Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles) (47 page)

A FIREWRIGHT
…

Panchali did not know what hit her harder – the obviousness of his statement in retrospect, the fact that she had remained
wilfully blind to it all these years, or the simple respite of having it out in the open, finally.

At last, she found her voice. ‘How? Who? I mean …’ she stuttered. Govinda understood. ‘Many years ago, before I left Mathura.
Ghora Angirasa. He was my teacher.’

Pancali was aghast. ‘And you killed him?’

‘His death shall lie heavy on my head, I admit. And yes, his blood shall forever stain my hands. But not so much my conscience.
I brought Ghora Angirasa back to Aryavarta, hoping to upset the uneasy balance we had got ourselves into. I set off this mad
chain of events that has led us to this. Did I kill him? No, but the distinction is
perhaps irrelevant for I watched, wilfully helpless, as Ghora Angirasa stabbed himself with his own knife …’

‘What …?’ Panchali felt the beginnings of a slightly terrified awe as she looked up at Govinda. The difference, she knew,
between murder and sacrifice was simple legitimacy.
But what man can have the courage to make such a terrible decision, and yet sleep with a clear conscience?

Govinda seemed to anticipate her silent question. He said, ‘Of the many things Ghora taught me, the most important has perhaps
been to look beyond myself, to be one with something larger. Perhaps it was the cowherd in me, but that idea came to define
my life – to the extent that allegiance and affection both are nothing but illusions. What is real is that larger Oneness,
the meaning of meaning …’

‘Admirable sentiments. But they still don’t justify your actions, no, your
heinous
actions. Ghora is but one victim of your trail of violence, Govinda. To use your own dramatic phrase, the Firewrights’ blood
has been on your hands, yes, but for a long time now. You destroyed them! You had them all hunted down like animals!’

Govinda remained unprovoked. His gaze fixed earnestly on Pancali, he continued in a calm tone, ‘The Firewrights were failing,
decaying, condemned by their obsession with secrecy, their own power and politics. The kings of the realm both feared and
revered them, while the Firstborn despised them. Parashara – Dwaipayana’s father – had sanctioned a scourge, something that
would destroy every last one of the Wrights unless they made themselves useful and relevant once again, became willing to
teach and share, and to be the inventors and scholars they were meant to be. I could see that, but none of them would agree
with me. Except, of course, for Ghora. He saw what needed to be done and we both did it. The point was never to destroy the
Wrights. We – Ghora and I – just wanted to weaken them enough, so that they had to reach out and rely on others.

‘Which is precisely what has happened. Torn apart and thrown into disarray, the Wrights hid in the forests, passing their
metal craft on to the Nagas. Some sought refuge at Dwaraka, bringing with them their art and architecture. The Bhargavas,
who had already
shared their knowledge of weapons and warfare with the likes of Bhisma, willingly, eagerly, began to train anyone who showed
interest and merit – Arya or not. Men like Ghora, and even Devala Asita, travelled far from these lands, learning and teaching.
The Wrights were destroyed, not as a scientific order, but as a fanatic group of secretive power-mongers. And because we did
what we did the Wrights remain in spirit, their knowledge lives on surviving even the terrible war that the Firstborn, together
with the kings of Aryavarta, have waged against them.’

With surprising vehemence, Govinda declared, ‘I don’t want to be Emperor, Pancali. I don’t want First Honour, or any damned
nonsense that goes with it. Power drives politics and I want so badly to remain free of it, to remain part of the objective
larger Oneness. Always, always, I’ve tried to do what was right, what was in the interests of the greatest number, what was
for the greater good of all. And that’s what your empire is – it’s a chance for us, the people of Aryavarta – not just its
elite rulers – to find peace. It’s a chance for reason to prevail. I …’ he faltered, but only for an instant. Panchali clenched
her jaws in a bid to remain silent.

‘All that I have done in these past years is to continue the task Ghora and I began, together. Think about it,’ he urged,
‘Kandava, Kashi … Look at the pattern! What happened thirty years ago with the Wrights happened again, this time with those
who’d learnt from them. By forcing the Nagas out of Kandava, their iron craft is now out in the open. They’ve truly become
part of Aryavarta, part of the lives of the people, not just the kings! As have the medics of Kashi, who’ve been forced to
wander Aryavarta ever since I burned down their city. Every time it looked like the Wrights were coming together to hoard
their knowledge, form their secret order once more, I broke them apart.’

