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Chapter Eighteen

The forest was unfriendly, and wild, and to Kunti, used as she was to a life in a palace, this place seemed like an enemy. An enemy that sought not just to make life difficult, but which sought to end that very life. Time spent in the forest had not dimmed her dislike if it nor made her reconciled to her lot. But she knew her lot was better than many others. They still had the dasas and dasis to cater to their daily needs, they still had chariots and charioteers to take them to another part of the forest, the guard that accompanied them were good enough for protection and for hunting, and therefore, they never had to worry about finding food.

But even with all that, she was still nothing but the wife of an exiled prince. And the guards, the sutas, the dasas, were all here out of Dhritarashtra’s mercy. Gandhari, who had ever envied her, was now the queen, and she, the rightful queen was reduced to a life of poverty, all because of an ill-judged action of her husband, and the false morality of Bheeshma. She still had no clue as to how to salvage the situation. Her cheeks burned as she thought of how Vidura had laughed at her when she’d declared her intention to have her son as the King of Hastinapura.

“And how do you propose to have a son when you’ve an impotent husband?” He’d mocked.

She’d had no answers then, and even less now.

“Kunti,” Pandu’s voice broke into her thoughts. She looked at him in question. He was thinner, but still looked regal. Even his unnaturally pale complexion gave him an ethereal appearance. Only a fool would take him to be a forest dweller. He looked every inch a King, and her heart pained to see him in hermit’s attire.

“So deep in thought?” His tone was light and teasing as he sat next to her. The tree under which they sat was large and shady, and the prominent and thick roots were spacious enough to sit, though hard. But they both preferred it to the mossy ground. Neither of them were used to sitting on the ground.

“Not so deep,” she parried, just as lightly, though her gaze on him was intent enough to know he had some purpose in coming to her now. He wasn’t here for a chat. He was too tense for that.

“I’ve a favour to ask you?”

Her eyes went wide with surprise. “A favour?”

He fidgeted, avoiding her eyes for a moment before squaring his shoulders and looking at her with determination. “Kunti, you know that a man without sons is cursed. The gates of heaven are forever barred to such a one. You also know that Niyoga is an acceptable practice for a Kshatriya woman when her husband is dead or unable to give her offspring.”

She lifted her hand to stop him. The gesture was imperious, and it shocked him into silence.

“I’m your wife!” She hissed, her voice throbbing with anger. “And you’re not yet dead. How dare you ask me to sleep with another man!”

His shoulders slumped. “Kunti… I’m… I can’t give you children.”

“I know. Haven’t I known from the start? Why do you think it matters to me now?”

She was furious. True, she wanted a son to regain her lost status, but not like this. A part of her was hoping her husband would somehow become a real man. But to sleep with another man even for the purpose of having a child was abhorrent. But a part of her was urging her to accede, to give in. After all, a son could be her salvation.

“I received a message from Vidura,” Pandu said heavily. “Sister Gandhari is pregnant.”

Kunti wanted to scream. It was so unfair! First Gandhari stole her position as queen, and now her son would be the future King! But she remained obstinately silent. Pandu gazed at her and them said, his voice steady, “Shall I ask Madri?”

Kunti cringed. If Madri had a son, she would be elevated above her. She, Kunti would forever be relegated to the background. It was inconceivable.

“I’ll do it,” she said, her voice hard. “But if Gandhari is already pregnant, it will not do any good.”

“I’ve faith in Vidura,” Pandu said. “He’ll contrive something.”

“And why should he do that for us? He hates us?”

“He hates me,” Pandu corrected her. “He desires you. Which is why I’ve decided he’ll father our son. That’ll give him an incentive to help us. Also, you know what everyone says about him. He has a reputation for following Dharma.”

Kunti could only marvel at the cold-bloodedness and also the acumen of her husband. But then, he was a Kuru, so perhaps it was not so surprising after all. But Vidura… she hated him. How could she allow him to touch her? The very thought of being with him revolted her.

She took a deep breath. “Tell him to be here in a fortnight for my fertile period. But I’ve a condition. No one shall ever know who sired this child. Tell them the devas did, if you will. But no one shall ever learn the truth!”

“The child will have to know,” Pandu said. “But no one else will. I promise.”

“All right,” she nodded. “Send word to him. Make sure no one knows.”

He dipped his head in acquiescence as he rose, a smile of triumph hovering over his lips. She suppressed the rage which choked her at that sight. All this humiliation was going to be worth it. Once she had a son, it would all be worth it.

Chapter Seventeen

The streets were decorated with flowers and garlands hung at every corner. The whole city wore a festive atmosphere. Hastinapura was decked out like a new bride. There were celebrations at the palace too. Designs of flowers and coloured powders added to the decorations.

“What’s the celebrations for?” Vasushena asked Radha as he helped her fill the earthen lamps with oil.

“The queen is pregnant,” Radha replied, her gaze lingering fondly on her eldest son. Vasusena was eight, though he appeared older since he was taller and larger than boys his age. Looking at him, it was difficult to believe that he’d been so sickly once that his parents had despaired for his life daily.

“I see,” Vasushena said, though it was evident he did not. He wasn’t old enough yet to understand why the queen having a child is a cause for celebration. It was doubtful whether any of the citizens of Hastinapura understood why so great a celebration was made, though most of the women thought they understood. The King and the Queen had been married for years. No wonder everyone was excited about the queen’s pregnancy!

Vasushena helped his mother set out the lamps. Next, he helped her hang the flower garlands at the door, and on the windows. Their house had been cleaned for the celebrations. The King and the Prime Minister accompanied by the queen’s brother would be driving through the city, to distribute clothes and rice, though everyone knew that most of it would go to the Brahmanas. But the others would also get something, and since the day was a holiday, and food was being served free to all at the palace, everyone was happy for the royal couple.

Atiratha and Sangramajith came in to the house, bringing more flowers. Vasushena caught his brother’s eye, and the young child nodded surreptitiously.

“May we go to play, now?” Vasushena asked plaintively.

Radha laughed. “Of course. Your father will help me now.”

She hugged her sons and watched them scamper away.

“I hope they won’t get into any trouble.” Atiratha said, as he kept the basket of flowers in the courtyard. Radha was already drawing designs on the soil for the flower arrangements.

“Why should they?” Radha asked. “They’ll be with all the other children. They’ll be fine.”

