MAHABHARATA SERIES BOOK#2: The Seeds of War (Mba) (5 page)

Vrishaparva was mortified by these accusations. He came down from his throne dais and joined his palms before his guru. ‘My lord, my teacher, great illuminator of knowledge. I am not aware of these crimes you accuse me of, yet I know you to be a man of impeccable truth and honesty. If you say these things happened then they must have been done by the persons accused, and I take full responsibility for their actions as well. You are the epitome of dharma and your judgement is indisputable. But I beg you, do not take any action against us for we depend on you as those at sea need the shelter of a boat to stay afloat. We shall drown without your guidance and wisdom.’

When Shukracharya saw Vrishaparva’s humility and recontrite attitude, he was somewhat appeased. But he knew that he could not simply forgive and let the lapse pass unnoticed, if not for his own sake then for Devayani’s sake. ‘King of asuras, why should I care anymore whether you sink or swim? Your daughter has attempted to kill my daughter. She has said unforgivable things about me to Devayani. Such things are beyond tolerance. I cannot let these transgressions pass.’

Vrishaparva knew how dearly the guru loved his daughter. He had heard from his danavas how the guru had permitted himself to die in order to save Devayani’s beloved Kacha, teaching Brihaspati’s son the Sanjivani secret. He saw that Kavya Ushanas would not be appeased merely by words and appeals. ‘My lord, great Bhrigu, tell me how I may make amends for the wrong that has been done to you? All that I possess is your’s. My palace, my possessions, my wealth, elephants, cattle, horses, armies…whatever you desire shall be your’s. Just as I own all these things, so do you own me.’

But the guru knew his daughter’s heart and mind well. Once Devayani had set herself against someone or for someone, she could never be moved to change her stance. ‘Vrishaparva, you are a great asura and your offerings are great too. But it is not I who needs pacifying, it is my daughter Devayani. If you can appease her anger and convince her to forgive your daughter for her sins, then a compromise may be reached. Otherwise, you shall never see me again.’

With those words, Shukracharya left the palace, leaving behind a storm of controversy. Vrishaparva sent at once for his daughter who arrived looking pale and contrite. From her, he learned that Devayani’s accusations were true – not that he had ever doubted them – and he realized that if he did not make amends at once, he would lose his preceptor, and the asuras would be without their greatest guide and advisor. Not just a guru, they would lose the means by which they could be resurrected after death, and that alone would surely spell the end of the asuras forever. There was no question or hesitation in his mind. He had to make this right at once. ‘I shall go to Devayani and ask her to forgive you,’ he told his daughter coldly. ‘Whatever she asks, I shall grant. Prepare yourself.’ So saying, he left at once with his entourage. 

Sharmishtha was certain that Devayani would demand nothing less than her head as punishment. She prepared herself to face her death, knowing there was no recourse. But secretly, her heart burned with anger for her former friend and in her heart she still carried the bitter seed of resentment. 

Vrishaparva arrived at the ashram of his guru with his entourage, coming before Devayani with full pomp and ceremony. He greeted her with no less respect than that shown her father. Queens and princesses had been treated with less formal courtesy than Devayani was that day. At that moment, she knew that she had won. Her moment of triumph was at hand and she was determined to squeeze every last drop of vengeful satisfaction from Sharmishtha for the way she had treated her that day by the river in full view of all their friends and companions. 

‘Great Devayani,’ Vrishaparva said. ‘I have already offered your father all that I possess. For as I possess wealth and belongings, so does he possess me. He has asked me to appeal to you. I do so now. Name the price for your forgiveness. Whatever you desire, it shall be your’s without question. You have but to say the word.’

Devayani answered primly, ‘I desire that Sharmishtha, with a thousand other girls, who are the daughters of all your friends and allies, should serve as my maid servants from this day forth. Even when I am married, they must go with me to my husband’s house and serve me for as long as I live. This is my only demand.’

Vrishaparva answered without hesitation. ‘It shall be as you say.’ He sent his aide to fetch Sharmishtha from the palace. The aide rode back at furious speed, then informed the daiimaa who was matron of the princess to fetch her mistress to the ashram at once. Accompanied by her father’s guard, Sharmishtha travelled by palanquin to the forest hermitage where she presented herself before Vrishaparva and Devayani. She was surprised to see other girls her age arriving at the same time, and recognized all her friends, companions and daughters of other asura nobles and regals. 

