Abhaya, page 17
Shyeni picked up a bowl of locally grown millets cooked in broth and handed it over to her brother. Vainateya promptly scooped out a ball of the paste and brought it to her mouth. To his surprise, Shyeni refused the offering, helping herself to a smaller bowl, and sat down beside him.
“What is the matter, Bhagini?”
Shyeni shook her head and swallowed the broth in her bowl at one go, as though it were a bitter medicine, not her favourite broth.
Vainateya tried to take her hand but she turned away. “Why should you go, Bhrata?” she demanded.
“Our friend might need us, Shyeni.”
“Did he send for you, asking for help?”
Vainateya shook his head. “He did not yet ask for our help, Bhagini. But, knowing him, he will need us sooner or later. We are his friends, not just political allies. What is the point of friendship if we cannot anticipate the needs of our friends before they ask us? Your brother, Shyeni, does not need to be anyone’s political ally. But for friendship, he can give his life.”
“Bhrata, I am not against helping a dear friend,” Shyeni protested. “But this is the first time you are embarking on this long a journey, leaving our Gomantaka. That too for a conquest for which our help was not formally sought. Besides, this conquest is not even led by our friend, the Yadava leader.”
“We have nothing to do with the conquest, Shyeni.” The lord of the Garudas smiled, gulping the last mouthful of the broth and reaching out for the pitcher of wine on the table.
“Why else would you want to leave our home then?”
“Our home.” Vainateya became solemn. “We owe this home to Krishna Vaasudeva. But for him, our mountain abode would have been destroyed long ago.”
“I don’t disagree, Bhrata. But…”
Vainateya shook his head. “No, this is not about returning a favour. Favours are done and sought between political allies. This is something which we don’t indulge in, unlike those in the plains. This is about us, Shyeni, about how we view the world around us and make ourselves a deserving part of humanity. Every time a friend faces a crisis, we have a choice to either treat his crisis as our own or to turn away, like those ushtra birds that bury their heads in the sand. We worship the divine eagle Suparna and not that lowly desert bird, Shyeni. I want to be there for my dear friend even before he feels my need. I want to be there by his side before my name comes to his mind. I want to hear him exclaim, ‘Vainateya, how did you even guess I was just thinking of you!’ and reply with pride that our beloved God Suparna did not become the chosen vehicle of the God of gods Narayana for nothing. I want to be able to say ‘we, the eagle worshippers, know where we are needed, Krishna’.”
Shyeni giggled at her brother’s dramatic speech, then turned serious. “So, by being available to those who might need us even before they call out to us, we find a way to fulfilment?”
“Why do you repeat it like it’s something new, Shyeni? Wasn’t this what we learnt as infants listening to mother’s lullabies, as toddlers hearing the stories of our grandparents, as budding members of our tribe undergoing our initiation as eagle worshippers?”
Shyeni shook her head and stared into the horizon. “If there was someone who was dear to me and I chose to let him go alone on his path because…”
“If you let him go, then he was not as dear to you as … wait, are you talking about that Naga? Manikandhara?”
Shyeni’s squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together.
Vainateya sighed. “No Garuda could impress you so much as to be allowed to sit by your side to drink wine but this man is actually making you angry even after he’s gone?”
“Why couldn’t he stay here with us?” Shyeni blurted out, loud enough to startle Vainateya.
“He was here on a quest, Shyeni. He was searching for his lost mother. He said that his home faced a crisis … What happened between you two, Bhagini?”
When he heard what had taken place, Vainateya smiled sadly to himself. This was the first time he had seen his sister fuss over a man and already her beliefs were clashing with the priorities of the one she loved. His little sister had been doted upon and pampered by the whole village. It fell to him to place the harsh realities of life before her.
“Shyeni, he had his priorities. Is it fair to expect him to forget what he came for and stay with you? Even if he did that, would you be comfortable with the fact that he could forget his dear ones so easily? Wouldn’t you question how he would treat you in the future?”