Atiratha did not think he needed to cause any worry in his wife by informing her that Vasushena had started going into the forest all by himself. He had heard from Madana the previous day, who heard his son Bhadra talking about it with Asmita. According to Madana, the boys were speculating on what Vasushena was doing in the forest. Atiratha hoped none of the other boys would follow his son into the forest. He had meant to talk to Vasushena too, but the day had been just too busy. Of course, it was possible that Vasushena was not frequenting the place, but had simply gone there once out of curiosity. It was natural after all. The forest jutted out to the river bank, and boys would be curious about the tales they’ve heard.

In the meanwhile, Vasushena and Sangramajith had both reached the playground. None of the girls were there today, but most of the boys were. Sangrama moved towards the children near his age while Vasu gravitated to the group of his peers. Veera grinned at him.

“Ready for some lessons?” He asked.

“Always,” Vasu grinned back.

“You’re going to teach him how to wrestle?” Asmita demanded. “He’ll become even more insufferable!”

“Much as I hate to agree with Asmita on anything, I have to say he’s right,” Bhadra said.

“So unfortunate then that Veera doesn’t share your views,” Vasu laughed.

“I agree with the insufferability part,” Veera winked. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t make a good wrestler. And who knows, getting thrashed every now and then might teach you some humility.”

Vasu snorted. “Look who’s talking.”

They walked to one corner of the playground, Bhadra and Asmita following them.

“The first thing you need, is to learn the stance. Just watch me.”

Veera stood with his feet slightly apart and then bent his knees slightly, arching his back, and then brought his hands in front of his body.

“Did you get that?”

“Let me try,” Vasu said, copying the stance. Legs slightly apart, bending his knees and arching his back, and bringing his hands to the front.

“Good,” Veera said. “Stand there for a moment. Now, you have to understand that your opponent is always trying to knock you off balance, and so you have to make it difficult for him. You have to be moving, but your weight is to be distributed evenly between both feet, so you won’t be caught off balance. Keeping your legs further apart will help, but you need to be mobile too, so be on the balls of your feet.”

“This is boring,” Asmita complained. “When are you going to teach him how to wrestle?”

“I’m teaching him how to wrestle,” Veera said. “But if he doesn’t learn how to stand, move, and keep on his feet, he won’t be able to wrestle. It is not just about punching and catching.”

“Doesn’t make it any less boring,” Bhadra muttered as he sauntered off. Asmita followed him, waving to Vasu.

“We’ll just practice the stance today,” Veera said, ignoring the two. He lowered his voice. “Afterwards we can go to the forest, and you can show me your archery.”

Vasushena smiled. “I’ll. I’m not too good at it yet. But my arrows are missing by a foot instead of a mile, so there’s some improvement.”

Veera chuckled. “Keep practicing those stances. And try to move a bit. Sometimes wrestlers forget to move quickly. And sometimes both feet doesn’t move the same way. That gives your opponent a chance to fell you.”

Vasu nodded, as he moved on the balls of his feet, as Veera showed him. Veera showed how to shift his stance while moving, and Vasu moved the same. Soon, both boys were moving the same way, almost like a dance.

“Are you two going to be doing this all day?” Bhadra griped as he came over again to have a look.

“Yes,” Veera replied, not breaking the movement. Both of them moved fluidly, easily, and the initial stiffness of Vasu’s movements had now gone, and he was smiling.

“It’s still boring,” Bhadra shook his head as he walked away again to where some of the others were playing ball.

“Can we go now?” Veera asked softly. “None of them are looking this way.”

“Yes,” Vasu nodded. “We’ll just slip away.”

None of the others noticed the two boys slipping away into the woods.

Chapter Sixteen

There was a nip in the air that day. The corridor through which King Dhritarashtra was led to his chambers by Vidura, was open on one side. It was partly a balcony that ran through the outer perimeter of the palace, before it made a right turn to enter the palace. The King and the Prime Minister were conversing in undertones so that the guards would not be able to hear.

“Is all this really necessary?” Dhritarashtra muttered. “What’s going to happen if they hear us?”

“They’re all uncle’s men,” Vidura replied, keeping his head slightly lowered, the King’s hand on his shoulder. “Personally, I wouldn’t trust them not to report any of our conversations to him.”

“And what is so secret about our conversations that it shouldn’t reach uncle’s ears?” At Vidura’s behest, Dhritarashtra too had lowered his head.

“The topic of our conversation is irrelevant,” Vidura said. “There’s no reason why the conversation between the King and the Prime Minister should be reported to the Senapati.”

“You could have a point,” Dhritarashtra conceded. “Or you could just be paranoid. We don’t even know uncle is spying on us.”

“Not through spies,” Vidura murmured, “They’re still in my hands. But definitely through his soldiers. And in some ways, they’re just as effective as spies since they’re everywhere in this palace.”

“So, we speak in whispers, and keep our heads lowered? Why are we keeping our heads lowered anyway?”

“All my spies are adept at reading lips,” Vidura’s tone was bland. “I can’t take a chance that at least some of your guards could be well versed in the art.”

“I still think you’re being paranoid.”

“And I think you’re underestimating the efficiency of the spy networks that we have,”

“How come you have spy networks, and uncle too? Shouldn’t I be the one having spy networks? I’m King after all,”

“That would be logical. But not very practical. The spies I control are all on behalf of the King, and some of the news they bring are not important enough to warrant your attention. It is my job to separate the wheat from the chaff. Otherwise, all your time could be taken up with unnecessary matters.”

“But the same doesn’t apply for the spies uncle maintain?”

“He doesn’t have spies, he has soldiers who report to him. You can’t expect them to report to you, or for uncle to admit he’s spying on you.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if he’s not spying on me?”

“He spied on Pandu, who was his favourite. Why shouldn’t he spy on you?”

“How do you know he spied on Pandu?”

“How else did he know of Kindama’s death before any messenger arrived?”

Dhritarashtra frowned. “You think he forced Pandu to abdicate, don’t you?”

“I know he forced Pandu to abdicate,” replied Vidura.

“I know you don’t like Pandu, but aren’t you being unjust?”

“Unjust? How?”

“By imputing Pandu couldn’t do the right thing.”

“So you think that abdication was the right thing to do.”

“Of course! He killed a sage. What else was there to do?”

“In spite of what the sage was doing at the time Pandu killed him?”

