Undesired Duty

By Harsh Arora

How would you like to wander around ancient India during the Mahabharata war, witness its unique customs, experience the rigid social structures, and glimpse the remote tribes while helping a young widow? Journey with Siya and experience her many trials as she tries to unravel the mystery of a strange symbol that she hopes will lead to finding her husband’s killer.

Unlike other retelling of mythical stories, the novel Undesired Duty is about how the lives of commoners were affected by the decisions made by the gods, kings and heroes of Mahabharata. The unfolding story is about the people who lived simple lives that caused them to struggle between the duties imposed on them and the desires they longed to fulfill.

Here are a few issues, the novel Undesired Duty, explores from the perspective of commoners who witnessed the Mahabharata war:
-Why Krishna served as a charioteer for Arjun while giving his army to the Kauravs?
-Why Krishna wanted Arjun to fight even though he himself was called a deserter after he had fled the battlefield against Jarasandh?
-Though full of remorse after the Mahabharata war, why did Pandavs wage several battles after the war? In one battle Arjun almost died. Did he learn anything from the Geeta?
-Why Yuyutsu, the only Kaurav brothers to have survived the war, was the real winner of Mahabharata?
-Why Mahatma Gandhi, the messenger of peace was born not far from Krishna’s hometown Dwarka?
-What do the lines and dots in the symbol Swastika may mean?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harsh Arora
• Release date: Feb 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9780991339426

Harsh Arora

Harsh Arora was born and raised in India. He received a B.Tech. from IIT Delhi and a Master’s degree from the University of California at Berkeley. Harsh has written and staged several plays based on Indian mythology. This is his first novel. He has two sons and lives with his wife in Beaverton, Oregon.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

What follows is not history or mythology, it is fiction. Scenes have been constructed, dialogues envisioned and assigned to imaginary characters as well as to the characters from the great epic Mahabharata.

Although most of the Mahabharata story remains true in spirit, certain events and opinions of the lesser known characters have been transposed in the interest of storytelling and the plot.

Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Map of India around the Mahabharata period

1

Siya

The darker it got, the faster everyone seemed to move. Those hiding from the heat of the monsoon sun all day were now outside their homes, finishing the day's chores. On my way back from collecting firewood, I saw Poorak sitting on his porch, wearing his typical white turban and white loincloth, with nothing on his upper body. He was trying to tie leather strips around a dried calabash shell, held between his legs, to make a drum.

Do you know what Raychuk is saying? I asked, as I came close to him with my stack of woods.

Poorak looked at me, smiled, and continued working on the drum. That is how he was—he ignored all distractions whenever he was engrossed in what he thought was important. To get his attention, we had to keep repeating what we needed. Raychuk says he does not want to act in the next Leela, I whispered, with the end of my sari held between my lips to ensure modesty.

We celebrated Leela every year at the end of the autumn harvest; an eight-day festival celebrated in the glory of Indra, our most revered deities. I did not care why everyone revered him, but Leela was the most joyful celebration, one to be remembered and talked about for the rest of the year. Celebration days, usually started with a bazaar with things for everyone to enjoy. There were astrologers, acrobats and bards. Sages from the area also gathered, discussing moral concepts and recommending ways of attaining moksh, while the evenings were reserved for our play to honor Indra and how he killed several demons on behalf of his people. Poorak's younger brother, Raychuk, played one of those demons.

Siya, good you came. Can you hold this string so I can tighten the knot? This one is going to be the best drum we've ever played in a Leela, Poorak said, ignoring my concern.

I promptly put aside the stack of wood I had been carrying and sat down next to him to help him tie the knot. They had been celebrating Leela many years before I moved to this village after marrying Poorak's older brother, Kumbak. Poorak's passionate attitude brought everyone together to make each Leela better than the previous. When we were done with the knot, I asked him if he had heard what I said.

So what is going on with Raychuk? Poorak asked, looking towards Raychuk's house, the house the brothers had built after their father died. When Poorak married, he had used the empty land on the other side of the village fire and built a house of his own.

Your brother says he is sick of being a demon every Leela. He wants us to find someone else to play his part.

We can't find someone else, Poorak interrupted, everyone loves to hate him. Tell him he has no choice. He has to perform. But why doesn't he want to act anyway?

