Geetha Krishnan's Blog, page 29

What if….

Prologue

The man stirred. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea who he was. He frowned. He was lying on a grassy bank of a river. His clothes and body were wet. Had the river swept him here? It seemed likely. And yet, why was he alive? Why didn’t he drown?

He stood up. He was tall, fair and handsome. He had wide eyes set under winged brows, an aquiline nose and moulded lips. His hair was bedraggled though it might have been straight, curling naturally at his nape.

He looked around him with bewilderment. He was in a forest. His body seemed to ache all over, yet, there were no marks on his body that he could see on a perfunctory examination.

He looked at his hands. They looked dirty and muddy, but no lacerations and scars were visible. If he had been swept by the current, shouldn’t there be some marks?

But all that bothered him less than the fact that he could not recollect who he was. There was a gaping chasm where his memories should have been. He had nothing. He was nothing. Whatever he was, whoever he was, was lost.

Someone stepped out of the woods. As he saw the stranger, something clicked to place. Memory came flooding back. He reeled and sank to his knees as the stranger leapt forward to catch him.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured.

Vasusena did not think so. “What have you done, father?” He groaned.

“What I should have done long back,” was the grim reply.

Vasusena sat in his father’s palace. The situation appeared horrible to him.

“Why did you do this?” He demanded, still furious. “You made me abandon my friend, my men! I am their commander. I have responsibilities!”

“Not anymore!” Surya’s voice was dry.

“You have caused our defeat!”

“Your defeat was already written!” Snapped his father. “I did what any father would have!”

“You are not any father! You are a Deva!”

“I am still a father! And I love you! I am not prepared to lose you to this senseless war!”

“I am also a father! And I have responsibilities back on earth!”

“Sit down,” said Surya. “Your sons and brothers will be safe now.”

He glowered. “Do you think that is my only concern?”

“No. But that is my only concern.”

Vasusena glowered again.

“Stop being childish,” said Surya. “I saved your life.”

“By kidnapping me?” Vasusena shouted.

“I am your father,” Surya’s voice was like a whiplash. “While I am prepared to make allowances for your state of mind, I am not going to tolerate your shouting at me.”

Vasusena sighed. “I am sorry father, but you have placed me in an intolerable situation. Kidnapping me on the eve of battle is hardly calculated to make me happy!”

“Oh, were you on the eve of battle? I was under the impression that you were not fighting!”

“Well, technically, I am not, till Bheeshma falls, but-”

“You do know that Bheeshma has the gift to choose the hour of his death, don’t you? He could fight for ever.”

“In which case, you wouldn’t need to be concerned for my life.”

“Better be safe than sorry,”

Vasusena shook his head.

“Not everything is simple, father. You did wrong. You can’t keep me here forever.”

“I’m not planning to.” Replied Surya. “But after what Indra did to ensure his son’s victory over you, in which endeavour you quite nobly aided him, I simply could not sit back and let you go to your death like a sacrificial lamb!”

Vasusena ran his hand across his face. “Father, everyone must die someday. Why do you take away from me the chance of fame? That is all that makes us immortal!”

“Forgive a father’s concern if he cannot quite see it that way!”

“What now?”

“Now we wait.”

Vasusena sighed. It was likely to be a long wait.

The Banished Secret

Chapter Ten

The room was in shambles. Broken pieces of furniture lay everywhere. Cushions and mattresses were slashed to pieces. Curtains were ripped from their frames and torn apart.

Vasusena stared at the room in dismay. True, he did not live here or use these rooms any more, yet such wanton destruction was inconceivable to him. Bheema who was with him, growled in anger.

“Who has done this!”

“I have no idea,” muttered Vasusena. “The house has been uninhabited since, well, you know.”

Bheema knew all too well. This was Atiradha’s house. And since the day Vasusena’s truth came out, no one had been living here. Bheema had been curious to see the place and Vasusena had offered to take him. Which was how they happened to be here.

“All the other rooms are intact,” said Vasusena now.

“Yes, and I’m worried. After that attack on you by masked assailants the other day, now this. Someone seems desperate to get rid of you!”

Vasusena shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” muttered Bheema. “But we can still worry,”

The two men stepped into the room. Broken pieces of furniture were strewn all over the floor, interspersed with the cotton from the mattresses and cushions. Near to the window, a glint caught their eye.

