AJAYA - RISE OF KALI (Book 2)
“Before the rains, war will come and then what will happen to my money? It is all the more important that I secure my money now. Do you want me to broker a deal with the Pandavas?” Yuyutsu asked.
“You will be paid after the war.”
“Hmm, how sure you are of victory! But I am not so confident, I want my money now!”
“You scoundrel! Have you no sense of gratitude or obligation to your country?” Suyodhana trembled with frustration.
“I am only following my dharma. My duty is to trade,” Yuyutsu said, rubbing his thumb with his index finger. Overall, Suyodhana was a bad bet since Krishna was supporting the Pandavas. A message from Parashurama was lying safe in his waistband. By siding with the Pandavas, he was taking a huge risk, but Parashurama had promised him the better deal. If he won this gamble, he would not be trading in cloth and spices, but in countries and kingdoms.
“Are you not ashamed to make such demands at this critical time?” Suyodhana towered over Yuyutsu, his fists clenched.
“I am beyond such emotions. I do not concern myself about results. Detachment is my mantra, brother.” Yuyutsu emphasized the last word and smiled.
“Do not dare address me as your brother.”
“Are you afraid, Prince? Do not fret. I am not after your throne. Pay me well, pay me regularly, and I will govern the country for you.”
Suyodhana punched Yuyutsu in the face. The fat merchant fell in a heap at his feet. But Yuyutsu only laughed and got back up. With provocative slowness, he wiped the blood from his nose.
“Don’t stare at me like I am vermin. It is I who own this palace and most of this country, my dear brother.”
“Get out, before I kill you!” Suyodhana said in a menacing voice.
“Yudhishtra is a more business-friendly ruler than you, brother.”
“You snake!” Suyodhana advanced threateningly upon Yuyutsu.
“Money can buy all things, brother, even bravery, fame, and your kingdom and its little people.”
Suyodhana shouted for the guards to escort Yuyutsu out. His half-brother chuckled. Scores of Yuyutsu’s own soldiers appeared, surrounding him in a protective ring.
“Always looking for a fight, my little brother? You have no respect for businessmen. I am now going to the Pandava side. Send word whenever you want me. I am always available to the highest bidder.”
Yuyutsu walked out from another business meeting. In one stroke, Suyodhana’s armed strength had halved, while the Pandavas’ had doubled. He should have been more careful with his words. To hell with it, this was a war he would fight alone if required, he told himself. When he looked around, he was alone. The cavernous oppressiveness of the hall that had seen many intrigues and battles was suffocating. Suyodhana no longer felt sure of the future.
*****
45 WINDS OF WAR
“KRIPI,” DRONA CALLED OUT AS HE REACHED HOME. The news from the Sabha had shaken him to the core. He was certain there would now be a war. He would be compelled to choose between his son and his beloved disciple, Arjuna. If only he could make Aswathama see reason and get him to shift allegiance.
Kripi opened the door. Seeing his grave, troubled face, she put a hand on his arm, but Drona merely pushed her away with a grunt and walked to his puja room. His sacred thread lay sweat-soaked across his chest. His mind seethed like an ocean in a storm. He prostrated himself before the idol of Shiva. ‘Lord of the Universe, show me the right path; show me my dharma. Should I fight beside my son or Arjuna?’
If he stood by Aswathama, Drona knew he would have to give his support to Duryodhana, whom he had always despised. If he took Arjuna’s side, he would have to fight his own son. ‘What is my dharma? Have I not been the most pure of Brahmins? Have I not followed all the rituals and conducted all the ceremonial sacrifices expected of a Brahmin of the highest lineage?’ Then why was the Lord placing such an impossible choice before him?
Drona heard his son enter the house and mother and son speak in whispers. He could feel his son’s eyes burning into his back. Then he heard Aswathama slam shut the door of his room. Drona raised his head, looked at the idol of Shiva, and gasped! Ekalavya! The untouchable was in his prayer room! How was it possible when the Nishada was dead? Hadn’t Krishna said he had killed Ekalavya? Then how was the Nishada standing where Shiva’s idol should have been?
Drona’s throat felt parched, his hands shivered. “Mahadeva, are you testing me? Are you saying Ekalavya is immortal...that there is life beyond death? Forgive this ignorant Brahmin.” Drona’s lips trembled as he mumbled the Lord’s name repeatedly. Gradually peace descended on him like a gentle balm. Drona’s decision was made. He knew the side he would be on in the war. He owed it to the Nishada, whose future he had stolen. He owed it to his son. It was his dharma.
There was the sound of excited knocking at the door. Dhaumya’s voice called to him from the street. Reluctantly, Drona rose from his prostrate position and wiped the dust from his forehead. When he opened the door, Dhaumya entered, grinning like a split watermelon. Drona offered the priest a seat and then sat down on the veranda swing. To buy time, he opened his paan box, took out two leaves and started filling them with lime and betel nut.
“Guru Drona, war is now certain,” Dhaumya began.
Drona nodded in silence, offering his visitor a paan before pushing the other into a corner of his own mouth. He pulled the spittoon closer and then said, “I was at the Sabha when Krishna spoke.”
“It is the best thing that could have happened,” Dhaumya said, clearly delighted. He looked at the Guru in unabashed glee and then frowned when he saw Drona’s lack of enthusiasm. “Duryodhana will be finished...”
“Hmm...”
“All the Kauravas will die.”
“Hmm...”
“The Suta will die.”
“Hmm...”
“Krishna’s Narayana Sena will support the Pandavas. The Southern Confederate will declare their independence and join the Pandava cause.” Dhaumya counted them off on his fingers.
“Perhaps.” Drona looked into the distance, at the waters of the shimmering river. A crow sat cawing outside.
“Dharma will be restored,” Dhaumya said with finality.
“Hmm...”
“Of course, you will lead the Pandava army. Arjuna will be delighted to have you as Commander-in-Chief,” Dhaumya gushed, trying to keep his voice calm.
Drona finished chewing his paan and then brought his gaze back to the priest’s face. “What makes you think I will?”
“But, of course! You are the greatest of all Brahmin warriors and will naturally stand on the side of dharma.” Utter conviction rang in Dhaumya’s rather high-pitched voice.
“You are right. I will stand on the side of dharma,” Drona nodded, picking up another betel leaf from his box.
Dhaumya looked at the Guru. Something in his words made him pause. He ask hesitantly, “But you will act as Commander-in-Chief of the Pandava armies, won’t you?”
“I am a soldier of dharma. I will fight in the Kaurava army.” Drona pushed the swing gently. Its creaking as it swayed back and forth accentuated the shocked silence. A lizard clicked tchak tchak tchak from the thatched roof above. Drona watched Dhaumya’s expression turn from shock to disbelief to anger. He spat vermilion juice into the spittoon. Kripi, who had come in with a few pots of buttermilk, stood frozen in surprise.
“Guru, you are joking at my expense?” Dhaumya finally asked.
“I have never been more serious, Guru Dhaumya.”
“Are you mad? You are a Brahmin; you must support dharma.”
“I am indeed a Brahmin and I know my dharma. I will do everything in my power to see the Pandavas defeated,” Drona stated.
“You will be alone on the Kaurava side. You will have to fight Bhishma,” Dhaumya said desperately, trying to suppress the rising panic and anger in his voice.
“So you think,” Drona answered calmly. “Bhishma will lead the Kaurava army. Another paan, Guru Dhaumya?”
“You are making a grave mistake, Drona. Your love for your son has made you blind. You will regret this all your life.”
“Perh