Disclaimer: This chapter does not claim any reference to the original Mahabharat. It is a sequence inspired from the T.V. serial Suryaputra Karn. This however, has a slightly greater historical basis than the one in SPK.
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When he snuck into the house for dinner, his father gave him a sharp look, but surprisingly enough, left it at that. Shon raised his head from his meal, took one look at his defeated countenance, and promptly began chattering with their father, talking about everything and nothing. Radheya was incredibly grateful for it. When his mother sat down after serving them all, she caught his eye and gave a questioning look. However Radheya stubbornly refused to share the cause of his agony. It was only after he had settled in with his brother tucked to his side in their meagre bed that Shon spoke up, his voice a quiet murmur, "Bhaiyya? What happened? "
Radheya stiffened and did not answer. Shon understood. He scooted closer to Radheya and snuggled into his arms, nosing around his neck, tickling him. Radheya let out a huffing sound that could or could not have been a laugh. They curled together and fell asleep. For the first time that day, Radheya felt at peace.
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Nothing really happened after that. Radheya hid Kripa aacharya's letter of recommendation in the farthest corner of their hayloft bedroom and went fooling around with his friends. Ashwatthama tiptoed around him for several days, aware of what his father had said, until Radheya snapped at him and told him to suck it up, and accept that he was not responsible for his father's conduct. Ashwatthama had said, with an inordinate amount of gratitude, "Thanks." And Radheya had promptly shattered the moment by proclaiming, "If your father ever did something good, mark you, that doesn't count in your favour."
Neither of the twins, nor Eklavya knew what had happened, though the odd glance thrown his way when they thought he wasn't looking, made him doubt the statement. Only Shon behaved like he had always done, looking up to him with equal amounts of deification, admiration and (though Radheya would never admit it) exasperation. The days blurred into one another and everyone went about doing what they always did, Ashwatthama helping his father, the twins their mother, and Eklavya trying to keep his tribe together as Shon goofed around. Indeed, the only thing of note that happened after the incident was that the hopeful face wanting to be the world's greatest archer tried becoming the world's best charioteer.
Another development was Radheya's rising resentment of Prince Arjun. He often hung around the Princes' residence in the early morning, when they would just finish their prayers and file in to complete their chores, shower, change, and gather equipment for the day. The very reason for his intrusion was Suyo, with whom their little group had an unlikely friendship. In these visits however, he would often see Prince Arjun, Drona's supposed favorite, and bitterly watch him gain mastery over different facets of archery. Ashwatthama would sometimes sigh and poke him, unhappy with his obsessive rivalry and disdain towards a boy he had truly never met. Radheya would be momentarily remorseful, and then be back at it again. Intellectually, he knew it was not Arjun's fault that Drona was... well Drona, but to see another child younger than him attain so easily what was unavailable to him burned his already broken heart. But then Suyo or one of his brothers would say something and he would forget about it, fondness flushing through him at the sight of the bright young faces.
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A year had passed since the forgettable incident (Radheya refused to call it rejection) with Drona. Now he sat under the noonday sun, cheeks burning with humiliation, as Drona and Kripa impassively watched him from the sidelines, boring into him with their gaze. As if to further his torment, Soumya sat atop his chariot, the very boy who had taunted him the day he had gone to get the letter from Kripa aacharya. He could feel the smugness radiating off him. Shon squirmed in the driver's seat in the chariot next to him, sending him concerned looks from time to time. Radheya ignored all of them, instead scanning his surroundings.
Almost the entire Suta and Kshatriya communities had turned up to see the Junior Chariot Race, which was held every year to find the best young charioteer. Held in two halves, one would be for the Kshatriyas, who would try to earn it as another accolade to flaunt, and the other for the Sutas, who would try to impress their future employers. For over a decade, all Sutas who had won the race had been employed in the Imperial army. Some, like Satyasena bhaiyya and his father, tried again for the Senior Race and ended up becoming the personal charioteer of either the Royal family or some high nobility. Radheya had never participated in it, even though he had been eligible since a year ago. His brother, younger by a year, also debuted this time. People from his colony, crowding to the right and segregated from the Kshatriyas by a rope barrier, looked with avid interest to see what Adhirath's sons would do. Radheya knew that he would be watched more closely than Shon, not only because he was the eldest and his father a past champion, but also because everyone knew of his clandestine desire to learn archery.
