The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 (25 page)

A stunned Govinda stood as he was, fighting back the sudden, unrecognized desire to let tears brim. How, after all that he had done, all that he had been prepared to do, how had it come to this? Had he misjudged the situation so badly? Uluka had come, exactly as expected, but Syoddhan’s rejection of the peace terms was incomprehensible.

He realized the Command Tent was silent and empty save for him, Panchali, Partha and Dharma. Govinda inhaled in a loud gasp, as though he had forgotten to breathe, and turned to the former emperor. Dharma sat calm and composed on his symbolic throne, waiting for the inevitable.

‘I don’t understand…’ Govinda confessed.

Dharma laughed, his response ambiguous in that it was neither warm nor chilling. ‘Neither do I, Govinda. But I am glad he rejected your terms. Dharma the Righteous, you called me. That is who I am. I once told you that I was duty-bound to stand against Syoddhan, for I alone remained free of allegiance to him. It was why I agreed to your plan, to the feint of war. Even so, I cautioned you against bloodshed, and you gave me your assurance that it would not come to that. You have proved your loyalty and intent by your actions, Govinda. It is not your fault that you have failed, and so I could not have made you the sacrificial animal by spilling whose blood we celebrate peace. I am glad.’ Before Govinda could say another word, Dharma stood up and left the tent. Partha followed, solemn but for the storm of uncertainty in his eyes.

It took Govinda a few moments to notice that Panchali had remained behind, and a few moments more to register that her behaviour at the beginning of the evening had been quite inconsistent with the turn of events. Not only had she not shown the grim, confused astonishment that most of the others had greeted him with, she had also been positively cheerful when she had met him in his tent.

He turned to her, his gaze accusatory and searing. Her dark eyes met his with certitude.

33

PANCHALI WALKED TO A NEARBY CHAIR, SAT DOWN AND PREPARED
to face what she knew would come next.

‘How could you!’ Govinda spat out.

She did not reply.

‘Who else knows?’ he demanded.

‘Knows what?’

‘The one secret you had to barter, the one secret big enough to get the Secret Keeper to intervene. Don’t deny it, Panchali. He alone could have had the means and the influence to ensure that Syoddhan was advised to turn down an offer that was meant to be irresistible, and that too against all counsel to the contrary from those he respects and listens to! So tell me: Who knows?’

‘Vidur.’

‘And?’

Panchali hesitated.

‘And? Speak!’ Govinda barked.

‘Shikandin. He…I…I asked him to help me, and he sent word to Vidur through Asvattama.’

‘Yabha! I swear you lot will be the death of me!’ Govinda swore.

The statement drew a fleeting but unmistakable smile from Panchali. ‘That’s a poor choice of words…given the circumstances.’

Govinda was not amused. ‘And Dhrstyadymn?’

’No. He… I was not sure how he’d react. He’s…confused, these days. I did think of telling Dharma, though…’

‘What?’

‘Oh calm down, Govinda! He’d be the last person to talk about it. I doubt he wishes to share this shameful secret of who his wife was… is… It would, no doubt, tarnish his precious Firstborns’ reputation beyond redemption.’

Govinda strode up to Panchali, face contorted with rage. ‘Do you know what a huge risk you took? And do you have any idea how terrible the consequences will now be?’ His voice was a shout as he continued, ‘One man. Me! That’s all it would have taken but, no, Empress Panchali can’t bear to part with her …’

‘Her what, Govinda?’ Panchali’s tone was chilling. ‘Her toy? Her slave? Her lo…’

‘Don’t be disgusting!’ Govinda let the rage flow out of him in a rush. ‘Then why, Panchali? Why?’

Panchali sighed, as though she had rehearsed the explanation several times over. ‘You told me to remember that Narayana would never forsake his Sri. You told me to remember that when you were gone.’

‘So you…’

‘Wait, listen to me! I do not know from which life of mine this question comes, but whenever I have heard that story I have wondered: What is the point of gods who behave like human beings, sentimental human beings? Narayana kept Sri safely hidden even when the world nearly came to an end, for the celestials and demons were at war for a thousand years over her. It seems irrational, does it not? All he had to do was surrender her, forsake her if you will, and a great number of lives would have been saved. But he did not. Why not, Govinda?’

