Geetha Krishnan's Blog, page 30

The Life that Never Was: Parts Fifteen to Eighteen

“Mother, what’s the matter?” Asked Sahadeva concerned.

Kunti shook her head but did not speak. She blinked back her tears. She deserved those words, but Krishna of all people should know that she loved her son. Her circumstances prevented her from acknowledging him, but that did not mean she did not care.

“Then why did you never reveal the truth to him before?” Krishna’s voice spoke to her heart. “Why did you not tell him the truth any time in all the years you have known him? Because he was never directly a threat to your sons’ life before?”

She had no answer. The voice was remorseless. It asked again, “And if you care for him, why do you still hesitate to tell the truth to your sons?”

She glanced up to look at Krishna, beseechingly. Krishna’s face was devoid of expression. Her sons looked bewildered. They did not hear Krishna’s questions. Those were meant only for her.

“Krishna,” said Bheema complainingly. “You have caused mother pain.”

“And what did I say to her that should have caused her pain?” Responded Krishna.

“Nothing,” said Arjuna, sounding bewildered. “You only said mother’s concern for Vasusena was misplaced. Why do you feel so bad about it, mother?”

“Whatever he said,” said Yudhistira. “It has upset mother. I too agree that it should not have. But it did.”

“I apologize, aunt,” said Krishna. “It was not my intention to cause you pain. I was simply pointing out to you the futility of your concern.”

He rose. “I shall bring him inside, if that will relieve your concerns,”

Kunti rose and intercepted him.

“I heard what you said to my heart too,” said she in a low voice.

“You know aunt,” said Krishna, speaking in an undertone too. “I really do not see any purpose in continuing this conversation. I admit I have some affection for Vasusena, but that is nothing compared to the love I bear for your other sons.” He paused. “And yet, there are times when I feel ashamed of my act in revealing the truth to him at that time.” He looked into her eyes. “You are his mother and you claim you love him as much as you do your other sons. How do you sleep at night?”

“I have no answers,” she whispered. “But I love him.”

“Again you say that,” said he sighing. “But you don’t need to worry, aunt. Your sons shall never know from me. I am still bound by the promise I gave to Vasusena. And as long as that word binds me, I shall be silent. But if it so happens that someday you lay awake at night, please try to think of what your selfishness has cost all six of your sons.”

She stood still as he bowed to her and went to the door, opened it and went out, closing it softly behind him.

 

 

16.

 

Vasusena looked up as the door opened and Krishna stepped out. The expression on Krishna’s face was forbidding. But it changed as he saw the patch of grass on the floor.

“Who was here?” He asked, curious.

Vasusena raised his eyebrows at the curiosity. “Arjuna’s father,” said he.

It was Krishna’s turn to lift his eyebrow.

“Arjuna’s father? King of the Devas? What did he want?”

Vasusena shrugged. He could not understand this sudden onrush of affection from those who had never spared a thought for him. All relatives of Pandavas, be it their mother, cousin or deva father, seemed suddenly eager to claim him as part of the family. And yet, none of them had ever given a damn for him.

Krishna sat down next to him. “When have you given a damn for any of us?”

“I am not the one running after you begging to be acknowledged as part of your family.”

“And you never will, I think,” said Krishna softly. “You shall never open your heart to us either.”

Vasusena looked away. “It is not so easy for me to open my heart to those who had ever hated me.”

“You are denying them a chance to change their mind and yet you accuse them of this?”

“Why do I have to reveal the truth in order to change their mind? There’s no longer going to be a war. Then why can’t they set aside their enmity for me?”

“They might, in time. But I do not want any more situations like in the past.”

“Suyodhana accepted me when I was no one. And you say my own brothers can’t accept me unless I reveal the truth.” He paused. “I refuse to reveal the truth. I don’t want them to change their minds. Let them hug their enmity close to their hearts. It is of no moment to me.”

“Your brothers are of no moment to you? Your mother is of no moment to you?”

“She’s not my mother. And no, none of them is of any moment to me.” He tried to pretend that the pang he felt as he spoke was his imagination.

“Neither your denial nor your hatred is going to change the truth.” Krishna paused. “Vasusena, I accept that you are angry with her. But it is not she alone who is going to suffer! Her sons are losing the love and care of their older brother that is their due! Their wives are losing the protection of an older brother! Their sons are losing the caring and affection of their uncle!”

