Year of Hiding: The Missing Links

ONE

IT was from far away Gandhar that young Kandha had arrived in Hastinapur as a part of the Shakuni’s entourage. The travel was long and arduous, the initial excitement had faded; excitement of being a part of hundreds of men and women, handpicked to be cooks, helpers, attendants, eunuchs, entertainers, ironsmiths, carpenters, and others with no pre-assigned jobs, who, attired in the best clothes they could gather, had paraded in the streets of the capital behind a contingent of a thousand fighting men in full armour. Kandha was picked up to be one of the prince’s attendants. Being just a recruit he had no earlier training or experience of being around a member of the sovereign family. Don’t worry, son. Just be around and watch me. You are intelligent, and will soon learn everything, assured his uncle who had got him included in the party just a day before they left.

Yes, intelligent he was and watchful and eager to rise too. Within no time Kandha got into the very close circle of attendants who served the prince and were allowed to be around when it was time for his entertainment with a game of dice in his always giggling female company.

Kandha did not know of what the game was all about. He was often in the vicinity when the Prince was with the players who regaled in boisterous guffaws while they played. Being a close witness of such joyous occasions, he soon picked up many terms. He learnt that his Master was the master of the game and almost every time he would win. On very few occasions when he was about to lose, he would get up pick up a particular silk bag from the chest, hold it shoulder high in his hand and shake it. The soft rattling noise that emerged from it pleased him immensely. His narrowed eyes sparkled as all his pastime-mates shouted in unison, No. Not that one. Not that one! Kandha often heard this chatter, No. not that magic pair of dice of yours. We know, it gets you the number you want. Tell us, what is so special about it?

Nothing. Nothing special. Only that the pair gives me good luck. And when pressed hard, he would look around in feigned suspicion and whisper, as if to share a secret, They are human bones. My father’s. He, even in death, wishes me success when I need it.

It was always the prince himself whenever he needed it that brought that bag out and placed it back when it was no longer needed. He let no attendant do that whereas even to twirl his moustache he would not mind help from someone hanging around nearby. Sometimes when there was no one to play with and was all by himself and wanted to sharpen his skills further, he would ensure that no one was watching him take that pair of dice out, look at them intently, and rub them against the silks of his bed till they shone bright. He would then ritually clasp them between his palms and clatter them against each other before gently rolling them out. Once, while camping by a small river, when Prince was about to open his sling bag to take the dice and settle down for his favourite pastime, in flew an errant vulture and got panicked on getting entrapped in that congested tent. The great span of his wings, fully extended during its hurried take off, nearly took with it the hallowed bag. Kandha with presence of mind blinded the bird by throwing his shoulder cloth on his hood, confusing him for a while. He then snatched from him the precious bag at the nick of time.

When the prince recovered from the shock, reconstructed in his mind what had happened in that fraction of a moment and saw that most precious bag with those even more precious pair of dice was in his menial attendant’s hands, he was thankful to the Lord for it. He was very pleased with Kandha, who had shown an excellent presence of mind and retrieved from the evil bird the treasure that was to become the cause of the events of a new history.

Prince Shakuni gave a tight embrace to Kandha, took his hands in his and showered hundreds of kisses on them. You are the saviour, you are the God. he said again and again and taking the silken bag from his hands, kissed it, touched it to his forehead in obeisance to it. Pointing towards the chest where it belonged, he said, O, Kandha, my dear slave, go, keep it there in it. You are now on, allowed to touch it. Bring it to me whenever I ask you

Kandha was overwhelmed by what he experienced at the hands of his master. He did not know how to respond. Dumbstruck, he walked to the chest, opened it gently and lowered in it the bag -which, to him, had weighed a mountain.

Kandha instantly became a celebrity. In days that followed Kandha was many times, with much ado, presented to everyone who visited the prince. Some people had to fabricate some reasons to meet the prince just to find out who was that new ‘gem of a person’ the prince had discovered; he had almost become obsessed with his new find.

Whenever, after the day’s work, Kandha got back to his group of men for his meals and rest, inquisitive marchers of the party surrounded him. Some, whom he had only fleetingly seen during the march, begged him to narrate what had he done to win such praise from the master. Nothing much; a simple thing that anyone in the circumstance would have done. It is the greatness of the Master that he praises me so much was his simple and truthful response.

When his uncle heard him repeat it a second time, he drove the curious listeners away saying, Kandha has received wounds fighting that hungry demon. I have to attend to them. The Master has asked me to do that. The fight with the beast has exhausted the poor boy. He needs rest. Go. Come another time The words confused the young man. I am fine. There is nothing wrong with me. I am not hurt. There was no fight. It was nothing. Nothing. He begged others to believe what he said, but in the meantime, the uncle blocked his mouth with a firm hand, and to others he said, Come another time when he gets better, He then pulled him along to a secluded place. There, he said, Son, listen. Do not utter a word. Just listen. It is not always that one has a chance to shine under the light without first lighting it. The Fortune has smiled on you, bask in it.

