Epic Retold: The Mahabharata in Tweets (17 page)

Jayadratha of Sindhu. I had only seen him from afar when he married Dussala, the Kaurava sister.

So this is Duryodhana’s brother-in-law. I slap him hard. ‘Stop, Bhimasena,’ Yudhistira says.

‘This villain tried to play Ravana and kidnap Draupadi,’ I say, slapping Jayadratha again. ‘He must die!’

‘Don’t,’ Yudhistira raises his voice in command. ‘We cannot kill him. Let him go.’

I face Yudhistira angrily. ‘Is this the same brother who wanted an ignorant forester killed for laying hands on Draupadi?

‘But you would let a king—one who should have known better—live for the same crime?’

Yudhistira says, ‘We cannot make our only sister a widow. We cannot do that.’

Yudhistira’s notion of justice makes no sense to me. One rule for kings, another for tribals. I am speechless.

But Nakula does not hold back. ‘He shall not go unpunished! He will bear the mark of criminals! Sahadeva!’

Sahadeva hands Nakula his hunting knife. Without waiting for Yudhistira’s approval, the twins force Jayadratha to his knees.

Then, brutally, ignoring Jayadratha’s cries and the scarlet seeping from his scalp, the twins begin to tonsure him. They leave only a tuft.

Yudhistira unties the prisoner when they are done. ‘Go now,’ he tells the prince. ‘Tell Dussala we release you only because of her.’

Jayadratha stands there for a long moment, looking at each of us in turn. Then, quickly, he climbs into the chariot and is gone.

That night, next to me, I hear Draupadi sob. I draw her close.

VALLABHA

EPISODE 24

TWEETS 74

‘My hands!’ Draupadi says, showing me her palms. ‘Look at my hands!’

My new living quarters are in the bowels of Virata’s chaotically sprawling palace, next to the kitchen, past a maze of unlit corridors.

It is not customary for maids to wander here. But Draupadi has sought me out today, just as I am about to return to the kitchen.

‘Queen Sudeshna gives me no respite,’ Draupadi says. ‘Fetch the mirror! Braid my hair! Carefully, Malini!

‘Is this what the queen of Indraprastha should be doing? Bowing and scraping before the royals of a ramshackle kingdom?’

‘Hush!’ I say, caressing her calluses. ‘The year will be over before you know it.’

‘Nine more moons!’ she says, slightly mollified. ‘There will be nothing left of my hands by then!’

Since taking on my duties as Vallabha the cook, I have come to realize why Krishna chose Matsya for us to hide in.

It is a small kingdom, poor of land resources. But it has a burgeoning population and a growing—though ill-trained—army.

It is also cattle-rich. And, from what Nakula has told me, it boasts some of the finest horses he has ever laid eyes on.

But, like the palace itself, the kingdom seems disorganized. Perhaps King Virata’s fondness for dice stands in the way of statecraft.

‘Wait—’ Draupadi says as I begin to walk away. ‘Queen Sudeshna is the least of my worries. I have a more pressing concern.’

Her concern is the queen’s brother. Keechaka. A thickset man with a fleshy face who perpetually reeks of wine. He commands Virata’s army.

‘His advances are too audacious,’ Draupadi says. ‘I have told him I am married many times, begged him to leave me alone. Yet he persists.’

Anger burns me, but I try to make light of the matter.

‘Princes have always chased the beautiful maids,’ I say. ‘His interest will wane soon enough. Avoid him for some time.’

‘How? The queen insists I remain close, even when he visits.’

‘You are always with the queen. He cannot harm you,’ I say. ‘Keechaka travels often. He will leave soon.’

Then, to take her mind off her unwelcome suitor, I ask, ‘What news of the gambler?’

As a lowly cook, lost in the smoke and soot of the kitchen, I am unable to meet Yudhistira, the king’s confidante.

‘Gambling well, I hear,’ Draupadi says. ‘I hope he does not pawn us when he begins to lose and falls short of pledges!’

The chief cook is scowling when I return. I slave hard under the whip of his tongue for the rest of the evening.

The next day marks the beginning of the festive season. An amphitheatre materializes in the palace courtyard. Entertainers arrive from afar.

There are jugglers, magicians and acrobats, clowns and strongmen, men who eat fire, also a group of wrestlers.

The wrestlers hold demonstrations every afternoon and compete against the king’s best men. I watch the wrestling bouts every day.

One wrestler stands aloof, looking on with contempt. Of good build, he wears expensive wristbands and leather shoulder straps.

‘Jemootha,’ one of the kitchen-helpers tells me when I ask. ‘He says there is no one worth fighting here.’

Then, looking at my large frame appraisingly, he says in jest, ‘You are more or less his size, Vallabha. You can challenge him!’

I smile. Murmuring some meaningless humility, I move away.

Unfortunately, the king also remembers me. When called, I bow deep. I tell him I learnt wrestling as a boy. But I have forgotten everything.

