"Prince Lakshman."
"Yes, Lord Pravindran?"
"Might I suggest we take a little break? The council has been sitting for close to five hours now."
Lakshman looked up from the parchment in his hand to the faces of the elderly men surrounding him. The evident fatigue in their eyes jostled him, and he dropped the papers down to address the council. "My apologies. I suppose I was too engrossed in this discussion to realise how long we have been here. Perhaps we can close for the day? I would like to thank you for your time."
"We are all the servants of the crown, Prince. And I say this for each of us, that your interest in these matters and your deliberation on the nuances of the subject make you the most ideal student. If anything, the honour was ours."
"Very well, Councilman Jugdesh. I hope you will not regret these words the next time you find yourself seated here for more than five hours."
A light, gentle laugh spread across the room as the men stood up, carefully stacking up the parchments that lay on the table in a tangled mess. Lakshman exchanged a few more pleasantries with them, inquiring about their health and family. By now, he was fairly acquainted with all of them and had developed a deep propinquity that was based on mutual regard.
In the past year, Lakshman had been actively involved in the execution of the administrative decisions, as decreed by the Royal Court of Hastinapura. Given the absolute lack of skilled manpower and an even diminished motivation, it had been a difficult few months post the war. What Lakshman knew existed only in theory, and he soon realized the value of experience when he was faced with quandaries beyond his expertise. No treatise could prepare him for the challenges that he was forced to encounter. It had been a learning experience unlike any other. While Lakshman was still unsure of his proficiency in these matters, he at least no longer considered himself a novice.
To develop a thorough understanding, he decided to delve deeper into the crisis, hoping to understand the process from the very beginning. Of the many divisions whose heads formed King Dhritarashtra's Council of Noblemen, he had opted to work with Lord Bringrog and the subordinate members of the Council of Treasury. Led by Bringrog, they were responsible for overlooking the treasury and were keenly involved in all major financial decisions, including trade with other kingdoms, lending activities for various sub-bodies, and taxation and subsidization. They monitored the kingdom's economic health, counseled the king on pecuniary rulings, and supported local businesses through a strong credit line.
"Lord Bringrog. I am heading down to Grandfather's study room. Might I ask for your company?"
"But of course, Prince. You need not ask, only command."
"Thank you. Sir."
They went down the circular staircase and took a left turn. It was a fine afternoon, all bright and sunny. The sky wore the color of blue, and nary a cloud hung over them. A flock of pigeons sat perched on the parapets, picking at the grains left by kind servants.
"May I ask you a question?"
"Of course, Prince."
"How would you define a fool?"
Bringrog stopped in his tracks, staring at him in wide-eyed surprise. "Your Highness?"
"Answer my question, sir. Who can be called a fool?"
"I don't understand....."
"Kindly indulge me."
"Well, Prince, a fool is someone who doesn't think before he acts. He lacks judgment and rationality."
"Such a man would be easy to deceive."
"Surely.
"And you think I have such qualities?."
"Why would you say that?". Bringrog smiled, and opened his arms. "I consider you to be highly competent. A worthy successor to the throne of Hastinapur."
"Is that so?"
"Of course."
"I doubt it."
"Is........is something wrong?"
"It has been three weeks since I have been having these long discussions with the council. Do you want to know one of the things I have observed that irks me tremendously? The constant smiles on everyone's face," Lakshman glimpsed at the man beside him, his brows set in a line. "At first I thought it was just the council being amenable to my presence, regarding it as what it is - interest instead of interference.
But even then, as the days went on the smiles remained. Wide and stretched across everyone's faces. It reminded me of my sister's dolls with laughter stitched on their big mouths. Put there by design. And I started to wonder if it was the same case with the council."
"Prince!" Bringrog blinked several times, adjusting the angavastram on his shoulder. "We are all extremely delighted to have you with us."