I don't know. I was hoping you would know, I said.

Why don't we go and ask him? Wait here for a moment while I put this drum inside and then we'll go and find out what's going on. Poorak got up, opened his turban, wrapped the cloth around his shoulders, and picked up the drum and went inside.

In moments, I had picked my bundle of wood up again and we were on our way to see Raychuk. Look at that beautiful sky, Poorak said, raising his arm towards the west as we walked around some children playing in the yard. I love this cool refreshing breeze. When we were near the village fire, he offered a piece of wood from the stack I was carrying to the perpetual, dim village fire. Before we had a fire pit in the center of the village it had been difficult to start a fire every day. Now, everyone just came to the community fire and took a piece of a burning wood to their kitchen.

Houses were not very organized on this side of the village. When someone needed a house, they just built one on any available piece of land around the village fire pit. Most of the houses looked alike, with a porch in the front and cooking area at the back, outer walls covered with a mixture of lime, earth and the purifying agent, cow dung. The roofs were made of straw and hay matting placed on a bamboo framework of struts and wooden crosspieces from which the dividing mats hung down. I am no expert at building houses, but I knew how they were constructed because I helped my husband build our house after our marriage.

Raychuk, youngest of the three brothers, was not yet married. He lived with their mother. Poorak called to him and he came outside right away. He was a good looking, tall, fair and strong man, but when we colored his face and teeth to match his black beard and made him wear large ugly ornaments and an ox hide, he looked like a real demon, fitting his part in this play that I had helped Poorak organize since first moving to this village.

We should no longer play and pretend, Raychuk said, to explain his decision. "We must fight for real and kill real demons now. Duryodhan has gone too far against the dharm. We should end his misdeeds."

Everyone in the village knew about the tension between the two cousins from the northeast. The conflict had spread to other clans, with each taking sides according to their relationships and how many details they knew or cared about. Duryodhan had long refused to give any part of the kingdom to his cousins.

Raychuk, Raychuk, Raychuk, Poorak said. You are mistaking reality with a role you play in our Leela for everyone to enjoy. You make people forget their troubles and the hard work they put in throughout the year. It is as simple as that. With each word, I could see Poorak become more irritated, working to control his emotions. Normally Poorak was a calm and quiet man, but when his Leela was threatened for any reason you saw a different side of him.

It is not that simple for me, Raychuk argued. Whenever a demon dies on the stage, people think evil has left them forever. I can tell you, evil does not die on the stage; it only pretends. The real evil lives until we destroy it for real. We need to do that now.

They argued some more, but Raychuk, who was supposed to have become a carpenter like his father and his two older brothers, was determined to stop pretending and fight in a real battle. Carpenter's sons, everyone knew, should be carpenters, too. Unfortunately, Raychuk hadn't had anyone to teach him the intricacies of carpentry after his father, the master carpenter, died when he was young. He took the only other path offered to him—he joined the army and became one of the few soldiers who lived in what otherwise was a village of artisans. I thought, if you take away the inherent skills from an artisan, of course, all he will want to do is fight.

* * *

I am sure you are going to be pregnant soon and we will have the strongest boy in the whole village, my husband, Kumbak, said as he got up to put on his clothes. It was still too early in the morning for the villagers to leave their houses for the morning chores.

We have been married so long, what makes you so sure this time? I asked, trying to cover myself with my sari.

Because I had a dream, an unusual dream. A dream within a dream. A dream within a dream always comes true.

This was a new story I was hearing from my most rational husband. How did he come up with these ideas?

You think I am making up a story, don't you? Kumbak continued, This is a dream… a dream within a dream. If you don't believe, I will give you a hint: isn't it true that a dream is real as long as it lasts?

I agreed.

And so is life… life is also real as long as it lasts. He waited for my reaction, got none, and then continued. A dream within a dream is like life within a life-our baby inside you. I don't know if it makes any sense to you, but it does to me. Anyway, let us get going, I hope you remember I have to go east today. Please get my things ready for me to leave quickly.

Where do you have to go so early? I asked.

All you remember these days is your Leela. I told you: Arjun and Duryodhan are coming soon to meet Krishna. Some of us have been asked to go and attend to the needs of Arjun and Duryodhan at their last rest stop before they reach Dwarka. I am going in case their royal chariots need repairs.

