Hastinapur

By Gautam

After the cataclysmic war at Kurukshetra, in the Mahabharata, evil is defeated and Dharma prevails. The victorious guardians of Dharma ascend the throne at Hastinapur. But, their rule also ushers in the Kaliyug, the age of the Demon Kali and an age of Adharma, where power, deceit and ruthlessness rather than honour and Dharma dictate actions. The age we live in. What went wrong? Is the story we know, a one-sided one, viewed through the hackneyed lens of the Pandavas, as decreed by the victors?
Who really are the Pandavas? Are they truly what we know them to be? Did their actions initiate the Kaliyug? Does Vasudev side with the Pandavas because they are on the side of Dharma or because they are in need of Dharma? Are the Kauravas really evil? If they are truly evil, why are honourable men like Devavrath and Drona on their side?
Hastinapur is the untold story of the Kuru clan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9789352062645

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GAUTAM

Notion Press

Old No. 38, New No. 6,

McNichols Road, Chetpet,

Chennai - 600 031

First Published by Notion Press 2015

Copyright © Gautam 2015

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN: 978-93-5206-264-5

This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to make the material error-free. However, the author and the publisher disclaim the responsibility.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

a iti |

sa yathākāmo bhavati tatkratur bhavati |

yatkratur bhavati tat karma kurute |

padyate ||

You are what your deep, driving desire is

As your desire is, so is your will

As your will is, so is your deed

As your deed is, so is your destiny

Chapter 1

Devavrath bowed respectfully before his guru , Parashuram. Slowly, turning away, he looked into the darkness, confident of his abilities. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing his energy on concentrating on the task ahead. He slowly opened them peering into the darkness of the forest and the calm Amavasya (moonless) night glowed with something other than the darkness. He was not just looking, but seeing everything. His breathing was slow. He seemed to have attained oneness with the elements around him. He felt the weight of his bow in his left hand balanced by the tunir (quiver) on his back. He slowly drew a deep breath before reaching for an arrow from his tunir and placing it on his bow. His movements were deliberate, confident and fluid. Devavrath closed his eyes once again, feeling the cool wind caressing his skin as he cleared his mind. He blurred his surroundings so that his concentration was not diluted. He heard the echoes of his Guru’s words in his ears:

One must first master shooting what one can see, before one can target what one can’t see.

Parashuram had taught him a very important rule: Never rely on what you see. Rely on what you know.

The choice was simple, he said, either you can do it or can’t. Even to make the impossible possible you need to first visualise it in your head. In archery, you need to see the target being hit at the point of aim even before your arrow takes flight.

Though proving a point was never part of his agenda, Devavrath had told himself that he would only need to shoot one arrow as part of this his Shabd Bhedi training. The complexity of shabd bhedi was simple: he had to shoot an arrow with only sound as a reference and still hit an invisible target. Devavrath had come a long way from targeting things he could see. He was aware that his guru was the indomitable Parashuram. It was not in his nature to make things easy, so he embraced the inevitable with a vengeance. Devavrath needed to decipher the sounds he heard in this still night, and to pick out the sound of a drop of water while it fell in a kalash (metal pot), which was placed a distance away. The droplet was the only clue to the position of the kalash, which was his target. Devavrath knew that this specific sound would be inaudible in comparison to the sounds of the night. Undaunted, he looked into the darkness that shadowed the forest, relying on his training to target the kalash.

Parashuram had taught Devavrath, Sound becomes more distinct and seems to travel faster at night, just as the smallest spark can be spotted from anywhere, as it splits the night. Remember, in war, these are double-edged anomalies affecting both you and your opponent.

As Devavrath pulled the drawstring of the bow back, the tense energy of the bow and his muscles concentrated along the entire length of the arrow, waiting for his fingers to release it and set it free so it could take flight. The nocturnal noises around the ashram seemed to suddenly come alive to his focused mind. The wind whispered through the trees and seemed to be lashing the forest, sounding like an eerie whistle. The chattering of crickets was just one more sound added to that of the numerous insects that were contributing to the cacophonous orchestra provided by nature. The fireflies were distracting, but they offered the only glow in the moonless night. His mind registered a wild boar at a distance grunting as it gouged the ground, ripping the roots of the shrubbery in search of its meal. Suddenly, the unmistakeable sound of a droplet fell softly into a small pool of water and shattered his concentration. The sound amplified as it left its narrow opening. Slowly, forming the dimensions of the pot in the empty, shadowy depth of the forest and gradually seemed visible to Devavrath. Simultaneously, every other sound ebbed, and faded into oblivion. He saw the arrow take flight, pierce the pot and embed itself into the tree behind. At this point, he released the arrow.

