Prajwalita: Jaya!, #2

By Geetha Krishnan

Vasushena has improved beyond recognition, but needs a teacher to complete his education. No one will accept a Suta, however, but when Suyodhana forces the royal teacher to give Vasushena lessons, it is the start of a friendship that will forge the path of destiny.

 

In Drona's ashram, Yudhishtira shines, but the cost has to be paid by others. Vasushena decides to leave and to find another teacher. Suyodhana and Bheema's rivalry reaches new heights, and Vidura and Kunti's machinations also reach new heights.

 

When tensions between him and his cousins mount, Suyodhana forces his father to exile them, but will it finally bring peace to the Kingdom or only make matters worse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Geetha Krishnan
• Release date: Dec 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201217259

Geetha Krishnan

Geetha Krishnan is an author of books derived from the rich and vast spectrum of Indian mythology. A practising Hindu, their books show their deep knowledge of the religion and customs of ancient India. Their books have won many accolades and have been universally praised for the twists they bring to their retellings. Their books Ayana and Pradyutita have made it to the semi finals of SPFBO 2019 and 2020 respectively, and their short story, The Forgotten Son has won an Honourable Mention in The Writers of the Future Contest. Durga was the Runner up of the Rev PIt 2020. 

Book preview

BOOK TWO OF JAYA!

GEETHA KRISHNAN

First published by Geetha Krishnan 2022

Copyright © 2022 by Geetha Krishnan

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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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This series started with an idea. An idea that was not originally mine. An idea that began with reading an interview with the great Bibek Debroy who translated the Critical Edition of the Mahabharata into English.

For those not familiar with it, the Critical Edition was a work that is considered the most authentic version of the Mahabharata, and its compilation took almost 5 decades. 48 years of research by various scholars and experts of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute (BORI) led to its making, and for the longest time, there were no translations available, making the work inaccessible to all but Sanskrit scholars. However, with Debroy’s translation, that changed.

Mahabharata has always been one of my passions, and in his preface to the Critical Edition, Debroy had stated something that he repeated in the interview I read. It was a controversial take, but it sparked the idea for this book.

I had always wanted to write a book with Karna as the centre, one which stripped the epic of its glamour and delved into the darkness it hid within. And when I read that interview, and later the preface to CE before delving into it, it was as if something clicked. Debroy opined in both places that Arjuna was a later interpolation as were the twins, and that in his view, the original epic had only two Pandavas.

If the epic had only two Pandavas, then who was the archer who won Draupadi’s hand, who married Subhadra, who became friends with Krishna, changing the very course of history? There are grounds to believing that this could have been Bheema since there are versions of Mahabharata where Bheema wins the contest for Draupadi’s hand. However, in those versions, it was wrestling contests rather than archery contests that Bheema wins. In view of that, I was forced into considering that the archer was actually Yudhishtira himself, that if Arjuna was indeed a later interpolation, then he was created from the best parts of Yudhishtira.

This was the kernel from which this story was born. As for the rest of it, as everyone knows, history is written by the victors, and it is my belief that the inconsistencies of the epic as well as the various interpolations arose in an attempt to erase and rewrite the history of what actually happened.

So, here is my version of what really happened, stripped of magic and miracles, and gods; it is still a godly tale, a tale of great deeds and small, of small men and large, a story that does encompass all that is good and bad within ourselves, and around us.

Geetha Krishnan

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE STORY SO FAR

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY ONE

TWENTY TWO

TWENTY THREE

TWENTY FOUR

TWENTY FIVE

TWENTY SIX

TWENTY SEVEN

TWENTY EIGHT

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

THE STORY SO FAR

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Pradyutita starts with a prologue where the sage Vyasa is visiting the city of Hastinapura where he is accorded an honoured welcome. Later, the King, Yudhishtira visits him privately in his chambers, and Vyasa accuses him of killing someone. Yudhishtira is blasé about it and threatens Vyasa’s disciples if he didn’t write an epic poem to commemorate Yudhishtira’s great deeds without mentioning any of the heinous acts he committed. When he is alone, Vyasa casts his mind to the past, to the tale he will have to modify, to the lies he will have to tell.

