“Hurry,” Shakuni said, “search for the Pandavas and tell them at the right moment what Jayadratha did to Draupadi.”
The man bowed and walked out. Shakuni watched him walk past the main gate of the palace and smiled. He had rolled the dice and could hardly wait for the result.
***
“Shall I wring his neck, brother?” Bhima asked Yudhishtra as he tightened his grip on Jayadratha’s neck.
Jayadratha’s eyes bulged and his fingers clawed at the mud in which he lay face downward. Bhima towered over him, his knees pressing painfully into Jayadratha’s back.
Draupadi laughed scornfully. “Oh, not so quickly.”
Yudhishtra stood looking at the face of the man who had dared grab Draupadi’s hands while she was bathing. When a distraught tribal had told them, gasping and panting, that Jayadratha had abducted Draupadi, he had not believed it. Jayadratha was their cousin Sushala’s husband; whatever their differences with Suyodhana, all the Pandavas were fond of their little sister. Bhima had not waited for permission before rushing off with his other brothers. Yudhishtra had been forced to join them. He did not want to face Draupadi’s accusations in case the tribal’s story was true.
“I am sorry. Let me go now...” Jayadratha pleaded, every sign of arrogance and hauteur having long fled.
Draupadi laughed. The shrill sound frightened the birds in the trees. Why did she laugh in that way, wondered Yudhishtra, as he remembered the proud but demure Princess they had taken home to Kunti. Jayadratha groaned again as Bhima pressed on his spine.
“It is better we cut off his head.” Arjuna pulled out his sword and walked over to where Jayadratha lay grovelling in the mud.
“No. Free him,” Yudhishtra said quietly, knowing the others would vociferously disagree with him.
“Free him?” Draupadi’s eyebrows arched in mocking surprise. “Oh, that is how the men of the Kuru dynasty deal with men who misbehave with their women. I had forgotten that it runs in the family. Pitamaha abducted women for...”
“Enough!” Yudhishtra said, his voice like iron. “Not another word from you about Pitamaha or anyone else, Draupadi!”
“Of course, I am a woman and not allowed to speak. They strip me in the Sabha and you all quote scriptures and remain silent. This villain tries to abduct me and you let him go free because he is your dear cousin’s husband. But I should feel honoured to be the bride of the Kurus, who consider women Goddesses.”
“I do not care what Yudhishtra says, Draupadi. If you ask me to, I will wring this man’s neck.” Bhima rubbed Jayadratha’s face in the mud. The King of Sindh uttered a miserable cry.
“Let him go, Bhima. You are the only one who understands me. I have nothing against Sushala, she is a sweet girl. But I pity her having this creature as her husband,” Draupadi said in disgust.
Her husbands looked at each other in surprise. Bhima’s hands eased and Jayadratha groaned.
“It is generous of you to forgive him,” said Yudhishtra.
“Forgive him? I will never forgive him or any man who dares harm a woman just because nature has furnished him with brute force. I free this man as a gift to Sushala and her son. But the world should know what he has done. If Sushala still wants him as her husband after knowing about his deed, may God bless her. I know she will eventually forgive him, as all women do. That is the greatest tragedy. I, too, have done so, as have many other women. If only we would learn that to forgive is also to encourage such acts… No, we will not let this brute go free. His son should grow up knowing his father’s shame, so that every time he looks at a woman, he does not see an object of desire.”
“Draupadi, he has asked forgiveness...”
Draupadi cut off Yudhishtra, her hand upraised. “Shave his head, Bhima, leaving only five hairs. Tie him up and make him sit back to front on a donkey. Then parade him through the villages, so that the whole world knows of his misdeed.”
“No, we either kill him or free him. Insulting him and then letting him go will turn him into a dangerous foe,” Arjuna said.
“I have five great warriors as husbands. Why should I fear a man who squirms like a worm in Bhima’s hands?” Draupadi asked, her eyes blazing with contempt.
All her husbands, except Yudhishtra, laughed. He walked away, shaking his head and clutching his prayer beads.
“Let the saint go and pray. Arjuna, give me your sword. Our dear brother-in-law here will not mind if I take off some skin with his hair,” Bhima said. His brothers laughed in delight.
