Traditions of Dead Generations

Round Four - Manipura, Pt. 2

The king's ratha was magnificent. The wealth of Manipura was legendary, and in full display on the king's arms: gemstones studded the rim of the ratha's gold-plated box, lined the spokes of the two large wheels, and peppered the yoke, harness, and chariot-pole. The ratha's two white horses were dressed in richly-embroidered armour of gold hung with red tassels. Chitrangada had advised him to carry treasure with him in his van to offer to Prince Arjuna his father, and though Babrunahana carried with him the ornately-carved bow of his ancestors and a brace of strong-shafted arrows, he flew a flag of peace in the place of his fierce gold lion standard, and had invited with him wise Brahmanas, rather than warriors, to honour the great man.

But Babrunahana returned shortly after in a rage, demanding to speak with his mother. Chitrangada hastily went to him, noting the embarrassed look the Brahmanas wore, and that the ratha was still laden with tribute. The morning sun beat down on the scorched yard, and Chitrangada had servants bring the king drink to calm and cool him.

"He has insulted me!" Babrunahana cried, pulling off his heavy crown, throwing it angrily at an attendant and taking a proffered drink, "The great windbag called me a woman! He said my conduct was not becoming, that I was shirking my Kshatriya duties!"

"Kshatriya?" Chitrangada had to jog to keep up with her tall son as he stormed angrily into the palace. She had suspected Arjuna would not appreciate being kept outside the city, but surely he did not truly expect her son to take up arms against him?

"He has come with my uncle's sacrificial horse for Ashvamedha. He has come within my dominion: I should fight him, not welcome him with gifts." Babrunahana sneered, gesturing at the treasure-laden ratha. "I will show him a fight. Matha! My armour! We will return-"

"Raj-ji! Son, stop, please, speak with me a little." Chitrangada spoke reasonably, though she was beginning to feel panic in her belly. The boy could not fight Arjuna. He was only fifteen. He could barely grow a moustache.

The king halted abruptly and turned towards her impatiently. He was furious with her, she could see. And why shouldn't he be? He had been so excited to meet Arjuna, the hero who was his father. He had been so proud. The prince had thrown his disapproval in Babrunahana's face, citing some obscure point of Vedic law to cloak the insult. Chitrangada could see that nothing she could say would sooth the boy's pride, or help cushion the disappointment. 

"Yes, you must challnge him," she began slowly, "but not now. Your father wishes to see you have become a fine warrior, not a peacock. Let your men prepare your ratha of war. Your arrows will need to be trimmed and tipped. And do not fight him in this heat. Use the sun to your advantage - wait until nightfall. Prepare, my son, so that you might give him a fight that will show him your mettle."

No young man wants to be counselled to patience, but Babrunahana finally shrugged his compliance. Chitrangada smiled at him and excused herself, pleading that she needed to retire until the day cooled off. Her sandals snapped against the hardwood floors as she circled the palace and slipped out the servant's door, making for the forest beyond the city wall. 

"Chitri!" Viyati's voice came from the shadow of the wall, "Jan, where are you going?"

"What?" Chitrangada startled to see the man already, "What are you doing, prowling around the palace like a tiger? Should you not be with the prince?"

"I followed Babrunahana," Viyati emerged from behind a lodhra, armed with a bow. "I feared the boy might do something rash."

"As you should." Chitrangada could not stop herself from being short with him. "He should not have angered Arjuna by keeping him outside! I can not restrain him from challenging the prince now!" Viyati raised his chin, but said nothing. "My son will risk himself so that you could see me shut up like a prize in a box!"

"A son should protect his mother's modesty-" Viyati began.

"He does not even know that is what he does!" she hissed at him, angry now. "I will go to Arjuna and apologise. I will beg for Babrunahana's life if I must!" You know what kind of apology he will want, she wanted to say, but she held back that cruelty.

"Arjuna will not kill the boy, Chitri! His last son!" Viyati sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of his own words.

"That may be, sri, but Babrunahana will certainly try to kill Arjuna, the mood he is in! He's a rash boy, Viyati, and a king! Don't you remember what it is like? There will be blood," Chitrangada felt her throat constrict, "I know it." Viyati saw the blood leave her face and took a step towards her with his arms outstretched, but Chitrangada shrunk back. "Don't," she whispered, "I have to go try to save my son."

"You can't go to him!" Viyati took another step towards her, insistent, "I cannot see you at his side! Chitri!" Chitrangada looked away. "Please! Come with me instead. Introduce me to the boy. I can help him. Perhaps..."

"He will challenge Arjuna at nightfall unless I placate the prince."

"Chitri, the boy must fight. It is law that he should do so. I can help him fight well, according to dharma. Nobody need die." Chitrangada took a step sideways, and Viyati moved into her path again. "I won't let any harm come to him, Chirti-jan. He is my son. Let me be at your side and I will watch over you both."

Chitrangada felt a warm buzz ripple over her skin. Could it be so simple? She longed to believe Viyati could ward away her husband as if he were an arrow to be deflected. She considered pulling away from him but the heat, his proximity, and the fantasy of family were cloying. Her feet did not go when she willed them to, and she welcomed Viyati's arms when he closed in on her.

"I will teach my boy a thing or two," he murmured into her hair as he drew her back to the palace, "I have not fought for twenty years with the great Arjuna for nothing. Babrunahana will impress him, and Arjuna will be glad to see his last son is worthy of him. You will see."

Chitrangada nodded, mute. She was already hypnotized by the touch of his fingers and the purr of his voice. Her son's father.