The story opens in a dark night in the kingdom of Kunti where the princess asks two assassins to kill a baby and gives them a chest of gold as payment. The assassins remove the gold, put the baby in the chest and throws it into the river. The baby is rescued by a childless couple in the kingdom of Hastinapura and brought up as their own. They name him Vasushena, and he was sickly at first, but soon becomes healthy and shows an aptitude for warfare, especially archery.

The tale shifts to the family of the Kurus, the ruling family of Hastinapura. Bheeshma, the patriarch and the uncle of the king and Vidura, his bastard half-brother, has blackmailed the princess Kunti into choosing the impotent Pandu as her husband in the Swayamvara. They have learned that she had a child before marriage and had hired assassins to get rid of it. Vidura tries to make advances on Kunti but is rebuffed. Bheeshma tries to bring Pandu under his thumb and away from Kunti’s influence by arranging his marriage with Madri, the princess of Madra and the sister of its ruler, Shalya. Kunti is upset but tolerated Madri. Pandu goes on a campaign of conquest and returns victorious. He goes on a hunting trip with his wives to relax where he accidentally kills a sage. Bheeshma uses the opportunity to make him abdicate the throne in favour of his blind elder brother, Dhritarashtra in the hopes that he will be easier to control.

Dhritarashtra is married to Gandhari, the prince of Gandhara. In a fit of petulance, she has tied a cloth on her eyes to blindfold herself permanently since her husband is blind. Shakuni, her brother, is angry, but accepts it. He comes to Hastinapura and helps Dhritarashtra be free of Bheeshma’s control.

In the forest, Pandu is saddened because he is unable to have children. He requests Kunti to have a child by the practice of Niyoga and chooses Vidura as her partner. Kunti is initially reluctant, but agrees since she hopes that through her son, she could be a queen mother at least.

Gandhari becomes pregnant, and Vidura hires an assassin to poison her, but the attempt is foiled by Suka, the son of Vyasa and the sage herself who saves both Gandhari and the children she was carrying. She gives birth to six sons.

Vidura attempts to get rid of the assassin who is injured but escapes by hiding in a forest. He is discovered by Vasushena. He teaches the boy weapons and warfare in return for food, medicines and his silence.

Kunti gives birth to twins, but soon realises that Pandu has no intention of leaving the forest. She and Vidura conspire to poison Pandu and to kill Madri.

Vidura tells Bheeshma that Pandu is dead and his children should be brought to Hastinapura, to which Bheeshma agrees.

Vasushena’s adoptive father, Athiradha gives him an armour with an emblem that was etched on the lid of the chest where he found him, but he doesn’t tell him that. Vasushena decides to make it his emblem.

This is where Prajwalita begins…

THE CROWDS WERE QUIET, and as he walked past them, Yudhishtira was aware of eyes on him. He didn’t know what those stares meant, but it made him grip his mother’s hands tighter and to press closer to her. He wasn’t afraid, but there was something about the looks that made him uncomfortable. No one had stared at him so in the forest. He risked a glance at his mother, but she was walking with her head held high, seemingly unconcerned with whatever was going on around her.

Yudhishtira was not too tall, nor well built, unlike his twin who was larger and looked older. Both of them had the same wavy hair, and oval face, but Yudhishtira’s features were closer to their mother’s whereas Bheema’s were unmistakeably that of the Kurus’. The high cheekbones that gave Kunti her haughty appearance was repeated on her elder son’s face as did the wide eyes fringed with thick lashes and the straight nose. Bheema’s was a more aquiline nose, his jaw squarer than his twin’s, and his brow wider.