Lakshman chose to ignore that, his rage overtaking his sensibility. "And then there are these accounts of various divisions assembled and reviewed by the Council. It's baffling that no matter where I look, I see such optimism succoured by incredibly robust numbers. I didn't find one trend that could highlight a potential threat in our near future......somehow, we have managed to do exceedingly well across a myriad of trades in a very short span of time."
Lakshman turned on his heel to stare straight into the eyes of the senior councilman. "There are only two possible outcomes here. First is somehow, the noble council has understood the complexities of governance and administration so well, that we have managed to prosper amidst the most catastrophic war in our kingdom's history."
Bringrog didn't respond. His manner was tense, like that of a captured deer waiting for the tiger to sink its bared teeth into its neck and end it all.
"Second is that the numbers are manufactured. Just like your smiles."
All color left Bringrog's cheeks. He took Lakshman's hand and guided him closer to an open balcony, away from the servants bustling down the corridor. Little pots of flowers dotted the perimeter of the circular line of balusters. Sunlight poured in on the sunflowers placed strategically by the gardener. A grasshopper sat perched on the leaf of a hibiscus plant, its antenna moving around, sensing the environment.
Lakshman placed his left hand on the railing and waited for a reply.
"Prince."
"Do not test my patience, sir. Lately, I have had it in very short capacity."
Bringrog sighed. "It had to be done."
"Had to be done? Falsifying accounts is a gross offense, sir. How could you do it? How could a council so venerable do such a thing?"
"Please lower your voice!" Bringrog said in panic, eyes darting fervently across the open corridor, checking to see if they were truly alone. "How did you know?"
Lakshman scoffed. "Because I checked. I have been sitting with your men for days, hearing you cook up elaborate stories and painting rosy pictures of a future that I know will never come true. I waited for one person to stand up and tell the truth, but none of you did!"
Lakshman himself did not believe it when he discovered it. At first, he thought he had made a mistake. But soon, he was able to catch the words left unsaid amidst dialogues of falsities. Truth was like a newborn baby bird pushing at the hard eggshell to break free. When the councilmen all parroted back the exact same narrative to him as if decided by a joint consensus, it had become absolutely clear to him that this was nothing but an agreed-upon charade to hide the reality. A reality that was darker than what he could imagine.
"It is your sagacity that the entire kingdom trusts. Your council is composed of the most intelligent, capable, and scrupulous men who have decades of experience guiding them into making the best decision for the kingdom."
And they were the ones who had forged the accounts. The numbers never added up, Lakshman had discovered. Hastinapura was not facing a near crisis. It was already in crisis.
The kingdom had run out of its reserves. There was nothing left.
"Look at what you have done! On your recommendation, the king has lowered taxes! He has subsidized all agricultural and craftsmanship activities. Money had been lent to every tradesman at incredibly low-interest! You-"
"We have done what was needed to revive the kingdom. The state is a complex organism, my Prince. It thrives on production and trade, and this war brought a stop to it all. We had to find a way to rejuvenate it, to bring it back to life."
"By spending money we don't have? You have put us in even more debt than before, so much so that we are drowning in it. I cannot even imagine what we owe to all the kingdoms who have lent to us."
"They have helped us in good faith."
"No. They have been lied to by your council, promised sordid amounts of riches and protection that we have no means of giving!"
"Prince, we cannot have this discussion here," Bringrog begged him. "Please let us go somewhere quieter."
"I have heard what I needed to. I will not allow this disgraceful travesty to continue any longer. I need to speak to the Prime Minister."
Lakshman marched out of the balcony, pure fury coursing through him. To think that something so despicable was happening in the very halls of the Hastinapura Palace was reprehensible. He needed to get the truth out. He needed to put an end to this.
The third floor on the east wing of the Palace held the chambers that had been given to Vidura post his induction as the Prime Minister by Queen Satyavati. Dhritarashtra had repeatedly requested Vidura to move into the Palace, but he had denied each time, continuing to stay in the house he had constructed not far from there.