“It’s…” Bheema paled. “Now I am officially worried.”

Arrowheads were arranged near the window to form words: “The usurper must die!”

“A prank,” said Vasusena, though his teeth were gritted in anger.

Bheema looked at his brother, but with a tact rare to him, he kept silent.

Vasusena swept away the arrowheads with his hand. He was really furious now.

The Banished Secret

Prologue

“My son,” the words slipped out before she could stop herself.

“What?” Gandhari pounced on her.

“Arjuna!” Muttered Kunti, trying to cover up her mistake, but her eyes were fixed on the intruder.

Gandhari’s maids were whispering in the Queen’s ears, Kunti saw in dismay.

“Then why are you looking at that stranger?”

Kunti hemmed and hawed but managed to evade. Gandhari looked suspicious though she did not press Kunti. But what was happening before her was enough to make Kunti bite her lip and clench her fist. The stranger and Arjuna were standing, facing each other. Kunti was hoping someone would stop the duel. She saw Kripa take a step forward as if to stop the fight, but Suyodhana who was standing next to him laid a restraining hand on his arm.

Kunti felt her vision go black. It was a momentary weakness and it passed, but it was not unnoticed.

“Why are you so affected?” Demanded Gandhari, “Do you feel that the intruder is better than Arjuna? Your other sons are quite unconcerned, my maids tell me. Why are you alone so bothered?”

Kunti swallowed and shook her head before remembering that the other woman could not see her.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered.

“I’ll tell the King to stop the fight,” there was a sneer in Gandhari’s voice. Kunti stiffened. Arjuna would never forgive her if he learnt that this fight was stopped due to her fears. But how could she simply sit here and watch this? To reveal the truth was even more unthinkable.

“No, don’t!” She said. “I’m certain my son would prevail.”

Which was true in either case, thought she bitterly.

A figure materialized before her.

“Stop this fight,” he said sternly.

“Who is that?” Asked Gandhari. “Who’s there?”

The deva’s eyes bored into Kunti’s. His next words were for her ears alone. “If you do not reveal the truth, I am going to announce it from the sky!”

Kunti blanched. The deva had gone, but she had no doubt he would do as he said.

“What is happening?” Muttered Gandhari.

“I have something to tell you,” said Kunti and finally admitted the truth. The stranger was her son, hers and Suryadeva’s, born before her marriage. She also confessed she knew he had been adopted by a charioteer in Hastinapura.

Gandhari rose and went to her husband. She whispered in his ear. He paled and then said to Vidura. “What is going on now?”

“The stranger and Arjuna are facing each other for battle! The stranger looks to be as skilled as Arjuna!”

“Small wonder!” Chuckled Dhritarashtra, raising an arm to stop the proceedings.

The crowd fell silent and the two men lowered their bows.

“Bring him to me,” ordered Dhritarashtra.

Kripa and Drona escorted him to the King.

Dhritarashtra felt the young man’s face. He was good looking. And from Vidura’s descriptions, he carried himself well too.

The King hugged the stranger amidst exclamations from the crowd.

“Citizens,” he said aloud and lowered his voice to ask the young man his name.

“Vasusena,” he said, bewildered.

“Citizens,” The King announced. “I give you the eldest son of my brother, Pandu, his Kanina son, Vasusena!”

The uproar was deafening. Kunti clutched the sides of her seat and kept her smile fixed. If looks could kill, both Gandhari and Dhritarashtra would have been dead by then.

Vasusena stood still. He opened his mouth to tell the King that obviously there was some mistake when he caught sight of Kunti’s face. If it was a mistake, his mind told him, it was for her to correct them.

The next moment, the five Pandavas were there, bending down to touch his feet and looking at him with tearful and adoring eyes.

He felt helpless as he was gathered into the arms of Bheeshma and Vidura who both kept smelling his head like dogs who had got a particularly appetizing piece of bone.

He automatically raised his brothers and they threw themselves into his arms with gusto, nearly knocking him down in their enthusiasm.

“Oye! Be careful,” said he, clutching them and bracing himself.

“Sorry, we got carried away,” Bheema looked really cute when he was sheepish.

Vidura whispered something in Yudhistira’s ears and Yudhistira nodded.

He went down into the arena and escorted someone respectfully up. Vasusena immediately went forward to touch his feet.

