Abhaya, page 11
“Bhrata, if I were insecure, do you think I would have told you the truth?” Krishna raised a brow. He glanced back at the western horizon and cracked the whip gently. “Polygamy is point-blank unfair, Bhrata. But then, so is pitying women.”
“So! My little sister has achieved a new high in her knowledge about social dynamics.”
“Stop that,” nudged Subhadra. “Let us approach this from the top. When the ones making social constructs, the rulers and the rishis, are too lazy to make proactive changes, the ones implementing them—the commoners and even small-time lords—tend to turn fundamentalist. They tend to think that women are their property and it can’t get worse than that. But the ones opposing their fundamentalism make the mistake of feeling that women are abalas and need protection. And they can’t go more wrong.” She paused, looking for a response in his face. Seeing him nod, she continued, “Each approach has its horrible consequences. In polygamy, if a man favours one wife over the others, the other women pass their frustrations on to the next generation and homes turn into battlefields. Those who think patronisingly about women lose their ability to see women as partners and mistake them for a burden. To change the construct, one needs to see this world as a whole and not from chauvinistic or feministic perspectives. It is this balance that makes us prevail over adversity. Push women to the edge and face the brunt of underhanded scheming, infidelity, rebellion in various shades that marks the end of any balance in society.” Laughing to herself on her long speech, she added, “Your wives, by the grace of Goddess Gauri, haven’t yet reached that stage.”
“Go on, say that I am the last person who should be talking about polygamy and proactive social change.”
“If I begin to give in to your baits, I would not be your sister, Bhrata,” Subhadra sighed. “But if you run to the rescue of every girl who sends you suicide letters, you will not have it easy.” Krishna opened his mouth but, before he could get a word out, Subhadra mimicked him to perfection. “Got it. I shall tell the next maiden who writes to me to go and die. I shall visit her funeral.”
“I shall tell the next person who asks my counsel over any sociopolitical issue to instead take your advice. My bhagini surpasses me!” When his smile faded, Subhadra saw a different light in his eyes. “Isn’t it like a bunch of entangled threads?”
Subhadra sighed, reaching out to a closet fashioned in the wall of the chariot where she had placed raw mangoes to combat the discomfort of the journey. “Polygamy is just one among innumerable knots. The rot is much deeper, Bhrata.” She closed her eyes, savouring the tangy taste. “Bharatavarsha has reached that unfortunate state where every small proposition for change sends ripples of hostility across the classes of people. The ones responsible for bringing about change—the rishis—cannot do it themselves without the cooperation of the rulers. The rulers don’t or cannot enforce change if they see it as a threat to their power. The commoners, driven by fear of the unknown, are not open to experimenting with change. The few who rebel are put down in no time ... where do you start unravelling this, Bhrata?”
“The change that you ask for, Subhadra, is not a doctrine or a decree that can be implemented overnight. Change is inspired by the individual’s internal will to adapt and not by rebellion spurred by momentary dissent. And, yes, you got it right. Fear is what stops us from questioning and exploring new shores. Fear was the reason why the idea of our exodus from Mathura to Dwaraka was frowned upon by some of our elders. They preferred to die at the hands of Jarasandha rather than explore a chance to survive. You were too...”
“I remember. I was young but I remember everything. Every single word you had to hear, Bhrata. The very people who called you a god, a deliverer and a boon turned on you and said you were inauspicious, a curse upon the tribe. I was young but my heart burned at the hypocrisy, at the sheer lack of their readiness to take on responsibility. Then I saw you working for their safety, regardless of the unpredictable swing between praise and ridicule.” When Krishna gazed into her eyes, he saw the years of camaraderie and the undying faith she had vested in him. His hand instinctively rose to caress her face. In the glow that appeared in her eyes, Krishna felt renewed vigour himself.
