Pregnant King, The (6 page)

What made him most happy was the look of approval in his mother’s eyes. ‘What do you think mother?’ he asked when he released an arrow that struck its mark, the eye of a fish suspended from the roof.

‘Good, very good,’ she said. ‘But can you do it looking at its reflection in a vat of oil placed below as Arjuna did to win the hand of the princess of Panchala?’

‘Is it true that he shares his wife with his brothers?’

The news about the decision of the five Pandava princes to make Draupadi, Shikhandi’s younger sister, their common wife had spread like wildfire across Ilavrita. The women said, ‘How lucky she is.’ The men
said, ‘She is a whore.’ Shilavati recognized it as a political move. Pandu’s widow, Kunti, in her foresight had ensured that the woman who could have pulled her sons apart by marrying one had ended up uniting them by marrying all. Sure enough, soon after their marriage to Draupadi, the five Pandavas were able to force their blind uncle and their hundred cousins to give them their half of the inheritance on which they built the kingdom of Indra-prastha. Draupadi had apparently told Kunti that if she wanted her to be woman enough to satisfy her five sons, her five sons had to be men enough to make her queen of their rightful inheritance.

‘Yes, his mother said that he should share everything with his brothers and Arjuna obeyed. Such a worthy son,’ said Shilavati, her voice full of admiration.

Yuvanashva struggled harder with the bow. Not to be as good as Arjuna but to be as good as his mother wanted.

‘The prince should be trained to yoke wild bulls too,’ said the Kshatriya elders. ‘The king of Kosala gave his daughter to the man who yoked seven wild bulls.’

‘Since when did Kshatriyas yoke bulls? That is the vocation of Vaishyas.’ said Shilavati.

‘Maybe the king of Kosala wanted a Kshatriya who was raised amongst cowherds to marry his daughter,’ said Mandavya.

Shilavati knew the council was referring to Krishna, a young Yadava warrior who was the talk of all Ilavrita.

The Yadavas were a confederacy of tribes who lived around Mathura, south of Vallabhi. Like the Turuvasus and the Kurus, they descended from Ila and Yayati. But they had no king. They preferred being ruled by a
council of worthy elders. But the ambitious Kamsa, with the backing of his father-in-law, the mighty king of Magadha, audaciously disbanded the Yadava ruling council, declared himself the dictator of Mathura and killed all those who threatened his power. Krishna was Kamsa’s sister’s son. He was raised in secret amongst cowherds to protect him from his murderous maternal uncle. He had returned to Mathura a grown man, rallied his kinsmen behind him, openly challenged Kamsa’s authority, killed him with his bare hands and restored power to the Yadava ruling council. This had angered the king of Magadha who sent his vast army to destroy Mathura. The Yadavas under the leadership of Krishna fought back. After surviving seventeen attacks, the king of Magadha managed to raze the city of Mathura to the ground but the Yadavas refused to submit. They followed Krishna to the west across mountains and deserts and finally across the sea to establish a new home on the island of Dwaraka, which was now a flourishing trading port. The story of the Yadava uprising under Krishna’s leadership had inspired bards to compose songs that were now on the lips of every young man and woman in the land.

Krishna was related to the Kuru clan. Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas, was his father’s sister. To protect the interests of his cousins, Krishna had helped the Pandavas build the city of Indra-prastha on their half of the inheritance. The Pandavas, in turn, helped Krishna avenge the destruction of Mathura and kill the king of Magadha. Krishna arranged to crown Yudhishtira, eldest of the Pandava brothers, king in the presence of all the kings of Ila-vrita.

It hurt Shilavati terribly when the invitation to
Yudhishtira’s coronation was addressed to her young son. It reminded her that while everyone in Vallabhi treated her as a worthy ruler, for the rest of Ila-vrita she was just a king’s widow. Inauspicious.

It was when Yuvanashva was thirteen and whiskers of manhood first appeared on his face that Mandavya felt it was time he be crowned king. He advised Shilavati to conduct the ceremony at the earliest. ‘But he is incomplete. Let us get him a wife first,’ said Shilavati.

That was true. In Ila-vrita, men were considered incomplete unless they had a wife by their side. Without her, said the Rishis, they have no right to worldly pleasures. For she is the field of the next generation, foundation of a home. She is Lakshmi, container of pleasure, prosperity and power, who transforms a man into Vishnu—lord, king, controller, master of the world. For Yuvanashva to be Raja, upholder of dharma in Vallabhi, he needed to have a wife by his side.

But Shilavati was in no hurry to find a daughter-in-law. No girl was good enough to marry her son. ‘I will not compromise. The soil on which my son’s seed will sprout has to be worthy of my household.’

It was then that the Pitrs swept into her life.

They slipped into her dreams in the form of crows. Hundreds of crows. No, thousands. Descending on Vallabhi, perching themselves on rooftops and windows and flagpoles and gateways. Everywhere she looked
she saw crows. In the gardens, in the inner courtyards, next to sacred ponds, in royal orchards. Covering the domes of every shrine, big and small, including Ileshwara Mahadev, blocking out the sky, the sun, the clouds. Cawing without a pause. A deafening sound. It was the shriek of the dead demanding they be heard from across the Vaitarni. They did not let Shilavati sleep. They reminded her of her duty as the matriarch of the royal household. ‘Don’t delay his marriage, Shilavati. If your son, your only son, does not bear sons, we will be trapped forever in the land of the dead. And it will be all your fault. You were stingy with your womb. Let only one of us pass. Now make your son our father. Or else we are doomed. Help us, Shilavati. Raft the Turuvasu forefathers across Vaitarni to the shores of a new life. You are our only hope.’