‘My daughter,’ Vrishaparva said, ‘You must do as Devayani says. From this day forth, you and these other girls shall all serve as Devayani’s maids. Her every wish is your command. Do you follow?’

Sharmishtha answered at once, ‘Yes, father. I shall do as you command.’

Devayani added shrewdly, ‘No. You shall do as I command. Is that understood?’

Sharmishtha looked up at her father, then at the faces of the other asura nobles and royals gathered around, all sombre and stern-faced. She bowed before Devayani. ‘Yes, mistress.’

Once all the thousand girls had assembled, Vrishaparva and the other asuras departed the ashram. Sharmishtha and Devayani were alone again, for the first time since their fight in the forest. 

Devayani turned to stare triumphantly at her rival. ‘So, here we are again. Do you remember what you said to me the last time we saw each other?’

Sharmishtha knew the only right answer was silence. She hung her head. 

Devayani went on. ‘You said that day that I was the daughter of a man who begs like a dog for your father’s scraps, and lives off alms, saying anything to gain favour. Yet now as you see, you are my slave. How is this possible?’

Sharmishtha tried to stay silent but Devayani strode towards her and commanded, ‘Speak! I order you to answer me! You are my servant and will do my bidding!’

Sharmishtha looked up hesitantly, choosing her words carefully. ‘You are as my own sister and when one’s sister is in need, one cannot refuse to help. I will do everything you say.’ 

Devayani’s eyes narrowed. The answer was a little too circumspect for her liking. ‘You do know that your help will be for the rest of your life? This is not a temporary assignment. You will be my servant for as long as we both live. Even after I am married.’

Sharmishtha bowed her head. ‘I shall follow you wherever your father bestows you.’ 

Devayani was still not satisfied. She suspected that Sharmishtha still possessed great pride and resentment. But she had won a major victory. She had no wish to enter into another war of words and wits with the other girl. In any case, Sharmishtha was her slave now. Whatever she said or did not say hardly mattered. What mattered was that Devayani owned her, body and soul, and nothing Sharmishtha said or did could ever change that reality! 

She contented herself by gloating over her newfound power and ordering her maids to collect her belongings and prepare for a trip. ‘Where to, milady?’ they asked. But she did not bother to answer. 

She went to her father and said to him, ‘Father, I am appeased by Vrishaparva’s donation of his daughter and a thousand maids. Now that I possess such a large entourage, we cannot house them here. The king has always offered you apartments in his own palace. Sharmishtha’s own palatial residence is lying unoccupied now. Let us go and reside in the palace. I shall live in the princesses’ palace where my maids can have access to all that is needed to serve my every desire.’

Maharishi Kavya Ushanas was only too happy to agree. They went to the palace and took up residence there. Devayani and her father were welcomed and greeted by all the danavas with great honour and homage, for they were relieved at being forgiven and to still have their guru. Devayani lived in Sharmishtha’s own palatial palace within the palace complex, and slept in the same bed as her rival, wearing her rich clothes and jewelled ornaments, while Sharmishtha had to endure the humiliation of living as a servant in her own father’s house, sleeping with the other maids in their quarters and watching her most hated rival take her place. But deep in her heart, the bitter seed of resentment still held root. 

4

Years passed. To all intents and purposes, Devayani lived like a princess in the palace of Vrishaparva while her father conducted his brahminical vocation for the asuras as before. In this interim, Yayati son of Nahusha, besotted by the vision he had rescued from the well in the deep forest, returned more than once to the site of his infatuation, hoping to find her and this time to progress beyond merely holding her hand and shoulder. Inevitably, he found no trace of her and could not trace what had become of her. Even though he knew her name and her father’s name, he hesitated to ask after her. As she was the daughter of a brahmin, it would not be proper for him to go around asking after her. In this way, a young girl’s reputation could be ruined. So he kept his silence and bided his time, returning whenever he could, or when the hunt permitted, to that same neck of the deep woods, in the hope of someday encountering the vision once again. 

