

“Stay here. Let me talk to Balarama.” With a heavy heart, Krishna left the chamber. Had he paused a moment to listen, he could perhaps have saved the Yadavas and their city from total annihilation.

The moment Krishna left, Samba said to his mother, “My father and his empty threats! Why should I marry that girl? What wrong have I done? She was asking for it... the way she dressed, the way she danced... I will stay away from him for a few days. Send me word when his anger subsides.”

Samba vanished into the night without waiting for his mother’s reply.

*****

35
   
T
HE
W
RETCHED

PAIN. SHE COULD SMELL BLOOD
, smell the dryness of the earth on which she lay. She could smell him on her and gagged. It hurt where he had hit her. She bit her swollen lips and moaned. Her tears had dried up long ago. She heard the sound of hooves getting closer. Someone was coming in search of her. She wanted to crawl behind the nearest bush and die there. She tried to get up, to cover her shame with her hands, and drag herself from the world’s unforgiving gaze. ‘No one should see me like this,’ Lakshmana whimpered. ‘I want to die. I want to die before anyone gets here and sees my shame.’

Someone covered her with a shawl. She seized it, covering even her fingertips. Karna’s face was set in a grim mask as he lifted up her shuddering body. ‘Oh, he knows I am dirty,’ Lakshmana sobbed silently as she buried her face in Karna’s chest. The cold touch of his armour was somehow soothing. He lowered her onto the chariot floor and she lay there, coiled into a ball. Thankfully, he did not ask any questions. The chariot turned towards Hastinapura. How would she ever face her parents, her brother, the world?

When the chariot finally slowed and halted, Lakshmana heard a familiar voice. Uncle Ekalavya! Her heart leapt joyfully before sorrow overwhelmed her again. How could she even look at him?

There was a brief argument between Karna and Ekalavya. Lakshmana trembled when a hand touched her shoulder. “My Princess...forgive me...” Ekalavya’s voice was hoarse with pain.

Lakshmana’s tears broke like a summer flood. “You are too late.”

Then came the question she feared the most. “Who did this to you?”

The name was cursed! But Ekalavya would not leave her alone. He put his arm around her shoulder gently and lifted her chin with his other hand. “Princess…tell me who did this to you.”

Lakshmana looked away and whispered, “Samba, son of Krishna.”

Ekalavya stood up and drew his sword. Through her sobs she could just hear him say, “Princess, you will have him before sunrise.” And he was gone.

‘Don’t go! Do not leave me alone!’ Her plea remained unspoken, except in her aching heart.

The chariot started moving again, travelling towards her father’s palace. Lakshmana murmured a prayer. Ekalavya had gone in search of Krishna’s rogue son. She was afraid to even think of the consequences, whether he succeeded or failed. She chewed on the fringe of her shawl, her hands shaking as if she were afflicted with palsy. ‘Oh, Shiva, let me die!’ Lakshmana shut her eyes, trying to shake off the image of the leering Samba from her mind. She tried not to imagine what awaited Ekalavya as he galloped towards Dwaraka.

Why had the chariot stopped? A blood-chilling howl filled the air. It rose and ebbed and then rose again. Terrified, Lakshmana opened her eyes. A beggar was dragging a dog from their path. Karna held the reins and waited, trying not to let the compassion he felt overcome him. But even as the chariot drove on, leaving the beggar and his dog far behind, the agonised howling refused to fade away.

*****

36
   
R
ETRIBUTION

A MAN SNEAKED OUT, LOOKED AROUND
furtively, and then darted towards the shelter of the trees. Perhaps a deserter, thought Ekalavya. The man could lead him to Samba. He walked forward noiselessly and crouched behind a bush, as silent as a big cat stalking its prey. A bat whizzed past his head screeching but it did not disturb the man of the forest. Noiselessly, Ekalavya pounced on the man, pinning him to the ground. The man uttered a profanity. Ekalavya hit him across the face and waited. When the coughing and whining stopped, the man muttered something and Ekalavya bent to hear.

“You...untouchable...you do not know who you are playing with...”

This was no ordinary soldier. “Who are you?” Ekalavya hissed.

“You Nishada, you don’t know who I am? I am the son of Krishna... You will pay for this.”

Samba! Ekalavya punched him with all his strength, flattening his nose. He waited till Samba’s screams faded to a whimper and then punched him again, knocking out a few teeth. “Father...father...help me...” Samba whined. Ekalavya waited.

Some soldiers were animatedly pointing towards the woods. Ekalavya knew he did not have much time but he was determined the scoundrel would not have the good fortune to die a quick death. First he would drag this stinking monster before the Hastinapura Sabha and show them what a Nishada could do while they, the Kshatriyas, still sat debating the rights and the wrongs. Then he would kill Samba, inch by inch.

“Help!” Samba cried as another man emerged from the Yadava camp.

Ekalavya’s heart skipped a beat. Krishna! Another tall man came out and the two men began to argue. Samba tried to cry out but Ekalavya clamped his mouth shut. He tore a piece from his shawl and shoved it into Samba’s mouth, gagging him. Then he kicked Samba in the ribs until he lost consciousness. Grabbing Samba’s long hair, Ekalavya began dragging him towards his horse.

“Hey, you!” Krishna roared and began running towards the woods.

There was no time to lose. Ekalavya hoisted Samba upon his shoulder and staggered on. Samba was heavier than he had thought. He whistled and his horse broke through the undergrowth, almost knocking down Krishna. The Yadava was quick to roll away, getting back on his feet in one swift movement. Ekalavya dumped Samba’s unconscious form on his horse and mounted. Krishna’s
Sudharshana
whistled past his throat, splintering a tree behind him. Ekalavya kicked his horse and it shot off like an arrow. Krishna dived to catch the fleeing horse but could not get his hands to the reins.

Ekalavya galloped on towards Hastinapura with his quarry. It was just a matter of time before the fearsome Narayana Sena would give him chase. He kept his dagger pressed to the unconscious Samba’s throat. When the Narayana Sena caught up with him, he wanted to be sure to take Samba with him to the abode of Yama.

After a while, Ekalavya wondered why no arrows were whizzing past him and why he did not hear the rumble of chasing chariots. His horse galloped but his heart raced even faster. When he finally looked back, emptiness stretched to the horizon. Where was Krishna’s army? Somehow, that was even more terrifying.