Traditions of Dead Generations

Round Four - Manipura, Pt. 3

She watched them train from the shade of her rooms. Babrunahana had been so pleased to meet a veteran of Kurukshetra that he had not questioned where this warrior had come from and why. Viyati had him practicing his archery, teaching the king's chariot-driver new maneuvers for the boy to learn his footing on. They were both wet with sweat and so caked with dust that they seemed to be a matching pair of Sadhu. 

"He fights well," her maid, Kathshi, remarked, replacing the water of her footbath. Chitrangada nodded, her eyes fixed on Viyati. He had learned at the knee of the great Drona, just as Arjuna had. He could hit a falling seedpod from a hundred paces. He could guide a ratha through a herd of panicked elephants. He could climb to the rail of her third-floor balcony with only the light of her eyes to guide him. "His father will be proud to see what a warrior he has become." Kathshi added. His father already is, Chitrangada thought.

Chitrangada arranged to have Viyati join them for supper as the king's military entourage was assembled. He sat at their son's side, careful not to touch him, but beaming proudly nonetheless. How can they not see the resemblance? she thought. Washed, oiled and marked for battle, Babrunahana could have been Viyati come again to Manipura for the first time.

"The horse being used for the Ashvamedha is grazing to the east of the camp, close to the stream," Viyati advised the king as Babrunahana waited for the last of his arrows to be loaded into the car. "Go there and try to capture it. Arjuna will take your meaning and come to defend the animal. You will have your fight. Do as we have practiced, and you will wound him. He will rejoice if you can draw blood. That will satisfy Kshatriya beyond a doubt."

Chitrangada watched as Babrunahana nodded, and hoisted his battle standard: a golden lion on a blood-red field. He stepped into the ratha and the driver whipped the horses. They flew out the gate towards the stream, as Viyati had suggested.

Chitrangada ran to the gate and watched her son roll out of sight with a knot in her chest. She glanced nervously at Viyati, but the man had vanished, along with the rest of her son's train. Truly, the lawn was now empty except for two maids attending her. They all three watched the gate nervously, as women so often had to do. Now we wait, Chitrangada thought. 

Chitrangada would not leave the lawn, and sat instead by the altars erected in the southern gardens. The smell of incense and pushkara was thick and distracting, but she willed herself to trust her son to Viyati's - and Arjuna's - hands. In the distance she could hear cries of men, but playfull ones, as if they were at a game or sport. Occasionally a raised voice would startle her and she would jump to her feet, but no news came for what seemed like hours. She had lanterns lit, and waited still.

"Begum!" Chitrangada was at the end of her patience by the time the servant came running, calling for her. "The fight is ended! The king has done you great honour - he has blooded his father, the Prince Arjuna!" Chitrangada and her maids all stood then, anxious for more news. Chitrangada looked over the man's shoulder.

"Where are they? Who comes? What has happened?" She could not hear horses, or the cheers of victorious men. This servant was alone.

"Begum-ji, it was a glorious fight! Our young king fired a hundred arrows at the moon, and pierced Prince Arjuna's ratha with at least half of them, though the Prince knocked the shafts from the air with his bow! The driver turned this way and that, zagging like a snake, until finally King Babrunahana's shaft pierced the prince's shoulder, pfft!" The servant had prostrated himself to give the news, but had already raised himself onto his knees to act out the battle in his excitement. "The Prince Arjuna laughed, Begum! He said he was glad to see his son was a warrior after all."