“Does that make any difference? If Kindama did wrong, that’s between him and his conscience. Pandu did not have the right to judge him.”

“Pandu was King.”

“And Kindama was a sage and therefore beyond his authority.”

“I can’t agree with that.”

“All the Kings who have ever messed with sages have come off worse. Pandu should’ve remembered that,” Dhritarashtra sounded defensive.

“So, it’s not about whether Pandu had the authority, or whether he was right, but that Pandu should’ve realized there are consequences and so shouldn’t have done it.”

Dhritarashtra frowned. “I know you’re clever. You don’t have to twist my words and argue with me to prove it. I just feel… that Pandu did wrong in killing Kindama.”

“Naturally,” Vidura said drily. “Since that helped you become King.”

“You hold me in contempt, don’t you?” Dhritarashtra asked after a moment.

“Actually, I don’t,” Vidura said contemplatively. “Pandu I held in contempt, but not you. And even if I did, it is not for the reasons you think.”

“You mean, my blindness doesn’t bother you.”

“I don’t see why it should.”

“It seems to bother everyone else,”

“We’ve reached your chambers.”

Vidura stepped away from the King as the guards opened the doors to the room, and led the King inside. They withdrew, as the King’s own servants and attendants took over.

Dhritarashtra was stripped, and was led to a table where he was oiled, massaged, and later led to a pool to be washed. Once he was dressed, he was led to the Anthahpurah to the queen’s chambers where his wife was waiting for him.

“You seem tense,” Gandhari said, as she placed her hand on her husband’s arm. Her maids and the King’s servants had all withdrawn from the room, leaving them alone. “What happened?”

“Vidura,” Dhritarashtra sighed, as he groped his way to the bed, and sat down on it. “I don’t know if he’s mocking me or not.”

“That is all?”

“He says uncle’s guards are spying on us.”

Gandhari was silent, though her hand tightened on her husband’s arm. “I hope not,” she said now, worried. “If so, it means that uncle doesn’t trust you.”

“I think I should have my own spies,” Dhritarashtra said, frowning. “I don’t like it that Vidura gets to pick and choose what news from the spies comes to me. I need my own spies to spy on him and uncle.”

Gandhari sighed. “I think you should leave them to do their jobs. All this intrigue… you aren’t suited for that.”

Dhritarashtra deflated. “I know. It was just a thought.”

“If it’s important to you, I shall send word to my brother.”

“Sakuni?”

“Yes. He has been handling everything for my father for so many years. He can advise you.”

“But he’ll be needed in Gandhara, won’t he?”

“A short visit won’t do any harm. And if he feels you should have spies of your own, he’ll train them too.”

“Neither Vidura nor uncle likes Sakuni,” Dhritarashtra sounded thoughtful.

Gandhari stiffened. “He’s my brother. And what does it matter what they feel? Aren’t you the King?”

“So I am. Let’s invite Sakuni,”

Gandhari smiled.

Chapter Fifteen

The forest glade was quiet. The dasis and dasas were all asleep. The fire that was built in the centre of the clearing to keep away the animals was still burning brightly. One of the dasas wrapped in a blanket sat near it, to stoke it and to replenish it with firewood.

In the large hut, Pandu was asleep in his room, and his wives shared the smaller bedroom. Madri, her mind untroubled by dreams of grandeur or by ambitions, fell asleep immediately. It was not so easy for Kunti. She who had cherished grand ambitions of being a queen of some great king, of a great kingdom had been constrained to marry an impotent man. And to add to her shame, a co-wife had been forced on her, and now, nothing but ignominy awaited her. She sat up and slipped out of bed without waking Madri and stood staring out of the window. If her husband was not impotent, the situation could still be salvaged. If she were to give birth to his son before a son was born to Gandhari, she could still claim the throne of Hastinapura for her son. But how was she to manage it when her husband was impotent?

Her thoughts turned to her first child, whom she’d hired assassins to drown. Had he lived now, perhaps she could have convinced her husband to adopt him. But it was too late, and being a practical woman, Kunti did not dwell for long in what-ifs. She had to find a way to either have her husband reinstated as King or to have a child whom the world will accept as his.

A movement by the fire attracted her attention. It seemed she was not the only one not able to sleep. Vidura stood by the fire, holding out his hands, warming it. At his sight, her fury blazed again. This man was the real author of all her misfortunes! If his cursed spies had not caught one of the assassins and had he not told Vidura about her, he could not have forced her to marry the impotent King of Hastinapura. She closed her eyes and willed herself to calm down. Perhaps she could use him as he’d sought to use her.

She went out of the room, and out of the hut, standing in the verandah for a moment. The dasa had his back to her, but Vidura could see her. She came down the steps and walked towards the back of the hut, to where the dasas had planted a small garden. It was still a few straggly plants, but there were a few Jasmines among them that were already blooming. She stood there inhaling their fragrance. The full moon hung low in the sky, and gave a ghostly aspect to the surroundings.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Asked a voice from behind.

“I could ask you the same,” she said without turning around.

“And I can ask you what is your purpose in this,” he replied.

She turned around to face him, but his face was in shadow.

“My purpose?” She demanded.

“Let’s not pretend. You abhor me. And yet, you have deliberately lured me here. I wish to know why.”

“You blackmailed me into marrying an impotent man. You are responsible for my plight today. Do you wonder that I hate you?”

“I did my uncle’s bidding,” said Vidura. “Not that that’s any excuse, but… to refuse to do as he said would have been…. risky.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There were rumours,” said Vidura. “All this was before I was born, but my mother being a dasi at one time was privy to most of them…”

“What rumours?” She asked, still frowning. It did not surprise her that Bheeshma’s had been the plan to blackmail her. She’d seen the calculation in his eyes, and knew him to be a dangerous adversary. He’d proved it when he’d arranged Pandu’s marriage to Madri, when he’d arranged Pandu to go on the Dig Vijaya, and again when he’d forced Pandu to abdicate.

“It was said, Bheeshma couldn’t become King of Hastinapura because he had to swear an oath to relinquish the throne and to remain celibate. It was rumoured to be a pre-condition for his father’s marriage to Satyavati, the Queen mother.”

Kunti gasped. “He must have been a very young man at the time. How could his father have forced him to take such an oath?”