On the high podium sat the Grand Regent, magnificent and unearthly in his gravity, sublimity and magnanimity. His glance swept over them all, heavy as lead. Cornets flourished from all sides, and Radheya watched as a servant came up with an unnaturally big, white conch, ceremoniously bowing before him. The announcer, a dark, short, stout, and mustachioed man impatiently waved at the drummer beside him. Immediately, the booming sound of the instrument rolled over the field. The crowd fell silent. In his hand, the whip weighed a ton. Radheya looked around, detached and daunted. Not scared, just daunted, as if he had decided to go to the Himalayas for pilgrimage and realised halfway how difficult the journey was. He did not even hear the announcer call his name, or any of the others. It was only when the constant drumming and cheers stopped that he belatedly looked up to realise that the Grand Regent had lifted up the conch and was moments away from blowing it. He picked up the reins and gripped his whip at the very moment the conch sounded, signifying the start of the contest.
Radheya pulled the reins and the horses shot forward, intent upon the finish line.
Like arrows. Radheya immediately banished the thought.
Seconds into the race, Radheya regretted ever agreeing to drive Soumya, who was now jumping up and down on the chariot like a monkey, nearly turning it over in his excitement. Radheya tugged the reins, veering the vehicle to the right, and overtaking someone he barely recognized. Soumya let out an earsplitting shriek and spewed several uncharitable words in the direction of the overtaken lads. The crowd howled. In front of him, Parul kaki's son kept moving his chariot in front of Radheya's, more interested in keeping him behind than overtaking the one in front of him. Racing at the third spot, Radheya counted his options. In that split second of distraction, the chariot they had left behind surged forward, overtaking them, and rushing ahead. Unable to see what was happening, Parul kaki's son swept to the right, thinking that it was Radheya trying to overtake them. The two chariots crashed and rolled forward, taking the one at the second position down with them in a heap of horses and boys. Radheya pulled the reins. His horses leapt over the remnants. The crowd, baying for blood, cheered. He could hear Soumya turn around let out another stream of distinctly filthy words, perhaps accompanied by a crude gesture, at the fallen boys. Having only one opponent before him, Radheya jerked his chariot towards the right in a feint, the one in front of him veered right to block him, and drawing out a wide circle to the left, Radheya overtook him. Inches away from the finishing line, Radheya flicked the horses on their rumps, using the whip for the first time. The horses reared on their hind legs, and in a final burst of speed, broke through the finishing line, tearing the ribbon that demarcated it. Moments later, another chariot followed, and Radheya was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Shon.
"I was first, you feinted," he shouted over the noise of the crowd, the smile on his face betraying his apparent annoyance, even as the boy atop the chariot gestured a congratulations to him. Before Radheya could reply, he stood up on his seat and waved wildly, and Radheya turned to see their parents standing among the mass of people, Adhirath baba and Satyasena's family with a proud smiles and Radha maa with happy tears in her eyes. The moment was broken by Soumya, who leant forward, poked his shoulder, and urged, "A victory lap, suta."
Radheya wanted to hit him, but he noticed his parents, so happy with his victory, and sighed in compliance. It would not do to pick a fight that day. Quietly, he made the horses trot around the field as Soumya bowed grandly to the cheering people, as if he had done something other than jumping on the chariot and making unhelpful comments. When they finished the round, Soumya thankfully stepped down from the chariot. But then, he walked around, right up to Radheya's seat, placed a hand on his shoulder and began condescendingly, "Congratulations, you won."
Radheya gave him a wary look, trying to hide his astonishment. Uncaring, Soumya continued, "Look, all these people are cheering for you. You know why? Because you won. Now, to be what we are born like, and to follow the dharma that has been premeditated by the Trinity Gods is our holy responsibility. Oftentimes, caught in the snare of our pleasures and desires, we forget what our dharma is. You did too, but fear not. You have erred, as is human nature, but you have also righted yourself. You were born a suta, so when you dedicated yourself to Kshatriya customs, you faced defeat. But in this arena, you fulfilled your duty, and behold your prize. Continue on, and then there shall be a day when you shall proudly say that you have driven a great warrior to victory. "
Soumya clapped him on the back and left. But his words sunk into Radheya's skin like rough flakes of dried mud and refused to go. Whatever meagre elation he had felt, evaporated into thin air. He took his reward from the Grand Regent, a small trophy coated gold, and accepted the greetings of friends and family with a detached, numb mind. It was only when Vrishali slipped her hand into his that he looked up. Shon and Vaishali were giggling and skipping ahead.
