AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2) (28 page)

Krishna quickly explained to Khatotkacha what Bhima required him to do. When he finished, Khatotkacha looked at both men in confusion. “But I have nothing against Prince Duryodhana or his son. Why should I spoil the marriage?”

“We too do not have anything against Lakshmana Kumara, son, but we have to do this for two people who love each other.” Krishna hurriedly stepped in to fill Bhima’s silence.

“Father, is this really what you want me to do?” Khatotkacha asked.

Bhima had not spoken a word since they had arrived, merely standing beside Krishna. Now he gave the smallest of nods.

Khatotkacha turned to Krishna. “I will do it, Swami, for my father.”

“You know that if they catch you, Duryodhana will flay you alive?”

“I do it for my father. It is my
dharma.”
Khatotkacha wished with all his heart that his father would look at him, but Bhima’s face appeared to be set in stone, his eyes gazing into the distance.

“Do you wish to meet my mother?” Khatotkacha asked Bhima.

Krishna looked at Bhima and read the refusal there. He gently shook his head at the eager teenager. For a fleeting moment, pity touched his heart.

Khatotkacha knew he should not have asked. Before he could say anything more, Krishna and Bhima had turned away and left. ‘Father, wait!’ he cried silently. ‘Let me show you my aim with the arrows, my power with the mace. Do not go!’ The words never left his lips. Silently he watched his tall father vanish like a dream.

“You are lucky, cousin,” Iravan said, trying not to sound jealous.

“We may be untouchables, Iravan, but surely one day our fathers will need us,” replied Khatotkacha.

“Can I come with you?”

“It will be dangerous.”

“Then I should be with you.”

Khatotkacha looked at his cousin in surprise. Iravan was jealous but that was not going to stop him from risking his life. Khatotkacha nodded. His cousin’s face bloomed into a smile like a wild flower.

Later, as he rode towards Hastinapura in the dead of night, a strange fear gripped Khatotkacha. Had Vasuki not warned them against interfering in the affairs of the Pandavas and Kauravas? He reminded himself that his
dharma
was not to think about the consequences of his actions, but merely to do what his father wanted. They rode in silence towards Hastinapura’s brightly lit palace, trying not to think about the dangerous mission they had undertaken.

*****

30
  
T
HE
B
OY
L
OVER

SUYODHANA HURRIED TOWARDS THE SABHA.
The courtiers rose as he walked in with Bhanumati and Lakshmana. The Royals bowed before the elders and then waited for the bridegroom to arrive. The sounds of a commotion arose above the murmuring of the
mantras
and every head turned towards the door. Balarama pulled Kumara into the Sabha, an iron grip on his arm. The young Prince had tears running down his face.

Bhanumati tried to rush to her son but Suyodhana held her back. “Guru Balarama, what is the meaning of this?”

“You want to know the meaning, Suyodhana? It means I have been a fool. My wife was against this marriage, my brother too, yet I went against them, thinking he was your son, that I could make amends for what happened to you years ago.”

“What has my son done?” Bhanumati cried, tears in her own eyes.

“Sister, you will not wish to hear it in public. I will explain later. Regretfully, we must call off this marriage,” Krishna said.

“Enough of your games, Krishna. You want to call off the marriage without giving us a reason?” Suyodhana turned and demanded of the younger Yadava.

“Suyodhana, my friend, did I not say I would tell you later, not here in public? You will regret it if you insist, believe me,” Krishna replied, urging discretion.

“You insult me and then say you will explain later? Tell me now!”

“Such things are better spoken of in private,” Krishna replied.

“I know my son, Krishna. What is it that he has done?”

“Remember it was you who insisted on hearing this publicly. Your son was found in bed with a boy.”

“What?” Suyodhana stood in trembling disbelief before rushing towards his son, his face red with rage. Bhanumati grabbed his arm trying to stop him but he roughly pushed her away. He slapped Kumara, leaving the imprint of his fingers on his son’s pale face. “Who was the boy? Bring him to me now!” Suyodhana yelled, his voice shaking with anger and humiliation. Soldiers ran out to search for the culprit.

“Suyodhana, just listen to what the boy has to say first.” He heard Bhishma’s voice but shook his head. No, he did not need further elaborations. Bhanu was crying, Lakshmana was pleading. Enough said and heard. All he wanted was to get his hands around the throat of his son’s lover. Suyodhana clenched his fists and closed his eyes. How his vassal Kings and the Priests would laugh at his expense. It was a curse having such a son! He should have killed him long ago. No wonder Kumara was uninterested in archery, no wonder he was afraid of weapons, he was just an effeminate queer! How was he to entrust his empire to such a son when the time came? The shame of it! All Bharatavarsha would hear that Suyodhana had such a son.

The Sabha emptied quickly. Suyodhana could hear the whispers fading away. A few people came to offer their sympathies but most just turned away. Karna spoke conciliatory words and Bhishma tried to chide him. Aswathama said he would find the other boy. Bhanumati stood in silence. Suyodhana did not understand a word anyone said. He did not care.

Soon he was alone in the cavernous Sabha. He vaguely heard someone say that the other boy had escaped. They had found him in the royal kitchen. After having gagged and tied up six kitchen workers, he was devouring the wedding food with relish. It was almost as if he he had been waiting for someone to discover him. When the soldiers arrived, he wrecked the kitchen, overturning vessels, toppling stoves and setting fire to the structure. While the soldiers battled the flames, the boy climbed the fort wall like a monkey and disappeared. He had someone waiting for him with a horse. The hunt for him was on.

