Read Online Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles) by Krishna Udayasankar - Free Book Online
Authors: Krishna Udayasankar
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much as
we do!’
‘And then? After the wedding?’
The scholar did not answer the query. Instead, he questioned, ‘What do you know of the training of wild beasts, Sanjaya?’
‘Acharya?’
‘When a tiger is first captured by trappers,’ Dwaipayana said, ‘it’ll refuse to eat when fed in its cage because the beast
is driven by its instinct to hunt. Some tigers eventually starve and die. Others break; they begin eating the meat that is
fed them. Once that happens, even if you release the animal from its cage it won’t hunt. Instead, it’ll wait to be fed. Only
then is it fit for use in a carnival, for it is tame and domesticated, and the hunter within has been lulled into impotence.
It can’t hunt anymore, or inspire terror or awe, and it becomes nothing more than a pet, a joke even. And so it is with men
like Govinda. If he is to be of any use to us, we must let him and everyone else believe that he acts of his own will.’
The Elder sat down in his customary place on the large porch that fronted his hut. He slowly crossed his legs into the lotus
posture, relishing the simple pleasure of sitting down on the well-worn mat that was his own. ‘Does it amaze you, my son,
that I can be so cold, so ruthless? Do I seem like a vengeful old fool to you?’
Sanjaya looked at his teacher with undisguised adoration. ‘The enlightened, civilized man rears animals, treats them with
kindness and tends them as best he can. Scholars and rulers nurture the common man the way he nurtures his herds. And just
as man decides what fodder must be given, what ploughing must be done and even purges the herd of sick beasts, so must men
such as yourself herd us all towards the divine light.’
He knelt down, bringing himself face to face with Dwaipayana. In a soft voice he urged, ‘Such is your sacred duty. If the
very animal that you tenderly raised from a youngling threatens to destroy the herd with its sickness, it can’t be spared.
It must be killed. And sometimes it is the best of beasts that must be offered as a sacred sacrifice. But I still have one
last question …’
‘Hmm?’
‘The matter of Ghora Angirasa’s murder …’
Dwaipayana’s smile was mysterious. ‘The Wrights had a law, Sanjaya. They said the Secret Keeper had to die for another to
take his place.’
‘So whoever killed Ghora …’
‘Is a deadly enemy. One we can’t afford to ignore. If Govinda Shauri is what it takes to divert this man’s attention or perhaps
to stand between us and all these dangers,’ the Vyasa solemnly declared, ‘then so be it.’
7
GOVINDA SAT UP WITH A START IN HIS MAKESHIFT BED, PRODDED awake by some deeper intuition, and looked around the small, misty clearing. He and Yuyudhana were in the forest bordering
Surasena, the kingdom that had once belonged to Govinda’s forefathers. It was now in the hands of Emperor Jarasandha, who
used it as a base to control the central and western reaches of his Empire. But Govinda knew it took more than just being
in enemy territory to induce the prickling sensation on his neck. The peril was much more immediate. He remained still, listening
to the muted jungle sounds around him. Soon, he heard the soft but unmistakeable tread of heavy boots.
Soldiers!
Govinda was on his feet at once. Yuyudhana was missing, but the horses were still where the men had tethered them, trained
to be as silent as spirits.
He must have headed towards the road
, Govinda surmised, noticing his companion’s light tracks. But the soldiers, he judged, were approaching from the other direction.
With a quick check on his sword-belt, he went deeper into the forest, moving stealthily. Soon he spotted his quarry, thanks
to the light of the still-resplendent setting moon. Three soldiers, of the Emperor’s Western Battalion by their uniform, were
trying to trace the tracks he and Yuyudhana had left the previous night.
There was something else, too. Not danger,
we do!’
‘And then? After the wedding?’
The scholar did not answer the query. Instead, he questioned, ‘What do you know of the training of wild beasts, Sanjaya?’
‘Acharya?’
‘When a tiger is first captured by trappers,’ Dwaipayana said, ‘it’ll refuse to eat when fed in its cage because the beast
is driven by its instinct to hunt. Some tigers eventually starve and die. Others break; they begin eating the meat that is
fed them. Once that happens, even if you release the animal from its cage it won’t hunt. Instead, it’ll wait to be fed. Only
then is it fit for use in a carnival, for it is tame and domesticated, and the hunter within has been lulled into impotence.
It can’t hunt anymore, or inspire terror or awe, and it becomes nothing more than a pet, a joke even. And so it is with men
like Govinda. If he is to be of any use to us, we must let him and everyone else believe that he acts of his own will.’
The Elder sat down in his customary place on the large porch that fronted his hut. He slowly crossed his legs into the lotus
posture, relishing the simple pleasure of sitting down on the well-worn mat that was his own. ‘Does it amaze you, my son,
that I can be so cold, so ruthless? Do I seem like a vengeful old fool to you?’
Sanjaya looked at his teacher with undisguised adoration. ‘The enlightened, civilized man rears animals, treats them with
kindness and tends them as best he can. Scholars and rulers nurture the common man the way he nurtures his herds. And just
as man decides what fodder must be given, what ploughing must be done and even purges the herd of sick beasts, so must men
such as yourself herd us all towards the divine light.’
He knelt down, bringing himself face to face with Dwaipayana. In a soft voice he urged, ‘Such is your sacred duty. If the
very animal that you tenderly raised from a youngling threatens to destroy the herd with its sickness, it can’t be spared.
It must be killed. And sometimes it is the best of beasts that must be offered as a sacred sacrifice. But I still have one
last question …’
‘Hmm?’
‘The matter of Ghora Angirasa’s murder …’
Dwaipayana’s smile was mysterious. ‘The Wrights had a law, Sanjaya. They said the Secret Keeper had to die for another to
take his place.’
‘So whoever killed Ghora …’
‘Is a deadly enemy. One we can’t afford to ignore. If Govinda Shauri is what it takes to divert this man’s attention or perhaps
to stand between us and all these dangers,’ the Vyasa solemnly declared, ‘then so be it.’
7
GOVINDA SAT UP WITH A START IN HIS MAKESHIFT BED, PRODDED awake by some deeper intuition, and looked around the small, misty clearing. He and Yuyudhana were in the forest bordering
Surasena, the kingdom that had once belonged to Govinda’s forefathers. It was now in the hands of Emperor Jarasandha, who
used it as a base to control the central and western reaches of his Empire. But Govinda knew it took more than just being
in enemy territory to induce the prickling sensation on his neck. The peril was much more immediate. He remained still, listening
to the muted jungle sounds around him. Soon, he heard the soft but unmistakeable tread of heavy boots.
Soldiers!
Govinda was on his feet at once. Yuyudhana was missing, but the horses were still where the men had tethered them, trained
to be as silent as spirits.
He must have headed towards the road
, Govinda surmised, noticing his companion’s light tracks. But the soldiers, he judged, were approaching from the other direction.
With a quick check on his sword-belt, he went deeper into the forest, moving stealthily. Soon he spotted his quarry, thanks
to the light of the still-resplendent setting moon. Three soldiers, of the Emperor’s Western Battalion by their uniform, were
trying to trace the tracks he and Yuyudhana had left the previous night.
There was something else, too. Not danger,
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