"What did he say?" Vrishali whispered.
Radheya understood whom she meant. "Nothing" he replied dully.
Vrishali caught his gaze and he knew she knew it was a lie. But she only squeezed his hand. "It's okay", she said and at the sardonic rise of his left eyebrow amended, "It'll be okay."
If only she knew how wrong she would be.
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The next day, Radheya settled on the sandy riverbank beside Shon, who promptly put his head on his lap. Radheya huffed out a laugh and sank his fingers in Shon's hair, carding through it. They sat in comfortable silence, two brothers and a river, until their father butted in, "Shon, come with me, I need help cleaning the stables."
Shon rolled his eyes and made a gagging noise, scrunching up his face. Radheya laughed, "I'll help you baba, leave him be."
Adhirath sighed, an affectionate smile turning up the corners of his lips. "Don't go anywhere alone", he told Shon and together they set off.
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Radheya remembered little of the next prahar. All he remembered was that a bunch of angry Brahmins had summoned them, and that he had followed his apprehensive family (which by default included Vrishali's) with tense anticipation to where they gathered, in front of a temple of a Mahadeva, dressed in saintly saffron and holding a pale, tearful Shon in a death grip, chanting a storm of sins he had apparently committed. Through much screaming on the priests' part and pleading on theirs, he learnt that Shon had allegedly overheard a sacred mantra, the Gayatri, which should have never reached the ears of one who was not a Brahmin or a Kshatriya. Then there was another argument, and the next thing he knew, they were standing before the towering doors of the resplendent palace once more, this time seeking audience from the Emperor himself. Radheya looked at Shon, his brother, huddled among four guards dressed in ceremonial attire and holding long lances ('As if we could run,' Radheya thought bitterly), all of whom were giving them long, mournful looks. Radha maa was crying. Satyasena bhaiyya stood beside Adhirath baba, his hand on his shoulder, lips pale and pressed thinly together. The twins hovered around him, wanting to ask questions but knowing that he had no answers, as their mother tried to console Radha maa. The priests stood apart, straight-backed and grave, with a learned look that was evidently put on. Radheya sneaked towards the nearest guard and mumbled quietly, his head bowed in subservience, "Swami, may I speak to my brother?"
There was no answer. Radheya chanced a look up at their faces and their very countenances spelt doom. For a moment, fear of being whipped for contempt of a civil servant clenched his heart. But then one of them said, "Make it quick."
Radheya hastened to Shon's side, not needing to be told twice. Shon looked up at him and Radheya was surprised to see that despite the tears on his cheeks, he was entirely too calm. When he spoke, his voice grave, cold, and low, chilled Radheya to the bone. "Bhaiyya, " he whispered, "run."
Before Radheya could say something, or ask him what he meant, the gold plated, solemn doors before them parted and one of the guards roughly pushed him out of the circle. A tall, lean man with a glaring pink turban bowed and announced them in. The Brahmins went in first, hands raised in idle blessing to all the courtiers, then they stepped in in a single file, and lastly the guards brought in Shon, dragging him in as if he had committed double murder.
Even in such a distressing situation, even with the speech of Shon's supposed crime hammering his ears, Radheya could only gape at the wealth on display, at the ornaments of the courtiers, at the bejeweled seats where the hundred and five princes and a princess sat (Suyo and several Kauravas waved at him, Sahadev smiled), the sprawling chandelier as big as their home, and the thrones on which the blind Emperor, the blindfolded Empress, the white-clad Dowager and the indomitable Grand Regent sat. He however, snapped back to attention when one of the priests began to speak, "...this miscreant stood by the holy Ashoka tree, under which once the pious mother, the Lakshmi Sita, Queen consort to the great Vishnu Shri Ram, all hail him..." - the Grand Regent banged his elephant-headed armrest in annoyance at this needless chatter and the priest immediately changed the subject - "... had sat in wait of her Lord, there stood this miscreant " - here he pointed an accusatory finger at Shon and the Grand Regent interrupted, glaring, "Is it a crime to stand behind trees?"
