The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (14 page)

Dharma had said, ‘Then all the more reason to show that I remain his brother, even though I am now Emperor. I am as brother and father to all Aryavarta, am I not? Or do you think me a tyrant, a self-centred overlord? My position is a burden, brother, a great and honourable burden of duty. I bear it because I must, because it is my destiny to do so. Surely, you cannot expect me to stop being the man I am because of it?’

Dharma’s brothers had received his righteous declaration with practiced acquiescence. They knew their place in Dharma’s world, as Panchali knew hers. They were the pillars on which the Emperor stood, a man raised to great heights on the shoulders of others. But pillars and shoulders had no voice, and so they remained silent, even as Dharma functioned as their head and heart both. It had always been this way, a bond forged through love and respect, and an acceptance that the elder was always meant to lead. If anything, becoming Emperor had convinced Dharma all the more that this was how it was meant to be. It was, therefore, with quiet certitude that the four allowed themselves to be treated as nothing more than Dharma’s servitors, though that in itself commanded respect. Each one was entertained at Hastina by one of Syoddhan’s brothers, and all of them bore it without complaint, their personal likes or dislikes for their cousins notwithstanding. Panchali remained Dharma’s near-constant companion, except when he chose to indulge in pursuits that were considered an essential mark of royalty, particularly among the Kurus. She asked no questions when he did not come to her bed at night, and made no mention of it the following morning. Not that she had much of an opportunity to, for the rest of her time was spent in the company of the royal ladies of Hastina. While she entertained most of them out of courtesy, her visits to Syoddhan’s mother, Queen Gandhari, and his wife, Bhanumati, were enjoyable enough. In all, quite to her surprise, she found the entire visit turning out to be an undeniably pleasant affair.

On the fourth evening of their stay, Panchali found herself involved in an interesting conversation. Dharma was with her, as were Syoddhan and Asvattama, who remained a frequent and welcome visitor at Hastina. Panchali was glad to see him, just as she was glad that Vasusena was not around. She knew that despite the passage of time Vasusena had yet to get over his perceived shaming at her wedding competition. He could never look at Panchali without grimacing, while the hatred in his gaze made her flinch.

The final member of the group was Shakuni, Syoddhan’s uncle, though he looked no older than Dharma. Shakuni was a man of varied learning. In keeping with his comparatively liberal Gandhara roots, he did not share the patriarchal Kaurava view of women and social hierarchies, and took pride in flaunting it – with the result that Panchali had no lack of stimulating conversation. Neither did Dharma.

The topic that had them engaged in debate that evening was, Panchali knew, an old favourite with her husband: Dice. Shakuni passed around the pair he owned for each of them to examine. The dice were exquisitely light, made of a dazzling white metal, and fell to the ground with a metallic clatter that was pleasing to the ear.

‘Dice has been considered a game of chance. Is it true that there’s not much skill involved?’ Panchali asked.

‘On the contrary,’ Shakuni said, ‘dice, is a rather philosophical game… In fact, I’d say that one’s beliefs determine whether it is played as a game of chance or of skill.’

‘Oh! Please do go on.’ Panchali took a seat in anticipation of more conversation. Dharma hesitated and then sat down next to her, while Syoddhan and Shakuni took a throne-like chair each. Asvattama, continued to stand, genially waving away Syoddhan’s gesture to sit.

‘It all depends on what you see as cause and consequence, Mahamatra,’ Shakuni explained. ‘If the fall of the dice is the end result, then we must ask why they fall that way. Those who believe in chance, in fate, will argue that it is predestined, and we are just tools, or a means for the dice to be cast. I’d reckon Emperor Dharma here subscribes to this view.’

‘Indeed I do,’ Dharma emphatically said. ‘What happens to us is the will of fate, of the gods. Even if there is means or skill involved in the throwing, that itself becomes a predestined causality.’

‘Or,’ Shakuni said, ‘one may believe, as Syoddhan here does, that the fall of the dice is completely the result of human skill or the lack of it. It may be that you can’t predict the way the dice will fall, but an unskilled player ought to know that he is unlikely to get the outcome he seeks. It is a game of probability, of inevitability…’

‘He knows that he doesn’t know…’ Panchali muttered to herself.

‘Exactly!’ Shakuni confirmed.