“The way I heard it, their sons never even got the affection of their fathers,” Vasusena said drily.

“All the more reason for them to have yours.”

“Krishna,” said Vasusena said with a sigh, “If you were so concerned, then why did you not tell me the truth earlier? When was the first time we met? After the Pandavas’ marriage to Draupadi, was it not? Why didn’t you tell me then? You might say anything you wish, but I am not going to believe your action was actuated by concern for me!”

Krishna gripped his shoulders and stared intently into his eyes. “Listen, Vasusena. I do not claim my action was unselfish. I was motivated by my concern for them, I admit. But it was not my secret to reveal. And had the situation not been dire, I would not have revealed it even then.”

Vasusena wrenched himself free of Krishna’s grip. “The situation is no longer dire. I am no longer a threat to your friends’ lives. It was not your secret, I accept that. Yet, you chose to reveal it based on your assessment of the level of risk to your friends. But that risk always existed Krishna! You, of all people know that! Yet, you chose to be silent saying it is not your secret!” He shook his head. “You make me sick.”

Krishna’s face paled but he did not flinch. “I am trying to make amends.”

“That is not in your power,” Vasusena sighed. “Go inside Krishna. Go to your friends. I wish to be alone.”

Krishna’s eyes were unreadable as they gazed into Vasusena’s. Krishna raised his hands and cupped Vasusena’s face. “You have no idea what all is in my power! Though by now, you should be having an idea!” His voice was fierce.

He released Vasusena’s face and rose. “Enjoy your solitude cousin. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

Krishna walked inside. The day seemed even darker to Vasusena.

 

 

17.

 

Kunti stood rooted to the spot. She was not aware of Draupadi and Subhadra leading her to a couch and sitting her on it. Bheema had gone to the kitchen to get some water which she drank mechanically.

“What happened, mother?” Yudhistira’s voice was full of concern. He was chafing her hand and she noticed that Arjuna was chafing her other hand.

“Nothing, son,” her voice sounded faint even to her.

“Then why were you trembling?” Asked Nakula. His voice, verging on panic brought her to her senses. She needed to control herself. That or tell the truth, to tell Yudhistira to step aside for Vasusena who abhorred them all.

She knew it was due to her silence that Vasusena was now their enemy. And yet, was it? Hadn’t he entered the arena as a challenger to Arjuna? How could her revealing the truth have been beneficial to anyone then?

Even if she had told Yudhistira or Vasusena or both in secret, would it really have made any difference? Most probably, they both would have chafed at her for not openly revealing it. A secret relationship was akin to a shameful relationship. How could she have subjected herself or her sons to that?

Besides, shouldn’t her sons and Vasusena be putting the past behind them? No war threatened them now. If everyone would try, enmities might be forgotten.

Well, thought she, telling Vasusena in secret had not helped at all. He clutched the secret to his heart and resented those who told him. The secret festered in his heart though there was nothing that stopped him from revealing it.

Why couldn’t he reveal it, thought she in desperation. Could he not understand her helplessness? He was her first born. He had the right to reveal the truth if he so wished. No one has enjoined him to keep it secret! It was his wish! Then why could he not reveal it and save her from this agony?

The door opened and Krishna came in. His expression was serene. He was also alone.

 

 

18.

 

“Shall I serve lunch?” The voice broke into his thoughts. Vasusena looked at the smiling youth and smiled back.

“Had the others had their lunch?”

“They are having. The old lady asked you to join them.”

Vasusena nodded. He could hardly reject the invitation without seeming boorish and childish. He would join them. He could put up a polite mask and pretend too.

The only empty seat was next to Bheema and he took it. It was directly opposite Arjuna which did not help matters either.

“How is Padmavathy?” Asked Krishna, breaking the silence.

“She is well.”

“And her uncle and aunt?”

“Her uncle and aunt and grandparents are all very well, thank you,” said he with elaborate politeness.

“Now that there’s not going to be a war,” said Krishna. “There’s no reason for you to go back in such haste. You could go back to your wife.”

Vasusena looked at Krishna, wondering what he was trying to do now. It was true that nothing urgent awaited him back in Kurukshetra. It was equally true that his wife would be happy to have his company for this week. And he too wanted to be with her. He could send a message to Suyodhana. He would understand. But what was Krishna’s stake in this?

He concentrated on his plate. The food was good. He was probably imputing to Krishna, motives that did not exist.

