The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 (54 page)

‘Doom?’ Govinda laughed. ‘Yes, I once believed that we were doomed. I thought the only hope was to overcome human frailty and become creatures of dispassion and reason. Yet, the greatest mystery, the greatest wonder of creation is that we are capable of both relentless reason and boundless love… It is not about what we are, but what we can become. That is why the ancients once said that perhaps the Primordial Creator knows the answers, or perhaps even he knows them not. Where you see the unknown and call it nothingness, I see our limitless potential. I see Vasudeva Narayana, asleep on the Endless Ocean. He will wake, and that is how we transform and go on, from age to age…’

‘You do your teacher great credit, my son,’ Dwaipayana admitted. ‘You make me wish that the honour had been mine…’

‘But it is, Acharya, in more ways that you know. I say this without malice or spite…’

‘If that’s the case, will you forgive this old man if he calls you a fool, Govinda?’

‘But of course, and I wouldn’t expect you to say otherwise. Your world is a different world. Your world is one where love is requited, and sacrifice has meaning. My world, the world around us now and that of the future is a place where love and justice both fail, and we have no choice but to accept it in the name of destiny. All action and all compassion is in vain. Tell me, what about this way of life is worth saving?

Dwaipayana said, ‘It is sacrilege to question divinity. It is also as irrelevant as it is irreverent. You are an aberration, and aberrations are doomed to fail. They must fail; embraced and stifled by the very flow of things that you try to subvert.’

‘Your faith in the system is overwhelming. And it proves my point,’ Govinda said.

‘It also affirms that when we are done philosophizing and exchanging pithy words, I will still smite you down in a way you cannot imagine. It is a trade
you
made, remember? I gave you the present, but in exchange for the future. It is for me to now choose what tale will be told, and I assure you that neither my kin nor I shall come out the worse for it.’

Govinda shook his head. ‘This story began generations before you or I were born. Bharata, the first of Aryavarta’s Emperors, was as much of Angirasa blood as he was of Varuni descent…’

‘Indeed, the line of nobility has been contaminated time again by heretics and the ignoble.’

‘Have you tried explaining that to Sanjaya? He has tales of his own.’

‘Yes,’ Dwaipayana sighed. ‘I should have realized that it would be difficult for him to understand…’

The conversation ebbed as the scholar stared into the distance. The bustle and clanging that had been the war was now absent. Occasionally, a bird or two chirped or the wind whistled through the tentpoles. But that was all. The war was over. Only silence remained.

Dwaipayana closed his eyes, and with effort began, ‘My mother… Satya… I sometimes wonder if my father knew that she was a Firewright, after all. He may have thought it was the ultimate triumph, that a Firewright should bear the child of a Firstborn scholar. Or maybe he didn’t care. My mother was a woman of honour. She wanted the Wrights destroyed, just as my father did. There was no denying that…’

‘Didn’t you ask her why?’

‘Why she turned against her own? Of course I knew why…’

‘Then
you
understand why I…?’

‘No, Govinda; I said I knew why. When Princess Satya, as she was then, realized that the terrible weapons that the Wrights made in ones and twos could, with some change, be made in huge numbers, she was right to fear for the future. That is what binds us, Govinda; that is what binds the three of us: that we saw the huge danger that awaited Aryavarta. Who knows, one day you may learn to see from my point of view after all…’

‘No, Acharya. The bond exists, but not quite as you think. You believe in controlling power. I believe in tempering it with compassion. Your solution, unlike your mother’s, would have been to raze not just the Wrights but also the people of Matsya to the ground so as to punish them for daring to tamper with Divine Order. The Princess, on the other hand, sought to remove the source of the problem. She turned against her own and, with your father, hoped to destroy the Wrights completely.’

‘And you, Govinda? Or will you now pretend that you’re a preserver, a creature of mercy?’

‘I too hope to destroy power. I hope to shatter it, wherever it’s concentrated. No, let me restate that: Time, the Greatest Destroyer of all will shatter power wherever it’s concentrated. You and I, we are both merely the instruments of Time…’

Dwaipayana hissed through clenched teeth, ‘Look around you! This is not the consequence of mere instruments. You are either a god or a demon, for no one else can be so flippant with destiny and divinity.’

‘I don’t know what Divinity is,’ Govinda admitted, ‘but I do know that it’s worth searching for, just as I know that it can only be found within. And that is the immutable truth, irrespective of the legends that we clothe it in.’