The wind carried the metallic chime of the arrowhead piercing the kalash to Parashuram’s ears, followed by a thud as the arrow embedded itself into the tree.

So what do you think? asked Parashuram, still looking into the darkness.

Devavrath calmly turned to Parashuram. "I don’t think, Gurudev. I know I have pierced my target."

Parashuram’s expression changed. He patted the boy on his back, Come, let’s get back, it’s late.

"But Gurudev, don’t you want to check?"

Parashuram looked at the boy intently, "Devavrath, it seems I know my pupil better than he knows himself. However, if this is pride, fight it. There are lines even a King should not cross. As a Kshatriya, pride will come naturally to you, but misplaced illusions of pride are lamentable. You have much to learn."

Parashuram was a tall, powerfully built man. He had long hair and beard, both streaked grey and white, falling like silk from his head and face. His age was indeterminate, legend had it that he had been around forever. Time had etched its mark on his face. Deep-seated and troubled feelings seemed to have seared through his skin leaving a permanently angry expression on his face. His blazing eyes only accentuated that expression. He was a Brahmin by birth, but had become a warrior by choice. It was claimed that he had been schooled in the art of warfare by Lord Shiva himself, the destroyer of evil in the world. Parashuram’s weapon of choice was the axe or parashu, presented to him by his Guru, Mahadev, which earned him the name Parashuram. He was undefeated in battle. It was said that he had rid the world of all evil and wayward kshatriyas twenty one times. His abilities as a warrior and his garb of a Brahmin were never complementary. His name spelt terror to even the most accomplished warriors.

Training Devavrath, a Kshatriya, was a first for Parashuram. His personal vendetta against this class for atrocities committed against his family started the legend of Parashuram. He was respected and immensely feared for the wrath he was able to unleash. His axe, his favourite weapon, severed the heads and limbs of many kshatriyas who ran amok in their duties towards humanity. He had the unique distinction of having conducted the Ashwamedha Yagna, (horse sacrifice) performed only by sovereign Kings to proclaim their ascendancy over lesser Kings and declare their supremacy over their territory. He completed the Yagna unopposed and donated the spoils to the Brahmins. The glories of his accomplishments recounted around campfires and warrior camps were inspiring and gory all at once. The tales carried an unspoken and lingering warning to the Kshatriyas. Do not stray from your Dharma lest you awaken a slumbering Parashuram.

This Brahmakshatriya, Parashuram, much against his beliefs, succumbed to the pleas of Devarath’s mother, Bhagirati, and accepted Devavrath as his pupil. The dedication that the boy exhibited to his tutelage was exemplary. It was not just Parashuram, but all of his teachers were immensely proud of Devavrath. Brihaspati and Sukrachariya, who were two of the greatest teachers of their time and considered primordial guides to humanity, taught Devavrath and inculcated in him the qualities and knowledge required of a wise king. Their wisdom and experience were amalgamated over countless years – years that had lost their reckoning in the mist of time.

Devavrath found Sukrachariya intense and unforgiving in his tutoring, Brihaspati was no different from Sukrachariya, except that he was more subdued and understanding in his outlook. Devavrath enjoyed his sessions with these teachers. The sessions were a welcome interlude to the physical rigours of Parushuram’s unrelenting schedule. Devavrath was taught politics, literature, the arts and sciences. The great Rishi Vashist who had taught great kings, including Lord Rama, the legendary King of Ayodhya, considered it a privilege to impart the knowledge of the scriptures to Devavrath.

Bhagirathi had left no stone unturned to ensure that her son received the best knowledge in every field, so as to enable him to step into the world as an accomplished man, with the requisite experience to take on the nuances of daily life. Devavrath did not let her down. He excelled and made his teachers proud. Despite his age, he achieved and displayed a perfect balance between being a warrior, a prince and an ascetic.