The boy brought some meat which he declined automatically. He wondered if his vow had any meaning since there was not going to be a war. But he was used to abstaining from meat and wine now. And he felt no particular temptation to start again.

Padmavathy’s uncle had grumbled for an entire day about his oath. He had spoken bitterly about young Sutas who imagined themselves to be Kshatriyas and made vows. A sudden nostalgia assailed Vasusena.

He would go back, he decided. He would go to Padmavathy and would stay with her till the end of the week. He could send word to Suyodhana and to Vrishasena.

“You don’t eat meat?” Bheema asked now.

The question surprised him. But he answered civilly enough. “Not now.”

“Why not?” Asked Arjuna. “Since the war had been stopped, I should think your oath should be void by itself.”

“I am used to this by now,” replied Vasusena, not really surprised that Arjuna knew of his oath. But in that moment, he was really grateful that the Pandavas did not know he was their brother.

The Life that Never Was: Parts Thirteen and Fourteen

“What were you discussing so animatedly about?” Kunti sat down between Nakula and Sahadeva.

Draupadi sat next to Bheema and Subhadra sat near her husband.

“I could hear raised voices from upstairs,” said Draupadi.

“It was nothing important,” said Bheema.

“Nothing important?” Asked Kunti. “Then why were you arguing?”

“We were not arguing,” said Yudhistira. “Just having a discussion on friends and enemies.”

“There are no longer enemies,” said Kunti. “There is not going to be a war.”

“Enmity is not based on whether a war is going to happen or not,” growled Bheema. “We thought we could live in peace in Indraprastha once before too. Remember? I think we are being foolish if we think we would be allowed to live in peace now!”

“As long as uncle lives, there might be peace,” said Arjuna.

“I don’t have that much faith in our uncle either,” Bheema muttered.

“There are ways of ensuring permanent peace without getting rid of your cousins.” Said Krishna. “And I for one, would favour bloodshed only as a last resort.” His eyes swept them all. “But once we choose that option, there should be no hesitation or doubt. We should be prepared to give it our all till we achieve victory, no matter who stands against us!”

“I too do not want bloodshed,” said Yudhistira. “And I am happy we could avoid it.”

“I am still not happy,” said Sahadeva.

“Nor I,” growled Bheema.

“What brought this up now?” Asked Draupadi. She kept her head lowered and did not look at any of them.

“Krishna had an argument with Vasusena and he went out.” Said Arjuna.

“Krishna had an- you mean the King of Anga is here?” Subhadra’s voice held bewilderment.

“Yes. He came in just a while ago.” Said Yudhistira. “And went out,”

“Into that storm?” Kunti seemed concerned.

“You don’t need to be so concerned, aunt.” Krishna spoke with deliberation. “He had survived far worse even as an infant. I’m sure he’ll be unscathed.”

Kunti paled and looked down. Her hands clasped together in her lap.

“But I can still be concerned,” said she without raising her eyes.

“But why?” Asked Krishna. “He’s no helpless newborn baby, but a man and a warrior. And it is only a little bit of rain, not a raging river. I’m sure he won’t drown!”

Kunti still did not raise her eyes, but a drop of tear splashed on to her hands.

 

14.

 

Vasusena looked rather resignedly at the one who materialized in front of him.

“And what have you come for this time?” He asked.

Indra sat down on the wooden seat. “This seat is really uncomfortable,” said he.

Vasusena looked up with a sigh and sat down next to the deva.

“Welcome to the human world, King of Devas.”

“I am also your uncle.” Said Indra. “Is that any way to greet me?”

Vasusena lowered his face on to his hands. “Please tell me why you have come and go,” he groaned. “I really have no time for your immortal jokes.”

Indra huffed. “Joke? Let me tell you, young man, that I am not in the habit of joking.”

“That I can well believe,” muttered Vasusena.

“Are you laughing at me?” Demanded Indra. “Are you mocking me?”

“Yes. What do you propose to do about it?”

“I can try and develop a sense of humour,” was the totally unexpected reply. “What else is there to do when one has such disrespectful nephews?”

“I hope you are going to explain how, in the name of all fourteen worlds, did I become your nephew?”

“Your father and I share the same parents,” said Indra. “I would say that makes us brothers and his son would be my nephew.”

“I am hoping I am the only nephew you have,” said Vasusena, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Because your love for me is really overwhelming. I am sure none of your other nephews, if any, might have survived the display of it.”