Shyeni sighed. Vainateya patted her cheek. There were many things he could tell her but this was something she needed to figure out by herself. Knowing Shyeni, he also knew that planting a thought in her mind was enough and she was very capable of deciding her course of action.
“Shyeni, I dearly want you to retain your freedom but a love for freedom is not the same as fear of commitment.”
Shyeni nodded as the king of Garudas rose to his feet.
“Suparna protect us, mind, body and spirit!”
“Suparna protect us, mind, body and spirit!”
Shyeni sat on the cliff, perched on her favourite boulder, watching the departing Garuda regiment until they disappeared from view. She stared into the horizon for a long time. Vainateya’s decision to stand by his friend made her proud. It also made her thoughtful. Vikrama had not left her thoughts ever since he had parted from her.
“Why couldn’t he tell me he could use my help? I could have gone with him to search for his mother too. I could have helped him find that lost girl.” Talking aloud made her feel less lonely.
Did I fail my Garuda spirit?
Vikrama’s shocked eyes haunted her. His shock at that time had been beyond her comprehension but now she understood.
Was I scared of commitment as bhrata implied?
The very thought of a new home, new relationships and a strange environment had made her reject any thought of their marriage outrightly. But why could she not take him off her mind? Darkness had set in but Shyeni still could not find the will to return home. She felt that Vainateya had wanted to advise her about what she should do next but he had desisted from doing so. He had always let her make her own decisions.
Will Vikrama nurse a bitter feeling about Garudas in general? Will he think that we are a tribe of betrayers?
The thought made her more uncomfortable than ever. She owed it to her tribe to set things right. Not because the world’s opinion mattered to her but because a good man had had to leave the land of Garudas with a broken heart.
No, it is not even that! It is much more than the reputation of my tribe!
The moon appeared from behind the clouds and she smiled to herself. She had made her decision.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Indraprastha
“Ten years of trade operations at Indraprastha!”
Abhaya was in the hall where the traders’ meeting was to be held that morning, some days after having settled into the city. She had arrived early to confer with Srinayana Sreshti, who had been her father’s confidante in matters of trade. The two were alone in the hall at the moment. She frowned, reading the scroll again.
“Srinayana Sreshti, while it is admirable of the trade guild of Indraprastha to invest in our traders, are you sure that this condition is agreeable to us? Why did you not voice any concern about it earlier?”
“How is that a concern, Devi?” the trader replied with the indulgence of one who had known her since her infancy. “They are investing their wealth in us. They want us close.”
“But for ten years?”
“At a practical level, it is negotiable based on the nature of each trade, Devi. But this is the least they expect to invest in us.”
“What if we choose to leave for Anagha?” Abhaya asked, flipping through the scrolls in her hand to find the one that dealt with violations and termination of the arrangement.
“Then we would have to liquidate the trade and they would have the greater share of the resulting wealth. Their share reduces with each year. At the end of ten years, it comes to half,” Sreshti explained.
Abhaya stared at him. “So if we leave, say, after a year, we leave with practically nothing?”
“It would be unwise to leave after a year, Devi. Two years is the minimum the traders will need to stabilise in the new place. Four years is a realistic period for most trades to become profitable. Some may take longer.”
“But that means that you cannot return to Anagha for the next five years even if the gods favour your trade!” Abhaya spoke more to herself than him.
“This is a trade agreement, Devi,” he smiled. “It is not an irrefutable decree of an emperor. There are negotiations at every stage and terms can be changed as we build a stronger case for ourselves with time.”
“But even then, we don’t see a possibility to wind up and return before a minimum of five years!” Abhaya protested. “Why, Sreshti? Why this servitude to their conditions? We are not their slaves.”
“Nobody thinks we are their slaves, Devi,” Srinayana responded. He opened his mouth to continue but stopped, seeing Abhaya’s disappointment. After an uncomfortable pause, he said, “Devi, allow me to speak frankly. Returning to Anagha in the near future is not high in our list of current priorities.”