Reluctant yet duty-bound, Parashuram was especially severe with Devavrath. He was angry with himself for having succumbed to Bhagirathi’s request and his disdain for the Kshatriyas had made him act in a manner that was unbecoming of a Brahmin or a teacher. He ensured that the skills of warfare and weapons that he had taught Devavrath made his student’s existence miserable. He gave the boy no quarter and seemed to enjoy every taunt and hardship that he placed in his path. In addition to the fiery anger of his guru, Devavrath fought hunger, thirst, fatigue, lack of sleep, aching muscles and the elements of nature, all of which seemed to be his enemies. What changed Parashuram’s demeanour was the attitude that Devavrath displayed. He took every brick thrown his way as a stepping stone to greater learning. He refused to concede to the anger in his guru’s training. The humility with which he presented himself eventually won over the great Parashuram, who realised that his disciple was every bit the kind of disciple a guru could only dream of but never find.

Walking back to the ashram, Parashuram spoke to Devavrath about the Kshatriya Dharma. Devavrath understood why his guru kept reiterating and reinforcing this aspect.

"Serve and obey the King with valour and faith. But, always remember that the kingdom is bigger than any king. It is the greater good of the multitude that will forever endure. Always protect the weak and defenceless. These are integral to the Kshatriya code. Help widows and orphans, respect the honour of women. Live an honourable life and never ever falter. Glory shall be yours. Despise pecuniary rewards, become a karma yogi (a man of good deeds) for these rewards do not mean a thing. Eschew unfairness, meanness and deceit. In your life ahead, many a time, you will come across crossroads where the choices will be hard. Do not choose the simple path. Remember, life is not a bed of roses. Speak the truth always. In the end, the truth will set you free. Persevere to the end in any enterprise you begin."

They ate in silence. The simple food served on a banana leaf consisted of what was grown and collected in and around the ashram. Meat was never part of any meal at the ashram. Devavrath served his guru, placing rice, dal, simple vegetables and fruits in front of his guru. Parashuram said a small prayer, sprinkling water around the banana leaf before he ate. Once Parashuram finished eating, he retired to sleep. Devavrath spent time at his guru’s bedside, massaging Parashuram’s feet till he told him to go and rest.

Devavrath ate his meal and lay down on a chatai (mat) in the aangan (courtyard). Once he lay down, Devavrath looked up at the constellations above, identifying them as his guru had taught him. The heavens, he noticed, moved the stars around every day. There seemed to be a magical finger that took the stars to their new locations, shooting them across the sky. His guru always pointed out the Dhruv Tara (North Star) and reminded Devavrath repeatedly to imbibe the qualities of the star in himself. It was unchanging, remaining firmly in its place always. People always searched out this star as a pathfinder in the void of the night. Thinking of the star, he floated to sleep in anticipation of the new day. Every dawn heralded a day of innovative learning for Devavrath.

Chapter 2

Bhagirathi could not contain herself. Everyone smiled and excused the motherly pride of the woman. She had made many sacrifices. The years of separation were over. She was finally going to be reunited with her son. She went into the minute details, setting up her sons’ room. She chided herself, reminding herself that he was not a little boy anymore and that he had grown up. But she knew he would always be her little boy. She looked forward to spoiling her son silly. She might have been making a spectacle of herself in the palace, but she refused to care. Anticipation, joy, anxiety and impatience had replaced everything else. All that mattered to her was her son’s return.

The excruciating years of training at the ashram had finally ended, perfecting Devavrath’s knowledge in the arts of war and administration. The rigours of the ordeal had burned away all his puppy fat, and chiselled his boyish features, giving rise to a tall, handsome man with a lean, lithe and athletic frame. His broad shoulders tapered sharply to his waist. The sun had tanned his torso and his chest was dark, smooth and seemingly oiled. Black waves of hair hung over his shoulders. He had deep and penetrating hazel eyes that seemed to perceive every minute activity yet react to nothing. He was considerate and friendly, but undemonstrative. Though he was an imposing figure, confident of his abilities and knowledge, he carried himself humbly in a serene and composed way.

Devavrath greeted his mother when she came to the ashram. She could not believe that the small boy who used to hide behind her had grown into a man. Tears replaced all the words she thought she would say. Her eyes were heavy with lack of sleep, in anticipation of meeting her son after all these years. She made an effort, however, to contain her maternal instincts. Being over-demonstrative in the Ashram was not the way she wanted to present herself even if people understood her feelings as a mother.