Later, the ludicrous procession with Jayadratha tied to a donkey, his face blackened and head shaved except for five strands of hair, wound through the villages. While howling urchins danced around them, the villagers beat drums to announce the Donkey King.
***
Shakuni looked at the messenger and ran a smug hand down his grey beard. Then he sent the messenger to inform Suyodhana of how his brother-in-law had been treated by the Pandavas.
***
On the way to Gandhari’s chamber, Shakuni whispered into Suyodhana’s ear, “Remember, the Pandavas have taken the law into their own hands. They had no right to punish Jayadratha. They should have appealed to you or to the King.”
Suyodhana had rushed back to Hastinapura, cutting short his southern journey. How could Jayadratha have committed such folly? Suyodhana only had Shakuni’s version to rely on – that Jayadratha had made some lewd remarks in bad taste, about Draupadi. But that did not warrant the punishment he had received at the Pandavas’ hands. Shakuni insisted that the rumours about Jayadratha trying to abduct Draupadi were part of the Pandavas’ plan to malign Jayadratha and prove Suyodhana to be an incompetent ruler.
When Suyodhana entered the royal chamber, his father was standing with his back to him and Gandhari was seated at a window. Suyodhana motioned to his uncle to remain silent and Shakuni moved to a corner.
“Suyodhana, is my brother with you?” Gandhari asked
“No, mother,” replied her son after an instant’s hesitation.
Gandhari turned to where Shakuni stood. “Shakuni, leave us.” She waited until she was sure her brother had walked out and then turned to Suyodhana. “Your lies are not convincing enough, my son. There is some hope for us still.”
“Why did you summon me?” Suyodhana growled.
“Are you mad to order your Aunt Kunti out of Vidhura’s old home?”
“Why is my mother so concerned about my aunt?”
“Answer me, son.”
“We are evacuating all the houses in that street. Yuyutsu is building a new market there,” Suyodhana replied curtly.
Gandhari pressed her lips together. The sudden cawing of a crow at the window was irksome. “It is not wise to unnecessarily provoke, my son. You will reinstate them with an order from the King. Is it clear, my son?” Gandhari’s words were as hard as rock.
“I am sick of this drama, mother. Why must I be generous to the Pandavas when they have done such heinous things to my brother-in-law?”
“Who is this honourable brother-in-law you speak of? The same one who molested a daughter-in-law of Hastinapura?” asked Gandhari, her voice like ice.
“The Pandavas cannot take the law into their own hands and do whatever they please. They should have come to me for justice. I would have punished Jayadratha. Who are they to act in such a high handed manner?”
“Yudhishtra was kind enough to spare Jayadratha’s life. I am sure that somewhere in this sordid affair lurks my brother’s hand. My sons, Kunti’s sons, everyone has become a puppet in his hands. Send him back to Gandhara, Sire!”
“What makes you think he can manipulate me, mother? I pounded Gandhara to dust. My uncle is a changed man. But, by taking the law into their own hands, the Pandavas have thrown me a challenge. I ordered Aunt Kunti out because I decided not to show my cousins any mercy. Enough is enough!”
“But must you go out of your way to provoke them? Just find them during their period of exile and force another twelve years of
roaming in the wilderness upon them.”
“They get away with so much in the name of dharma...” Suyodhana said bitterly.
“Who are you trying to fool, Suyodhana? Neither of you is wholly right. Both of you have made grave errors of judgement.”
“Mother, I am fighting for my rights. I have just returned from the South, where I made sweeping changes. My people love me because I am a just ruler,” argued Suyodhana, his eyes blazing with passion.
“So you think, my son. This year is crucial. You must find the Pandavas at any cost. Keep an eye on Krishna. Shakuni is no match for him. Krishna will create deliberate provocations to throw you off their path. And you were foolish to go South and then cause mayhem there.”
“I did what was right, mother. They were treating my subjects like filthy pigs.”
“A great and noble act indeed! Tell me, son, which side will the Confederate armies fight on if there is war?”
“The people will stand by me.”
“A good politician knows when to act noble and when to be ruthless. Politics is the art of using others to achieve your goals.”
What his mother said made cold-blooded sense, yet how could he have done nothing on seeing the plight of people in the South? He missed his idealistic youth, when he had done as he had pleased. But his mother was right. Having held power for twelve years, it was now difficult to share it with his cousins.