Here, give me your finger, he said, and without waiting for Kandha to obey, pulled his hand, took out a dagger from the waistband, made a neat thin score on the boy’s arm, in the blood that oozed, doused two strips of cloth from his headband, and bandaged him. Here! he said and made a similar cut on the boy’s other arm widening it until the blood oozed. Smearing that scarlet red, on the lad’s face he added, Rub some dust on the cuts; they are only skin deep. They will soon be fine. And always remember to tell the story to everyone, with full drama, Say, ‘I had expected the impending attack, planned a strategy, got ready to defend the master, had the Master covered by towering over him. Fought the beast bare hand; with these very hands. Look at them.’

The uncle then continued, Son, remember. Make others believe in what you say. Beat your own drums and draw the others’ attention. If you think others will promote you, you are wrong. Even if you deserve it, they won’t. Whenever, howsoever small, a possibility of a chance exists, grab it; now you have that chance thrust onto you. Make the best of it.

It was like a chance lightning on a dark rainy night showing the lost traveller the right road to take. He recollected what had happened, he recounted what words his master had said in his honour, he revised how he had narrated the incidence earlier, and to make it interesting, how he should have.

Thereafter with every re-telling of the incident, his narration had sounded increasingly interesting. He chose more effective words more confidently as the time passed. With his uncle to support and guide him, he almost made a legend of himself.

By the time they reached the outskirts of Hastinapur, his legend had preceded him.

They welcomed Prince Shakuni in the capital with due respect and honour reserved for a very honoured close relative. He was a dear brother of the queen, Gandhari; no ordinary state guest. King Dhritarashtra, after the normal courtesies of inquiring how the journey had been and receiving the gifts brought by the brother-in-law asked his son, prince Duryodhan, to disburse the sweets and the upkeep moneys to the members of the entourage. Shakuni himself was gifted choicest silks, gold crowns, armlets, necklaces and a contingent of male and female attendants. The King had reserved a huge part of a vantage palace-wing for his stay. Gandhari was so thrilled by his visit. Before he retired to his quarters, he wished the king the best of health and happiness, and assured his sister he was always available for her at every, and at the very instance she needed him.

He did not forget to mention to his nephews that Kandha, his pet personal attendant, because of whose valour he had survived a certain brush with death, should be well awarded for all that he had done.

*************

WHEN her chambermaid announced that there was a road-showman performing right under the canopy of mansion’s front facade, Sulakshana found the news interesting. She took the nearest staircase leading to the upper floor; on the way, taking every note of the cleanliness of the place, its tidiness, decking up and the lingering perfume. Happy that everything was as it should have been, she majestically strolled through the carpeted corridors leading to the balcony. Not the one to tolerate anything that wasn’t perfect, she was a class apart, and that was what had endeared her to her worthy patrons.

That is a nice young boy; a man nearly. She measured up the tough, sinewy, curly haired athlete who was passing on to the crowd, a brass plate for them to inspect and confirm that there were no cracks, cuts or joints in it. The metal piece was a work of a metal sheet hammered into a rimless, shallow bowl, a good four fingers deep.

Sulakshana knew what would come next. He would do it, tear the plate in two pieces with nothing but his fingers. His father did that. Or was it his uncle? The boy looked so much like the performer she had seen in Meghala years ago.

There were other things on her mind. She looked toward her chief chambermaid standing nearby. The genteel matron read from her mistress’s face, how much he was to be awarded for the feat when accomplished.

Where does he hail from? I am curious the mistress half-muttered as she turned around to get back to her inner, secluded private quarters. A bevy of her resident beauties, who had followed her up to the balcony, rose from their seats to follow her as if that was what was most urgent and proper. She signalled them to stay back there and watch the fun if they liked. She, after a fleeting half-cocked look at the watching crowd and the performing youth, left.

Baana, as Sulakshana later discovered, was not a son nor a nephew of the man she had seen perform some fifteen odd years ago. The surprise of the surprises, who she found before her was the original man himself. How did he maintain the physique, the look, and the vitality for so long? Were there any new acts added to his famous performances over the years, she wondered.

Yes, there were many; the languages and the speech of the birds and the bees, the cocks and the dogs, the signs and the secret messages of the travellers, fortune tellers and the mendicants, the dialects of the people of tens of adjoining and the far-off countries like Gandhar, Panchal, Matsya, Saurashtra, Sourasen, Madra, Magadha, Sauvira, and others. And, no! He was NOT married. Was never attracted to women, nor men. When Sulakshana heard of it, she at once decided to take up the challenge. I will make him lick my feet on command. Just in one single night!

He had recognized Sulakshana of fifteen years ago in the first and the only glimpse of her he had before tearing the plate. He admitted, he was sad finding her missing from the balcony when, at the end of the act, he had turned in that direction expecting an applause by her. The balcony was without her. The tens of cheering beauties standing there meant nothing to him. He always had, floating in front of him for the whole of the intervening period of the decade and a half, her innocent baby face; her deep dark eyes full of anxiety of seeing him tear the plate. That face he had seen in Meghala had been haunting him. How lucky to find it once again right in Hastinapur! But, looking down from a balcony of such a grand mansion? Among the women wearing the choicest clothes and the fancy ornaments? It’s likely more an illusion than anything else.