"I am not a warrior, My King.........this is the only way for me to stay healthy.......these long walks he would say and burst out laughing at his own joke. Dhritarashtra would simply shake his head, having heard this excuse close to a thousand times.
"It's almost as if you want there to be distance between us, Vidura."
"I am your most loyal follower. How can there be distance between us?"
He entered the furnished offices of the Prime Minister. A beautiful turquoise carpet covered the expanse of the room. There were plenty of bookcases and cabinets filled with some of the most important documents regarding the administration of the empire. If any of these documents were to fall into the hands of the enemy, Lakshman mused, there would be severe consequences. The walls held portraits of men who had previously occupied the position of Prime Minister. He recognised a few of them. When he was younger, his father would tell him tales of their lives, how their wisdom and experience had brought prosperity to the kingdom.
A few scribes sat at their wooden desktops, furiously penning down as Vidura dictated to them his thoughts on some matter. They stopped immediately once he entered and bowed to him. Vidura turned and glanced at him in surprise.
"Lakshman. I wasn't expecting you."
"Forgive me for coming here unannounced, Prime Minister however," Lakshman took his seat on the wooden armchair made of the finest oak in the nation, "I was hoping to have a discussion with you."
"Sure. Would you like to talk about it now? I was occupied with something else at the moment. Just trying to finish up a thought," he gestured at his head, and smiled at him.
"I apologise, but this is a matter of great urgency to me."
Vidura narrowed his eyes. "Very well. Go on."
Lakshman glanced at the scribes in the chambers. "Forgive me, but I must request you to vacate the chambers."
He waited patiently for everyone to leave, carefully avoiding Vidura's gaze. His heart was racing in his chest. This was it.
"What's the matter, Lakshman?" Vidura put down the quill on his study desk and came towards him. His manner was composed, but Lakshman knew by just looking at his face that a hundred thoughts were running through his head. He was dressed in a light blue dhoti and a yellow angavastram. His fingers already had spots of ink on them.
Lakshman opened his mouth but was left speechless when Bringrog burst in suddenly, panting hard from running up to Vidura's chambers. One of the scribes who had been collecting his parchments was so startled by the statesman's unexpected appearance that he dropped them all down. Grabbing whatever he could, he gave them a look of part embarrassment and part shock, then hurried out of the room.
Lord Bringrog collapsed on a nearby pillar, using it to support his weight. Vidura, obviously taken aback, quickly handed over a jug of water to the older man. Bringrog gulped it all down as if he had been living in a desert all his life.
"Prince Lakshman-"
"Please don't offer me any further explanation, Lord Bringrog. My respect for you is abundant however, there are some matters that cannot be taken lightly."
"Prince, you don't understand. Give me a moment to explain everything."
"No, sir. I gave the council plenty of opportunities to come clean. And nothing came of it. I am sick of the lies. I will not hear them anymore."
"You're adopting a parochial mindset. You must look at the situation as a whole and not through parts. Then the truth will become clear."
Lakshman couldn't believe what he had heard. "Integrity is not subject to circumstance, My Lord. You have deceived all of us. This is a betrayal, and it is as shocking as it is destructive."
"You don't need to say anything, Lakshman," Vidura whispered to him, as he took the jug back from Bringrog.
"No, Grandfather, I do. I must bring this to your attention."
"Lakshman," Vidura called out his name again, though it was much softer this time.
"I have discovered something unimaginable-"
"You don't need to tell me anything because........I know."
He opened his mouth to counter, but that was when it struck him. An understanding passed between the two older men, one which Lakshman was unable to comprehend. Vidura requested Bringrog to sit and offered him a cloth to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. Dropping down with a thud, Bringrog graciously thanked the Prime Minister and cleaned his face. Vidura checked the chambers to ensure there was no one around. And then he told him the truth.