‘So that you alone were powerful,’ Panchali could finally take no more. ‘You wanted to …’

Govinda interrupted, ‘My intention was not to cast them down or to take their place. All I’ve ever dreamt of, ever longed
for, is an empire of peace built on both the knowledge of the Wrights and
the scriptures of the Firstborn. Built in a way that they’re equal and inseparable. For that I needed you – and I needed you
to understand who the Wrights truly were and what they were capable of …’

‘So you let Asvattama send me to Utkochaka?’ Panchali demanded, incredulous. ‘You sent me to Devala, even though you knew
what he was, what he was capable of?’

‘Yes and no. I wasn’t quite sure Devala had crawled back out from whichever rock it was he had been hiding under. But you
helped me bring him out …’

‘And Dwaipayana?’

‘Dwaipayana’s battle is with the Wrights, not with their knowledge. He has never had any problem letting those he trusts,
or controls, use Firewright weaponry, as long as it is in what he considers the best interest of the Firstborn. And such is
his attitude towards me. As far as he is concerned, I am a Wright-trained man, yes, but one who has served the purposes of
the Firstborn well. The utility of my actions have far outweighed the burden of my identity. He has what he wants. His offspring
rule all of Aryavarta. With the Wrights gone in name, at last the Firstborn can breathe a sigh of relief. But for that to
happen, for the many, many things that have led us to this point to happen, the idea that the Firewright order no longer exists
was an important one. Which is why, again, Ghora had to die and what better place to do so than the Vyasa’s own hermitage?
As for me – I’ve been rather useful to Dwaipayana, haven’t I? I’ve pretty much destroyed the Wrights for him, not to mention
built his grandson’s empire! As long as I keep my nose out of Aryavarta’s affairs henceforth, he probably won’t care. Or he
might just decide to finish me off, who knows? Doesn’t matter really,’ Govinda cheerfully concluded.

‘And once you’re gone?’ Panchali challenged. ‘What’s to stop your precious empire from falling to pieces?’

‘Trade, my dear!’

Govinda’s eyes came alight with a hidden fire. ‘As the Firstborn set up their hierarchies, their structured divisions of society
based on duty and destiny, it will lead to specialization – those charged with the duty of farming become better farmers,
those with the duty
of trade become better traders. And knowledge grows – scientific knowledge. And then, as people start coming to terms with
the huge distances, they’ll learn to write and read, and keep accounts and records. You think power and might lies only in
armies and brute force? Prosperity can be power too. If we truly achieve our potential, we become more valuable to foreign
rulers as we are – they gain nothing from conquering us and by leaving us as an independent empire they can benefit from trading
with us.’

‘But …’

‘Panchali, I’ve done what I had to. I know you think of me as an arrogant, ambitious, even bloodthirsty man. For that matter,
most of Aryavarta has that opinion of me, and there are few who don’t see me as honourless scum. But this isn’t about just
you and me, it’s about Aryavarta. This is how it must be. It’s for the greater good. Honour, nobility … being Arya has no
meaning without Aryavarta, not just as a realm but as an ideal to stand up for.’

Panchali tried to make sense of what she had just been told, but facts, thoughts and emotions all collided into each other
in a disgusting and surreal way, like maggots devouring a tree. She felt her anger dissolve and in its place a cold understanding
took root. But she no longer understood whether she had been correct or not, only that she had to do the right thing.

‘Who else knows?’ she asked, suddenly feeling very small and tired.

Govinda replied, ‘For a fact? Balabadra. Yuyudhana, Shikandin. Of course, Dwaipayana suspects as much. Devala, Dhaumya … I
assume Bhisma also knows that I was once Ghora Angirasa’s student. They also know I’ve worked hard to bring down the Wrights.
Devala’s all that’s left of the old school and Shikandin will hunt him down, sooner than later. And then there’s Asvattama
– like me, he too struggles with his loyalties. That’s all.’ With a soft chuckle, he added, ‘What does that make me, then,
I wonder?’

‘The last Firewright? Isn’t that what you wanted?’