‘Because, Panchali, to forsake Sri would be to forsake the essence of existence itself.’

‘Charming, grand words. But how was existence saved by letting the celestials slaughter each other, not to mention allowing the demons to torment all creatures?’

‘This argument is futile. You’ve totally spoilt my plan, Panchali.’

‘The argument is the same. What is existence, Govinda? The sum total of mortal, transient creatures who breathe in and out at this instant? Or is it the concept of life itself? Narayana refused to forsake Sri because she was the essence of existence. But what meaning does that essence have if existence is not an eternal force? Don’t you see, without Narayana, there is no Sri. You, in turn, are the symbol of the revolution that will transform Aryavarta; you are the one who has brought us to this. I do not claim that you are some god or hero, but to use your own words, you are a product of Time. As am I.’

‘And this is why you…?’ Govinda said, incredulous.

Panchali shrugged. ‘That, and the simple fact that sacrificing you to stop bloodshed is meaningless. It would not achieve the revolution, the change you want. Peace is one thing, revolution is another. You were either impatient or highly optimistic to think one would lead to the other.’

‘Would it not?’

‘No, Govinda, not yet. Bringing the people of Aryavarta to Kurukshetra is a display of their power, but not of their intent. They came here for a cause. Don’t you think the world needs to see, to hear that cause?’

‘And so there must be war?’

‘They will blame it on me – call me a vengeful woman. Or on you… but that hardly matters, does it, after all that we have given up?’

‘No,’ Govinda said. He was less angry, but as yet not fully convinced. ‘Once,’ he said, as though thinking aloud, ‘a long time ago, I gave you up because I argued that to offer to sacrifice that which was so precious was the ultimate duty, the ultimate action of them all. Then, after years, I found you, and I told myself that duty and destiny were but illusions and I would protect you to the end, but…’

‘But… Instead, you had me married to Dharma, you made me Empress of Aryavarta,’ Panchali said. ‘This time because you saw that greater than duty was reason, and reason demanded you sacrifice me in the name of larger good.’

Govinda nodded, ‘Sacrifice an individual for a family, a family for a village, and a village for a nation… It was a trade I had considered worthy till you taught me that compassion was greater than reason; that the system we protect must be worth the sacrifice. A system that could not protect you, one of the people that it was meant to serve, is a failure and so is not worth protecting in turn.’

‘And so you emerged from the despair you had descended into after Dharma had gambled the empire away. Compassion brought you out of that pit of darkness; compassion is what made you say that you can no longer tell the difference between Aryavarta and I. And it was compassion that made you prepare to sacrifice me again. This time not for Aryavarta, but as part of it. And this time the sacrifice would be that I would live with the pain of your death, your dishonour.’

‘You are Sri – the very essence of existence that had to be protected, no matter what the price.’

‘As I said, Govinda, without Narayana, there is no Sri.’

Govinda chose his words carefully, ‘We can argue and debate abstract philosophy all night. That doesn’t change what you have done. It also doesn’t change the fact that I made a mistake. I predicted everyone’s actions but yours, possibly because, despite my claim to the contrary, I never did see you as some abstract instrument of humanity as a whole. You were…personal. You always have been. It was a mistake.’

Panchali tried not to show any reaction, but the pain in her eyes was evident as she said in a hoarse voice, ‘In that case, it is a mistake you have made more than once. And you know what they say about a man who does the same thing over and over, expecting the outcome to be different.’

‘He is called a muhira, a fool.’

‘And you, Govinda Shauri, are no fool. You have determined through your life that greater than apathy is dutiful action, greater than duty is reason, greater than reason is compassion. Yet duty, reason and compassion – karma, jnana and bhakti – are all means to an end, a path, a way. What is the destination, Govinda?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A gwala, a young boy who did not know these staggering words, understood better than the wise Firewright you are now that no matter what we believe in the Truth is One. It exists beyond these names and philosophies. It exists equally for Dharma and Syoddhan, men who believe in duty and Divine Order; it exists equally for the Secret Keeper and all the Firewrights, who believed in reason. It exists for us, Govinda, in compassion. You didn’t need words to see Truth once. I did not know it, but it was that gwala I have trusted all along. It is whom I trust now. My sole regret in life is that I have not met that boy…’ Pausing, Panchali smiled, and continued, ‘I don’t need to have met him. I have placed my faith in humanity, but faith in the universal becomes meaningless without faith in the individual. I trust that there is compassion in every individual, Govinda…just as you do, whether you admit it or not.’

