Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles) (27 page)

SYODDHAN RODE SILENTLY NEXT TO A PENSIVE SHISUPALA, AS AN
array of soldiers from the armies of Vidharbha, Magadha and Kuru marched out of Kaundinyapura. A furious Rukmi led the pursuit
of his daughter’s kidnappers. Each of the three men had about a division of hundred soldiers under their command. The rest
of the armies were being mustered in sections and would follow in due course if they were needed. But, as Rukmi had pointed
out, it was better to make the initial move quickly and with fewer men, since Govinda and his scoundrel son were on their
own. His spies had assured them that there had been no notable army movement towards Vidharbha in the preceding weeks and
Govinda Shauri himself had no escort.

Govinda Shauri
, Syoddhan said the name in his mind. Despite the incessant tirade of expletives that Rukmi kept spewing, his respect for
Govinda remained, though a little grudgingly. What Govinda had done that morning had perhaps lacked something in nobility
but not in courage. No matter what anyone said, he was not a coward. Pradymna and Rukmavati were probably unaware of the peril
he had faced in order to give them the chance to escape.

Even as the couple had raced out the gates, Govinda had single-handedly barred Rukmi and Shisupala’s way. Of course, he would
have known that Rukmi could not order the archers to fire at will in the middle of a crowded city street. But there still
had been the marksmen on the fort’s turrets to contend with and the barrage of soldiers who had closed in from all sides.
Nevertheless, he had calmly released arrow after arrow at the advancing soldiers, holding them off for as long as he could.
His chance at escape had come only when the city gates had been opened again to let the mustered forces give chase to Pradymna
and Rukmavati. Govinda had then sped off at the first chance he got, with Rukmi’s men right on his tail.

Syoddhan looked up as a rider came towards them at great speed. The man’s uniform showed him to be one of the elite soldiers
of Rukmi’s guard who had gone after Govinda. Jumping off his horse, the soldier knelt low on the ground. Syoddhan immediately
knew it could not be good news. Indeed, the soldier’s voice was strained as he said, ‘My lords, Govinda Shauri is nearly at
the river. All three of them – our princess too – are making their way down the bank to the water’s edge.’

‘Paayu!’ Rukmi shouted, enraged. ‘How could you let him escape? Why didn’t you follow him, you good-for-nothing son of a bitch?’

‘The others are dead, my prince. I retreated to inform you where the three are heading.’

‘Dead?’ Rukmi was aghast. ‘Eight of you against one fleeing man and you tell me seven are dead? Are you men or squealing whores?’

The soldier crouched down low and silently faced his master’s wrath as Rukmi continued to rant.

‘Perhaps we should let it go,’ Shisupala suddenly said. ‘After all, it isn’t Govinda who’ll marry your daughter, but Pradymna
– and Pradymna’s heritage can’t be denied. Unlike Govinda, he was born honourable, an Arya beyond doubt …’

Syoddhan was taken aback, though pleasantly so, by his friend’s declaration.

Rukmi turned to them, just as astonished but far less pleased. ‘Except,’ he pointed out, ‘the boy is Govinda’s adopted son
and legal heir. Whatever he may once have been, he is now the son of a bastard cowherd.’

Shisupala argued. ‘Pradymna is true blood. If this had been the good old days, I would have arranged his wedding with your
daughter myself! Look, I’ve bedded enough women – whores and otherwise – and in all probability fathered enough bastards to
respect the blood of our forefathers when I see it. Pradymna is Arya. He’s one of us. Let it go.’

Syoddhan flinched silently at Shisupala’s casual admission, but kept his thoughts to himself with the ease of a man who had
many brothers, some of them far worse than the man before him. If he
had Dussasana and a few more of that lot flogged as often as Kuru law deemed they deserved, Syoddhan knew he would either
be less some siblings or, perhaps, his own head. ‘Princes will be princes,’ his father would often say as he ordered Syoddhan
to set right what had gone wrong – from the farmers who had ended up in the prisons of Hastina for failing to bow fast enough
when one of his brothers had ridden past to the dead virgin handmaidens unfortunate enough to have caught a lustful eye. At
that moment it was difficult not to think of Shisupala as one of his errant younger brothers, perhaps even the best of the
lot.

