Fragments of a Shattered Image: Fragment Eleven

The Brahmana was young, but not youthful. He was of medium height, and in spite of his young age, his hair and beard were shot with grey. He was thin, though not emaciated. His clothes were simple and patched in many places. The bundle he was carrying was also in a similar condition. He clutched it in one hand, the other held a begging bowl, which was half full of rice. The bundle held the vegetables and fruits he received in alms.

As he turned the corner, he could hear the loud laughter of the children. He smiled to himself as his steps quickened almost automatically. He could distinguish the laughter of his own son, Aswathama. Soon, the children came into sight. Aswathama came running to him.

"Father!" He cried in delight. "Father, I drank milk today! I drank milk!"

The suppressed giggles of the older children were not lost on the Brahmana. He looked at his young son with affection as he transferred the bundle to his shoulder and the bowl to the hand holding the bundle. Then he stooped down and picked up his son, carrying him in the other arm.

"Tell me all about it," said he, forcing a smile and feigning an enthusiasm he did not feel. He could hear the loud snickers of the older children, but he ignored them. The mocking glances sent his way confirmed his suspicion that his son had been made the butt of a practical joke, but he did not want to dampen his child's joy or his enthusiasm.

As he entered his small one room hut, his sharp ears caught a whisper one of the children, "The learned Drona's son can't even tell the difference between milk and water mixed with powdered rice!"

He felt his face burning and his hand clenched tightly on his bowl. Aswathama who was chattering away about how tasty the 'milk' he drank, was oblivious of his father's turmoil till then.

"Father," said he, "it pains,"

Drona noticed then that he was holding his son in a vice like grip too. He relaxed his grip, and put down the child.

"I didn't want you to fall," said he, putting the bowl and the bundle down and rubbing the boy's midriff gently.

Kripi came in just then, bringing water for him to wash his hands and feet.

That night, after Aswathama had slept, Drona told his wife that he was leaving.

"I see no benefit in the life we are leading now," he told her. "I shall go out into the world and make my fortune. My friend Drupada will surely help me."

Kripi kept her eyes lowered and Drona failed to see the anguish in them. He was too lost in what had happened that day to pay attention to her.

Fragments of a Shattered Image: Fragment 10

He came to, slowly, opening his eyes with difficulty. Everything appeared blurred. He was feeling disoriented and groggy, not feeling as he normally did. He also felt weak. There was a roaring in his ears. He tried to move and found something was restraining him. He was cold too and he shivered.

Slowly his vision cleared. He found he was lying on a grassy bank by a river. Some wild looking men with snake symbols tattooed on their bodies were standing around him. He was bound by cords.

He strained and the cords snapped. He tried to get up. One of the men pointed a spear at him and he swatted it aside. The man laughed and extended it again. He realized the man was trying to help him up. He caught hold of it and the man pulled him up.

He stood there looking around in confusion.

“Where am I?" He asked, his voice a hoarse rasp.

He was a boy and yet he was taller than most men. His face was beautiful, not unlike most children of his age, but now his face reflected bewilderment as he looked at the strangers.

The men too looked at each other in confusion. Then there was a commotion. The men bowed low as they parted way for an old man to come through. He was wrinkled and old. The image of a snake with raised hood was tattooed across his entire body giving him the appearance of a snake.

The man stood before him. "Who are you child, to venture into the land of the Nagas?"

He swallowed, hiding his fear and confusion behind bravado as he stood straight and answered, looking the man in the eye. "I am Bheemasena, son of Pandu and Kunti, the Prince of Hastinapura."

"Son of Kunti," murmured the old man. "Your mother is related to the Nagas by blood, though the relation has been forgotten by both our families. Vasuki, the King of the Naga people welcomes you to this land."

He turned to the others and said something in another language. The men broke into words in the same language. Vasuki's next words were sharp and the men said something in an emphatic tone. Vasuki turned back to Bheema, his face grim.

"You had been drugged and thrown to the river according to my men. You had also been bound with cords." He paused. "My men rescued you, not without difficulty, as you were fighting them in your unconscious state."

He sounded pleased and proud though Bheema felt abashed. But he was also angry. It did not take him much reflection to piece together what must have happened. It was obvious that his cousin had attempted to kill him.

Watch out Suyodhana! He thought. I am coming for you!

His hands had clenched into fists and his face was grim.

Vasuki looked at him with a smile. "Come, my child." He said. "You rest for today. I shall arrange for your return to Hastinapura soon."

Bheema lived with the tribe of Nagas for some time. He was too weak to return yet, Vasuki told him. Though he felt fine, he accepted the old man's argument. It was better to let Suyodhana think that he had succeeded. Bheema chuckled to himself thinking of the expression on his cousin's face when he would walk in.

Of course, thought he, Suyodhana won't have too much opportunity to be surprised. For Bheema was going to pound him to the floor as soon as he reached. He would break every limb of that loser.

The food was one added reason that tempted him to remain. It was the best he had ever tasted. The spices and condiments and herbs that the Nagas used were completely unknown to the cooks at Hastinapura. And the drink that they gave him every night after the meal tasted like nectar.

"It is a Naga medicine for restoring health," Vasuki told him. All Bheema could think was if all medicines tasted so good, he for one, would not mind being sick.

The Nagas also taught him how to row a boat and to make loops from rope. In the little time he had, he mastered the basics of whatever they taught him. He also haunted the kitchens often enough that the cooks too took to teaching them their way of cooking.

One day, Vasuki came to him and told him that one of his men will take him to Hastinapura.

"He will take you to the palace where your mother and brothers are," he said. "Do not confront anyone till you have met with them. I have informed your mother that you are safe in my care. But it is for you to apprise her of how you came here."

Bheema nodded. Pounding Suyodhana could wait after meeting with his mother. He could wait. He had time.

Fragments of a Shattered Image: Fragment 9

Satya sat down on a couch. Her limbs ached.

'I'm growing old,' she thought. But that was only to be expected. She grew more tired but less sleepy. She also felt less hungry these days, though her memory was still sharp.

Small mercies, thought Satya. Small mercies.

She sighed. Her tiredness and physical aches were less than the grief of her heart. The last rites of her grandson was over. His five sons were so small. She wondered if her step son and grandson would care for those.

She had no energy left to worry for them now.

She looked up as her son was announced.

"Krishna," she smiled at him. He was called Vyasa by all these days, Veda Vyasa. But to her he would always be Krishna.

"Mother," he bent down to touch her feet.

"Ayushman bhavah" she blessed him.

"Mother," he said as he sat down next to her on her invitation. "It is time you left the palace. It is time for you to leave the world behind."

She gazed at him. He was right of course. She should leave for the forest. It was the way of things, of life.

She sighed again. She had buried her husband, two sons and now a grandson. She did not want to watch more deaths. Her son was right. She should leave.

She gave him a faint smile and nodded.

"It is time," she echoed.