“About that,” said Indra, though he did not look discomfited. “The situation was also such.”

“Yes, I’m certain.”

Indra held out a hand and touched Vasusena’s chest. The touch burned him.

“At least you are unscarred.”

“Yes.” He paused. “Thank you.”

“But you did not ask that it not cause pain,” said Indra, withdrawing his hand. Vasusena stole a surreptitious glance at his chest and was surprised to find his skin was unmarked. He had expected a burn.

He realized Indra was speaking “You asked that you be unscarred, but chose to suffer the pain of cutting them off,”

Vasusena shrugged. “What’s a bit of pain to a warrior?”

Indra nodded. “True.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because you called me.”

Vasusena looked baffled. “Something wrong with your hearing? Why should I call you?”

“You asked me what more I wanted. How can I answer that unless I come here? Er.. That question was directed at me, wasn’t it?”

Vasusena groaned. “I thought I must be having a nightmare. But now I understand. You have come to drive me crazy!”

“Oh no, nephew. Not that. I know you are feeling a bit low. But that’s only because it’s raining. Once the sun starts shining again, you will be normal. Not that there’s much difference, but still-”

“Was that sarcasm?” Interrupted Vasusena, chuckling. “I’m impressed, Lord Indra.”

“Must be due to your company, nephew.”

They looked at each other. There was a lurking smile in the deva’s eyes. Vasusena shook his head. “Just leave, will you?”

Indra rose. “I will. But I do wish to claim you as my nephew someday. And I hope that day is soon.”

Vasusena kept staring at the spot where he vanished. A patch of grass was there on the stone floor.

The Life that Never Was: Parts Eleven and Twelve

Arjuna saw Vasusena turn his head and before he dropped his eyes, he had seen the anguish in his eyes. He had not believed it possible for his worst enemy to have such an expression in his eyes. He wondered what Krishna had said to cause that pain.

 

Vasusena rose and walked to the front door and opened it. The rain was falling heavily now interspersed with flashes of thunder and lightning. There was also a strong wind blowing. Ignoring the foul weather, he stepped out, closing the door carefully behind him.

 

There was silence in the room except for the drumming of rain on the roof. Arjuna stared at the door. “What did you say to him?” He asked Krishna.

 

“Something for which he was not ready,” Krishna’s voice was calm and steady.

 

“He is in so much pain; whatever you said caused that.” Yudhistira sounded weary. “Its not easy to keep hating someone after seeing that kind of pain on their face. Especially since we are not at war.”

 

“Not being at war is not going to change anything,” said Bheema. “It is not going to end hatred or envy or greed.”

 

“Let us not worry about that now,” said Nakula. “And why are we actually discussing the King of Anga? He is our enemy.”

 

“In times of peace, there should be no enmity,” his twin’s voice was soft.

 

“Tell it to them!” Snorted Bheema. “The King of Anga has exhibited neither enmity nor hostility,” reminded Sahadeva.

 

“He isn’t the sole representative of their side,” Bheema argued.

 

“But he is the one who he is here,” said Arjuna. “And I agree with Sahadeva. As long as he does not treat us like enemies, there is no need for us to treat him like one.”

 

A light step on the stair stopped their argument. Kunti was coming down the stairs accompanied by Draupadi and Subhadra.

 

12.

 

Vasusena stood near to the railing. Seats were carved in wood close to it. The area was protected from the elements but the occasional gust of wind sprayed water on him. He wiped his face, feeling grateful that the rain drops masked his tears.

 

Yudhistira’s frown had changed to surprise and his expression had softened as their eyes had met. Somehow it was that change in his brother’s expression that had caused Vasusena’s eyes to prickle and for him to seek shelter here.

 

His brothers! His hands gripped the railing. His brothers were they, but in spite of what Krishna said, he did not think he had anything to give them. Love? Care? That came with a lifetime of togetherness, of caring for one another, of shared childhood, of shared joys and sorrows, of shared laughter and meals and fighting shoulder to shoulder. He had none of that with them. The only memories were the memories of sarcastic remarks from him and insults from them. All they had shared through the years was hatred and enmity. All he could remember was standing against Arjuna, grim hatred in both pairs of eyes.

 

Krishna might be right about them. His brothers might not find it difficult to love him, to forget their hatred once they learned the truth. They might be better men than he was. But he could not change himself so easily.