“It was said King Santanu did not force him, and he took the oath on his own, for his father’s happiness. But I guess he’s only human, and in later years, it must have rankled. Anyway, Bheeshma had two half-brothers. Chitrangada who was elder was installed as King, and met his demise at the hands of a Gandharva soon after.” Vidura paused. “At the time, there were mutterings about his death.”

“But he died in battle, didn’t he?” She was confused.

“Yes, but where was the Senapati while the Maharaja was doing battle? Where was the invincible warrior, the great Bheeshma?”

“That’s just conjecture,” she said automatically, even while his mind accepted and admired the strategy of the Senapati.

“Maybe. Then Vichitravirya was made King though he was still a boy. Rumours abounded about the new King’s excesses, but why did his elder brother never attempt to check him?”

“Whatever that might be, the King died of Rajayakshma,” said Kunti dismissively. It was Ambalika, her mother-in-law who’d told her the story. Of how her husband had died of that dreaded disease. Of how she and her sister had to go through Niyoga to beget children for the dynasty.

“Did he?” Asked Vidura. “I’m no Vaidya, but even I know that Rajayakshma is a lingering illness, it wastes away a man. Vichitravirya died suddenly, vomiting blood, and Bheeshma was the first at his side, and he said Rajayakshma and the court Vaidya nodded.”

Kunti shivered. “All this is… it’s just rumours….”

“Yes,” said Vidura. “Worse, the palace servants’ rumours…. but…. a lot of dasas and dasis who’d spread the rumours disappeared with their families…. some lost their tongues…. the rumours stopped after that…. As I said, it’s not- wise to cross the will of Bheeshma. I know I wronged you, but there’s nothing either of us can do about the situation.”

“I think you enjoyed it,” she said relentlessly.

“Perhaps I did,” he said. “Perhaps I’d still enjoy watching you squirm. But… there’s no purpose in any of it now… I’ve lost, and so have you.”

“I haven’t lost yet.” She said. “And I won’t if you’ll help me.”

“Help you with what? There’s nothing you can do now!”

“What if there is?” Asked Kunti, her face determined. It was his turn to frown and to look confused.

“How?” He asked. “And even if there is, I can’t promise to help.”

“Since my husband cannot be King of Hastinapura,” said Kunti, “I’m determined my son would be.” She fixed him with a challenging and penetrating glance. “And you’re going to help me do it.”

Chapter Fourteen

It was a warm day. There was a large area near the river which the children had earmarked for their playground. The girls had marked one corner for their own and the boys another. There was a common area, where both together had planted a garden. The children had marked the area for their own using stones, and since the area was mostly sand and grass, and bounding the woods, the adults did not object. The entire area was circular and the boys had a semi circle and the girls another with a strip of land in between where the plants grew.

The boys’ area had a fence made of planks, and a small gate opening to the garden. The girls’ area had a fence too, but flowering creepers were planted along its length. The boys’ wrestled, played with balls, stones, ran races and when they got tired of all that, went to swim in the river. The open part of their area led to the woods on one side, and sometimes, they went into the woods, though they never went far. The playground that day was full of the shouts of children. A wrestling match was about to begin in the boys’ area. Some soldiers were also standing there, a whole troop of them, taking a lot of interest in the proceedings.

The two opponents were circling each other warily. Both were tall, around eight, but one was better proportioned than the other.

“Vasushena shall win,” predicted one toddler.

“You say that because he’s your brother,” said an older boy, aged around nine. “Veera will pound him to the ground!”

“No, bhrata Vasushena will certainly win!” Chirped the toddler again, looking mulish. He was around three.

“I hope so, Sangrama,” said another older boy aged around eight standing near him. “All my money is on your brother.”

“Be prepared to lose it then, Asmita!” Laughed another boy, who was around ten. “Vasushena may be large, but he won’t be able to move Veera.”

“It’s not about size, Vahika” said another boy who was also around ten. “Vasushena is a novice whereas Veera is more experienced. That’s why my money is on Veera. ” he smirked at Asmita. “Loyalty is all very well, but you need to use your brains, too.”

“Shut up, Bhadra,” said Asmita scowling.

The soldiers surged forward. They wanted to watch up close, and the boys parted way grudgingly.

“Hey you,” said one of them to Bhadra. “Are you the one collecting money for bets?”

Bhadra nodded cautiously.

“Okay, I want to put some money on the larger one. He’s Atiradha’s son, isn’t he?”

“Yes sir, but it is better to bet on Veera. He’s experienced-”

“You do as I say,” the soldier scowled.

The other soldiers too wanted to bet on Vasushena, and Bhadra made no more attempts to change their minds.

In the meantime the two boys were still circling each other, their gazes shrewd and sharp. Veera moved suddenly, trying to grasp Vasushena around the middle, but Vasushena evaded the grab and his hands met Veera’s. They both exerted pressure on their hands that their muscles bunched. Veera kicked out with his leg and tripped Vasushena, but Vasushena rolled away, and jumped up in one smooth motion. They again circled each other. Veera mopped his brow with his arm, Vasushena shook his head to shake away the beads of sweat that clung to him. Both boys had hair that was long, and both had tied them back, so as to avoid it getting in the way.

Vasushena moved in with a punch to Veera’s gut, and Veera countered with one to Vasushena’s cheek. Vasushena shook his head again, and Veera rubbed his middle and drew deep breaths. Vasushena again made the first move, trying to punch Veera in the face, but Veera sidestepped, and the back of his hand grazed Veera’s shoulder. But Veera’s blow caught Vasushena on the temple and Vasushena jumped back and kicked out. Veera avoided the leg and moved in with another blow, this time to Vasushena’s gut. Vasushena was winded and Veera moved in to grab him by the middle, and throw him to the ground. Vasushena brought his elbow down on Veera as he grabbed him, but Veera did not let go, squeezing him instead so hard Vasushena could not breath.

“Let him go! You’ll break his ribs!” Shouted one of the other boys, and Veera lifted Vasushena and threw him on the ground, on his stomach, placing his knee on his back, and twisting his arms behind.

“Do you surrender?” He shouted. Vasushena squirmed, but could not budge the solid bulk of his opponent.

“Do you surrender?” Veera asked again.

“Yes!” Gasped Vasushena, and Veera rose, pulling the other boy to his feet.

The soldiers made angry noises as they threw some money at Bhadra and left. Veera grinned at Vasushena.

“Good fight,” he said.