“Son!” Dhritarashtra called. Suyodhana looked at his father in surprise. The tone of his voice was unusually stern. “Listen to what your mother says. Let Kunti remain where she is. And about Jayadratha, forget the entire episode. My spies tell me he was lucky to escape with his life. Had I known the entire story before he left Hastinapura in such a hurry with my daughter and grandson, I would have ordered him to be thrown into the dungeons. You have a lot to learn, Suyodhana. You do not know who to trust and who not to. I will give you some good advice, if you are willing to listen to this blind, old man. Get Jayadratha here and punish him in exemplary fashion. Do not worry what Sushala will think. She is my daughter and she will understand. That is the only way to redeem yourself in the eyes of the public. I could have done it while you were away, but I wanted you to do it and show everyone that you do the right thing without caring whether the culprit is a relative, friend, or anyone else.”
“But father, I don’t think he did...”
“Suyodhana, I used to regret they did not let me be King before Pandu’s death. But I knew the answer on the day you tried to disrobe Draupadi so dishonourably. Your mother wanted me to order your arrest and punishment; to strip Karna of his kingship. I felt smug that I was the only man there who tried to correct a wrong. I argued with your mother that Pandu’s gambling son deserved nothing better; that it was a small price for the insults I had suffered for having been born blind. She told me then that she was not speaking of dharma or taking a high moral stand, but pure strategy. Had I done what she suggested, I would have established my position as the most righteous king in the history of the Kuru clan. But I did not; not because she was wrong, your mother is rarely wrong; I declined because it would have been devastating for you, my son. There is no one dearer to me than you, Suyodhana, not even the throne of Hastinapura. Now I want you to achieve what I could not. My life is spent but you can be the greatest ruler in Bharatavarsha. Do what I say, son. Bring Jayadratha here.”
“Father, what you say may be right. I know it is what I should do. But I cannot. Jayadratha is my friend. Even if he had done wrong, is it not my duty to stand by him?”
“You are the Crown Prince of Hastinapura, son. For a King there are no permanent friends or foes,” Dhritarashtra said, tapping his stick on the floor in impatience.
“Forgive me, father. I will not seek revenge against the Pandavas for what they have done to Jayadratha, but I cannot punish him. He stood by me when it mattered. Without his three thousand men, Karna could not have conquered the South. I cannot be ungrateful.”
“Your son is heedless; worse, he is an emotional fool,” snapped Gandhari from her seat by the window. “His friends will be his ruin. It is now too late to act against Jayadratha while Suyodhana’s entire trip to the South has been a disaster.”
“Mother, I have done what no ruler before has done for the people. They adore me. They have built a temple in my name.”
“You will realise your mistake one day, but I am afraid it will be too late then,” Gandhari sighed. “Read this.” She extended a palm leaf towards Suyodhana. It had Balarama’s royal seal.
When he had finished reading, Suyodhana said, “But Kumara is a boy, just sixteen.”
“What does that have to do with anything? I have heard Balarama’s daughter, Valsala, is a beauty. She would be the perfect wife for our Lakshmana Kumara.”
“But mother, have you thought...”
“Suyodhana, it won’t hurt you to have Balarama on your side through this alliance.”
“Have the children returned from Dwaraka?”
“Not yet. Your boy is not as innocent as he seems. He has succeeded in wooing Balarama’s daughter and impressing the Yadavas.”
“Has Krishna given his consent to the alliance? He hates me.”
“As usual, you underestimate Krishna, my son. He has no permanent enemies or friends,” Gandhari replied with a smile.
“Let me think it over. I must discuss it with Bhanu.” Suyodhana bowed to his parents and turned to leave the chamber.
“And revoke the order to evict Kunti,” Gandhari said to her son’s rigid back. Suyodhana reluctantly nodded, knowing his mother would know he had agreed despite her bandaged eyes.
“Valsala and Lakshmana Kumara would make a great pair,” Shakuni suggested, limping behind Suyodhana.
“How do you know about the proposal?” Suyodhana asked, irritated.
“Oh, I met the messenger in the palace garden and he told me. What has happened, nephew? It seems you do not trust your old uncle. You think I had my ear to the keyhole?”
Suyodhana said nothing. He had to talk to Bhanumati. He already knew she would agree to whatever their son wanted.