Govinda raised his hands in admission of the argument, even as he continued it. He said, ‘Your faith in the power of the collective is not unfounded, Panchali. But the flaw in your idea is in the assumption that people stay united, that humanity in its entirety can function as a reasoning being. Those who have come together at Kuru’s Fields for this cause will be easily torn apart by war. When your farmers and fishermen lie dead, what then?’

Panchali stood up, proud and straight as though the chair she had been sitting on was no less than the throne of Indra himself. She walked over to Govinda and reached out to take his hand in hers. ‘And that is why we need you. That is why Sri needs Narayana. Once all this is over I shall let you do as you will, but for now, I ask you, not as empress or queen but as a woman of Aryavarta, to see this through. Make your peace with the present.’

Govinda frowned. ‘Your tone is… Frankly, it is not heartening, Panchali. What is it that you know that I don’t?’

Panchali laughed. ‘A rather peculiar choice of words, Govinda, considering that you remember all that I do not.’

‘Some things are a matter of skill, not memory. I have no doubt that you are capable of all that you might have…persuaded…the Secret Keeper to consider.’

‘Then trust me again, as you claim you once did. It is but a short while to dawn, and war is upon us. Despite Dharma’s injunction, we will need you. We will need that gwala who still hides inside you so you can see for yourself what you must now do. Find him, Govinda. We will need him many times over before all this is done.’

‘He said
what
?’ Suka asked, rubbing the remains of a troubled, restless slumber out of his eyes.

Sanjaya felt an inexplicable twinge of jealousy as he took in how charming and youthful the scholar appeared even when woken in the early muhurttas before dawn. He willed it aside and said, ‘It’s true. Syoddhan refused the offer of peace. And he did so, he claims, in the interest of the Firstborn. He said to allow Dharma’s reign a trasenu atom’s worth of legitimacy was to question Divine Order on earth. The Grandsire Bhisma, too, agreed.’

A flicker of consternation showed on his brows, and then Suka regained his composure. ‘Very well. War it is. But the world that emerges on the other side of the fire of death and doom will be as I wish it to be. Sanjaya, I will need you here, at Hastina. Your task is to relay all developments on the battlefield to King Dhritarastra, as he requests, but I expect you to keep me abreast of all developments. Use the white doves, they are faster.’

‘You plan to leave?’

‘Yes. In the morning, we shall return – all of us Firstborn scholars – to my father’s hermitage. Join us there when this is done, Sanjaya. You know he’ll be happy to see you.’

‘He’ll be happy to see me? With all due respect, Acharya, this… this is not what we had planned.’

Suka was curt. ‘Do you doubt me, Sanjaya? Do you not trust me?’

‘I do, but…’

‘In that case, this conversation is over. Now, let me sleep!’

A reluctant Sanjaya bowed, and made his way out of the room. Suka watched him leave. He shut the door and made his way to the simple reed mat that served as his bed, even in the luxuriant palace of Hastina, but then decided against sleep. He went to stand by the windows and looked out. The rain had passed, and the moon now cast a gentle light over everything in sight. Suka held up a hand towards the silver beams that he knew he could not hold. He stilled his mind. Either way, he reassured himself, this would end as he had hoped. For all the bargains and barters that had been made this one night, there still remained one last move, the ultimate stroke of Suka’s plan.

Give me the present and I will give you the future
, Govinda had said, and Suka had been right to accept that bargain. After all, it was the Vyasa who would decide what was to be remembered as the history of Aryavarta; he would determine how the curious and complicated story of these times would be told. And as with every good story, the noble would win. Rather, the ultimate prize gained by those who won would be nobility.

It was why, Suka mused, Divine Order was infallible and their chosen ones always emerged victorious. Those who survived, those who lived to tell the tale, became the gods and their faithful. Those without a voice had no choice but to become demons.