Bheema walked close to Yudhishtira and Yudhishtira was somewhat relieved to see his own discomfort mirrored in his twin’s eyes. He released his mother’s hand and clasped his hands together behind his back. It was better not to look at anyone, except at his mother and the sages who had brought them there, not even at their uncle who had been at their side from the funeral. He risked a glance at the two litters that the dasas were carrying, the two charred corpses on them covered with cotton sheets. The air no longer smelt of burnt flesh. The breeze wafted in only pleasant smells, some familiar and some not. Smell of flowers, cow dung, and the aroma of cooking.

His stomach rumbled loudly, and he looked around furtively, catching the commiserating smile on his twin’s face. No one else had heard it, and Yudhishtira heaved a sigh of relief. Mother would certainly not like it, no matter that he had no control over it. Mother was always stern about things that might cause her embarrassment.

In spite of his best resolutions, he could not stop himself from sneaking a look around every now and then, avoiding the eyes that were staring at him. The city was a strange place, with so many buildings so close to each other. The streets through which they walked were wide and paved with smooth stones. The buildings were mostly constructed of stone too, unlike the huts where they lived in the jungle. They had been made of mud with thatched roofs and floors polished with cow dung. Here, roofs were wood and tiles, but the smell of cow dung that the breeze carried was reassuring.

His mother stopped, but so lost was Yudhishtira in his own world that he took a few steps more before becoming aware that he was alone. He looked up into the fierce and scowling face of an old man. He took a few steps back, bumping into his mother, whose hands came down on his shoulders, gripping them so tightly that they hurt. He tried not to whimper as he glanced up. Kunti was staring at the man, her head still held high.

Vidura stepped forward, facing the old man, and saying in his usual impatient tone. Aren’t you going to welcome your grandnephews home, uncle?

The old man’s brows furrowed and his scowl deepened, but his eyes lowered to look at Yudhishtira and Bheema.

Of course, he said, his voice cold. Welcome to Hastinapura, Kunti and children. The entire kingdom mourns the death of our former monarch.

Kunti’s lips pressed close, but she inclined her head, before saying, eyes lowered now. Thank you, uncle.

Yudhishtira couldn’t understand what was happening. His mother’s hands were vicelike on his shoulders still, and he could see how her eyes were blazing, though she kept them lowered.

Bring them to the palace, the old man said. Make arrangements for the funeral and the last rites. The King of Madra will be here tomorrow.

Vidura inclined his head. Yudhishtira released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

Who was that? he asked, his voice small.

That is your grand uncle, it was Vidura who replied. Bheeshma, the commander of the armies of Hastinapura. Come, we’ll meet your uncle, aunt and cousins.

Cousins? Yudhishtira felt excitement rise in him. He had never had playmates before other than Bheema. Mother hadn’t permitted him to even talk to the other children at the forest, though he knew that Bheema played with them. He had learned how to wrestle from them. Yudhishtira did not resent his more robust brother, but he wished mother had allowed him to play with the children too. Perhaps she would let him play with his cousins.

We have cousins? Bheema was asking, looking equally excited as they both hurried after Vidura. Kunti followed behind, a slight frown on her face, but neither of her sons saw it. How old are they? How many are there?

You have eight cousins, Vidura said. And they’re the same age as you. You all will be starting your studies soon under Kripacharya.

Yudhishtira and Bheema looked at each other. They had never had teachers. Their father had been their teacher, and occasionally the visiting sages had taught them some things. It was beginning to dawn on them that life here would be very different from that in the forest.

Don’t worry, Vidura said, as if he knew what they were thinking. They haven’t yet started their formal education, so you’ll all be starting together.

Yudhishtira felt his mouth hang open as Vidura led them to a chariot. It was large, almost like a small house. Gleaming golden in the sun, it was being pulled by four horses. A man with a kind smile was holding the reins.

They’re beautiful, Bheema whispered, his eyes riveted on the horses. Yudhishtira nodded fervently. The chestnut manes of the horses looked silky, and their bridle was also varnished with gold. What opulence was this!