The Kaurava faction erupted in giggles. The boy named Bhim also sniggered, but at a look from someone Radheya supposed was Prince Yudhisthir, tried to pass it off as a cough. For a moment, Radheya was sure he saw a hint of a smile on the Empress's face. Several courtiers snorted. Only a turbaned man hidden in the shadows by the king, evidently the Prime Minister, looked unhappy. The blustering priest struggled against the humiliation and gathered himself before continuing, " I apologize sincerely to the Grand Regent. With his permission, this lad hid behind a tree with villainous intent, eavesdropping on the sacred Gayatri. We plead that the state looks into this heinous offence, and punishes the wrong-doer."
The Grand Regent gave them what could only be called an aggressive glare. The court was silent, the courtiers glancing around dubiously. The Prime Minister-like person addressed Shon, "And what does the accused have to say for himself?"
"It was a mistake, Manyavar. I was unaware of the rules regarding the mantra. I arrived there purely by chance, and was intrigued by the sounds."
"Objection, Your Excellency, this urchin says that he came here by chance. No one comes anywhere by chance, God willed he would commit this sin and be punished for it. Even if he had come by chance, why did he not leave? Ignorance is not an excuse for a criminal offence It is..."
Radheya listened on with a sinking heart. It soon became obvious that there was no way out. The courtiers and the nobility needed the support of the priestly class to further their propaganda. It was a symbiotic relationship and there was no way one would ditch the other. It seemed the Grand Regent had come to the same conclusion, for he abruptly cut-in as soon as one of them had stopped.
"I would like to take the opinions of some of our young Princes. Children, what do you say?"
Breaking every possible protocol of the state, Suyo shot up, waving his hand frenetically. Ignoring the entire court, he turned to his parents and emphatically stated, "Father, he is little older than us. We are a hundred brothers " - a sly-looking, bearded man sunken in the shadows poked him - "and five more and a sister, yet to see one of our number dwindle shall cause you such immense sorrow. They are only two brothers, it will be unjust to cleave him from his family. I am convinced, Father, that he has done it out of sheer ignorance."
The Emperor sighed. The court strung itself on a thin cord at this passionate speech. The Grand Regent turned to the eldest Pandav, "Prince Yudhisthir?"
Contrary to Suyo, Yudhisthir spoke quietly and calmly, his voice low and respectful, "I understand the point cousin Duryodhan makes, but it would please the court to remember that all citizens are equal before the law. Therefore, Your Majesty, Your Excellency, it would behoove us to act in accordance with such beliefs, passed down from the time of the Honorable Late Emperor Bharat. Unfortunate it is that our brother here knew not the rules, and more so that he contrived not to understand it. But should we pardon this, it should turn into a precedence, forever noted for crimes to rush into state. Therefore, I beseech you, to not give in to emotions, but act as rationality decrees."
Suyo exploded, "A good ruler is one that not only rules with a firm hand, but also with a fair and loving heart."
"Be that as it may cousin, but the fact remains that an act of misconduct changes not by viewing it differently. The Emperor will perhaps aid us by giving a verdict."
Every eye turned to the blind Emperor. A hushed silence fell over the court. Everyone knew what the correct decision would be, but fearing the wrath of curse-spewing sages, none spoke up. Finally, the Emperor wearily spoke, "And what punishment do the scriptures decree for this offence?"
The priest who had been ranting earlier now eagerly spoke up, "O our thrice blessed ruler, O one of excellent wisdom..." - the Grand Regent made an impatient noise of displeasure - "...the scriptures do decree that one who hears the holy Gayatri by intention or without it, if he not be a Brahmin or Kshatriya, he be punished by pouring molten lead into his left ear."
Heads snapped up so quickly that at least five of them cracked. Radheya chanced a glance at his father. He was deathly pale. Prince Yudhishthir, recently eloquent of speech, looked shocked. Even the Emperor looked troubled. The Empress spoke, her voice the clang of a temple bell on a still summer noon, "He's just a boy."
The priest bowed ingratiatingly, bending low enough for his nose to graze the floor, "The law, Your Majesty, sees neither age nor intention."
And then, the sentence, most damning of all, fell like the death knell of an era, the Emperor's quiet judgement, "So be it."