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In the horrors of war, I had seen enough darkness to fill many lifetimes. I had seen prosperous towns being plundered, trails of gold coins crisscrossing blotches of blood. Proud and unarmed soldiers, who should have been captured and convinced to join us, had been speared in frenzy, their heads crushed under elephants in an organized massacre. In the blindness of bloodlust, weapons flew in any direction, killing men.  | | | Publisher: Rupa Publications / Price: Rs 395 | | Mostly, it is the bloodlust that doesn't go even after battle. Kshatriyas work themselves up to this lust and only the sounds of swords slicing flesh, spears tearing organs, maces cracking skulls can quench this thirst. That's why before any battle, there is a long lull where kings and their advisors try to move towards peace. But what Kunti proposed that hot afternoon was cold-blooded murder. The slaughter of innocent people. No different from what they were escaping from. Quite like what Duryodhan and Purochan had planned. Perhaps worse. I was in the tunnel, discussing exit strategies with Bhim in very low light-the ventilators were feeble and the air had to be preserved. We were testing the tunnels for ease of escape, airflow and looking out for manoeuvres around narrow ridges, clearing the path for stones and rubble, smoothening out the uneven floor. I had asked for the trapdoor in the palace to be left open as far as possible so that fresh air could flow through the crude gradient I had prepared in the tunnel. We were thirsty. 'Come to the palace, Surangraj,' Bhim said, the whites of his big, bright eyes shining over a chubby face, perspiring with strain. 'My throat feels like sand, lets have some lime water.' 'All right.' This giant was completely focused on eating and fighting, with no other sentiment in him. No greed for power like Duryodhan. No seductive skills that women swooned over like Arjun. No deeper pockets to his personality like Sahadev. No time to waste on dignity like Yudhishtir. No love or empathy for horses like Nakul. He was an innocent giant, with just the protection of the family on his mind and longing for his brother to sit on the Kuru throne. Nothing else. Not a speck of ill-will, except that which was reserved for Duryodhan and Shakuni. And now, for Purochan. In his later years, this would grow to include Dushasan and Karn. 'Come, brother,' Arjun offered his arm to Bhim and pulled him out. In turn, Bhim lifted me, almost wrenching my shoulder. Such amazing power. The light from outside hit me. It was still the fourth prahar of the day and the doors of this inner chamber opened into the four walls outside, three of which had wide windows. I closed my eyes, pulled out my veil and wound it around, twice. A sense of grim brooding greeted us. Suddenly, the air in the tunnel below seemed lighter than this room's. Nakul tried to lighten it. 'You're just on time, Bhim. We were preparing our exit.' Bhim's eyes opened wider. 'You were preparing an exit without me?' he asked with a mock hurt in his voice. 'But first we need two pots of lime water.' He turned to Nakul. 'Can you ask someone to get them?' I sat in a corner and looked at the room. Everything was the same as I had left. But in the inner recesses of our beings, we could feel the discomfort, the disharmony. Sitting next to Kunti, even Urvashi's otherwise clear and smooth brow was furrowed. An expression of helplessness underlined her now perpetually calm face. Sahadev sat at Kunti's feet, looking away. Arjun was running his fingers on the scars of his arms, trying to hide his face. Yudhishtir, his hand behind his neck, stared into the distance. Nobody was looking at anyone. Except Kunti. Completely poised, steady as a warrior, her presence had an iron-edge. You needed a mace to break the thick tension in the room. Bhim provided that. 'Give him a vessel,' Bhim told Nakul, pointing at me, raising the earthenware out in the air, tilting it and drinking the lime water in loud gulps. By the time Nakul had finished filling the silver vessel, I was by his side, 'Thanks Prince.' He smiled gently and walked back to sit by his twin's side. 'What is the problem?' Bhim asked over a burp, half a pot down. When nobody answered, Yudhishtir raised his chin towards Arjun, asking him to speak. 'I'm not in favour of running away. We should fight for our lives. That's the way of the Kshatriya,' Arjun paused. 'I agreed to escaping, because of you,' he looked at Yudhishtir and then turned his gaze on Kunti.' But this is murder. Every cell of my body says ''no'' 'What murder?' Bhim said. 'Will someone tell me clearly what's happening?' He gulped down the first pot loudly, wiped his face with the back of his powerful hand, waited for a burp that refused to come and left his brow knotted with irritation. 'Mother says we need to leave bodies behind, when we escape', said Nakul. 'Bodies?' Bhim put the pot aside, eyeing the second one. 'Where are we going to get bodies from?' Four terrible words filled the silence. 'Damayanti and her sons.' We turned towards the voice. Kunti. The terror of her words hit only later from the implied meaning. That she could say it so simply was stunning. Her eyes were expressionless. Nt unlike the command of death-lord Yam. So matter-of-fact that for a moment I thought I hadn't heard the words right. A wave of cold passed through the room and everyone stayed frozen. 'What?' It seemed even Bhim couldn't believe the words. He held the second pot in his hands, now unmoving. 'That's right Bhim,' she said, her expression unchanged. She took a moment to gather herself. 'f we are to live we need to show that one woman and five men have died. Otherwise, nobody will believe it. Duryodhan wants a body count, not just a fire or words. By giving him this Nishad family, we will ensure our freedom.' This was the first time I gave my complete attention to Kunti. Still a habdsome woman, you could call her attractive in her own way, though the toll of life had extracted much out of her. First, as the wife of Pandu, a king who as extending the domain of Kuru kingdom, she had travelled and seen more battlefields than rooms in the luxury of palaces. Then, she had to fight for Pandu's attention alongside the younger abnd exceedingly beautiful Madri. The harsh life in the forest followed. And then, after Pandu's untimely death, she was back in the palace, negotiating intrigue lurking in every moment, around every corner. There had been also these young children to look after. It was admirable that she was still sane. A weaker woman or man, would have fallen low. BBhim looked at Yudhishtir, almost pleading for sanity. 'But that's murder,' Yudhistir said, quietly. 'It makes us no different from Duryodhan.' 'What do all of you feel?' she lashed her eyes on the children, one by one, 'Does any one of you have a better way? Anyone has a safer option?' Bhim and Arjun looked at her, then lowered their gaze. 'And you, Badri,' she turned to me. 'Is there another route to our safety?' 'To be honest, I haven't thought about it, queen', I mumbled softly, looking into my silver vessel of lime water, my throat suddenly dry. I felt my hand shake. In all my minute lanning, how did I oversee this? I didn't know what to say, how to react. Her eyes pressed against my chest, pushing me over the moral edge. 'Then think', she hissed, turning around the room. 'All of you. If you can find a better way, I'll be happy to walk on it. But remember,' her tone sharpened, her breath shorter,'after we escape from Varanavat, neither Duryodhan nor his spies must follow us. Hastinapur should do the customary pretence of grieving for us. We should be believed,' she stressed on the word,' to be dead.' (See interview: Mahabharat retold through the eyes of a commoner )
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