Bhagirathi arrived at the ashram in the forenoon, and was in conversation with Parashuram.

She had no doubt about the kind of man Parashuram had moulded her son into, even as he explained Devavrath’s prowess in the martial arts. Parashuram had turned him into a warrior of reckoning, an archer with unparalleled skills. He spoke of the battlefields that awaited Devavrath, where he would prove himself. He told her about the training and knowledge imparted by Brihaspati and Shukracharya, which would assist Devavrath as an administrator and statesman. Parashuram summed it up by saying that it was a privilege to have had Devavrath as his student. Devavrath was his best student and would remain so in times to come. Swallowing his pride, Parashuram made no bones about the fact that a student like Devavrath was a rare and once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.

In a tone that Bhagirathi considered ominous, Parashuram revealed her that her son was destined for greatness and that she must not deny him or stand in the way of his heritage and destiny, for fate, it seemed, had already charted a course for Devavrath. She never quite understood what Parashuram implied, but let it go, hoping for the best, despite the manner in which Parashuram had put his point across.

As the day unfolded, preparations for Devavrath’s departure from the ashram continued. Bhagirathi waited, catching glimpses of him as he went about getting his things organised. She barely recognised him now. She remembered him as the little boy she had cradled since birth, who used to harass her and become stubborn whenever she tried to feed him when he was not interested in eating. She remembered his giggling and laughter when they played games, particularly when she tickled his stomach. She remembered the first time he scraped his knee when he fell and how she got him to smile by putting on an act of smashing the ground with her feet for having hurt her son. She wondered if he remembered the lullabies she had sung to him as she had rocked him to sleep, while fighting the mosquitoes that tried to disturb his sleep. Just simple childhood memories, she wondered if he thought of them. Today, she had to stand on her toes as he bent down to hug her. She felt her heart sink as the reality – that these may just remain her fond memories of her son – hit her. It was a difficult decision for Bhagirathi to hand her son over to Parashuram for tutoring in a system where she could not be with him, each day of his growing years. It was a bitter pill to swallow. However, it was her son’s future that took precedence over her heart.

As she wondered if she had lost her ‘little’ son, she looked up to find Devavrath looking at her and smiling. No, she thought to herself as she returned his smile, I have not, you are still my son and I can still indulge you. She, however, knew that the indulgence would be short-lived. Even if she wanted to, she could not forget what the immediate future held for her and her son. She had a promise to keep; she would now have to introduce her son to his father, Maharaj Shantanu.

The preparations for departure all done, Devavrath sought the blessings of his guru Parashuram, who said, In you, I have trained a noble warrior. Remember the code and follow it always. When the time comes, you will be a man who will control his own destiny and challenge it constantly. In the course of your life, at every difficult turn, seek answers from the wisdom in your own heart. The mind, my son, can be led astray. Be cautious of that. Remember, knowledge is infinite and learning is a daily undertaking encompassing every activity of your life.

Parashuram bade him farewell. Go Devavrath, and live your life in a manner in which history shall remember you forever, quoting you as an example. Etch your name in the annals of time where it shall remain immortal forever.

Chapter 3

Sardhwan, Hastinapur’s Rajguru (the chief adviser and religious head) was pleasantly surprised by Bhagirathi’s impromptu arrival. She was the former queen of the royal palace, a home she had left many years ago. He was happy to see her return. Bhagirathi greeted him with respect and requested an audience with King Shantanu. The old man smiled and blessed her, but was distracted by the young man with Bhagirathi. His old, weary eyes twinkled with hope at the thought that Hastinapur may be standing on the brink of a new dawn, with erstwhile glories restored. The answer that Hastinapur sought every painful day might finally be standing in front of him in the guise of this young man. Was the long awaited heir to be revealed, finally? Bhagirathi introduced him to Devavrath and in an instant, Sardhwan felt younger by a couple of years. He wished this day had arrived sooner, but he knew that time had its way of unravelling things when it saw fit. Sardhwan dispatched a man to request the King for his presence, and another to arrange for refreshments.

Shantanu was the King of Hastinapur, a once prosperous kingdom, along the western banks of the River Ganga, south of the Shivalik ranges that had gradually lost the standing that it once held. This once powerful kingdom had been at its peak under Emperor Bharat, whose military campaigns had created a vast empire that had come to be known as Bharatwarsh. The weak monarchs that followed led to a glorious empire being reduced to such pittance, that the neighbouring kingdoms now looked at subjugating Hastinapur.