 

Love was not easy, thought he. His hatred might be a shadow now, but love was yet to take its place. And love did not come easily to the man who had been abandoned at birth by the woman who bore him.

 

The wind drove a sheet of rain on to him, which nearly pushed him to the wall. He sighed. “What more do you want?”

 

Perhaps he should not have asked that, thought he resignedly as a familiar figure materialized in front of him.

The Life that Never Was: Part Ten

Yudhistira watched Krishna talk to Vasusena. The two were conversing on low tones. He wondered what they were talking about.

“What are they talking about?” Muttered Bheema.

“That’s what I too would like to find out,” murmured Yudhistira. They both looked at Arjuna who had the sharpest hearing amongst the five.

Arjuna shook his head. “I can’t hear anything,” said he. “They are on the other side of the room and talking in very low tones. The rain is a very effective cloak too. I might be able to hear if I strain but I would not be able to distinguish the words they speak.” He paused. “And I do not want to strain. I do not want to spy on Krishna.”

“It’s not spying,” muttered Nakula. “They are not talking in secret or anything,”

“If they intended to be heard, they would be speaking aloud,” said Sahadeva. “Arjuna is right. We would be spying if we tried to overhear their conversation.”

“They look like they are arguing,” muttered Yudhistira.

“You don’t seem very happy about it,” said Arjuna with a curious glance at him. Yudhistira fidgeted. He wasn’t happy. Because from their posture, it seemed that their argument was a friendly one. There was no hostility in them towards each other. And that’s what bothered him.

“The King of Anga looks discomfited,” murmured Sahadeva.

So he did, noticed Yudhistira. Vasusena was looking away from Krishna, as if reluctant to meet the other’s eyes. Yudhistira was not certain if it was a good thing.

Vasusena turned his face and his eyes met Yudhistira’s. Yudhistira felt his breath catch at the raw pain in the man’s eyes.

The Life that Never Was

Yudhistira watched Krishna talk to Vasusena. The two were conversing on low tones. He wondered what they were talking about.

“What are they talking about?” Muttered Bheema.

“That’s what I too would like to find out,” murmured Yudhistira. They both looked at Arjuna who had the sharpest hearing amongst the five.

Arjuna shook his head. “I can’t hear anything,” said he. “They are on the other side of the room and talking in very low tones. The rain is a very effective cloak too. I might be able to hear if I strain but I would not be able to distinguish the words they speak.” He paused. “And I do not want to strain. I do not want to spy on Krishna.”

“It’s not spying,” muttered Nakula. “They are not talking in secret or anything,”

“If they intended to be heard, they would be speaking aloud,” said Sahadeva. “Arjuna is right. We would be spying if we tried to overhear their conversation.”

“They look like they are arguing,” muttered Yudhistira.

“You don’t seem very happy about it,” said Arjuna with a curious glance at him. Yudhistira fidgeted. He wasn’t happy. Because from their posture, it seemed that their argument was a friendly one. There was no hostility in them towards each other. And that’s what bothered him.

“The King of Anga looks discomfited,” murmured Sahadeva.

So he did, noticed Yudhistira. Vasusena was looking away from Krishna, as if reluctant to meet the other’s eyes. Yudhistira was not certain if it was a good thing.

Vasusena turned his face and his eyes met Yudhistira’s. Yudhistira felt his breath catch at the raw pain in the man’s eyes.

The Life that Never Was: Part Nine

“When did you start? This morning?” Krishna’s voice intruded into his thoughts.

Vasusena nodded. “How about you?”

“We started yesterday night after the terms had been agreed on. The armies had been disbanded and sent to their respective kingdoms. Pitamaha Bheeshma has taken personal responsibility for the armies of Anga.”

Vasusena felt relieved. He was also surprised, but he did not show it, just nodding in response. A goblet of water was brought to him and he drained it in one gulp. He had not realized he was thirsty.

“Something to eat?” The boy asked.

He shook his head. “Some more water, please.”

The boy nodded, and left returning immediately with a jug of water.

“You Lords will have something to eat?”

“Not now,” spoke Yudhistira.

“What about the ladies?”

“They too shall have later,” said he.

Ladies? Vasusena frowned. He hoped that the ladies did not consist of Kunti. Now that the threat of war was over, he only wanted to forget her and her sons, preferably for the rest of his life.