‘Each one of us a god?’ Dwaipayana asked, contemptuous.

‘You can put it that way if you wish, but I don’t like that idea. You see, you believe in superiority, inferiority, in hierarchies. My words sound heretic to you, because you think I elevate myself to the level of the gods. I, on the other hand, believe in oneness. There is no superiority or inferiority when all you have is one being…’

‘I can understand why everyone adores you, Govinda. Even your blasphemy has a charm of its own, but it is blasphemy all the same. There may be limits to reason, but not to Truth, which is why we need gods; we need to know that there is something beyond us.’

‘We need to know there’s something beyond us, yes; but we also need that something to be alive, vital, full of potential and benevolence. It cannot be some immutable order, however divine. It cannot be destiny.’

Dwaipayana studied Govinda. The warrior was trying hard to do justice to the debate, but weariness was catching up with him. The old scholar said, ‘This war between you and me was no less than the war that raged on in the fields outside. Well fought!’

‘Thank you, Acharya.’

Dwaipayana thought for a while, and then said, ‘Will you do something for me, Govinda; something for an old man who has given his life in service to these lands?’

‘I am at your disposal, Acharya.’

‘Spare Sanjaya.’ He hesitated and added, ‘In the name of the one who is now Secret Keeper, I ask you this. He would not, I know, deny me this request. I ask you to show me the same favour.’

Govinda could not hide his astonishment. Nor, he realized, did he want to. He felt lighter all of a sudden, as though he no longer carried the burden of a secret alone. And then, as he saw how heavy the truth weighed on the old Dwaipayana, his release gave way to pity. He understood why the scholar had fought to defend his point of view, tried so hard to explain the reasoning behind his actions. Dwaipayana’s defeat was now complete and, the old man knew it. ‘How…?’ he asked.

‘He told me,’ Dwaipayana said. ‘He told me about it all. What better place to hide the Secret Keeper of the Firewrights – and not just any Secret Keeper, but the one on whom all hopes of the future rested – than nestled in the heart of the Firstborn Order? Was it your idea?’

‘It was her idea. Agniveshya’s daughter.’ Govinda breathed in deep, as though the smell of lotuses lingered in his thoughts of her, and repeated, ‘It was all her idea.’

‘And what would she want for Sanjaya?’

Govinda smiled. ‘As you wish, Acharya.’

Dwaipayana stood up and said, ‘Varuna protect you, Govinda. May you live long.’ He left, aided by a young acolyte Govinda had not seen before. The two scholars briefly blocked the sunlight that filtered through the narrow opening of the tent, and then they were gone.

Govinda turned to his brother and instructed, ‘Let Sanjaya go. And tell Dharma to send Yuyutsu to Hastina right away. He is not to go to the palace, but straight to Vidur. This isn’t about enforcing a claim; we need to make sure that the people are safe in these changing times. Also, tell Dhrstyadymn to double the guards around our camp. This isn’t over as long as Syoddhan lives.’

Balabadra flinched at the mention of Syoddhan – his old student and dear friend. He nevertheless stood up and made to leave, to carry out Govinda’s instructions. Turning back at the entrance to the tent, he observed, ‘He won’t spare you, you know,’ he observed. ‘Dwaipayana: He appears a benevolent old man but his mind remains sharp, and his wrath just as fiery.’

‘Then I shall pay the price.’

‘I hope it was worth it, Govinda. For we shall all pay the price with you.’

‘You tell me whether it was a worthy sacrifice, Agraja. An individual for a family, a village for a kingdom… an Empire for Humanity.’

37

SYODDHAN SAT ON A WELL-ROUNDED ROCK; EXAMINING THE
armour that Dron had given him during the war. Wright-metal.
The armour of Indra himself
… With a sigh, he cast it aside and resumed his activity of throwing pebbles into the glimmering lake.

‘Why did you come here?’ he asked the tall warrior who stood nearby.

‘Because I owe you my allegiance.’

‘And what would you want your liege-lord to do now, Asvattama? Fight at your side? Make a last stand?’

‘But of course!’

Syoddhan laughed, the sound hollow. ‘No, what’s the point of doing that?’

‘But…’

‘I’m no coward, Asvattama. I just don’t see any reason you should die… Aryavarta needs men like you, brave men who can defend it. There is no point in you wasting your life… Go to Hastina and offer your assistance to my father; there is much to be done. Whether you will serve Dharma or not is your choice, but for now, I still am the ruler of this realm. Help me care for my people.’