“Father!” Said he.

Atiradha raised him and smelt his head.

“My son,” he whispered. There was regret and grief in his tone and Vasusena knew then that he was not this man’s son by birth.

“Be with your family,” Atiradha said and would have walked away if Vidura had not stopped him. “You and your family shall stay with Prince Vasusena and his brothers.” Said the Prime Minister.

Vasusena smiled gratefully at the man and was surprised by the warmth of his answering smile.

The Mansion

Prologue

The moon was full. It was the perfect night. He knew this was the night. But just in case something went wrong…. He looked at the package in his hand.

“Ram!” His tone was peremptory. The boy came to him. He handed over the package in his hand to the boy.

“Take this to the madam in the town. Tell her its from me.”

The boy nodded.

“And Ram,” he paused. “Don’t come back tonight. Go home.”

The boy nodded.

He would need to send the other servants home too. He did not want anyone to be there when he started his experiment.

Very soon, he was alone. He went into the courtyard. The full moon hung above, not even a cloud obscuring it. The sky was completely cloudless, he saw. It seemed like a good sign.

He turned off the fountains. The courtyard was silent now. He went inside the house and started turning off the lights, one by one. Some of the rooms had electric lights and they were easy to turn off.

He entered his study. The room was lit by candles. He would turn them off just before starting.

He thought of the package he had sent. He hoped it would have reached Tessa. She would know what to do if something went wrong.

He glanced outside at the window. The moon’s light had to fall fully into the room. It would not be long now. He started blowing off the candles one by one. The room was in complete darkness, the moon light that came in through the open window was still not strong enough.

He sat down at his desk in the darkness, drumming his fingers on the wood. He was feeling excited, but also nervous.

He took a drink to steady his nerves.

A Lost Melody

Prologue

Mike stepped out of the airport, wondering what awaited him here. It had been almost fifteen years since he had left the country. And he had not bothered to find out what might have been happening here. He had not stayed in touch with anyone. After Annie’s death, when he fled the country, he had been in a hurry.

He knew the years had changed him, but not beyond recognition. He still did not know why he came here, but when the doctor had diagnosed his condition as fatal and told him he had only a few months left to live, he thought it was time to end his self-imposed exile.

He had informed no one he was coming. Not that there was anyone he could inform. He had no friends left here. There was none he could trust. All wanted his blood.

He hailed a cab and directed it to the hotel where he had booked a room under his new name. He had assumed a new identity in the country he had taken refuge in. He hoped none would associate Michael Leighton with Ray Steven.

He did not fear them. After all they could only kill him. And he was already a marked man. No, what he feared was that he might be forced to remember all that he had forgotten. He might be forced to remember how he had killed Annie.

The cab came to a halt. He looked out in confusion. They were not in front of the hotel. He wondered why the driver had stopped and was about to ask when the man turned. There was a gun in his hand.

“Neil!” His brain refused to function.

“Welcome home Mike!” Neil’s eyes were hard.

The gun spoke.

My new book

A/N: This is the first chapter of the new novel I’m writing right now.

Prologue

“I killed my wife,” the voice at the other end of the phone might have been discussing the weather, so matter-of-fact and emotionless was it. On second thoughts, Farhan felt that a discussion of the weather might have been more animated.

“Come again?” Said he, wondering if he heard right. It was not every day that someone called up the city police commissioner and confessed to a murder.

“You heard me the first time,” replied the voice. “However I shall tell you once more. I killed my wife. I am not going to tell you why, that is your job to find out.”

A chill went down Farhan’s spine.

“My job?” Farhan sent a message from his cell phone to trace the call to his landline.

“You see,” said the man, still talking calmly and impersonally. “I am talking from beside her body. She’s been dead for an hour now. If you find her and find out why I killed her, I shall surrender to you.”

“Find her?” Farhan’s eyes were on the watch. The trace had been activated. But the man needed to keep talking for at least sixty seconds more.

“Find her body and my motive and you shall find me! I am in your city itself!” The line disconnected.

“Damn!” Farhan swore. The trace could not be completed. He wondered if it was a crank call. But he had a gut feeling the call was genuine.

He picked up his cell, and dialled the control room number. What if they got lucky?

“We could not complete the trace,” Vivek sounded apologetic. “What was it, sir?”