I loved my dear husband so much because he was always full of energy. Now I understood why he was getting all the mice out of the house and making sure all the holes were filled to prevent any snakes from coming inside. He always performed this chore whenever he left home without me.

But why are Arjun and Duryodhan coming this far? I asked, picking up cooking wares to take outside to better enjoy the day after the past few days of rain.

The two cousins are fighting for their rights, the rights to own the welfare of ordinary people like us in the northeast region, Kumbak explained, and we, the ordinary, are supposed to support one set of princes over the other by giving our lives on the battlefield. I get so carried away when I think of this. The simple answer to your question is that I think they are coming to ask for Krishna's support in the war.

Their needs will never end, I said, still holding the pot I wanted to take outside. Whatever we give them, they will keep making demands as long as they possess anything less than everything. But how can we prevent them from this destruction?

I don't know how. I do know what I need to do—I need to leave quickly. Do you know where my short bow is? I have not used it for so long, he asked, looking towards the corner where he usually kept it.

Don't tell me—after wishing for peace, you are getting ready to fight with your bow. Why do you need a bow to take care of chariots?

Battlefields are where two enemies meet each other. When Arjun and Duryodhan are with Krishna, they may behave well. Without him around, it may not take much for their desires to take other means, Kumbak said, looking around the room.

If they do resort to violence, what can you possibly do? You cannot fight them, can you? I asked, putting down the pot to get his bow.

I may not be able to fight warriors, but I can certainly try to fight the war. By myself, I cannot do anything, but we can do much collectively. I am not going there alone. I should leave soon. Let us find my bow. Kumbak's impatience for his bow had made him speak louder and louder.

Here is your bow, I said. I put it high in the attic, so the neighbor's children wouldn't play with it.

I finally took the pot outside and set up a fire to cook millet and Kumbak's favorite dish, pulse with ginger. He could carry it with him and eat whenever he stopped at the river for a bath.

Kumbak finished his preparations while I cooked and before long he'd gathered what he needed and had fetched his horse.

I will be back in a few days, Kumbak said as he climbed on his horse. We have been asked to stay there until our guests return to their homes.

As I usually did, I walked along Kumbak's horse as it trotted through the village. I followed him as far as I could, then watched him gallop away, leaving behind a dust cloud. I turned back as the dust settled.

On my way back, I noticed a bard, surrounded by little children, walking into the village. He sang as he drummed.

Love has no reason

No one it seeks

The nebulous verb

Defines the noun

You or me

There is no one

It is just done.

There is no one

It is just done.

I found the old man's voice unusually soothing and his music refreshing. I joined the children and followed him, reminiscing about the times when his style and the type of music he was playing were all I had to occupy my thinking. The bard had long, mostly white, matted hair, no turban, and a matching long white uneven beard. Seeing him reminded me of the storytellers I grew up with. All he wore was a cloth wrapped around his waist and a Rudraaksh necklace. He held a one-sided drum on his shoulder with one hand and played it with the other. A mostly empty bag, made of rolled-up cloth, hung from his left shoulder.

Everyone around Dwarka spoke the way the Yadavs spoke up north in Mathura from where they had migrated. Even the natives of the land had to adapt their ways to the Mathuran way of speaking. This bard, much darker than the Yadavs from Mathura, was impressive, singing so well in the Mathuran style.

He continued his song and played his drum along with his words.

Deities have no reason

No one they seek

Nebulous verbs

Define the nouns

Them or us

There is no one

It is just done.

There is no one

It is just done.

You sound wonderful, I said, when he stopped. Where do you come from? I have never seen you before.

The bard put down his drum on the porch of the closest house, sat down and said, I thank you for your compliments lady. I am so glad at least one adult heard and liked me. I come from far. I am tired and hungry.

I told him to follow me and took him home. I left him sitting on the porch and fetched some food, hoping he would sing some more after he had rested and eaten. If the world functioned my way, I would have loved to go around towns singing as he did. Women cannot always do what men can, they say—it is unsafe for us to travel by ourselves. What is your name? I asked.

I used to have a different name. The name never suited me, so they gave me a new name: Charvak, they call me Charvak.