The loud exclamation made Panchali come out of her brief abstraction. She asked, ‘And if the fall of the dice is not the consequence?’

‘Ah! If that is not the consequence, what can it be? Can it be the cause?’ Shakuni said in a dramatic whisper. He chuckled. ‘And that is why I always win, Mahamatra.’

‘I don’t understand…’ Panchali said.

‘Now, now! Don’t force him to reveal his secrets and tricks,’ Dharma said.

Shakuni waved his hand in disagreement. ‘A skill may seem like a trick, or even a sleight of hand, to one who doesn’t know how it’s done. But I have nothing to hide. The rumour goes that these are magic dice and they follow my command, but there is no magic. Very simply, these dice were cast using the lightest of iron alloys, one that allows for skill on a throw to determine the outcome. Nothing surpassing this metal has been crafted since…’

Panchali shook her head, again confessing that she did not comprehend.

Asvattama spoke now, an occasion unusual enough to surprise Dharma and Syoddhan both. ‘These dice? They are Wright-work, like the imperial sceptre. Made from the bones of an Angirasa scholar. No need to explain what that is probably a metaphor for,’ he sardonically added.

‘Unless the scholar was an exceptionally hardy…or bony…man,’ Panchali quipped.

Asvattama, Syoddhan and Shakuni roared with laughter, while Dharma looked aghast. He forced a polite look onto his face, but his voice was laced with derision. ‘Amazing how we still allow these unsanctified artifacts to be treated with such reverence… Once, the Wrights polluted our entire realm with their supposedly magical silver-white metal. Now, it’s the heathen Nagas and their black ironwork, their life-sucking arrowheads and other such nonsense,’ he declared with gravity.

‘Come now,’ Asvattama said. ‘It would be a pity to forget history. It was the restrictions we imposed on the Nagas’ ironwork, the subjugation we had kept them under these past decades, which has made their weaponry both rare and valuable. If the Nagas begin to trade freely throughout your dominion they would no longer need to push their craft as something elusive, steeped in dark magic and all that. They can sell their products simply and openly for their own gain. But they are now under a different form of subjugation – one that uses economic forces instead of political or social sanctions – and that might again lead to what you call pollution, and science being lost. It’s imperative now, as you well know,
Emperor
, that the Nagas be encouraged to trade, to share their craft. At the very least,’ he added, ‘it would save us the trouble of another bloody scourge in the years to come.’

‘And over time,’ Panchali added, ‘popular demand determines how the craft moves forward – why make arrows and other weapons, if there are no wars? Instead, we can turn our attention to devices that make life more productive for the common people. Instruments that may help us grow more crops, or perform effective medical procedures… Imagine!’

‘There are no maybes,’ Syoddhan said. ‘We could certainly do much. The library at Hastina is a treasure trove of knowledge that becomes mere arcanum with disuse. To put knowledge together with method would create a whole universe of possibilities. You’re right: Imagine. We can do so much, if only we have the courage to…’ He stopped, aware that he was leaning forward, eager, as was Panchali. He was also conscious of a thought that had never occurred to him in all these years, but had just taken hold. What if…? What if it were he who had married Panchali, won her hand? Would he now be Emperor? He would have been a good one, taken Aryavarta forward in the obvious direction. Yet, it was not he, but Dharma, a feeble, prejudiced gardhabha who lorded over them all.

With silent self-recrimination for what he considered purposeless, blind ambition, Syoddhan turned his attention back to a hopeful-looking Panchali, forcing himself to note and then to ignore the becoming spark in her eyes.

Dharma, however, was growing more discomfited by the moment, more so because he felt compelled to condone this mild but open heresy. He directed his words at Panchali and allowed a rough note to enter his voice, one that he could not assume with any of the others in the audience. ‘You presume, my dear, that these tales of heathen magic are nothing more than fantastical creations aimed at creating sensation. What you forget is that there is a greater duty, a higher morality that binds us Aryas; a duty to wipe out all that espouses an unsanctified way of life. The correct, accepted way is one that reflects and recreates Divine Order on earth.’

‘Divine Order doesn’t fill a man’s stomach when the rains fail, or pestilence sweeps through the realm, killing king and commoner alike, Dharma,’ Syoddhan pointed out.