“Hypocrisy, lack of responsibility—these are big words, Subhadra. We only need to accept that everyone is driven by their needs. Once he sees the greater good as his own need and not a favour to the world, the world inevitably becomes a better place. Beliefs are not stagnant, Subhadra. They change. So do the people who rest their faith in those beliefs. Some are guided by their materialistic ends, some driven by the need to secure a better life for their children, some influenced by the sheer logic of the change that is proposed and yet others inspired by the strength of truth. People do welcome change. But then we need to cure their fear and instil faith. Once their fear is dispelled and faith restored, it is they who drive us towards the change and not the other way round.”
And they need someone to keep faith in them regardless of how they receive him. Someone like you, Bhrata.
“Can we hope that the new empire of the unified Bharatavarsha will restore people’s faith and dispel their fears?”
“We can if we begin by reposing the same faith on someone who trusted us before.” Krishna pointed to the fortress which was visible in the distance. Subhadra smiled and nodded.
“I was never against trusting the king of Anagha or his daughter. And the princess, I think, is smart enough to realise the risks when we give her the necessary clues, isn’t she?”
With a nod, Krishna turned the chariot in the direction of the fort of Anagha. The momentary twinkle that flashed across his eye made Subhadra wonder if there was more to it than the trust he was talking about.
Chapter Sixteen
Gomantaka
The touch of cold metal on his neck brought Vikrama’s weary sleep to an end. His instincts drove his hand to his sword even as he opened his eyes. It wasn’t there! The metal drove into the skin of his chin and he realised that his attacker was using his sword against him. The sword prodded him up to a sitting position. He felt the heavy breath of his attacker to his left. He lifted his arms, signalling surrender and attempted to turn left to get a look at his attacker. The tip of the sword immediately pierced his chin deeper, preventing him from turning further.
“Don’t I deserve to know who dared to steal my blade and use it against me?”
“Not unless you blurt out who you are and who sent you here!”
Vikrama’s brows went up when he heard the voice. A woman! A sudden stillness pervaded his chest and he found himself holding his breath. He had to fight the urge to look towards the owner of the voice.
“And if I say that is my own business and concerns none else?”
“If trespassing into our lands is indeed your business…” She stopped as she sensed her captive being unusually still for someone taken by surprise. She let the sword complete the sentence by drawing blood at his chin. She expected a gasp but got a chuckle instead.
“Afraid of strangers, are you?” he asked, provocatively. The question earned him a kick at his side. It was painful but allowed him to gauge her position. The blade on his neck shifted at her momentary loss of balance and, in that instant, he rolled over and kicked her other leg out from under her.
She let out a shrill cry at the unexpected move. She managed to retain her balance, though at a cost of stepping back by a yard or two, and she looked at him warily with renewed respect for his agility. She saw Vikrama rise to his feet and take a step forward in a probable bid to retrieve his weapon. His gaze met hers and the sparkle in his eyes was telling.
Vikrama took another step forward and all thoughts of attack vanished from his mind when he saw her eyes. Her pupils were a shade between that of the bark of the tree and the hue of a cloud about to burst. A voice inside his head told him he was being incredibly foolish to be deliberating on the shade of her eyes when he should be trying to retrieve his weapon but he took another step forward, regardless. What he saw in her eyes made him think that her hostility had dropped. Perhaps she thought that his bid to demand his weapon back was fair. Perhaps she was impressed at his not running away at the first opportunity. He was not a trespasser and he needed to fear no one. Vikrama wished that he could communicate that but words failed him.
A drop of blood dripped from his chin. Her eyes, he thought, showed concern. She threw his sword to the ground and, in the instant that he retrieved it, she had drawn out her blade.
“I don’t desire what isn’t mine! But…” She brandished her blade, forbidding him from taking any further steps forward.
“I don’t desire to duel with ... you either,” Vikrama replied, realising in his pause that he had no clue how to address her. “But in our lands, we would welcome a weary traveller with drink, and food and less...” He wanted to say “hostility” but said, “…scepticism.” He saw her frown, but her blade descended to her side. “I don’t mean any harm. I am here on a quest.”
“For diamonds?” she asked, her frown deepening. “Forget about them, unless...”