“For you,” Vasushena laughed. “My whole body feels like someone has driven a heavy chariot over it!”

They both went to the river, to wash themselves. Vasushena had a bruise on his temple and another one on his cheek.

“That can happen in the beginning,” said Veera. “But honestly, you can be better. You’ve speed and strength. All you need is experience, and knowledge.”

Vasushena grinned, “I’ll come to you daily for lessons,”

They had finished their baths and were dressing by now.

“You’ll need to give me Dakshina,” winked Veera as they started back towards the group.

“All right,” said Vasushena, laughing now. “What is it you want?”

A sly expression came over Veera’s face. “You’ll take me with you when you go deep into the woods.”

“It’s dangerous there,” said Vasushena seriously.

“Why do you go there then?”

Vasushena hesitated. “It’s a secret.”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Vasushena beckoned him closer, and whispered in his ear, “I go there to practice archery.”

“Wow!” Said Veera, impressed. “Can you show me sometime? Is it difficult?”

“I’ve just started, and yes, it is difficult. But as my father says, we can’t let anyone know because the soldiers may not like it if they learn a Suta is learning archery.”

“That’s why you go inside the forest,” guessed Veera. “Speaking of soldiers, where are they? Normally they wouldn’t have left so soon.”

“It is the coronation, today,” said Vasushena grinning. “So, they’re all busy. They’ve to get back to the palace before someone realizes they’ve left.”

“Good thing too. They would have been furious and would have taken away the little money we had gathered too since they lost. As it is, we have their money.”

“Does your father know you are practicing archery?” Veera asked suddenly.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“But you said-”

“It’s the gist of what he says about Sutas and Kshatriyas and what we are supposed to do and all.”

Veera chuckled. They joined the crowd of boys where Asmita, Sangrama and a few others joined to commiserate with Vasushena while Bhadra, Vahika and others were around Veera, congratulating him. Soon, Bhadra was gathering money from the losers, and having placed it all in a pouch, he said,

“Thank you all, for this. We have enough money now to pay a Vaidya to come here and treat Visakha’s father, and Mala jyeshta’s baby. And we should all thank Asmita who came up with the idea. The soldiers all gave generously once we told them we were having a wrestling match.”

The boys all laughed, though one or two looked nervously around. They had to be careful that no soldier was around to hear them.

“What if they’d bet on Veera?” Asked Vasushena.

Bhadra shrugged. “I would have told them they made a good bet, and they would have changed their bets. You see, they think we are trying to cheat them, so if we disagree with their bet, they’ll stick to it, and if we agree, they’ll change it.”

The boys snickered again. Bhadra brought the money to Asmita, handing it over to him. Asmita’s father had undertaken to bring a good Vaidya if the money could be arranged. This done, they went to the garden to call the girls and share the good news. The girls had arranged a puppet show for the soldiers earlier, but that had not brought in much money. The children started walking around the garden, looking for weeds, and watering the plants. Soon, the garden was ringing with their laughter and voices.

Chapter Thirteen

The palace of Hastinapura was glinting in the sun, though the glint did not affect the people gathered in its courtyard. The pavilion that was erected kept the sun from the assembled crowd, and the royal pavilion was shady enough for the newly crowned King and Queen of Hastinapura. Dhritarashtra sat erect on the throne, his sightless eyes staring ahead, his queen Gandhari, her eyes tied with a piece of opaque black silk at his left. Behind him stood Vidura, stony faced, looking straight ahead. Bheeshma sat to one side, sitting straight, though the lines on his face looked more pronounced. Kripa, the newly appointed Rajaguru sat on the right hand side of the King. His red robes, matted hair and long beard made his age difficult to determine, though it was rumoured he was the same age as the former monarch Vichitravirya. Kripa looked serene, though his gaze darted to Vidura ever so often, and sometimes to the crowd. A faint pity registered on his eyes as they went to the blind couple.

The coronation over, the various visiting royalty from in and around Aryavarta came to the royal couple with their gifts, which the attendants accepted and kept aside in the place designated for it. The King of Madra was conspicuous by his absence and the King of Gandhara was represented by his son, Sakuni who embraced Dhritarashtra warmly. Gandhari smiled at her brother, and gripped his hand tight. Vidura bowed to him, and the bow was returned politely. The Kings were all led away by attendants to the quarters assigned to them in the palace where they were to rest and refresh themselves before starting for their respective Kingdoms. Once the Kings had gone to their quarters, it was time for the new King to go down to make gifts to the Brahmanas. Dhritarashtra was helped by Vidura, and Gandhari by a dasi.

Vidura’s face was impassive as he led the King to the area designated for granting of presents. He narrated in a monotonous voice the details of gifts that were kept to be handed over to the Brahmanas as they came forward. Slowly, the pavilion emptied, and the King and the Queen made their way back into the palace. Vidura led the King into the Sabha, gestured to an attendant to take his place behind the King, and took his own seat as Prime Minister. Bheeshma gave him a furtive glance, but Vidura stared straight ahead, and paid no attention to the goings on in the sabha, leaving the King to his devices. He answered questions only when asked and sat in brooding silence the rest of the time. Since he had been almost the same during Pandu’s reign, no one noticed anything amiss except the eagle eyes of Bheeshma which had lost none of their sharpness due to age. He spoke often, making suggestions and recommending course of actions, which the King followed meekly. At one point, Vidura gave a contemptuous glance to the Senapati, which Bheeshma missed, being engrossed in telling the King how to pass judgement over a dispute.

Vidura sat still till the sabha was concluded, then rose as the King was led out, waited till the sabha was empty before going briskly through one of the corridors that led to the stables. He barked an order to the grooms who saddled a horse and brought it to him. He mounted it and rode off, curtly declining the groom’s offer to accompany him. The groom shrugged. The Mahamatya was a Sudra after all. One couldn’t expect him to behave like the Kshatriyas.

Vidura soon crossed the city gates, the guards standing to attention when he passed, and wondering where he was going, though they dared not even discuss it among themselves. The Mahamatya appeared to be in a hurry, and if his mood was anything like the look on his face when there was some delay in opening the gates, they did not want to risk his spies finding out they were gossipping about him. They could not help wonder where he was going to, in such a hurry, but dared not ask.