The war had wiped away everything. Metal was needed to make weapons and armor. Trained animals to support their cavalries. They needed food, fuel, and transportation for the millions who had participated in the war. Each day of the Battle of Kurukshetra, they didn't just lose entire battalions; they lost decades of wealth.
When the Mahabharatha finally ended, the Council for Treasury assessed the situation and soon realized the daunting truth. They approached the Prime Minister.
"We could not let the truth break out. There would be instability beyond our control. Our army is incapacitated and our citizens have nothing to lose anymore. When hope dies, everything dies. We would not be able to contain dissent from within the kingdom. You already know the situation in Malava, Anga, and Valhika. "
"We would be the subject of attacks from enemies both near and far away." Bringrog shuddered and glanced back at him. "Do you understand why?"
"Because war is not just a matter of strength, but also resources," Lakshan replied. If outsiders knew that Hastinapur had nothing, all they would have to do was back it into a corner and wait for it to exhaust its supplies before attacking it with full strength. Or they could just watch the kingdom tear itself apart and take whatever remained.
Lakshman stood up. "So you decided to fabricate all accounts to project that the kingdom was not as weak as it truly is. That there was a repository of wealth through which we could finance the stimulation of the kingdom's economy." He shook his head, unable to stop the smile of disbelief on his face. "And the war came at just the perfect time."
With King Somadhi of Magadh inching the world closer to another battle, alliances had to be forged in the heat of compromise and understanding. Wealth was secondary in a world where your existence was at stake. The focus was now on the upcoming war. The ones who supported Hastinapura were not ignorant; in the face of another war of outlandish proportions, they were not going to come asking for their loan back. Instead, they were out there offering whatever they had left to secure a coalition with Hastinapura. And the ones who stood with Magadha and had lent to Hastinapura in the past, well, they were going on a war for it anyways.
"It was a divine stroke of luck," Bringrog stated, running a hand through his gray beard. "It gave us some much-needed time."
"If my estimations are right, sir, then I don't think you will have enough time to replenish the treasury. We were hit by the worst war in centuries. Recovery will take time."
"Not unless we win," Vidura said simply. He sighed aloud, his shoulders dropping in sheer desperation. "This war is not just about ascendancy anymore. It's about survival. If we win, we can use the money from the reparations to fund all our expenses."
"So you are willing to put thousands of lives on the line again?"
"It is Kshatriya Dharm to fight for one's motherland. And the heavens above know that Hastinapura is facing a tremendous upheaval."
Lakshman interlocked his fingers and leaned forward, looking straight at Vidura. "You don't want the war to happen, you need it to happen."
"That is one way to look at it," Vidura conceded.
"We have sent our emissaries to the kings who remain neutral. What are we promising them?"
"If we win, Lakshman, then those lies will become the truth."
"And if we don't?"
"Then it wouldn't matter, would it?"
Lakshman's look of silent reproach was not lost on the Prime Minister. "I did not make the rules of this game," Vidura remarked.
"You didn't, Grandfather," Lakshman responded, overwhelmed by all that he had heard. "But you sure know how to play it.". He couldn't help but titter at the bitter absurdness of their situation. A war to compensate for another war. Irony was really a cruel teacher.
"I only sought to uphold the common good and to protect the legacy of this great kingdom."
"Prince Lakshman." Lord Bringrog stepped up, giving him an air of condescension. "I doubt you could have made a better decision, had you been in our position. This calamity was inevitable, one way or the other. At least, for now, things are stabilised. We can think about how to proceed from here."
"Proceed to where sir?" Lakshman asked in a mocking tone. "We are one step away from ruination!" He exclaimed and turned to Vidura. "How do you plan to win, Grandfather?"
"I don't know. I just know we have to." Vidura admitted with unabashed honesty.
Lakshman put his face in his hands and pressed circles into his forehead. How would they defeat the powerful and prosperous kingdom of Magadha? Their losses were too high from the Great War and the coalition they had contrived continued to be tenuous despite their best efforts. Despair, unlike any other, filled his guts. He could see no way out of this predicament.