“I don’t seek diamonds. I am looking for someone,” Vikrama replied.
She seemed convinced and sheathed her sword, and he followed suit.
“They call me Shyeni.”
“The name ‘Kalabhashini’ would do more justice to your voice,” Vikrama said, feeling overpowered again as Shyeni nodded, accepting the compliment with grace. “And they call me...” He was about to blurt out his name when caution stopped him. “Manikandhara,” he said, surprising himself. It was the name his mother had given him before he had been adopted by Dharmasena.
“Are you a Naga?” Shyeni asked as the serpent tattoo on his wrists caught her attention.
He nodded briefly. A smile lit her face, making his heart beat faster. She lifted her hand and he saw the eagle tattoo on her wrist.
“Garuda!” Vikrama gasped. He noticed the feathery upholstery over the garment that hung from her shoulders and ran down the length of her frame up to her knees.
“We Garudas eat Nagas for breakfast!” She grinned.
“Well, I might taste better if I am fed first!” Vikrama said, surprised at himself. Humour was not exactly his forte.
Shyeni giggled. Vikrama went weak at the knees. “Follow me.” She pointed to the mountain that lay to the west, covered with vegetation which, Vikrama guessed, housed her tribe. “Do you prefer an easier but longer route to my settlement, or a shorter but steeper route?” She regarded him and considered. “Shorter one, then,” she decided before he could answer. “Follow me.”
Vikrama followed her. The route up the Gomantaka Mountain was as challenging as she had promised.
“So, you did not come for diamonds?” she asked. “Almost every foreigner we encounter comes in search of those.”
“I don’t desire what is not mine,” Vikrama replied, returning the words she had used.
She looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. “There is no need to desire what is already yours. And if you don’t desire what is not, do you have any desire left?” She chuckled and walked on, her hips swaying gracefully.
They came to a narrow ridge up an almost vertical portion of the mountain. Vikrama stopped short, gaping as Shyeni effortlessly scaled the surface that offered little in the way of footholds. He couldn’t help being amazed at her sure-footedness. Noticing his hesitation, she pointed at another ridge hidden by a dried bush. “Right leg there first. Then hold on to the bush, place your left leg on this other ridge.”
Vikrama nodded and followed her instructions. He had almost made it to the top when his foot slipped. He was about to fall but Shyeni caught his arm in a firm grip. Slowly, but surely, she pulled him over. On safe ground, they collapsed, gasping for breath. Vikrama’s eyes fell upon her heaving breasts and his heart skipped a beat. He averted his eyes in confusion. When he looked back into her eyes, he saw not an accusation but the reciprocation of his desire. Time seemed to stop and they were lost to the world until the shrill cries of a bird brought their wordless conversation to an abrupt end.
“What sort of a Naga are you? The one who is born in a palace?” Shyeni said, trying to return to casual conversation.
“You can say I was brought up in one.”
“Explains your ‘expertise’ in scaling heights. Thank the Divine Eagle Suparna I could pull you up!” Shyeni rose to her feet. “We’ll take the longer route. I doubt you can make it even half the way up on this one. And you can tell me everything about your quest. A story to keep us company on the long trek.”
Chapter Seventeen
Anagha
“We had visitors in your absence,” Abhaya informed Dharmasena as she sat down for her evening meal with him. “The Yadava leader and his sister ... well, the queen, or should I say, the second queen ... oh, let it be! I can never figure out the hierarchical positions in her marital family.”
Dharmasena nodded, raising the first fistful of rice in a mechanical prayer before pushing the rice ball into his mouth. He seemed tired, having just returned from his trip to Anarta and Prabhasa.
“Something is being planned in the north,” she added, mulling over the incident that had happened a couple of days ago as she ate. “Strange behaviour on their part. Something was unusual.”
“Why? What happened?” Dharmasena looked visibly tired from his travel. But it did not stop him from staying alert and listening.
“I think a conquest. Let me explain. They halted here for the night. As I had almost skipped my evening meal, I sat down with them. And Subhadra, out of nowhere, started to talk about my marriage!”