Krishna rose from where he was sitting and came to him. He sat down next to him.

“And do you think you will be able to forget that easily?” His voice was a whisper that was barely audible.

Vasusena glanced at the Pandavas. They had not heard, but they looked surprised.

“Your friends are surprised,” he whispered back. “Soon they will be worried and curious.”

Krishna smiled and answered, still in that undertone. “Why are you so bothered about what they might think?”

“I am not,” he muttered. “But as their friend, you should be.”

“As their friend, I should be trying to remove the estrangement between them and their brother, shouldn’t I?”

Vasusena looked down at his own clasped hands.

“Vasusena?”

“They are not my brothers,” the response was automatic.

Krishna snorted. “How about the truth?” His whisper held intensity.

Vasusena licked his lips which were suddenly dry. “I… I’m not ready. And,” he paused, searching for words. He raised his eyes and looked Krishna full in the face. “I can’t forgive her.”

“Have you tried?”

“I don’t want to try,” his smile was grim.

“And are your brothers to pay the price? And for how long? Their mother’s concern for her reputation had cost them your love and care. And now your anger for her should also cost them?” Krishna paused. “You may not need them or their love, but have you considered that perhaps they might need your love?”

“Love!” Murmured Vasusena. “You make it sound so easy!”

“It is easy if you just open your heart,”

Vasusena looked away from the other man. Krishna’s eyes held so much depth, that he feared he might get lost.

He was not aware of the vulnerability or the anguish in his eyes as he turned his face away and his eyes met Yudhistira’s.

The Life that Never Was: Part Eight

The young man looked at him in confusion, but Vasusena had recovered his composure.

With a nod at the occupants of the room, he walked inside and sat down on to an empty couch as far away from them as possible. The room was low ceilinged and warm. It was also crowded with chairs and couches and divans and small tables.

“Do you need something to drink?” The youth asked.

“Just water,” said he.

He nodded and went towards the kitchen.

There was silence in the room. The patter of rain seemed unnaturally loud. Vasusena pointedly looked away from the others.

The Pandavas, for it was they, fidgeted uncomfortably. Krishna seemed unruffled.

“I hope you heard that the war had been avoided,” said Krishna. His intent gaze was on Vasusena.

Vasusena glanced at Krishna, trying hard not to show his overwhelming relief.

“No, I received no message.”

“A messenger might have been despatched today,” said Krishna. “The terms were finalized only late evening yesterday.”

“And what are those terms?”

“The Pandavas shall have Indraprastha back. As per the terms of the dice game.”

“This is not the way to Indraprastha,” he could not help saying. He still could not understand what they were doing here.

“No, but I suggested a trip to the famous Siva temple before they leave for Indraprastha.”

Vasusena made no answer. The temple was not all that famous. He had a feeling Krishna had engineered this situation. Though how he could have engineered an unseasonal rain was beyond him.

He could not accuse Krishna of engineering anything, though. The silence that fell was an uncomfortable one. It was punctuated by the sound of Bheema breaking his knuckles, Nakula tapping his foot and Sahadeva drumming his fingers. Yudhistira fidgeted. Arjuna was still, deliberately not looking at Vasusena. The situation was not a comfortable one for Vasusena. That the Pandavas looked equally uncomfortable was the only consolation he could find. But he was hoping the rain would clear soon so that he could be on his way.

The Life That Never Was Part Seven

The building appeared deserted. It was small, but appeared strong and well maintained. A young man came outside as he dismounted and knocked at the gate. Vasusena noticed the young man was a cripple and walked with a limp. He also had a squint. But his smile was pleasant as he opened the gate and led his horse to the stables.

The stable was dry and was built to protect the horses from the elements. There were a few more horses there indicating that he was not the only traveller to seek shelter there.

Vasusena wondered if he would need to sleep in the stables too. This guest house had been built by Suyodhana at his insistence. But it had only very few rooms. And it did not look as if any had been added.

But it was well maintained. He wondered if this young man was the only one working here. He directed a query at the youth and received a shake of the head.

“There were four in all,” he said. “But now they all went to help with the war. I am alone now.”

Which was only to be expected, thought Vasusena.

He asked if any rooms were available.

“If you don’t mind sharing a room, I might be able to accommodate you,” he said hesitantly.

Vasusena smiled. “I would not mind sharing a room. But wouldn’t your other guests mind?”