Shantanu took his responsibilities as king for granted, seemingly oblivious to the Kingdom’s needs, his apparent disinterest compounded by his vices – primarily hunting and philandering. State affairs were run under the direction of Sardhwan, the Rajguru, Sushim, the Mahamantri (Prime Minister) and Bhadra, the dedicated Senapati (Commander in Chief) of Hastinapur. The Mahamantri and Senapati were perpetually in a state of disagreement with each other. Though their loyalties lay with the state, Sushim was partial to his King while Bhadra had reached a state of sheer frustration and demanded Shantanu’s involvement in the running of the country. Sushim too would have preferred that, but he was overprotective of his King and kept a frustrated Bhadra at bay, even at the risk of being accused of having ulterior motives. They may have had their differences, but they always worked towards the betterment of Hastinapur and everyone was aware of this.

Bhagirathi had been Shantanu’s wife; and to his subjects, who spoke of their love with fondness, their relationship had been an extremely happy one, at least while it lasted. She was the daughter of Himavan, a tribal chief, from the mountainous region of the Himalayas and encountered Shantanu on one of his hunting trips. Smitten by her charms, he pursued her relentlessly while she shunned his every move, aware of his reputation. She finally succumbed to his persistence and made him promise that he had changed, and that being married to her would mean there would be no place for any other woman in his life. Their marriage had been the welcome change that Hastinapur needed – for the people and for many at court. It was the precursor to an heir. The people desired a Yuvraj (Crown Prince).

The years that followed were happy ones, filled with ecstasy as Shantanu’s world revolved only around Bhagirathi. Their life seemed to be a wave of blissful love coupled with erotic euphoria, a dream that Bhagirathi wished would never end.

Has he not had enough of that woman, that he neglects his subjects? Bhadra growled at Sushim when his request for an audience was conveniently deferred by the king. Apparently not, at least not till he gets her pregnant. I am surprised at his stamina though, laughed Sushim. Bhadra glared at his friend for passing such an unsavoury remark about his king. Had it been anyone else, he would have had him whipped for such insolence. However, there was truth in that statement, no matter how derogatory he felt it was.

Bhagirathi did conceive and it was a joyful day for Shantanu and the kingdom. Ladies-in-waiting and vaids (doctors) were placed on-call from day one. Cooks were hired to cater to her every whim. Bhagirathi was extremely thrilled with Shantanu’s concern, ensuring nothing was wanting when it came to her and her unborn child. But outwardly, she acted serene and chided him for going overboard. However, this delightful feeling was soon replaced with mood swings and unreasonable demands, as her hormones went so wild that Shantanu felt he had to get away from the situation to retain his sanity.

He returned to his hunting escapades that gradually extended to gambolling with women in the countryside.

The inevitable happened and the confrontation did not go well. Bhagirathi’s lady-in-waiting had been rather graphic about Shantanu’s indiscretions while reporting to Bhagirathi. In the course of their arguments, he accepted that he had broken his promise. The betrayal was complete. Her illusion of paradise was shattered when she was in the final term of her pregnancy. The sting of infidelity gave her the strength to make the decision to go back to her father’s house. Despite the vaid’s advice and her pregnancy, she insisted on leaving the palace at once.

At that time, Bhagirathi’s father, Himavan, had remonstrated with her. Now, an aggrieved Himavan was upset about Bhagirathi’s decision to return her now grown son to his father. It was about four months since Devavrath returned from Parashuram’s ashram and here she was ready to give up her son!

Either you are deliberately acting stupid or your motherly instincts are dead! Himavan argued.

Himavan desperately attempted to make Bhagirathi understand that as he did not have any sons, his tribal throne and the entire northern mountains belonged to Devavrath. Bhagirathi agreed, but reasoned that Himavan’s kingdom would be a natural ally when Devavrath became the King of Hastinapur.

Bhagirathi was adamant that her son should ascend the throne of his father. Her strained relations with Shantanu were not going to stand in the way of her son’s destiny. Though he was heir to the throne of Hastinapur, she believed he was destined for still greater things – she ensured that with his training. She knew that her son was born to royalty and for his journey to greatness to begin, he needed to be ensconced in a seat of power. What better way than to start by being the Yuvraj of Hastinapur? Himavan’s grief and disapproval was but a small price to pay for what was Devavrath’s birth right – and she was fiercely adamant that he got it.