With an indulgent shake of his head, Syoddhan said, ‘I’m with Shisupala on this one, Rukmi, though for less colourful reasons.
I know you have a long list of complaints against Govinda, but I see no cause to blame Pradymna. If your daughter likes him,
then perhaps you should indulge her wishes.’

Rukmi was adamant. ‘No!’

‘My friend …’

‘No! I said no!’

Syoddhan sighed and turned to the still-kneeling soldier. ‘How much further?’

The soldier turned slightly to point to a grove of trees that lay a stone’s throw ahead. ‘Beyond that grove is an open plain.
Beyond the plain lie the western hills that run southward for many leagues. The river is about midway across the plain. It’s
in spate, and the currents are strong. Perhaps they think that by crossing it they may dissuade you, my lords.’

‘And beyond the mountains?’ Syoddhan questioned.

‘The coastlands south of Dwaraka and Anartta,’ the soldier replied. ‘If they get over the mountains, they might try to board
a ship. But I doubt they’ll try to climb across – the horses would never make it. The only thing they can do is head north
along the mountains till they are past the range and then cut through Anartta on horseback. It’s a long ride …’

Shisupala opened his mouth as though to say something, but decided against it. He looked questioningly at Rukmi instead.

‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Syoddhan voiced his doubt. ‘The hills block their way and they’ll be cornered. What does he plan
to do? Do you think he’s waiting for reinforcements?’

‘Only armies wait for reinforcements,’ Rukmi was contemptuous. ‘Lone men wait, and pray, for help.’

‘Call it what we may, the more time we give him, the more likely he’ll get something or the other. We need to move quickly,
if we decide to move.’

‘What do you mean,
if
?’ Rukmi snapped.

‘You still have a choice, Rukmi,’ Syoddhan pointed out. ‘Shisupala himself believes Pradymna to be a suitable match for your
daughter, and I agree. You know that your father, King Bhismaka, will also concur. There’s talk that Pradymna may soon be
made Commander of the Yadu armies even at this young age and then, in effect, he will rule Dwaraka. Your daughter will be
his first and principal, if not only, wife. It
is
an attractive alliance, in all fairness.’

‘I. …’ Rukmi faltered, and then said with an air of finality. ‘It’s not about my daughter, anymore, Syoddhan. It’s about the
impunity with which Govinda Shauri and his ilk act. Let me tell you that my daughter’s life is already forfeit for the shame
she has brought upon our family.’ With a snarl he added, ‘The boy shall die first as my daughter watches, then she shall die
while Govinda Shauri watches, painfully aware that he has brought this upon those children. Then, when he begs for death,
I shall kill him …
slowly!
’

Syoddhan pursed his lips and quietly considered the declaration.

Shisupala appeared visibly shaken at Rukmi’s words. Clearing his throat, he declared in a formal manner, ‘Then you must forgive
me, for I shall have no part of this.’

Rukmi looked at him, astounded, as Shisupala continued. ‘I really liked your daughter,’ he said. ‘Enough, that I would have
treated her with nothing but respect. I had hoped to share my life with her, give her every joy she could wish for, and like
the fool I am I thought she could somehow make me a better man. I can’t just forget all that and take part in her killing.’

‘But …’

‘Please! We’re allies, so I’ll leave you my forces. You also have the Emperor’s battalions with you, and I’m sure Syoddhan
will gladly place his companies at your service. But please, let me … let us, leave. Syoddhan and I shall wait for you at
Kaundinyapura.’

‘In that case, tell my executioners to have three stakes waiting for the heads I’ll bring back,’ Rukmi rasped.

Before either of the other men could say anything further, he whipped his horse into a gallop and set off down the road. At
a signal from Rukmi’s captain, the armies followed. Shisupala and Syoddhan watched them ride off. Then they turned around
to head back the way they had come.

RUKMAVATI KEPT LOOKING BACK AS THEY FORDED THE STRONG
currents of the river. She could have sworn she had heard her father calling out to her. Perhaps it was a dream, or even
wishful thinking.