‘My dear Syoddhan, if Divine Order were truly recreated on earth, why would it not rain? Or why would the lands be cursed with pestilence? That is precisely the point. It is not for us to defy destiny, but merely our duty to protect the way of life that submits to it. Anything that subverts the Divine Order – be it called magic, heresy, or science – is to be fought and destroyed. There is no room to question our ultimate allegiance to the gods themselves!’

Sitting tall, Dharma quoted,

‘With civilization comes law,
A remedy for flaw
And both law and social norm
Must weather every storm.

‘When the innocent quail
Know the law has failed.
When rulers forgo what is right,
Know that evil shall delight.

‘There. Did I get that right, Panchali? You are so well versed in these tomes. If only I too had the time to read and study as I wished… But I cannot, and it is one of the many ways in which I must pay for my destiny. But I cannot defy it.’

Panchali made to argue, defiance a lifelong instinct. Yet, wisdom prevailed and she held her tongue. Dharma wanted – no, needed – to establish his moral and temporal authority, given especially their current company. She was merely an instrument and this was yet another part she had to play. She nodded, admitting the Emperor’s point without really apologizing for her own and said, ‘Well, it’s late, and I’m sure you have many things to attend to. Chivalrous warriors that you are, I know you won’t admit you’re bored of my chatter, so I’ll excuse myself while you’re all still awake…’

Panchali left the room, providing the others with an opportunity to close that part of the conversation. Her graceful exit drew a look of appreciation from Syoddhan, but he said nothing.

‘I should go too,’ Asvattama said. Unlike Panchali, he saw no reason to accommodate Dharma and felt himself to be in rare danger of losing his temper.

‘Stay…’ Syoddhan urged, only partly out of courtesy. Asvattama’s presence was not required to keep Dharma’s attention diverted from the outside world, though it did make it a less onerous chore.

Asvattama shook his head. ‘I’m needed back at Ahichhattra… I’ll return in a few days. Why don’t we all hunt together then?’

The men exchanged farewells and, with a polite bow, Asvattama left.

An uncomfortable silence followed his departure as the three who remained found themselves at a loss for conversation. ‘Well, cousin,’ Syoddhan eventually said, ‘what shall we do now? I for one wouldn’t mind a game of dice, given all this talk of it.’

Dharma’s voice was unusually cold. ‘Yes. We shall play dice. They say that a man who turns away from dice is a man who turns away from battle. Let’s test our mettle, shall we? Let’s see if your wagers can match your uncle’s words.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Do you dare play to conquer, Syoddhan? Dice truly is not very different from war. It may well prove why one man is an emperor while another remains just a prince. Destiny.’

‘Surely you jest?’

‘Jest? But of course! Just as you were jesting when you spoke of courage. It is not courage to defy destiny. It is folly.’

‘Folly is sitting down to a game against Shakuni. He is an exceptionally skilled player…’

‘Well, then you should have no problem staking even your kingdom on the game. For my part, the wealth of the Emperor is boundless, and more bountiful than the wealth of virtue that is mine. I am Dharma, and by my word and deed I remain virtuous, free from sin. The gods must reward me, as they always have, irrespective of whether you call on probability or magic… And that, Syoddhan, is the truth of who I am. It is not men who have made me Emperor, but the gods themselves. ‘It’s time all of you understood that. As for talk of courage and folly… Well, it was you who proposed that we play. I have agreed. It is now up to you.’

Syoddhan stared at Dharma, unsure whether he ought to take up the challenge or simply walk away, disgusted as he was. What gave Dharma the right to behave the way he did? Was this what Govinda Shauri had done; was? Was Dharma’s soul now so corrupt that he had forgotten his basic duty as Emperor? Syoddhan made to speak out, but stopped himself. If Dharma took offence, if he left Hastina now, it would put all their plans at risk. He had, over the past few days, made sure that Dharma had received nothing but the most harmless of missives. The one messenger who had brought tidings of troop movements in the west – a fact that required nothing but observation in the normal course of events – had met with an unfortunate accident. But all this was possible only because Dharma was in Syoddhan’s palace, under his influence. If he were to leave… Syoddhan could not afford to let that happen. Gritting his teeth, he readied himself to play his part. ‘As you wish,
cousin
.’