Chapter 4

As the dwarpal (the doorkeeper), announced his arrival, Maharaj Shantanu came swiftly down the stairs followed closely by Sushim, to the garden where Sardhwan had arranged for refreshments and tea to be served. Bhagirathi and Sardhwan rose and went forward to greet Shantanu. The years of separation had not dimmed his feelings for her. Shantanu felt warm and at peace when he embraced Bhagirathi. She looked at his still handsome face. The hint of wrinkles and his greying hair gave him a regal and distinguished look. Sardhwan never saw a tear fall, but he did notice King Shantanu’s eyes getting glazed as the joy in his heart expressed itself in his eyes.

Shantanu had numerous questions for Bhagirathi, but for the moment, he was just happy that she was back. Unable to contain himself, he began to enquire about her, asking how had she been all these years, her health, her parents, if she had come home for good and all of that, all the while apologising repeatedly and profusely for his many indiscretions. Bhagirathi smiled and placed her hand on his mouth to stop his querying monologue. His final question was about his son. She saw in him a loneliness that she had never seen before, the joy that his smile conveyed seemed missing from his eyes. The uneasy desperation that he was trying to hide was evident. She smiled gently, took his arm, and brought him forward, to meet Devavrath.

My Lord, this is your son, Devavrath.

Devavrath bent down to touch his father’s feet and rose with folded hands. Shantanu was unable to contain his emotions when he looked into his son’s eyes. Words seemed to fail him as he noticed everyone looking at him. He embraced Devavrath. Holding him close, he felt an irretrievable sting of regret for the years of absence that could never come back. He then held Devavrath at arm’s length, looked at Sardhwan and almost choking, said, "Rajguru, please get a special session of the court organised. We have a Yuvraj to ordain. Let there be no delay!"

Sushim ordered the sevaks (helpers), to make the necessary arrangements to have the Queen and the Yuvraj moved to the royal palace. Bhagirathi and Shantanu walked ahead together followed by Sardhwan and Devavrath.

I am old, my son! Sardhwan told Devavrath, I feared that age might make me fail in my responsibility to Hastinapur, but your arrival has rekindled life in this old man.

Rajguru Sardhwan had an aura of peace around him. He was of a medium build. His skin was loose, making his age very evident. His silver hair and beard showed below his turban and the simple tilak (the sacred mark), on his forehead gave him a somewhat regal presence. The striking thing about this man was that his absolutely clear eyes belied his age. Devavrath felt warm in his presence. He was not unaware of the importance of the Rajguru in the royal family, the court and with the people. He felt that he could look to this man for guidance.

That evening, Sardhwan called on Devavrath, who, with reverence, said that he would have made himself available to Sardhwan at the Rajguru’s behest. Sardhwan smiled; pleased with Devavrath’s humility, starkly in contrast to the tall, proud man he saw standing in front of him. He took Devavrath by his arm into his chambers. Sardhwan sat silently, listening to Devavrath as he recounted his formative years. Devavrath said that he was here to stay.

"I heard about what you achieved as a student, Yuvraj. However, applying the same in practise is an entirely different issue. It remains to be seen. All the learning one gets can never be a substitute for experience. That’s what I am here to help you with."

All that I have learned from my gurus will be tested in my life. I will strive to ensure that I do not let them down. With your guidance, I believe I can learn to be worthy of what is expected of me and I assure you that I will serve Hastinapur with utmost dedication till my last breath! Devavrath responded.

"Do not misunderstand me, Yuvraj, but Hastinapur has been in a state of neglect for some time now and I wish to see her in safe hands before I die. Your arrival has renewed hope for this once great nation. However, I do not want to delve into the past – it has already passed, but I am aware that you have been trained and educated by the best teachers known to humanity. There is a lot of hope riding on you."

For the rest of the evening, Sardhwan explained the various scenarios, as they existed in Hastinapur. The young prince listened keenly to every discourse, asking pertinent questions wherever necessary. Devavrath corrected Sardhwan every time he referred to him as Yuvraj, reminding him that he was not yet ordained. Sardhwan smiled and ignored the observation.