The youth shook his head. “No, Lord. The men already said if someone comes in, they would share.”

“It might not come to that,” said Vasusena. “If the rain stops before evening, I will be on my way.”

The rain started then, a slow drizzle, but from the look of the sky, Vasusena felt it might become stronger in time.

“Where do you sleep?” He asked, turning to the young man.

“In the kitchen. It is quite warm in weather like this.”

“Are you the cook?”

The young man nodded. “Yes, lord. And there is enough food for all… I hope.”

Vasusena smiled but said nothing. He was not feeling hungry yet. The time he judged to be mid morning. He had not had breakfast and yet he felt no hunger.

He stepped into the hall which doubled as a sitting room and stopped short at seeing the persons inside.

The Life that Never Was: Part Six

Vasusena bid farewell to his wife as he mounted his horse. It was not a tearful farewell. For the first time since the war was announced, there was hope in both their hearts.

He had decided to leave the chariot behind as he could go faster on horseback. He was also travelling light, taking only his weapons.

The forest was the only difficult part of the journey. But the path was a much travelled one and they had had no difficulty while coming. Though well trodden, the path did have a few places where they were forced to get down from the chariot and walk. The chariot had to be pushed in a few places. There was also an old and worn bridge which they had crossed one by one. Vasusena had first brought Padmavathy across, then unhitched the horses and brought them over one by one, tied them and then had pulled the chariot across. Fortunately the chariot was not heavy and the bridge held.

A lone traveller on horseback was not going to find it too difficult to traverse such places. So Vasusena anticipated a quick and easy journey. He also hoped that some decision regarding the war would have been reached by the time he gets back.

It was quite possible that things would still be at an impasse, thought he, as he rode back. If the King and Suyodhana both held firm, no decision might be possible in a day.

Of course, if the King stood firm, Suyodhana might not have much choice. His obduracy would not make any difference.

He frowned as the day darkened and dark clouds rolled overhead. His horse seemed restive too.

There was no shelter to be found anywhere on the way, he knew. But there was a guest house if he took a detour to the west. It was a more frequented path.

He turned his horse to the west. There was no point in taking chances.

The Life that Never Was: Part Five

Vasusena sat on the steps of the small house, helping Padmavathy’s uncle in repairing a chariot.

“I thought you would have forgotten all this,” he told Vasusena. “It’s good to see you still remember your trade.”

Vasusena smiled. “How can one forget the craft one learned from the cradle, uncle?”

“So true,” the old man beamed. “But the way I heard it, you learned to shoot an arrow and to ride a horse from the cradle too.” He paused. “All this war and archery is for Kshatriyas. We should stick to what we do. Charioteering or singing and storytelling should be good enough for Sutas.”

Vasusena smiled. The old man was a firm believer in tradition.

“But there are some good warriors among Sutas,” the old man continued. “And times are changing. I wouldn’t be too surprised to see Suta warriors in our armies. But being a King is not for Sutas.”

“The circumstances were such,” said Vasusena, quite gravely.

“Yes, I know. I have heard tales of it. You could not have said no without offending the Prince. So it’s not your fault. That’s what I told my sister, your mother-in-law, when she asked my advice. She, having lost her husband did not know what to do when Atiradha came to her with the proposal. But I told her. See this boy is a King. But it is not his fault. You should not hold it against him. I’m certain he’s a good respectable Suta though he might have ideas about becoming a warrior. Young people will have new fangled ideas. But he comes from a good family.”

He beamed at Vasusena again. “And I was right. You never forgot your trade. I saw the way you drove the horses. No one would know you are a King. You drove them better than Sutas who have been doing it all their lives.”

Vasusena was trying hard to stifle his laughter. He feared he would not be able to much longer. Fortunately, Padmavathy came there telling her uncle that some of his friends have come.

“I had promised to go for the naming ceremony of one of their grandchildren,” said the old man. “He’s been too late coming, after prayers and what not. So now they want a good name. And I have to go there too. I know you are leaving tomorrow. Don’t delay even if I am not back by then,”

He beamed at Padmavathy. “I have told your husband that we are proud of him though he’s a King.”

He went inside, beaming.

Vasusena looked at his wife. Padmavathy looked aghast and that was the last straw. Vasusena went into peals of mirth. Fortunately, the old man was out of earshot.

Padmavathy sat next to him, laughing as she listened to Vasusena recount her uncle’s words, chortling all the while.