But getting a wife in Ila-vrita was not easy, especially for a prince. Men were invited by kings to demonstrate their worthiness in a tournament. The worthy ones were garlanded by the daughters. The unworthy ones had to resort to abducting girls or buying them. Such practices were permitted in Ila-vrita. For more important than the will of a woman was the desire of the ancestor.

Shilavati could have ordered her Kshatriyas to abduct a princess for him as Bhisma had abducted the princesses of Kashi for Vichitra-virya, his weakling of a brother. Or, with all the wealth at her disposal, she could have
easily bought him a wife as Bhisma had bought Madri for Vichitra-virya’s son, Pandu, when his first wife, Kunti, showed no signs of pregnancy after marriage. But Shilavati liked the idea of her son being chosen. She told Yuvanashva, ‘Only Rakshasas abduct wives. Only Asuras buy them. I want you to be Gandharva, irresistible to your wife, as Vishnu is to Lakshmi.’

When Yuvanashva was fourteen, ready to step out of his teacher’s shadow, news reached Vallabhi that the king of Udra was organizing a swayamvara for his youngest daughter, the princess Simantini. Invitations had been sent to many kingdoms, including Panchala, Indra-prastha, Hastina-puri and Dwaraka. This made Shilavati anxious.

The king of Udra was powerful. That made his daughter a coveted prize for all the royal families of Ila-vrita. Shikhandi of Panchala would go to Udra as would the Pandavas of Indra-prastha and the Kauravas of Hastina-puri. The Yadavas of Dwaraka would send a representative too, maybe Krishna himself.

Shilavati wanted the princess of Udra for Vallabhi. Not to forge a political alliance but because she wanted a daughter-in-law, a wife for her son, a mother for her grandsons. A royal field that would nurture the royal seed.

Shilavati was relieved to learn the swayamvara did not involve an archery contest. Yuvanashva was a good archer, but no match for Arjuna. Simantini was to choose a husband from amongst the assembled kings and princes. Yuvanashva was a handsome boy, brown as the earth after the first rain, with sharp features and thick long hair, long limbs, lean muscular body, a broad chest, very much like his father and his grandfather.
‘But he is not as handsome as Krishna,’ said the bards, who had seen Krishna and fallen in love with him.

Shilavati told her son, ‘All other princes will ride into Udra on their chariots. But you will ride in on an elephant. The largest bull elephant in Vallabhi. It will be decorated with a silver head-jewel, silver anklets and a silver chain round its neck. Two Brahmanas will sit behind you, one holding a parasol and another holding a pair of yak-tail fly whisks, waving it from side to side. Walking beside the elephant will be Kshatriya warriors on chariots, each holding the royal banner of Vallabhi. Leading you into the city will be our royal herald and musicians playing the flute enchanting everyone in the city. Round your neck will gleam a necklace of gold and sapphire. When you cross the gates of the city, the king of Udra will look out of his window and tell his queen, “There comes the crown prince of Vallabhi. If our daughter chooses him, she will be his chief queen and we will have a king as our son-in-law. Krishna is no king. Shikhandi not even a man. Arjuna shares his kingdom and his wife with his brothers. And the Kauravas? Their father clings to a crown that is rightfully Pandu’s. Let us encourage our daughter to select Yuvanashva instead.”’ Shilavati paused. She saw her son’s eyes gleaming with excitement. ‘Sometimes Gandharvas have to be clever to get the Apsara,’ she said.

‘And for the bridal gift, I will give her a game of dice painted on cloth,’ said Yuvanashva.

‘What? A game of dice!’ asked Shilavati, taken by surprise. Then she smiled indulgently, realizing how little her son knew about women. ‘I think she would prefer a necklace of pearls or gem-studded armlets.’

Yuvanashva looked into his mother’s eyes. ‘No mother. No woman really wants that. A woman wants to know she is loved and appreciated and honoured. There is no greater sorrow for a woman, or for a man, to sit bejewelled knowing that nobody loves them or cares for them or appreciates them or honors them. A string of pearls or a gem-studded nose-ring will indicate my current fortune. But fortune does not last forever. Tomorrow, I may lose my kingdom, as Nala lost his, as Rama lost his, as Harishchandra lost his. My wife must continue to walk beside me, on my left side, close to my heart, whether I sit on the throne or walk in the forest. I want the princess of Udra to know that I invite her to reside in my heart and enjoy with me the game of life. What better way to express it than with a game of dice, each throw of the die filled with the uncertainty of Yama’s account book, each movement of the coin brimming with the assurance of Kama’s arrow.’

‘Where did you learn all this?’ said Shilavati, feeling proud of her son.

‘I hear everything you say, mother, when I sit behind you in the audience chamber. The bards whisper that you married my father to rule Vallabhi but I know you married him because you loved him. I watch you gaze at the bow he gave you. That look, mother, is what I would like my wife to have when she looks upon me.’

Shilavati felt a lump in her throat. She saw her husband smiling on the other side of the Vaitarni. Before him was the game of dice rolled out. He was waiting for her to make the next move.

Yuvanashva followed his mother’s advice. His grand entrance impressed the king. The princess loved his gift. Instructed by her father, directed by her heart,
Simantini accepted Yuvanashva as her Gandharva and placed a garland of lotus flowers round his neck.

Neither the Pandavas nor the Kauravas, neither Krishna nor Shikhandi nor his brother, Dhristadhyumna, attended Simantini’s swayamvara. Shilavati wondered why.

Her spies gave her the reason. They were busy playing dice with their cousins and gambling away their fortune. ‘They gambled even their wife away,’ said the bards.

‘And no one stopped them?’ asked Shilavati in disbelief.

‘No, the elders felt everything was being done within the letter of the law. The Kauravas were not content to win everything the Pandavas possessed. They went on to humiliate the sons of Kunti. They dragged Draupadi by her hair from the inner chambers and tried to disrobe her in public.’