When the act was over and the onlookers except some reluctant children left the scene, a comely woman came out from the mansion with a basket of fruits. Another, even more comely, came and gave him a handful of silvers. She softly said, Our mistress has requested you to come in for a while.

There cannot be any mistake! It IS the very same face. They both had the same thought at the same time. Sulakshana was the first to recover and ask him in her loving voice, Be my guest; rest here a while. Choose the room you like, choose the food you prefer. You are welcome even to choose a friend you take a fancy to. Choose from here whatever you want. I am so glad to find a man from my home region. It had been a long time since I met someone as close as you. Enjoy. Will you please be my guest?

She wasn’t an illusion after all.

OH, yes. I do remember. The officers of the state picked me from the crematorium on the night of the full moon when I had gone there to see if the fire from my wife’s pyre had died. Sudev, the thin old Brahmin, at last, decided to open his mouth to say something. If he hadn’t, he would have suffered unspeakable physical excesses; that was told to him in no uncertain words.

Why did you have to check that? The questioner already knew the answer to that one; he was only re-checking.

Sudev tried to be as earnest as possible, I wanted to ensure if her body had fully burnt. I believed, if it had, there would be no clues about whether she died a natural death or was killed, He expected a direct admission of guilt to be more advantageous.

Killed? Who killed her? Did you? The questioner didn’t even half expect an answer. He continued without a pause, If someone had found out what you did, what then?

The death-sentence, no doubt about that. He continued, And now, I wish, they had put me to death at that very moment! All the torture I suffered at the hands of those men who eventually granted me the freedom – the freedom to suffer lifelong indignity, insecurity and uncertainty, actually! – ; the thought sends shivers down my spine!

You seem to be happy to be alive. How did they find you? The questioner sounded very sincere and interested in knowing the real story, and that was why Sudev, with full enthusiasm responded, To tell you the truth, my neighbours tipped the officers who caught me that night. I strongly suspected that. They, the neighbours I mean, had all along, pretended to be my truest friends as long as I offered them the free drinks. When once my wife appealed to them, they deserted me and went over to her side. They believed every bit of what she told them. Sudev waited to take a long breath, and also to see how his listener was taking to it. He cleared his throat for a better effect and continued,

She was a whore I tell you. She always looked at the other men amorously, always cited the example of the Pandava queen, Draupadi. See how those men share her without a complaint!" she would nudge and taunt me. ‘You are not equal to them; you are not equal to even a fifth part of them. What is your objection if I take another man as a husband? I can, and I WILL. I will marry three more and make five of you share me!’ She would often say that. The bitch! As if I wasn’t a man enough! I tell you, I have had tens of women satisfied by me in a single night.

I told her a thousand times not to quote Draupadi. Told her, ‘She is different. She is the queen. It may be alright with them but, it is not all right with us.’ On that she would ask, ‘Who are ‘us’, and who, ‘them’?’ When I shouted into her deaf ears, ‘Those people are the ruler clan and Kshatriyas; we are the intellectual clan, the Brahmins!’ she would say, ‘But, in front of the God and the ‘hole’, everyone is the same. Isn’t it?’ She was that kind of woman. I suffered her for years, and when it became impossible to put up with her any longer, I had to get rid of her. And that I did.

Sudev thought, he had made an impressive statement that would go down the interrogator’s throat smoothly. He wanted to impress upon him further with what he thought was an impeccable argument, Tell me, and is it a crime to remove the bad elements from the face of the Mother Earth forever? I am sure, if I was a moneyed or a royal, I would have been let off without a question. Your stupid laws! They are different for different people. I have said that a thousand times, and repeat it even now.

Sudev paused to judge what impression he had made on the interrogator. Finding it wasn’t any great, he took another stand, And just now it has occurred to me that I was, in fact, arrested for sounding aloud this unpalatable opinion of mine. The supposed reason given for my arrest,‘ the murder of a woman’ was only a ruse to smother the free thought of the free thinking citizens.

Even that didn’t seem to impress the interrogator. Sudev then decided to tell all. The thing he had not told his interrogators until then. I think, those officers thought, I could be useful to them someday, and that was why they let me off. he said.

Go on, you learned man. Tell me more. You were arrested for your wife’s murder and later, let off. What next? From what followed, the officer found nothing new by interrogating that onetime murderer. He had not been as useful as was expected of him in return of the pardon granted to him.

"Let off! Yes. That was what I thought, but actually I wasn’t let off; I was hooked. In the early years after the pardon, I was told to meet someone at a certain temple every day at dawn. That was nothing particularly taxing, really. But, at the given hour I found no one there. The same thing happened for three consecutive days. On the fourth, I decided to give it a miss. At noon I was about to take