Strange name, I thought, but before I could ask him for its meaning, he said Most people ask me to explain my name, especially in this area. Before you do, let me tell you, my name is made of two words, Charu and vak: 'Charu' means good and 'vak' means voice. I am not sure how good my voice is, but that is what I am called now.

How appropriate I thought. You have a great voice. You should be called Mahavak… and Maha means great.

Just then, we saw Matali galloping unusually fast towards us on his distinctive white horse. Usually riders slowed down around houses and children.

Siya, can you call Kumbak? We need to leave right away. Matali said, holding the reins of his horse tight, eager to continue moving. Matali was my husband's friend and partner in chariot making. Kumbak did the woodwork, while Matali was an expert in metalwork. It was surprising Matali still got along and worked well with Kumbak, because Matali had liked me since the day he came to live in my father's live-in school we called gurukul. He hated to see me marry Kumbak. I must admit, I liked him, too. He was, after all, a good looking man with two black birthmarks on his cheeks. They made him look so adorable. He was also much more vibrant than Kumbak and had often asked me to sneak out of the gurukul with him. I had been stupid enough to go with him to his favorite secluded cave a few times. Looking back, I feel ashamed when I think of all I did with him in those caves. Not many know, but Matali is the one who gave me my much loved metal necklace. I wear it all the time. He even told me once, Siya and Matali together would make Siyam, the name people often called Krishna. My father did not let me fall for all that. He told me Kumbak was the right man for me, so I married Kumbak.

He is not here, I just saw him go that way, I said, pointing to the south. Kuru country, where Arjun and Duryodhan were coming from, was northeast of us. To go there, however, one had to first go south to bypass a large body of water.

Who did he go with?

He was alone. He told me he was going to greet Duryodhan and Arjun on their way to Dwarka.

I thought we were all going to go together. All right, a simple misunderstanding. We will try and catch him. Matali then turned towards Charvak and said, And who are you, sir?

People call me Charvak.

I hope you are not here to create problems in our peaceful village, Matali said, as he turned around to move on.

Charvak looked at me for an explanation, but I was equally confused by the comment.

Doors of most of the houses around us opened, people came out, and watched Matali as he rode off. He gestured back at us to let everyone know not to worry, all was in order. Stares were then directed at Charvak and me, as we stood there, confused by the commotion the riders had created. Poorak's mother and his wife, Kriti, also came out of their houses and walked up to us. After I explained to them briefly the reason Matali was in such a hurry, I introduced them to Charvak and praised his voice. Perhaps Charvak did not like my accolades because he abruptly got up, thanked me for the food and left. That disappointed me, for I had been looking forward to more of his songs.

Kriti whirled around, keeping her gaze on Charvak as he walked away from us. When he was far enough, she turned back and said to me, You should not associate with people like him. I know them well. I am sure he comes from the Anart region where the people are materialist demons. They do not worship any of our deities, or even fire. For them what they see is all that matters and they honor no other world—they lack all imagination. All they care about is the divinity within their body.

The Poorak's wife came from a conservative, orthodox family. Her father, also a builder, worked with Poorak's father during the construction of Dwarka. The two friends had arranged their children's marriage when they were just babies. Though I was related to Kriti and lived close to her, I always had difficulty relating to her way of thinking and often wondered what Poorak saw in her.

My father once told me about the strange customs these people follow, Kriti continued. Did you know when a mother in their tribe marries her eldest daughter, she has to submit to the amputation of two joints of her middle finger? Some of their customs are so disgusting. According to what I've heard, one of their most savage customs is that if a girl with apparent signs of puberty dies before having had intercourse with a man, the girl's parents have to procure some wretched fellow to consummate a marriage with the corpse.

Mother and I glanced at each other and shook our heads.

2

Poorak

Kumbak, Matali and I needed to finish building a chariot for the clan leader of Prabhas but Kumbak and Matali were asked to leave everything to go welcome our royal guests, Arjun and Duryodhan. I really needed Kumbak, for he was an expert in the intricate task of making and maintaining wheels, the most important part of a chariot. For as long as our recorded time, chariots had been built with wheels attached to the axle. This feature caused them to topple easily when turning sharp corners at high speed. Kumbak had come out with a new way of fixing the axle to the chariot and