“Some maniac who claimed he’s killed his wife. Said he’d surrender if we could find her body and his motive!”

Vivek whistled softly. “You mean we have a killer, but no body!”

“We don’t have anything,” said Farhan. “Other than a voice over the phone.”

“Crank call, sir?”

“On the surface, I would say yes, but somehow my gut says its a genuine thing.”

“So what next, sir?”

“We find this man, we find the body.” Farhan’s voice was hard. “And then we nail that bastard!”

The Life that Never Was: Part Twenty four and Twenty Five

Bheema opened the door to find Kunti outside. Nakula bolted out of bed as she came in to the room.

“What were you two up to?” She demanded, as if they were still children.

“Nothing, mother,” said Bheema, pulling her into a hug. “Just trying to sleep. We need to make an early start.”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Go to sleep,”

She hugged them both before exiting the room.

Bheema picked up the pillow he’d dropped on the floor and gave it to Nakula.

“I’m going to blow off the lamp,” said he.

Nakula nodded. He was already in his bed with the covers drawn up to his chin.

Bheema chuckled as he blew off the lamp. The room was still lit by the faint moon light from outside. Bheema made his way to his own bed. It was more comfortable than he’d expected.

He lay down on the bed but was unable to sleep. Bheema had no wish to disturb his brother and so he lay still. Soon, Nakula’s steady breathing indicated that he was asleep.

Bheema slipped out of the bed. He could not sleep. And he did not want to be tossing and turning all night.

He went to the window and looked outside. The sky had cleared after the storm. The moon floated on the sky and the stars winked at him from above. He could hear the sound of dripping water from the trees on to the ground.

A breeze caressed his face. He lifted his face to it and closed his eyes. He could imagine the invisible fingers of the omnipresent father he had never seen, caressing his face.

25.

Vasusena was having a nightmare. He was in a box being buffeted by waves which threatened to drown him. His screaming was of no use. He was fettered and unable to move. And the air inside the box was being sucked out.

He thrashed about in a vain attempt to free himself. He screamed again, but no sound came. He knew his struggles were of no use now. The end was coming. He made a final attempt to free himself.

“Vasusena!” He woke, disoriented to see a shadow loom over him. His hand caught the man by the throat before reason and awareness returned. He released Krishna.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “What were you doing?”

“I could ask the same thing,” murmured Krishna as he coughed and touched his throat gingerly. “You seemed to have been having a nightmare. I was trying to wake you. If I had known you were dreaming of strangling me, I would have stayed away.”

Vasusena turned to his side, facing the wall. The moonlight from the window caused shadows to form on the wall. Inexplicably, he felt a lump rise to his throat.

“I’m sorry,” said he again. “And thank you. Go back to sleep.”

He felt the bed dip as Krishna sat next to him.

“Cousin,” said he. “How long will you hold on to this burden?”

Vasusena was silent.

Krishna sighed. He put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “They are as innocent as you are. Why do you want to keep punishing them?”

“If I reveal the truth, I will be punishing them.” His voice was muffled.

“You wrong them if you believe that, though I appreciate the concern.”

Vasusena closed his eyes. He did not want to argue.

Krishna’s arms held him. “Just give in,” he whispered. “Please let me tell them the truth.”

Vasusena nodded. He was tired.

Krishna turned him to face him. Vasusena opened his eyes. Krishna’s eyes held gravity, “Are you certain?”

“No,” Vasusena muttered. “I’m not certain. But there seem to be no other way to get you off my back!”

The last was an attempt at humour though there was a tremor to his voice.

Krishna chuckled and leaned forward till their foreheads touched. Vasusena closed his eyes again.

Krishna sighed deeply.

“You have lifted a burden from me too, cousin.”

Vasusena opened his eyes. Krishna’s face was in shadows.

“What burden?”

When Krishna spoke, Vasusena heard the raw pain in the other man’s voice. “I destroyed your life when I told you the truth. Do you think it was easy for me to live with that?”

Vasusena put his arms around the other man. “Strangely,” said he. “I never blamed you for it.”

“I know.” Krishna’s arms were round him.

They stayed like that.

Vasusena thought of the village where his wife was waiting. He wanted to go back there. He would stay there for a while. And then he and Padmavathy could go back to Anga. Perhaps, some day, he could crown Vrishasena as King and retire to the woods with Padmavathy.