“Suyodhana, people are making fun of us. The Pandavas have insulted your brother-in-law. If we do nothing it would be like accepting Jayadratha’s guilt,” said Shakuni, hoping to catch the Prince’s attention.
“We will hunt for them and blow their cover. Good night.” Suyodhana shut the door to his chamber.
Shakuni stood staring at the closed door, his brain in turmoil. Once again his sister had outwitted him. He had expected the Jayadratha episode to flare up into a conflict, but it had fizzled out tamely. He had underestimated the King; his brother-in-law looked and acted like a fool, but it was a deceptive veneer, Shakuni thought with grudging respect. He knew the embers were still simmering; at the right time, he would blow on them. For now he had to accept defeat. But a chaotic Indian marriage offered wide possibilities, with throngs of people milling around. It would also make it easier for him to visit his old friend, Durjaya, in his dungeon. If he could do something to ignite the rivalry between the cousins, it would be a bonus. The dice would roll his way again.
*****
26 SON OF GOD
DWARAKA WAS FULL OF GAIETY. It was the first night of Navaratri. Krishna would hold people spellbound with his magical flute and discourse for the next nine nights. Women of all ages fought to dance with the handsome Prince. He bestowed his charm upon all, making every woman feel beautiful, each one special. He was the eternal romantic, the consummate lover. They were enchanting nights, and Princess Lakshmana felt she had arrived in a world of magic.
Subhadra arrived to inquire if Lakshmana had eaten anything. Aunt Subhadra was so beautiful, sighed the young girl. She wondered if there was any truth to the persistent rumour that her father and Subhadra had once been lovers. She could hardly blame him. Sometimes even she wished she was Subhadra’s daughter instead of her own stern mother’s. She knew she should quell such thoughts. Lakshmana missed her father,
but even more than him she missed the one man who always treated her like the Princess she was.
Whenever she had been sad and unhappy, Ekalavya had always been there to console and cheer her. He would bow before her without caring who saw or heard him call her his Little Princess, to the point of making her blush. Their special friendship had started when she was three years old. The Nishada’s presence kept many wagging tongues busy but her father had never cared about anyone’s lineage, only their abilities. Lakshmana did not even know what lineage meant. Almost twelve years ago Ekalavya had given her his word that he would allow no harm to befall her, ever. She knew they were not playful words said to amuse a little girl, but a promise made with pride, honour and love.
The only thing they disagreed about was Lord Krishna. Like most girls her age, Lakshmana loved to hear the romantic stories the bards spun about the handsome Yadava’s childhood. Lord Krishna was an enigma. When Aunt Subhadra had introduced Lakshmana to her brother, the first thought that struck Lakshmana was how handsome he was. His smile lit up the whole world, yet she felt he was smiling just for her. He was kind and considerate and called her ‘daughter’ while blessing her. Despite herself, Suyodhana’s daughter felt she was falling in love with him, like so many hapless women before her. Aunt Subhadra later remarked that her brother had that effect on most women, irrespective of age.
Lakshmana’s meeting with Krishna’s elder brother had gone according to her expectations. Lord Balarama was just like her father had said – kind and affable. She had formed an awkward friendship with Valsala, Balarama’s daughter, who was the same age as her. They chatted about everything under the sun while Abhimanyu tried teaching Kumara archery. Later, the four of them would lie in the garden and stare up at the star-filled sky. Kumara would sing the poems he had composed and Lakshmana would float to a world of romance. Abhimanyu and Valsala often giggled when the Prince sang, and that made her boil with resentment against them both.
This evening was no different. The four of them were sitting on the lawn watching the arrangements for Navaratri. Abhimanyu and Valsala sat together and whispered, while Kumara sang. When he finished, there was unexpected applause from near them. “Shabash, son!” Krishna stood beaming at them. They had not seen him coming. Valsala and Abhimanyu broke into fits of laughter. Kumara hung his head as if Krishna had caught him doing something shameful. Krishna put an arm around Kumara’s shoulders and whispered something into his ear. Kumara’s face lit up with joy. Then Lord Krishna pulled out his flute from his waistband and began playing. Kumara closed his eyes in rapture; his beautiful baritone voice rose above the music of the flute in an arc of melody which soared and soared.