Pradymna reached out to take her hand. ‘This is my fault,’ he confessed. ‘When you sent me that letter, I was sure my father
would find out about it. I was glad because I didn’t have to tell him what I planned to do and he’d still know where I’d gone
and why. But not once did I think he’d come to Vidharbha, and in this way. If I had known he would risk his own life …’ He
faltered, as his eyes fell on the man riding in front of them.

Govinda seemed to be admiring the scenic vista as though they were on a picnic. ‘Don’t believe a word, my dear,’ he suddenly
cut in, turning in his saddle to look at them. ‘He’s just pretending to be a good son and all that.’

‘Oi!’ Pradymna exclaimed, looking very much his usual cheeky self. He then went on, ‘You’re right, Father. Being serious doesn’t
suit me at all!’

Their cheerful expressions changed quickly as the faint thunder of hooves came on the wind.

‘They’re on the plains,’ Govinda urgently noted. ‘Change horses
with me,’ he instructed Rukmavati, quickly sliding off Balahak and into the water.

The river was moderately deep, the water swirling almost level with their saddles. Govinda treaded water as he brought Balahak
close to Rukmavati’s horse. She tried to slip off, but he restrained her and gestured to Pradymna, who helped her clamber
directly onto Balahak. Wet, and cursing from the effort, Govinda finally pulled himself on to Rukmavati’s brown steed. ‘Keep
heading in a straight line towards the hills,’ he told the young couple.

‘What are you doing?’ Pradymna cried out, trying to make himself heard above the roar of the river.

‘I’m going back. I want to speak to her father.’

‘Father! Don’t do this please, let’s just go …’ Pradymna insisted, even as Rukmavati dejectedly looked away.

Govinda was firm. ‘She’s a child, Pradymna. Just because she loves you, you can’t expect her to turn her back on her family.
Let me talk to Rukmi, and we can settle this quietly and quickly.’

‘With all due respect, Father, Shisupala’s out there. That man has spilt more blood over lust than he has over honour.’

‘With greater respect, Pradymna, Shisupala would never, ever, kill one of his own. In his own way he’s always been fond of
you. That could be to our advantage.’

‘Please,’ Rukmavati added. ‘It’s not my father’s armies alone that you must face. The Emperor has sent us a lot of his soldiers
in a show of friendship. Those men are a bloodthirsty lot.’

‘Like most imperial soldiers,’ Govinda said, then added cheekily, ‘and for future reference, my dear, that kind of observation
is more likely to send me scurrying towards trouble, not keep me from it.’

‘But …’

‘No buts. You two do as I tell you.’ With that, Govinda turned the horse around and headed back across the river.

Rukmavati and Pradymna stood where they were, watching the disappearing figure for a while.

‘Come,’ Pradymna eventually said. They continued across the river and clambered on to the other side. ‘Go straight,’ he mumbled.

‘But it’s just the hills ahead,’ Rukmavati said.

‘Govinda Shauri doesn’t speak in vain,’ he told her. His voice filled with pride and renewed energy he declared, ‘My father
knows what he’s doing. Go. Ride straight. Use that line of shadows to keep direction.’

‘What about you?’

‘I can’t leave my father behind to fight alone. You know that.’

‘Then let me stay too.’

‘Rukmavati, please,’ Pradymna urged her. ‘You have to trust my father. He has a plan, of that I’m sure. Go now, hurry. And
whatever happens, keep going.’

Rukmavati nodded, feeling more afraid than ever. On an impulse, she leaned across and gently kissed Pradymna. He looked at
her with surprise, then displayed his usual cheeky grin. Without waiting for her to leave he wheeled his horse around and
headed back to join Govinda.

Rukmavati urged Balahak on. The undulating land rose in a small peak, before it began to gently slope downwards to meet the
mountains. At the crest, Rukmavati turned back for one last look. Pradymna had caught up with Govinda and the two men were
cantering towards Rukmi and his massive army, as though father and son had no cares in the world. With a sob, she turned away
and continued forward. Within moments, she was out of view.

Time stopped for Rukmavati. She let Balahak amble on towards the mountains. The tears she had held back now flowed freely.
There was no way Govinda and Pradymna could escape. She had led them to their deaths with her stupid notions of romance and
adventure. It was all her fault. As Balahak came to a stop, she hung her head and sobbed her heart out. Then, still sniffling
and weeping, she looked around her.