‘What do you mean, Syoddhan?’

‘I’ve asked Dharma and his brothers to meet me here, so that I can speak with them. It’s best you go now.’

‘And? What would you have me tell Kritavarman and Uncle Kripa? That I ran away, leaving you here alone?’

‘Tell them that you followed your king’s orders. I mean it, Asvattama, I order you to go!’

‘Syoddhan, please…’

‘Go!’

Defeated, Asvattama acquiesced. ‘All right.’

‘Wait!’

Syoddhan chuckled as the other man turned back, hope alight in his eyes. He then turned grim. ‘Have you any news of Sanjaya?’

‘No, but I promise you, Syoddhan, I’ll slit his throat as soon as I see him, the murdering scum.’

‘And add to my sins of fratricide? First Vasusena, now Sanjaya…’ He shook his head. ‘It’s bad enough they’ve spent their lives deprived of their right as princes… No, Asvattama, promise me that Sanjaya won’t be harmed.’

‘But why? After all that he has done…’

‘He had his reasons. In his place, I might have done the same. We deprived him of his rightful status, we drove him to empathize with what he’d been taught was the dark stain upon his family – his great-grandmother and his grandmother, both Firewrights, both women of courage and defiance. He served the Vyasa, yes, but in his heart Sanjaya has always been a Wright… Did you know this?’ Syoddhan asked Asvattama.

‘I suspected as much. Especially about his great-grandmother… And when he turned up at Hastina with Devala in tow there was no longer room for doubt. For what it’s worth, Syoddhan, it would not have changed anything between us. Even…’ he hesitated under the weight of his own admission, before saying, ‘Even the Secret Keeper could not change anything between us.’

‘I know. You make me think that the Wrights can’t be half as bad as the Firstborn made them out to be… Or will you still give us your old line, that you are an Angirasa but not a Firewright!’

The two friends laughed together for the last time, their voices ringing through the woods around them.

‘I needed that…’ Syoddhan confessed. Standing up, he embraced Asvattama for what he knew might be the last time. ‘Go now, before Dharma arrives… I want to do this alone.’

Asvattama bowed deep, as he would only before the greatest of men. ‘Rudra protect you, my king,’ he wished Syoddhan and walked into the woods.

Syoddhan could hear Asvattama untie his horse and ride away. Still smiling, he sat down again at the lake’s edge and continued to entertain himself with the pebbles, watching the dancing ripples on the water’s surface with all the wonder of a child. After a while, he heard footsteps followed by a hushed exchange.

‘There he is.’

‘Maybe it’s a trap?’

‘No,’ Govinda’s familiar voice affirmed, as he emerged from the woods into the small glade. Syoddhan was filled with joy as he recognized the man who just behind Govinda.

‘Balabadra!’ Syoddhan was on his feet, bowing low to his mentor. Balabadra was lost for words, but the anguish on his face said it all. Syoddhan, however, was less dismayed. He said, ‘Come now. It is time your student made you proud. I shall live through this with honour or die with dignity. Either way, victory is mine!’

He smiled at Govinda, who nodded at him in greeting but otherwise remained impassive. Then Syoddhan went forward to meet Dharma, but paused, surprised to see Panchali and her brothers.

Syoddhan found himself thinking of the day of Dharma’s coronation decades ago, of the few words he and Panchali had shared by a sparkling pond with its exquisite fountain. For the first time he noticed how she looked much like she had that day. Her eyes were still the same haunting, hypnotic ones he remembered from the archery contest at Kampilya, but her bearing had become wiser, stronger, slightly cruel, as an Empress ought to be.

With a wistful smile, Syoddhan turned away from her to adress Dharma. ‘So, my brother, let us end this where it all began, generations ago…’

Dharma was unimpressed. ‘I see. You’ll now lay the blame on our forefathers, will you?’ He glanced around him, and said, ‘Ah yes, the barren tract that was once a riverbed. All that remains of life here is this small lake. Yes, a memorable place for Firewright and Firstborn both. But I fail to see what it has to do with you, Syoddhan.’

‘Never mind,’ Syoddhan waved it aside. ‘You once asked me to make peace with you and I refused. I can’t expect you to believe that I had little choice but to refuse or that I have wanted nothing more than peace, with all my heart. Now I have nothing left to restrain me, neither friend nor enemy… And so, Dharma, I ask you now for peace. Peace on any terms you want. Aryavarta is yours, and you are its lawful Emperor. Take anything, everything you want…’