“For one of her younger brothers-in-law? She probably sees a potential ally in you, another daughter from Saurashtra. Wait, what kind of conquest are we talking about exactly?”
“Janaka!” Abhaya protested. “Yes, she did hint at one of her younger brothers-in-law and...” she hesitated, recalling the scene.
At Subhadra’s question, her eyes had instinctively sought Krishna’s. She had seen in them the same resistance she felt within herself. It had made her glad. She shook off the memory and continued, “Then, in his usual air, Krish—Vaasudeva only commented that Subhadra was just seeking an ally in me in her conquest of her marital home! Janaka, the way he emphasised the word ‘conquest’, I felt he was trying to convey something. And then he added in the same flow of jest that a wise princess would consider it a good opportunity to step into the most powerful imperial family of Bharatavarsha and then corrected himself to say the soon-to-be most powerful imperial family. Janaka, at that moment, from the corner of my eye, I saw Subhadra’s hand clutch his knee! It’s clear she didn’t want him to say more. What do you make of it—‘the soon-to-be most powerful imperial family’?”
“For the moment, I am inclined to think about the offer if she really meant it. Provided you agree?” Dharmasena replied, a renewed sense of excitement overtaking him.
“I don’t think there is any offer.” Abhaya shook her head. “Then I changed the topic to Mitravinda and casually asked why Subhadra was taking her brother along to her marital home. I asked if all his brides had come together and decided to throw him out of the home.”
“You used those exact words?”
“He did not mind.”
“But, Vatse…”
“Janaka, he simply shrugged and said what else could be done if the home turned into a war zone. He added that one might need to flee at least for the time being. Janaka, that was unusual! He is usually very defensive about his wives. Even when confronted with a humorous jibe, he never says a derisive word about them!”
“Abhaya, are we really discussing his marital affairs? What is the matter with you?”
“Listen to me! He again stressed on ‘war zone’. After the meal, I offered Subhadra my room. He interrupted and said my room looks like a ‘battlefield’. So they insisted on staying in the guest quarters.”
“That wasn’t very polite,” Dharmasena said. “But then, you take inappropriate liberties with Vaasudeva, too.”
“Didn’t you notice ‘war zone’ and ‘battlefield’?” Abhaya said impatiently. “And one last thing. I accompanied them to the guest house to make sure it was comfortable. Subhadra is with child now. Both Subhadra and I were practically asleep on our feet. And Vaasudeva chose that moment to launch into a sermon on diplomacy.”
Thank Mahakala, at least, the conversation turned sensible and civil as against the pointless banter, Dharmasena sighed to himself.
“So this topic was between choosing friends and allies. According to him, there are times where choosing between enemies is more important than choosing between allies.” Dharmasena looked up from his food. “At times, when allies cannot be reached out to, or when allies are not in a position to extend help, he said it is advisable to revisit the priorities between rivals instead. A worthy enemy could perhaps save one from a bad ally, he added, and then he stopped abruptly.”
Dharmasena was paying attention now. “You know, now that I think of it, I got an odd feeling in Anarta, too. That something was up ... what do you make of Vaasudeva’s words?”
“If I’m connecting the dots right...” Abhaya looked intently at her father, “that is, if Subhadra’s husband and his brothers, the Pandavas, are planning a conquest, the land might turn into a war zone. Krishna Vaasudeva wanted to alert us about the allies we are banking on coming to our aid if Avanti attacks us. We know it is a distant possibility but a possibility for sure…” she said, then continued thoughtfully, “Now, coming to revisiting our allies and enemies. Our trade allies, the Yadavas, the Trigartas, the Matsyas, the kings of Kunti and Anarta will not be able to honour their pledge of military support if they are called upon to participate in the proposed conquest. Avanti understandably would rally against the Pandavas. That is the time we might need to make a choice. I think he hinted for us to make peace with Avanti for the time being even if it meant a temporary rivalry with him.”
