Abhaya, page 9
Krishna exchanged a brief smile with Mitra.
“You will hear from me,” Abhaya parted, her hands coming together.
“After everything, if you maintain that you love the prince of Avanti so dearly, then … ah!” Krishna grimaced in mock pain and laughed as Abhaya punched him on the arm.
Embracing Mitra again, Abhaya signalled her guards to bring her carriage. The sun had reached the western skies and the shadows had started to lengthen. Abhaya halted, seeing her shadow merge with Krishna’s and then climbed into her carriage.
Mitra looked at Krishna’s arms which bore the marks of Abhaya’s nails where she had held them. As soon as they were alone, she shook her head. “She loves you, Krishna.”
“Did she tell you so?” Krishna chuckled.
“You love her, too.”
Krishna’s brows came together as he looked into her eyes with a plea that made her giggle. “Mitra,” He raised his hands, in apparent helplessness. “What in Mahadeva’s name can make you believe that my heart can only think of you?”
“Stop right there! You need to come up with a better line.” She laughed. “Four brides, Krishna! You can’t keep using the same words with all of us!”
“And you still think I dare to love a fifth?”
“Fifth,” Mitra sighed, shrugging. It’s better to welcome a fifth and wait a day more rather than have you lost in her … Her thoughts were interrupted as Krishna waved his hand in front of her face. She shook her head and walked towards their chariot. “Help her, Krishna. I don’t want her to fall into my brother’s hands!”
Chapter Twelve
Anagha
“Janaka, what is the status of our granaries?”
Dharmasena looked up. Abhaya’s voice lacked her usual restraint. It seemed evident even to the treasurer, who promised to return with the details in a day.
“Should we alert our soldiers to sharpen the war weapons? Or maybe conduct a competition so they keep fit?”
Dharmasena smiled and nodded, keeping aside the leaves containing details about new traders from the western shores who had entered the city.
“Janaka, what is the price we paid Avanti for the swords and javelins?”
“We aren’t going to war with Avanti, Vatse,” Dharmasena reassured her but he knew it would take more than that to calm Abhaya. It was more difficult to pacify her when she put up a facade of being calm. He rose from his seat and went to her. “You did not tell me everything about your trip to Prabhasa.” It was Abhaya’s turn to look up as she had, in fact, recounted every single detail of her conversation with Krishna and Mitravinda. Dharmasena waved away his own question, sitting down beside her. “Abhaya, do you trust me?”
“No, I don’t.”
Dharmasena had to laugh. He was reminded of the many occasions during Abhaya’s childhood when she had given unexpected or impudent responses to what she deemed “silly” questions. “Understandable. So, whom do you trust?”
“Anuvinda.” The answer earned her a whack on her head and she turned back towards the leaves she was examining with the frown that he felt was an imitation of his. Just as he thought that the mood was returning to normal, he felt the tug on his arm. He had to sit back as she put her hands around him. “I trust him to do something soon that does not bode well for Anagha. You are a king, Janaka. I don’t want to become your weakness.”
He knew that she was too brave to cry but when her frame shook with a tearless sob, he cleared his throat. “You think I am growing too old to protect those I hold dear? So old that I need to leave one to save the other?” The words, spoken with his characteristic resolve, came out sounding authoritative and final. He sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped the company of women so early in life.”
“Who is stopping you now?” She chuckled and her father joined in.
“Your brother. Who will look at me when he is around in the palace? Here he comes! Vikrama, so you’ve been to the temple?” he asked, looking at the bowl of payasanna in his hands which made it obvious.
But looking at his face, the father and daughter realised that he was not in a mood to join the banter.
“Some strangers are camping outside the temple of Anagheshwari,” he said, extending the bowl towards them. “Shaktas of the Vamachara order.”
“I saw them in the past week too,” Abhaya said, taking a handful of the sweet. “Anything wrong?”
“What can be right about them, Abhaya?” Vikrama said. “They are the Shaktas.”