“Sreshti!”
“I know this is hard on you, Vatse,” the trader interrupted, resorting to the endearing term, invoking his age and experience. “Call us ungrateful but for us, traders, our loyalty lies with the trade and the king who rules the place where we trade. Not with...”
“Not with the failed royalty who fled a war-torn motherland. Not with the motherland.”
“Vatse, please don’t think that the city of Anagha means nothing to us. But considering our present condition, patriotism cannot be the basis on which we can negotiate terms. Livelihood for our people is what matters the most.”
Abhaya glared at the trader as reason and ideals clashed on the battlefield of her mind.
“Is that the opinion of the other traders too?”
The trader nodded, not meeting her eyes.
Without flexing a single muscle of her jaw, she flipped the scroll. “Fine, so, is there something in here that does bother you and the other traders?”
The rest of the discussion dwelt upon minor specifics of how a middle ground had been reached. Abhaya mostly concurred with Srinayana Sreshti’s opinions, given his three decades of experience in a variety of trades. Casting her final seal, Abhaya rose to her feet and moved towards the door of the hall.
“Devi, the traders of Indraprastha will be here shortly. Are you not presiding over the meeting?”
“Will my presence make a difference when both sides owe their loyalty to the king of Indraprastha?”
“Vatse!”
“Don’t bother consoling me with symbolic positions of nominal authority, Sreshti. I trust your experience shall ensure fair treatment to our traders. Please feel free to reach out to me when you think my presence can make a difference.”
Abhaya returned to her quarters and remained there, consciously avoiding meeting anyone as she feared she would further debase herself with an inappropriate emotional outburst. She sat on a seat close to the window and looked out at the skies. Sunset was still more than an hour away. Her mind could not help dwelling on the way things were spiralling out of control, leading inexorably to the dreaded possibility that her city would become a mere relic of the past.
“Devi!” A male voice at the door drew her attention. “I apologise for the intrusion but is the lord here?”
“Which lord?”
“Er … your husband Vaasudeva?”
“Pardon me, Dwarapala, I never knew I was married.”
The guard brought his hand to his head in confusion and fumbled for words.
“Are you drunk in the middle of the day?” Mrinalini’s harsh voice came from the corridor. She walked in, nodding at Abhaya. “Lord Vasudeva is staying at the emperor’s palace, not here. But who let you into the antahpura in the first place? Get out! Beware of using that damned tongue of yours here again!”
“Pardon me, the emperor wanted to see him and I was in a hurry…” He hurried out with a bow.
Abhaya was annoyed by the guard’s impertinent assumption but she also felt Mrinalini had been needlessly harsh. Mrinalini took out one of the lighter shawls from the closet and draped it on Abhaya’s shoulders, replacing the shawl she had worn for the meeting “Don’t mind him, Devi. He has been a bit lost ever since his wife ran away with some sadhus.”
“I wish people would take the time to think before they spoke,” Abhaya replied, reaching out for the scrolls on the smaller table by her seat. Then, she paused. “Did you say his wife ran away?”
“Yes, Devi. I knew her well. She was working here until a month before you came. But there were these sadhus who caught her fantasy. And one fine day she just disappeared.”
“What kind of sadhus were they?” Abhaya rose to her feet.
Mrinalini halted in the middle of cleaning the huge bronze lamps that hung from the ceiling. She looked at Abhaya in surprise. “I don’t know but why are you so disturbed? Devi, is something wrong?”
“What was her name?”
“Nilambari. We used to call her Nila. She was close even to Devi Subhadra.”
“Can I meet Subhadra right now?”
Before Mrinalini could answer, Abhaya was already on her way to Subhadra’s quarters. It was the first time she was visiting her friend in her private chamber. The female guards knew her and allowed her in with a bow. Abhaya saw Subhadra sitting on the steps of an elevated dais and toying with a collection of wooden toys arrayed in war formation. Sensing a presence, Subhadra turned and smiled when she saw Abhaya. “How was your meeting with the traders?”