One day, Devayani awoke and thought how nice it would be to return to the forest and spend a few days. She had grown up in a forest ashram and while she loved the luxury of life in the palace, she missed the simple natural pleasures and beauty of that environment. She commanded Sharmishtha to arrange for a trip to the forest. With her thousand maids in tow, she arrived in regal style to the same spot where she had played with many of them in earlier days, sporting and playing. They ate fruits and roots, sipped the nectar from madhavi creepers, swam in lotus ponds and enjoyed a delightful holiday. Devayani made it a point to go to the same spot on the riverbank where they had swam that fateful day, and made Sharmishtha stay ashore, holding her richly brocaded garments and waiting for her to finish swimming and playing in the water until she returned. As Devayani silently slipped into the fine garments held out by her former friend, she felt a momentary pang of regret for the friendship they had once shared. But then she recalled the vile words Sharmishtha had shouted at her and the last trace of regret faded away. ‘I wish to walk,’ she said, and of course Sharmishtha had to follow, alongwith the rest of the entourage. Devayani took them to the very spot where the fight had occurred, right up to the mouth of the well into which Sharmishtha had pushed her, and she deliberately stood beside it and looked pointedly at her maid. Sharmishtha’s face was a mask of wax, betraying no expression or emotion, but the stiffness of her stance and the way she held her shoulders and arms revealed her inner feelings. Devayani shot Sharmishtha a provocative look as if to say, How far we have come since that day, have we not? Now it is you who is trapped, and I who am above you! And it shall stay this way forever. Not once would Sharmishtha raise her eyes and meet her gaze. Their companions chattered and laughed and played around them, unaware of the tension between the two women or the significance of this spot in their lives. 

Devayani decided to seat herself in that spot and had her maids make arrangements. Then she ordered Sharmishtha to massage her feet. The other maids continued to frolic and play, free to do as they pleased, enjoying their holiday. Only Sharmishtha was compelled to wait on Devayani, hand and foot.

The sound of hoofbeats silenced the chatter of the maids. All heads turned as a solitary figure rode into sight, trailing a second horse on a tether. At the sight of the rider, Devayani’s heart leaped. She recognized Yayati’s handsome features and powerfully built physique at once. It had been that face and those rock-like shoulders and arms that had been the first things she had seen after the days and nights trapped in the darkness of the well and to her eyes, Yayati was no less than a celestial being descended from heaven to rescue her. It’s my saviour! The handsome young king who saved me from the well! 

Yayati froze at the sight of so many women. He had not expected to see this desolate neck of the woods bustling with hundreds of young attractive women. His first thought was that he had blundered into some queen’s entourage and he turned the head of his horse, intending to ride away. His destination had been the river and he could find another route to reach it. He glimpsed a richly dressed young woman seated on luxuriant blankets, getting her feet massaged by a maid and assumed that to be the queen or princess. Rather than risk causing offense by his intrusion, he started to ride away. 

To his surprise, a voice called out. ‘Yuvraj! Yuvraj Yayati! I beg you, please wait!’ 

He turned around again, surprised at hearing his name called out. He saw the princess or queen who had been having her feet massaged rise and come towards him, her maid accompanying her. It took him a moment or two to recognize the mud-encrusted half-wasted vision he had found at the bottom of the well in this plump, painted and preening princess. 

‘Yuvraj Yayati,’ she said, laughing as she caught hold of the reins of his horse. ‘Do you not recognize me? It is I, Devayani daughter of Maharish Kavya Ushanas whom you rescued from that very well! Pray, dismount and speak with me awhile.’ She snapped off instructions to her maids to make suitable seating arrangements for the king, letting the sharp edge of her temper show without restraint. 

Yayati was conscious of the enormous crowd of curious ogling young girls surrounding them on all sides. From the manner in which they all deferred to Devayani and obeyed her commands, they all appeared to be maids to Devayani. There appeared to be hundreds of them. He knew queens who had fewer maids! Had she not said she was the daughter of a Maharishi? And she lived in a simple forest hermitage. How had she come by so many maids? And who was that particular maid, the one who had been massaging Devayani’s feet when he rode up, the young girl with the coy, arch look and svelte body. The way she had been bent over as she massaged her mistress’s feet, a woman amongst women and therefore unconcerned with her appearance, she had revealed more than a little of her exquisite physique and even after she saw that a man was approaching, she had been in no haste to conceal her finer points. He found her powerfully attractive. In contrast, the vision he had rescued from the well had turned into an overfed spoiled and over-decorated princess somehow. He was intrigued by the maid in appearance and by the story of the mistress now. It was the only reason he decided to linger awhile.