It seemed like a normal day – pleasant and serene. The sky was shot with purple and gold as the sun had began to set, falling
behind the mountains with unexpected speed. The huge shimmering red orb was unnaturally large as it disappeared from view.
In the dimming light the dark outline of the mountains looked inviting, like sleep after
a long day. Across the river, she suspected, Govinda and Pradymna were probably already dead.

Rukmavati resolved to ride to the foothills as she had been told to, even if it was only to stand in front of the impassable
rock and wait for her father to find her. Despondent, she nudged Balahak on.

Suddenly she saw a flash of light – like a spark, only much larger. Taken by surprise, she gasped. In that moment, it was
gone.

She flicked the reins but found it was unnecessary. Balahak reared up of his own accord and set off at a gallop. As the stallion
gathered speed she saw the flash for a second time – golden and red fire in the colour of the setting sun. It took a moment,
but Rukmavati realized with a shock that it
was
the setting sun. There was a gap between the mountains, a pass of some sort, which just barely let the beams through. Her
heart thudding wildly, she rode on, making straight for the flash. She had no idea how Govinda had known, but this had to
have been a part of his plan. She rode faster still, but darkness swiftly descended around her.

Rukmavati cried out softly in despair. She knew she was not very far from the mountains but she could no longer make out their
detail, for they appeared as one dark shadow despite the light of the moon. Ignoring her anguish, Balahak kept going. She
screamed unwittingly, thinking the horse was about to smash into the rock, but to her surprise they went clean through a narrow
pass.

Balahak came to a stop in that darkness with a precision that came from his familiarity with the surroundings and memory of
his absent master’s previous commands. Rukmavati, however, was more lost than ever. Her breath resounded softly in the space,
telling her that she was in a cavern of some sort. Even as a new wave of panic settled on her, a voice gently reassured her
that she was safe. She cried out in fear, feeling far from reassured, but gradually noticed that Balahak was calm and seemed
to recognize the speaker. Rukmavati took courage from that fact and tried to calm down. Her eyes gradually got used to the
dimness and could begin to make out the outlines of things around her. She heard the rasp as a flint was struck and by its
yellow light saw a kind, rounded face she recognized as Balabadra, Govinda’s
brother. The light then fell on a man holding up a banner and she could distinctly make out the emblem of a soaring eagle
– Govinda Shauri’s emblem. She realized these men had come to his aid.

‘Hurry!’ she burst out. ‘Across the river, they’re on the plain there. My father has over three, four hundred men, many of
them imperial soldiers.’

Balabadra called out to his commanders and ordered all the torches to be lit. He turned back to Rukmavati, ‘You’d better stay
here. We’ll come back for you.’

She shook her head and in a tremulous voice said, ‘Pradymna …’

He sighed and then gestured to a young man, who came forward. ‘Samva here will take care of you. He’s Pradymna’s brother and
his best friend …’

Rukmavati nodded and stood aside as the men filed out of the narrow pass.

Once they were past the entrance, they fell into formation as two wings and made to cross the river. The light of their flares
as they swooped down the slope towards the water was enough to create a panic amidst Rukmi’s forces. Astonished, even terrified,
cries rose into the night.

Rukmavati rode at the rear, along with Samva, who alternated between looking at her and at the men riding ahead.

‘He told me, you know …’ Samva began without preamble. ‘Pradymna … He told me you had to be the most beautiful woman he’d
ever seen. I thought he’d gone mad, the way he went on and on about you …’

‘He’d seen me before?’ Rukmavati asked, surprised.

Samva nodded. ‘At Indr-prastha, when the foundation stone was laid. You were sitting with your father and grandfather.’

She began to feel less bashful now. ‘How did you all know? And how did you get here just in time?’

‘We sailed down the coast from Dwaraka and took the pass through the mountains. Your father’s spies had no clue …’ he chuckled.

‘Amazing!’

‘Mahamatra,’ Samva said, with a mock air of formality, ‘if Dwaraka
is to be your home and Pradymna your irredeemable slave in matrimony, then there’s one thing that you should never forget
…’

‘Which is …?’

Samva said, with discernible pride, ‘Govinda Shauri always has a plan.’