Vidura lifted both boys and deposited them in the chariot, before holding out his hand for Kunti. Once she was also inside, he turned to the charioteer.

Take them to the palace, Athiradha.

The man bowed. As you command, Mahamatya.

Yudhishtira turned his head to see Vidura swing himself on to a horse to follow them. The chariot moved swiftly through the paved roads, and soon they were at the gates of the palace. These gates were different from the gates they had met Bheeshma at. These were larger, more imposing and was more heavily guarded. The chariot did not even slow its pace as it continued in through the gates and towards the palace.

THE BALCONY WAS WIDE and the balustrade tall. Suyodhana had to crane his neck to see the visitors. Fortunately, the balustrade wasn’t all smooth stone, but carved with things he could climb on. His brothers were at his side, and so was his sister.

They’re our cousins? Sushasana asked. They look like servants.

Hush, Gandhari said from behind them, and Suyodhana turned to look at her, and the slightly amused smirk on her face reassured him.

Well, they do, he said firmly.

The two boys wouldn’t be able to see them from where they stood, and Suyodhana could see little beyond the clothes they wore. They were dressed in simple white garments, and wore no ornaments. Their faces weren’t visible, but they walked slowly, looking around and stopping every few steps.

Why are they gawking so much? Vikarna asked.

I assume because it’s the first time in a palace, Shakuni spoke from where he was seated near his sister. It’s a good thing we didn’t go downstairs to meet them. I’m sure they stink as well.

Gandhari’s head swivelled to her brother, and Suyodhana and his brothers turned to watch. It was more fun than watching the unknown cousins, anyway. It always fascinated Suyodhana, how his mother could intimidate people with a look, even though she was blindfolded and everyone knew she couldn’t see.

Shakuni groped for the goblet of wine on the side table, nervous.

What? he muttered, defensive. I didn’t say anything that isn’t true.

You’re forgetting your circumstances, Gandhari said, turning her face away with regal unconcern. Suyodhana, describe them to me.

Suyodhana peered at his cousins, looking to see anything else from this height that could be helpful.

Um… They’re dressed in white angavastras and uttariyas, he said. One is large, and the other is normal. They look to have matted hair, you know, like sages?

His words ran out at that point, and Shakuni sighed as he rose. All right, he said. Get away from the balcony. It’s too dangerous. He herded them in, closing the large ornate doors and plunging the room into dimness.

It’s too dark, Yuyutsu said, pressing himself closer to Suyodhana.

Shakuni clapped his hands loudly and two servants marched in who started to light the oil lamps and the torches till the room was brightly lit again.

Send in the dasis, Shakuni said.

Uncle! Suyodhana protested. He didn’t want the dasis to take them back to the playroom.

Remember that your cousins are here, Shakuni said sternly. You can’t go on as hitherto. You’ll be expected to greet them soon, and you need to look and behave as Kuru princes.

And Princess, Dusshala chimed in.

Gandhari suppressed a snort at that. Soon, the dasis came to take the children, and she spoke only after she was certain she was alone with her brother.

You fear, she said.

With good reason, Shakuni said. I don’t trust that woman, and I trust your brother-in-law even less.

Uncle hates them more, Gandhari said. But he isn’t happy with Swami either, so I’m not sure how much advantageous that is to us.

Let’s not look to outsiders for advantage, Shakuni said. I would need to go back to Gandhara soon. I came only to ensure that no usurper is going to supplant my nephew. I don’t have faith in your husband. He’s too docile.

Coming from anyone else, Gandhari might have objected, but she only shrugged. He loves our children. He will do whatever is needed to ensure Suyodhana succeeds to the throne.

Don’t hesitate to send for me if you need me. Shakuni dropped a hand on her shoulder. I wish you could come with me. Mother would have been glad of your company. She feels lonely at this time.

I know, Gandhari said, her