Virata says impatiently, ‘I do not expect a miracle. Just hold him off a while. That will be enough to keep the crowd happy.’

Immediately the king’s servants begin to prepare me. Someone produces a tigerskin. Someone else ties my hair.

Seeing the commotion, the kitchen workers gather around. The chief cook is amongst them. Some begin to cheer.

I hear the chief cook say, ‘Five silver coins on the fat Vallabha!’

Then, scowling, he shouts at me, ‘I will have your hide if you dare lose, you dunderhead!’

Jemootha looks me over when I challenge him. Then, with a contemptuous smile, he jumps into the arena.

Shuffling my feet uncertainly, I wait for his attack. Under the chief cook’s leadership, the kitchen hands are cheering for me.

Jemootha begins with a blow to my neck. I allow it to land. He strikes again. I retreat, looking uncertain.

I endure more blows. I do not want to reveal my strength or speed. The chief cook’s encouragements have now turned to abuses.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a group of maids joining the spectators. Among them is Draupadi.

I await the next attack, still pretending to retreat. Jemootha attempts to envelope me in a headlock. Ducking, I hit him in the ribs.

The crowd roars in appreciation. I let my opponent recover. Somehow I need to end this quickly, making my victory look fortuitous.

Jemootha advances more deliberately now. From the way his eyes dart to my knees, I anticipate an attempt to swipe my legs from underneath.

As he bends into his left leg, I am ready with my own offence. Twisting outside his line of attack, I close the gap between us rapidly.

Jemootha grunts when his knees collapse under my kick. As he crashes, I fall with him, elbow reaching to meet his astonished face.

Bones crunch. Blood spurts. Jemootha is still.

Surprised applause fills the air. When King Virata summons me, I bow humbly. The pleased king orders a gift of a hundred coins for me.

‘You have some talent in this area,’ he says. ‘I must ask Keechaka what he thinks of you for the army.’

‘Fortune favoured me,’ I say, avoiding his eyes. ‘I caught him by surprise.’

My colleagues from the kitchen surround me when I come down from the king’s stand. The chief cook, silver fresh in hand, slaps my back.

After that, my standing amongst the palace servants sees an immediate improvement. The chief cook allows me privileges I never had.

The guards too treat me with respect. Doors barred to me before are suddenly open. I am allowed to roam the palace more easily.

At night, maids come to ask about my welfare. But when I turn away the third one, such enquiries come to an end.

‘The tale is that the big Vallabha is impotent,’ Draupadi tells me. ‘The maids find it sad the gods have laid to waste such brawn!’

I shrug. ‘But the twins seem to be making up for your inadequacies,’ Draupadi says, laughter in her voice.

She tells me there is a war amongst the maids vying for the attention of Nakula and Sahadeva.

I ask her about Yudhistira. Despite my recent freedom of movement, I have found it difficult to meet him.

‘Wait in the north corridor tomorrow evening,’ she says. ‘Kangan will be there with the king after the evening meal.’

When I ask about Keechaka, Draupadi grows tense. ‘His attentions are intolerable,’ she says. ‘I pray he is called away soon.’

I escape the kitchen early the next evening. The palace guards engage me in small talk before they allow me to make my way.

When I arrive near the appointed chamber, I hear the roll of dice from within. The king must have finished his meal and arrived early.

I wait out of sight in an antechamber, hoping Yudhistira would come out at some point. Just then, I see Draupadi coming up the corridor.

She holds a large liquor vessel. Gingerly, she opens the door of a chamber down the corridor and walks inside. She has not seen me.

I wait, frowning. Across the hall, the dice game continues.

There is silence from the chamber that Draupadi has disappeared into. Then a commotion. Hurried footfalls.

The door opens. Draupadi runs out, Keechaka behind her. He grabs her by her loose tresses. Draupadi screams.

It is twelve years ago. The same scene. Strange hands holding Draupadi by the hair.

Draupadi has fallen down. I do not catch Keechaka’s slurred words. Like a whirlwind I burst into the corridor.

‘Stop!’ Yudhistira stands barring my way. ‘This is the not your place, you fool!’

King Virata comes out behind him. Picking herself up, Draupadi bows to him. ‘The queen sent me with wine,’ she says, sobbing. ‘But he —’

The king looks at Keechaka, disgusted. ‘Remove yourself! Do not misbehave with my servants!’ Then turning, he says, ‘Come, Kangan.’

Keechaka walks away sullenly. Yudhistira looks at Draupadi for a long moment, then abruptly turns and follows the king.

Soon I hear the roll of dice.

The same dice. The same Yudhistira. The same Draupadi.

But not the same Bhima. This time I will not stand idle. ‘Keechaka will die,’ I promise Draupadi quietly. ‘Tomorrow.’

KEECHAKA

EPISODE 25

TWEETS 57