The time spent with Devavrath made Sardhwan realise that his prayers had finally been answered. The long wait for an heir to the throne had been realised. The empty void that people felt and the sadness of glories past now looked to be on the brink of change, ready to bring a new dawn of prosperity and pride. Fate had played its hand and secured the throne of Hastinapur.

"Time, sadly, is a luxury that I do not have. I want to complete two tasks, one is to see that you are nominated the Yuvraj, though in my eyes you already are one, so do not correct me, just indulge this old man, and two is to find my replacement," Sardhwan said as he left the royal palace.

Devavrath was up before dawn, bathed and ready. He performed Surya Namaskar (a yoga as offering salutations to the Sun) as the sun ignited the dawn at the horizon. He seemed to have time at hand and decided to explore the palace that was to become his home. The palace was already aware of the arrival of the prince and the news generated its own share of curious bystanders who wanted a glimpse of the Yuvraj. Everybody in the palace greeted him with warmth. He smiled, aware of being scrutinised from head to toe, but acknowledged every greeting courteously. The ladies-in-waiting at the palace visibly struck by his raw handsomeness were giggling, making him uncomfortable with their gaze. The sentries at their posts snapped to attention, acknowledging and carefully observing the man who was to be their comrade and leader in the field. The Yuvraj was a novelty in Hastinapur. Devavrath sensed the fact, yet was wise enough to know that this infatuation would die its own death.

The aura surrounding Devavrath was one of a proud, powerful warrior. For those who could see beyond, his compassion and empathy were inherent. However, for those who could not, he was a fearful presence. He was clothed in a black dhoti, supported by a broad leather belt at his waist, a black cotton wrap rested on his broad shoulders and a simple red tilak adorned his forehead. Apart from the kundal (earrings), there was no other jewellery on him. The sandals on his feet were of leather and hardly ornate. When he stood casually, he looked like a lance at rest. When he walked, it was with the smooth motion of a snake coupled with the lithe stride of a jungle cat. He appeared to be prepared for any eventuality and ready for action at a moment’s notice.

The palace was built in four tiers on an elevated hill overlooking the entire town which sprawled out in front and around it. He had passed the streets that led to the palace the day before and had noticed the immense planning that had gone into the laying out of the city. The city was neat and clean. The drainage seemed to be of a very high standard. The entrance to the palace faced east, greeting the morning sun. On the lowest level, was a large courtyard, where citizens gathered when they arrived at the palace with their petitions or to simply have a glimpse of the King. There was an elevated platform opposite the entrance from where the king greeted his subjects when there was a regular Darbar (meeting). From here, he would directly address the people and communicate instructions on requests raised by them. Magnificent granite pillars surrounded the atrium. The red sandstone floor seemed polished and was meticulously cleaned every day. At the entry to this sanctum were enormous wooden gates, thick and overlaid with brass, studs, hooks and spear-like projections. The royal guards were imposing figures who took their business seriously, questioning everyone who came in. Devavrath stood for some time, watching the workers and the guards, understanding the kind of protocol maintained at the gate.

He then walked through the marbled hallway that led to the inner chamber where the King held his Khas Sabha (important meetings). This room was smaller, the floor overlaid entirely with white translucent marble with the royal throne on an elevation of seven steps at the far end of the room, with two ornate chairs on either side. Two parallel rows of seats with seven seats on either side extended below the platform in front of the throne. Evidently, the individuals who occupied these sat in order of their hierarchy in the system. The pillars on the sides were inlaid with decorations of leaves and auspicious flowers in gold and precious stones. The oval-domed ceiling was magnificently adorned with sculptures of gods and goddesses looking down on the proceedings below. There were large windows around the room and the light that filtered through these windows seemed to change the colour of the room as the marble absorbed the sun’s rays and dictated the degree of the golden or crimson hews that filled the room.

Devavrath stood in the centre of the hall absorbing the room when he noticed his father had appeared through a concealed passage and was now standing next to the throne. He greeted his father and walked towards him. The King was thrilled to see his son again. We have not had a chance to speak. Walk with me, let me show you the palace while I get to know my son better.