“Long term plans?” Krishna murmured, amusement in his voice.

“For the first time in my life,” Vasusena said, “I am in a position to make long term plans.”

“And your new found family doesn’t figure anywhere in them?”

He was silent. He did not have the courage to include them anywhere in his life, he realized.

“Don’t be in too much of a hurry to make plans,” Krishna was smiling, his eyes held a mischievous twinkle. “You might need to make a lot of changes. Not to speak of a whole lot of adjustments.”

Vasusena smiled. He was not certain if Krishna was right. But if he was, well, it did not sound too bad.

He grinned. “I am ready.”

And he realized he was, indeed, ready.

The Life that Never Was: Part Twenty Two and Twenty Three

Bheema heard the laughter from the next room. He could not distinguish whose laughter it was. He looked at Nakula who was also frowning.

“Let’s go have a look,” Bheema mouthed.

Nakula nodded, the gleam of adventure in his eyes.

Nakula opened the door a fraction and saw Krishna going downstairs. He turned to Bheema. “Krishna just went downstairs.”

Bheema frowned but gestured at Nakula to go ahead.

The door to Vasusena’s room was ajar and they could hear his voice. “You should not have come,”

They stood rooted to the spot as they recognized their mother’s voice. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

They heard Vasusena chuckle. “Were you expecting your nephew to harm me in the night?” There seemed to be genuine amusement in his voice.

“Not that,” Kunti spoke. “I wanted to see if you were comfortable.”

“I am quite comfortable,” he replied.

Bheema and Nakula heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. They beat a hasty but stealthy retreat into their own room.

“What was that?” Muttered Bheema.

“I think mother wanted to make up for our hostility,” said Nakula.

“I don’t see any reason for that.” Bheema grumbled.

“Nor I,” agreed Nakula. “He is an enemy, whether we are at war or not.”

Nakula sank into the bed, drawing the covers up to his chin. Bheema smiled fondly at his brother. He had had this habit from early childhood. They had all laughed at him at those times but he had not changed.

“You still look adorable when you do that,” said Bheema. Nakula made a face and threw a pillow at Bheema, which Bheema caught deftly.

“And your aim is still to improve,”

They both laughed. It was a standing joke between them.

A knock sounded on the door.

22.

Krishna went downstairs with a slight smile on his face. He saw Draupadi sitting on one of the chairs. She looked up as he entered.

“You can’t sleep either?” She murmured.

He sat down opposite her. “Why can’t you sleep?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Do you regret that there won’t be a war?”

She was silent for a long moment and then she said. “All those years when we were in exile in the forest, I comforted myself with your words. When my husbands refused to act citing various reasons, I consoled myself with the memory of your promise to me. I worked as a menial in Virata’s household, and was insulted by Keechaka. The kick to my backside did not hurt as much as my husband’s indifference.” Her voice was emotionless, flat as she continued. “And after all that, when you went for peace, they wanted to have peace. My husbands wanted only peace. Five villages would have kept them content. But you again comforted me. You promised me justice.”

“Yes, I did,” said Krishna. “And do you feel that justice has not been served now? Your insult is unavenged, but hasn’t the injustice meted out to all of you been corrected?”

“I have no arguments.” Said she. “I do not want revenge. And as long as my husbands are content, I can live with an unavenged insult.” She paused and her voice broke at the next words. “Can you at least tell me why?”

“Because I had to correct another injustice,” he said. “Which was done to someone who never demanded justice. But I was honour bound to grant him justice too.”

“You can’t be just to all,” she pointed out. “One’s justice might be another’s injustice.”

“True. But that is a human perception. Leave your justice in my hands, and I promise your tormentors shall suffer through life as they would never have suffered had they died.”

She looked at him, a dawning wonder in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Imagine their deaths in battle. It might be agonizing, but it would pass. And they would have attained heaven. The ones to suffer would be the ones left behind. And they never wronged you.” He paused. “Now imagine their lives. They have been forced to give your husbands their kingdom. And as long as King Dhritarashtra lives, they won’t be able to do anything to them. Just imagine their rage and frustration which they have no choice but to bear. And once he dies, there’s no power on earth that can save them if they move against your husbands.”

“No power except the one who’s sharing your room tonight.” Her voice was dry. “And I hardly think suffering rage or frustration for a few years qualifies as any kind of justice.”