There was total silence for a long while. Lakshman took this opportunity to gather his thoughts and still his mind. There was nothing to be gained by working up his nerves. Morality came easy when he had to judge the actions of another.
"You are right, Long Bringrog. I speak from inexperience and perhaps naivety. I have not presented a solution to this myself simply because I do not possess one. What I have declared through hindsight as an act of great deceit was perhaps simply a desperate attempt to salvage the fate of the kingdom. And in many ways, you have contained the threat. My sincerest apologies to both of you." He said quietly.
Lakshman joined his hands in respect to the accomplished diplomat. "Lord Bringrog, I request you to please share the correct book of accounts with me. And if possible, kindly join me this evening. I would like to delve deeper into this issue."
"Of course, Prince. If it pleases you, we can sit right after lunch today and have a comprehensive discussion. And believe me, this time, only the truth will escape my lips."
Lakshman nodded at him, offering a smile for his consideration. He took Vidura's hands in his own and squeezed them together. "Grandfather, let me carry this burden with you. I assure you I will do whatever I can to help. Hastinapur will survive. Its legacy will not be tainted. "
Vidura looked at him as if assessing the weight of his words. "You have always had my confidence, Lakshman."
"That is all I needed to hear."
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Many hours had passed since his tense discussion with the Prime Minister and the head of the Council for Treasury. His room was a mess, with rolls of parchment spread haphazardly across the desk and the floor. He was sitting on the carpet using the leg of the chair as support for his back, immersed in his own thoughts. Earthly lamps placed in the room gave him the light required to peruse through the documents he had requested Bringrog for, now that the sun had begun its descent from the sky.
Bringrog had come as promised and helped him understand where the kingdom stood at the present. They had a long discussion, wherein they exchanged opinions, corrected the shortcomings in each other's strategies, and proceeded to create a framework that would help tackle problems across the board. Bringrog believed it was time to involve the Heads of the Army. They were aware of the situation but were yet to fullly grasp the fundamentals of it. Bringrog said he would speak to Vidura about it.
"May I come in?"
Lakshman looked up from his notes, stumped to find his father standing by the doorway. He quickly stood up and pushed away his work on the desk.
Duryodhana neared him, surprised to see Lakshman's room in shambles, given his propensity for orderliness. Lakshman began to clear up the mess, but Duryodhana stopped him by taking his arm.
Lakshman looked deep into Duryodhana's eyes; they were small and shrunken, the corners redder than usual. His face was gaunt and blank, and his body swayed lightly. He did not possess the strength to ask his father whether he had taken any herbs today, although he could tell that the effect had started to wane by now.
"Have I caught you at the wrong time? It appears you are quite busy." He said, pointing at his disorganised room.
"No. I was just examining a few documents that Lord Bringrog shared with me. I thought it would be useful."
Duryodhana was carrying a letter in his other hand, which he handed over to Lakshman. It was from his Uncle Dushasan. Lakshman sat by the bed and read through its contents. Uncle Dushasan had secured the support of King Karwal in a fair and mutual negotiation. The King had organised a celebration to commemorate the alliance. In two weeks' time, he would leave to continue his expedition further west.
Lakshman was pleased to read the letter. Uncle Dushasan was beginning to sound like himself, brash and optimistic.
"When will he return?"
"It will take time. He has two more kingdoms to cover."
Lakshman nodded at him, handing back the letter to Duryodhana.
"Your grandfather is disappointed," Duryodhana said, placing the letter on the table and putting an ink pot over it. "He was expecting you this evening."
Lakshman blinked in surprise. He had gotten so preoccupied with his work that it had simply escaped his mind.
"You went to visit him?"
Duryodhana replied in affirmative.
"You can go now. I am sure he would like that." His father suggested, gently caressing Lakshman's cheek. He pulled them downwards and sighed in disapproval. "Look at your eyes... have you not been sleeping well?"