“Now, Vikrama, I thought you’ve grown up enough to realise that they aren’t some monsters who took your mother away,” Dharmasena remarked.
“It is not just me, Janaka. Even the acharya is uncomfortable about them. He said they left pieces of burnt meat scattered in the courtyard of the temple after they were done with their…” Vikrama paused, trying to come up with an appropriate word, “…worship. You would not approve of it if I called their ritual an abomination.”
“Certainly not,” Abhaya replied, taking note of the disgust in his voice. “Who but the Supreme Goddess or God or whatever can certify whose rituals are right or wrong, Bhrata?”
“Let us not get into a debate about religion, Abhaya. I am neither interested nor qualified,” Vikrama said.
Dharmasena smiled at the admission. One endearing fact about Vikrama was that he could never be provoked into arguments over topics he did not know much about, and never hesitated to admit his ignorance. He was open and transparent. But the same thing, Dharmasena sadly noted, could be his undoing if and when Vikrama became the king. Abhaya, on the other hand, was skilled in the nuances of diplomacy. Vikrama’s skills lay in swordplay and loyalty to the cause. Such a man, Dharmasena noted, made a fine general but not a fine ruler.
“It is not deniable that Acharya Katyayana would have been shocked seeing the courtyard strewn with pieces of burnt meat,” Abhaya conceded.
“The problem is not just that, Bhagini,” Vikrama continued and looked at Dharmasena. “Janaka, they have a woman with them and their rituals consist of maithuna too.”
“Sometimes, I wonder what stops the world from embracing Vamachara.” Abhaya laughed but restrained herself when she caught sight of Dharmasena’s disapproving look.
“Katyayana’s daughter is of your age, actually a year or two younger than you…” Vikrama pointed out and then cut himself off, not wanting to continue the conversation. “Janaka, let it not be that in being hospitable to the rest of the world, we end up making our own unhappy.”
“The foundation of Anagha rests on the principle of hospitability, Vikrama,” Dharmasena said, looking from one to the other. “At the same time, Abhaya, we cannot expect a girl of fifteen to stay unperturbed seeing a ritual like maithuna in the open. Send a word to the priest that Pingala Katyayani—isn’t that her name?—can stay under your care until the Shaktas leave.” Abhaya nodded and Vikrama cast his eyes down. “Vikrama, do take good rest now. I will need you both in the coming weeks when we negotiate new trade agreements with our neighbours. The Shaktas can wait till then.”
“No, Janaka, hospitality is meant for guests and for those who mean well. Not for these leeches.” Vikrama’s eyes signalled a revolt that Dharmasena had never seen. “I repeat, they cannot be allowed to wander about those premises, not around our home!”
“Vikrama!” Dharmasena rose to his feet, shaking Abhaya’s restraining arm off. “You shall not interfere with this!”
“Forgive me, Janaka, I might be forced to disobey you this time.” Vikrama turned and left.
Abhaya tried to follow him and was stopped by her father. To her relief, she saw Vikrama moving in the direction of his room.
“Let it go, Abhaya,” Dharmasena spoke in a calmer voice.
“That is just not like him!” Abhaya exclaimed.
“When it concerns Shaktas, he is not himself. I never thought that his hatred was so fresh in his heart.”
“Why does he hate them, Janaka?”
“Well, I guess it’s time for you to know something important, Vatse,” Dharmasena replied, motioning her to take her seat. “You know that Vikrama is your adopted brother.”
“And I remember you prohibiting me from ever using the word ‘adopted’ too.”
“That was directed more at the women in the palace who were obstructing you two bonding,” Dharmasena replied. “He saved you from a cobra when you were three. Let me admit, I lost my senses when I saw the reptile so close to you. He was just a boy of thirteen but, by the grace of Anagheshwari, a Naga by birth. He had learnt the art of controlling serpents as a boy. His mother left him in my care the day you were born. She left him to join these Vamachara Shaktas. His disgust towards them is understandable.”