“I told you I had to correct another injustice.” He said. “Once that is done, all equations are going to change. And those who tormented you are going to drown in their own despair and helplessness.”

“I don’t understand,” she complained.

“You will. The day is not far off. And then you will understand what true justice is.”

She bit her lip. She still trusted him. She nodded. “I trust you,”

“You should,” said he.

She rose. “I am going upstairs, mother might be worried.”

“She’s checking on her sons, so she might not have noticed. But we should both go to our rooms now.”

Part Twenty and Twenty One

Dinner was equally uncomfortable as lunch. Everyone seemed constrained and the only sound was the sound of cutlery being moved. Vasusena had wine for the first time since his oath, though he took it sparingly.

Vasusena was quite glad when it was over. The storm had not yet abated and he hoped it would blow out in the night.

But now he was worried about the sleeping arrangements. There were not enough rooms to accommodate nine persons in the guest house. He wondered if he could sleep in the couch in the hall. That would be better than sharing a room with his brothers or Krishna who had studiously avoided him since lunch.

There was a heated discussion going on in low voices among the Pandavas. They must be wondering which of them has to share a room with the Suta, he thought drily.

He sat down on the couch. He would sleep here. There was no need for so much of heated discussions.

Krishna glanced at him sharply. He tried to convey with his eyes that he was content there. Krishna gave a resigned sigh and said something to the others.

Yudhistira looked shamefaced and even Arjuna looked ashamed. Bheema and the twins looked relieved. Then Kunti said something and her sons stared at her in surprise.

Krishna started laughing.

He came to Vasusena. “You won’t have to sleep on the couch, Vasusena. My aunt has said she will give up her bed and sleep down here if you are not provided with a bed.”

Vasusena was stunned too. He had not expected Kunti to put her foot down so firmly.

“And whose misfortune is it to share a room with the Suta?” He asked, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Krishna grinned. “You get a room to yourself. I won’t put it past any of my cousins not to murder you in the night if they are forced to share a room with you.”

“Don’t worry,” said Vasusena smiling. “I’m a light sleeper.”

“But,” began Arjuna as a frown appeared on his face. “How can the King of Anga have a room to himself? He will have to share with you!”

“The couch looks good enough,” said Krishna blandly.

Vasusena lifted an eyebrow at Krishna. “Afraid to share a room with me, cousin?” His voice was low.

A mischievous twinkle came to Krishna’s eyes. “Don’t try me,” he whispered.

“I dare you,” Vasusena whispered back.

“The King of Anga has been kind enough to offer to share his room.” Krishna spoke aloud, his eyes still locked with Vasusena’s. The mischief was quite pronounced now and Vasusena suffered a moment’s apprehension.

But he had no chance to recant now. He wondered if he was drunk, though that seemed impossible.

21.

Vasusena lifted his eyebrows at Krishna as the latter sat on the edge of the bed.

“Well cousin?” Said he.

Krishna shook his head. “I really would have preferred to have an uninterrupted sleep this night.”

Vasusena chuckled. “You sound as if I am going to prevent you.”

“Not you,” said Krishna drily. “But I am expecting my aunt to come check on you any time.”

Vasusena laughed, “I think you overestimate her concern,”

“I think you underestimate it.”

“Why should she be worried anyway? It’s not as if you are going to slit my throat in the night.”

“You seem certain about that.”

Vasusena lifted an amused eyebrow. “I do happen to trust you tonight.”

Krishna nodded. “You may trust me tonight. But you would be wise not to trust me if we are on opposite camps.”

“I am not that foolish or idealistic Vaasudeva.”

There was a knock on the door.

Vasusena looked at Krishna. “Looks like your prediction about your aunt is correct.”

“That is my sister, I think,” said Krishna as he went to the door.

It was Subhadra.

Krishna went out of the room, closing the door behind him, allowing Vasusena to indulge in a bout of laughter.

He was still chortling when Krishna came back.

“What’s so funny?” Asked Krishna, trying to frown disapprovingly but failing. He closed the door and bolted it.

“Did your sister come to check if I have slit your throat in the night?” Vasusena chuckled

Krishna gave him a resigned look and muttered, “She’s married to your brother, that makes her your sister too!”

Which effectively stopped Vasusena’s laughter. He muttered something darkly and had settled down when there was another knock at the door.