Lakshman's response was interrupted by someone clearing his throat. He looked past his father to find royal guards standing nervously by the doorway, keeping their gaze low. Sweat rolled off the forehead of the guard who stood at the front. He wiped it away with the back of his hand before speaking aloud. "Prince Lakshman, you have been summoned. I request you to please come with me."
"Summoned? By whom?" Duryodhana questioned, furious at the intrusion.
"The Investigation Committee established by Maharaj Yudhishthira and headed by their spokesperson Hunaar, has invited Prince Lakshman for a preliminary consultation."
Lakshman felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. He knew it was coming, but he hadn't thought it would happen so soon.
"Well, you go back and tell them that my son is not going to be summoned by a council of prejudiced reprobates who lack the moral fiber to conduct this investigation in a just manner."
"Father, it's alright." Lakshman tried to pacify Duryodhana before requesting the guards to wait for him outside the room. "Grandfather had commanded me to comply with all orders from the Investigation committee. I cannot disobey him."
"This is a farce. This is a blatant abuse of power. Absolutely atrocious! Look at their audacity........sending the royal guards of Hastinapur to summon their Prince!"
Duryodhana discontinued his diatribe, confounded to have Lakshman's arms abruptly around him. He quickly extended his hands from his sides and brought his son closer to his chest. Lakshman was breathing heavily, his eyes pressed shut and cradled in the nook of his shoulder. Duryodhana mumbled out Lakshman's name as he lightly touched the top of his head.
"I am sorry, I don't know what came over me. Silly of me." Lakshman said, shaking his head. Visibly distracted by something, he nervously went about fixing his appearance. Duryodhana called out to him again, but Lakshman refused to look at him. He ran a hand through his hair a few times and seemed satisfied with what he saw. Placing the crown on his head, he made his way out before turning to look at Duryodhana. "Please send grandfather my regards. I'll see you tomorrow."
"No. I'll come to visit you tonight," Duryodhana said. He called out to the guards and asked them to send word when Lakshman was excused.
"Father, you should rest. It's already late. I don't know how long this will take. "
"I don't care about that, I'll wait for you."
"But-"
"I know you have not eaten a thing since afternoon. We will have dinner in my chambers. Come soon. "
Lakshman nodded. The royal guards marched ahead of him, guiding him to the sabha constructed for the Pandavas. They requested him to wait outside. His body was tired, his mind was aching, and his gut felt leaden. Lakshman had never felt more ashamed in his life than he did in this moment. He was to have a bunch of men, sit and pass judgment on his character. They would question his conscience and scrutinize his actions to find motive and opportunity. He had practiced dharma his entire life however, this incident would forever be a blight on his disposition. The mere thought of this inquest had bile rise up to his throat. He swallowed hard, looking out to see if someone was in the corridor.
Lakshman gathered all the strength he had left when one of the guards came back and requested him to follow. The elaborate room bore the flag of the mighty kingdom of Indraprastha and at its front sat fifteen men on a long, rectangular wooden table, eyeing him closely as he was brought in. He recognised some of them as important members of the royal court of Indraprastha. Hunaar sat on the far right, holding a gavel in his hand. He looked like he was out for blood.
"Esteemed members of the Investigation committee, we have with us the primary accused in the case - Prince Lakshman. Earlier today, we had a discussion with Prince Abhimanyu, where he gave us an exhausting account of his experience in Vardhamana. Perhaps, Prince, you would be kind enough to do the same." Hunaar raised an eyebrow at him. Few members nodded, assessing him with their piercing gaze.
"Please start from the very beginning," Hunaar said and struck the gavel on the table, the sound echoing through the Sabha. Scribes readied themselves, dipping their feather quills with ink.
It was supposed to be a preliminary inquiry to simply ascertain the facts about the incident.
But Lakshman couldn't help but think that his trial had already begun.
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