He slowed down as they reached the elevation just before the river and then came to a stop. ‘Look,’ he pointed.

The moon shone down as bright as the sun, and the clanging of metal against metal and the cries of men carried well across
the water. Despite the distance at which the battle was taking place, Rukmavati could see that the last of the Yadu soldiers
had now forded the river and had thrown themselves into the fray. Though outnumbered, the men of Dwaraka fought bravely, tactically
using cluster formations that allowed them to fight back-to-back. Her eyes searched out and found the figures of Govinda and
Pradymna as they fought together at the frontlines. She clenched her fists tight as she saw Pradymna raise his sword to land
a fatal stroke on her father. But the blade did not fall as another gleam of metal intervened. Govinda had barred the blow,
and he was furious with Pradymna.

Rukmi and Govinda then briefly spoke, after which Rukmi turned away and shouted out orders to his men to withdraw. Jarasandha’s
soldiers, led by a surly captain, were the last to comply, but Govinda and his men had already lowered their weapons and let
the Emperor’s forces retreat, unharmed.

It was over. What should have been a massacre of two men had turned, in moments, into an even battle, which had ended as quickly
as it had started.

Pradymna was greeted with loud cheers from the men as he rode swiftly towards the river.

Winking at Rukmavati, Samva said, ‘Well, goodnight then. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t let that rogue bother you too
much …’ Before she could reply, Samva was already making his way across the river.

The two brothers met on the opposite bank to embrace and then Pradymna was splashing his way across to Rukmavati. Crying
with relief, she dismounted and ran to him. He swung off his horse and took her in his arms. Neither of them cared that the
entire army of Narayaniyas applauded them on with all gusto as they kissed passionately. With an inaudible shout at the jubilant
soldiers, Pradymna took Rukmavati’s hand and led her away from the river, out of view.

Dwaraka welcomed Pradymna and his bride with great fervour and unceasing festivity. Initially, Rukmavati was a little frightened
by the splendour of the city and the open-hearted jubilation of its citizens. She had hardly spoken to men in all her life
and here she found herself surrounded by Pradymna’s cousins, who good-naturedly teased her and openly joked with her about
her new husband’s foibles.

Thankfully, Balabadra’s wife Raivati, who was both perceptive and sympathetic, took Rukmavati under her wing. That, however,
could hardly stop the customary bantering between the women.

‘They’re just a bunch of louts,’ Raivati gleefully informed the younger woman. ‘You just keep a sharp tongue ready, my dear,
and you’ll be fine!’

Rukmavati smiled shyly. She already felt much more at ease. Dwaraka’s people were brave and honest and she did not see the
slightest sign of either fear or sadness in anyone’s eyes. But there were also many things she did not understand.

‘When do I meet your father’s wives?’ she asked Pradymna a few days after she had arrived.

Pradymna laughed.

‘Why … what?’ she said, perplexed.

‘My father,’ Pradymna bundled her close into his arms and replied, ‘has thousands of wives …’

‘What!’

‘Once, in the early years, when we had just founded Dwaraka,’ Pradymna began, ‘a great host of women came to our gates, seeking
refuge. Some were concubines and prostitutes by profession, others were slave-born women. There were also women of royal lineage,
abandoned because they had been taken away as plunder, or raped
and left behind, when one kingdom warred with another. They’d heard about the many-gated city that welcomed everyone … They
came from all over Aryavarta, braving cold and heat and hunger. Some of them had walked leagues and leagues, barefoot through
blistering deserts and over harsh stone mountains, just to reach Dwaraka. These women, hundreds of them, were thrown into
dungeon-like caverns, while the newly formed Council of Representatives leisurely debated over what ought to be done with
them. In the end, those willing to pursue their lives as courtesans, prostitutes or entertainers were offered jobs in the
city itself.’

‘And the rest?’ Rukmavati prompted, wide-eyed.

‘The rest were a damned inconvenience. The Council turned them away. Many of them were just girls. My father stood on the
turrets over the city gates and declared that each and every one of those women was to be treated as his wife and accorded
every respect. He said they were free to come and go as they pleased, answerable only to the laws of the land and to their
own consciences. To dishonour them would be to dishonour him.’