Maharaj Shantanu told him about the room in which they were standing. It was here, he explained, that the major decisions affecting the kingdom were taken. The various seats were occupied by people Devavrath had probably heard of, but had never met, except perhaps for the Rajguru and Shushim, the Mahamantri. Shantanu guided Devavrath back towards the entrance and as they walked, he told him that he was indeed pleased with the effort that Bhagirathi had so courageously made and that he was proud of his son’s training and education by people like Parashuram, Brihaspati, Shukracharya and his spiritual guru Markande who taught him the path of wisdom. Your mother has made you knowledgeable and adept before bringing you here.

Knowledge cannot be contained. It is continuous and infinite, the process of learning too then becomes continuous, as every day presents new opportunities to learn, Devavrath responded. And by that reality, I still have much to learn. Shantanu looked at his son marvelling at the wisdom he displayed at such a young age.

They walked through the entire palace with Shantanu introducing him to the various people they met. He spoke about the history of Hastinapur, explaining the significance of the paintings and portraits that hung on the wall, which silently observed the people walking past them in the gallery. The tour ended in a large ground where they were greeted with a flurry of activity by the soldiers of Hastinapur training in their arts. They walked through the practising soldiers and stopped at the archery stand.

They tell me you are a great archer. Show these men and your father that the prince of Hastinapur has arrived.

Maharaj Shantanu’s words were loud enough for the others in the practice range to hear and take notice. Devavrath was never the kind who would indulge in futile demonstrations; yet at the behest of his father, he picked up a bow under the scrutinising eyes of the soldiers and filled a tunir with arrows. The targets were ten pillars of straw bound tightly together. He examined the stress along the string as the soldiers gathered behind to witness the artistry of their prince. Devavrath slowly placed the first arrow on the bow, took a deep breath and before the next breath, he had released twenty arrows with inhuman speed. It was over in a blink of an eye, the result leaving the gathering speechless; a few seconds later the soldiers roared with applause. Ten arrows had hit their targets bang in the centre and the next ten had split the previous ten at exactly the same point of impact. Devavrath waited a moment, whispering something to the wind and with the same speed released ten more arrows. The onlookers gasped and stepped back, surprised to see flames shooting from the bow with each arrow ignited as it left the bow and immediately all ten targets were on fire. Everyone stood silent, wide-eyed, and unable to detach their gaze from the prince. They recognised they had witnessed only a minute display of the skill of Parashuram’s student.

It’s time for Shalva to pay for his arrogance! Bhadra thought. He could not hide his excited smile.

Shantanu was impressed, too. Finding the right thing to say seemed hard, so he just hugged his son. He held Devavrath’s right hand and raised it for the people to see as he said, "The Yuvraj of Hastinapur, Devavrath!"

The soldiers cheered and acknowledged him by pointing their swords down in front of them. With their hands on the hilt, they went down on one knee in front of Devavrath.

Bhadra who had been silently watching now came forward, his cryptic smile still in place. He was confident that the prince had filled the void he had nursed for what seemed an eternity. Bhadra was a big man. He was not handsome, not overtly tall, but big built with powerful shoulders and a thick neck. The battle scars he carried on various parts of his body were testimony to his experience. It was evident that he commanded immense respect.

So have your prayers been answered, finally? Shantanu asked Bhadra.

He survived Parashuram…. Hastinapur could not have asked for more! replied Bhadra.

Shantanu made introductions. Devavrath and Bhadra connected on a very different level of mutual respect. Two warriors were meeting each other. It was built on an unspoken understanding and acknowledgement, invisible yet very substantial.

Chapter 5

Amonth had passed since Bhagirathi had left the palace for her father’s house. Shantanu had tried unsuccessfully to convince her to stay, by talking to her about his loneliness and how after all his follies, he had come to realise the essence of one’s family. But winning over a woman with a broken heart and betrayed trust was not easy. Bhagirathi had only one thing to say: she never held anything against Shantanu and had forgiven him for everything, but trusting him again was something she found difficult to do and she could not visualise a relationship without trust and hence, her inability to stay. Her instructions before leaving, to Devavrath were simple, clear and twofold: honour your father, and serve Hastinapur in every way and to the best of your ability.

Devavrath was under the tutelage of the Rajguru but he also spent substantial time with Bhadra and in training with the soldiers of Hastinapur. There were reports of Maharaj Shalva of the neighbouring kingdom mounting a campaign against Hastinapur and training to counter this threat was Devavrath’s first and paramount task. This territorial threat