Abhaya’s mouth fell open at the revelation. “Janaka, I was told that he was an orphan,” she said. Instinctively, she glanced at the door, then turned back. “But why?”
“Kadambari. That was her name. She had an abusive husband. I am not aware of much, to be frank. But the day she came to me, I was shocked at her state. I had a good mind to knock some sense into that man … I forget his name. Does not matter now, anyway. I heard he jumped off a cliff unable to bear the ‘insult’ of his wife deserting him. Not anyone’s loss but I can only imagine what Vikrama must have witnessed in his tender years.”
Abhaya nodded, pursing her lips.
“I thought his mother joining the Shaktas was something that he would adjust to and forget about. Well, now you know why he said what he did, so go easy on him when he says extreme things about the Shakta order. He does not mean what he says with even half the intensity. Ideally, I would have been happy for him to just forget everything about this past but we don’t have control over one’s memory. The least we can do is to not agitate him. Abhaya, I can say with all my heart that a son born of me would not have been more loyal than Vikrama is. You would not have gotten a better brother.”
Abhaya smiled and held his hand. “You know that I would not have loved a son born of you more than I love Vikrama, Janaka.”
“In addition to Katyayana’s daughter, I should ask you to keep a watch on him too. Maybe divert his attention with something else. Mahakala forbid, if he does something rash, I would hate myself for having to…”
“I shall not let it come to that.” Abhaya squeezed his arm. “Trust me, Janaka.”
“Pingala,” Abhaya called out to the absent-minded girl staring out of the window. “Don’t you like it here?” It was four days since Pingala had come to stay with her and the girl had remained largely quiet. “Are you missing your father?”
“I do like it here,” Pingala replied. “But I am just used to being alone.”
“You find it difficult among so many people in the palace?” Abhaya asked, rising from her seat and moving closer to her. She was greeted with a silent shake of the head and an inscrutable expression.
“I found a new friend among those who came to the temple,” Pingala said after a long pause. “Father does not like them and that is why he sent me to stay with you. He does not like me talking to them.”
Abhaya was at a loss for words. Pingala had been a playmate during her childhood but Abhaya’s military training and involvement with royal affairs had led to her drifting away from her childhood friends.
“Am I not your friend, Pingala?” she asked, stroking the younger girl’s cheek.
“You are the princess,” Pingala replied. “You cannot remain a friend forever.”
“Says who?”
“My father.”
“Acharya Katyayana is wrong, totally wrong,” Abhaya retorted. “When did he tell you this?”
“He’s been saying it for many years,” Pingala frowned in reply. “Every time I asked about calling you to the temple, he kept saying that you don’t waste your time playing games. He used to tell me to study texts and learn the scriptures.”
“You don’t like to study?”
Pingala shook her head.
“I would have liked to study them all. Tell me about what you read.” Abhaya pulled Pingala towards a seat.
“Princess, will you tell my father that those people are nice?” Pingala asked, dodging Abhaya’s efforts to start a conversation.
“I will,” Abhaya said, with a smile. “But on two conditions. Call me Bhagini, as you used to. And help me perform a vrata.”
“Which one?”
Abhaya twisted her curls, thinking. The legends, stories and philosophy of the scriptures had always interested her but never the details of rituals. This was just a ruse to keep Pingala’s attention away from the Shakta group till her father could settle matters with them. How was she supposed to know how many vratas even existed or to choose among them?
“I know!” Pingala smiled. “You want to pray to Gauri for a good bridegroom.”
Abhaya sank back against her seat. “Is there anything which can help me escape wedding a bad groom, instead?”
Pingala shook her head. “The one I know requires you to survive on a single meal for three days. Can you?”
“Not a problem,” Abhaya said, with some hesitation.
“Then how will you train with the sword? If you feel weak, your brother is not going to spare you!” Pingala’s eyes were almost misty.
Abhaya laughed. “What do you think he will do to me?”
“I don’t know. I saw him scold you so rudely for dropping the shield today morning,” Pingala recalled what she had seen in the morning’s training session.