‘Not really,’ Govinda shook his head. ‘Let me tell you this much, Panchali, though perhaps it’s not a piece of information
meant for
the Empress of Aryavarta. The order of Firewrights lives on. There remains a Secret Keeper.’

Panchali’s response oozed sarcasm, ‘Indeed! No guessing who that is, I suppose? Or does another of your figureheads fill that
role, while you yank at the strings? No, I think this particular title you do want for yourself. Otherwise, you’ll remain
a traitor won’t you, an outcast from the order. But that’s what you’ve always been, and still are … A man without an identity,
because he can remain true to nothing. Not to clan and kingdom, nor to order and allegiance.’

Govinda remained impassive. ‘Now you’ll accuse me of another ambition, will you? I suppose I should deny it, but it doesn’t
matter. Or perhaps, I will deny it and state categorically that I am not the Secret Keeper, if only to say that the one who
is Secret Keeper is certainly a much better man than I. As for me … What I am is and always was plain for all to see. I can’t
change that, just as I can’t change what I know.’

‘No, but you can choose what you do with it.’

‘I already have.’

Panchali sighed. Govinda, she realized, found life in the tiny moment between two heartbeats, the potent silence between breathing
in and breathing out. He hung on to that instant that was neither death nor life, and it fuelled his equanimity, his detachment
and dispassion. He would know neither pleasure nor pain, neither desire nor satiation. In the very same moment, that instant
between two heartbeats, Panchali lived many lifetimes, felt many passions. She saw Time as it was born, and as it died. She
watched innumerable universes in infinite existences, in which the same story played itself out over and over again. Battles
were fought, won and lost, between celestials and demons, and demons that became celestial and then fell from lofty heights,
to begin the incessant, inevitable climb to divinity again.

I’m just a tiny speck against the vast universe, she told herself, but this speck is as complete and perfect as the universe
itself, so why do I need to long for more? I’m just a drop in the ocean of existence, who can do little
more than pray to the One who rests on its waves, in his dream – sleep that’s neither life nor death
.

‘Narayana …’ she suddenly whispered, giving in to the numbness that settled over her.

Panchali knew she had yielded, accepted what Govinda was capable of. She did not have the strength to pretend to herself that
he made exceptions. He did not. Everyone, everything was an illusion to him, illusions that had no hold over him. But she
had to make her choice, decide what she would believe in.

The words flowed out of her in an unstoppable stream. ‘Are you truly so innocent, Govinda? Or have you deluded everyone for
so long that you’ve starting believing that you do the right and honourable thing? Like the gods that rule us, you judge us
all in your benevolence. But it isn’t so. Do you really think that it’s all over, that the world will merrily follow the path
you’ve laid out? That your plan will work?’

Govinda shrugged. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you assume that men are guided by reason alone.’

‘That’s not correct. There’s nothing rational about wanting power. I don’t deny emotion.’

‘Let me rephrase that. You believe that people are capable of seeing the most objective means to achieve their ends – ends
which may be driven by emotion. Do you agree?’

‘I do. And where’s the problem with that?’

‘You underestimate human nature and scorn the essence of humanity. There’s a part of us that worships passion, not reason,
no matter what pathetic mistakes it drives us to or how much pain it causes us. Whatever the end result you may have intended,
your means destroy the core of what makes us special. If we followed you, we’d be forced to surrender every sense of compassion
that we’re capable of feeling. No matter what you say you believe in, you will only destroy us. I can’t let that happen. I
won’t let it happen!’

Panchali forced herself to calm down and placed a hand on Govinda’s cheek. Standing on tiptoe she whispered in his ear, a
soft murmur of intimate but taunting secrets. ‘You think I don’t
understand? The fact is, you don’t understand! You can’t understand, not as long as you remain devoid of the simplest human
emotions. You can never belong to anyone, not even yourself. You’ll forsake love rather than forsake dispassion or, perhaps,
you already have …’

With a sad smile, she finished, ‘You love, but you don’t know what it is to love. You so desperately fight to save Aryavarta,
but you don’t know what it is you’re trying to save, what you’re really fighting for, do you? Emperor, but not; Secret Keeper,
but not–You do all that you do and then claim to have done nothing at all, you hide behind explanations of reason and social
evolution and all those words you throw around to deny your presence here and in this moment, so that you can continue to
believe that you’re some evolved, elevated being who is above us all. Truly, I pity you …’