Having left Hastinapura behind, Vidura slowed down, and made his way to the forests. He carefully guided his horse through the grassy paths, that still bore the indents of the wheels belonging to the many chariots that had passed not too long ago. The grass had grown back at many places, but at others, patches of dead grass could be seen bearing the mark of hunting chariots and horses’ hooves. Once he entered the woods, however, the paths were all overgrown, and no tracks could be seen. But Vidura made his certain way across the forest, to reach a small clearing. There he dismounted, and looked around, and then went into the woods in a northerly direction, leading his horse. Soon, he reached what appeared to be the hunting camp of a King. There was the large hut and smaller huts scattered on the periphery. A couple of dasis were preparing food while some dasas were bringing wood. They all stopped what they were doing as they saw Vidura. Vidura made an imperious gesture to one of the dasas and he came running to take the horse. With a look of grim determination, Vidura went into the large hut.

Pandu was reclining on a comfortable couch within, his head on Madri’s lap. Kunti sat next to one of the windows, looking out, boredom and indifference evident in every line of her body. Vidura’s eyes lingered on her even as he greeted his brother.

“Vidura!” Pandu sat up, flustered and angry. He opened his mouth and then shut it as if he remembered that he no longer was King and that there were no longer any heralds to announce others. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to bring you the good news, of course,” said Vidura, now carefully avoiding looking at Kunti. “Your elder brother had been coronated King of Hastinapura in your stead.”

“He should have been the King in the first place.” Said Pandu heavily.

“Yes,” agreed Vidura. “But uncle deemed him unfit because he was blind.”

“He was only partially blind then,” said Pandu. “And that Vaidya seemed to be doing him some good. He could once recognize the colour of my uttariya. What happened to that Vaidya anyway?”

“Uncle sent him away since he felt that he wasn’t helping, and was only giving your brother false hope.”

“I guess uncle knows best,” shrugged Pandu. “Perhaps I was wrong.”

“Perhaps,” said Vidura.

“Anyway, now that he’s King, he could send for that Vaidya again.”

“It won’t do any good now. The Vaidya had said that the treatment cannot be done once sight is completely lost. There is no hope now of Dhritarashtra ever regaining his sight.”

There was silence in the room for a moment. Then Vidura spoke, “It was uncle, wasn’t it, who compelled you to give up the throne?”

Pandu nodded. “He said that the slayer of a sage cannot be a King.”

“And do you agree with him?” The dasis laid some refreshments on the small table in front of them. But both men ignored it.

“I know he’s wise, and he probably believed he was right,” said Pandu. “But no, I don’t agree. Kindama deserved to die. If a man must behave like a beast, then he must be prepared to be hunted down like one too. He was mating with deers, I see no reason why I should’ve spared his life when I wouldn’t have spared the deers.”

“Can I spend the night here?” Asked Vidura.

Pandu nodded. “You can sleep in one of the smaller huts.” He gave Vidura a curious glance, then said. “Does it rankle, that you were overlooked once again?”

“No,” said Vidura. “I’ve come to terms with reality. One such as I can never aspire to the throne of Hastinapura.”

His eyes went to Kunti as he spoke and he saw the hatred blazing in her eyes. His own remained impassive.

Chapter Twelve

Night was falling when a stranger approached the gates of Hastinapura. He was dark, not very tall, but not short either, and wore the red robes of a sage. He was adorned with bracelets of Rudraksha beads while a long chain of Rudraksha beads hung down to his navel. His Uttariya was wrapped around his torso crosswise and its end was draped over one arm. His hair was matted and some of it was piled on top of his head in a knot. The rest hung down to his back. His beard and moustache were thick and hid the lower part of his face with his thick lips barely visible. His beard was tangled and reached down to his chest. His black eyes were fringed with thick bushy lashes. His age could not be determined, for though his face was unlined, and his hair untouched by grey, his eyes looked old. Though not tall, he carried himself straight and with authority. He was barefooted and carried a Yogadandu in one hand.

The guards at the gates stood straighter as they saw him, and their Nayaka addressed him respectfully, saying,

“Welcome, oh great Krishna Dwaipayana. Senapati Bheeshma has been awaiting your arrival anxiously since afternoon.”

“I was delayed,” said the sage. “I shall go to my brother immediately.”

“But you must be wanting to refresh yourself first,” said the Nayaka.

“I am above the needs of flesh,” said the sage, “There’s no need to accompany me. I know the way.”

“Of course,” said the captain bowing as the sage made his way through the crowded thoroughfare.

“Who is he?” asked one of the young guards. “Why does he call Senapati Bheeshma as his brother?”

“That is the sage Krishna Dwaipayana also known as Veda Vyasa,” said the Nayaka. “He is the son of our former Maharani Satyavati, and hence brother to Senapati Bheeshma.”

The guard digested this in astounded silence. Then, “But he looks very unclean and uncouth, doesn’t he? And that stink! How can he be allowed entry in the royal palace?”

The Nayaka smiled. “And who’ll bar him entry? He’s more than just another sage, more even than the son of the former Maharani.”

“What do you mean?”

But the Nayaka only shook his head. “It’s my head on the block if the spies carry tales to the Mahamatya. I’ve spoken too much, as it is. Look sharp. A group of men are coming.”

The guard nodded as he turned to his duty and the Nayaka too turned to questioning the leader of the visitors.

The subject of their discussion was, in the meantime, wending his way sedately towards the royal palace. He was aware of curious eyes of other passers by on him, and of the wide berth given him by them. It was only partly due to respect. Part of it was the fear of incurring his wrath if he was jostled. If the sage found anything odd in their fear, he did not show it. His visage was calm, and his eyes too were serene. The crowd thinned as he approached the better part of the city. Here, the roads were wider, and chariots could be seen passing by. Most people walked on the stones on the side of the street. The streets here were lined with shady trees and houses were set at a distance from the streets. Side streets led to normally bustling markets, which were all empty now, and gave a forlorn appearance at this hour.

Groups of guards were patrolling the streets. Though some stared at him as he turned to the wide street that led to the palace, none stopped him. The palace gates were closed, though at his approach, the gates opened and the Nayaka came forward to greet him.

“Welcome, O great one. I have been ordered to show you into the palace.”