“That?” Abhaya chuckled. “Not his fault; my grip on the shield was clumsy.”
“Couldn’t he have been nicer? Why scold you in front of the other guards for that?”
“Pingala,” Abhaya raised Pingala’s chin to look at her in the eye. “That is how any weapons’ training is done. My hand got cut because I dropped the shield.”
“I saw that and he showed no mercy though you were in pain,” Pingala frowned. “I could not bear to see it anymore so I just left.”
“And that’s why you missed seeing how caring Vikrama was when he tended to my wound.” Abhaya smiled, showing the bandage around her hand. “Pingala, our people, especially those who teach us, need to be stern at times. And that is because they cannot bear to see us falter. If I had made the same mistake on the battlefield, I would have faced worse consequences than a mere cut.”
Pingala nodded and turned away. “You want to perform the Gauri Puja right?”
“Yes, whatever you know.”
“I shall check with the kitchen maids if they have everything that is needed.” Pingala rose to her feet. “You know, Bhagini, the Shaktas … their rituals will not need you to fast. In fact, they do not need to marry anyone too. They are just so…”
“Interesting,” Abhaya completed, forcing a smile.
Pingala nodded and left for the kitchen. Abhaya stared at her retreating figure and fell into a reverie.
She’s feeling suffocated with Katyayana’s stern regimes and is warming up towards those Shaktas. Restricting her any further would only make her more rebellious.
For the first time, Abhaya did not know what to do.
Chapter Thirteen
Dharmasena stood on the terrace overlooking Anagha. He had a clear view of the heart of the city bustling with trade activity. The royal residence, which was the centre of the city, was flanked by two wings. The left wing of the structure had a partly roofed corridor and led to the entrance to the courtroom. The corridor also served as an informal meeting place for traders from Bharatavarsha and those from across the western seas to meet and greet each other before drawing up plans for long-term trade partnerships. The corridor then extended into the city, serving as a marketplace and ended at the inner fort wall. The right wing was mostly similar in terms of the structure except, that in place of the market, it had guest houses meant for traders and royal emissaries. All this, Dharmasena noted nostalgically, was not achieved in a day. But what was built over two generations could be laid to waste in mere months, sometimes even less.
Dharmasena firmly believed, though, that no threat existed without its solution. Not long before, Anagha had been faced with the threat of a hostile neighbour which commanded a superior army and a treasury ten times richer than hers. But a solution had existed to that problem—a friendship that had started years ago when he had given a night’s respite to a tired and weary tribe that had migrated from the northern plains of Bharatavarsha to the shores of Saurashtra. New confederacies sprung up along the shores. Prosperity was galvanised with increased trade activity. Newer neighbours had mutually beneficial trade proposals. Foodgrains from the southern borders of Kunti, weapons and horses from Trigarta and a new trade agreement with Anarta, in addition to a mutual military agreement with Dwaraka—all this had miraculously fallen in place within two months.
The lord of the “city of sinless” sighed with satisfaction, squared his shoulders and read the scroll in his hand one last time before it was to be sent:
To the Esteemed King Jayasena, the Lord of Avanti, the abode of Lord Mahakala
The address to King Jayasena could not have been more ironic; Anuvinda was the true “Lord of Avanti” in all practical sense. Dharmasena shook his head and continued reading:
Lord Mahakala has been gracious in bestowing us with your friendship. It was indeed an honour to receive your proposal, asking for my daughter’s hand for your illustrious heir, Anuvinda.
Dharmasena grunted. Illustrious, indeed! It took quite an effort to be diplomatic.
But I deeply regret that our princess, Abhaya Dhaarmaseni, has not given her consent to the union. As you well know, a wedding that does not enjoy the consent of the bride is not blessed by the gods. I know that you, the one favoured by the God of the gods, Mahakala, will not let this small matter come in the way of our long friendship. I pray to Mahakala that the blessed prince of Avanti finds an illustrious spouse who will become the pride of your holy kingdom.