Krishna’s face brightened. “It’s your mother,” mouthed he as he went to open the door.

Kunti stood in the doorway.

“Come inside aunt,” said Krishna, smiling.

Vasusena got up from where he was sitting on the bed.

“I think I will go downstairs,” said Krishna winking at Vasusena. “Shout if you need me.”

He went out of the room chuckling.

Kunti pushed the door closed.

Part Nineteen

He went out again after food. The rain did not seem to be letting up, even slightly. It seemed to be strengthening.

Thunder rumbled, a deep booming sound that seemed to echo in his very marrow. Lightning streaked across the sky.

He sighed. It did not look as if he might be able to continue his journey today. Even if the rain stopped in the next few hours, he would not be able to make it back before sundown.

He did not want to spend the night here. But he knew he had no choices. Travel at night was risky even with a full moon in the best of roads. And he had to traverse a forest path.

He heard the door open and close and a light footstep behind him. He did not turn around, his face became grim. He knew who it was.

“I have no desire to talk to you.” Said he without turning around.

“Please don’t say that,” said Kunti, her voice shaking. She lifted her hand and placed it on his arm. “Please tell me what I should do to win your forgiveness.”

He ignored the hand on his arm. Her touch was so cold it burned him.

“It is not within your power to reverse the clock. But I can promise I shall never conspire against your sons or cause them harm.”

“I did not come to you to ask you anything on their behalf.” Her hand tightened on his arm. “Vasusena! Look at me!”

He turned his head to look at her. Then he straightened, removed her hand from his arm and led her to the carved seat.

He sat down next to her.

“Speak,” said he. “I shall listen to what you have to say.”

She looked at him, her eyes full of yearning that he chose to ignore, though it tugged at a part of him.

“I made a mistake,” her voice was calm, gentle. It was how he had expected death to sound like.

“I cannot undo what I did. I cannot turn back time. I can only make amends.”

“Amends?” He smiled grimly. “What amends can you possibly make now? You were eager to claim me as yours when war came. You were willing to reveal the truth then. What happened to that willingness now? Have you told your sons yet?”

She met his eye. “Why haven’t you?” She countered. “There’s not going to be a war. They are not your enemies. What stops you from telling them the truth?”

“Because I have no desire to claim them as mine!” He spoke the words knowing that they were no longer completely true. But he knew that tie of blood notwithstanding, they would never be his.

“And that is my answer too. Why should I saddle them with an elder brother who cares for them not! Why should I inflict on you the presence of those you hate! You will never love them and they would be left heartbroken.”

“You sound as if they are going to love me,” he did not keep the disbelief out of his voice.

She smiled bitterly, “Not everyone carries grudges as you do.”

“Why are you here then? You know I won’t let go of my grudge so easily!”

“You may hate me. But I love you. I always have. But I too was bound by duty, to my sons, to my husband, to his family. I was not prepared to sacrifice my entire life to claim you. If that makes me selfish, then yes, I am selfish.” She paused. “But I love you, Vasusena. I have loved you from the first moment I ever saw you.”

“So much so that you put me in a box and floated me away,” he paused. “Mother. Is that not what you did?”

“The circumstances were such. And I was but a child.” She paused. Her eyes bored into his. “But you are no child. You are a man. And it is for you to choose whether to forgive a little girl who made a terrible mistake out of fear.”

He said nothing. What was the use? She would never understand. And even now, she was concerned more for his forgiveness than his welfare.

He lowered his eyes and took her hands in his. They were worn, rough and calloused. They were the hands of a woman who had suffered. They were not the hands of a woman who lived in luxury. They were not the hands of a queen. If he were to close his eyes, he would have taken them for his mother’s hands.

He bent down and kissed the rough palms of her hands, one by one.

He dropped her hands and looked into her eyes. Her eyes were swimming in tears. There was joy and longing in her eyes and hope and a whole lot of emotions he could not even name.

“I forgive you,” said he, “But that is all I am prepared to give right now.”

She nodded, her tears spilling out. “I understand. I can wait, my son,”

She rose, lifted his face between her hands and kissed his forehead.

“You will not come inside?”

He shook his head, his forehead still tingling from her kiss.

“Mother,” he whispered to the rain after she had gone inside. He felt cleansed, as if a burden had been lifted from his heart.