The sage inclined his head, an amused smile curving his lips, though all he said was, “Lead the way,”

The path to the palace was as wide as a street. There was width enough for two chariots to go side by side. The path was lined with shady trees and flowering creepers had climbed on the trees to create a thick canopy. Flames covered with glass with a small hole on top were kept at regular intervals on pillars that were chest high. Beyond the trees lay wide expanses of lawns and gardens, though all were in darkness now. The sound of water flowing over stones could be heard and the sage sighed deeply. As they approached the palace, the lighted pillars became more frequent and the sage was led up the steps, where waited Bheeshma himself.

“Bhrata,” said Bheeshma coming forward and bending to touch his feet.

“Ayushman Bhavah,” the sage blessed him. May you have a long life. Something like a grimace passed over Bheeshma’s face at the blessing.

“I shall show you to the chambers allotted to you,” said Bheeshma, ignoring the maids who were strewing flower petals at their feet. “You shall refresh yourself and rest. We shall talk in the morning.”

“And yet, you were anxious for my arrival,” said the sage.

Bheeshma sighed deeply. The sage could notice that the lines on his face looked more pronounced while there was a definite slump to his shoulders. “I think…. some matters are better discussed during the day.”

Krishna Dwaipayana nodded. “I understand.”

“You must be grieving too,” said Bheeshma.

The sage shook his head. “I hardly know him. Besides, I’m a sage, and above all attachments.”

“And are you?” asked Bheeshma softly.

A faint smile graced the dark face of the sage. “We’re all human,” he replied, though he remained quiet the rest of the way.

He was led into a large chamber which was bare of all furnishings, except for a wooden cot on which was spread a straw mattress. A small table holding an earthen jug and goblets stood near the cot. The walls were all bare and a deer skin was spread near one of the walls.

“I hope that isn’t the deer,” said the sage.

Bheeshma gave a chuckle. “No, it isn’t.” he paused and looked at the sage, sobering. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“I know,” said the sage. “You had no choice. I understand.”

Bheeshma nodded and he left the room after ensuring that the sage was comfortable. Once he had left, the sage stood in the middle of the room, looking around. He smiled again, a smile tinged with amusement as he crossed to the deerskin and sat down on it in the lotus pose, and closed his eyes, the faint smile still lingering on his face.

Chapter Eleven

Atiratha made his way home, feeling more tired than usual. He was longing to see his family again. The streets of Hastinapura were deserted. The city was in mourning. Atiratha had feared that he would never be able to see his family again. But fortunately, such a situation did not come to pass. The Sutas and soldiers were all sent back. The muffled sobs of the dasis who had to stay behind had made Atiratha thank his stars that his Radha was a Suta and hence not suitable to be a dasi.

He wondered how Vasu was doing. His health had improved a lot this last year, Radha had told him. Vasu had not fallen ill even a single time. It was difficult to keep him indoors these days, Radha had told him, hovering between laughter and exasperation. She still worried about him, he could see. And when Vasu came in at the evening, Atiratha was astounded. In place of the frail, sickly child he’d left behind, he was faced with a sturdy lad, who looked like he’d never had a day’s illness.

Atiratha rued the days he’d spent away from his family, accompanying the Maharaja on his Dig Vijaya. There was not even any certainty that he would return alive. Sutas were often targeted by enemy warriors though the rules of Dharma Yuddha clearly prohibited it. The death of a Suta would cause the chariot to run amok since there was no one to control the horses, unless the Kshatriya warrior took the reins themselves. Apart from those of royal birth, most warriors were fairly inept at handling the reins.

Atiratha had been lucky. He was injured in the war, but he had survived. And when he’d come back after the long campaign, he’d been hoping for some rest and some time with his family. But it was not to be. The King had wanted to go on a hunting trip and all the Sutas who could still hold the reins had been forced to go as well. But now, he was back, and though he had no idea what the future was going to bring, he could hope it would be better.

His left shoulder still twinged painfully. It was with great difficulty that he could hold the reins or wield the whip. In the evenings, it had felt as if his arm was on fire. Even now it felt like it could fall off any moment. The physicians who attended to the ordinary soldiers and the Sutas were not very skilled. Nor were they much interested in seeing them fully recovered, since they were all expendable.

He had survived anyway due to God’s grace. And now he was back home too. He did not know if the new King would accept him into his service or would pension him off, but either way he did not mind. He was not concerned about who might be the next King. That was for the Kshatriyas and the Brahmanas to decide.

Radha was in the kitchen when he reached home. She came running when he called out to her. He brought water for him to wash his feet and then spread the mat for him to sit. She brought food and water and sat near him while he ate. Once the food was eaten and the plates cleared, he asked. “Where’s Vasu?”

“He’s gone to play with the other boys.”

“It is not good for the boys to be out today. What if the soldiers saw them? The city is in mourning.”

“The soldiers were boys once too,” said Radha comfortingly. “They know what children are like. I didn’t have the heart to make him stay indoors when the sun is shining so bright. Let him play. I had prayed for a day when he could…” her voice choked with tears.

Atiratha placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, what is this? You should be happy he’s such a strong healthy boy now.” He wiped away her tears. “There’s nothing to cry for now.”

“Is it true what they say?” asked Radha in a hushed voice. “About the Maharaja?”

Atiratha rose and went to the door, looking outside to make sure no one was listening before closing the door and coming back. He sat down on the mat and said heavily, “Yes.”

Radha clapped a hand to her mouth, horrified. “And they say… they say Mala and Jayanti are not coming back.” her voice was a whisper.

“I don’t know,” said Atiratha. “Some… some had to stay back… It is the lot of the dasi.”

“But their children!” whispered Radha. “What will come of them? Who will take care of them? Mala’s baby is but six months old!”

“Their grandmothers will take care of them,” said Atiratha wincing as he tried to support himself using his left hand. “It is how things are. What are we to do?”

“I know,” said Radha as she brought a pillow and eased him to lay his back on it. She started massaging his left arm, but it only increased the pain and he pulled it free.

“Perhaps you should go to the Vaidya here,” said Radha. “I’m sure he might be able to lessen the pain.”

Atiratha nodded. “I shall go to him tomorrow. I’m exhausted today. “

There was a banging on the door and Radha went to open it. Two soldiers barged in, holding a young boy of six by his arms. They checked on seeing Atiratha.

“Is this your son, Atiratha?” asked one.

“Yes, Srutasena,” replied Atiratha, rising, feeling alarmed. “What has he done?”

“He was out playing and when we told him to go home because we are mourning for the Maharaja, he said he did not care. He wanted to play, and if we want to mourn the Maharaja, we can go and mourn him!”