“Who was he?” Suyodhana asked the soldier standing before him.

“We do not know, Sir. He was dark and wild-looking, like a Rakshasa.”

“Leave me!” His son preferred a Rakshasa boy to the beautiful daughter of his Guru?

The last of the torches finally died. The darkness became perfect.

*****

31
   
K
IRATHARJUNEEYAM

EKALAVYA READ HIS GOD-DAUGHTER’S
letter again. Something about the missive troubled him. It did not contain the usual banter that always brought a smile to his lips. He had decided not to attend Kumara’s marriage, preferring not to open himself to insult again. But the letter made him change his mind. Lakshmana had written to say that her brother was marrying the wrong girl, who was in love with her cousin, Abhimanyu. What worried him was the footnote. She said someone was stalking her and she was afraid. He had to go.

Ekalavya started for Hastinapura early in the morning. The forest was drier than he could ever remember. He was worried as he rode over the rocky beds of the dry mountain streams. Why was his
manasaputri
Lakshmana afraid? His horse became restless. It raised its head and sniffed the air, ears pointed ahead. Something had stirred in the bush ahead, perhaps a wild boar. Nothing was more dangerous than standing in the way of a charging boar. Ekalavya prodded his horse to move sideways and alighted behind a tree.

The bush ahead shook and then fell silent again. Ekalavya cautiously took his bow from his shoulder and placed an arrow. A man suddenly appeared to his right, walking straight towards the bush. Fool! Could he not read the signs of the forest? The stranger was carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows. He wore a sword at his waist. But would he have the time to use the weapons? Perhaps he was an out-of-work soldier, thought the Nishada, fed up with fools from the cities wandering around in the forest as if the jungle was a picnic spot. It was one of the worst droughts in living memory and the beasts were desperate for food and water.

Ekalavya wanted to cry out a warning but that might have provoked the wild boar to charge. The bush stirred once more and the stranger stopped in his tracks. The boar charged with a grunt and Ekalavya let go his arrow. He was sure his arrow had found its mark from the squeal of the boar but that fool had to be pushed away from the beast’s path. Wild boars were ferocious creatures. Even if he had hit his mark, the boar would still charge before succumbing. Ekalavya screamed to the stranger to move away and rushed to pull the man off the path. Then he saw the boar lying dead at the stranger’s feet.

“Fool! What are you gaping at? But for my arrow, your intestines would be lying on the earth now.”

The man stared at the Nishada, then knelt on the ground and turned the boar over. Ekalavya was shocked. He had expected to see his arrow embedded in the boar’s throat, instead, there were two – a hair’s breadth apart. Who had shot the second arrow? Who could shoot that well?

“Shooting dead beasts and then putting on airs, Kirata?” The man asked, pulling out his arrow from the still body of the beast.

Arjuna! No wonder Ekalavya had not even see him shoot. But how dared he come into his forest lands and then abuse him? “Have some gratitude, Pandava. If not for my arrow...”

“The day Arjuna has to depend on a Kirata to save him from a small beast is the day he should die,” Arjuna said with disdain as he wiped the arrowhead in the grass. “Kirata, take your arrow and begone. You may even take the boar I shot as a reward for your labour.”

“Apologize for those words, or die!” Ekalavya hissed, his sword pressing hard against Arjuna’s neck.

With one swift movement Arjuna pierced the Nishada’s foot with the arrow tip he was holding. Ekalavya yelled in pain. Arjuna stepped away, his bow gleaming in his hands, his eyes mocking the Nishada, daring him to fight.

Ekalavya gritted his teeth to ward off the pain and cursed Arjuna. His left foot was bleeding but that was not going to stop him. He would have preferred this encounter to have taken place in front of all the nobles and great men who had treated him like an irksome insect. Over two decades of rivalry had to be settled today. Arjuna had not recognized him, Ekalavya thought with a bitter smile. But he would tell him before he killed him. By Shiva, he was going to finish the arrogant Pandava today! Ekalavya put his sword down and picked up his bow. He stood poised to meet Arjuna.

Before he could blink, an arrow swished past his throat. “The next shot will not be so merciful,” Arjuna told him.

Ekalavya replied with three arrows in succession. The first broke Arjuna’s bow, and the other two pierced each of Arjuna’s shoulders. “The next one is for your black heart,” the Nishada mocked.

Arjuna pulled the arrows out and threw them to the earth. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the Nishada. Ekalavya flung his bow down and grabbed his sword. ‘Gods of the forests, be my witness,’ he whispered and charged at Arjuna.

The swords clashed with great force, each man determined to kill his opponent. Both men fought in deadly silence but the trees around them rang with agitated bird cries. Sparks flew from their swords and the parched grass beneath their feet began to smoke.

It was difficult holding the sword with four fingers. Ekalavya’s ghost thumb hurt but he would not give up. Not to Arjuna. That burning smell. Ekalavya knew what was coming. Soon the dry scrub would be crackling with fire. He had to settle this quickly; a moment’s loss of concentration would end his life. His horse neighed in fear as a tree fell with a loud crash. Unmindful, the two warriors fought on. The heat became unbearable. Thick smoke enveloped them and they were soon choking and coughing for breath.

In a quirk of fate, Arjuna stumbled on a dry root and fell on his back. Ekalavya kicked away Arjuna’s sword and placed a foot on his chest. It was over. He raised the sword high over his head with both hands. But Arjuna needed to know who had defeated him before he died.