Read Online The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
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I thought. Then he said, “If he should come, if he should win, what a great victory it will be for Panchaal!”
I didn't like the sound of that. “What do you mean, for Panchaal?”
“Don't you see?” Krishna said. “Once he's married to you, Arjun can't fight against your father. He can never be Drona's ally again.”
My mouth filled with ashes. How foolish I'd been, dreaming of love when I was nothing but a worm dangled at the end of a fishing pole.
“Father designed the test to lure Arjun to Panchaal, didn't he?” I said. “Because he'd been defeated by Arjun, he couldn't send a marriage proposal directly to him without losing face. But theswayamvar—it's the perfect opportunity! He knew a warrior like Arjun wouldn't be able to resist such a challenge. Power—that's all he cares about, not his children.” I'd long suspected this. Still, I was surprised at how much it rankled to articulate it.
“Panchaali,” Dhri started, “that's not true!”
“Why won't you ever admit the truth?” I spoke bitterly. “We're nothing but pawns for King Drupad to sacrifice when it's most to his advantage. At least I'm just going to be married off. You—he's willing to push you to your death just so he can have his revenge.”
As soon as I'd said the words I was sorry—and not only because Dhri looked as though I'd slapped him. Dhai Ma said one could call up a man's death by speaking of it. Had I brought my brother bad luck because I couldn't control my tongue? I said a quick prayer for his safety though I wasn't much for praying.
Krishna touched my shoulder. “Your father isn't as heartless as he seems, my dear. He's just convinced that your happiness lies in being the wife of Bharat's greatest hero. And for Dhri, he's convinced his happiness lies in avenging the honor of his family.”
Even as Krishna spoke, I seemed to smell blood and burning. I was ashamed of my petty worries. The future that awaited Dhri was so much worse than anything I'd ever have to face! I wondered if it would break him or harden him, and which would be worse. I wondered if I'd prayed for the wrong thing.
“As for being pawns,” Krishna was saying, “aren't we all pawns in the hands of Time, the greatest player of them all?”
At night I considered what Krishna had revealed, and why he'd pricked the bubble of my romance no sooner than it had formed. He was trying to teach me something. Was it to be aware of the dark motivations that lay behind seemingly benign actions? Was it to notlet myself be carried away by emotion, to see myself instead as part of a larger political design that would affect the fate of Bharat? Was it to teach me how to wear the armor of caution so that no one could reach past it to break my heart?
Important lessons, no doubt. But I was a woman, and I had to practice them—as Sikhandi had suggested—in my own way. I would approach the problem aslant. No matter what my father's intention, I could still make Arjun's heart beat faster. I could still influence how he thought. Perhaps Time was the master player. But within the limits allowed to humans in this world the sages called unreal , I would be a player, too.
8
One morning, the sorceress arrived.
But why do I call her that? She looked no different from the women who sold their wares in the marketplace, with the pleats of her blue sari tucked, peasant fashion, between her legs. A faint smell of salted fish wafted from her.
“Who are you?” Dhai Ma demanded. “How did you get past the guards?”
She had a star tattooed onto her chin and muscled arms with which she moved Dhai Ma—not ungently—out of her way. Dhai Ma stared, her mouth agape at the woman's effrontery. I expected her to shout for the sentry or berate the woman with her usual belligerence, but she did neither.
“I've been sent,” the sorceress said to me, “to fill some of the bigger gaps in your largely useless education.”
I didn't protest. (Secretly, I agreed with her
I didn't like the sound of that. “What do you mean, for Panchaal?”
“Don't you see?” Krishna said. “Once he's married to you, Arjun can't fight against your father. He can never be Drona's ally again.”
My mouth filled with ashes. How foolish I'd been, dreaming of love when I was nothing but a worm dangled at the end of a fishing pole.
“Father designed the test to lure Arjun to Panchaal, didn't he?” I said. “Because he'd been defeated by Arjun, he couldn't send a marriage proposal directly to him without losing face. But theswayamvar—it's the perfect opportunity! He knew a warrior like Arjun wouldn't be able to resist such a challenge. Power—that's all he cares about, not his children.” I'd long suspected this. Still, I was surprised at how much it rankled to articulate it.
“Panchaali,” Dhri started, “that's not true!”
“Why won't you ever admit the truth?” I spoke bitterly. “We're nothing but pawns for King Drupad to sacrifice when it's most to his advantage. At least I'm just going to be married off. You—he's willing to push you to your death just so he can have his revenge.”
As soon as I'd said the words I was sorry—and not only because Dhri looked as though I'd slapped him. Dhai Ma said one could call up a man's death by speaking of it. Had I brought my brother bad luck because I couldn't control my tongue? I said a quick prayer for his safety though I wasn't much for praying.
Krishna touched my shoulder. “Your father isn't as heartless as he seems, my dear. He's just convinced that your happiness lies in being the wife of Bharat's greatest hero. And for Dhri, he's convinced his happiness lies in avenging the honor of his family.”
Even as Krishna spoke, I seemed to smell blood and burning. I was ashamed of my petty worries. The future that awaited Dhri was so much worse than anything I'd ever have to face! I wondered if it would break him or harden him, and which would be worse. I wondered if I'd prayed for the wrong thing.
“As for being pawns,” Krishna was saying, “aren't we all pawns in the hands of Time, the greatest player of them all?”
At night I considered what Krishna had revealed, and why he'd pricked the bubble of my romance no sooner than it had formed. He was trying to teach me something. Was it to be aware of the dark motivations that lay behind seemingly benign actions? Was it to notlet myself be carried away by emotion, to see myself instead as part of a larger political design that would affect the fate of Bharat? Was it to teach me how to wear the armor of caution so that no one could reach past it to break my heart?
Important lessons, no doubt. But I was a woman, and I had to practice them—as Sikhandi had suggested—in my own way. I would approach the problem aslant. No matter what my father's intention, I could still make Arjun's heart beat faster. I could still influence how he thought. Perhaps Time was the master player. But within the limits allowed to humans in this world the sages called unreal , I would be a player, too.
8
One morning, the sorceress arrived.
But why do I call her that? She looked no different from the women who sold their wares in the marketplace, with the pleats of her blue sari tucked, peasant fashion, between her legs. A faint smell of salted fish wafted from her.
“Who are you?” Dhai Ma demanded. “How did you get past the guards?”
She had a star tattooed onto her chin and muscled arms with which she moved Dhai Ma—not ungently—out of her way. Dhai Ma stared, her mouth agape at the woman's effrontery. I expected her to shout for the sentry or berate the woman with her usual belligerence, but she did neither.
“I've been sent,” the sorceress said to me, “to fill some of the bigger gaps in your largely useless education.”
I didn't protest. (Secretly, I agreed with her
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