“Vasu?” Radha’s voice was shocked. The boy hung his head. Vasu had changed a lot in appearance. He was no longer pale though he was still thin, though it might have been in part because he was tall for his age. His skin seemed to be golden in colour in the sunshine that was streaming inside. His dark hair was thick and no longer straggly. There was a sullen expression in the black eyes.

“Keep him inside, and I would give him a good hiding if he were mine.” said Srutasena as he released Vasu with a shove. Radha caught him from stumbling. The soldiers marched out, slamming the door behind them.

“What possessed you to be rude to the King’s soldiers?” demanded Atiratha. “Don’t you know who they are?”

“I don’t care. They were the ones who were rude first!” said Vasu defiantly. “They could have just told us, instead they were pushing us and calling us brats and other names.”

“Be that as it may,” said Atiratha. “They are Kshatriyas, and they can do whatever they want. It is for us to avoid trouble.”

Radha had her arm around the child. “You won’t do anything like that again, will you?”

He sighed. “I won’t,” he muttered sullenly.

Atiratha heaved a sigh of relief.

Chapter Ten

The night was sultry. Not an occasional breeze stirred the curtains in the royal apartments, or caused the flames of the burning torches or the lamps to flicker. The King of Hastinapura stood on the balcony, and surveyed his Kingdom, a twisted smile on his lips.

Pandu was a tall man, and though he looked slender and unhealthily pale, his visage was handsome and his limbs well proportioned. His torso was muscled and scarred as befitting a Kshatriya warrior, and his arms and shoulders bore the scars from the bowstring. Some of the scars on his body were from his recent Dig Vijaya campaign from which he had returned successfully only a few days back.

The campaign had been gruelling, but it had helped him keep his mind off other things. And it had helped that he could vent his frustrations on the battlefield. The Sutas sang that he was so fierce on the battle that enemies surrendered at his very sight. While that was certainly an exaggeration, it was true that he was more aggressive, even savage on the battlefield.

The triumphant return of the King of Hastinapura to his capital bearing uncounted riches from the defeated nations were sung at every corner of Aryavarta. His generosity at laying that wealth at his elder brother’s feet, and the reciprocation by that brother by directing the King to distribute it amongst the people were being lauded by every man in Hastinapura. But standing here in the balcony of his palace, gazing at his Kingdom, Pandu felt his heart shrink in his breast as bitterness filled it. What use all his might, all his wealth, all his generosity, when he knew what he was! He was not a man, he was less than even a beast, and whatever he did, whatever he achieved, was not enough to make him a man.

He gripped the balustrade tight, as his eyes went to the distant mountains. He wanted an escape, an escape from the confines of the palace, an escape from the expectations of his uncle, of his ministers, of his people, and above all an escape from the knowing eyes of that bastard half-brother of his. He did not know what his uncle was thinking, making him the Pradhanamantrin! And now he behaved as though he owned the place, and looked at him as though he knew his secret. Vidura had always held him in some contempt, he knew, though it was not as obvious as his contempt for Dhritarashtra. But it galled Pandu. How dared this son of a maid presume to hold the Kuru Princes in contempt!

To get away from the palace would be a relief. He would go on a hunting trip. He had always loved hunting. Yes, that would give him the relaxation he craved after the wearying Dig Vijaya campaign.

Having decided, Pandu immediately sent for his uncle as well as for the Sthapathi.

Bheeshma was the first to arrive. He looked disgruntled. “What is it Pandu? What was so urgent that it could not wait till the morning?”

“I am going on a hunting trip,” replied Pandu. “I need to relax and enjoy the beauties of nature after the taxing campaign of conquest I just completed.”

Bheeshma nodded. “Hunting is a suitable pastime for Kshatriyas, but is this the right time?”

“Yes!” Snapped Pandu. “This is when I need the relaxation. What better time could there be?”

“You just got back. Your Kingdom needs you.”

“You didn’t think that when it was your will that I go on the Dig Vijaya,” said Pandu coldly. “I am the King, and this is my will. If the Kingdom didn’t fall apart when I went on Dig Vijaya, it won’t fall apart when I go on a hunting trip.”

Bheeshma compressed his lips and said. “As you wish, but there will be unnecessary talk if you leave your wives behind.”

“A forest is no place for women,” said Pandu dismissively.

“All the same, Kings used to be accompanied by their wives during hunting trips in the past. It is not an unusual thing.” Bheeshma hesitated and then said. “You have been apart from your wives for over a year. And now, if you again go away, leaving them behind, it could lead to people speculating about their character.”

Pandu glared at his uncle, but Bheeshma met his eyes calmly. Pandu turned around and walked to where a small round table stood holding a jug containing wine and a couple of goblets. He poured some wine into a goblet and drained it. Then he turned to Bheeshma, the goblet still clutched in his hand.

“Fine. I’ll take them.”

Bheeshma bowed. “I shall tell Vidura to make the arrangements.”

“No need,” said Pandu sharply. “I have sent for the Sthapathi. I shall direct him.”

“It is not meet that you do that,” protested Bheeshma.

“And I prefer that my bastard half-brother not be involved in my affairs unless it is absolutely necessary!”

Bheeshma winced, but bowed again. “When are you proposing to leave?”

“Tomorrow morning at sunrise.”

“Tomorrow?” Bheeshma was horrified. “Pandu! There just isn’t enough time to make all the arrangements! That is too soon!”

“Nonsense! There’s more than enough time. Besides, it is for Sravana to do, why are you bothered?”

Bheeshma looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he bit his lips, and spoke, “I shall take my leave of you then.”

Pandu nodded carelessly. He was tired of his uncle’s always trying to talk to him as if he were a child. Besides, what was the big deal in arranging for a hunting trip?

The Sthapathi came in as soon as Bheeshma left.

“I am taking my wives and going on a hunting trip.” Said Pandu. “Make all necessary arrangements for our departure at sunrise tomorrow. Also arrange to have a message sent to the Anthahpurah to inform the Ranis.”

“Sunrise tomorrow, Rajan?” Sravana quailed at Pandu’s glare.

“That’s what I said, is it not?”

“Of course, of course. It shall be done as you command.”

Sravana bowed himself out. Pandu turned to the attendants to indicate he was ready for bed. He had to get a good night’s sleep if he was to leave at sunrise.