“Not as I had expected. But…”
“Why? Is the guild being difficult? I shall personally request Jyeshta bhrata Yudhishtira to intervene if you are dissatisfied.”
“No, no, I don’t seek anyone’s intervention. I have no complaints,” Abhaya said. “But Subhadra ... what is this?” she interrupted herself and pointed to the miniature wooden replicas of elephants, horses, chariots and foot soldiers.
“The Chakravyuha—the wheel formation,” Subhadra answered. “A puzzle that Arjuna keeps me busy with. The red ones are those defending the formation. The yellow ones have to break the formation. He wants me to figure out a way in and out. It is a sort of training on war strategy. I did manage to find a way in but…” Subhadra put her hand on her belly and leaned back against a pillar for support.
“Interesting...” Abhaya studied the formation. On any other occasion, she would have liked to sit with Subhadra and solve the puzzle together. But there was something else on her mind. “Subhadra, I wanted to ask you something. About your former maid Nila.”
“Nilambari? Who told you about her? Is Mrinalini bothering you with unsolicited tales?” Subhadra commented, rising slowly to her feet, supporting her pregnant belly. Abhaya stepped forward to help and Subhadra led her to two chairs on the balcony of her room that looked over River Yamuna.
“No, it’s just that I heard she went away with some sadhus. Who were they?”
“I have no clue. She did tell me that their ways of worship were different and even brought me some meat delicacy that they prepared in a ritual, saying it would be auspicious for my child. But the taste made me nauseous.”
“Were they Shaktas? Who else cooks meat for a ritual these days? We gave it up quite a while back, didn’t we?”
“Could be. Yes, it is hard for those who are used to it to forego meat. But at least it stopped being a part of our rituals, except for some big ones, I guess. Abhaya, what is the matter?” Subhadra frowned, knowing that Abhaya’s interest in this went beyond palace gossip.
Abhaya did not speak for some time and looked up only when Subhadra shook her by the arm. “Subhadra, did this Nila know any crucial information about you? Or about your family? I mean, information which would be valuable to your enemies, or would make your family vulnerable?”
Subhadra stared at her and then smiled. “No. Nila was hardly a spy. The poor woman was just unhappy in her marriage. Her husband is a guard at the emperor’s place. I think she just wanted to leave him.”
“I saw him. He came to my quarters just now, without seeking the permission of the female guard, I’m afraid. And referred to your brother as my husband.”
“What!”
“The great assumption culture of Indraprastha, I believe,” Abhaya retorted, then bit her tongue.
“Well, now you know why Nila left him,” Subhadra laughed. “So don’t worry about her.”
“Well, I was more worried about whom Nila left with. They could be harmful. Do you know that my fortress fell in a night because a Shakta group whisked away the daughter of my family priest? She knew about a secret tunnel and that information was used by the prince of Avanti. I only wanted to warn you.”
Abhaya paused as a maid brought two bronze goblets of a fruit drink and placed them on the low table before them.
Subhadra took Abhaya’s hand in hers. “Thank you, Bhagini. But be rest assured. I am sure she does not know any such crucial secrets about us. She might at worst know some gossip and rumours that would be of no use to any enemy.”
Abhaya sighed and nodded, taking one of the goblets into her hands.
“Speaking of Avanti,” Subhadra continued, “Our conquest has reached its gates. You shall soon hear the news of your enemy’s defeat.”
Abhaya’s nostrils flared and she nodded. “My soldiers could have joined if…”
“Does it make a difference?” Subhadra asked. She cupped her palm under Abhaya’s chin. “Abhaya, I am partly responsible for your miseries. I stopped Bhrata Krishna from telling you about the Rajasuya campaign. He wanted to warn you well in advance.”
“I got all the clues that day when you visited us, Subhadra. It is just that we never anticipated Avanti to act in this underhanded manner.” Abhaya stopped as Subhadra caught her arm.
