Fragments from a shattered Image: Fragment 14

Kripa welcomed Drona with open arms. Kripi too was happy to be with her brother, in the land where she grew up. Drona tamped down on the resentment he felt as he saw Kripa's house. How fortunate Kripa was! He was all but adopted by the King and was now the Guru to princes. He lived in luxury.

In contrast, he, Drona, spent his days in stark poverty. In spite of being superior to Kripa in both knowledge of weaponry and in skills, he was in the position of having to depend on his brother-in-law! It was galling.

Aswathama showed no visible enthusiasm for the changed surroundings. But he was grown now. The years that Drona spent with Parasurama seemed to have driven a wedge between him and his only son. Aswathama was a stranger to him now. But Drona was too caught up in his own plans to notice that.

Drona was resolved to change his situation. He would become the guru to the princes. And he knew Kripa well enough to know that he would not mind. He might even be glad.

Fragments of a Shattered Image: Fragment Thirteen

The palace of Panchala was too big. Drona had to crane his neck to see the standard of the King that flew from the ramparts of the surrounding fortress. The palace was nestled inside, a building that seemed to occupy as much space as his entire village.

The palace was built almost entirely of stone that had been polished so much that it shone like gems. Beautiful gardens surrounded it. The path leading to the palace was flanked with shady trees. The path was crowded just then, full of people going to meet the King's ministers or the council and to submit their grievances. Drona felt superior to them.

The guards looked at him with contemptuous sneers, but he did not mind that. He was above all that. He was the King's own friend. He chuckled inwardly as he thought of the expression on these guards' faces when Drupada would embrace him as a friend. Of course, he would tell Drupada he did not need half the kingdom. Revenue from one or two villages would be enough. And with the knowledge acquired from Parasurama, he could start a Gurukula where he could train Kshatriya princes. He would become famous all over the world as a teacher par excellence.

He was asked to wait a while when he said his business was with the King. He did not mind waiting. He refused to give his name to the heralds. He would go in unannounced, like an unknown Brahmana. How surprised his friend would be! He would probably jump up from the throne and come to embrace him!

He smiled to himself as a courtier beckoned him forward. The hall was very long and he paid no heed to the condescending, pitying or sneering glances by those who were seated there. He felt no shame about his patched clothes or beggarly appearance. He was in his friend's presence!

Drupada gave him a disinterested glance.

"Speak, Brahmana," said he, politely. "What do you wish from me?"

Drona smiled widely. "My friend," said he, "I am Drona. Do you not recognize me?"

Drupada's gaze turned cold. "Friend?" His voice was like a whiplash. "How is it possible for there to be friendship between one such as you and one such as me? Friendship is possible only between equals. Do you not know this yet, Brahmana? Now tell what it is you desire! I have weightier matters to attend to!"

Drona stared at his friend, stunned. Was Drupada serious? Was he testing him, perhaps? How could he speak so to him?

"But," he stammered, confused now. "We were in the Gurukula together! You said you would give me half the kingdom when you become King..." His voice trailed off as he saw Drupada's gaze becoming fiery.

"For uttering such words," spoke the King, "I ought to throw you in prison! Had you been of any caste but a Brahmana, I would have you beheaded for that!" Drupada controlled himself with an effort. "However, I am generous. I forgive you. If you require alms, state it. I shall be happy to provide such!"

Drona felt his face burning. Blood was pounding in his ears. Unbidden, came to his mind the mantra to invoke the most destructive weapon he knew, but he thrust it away. He could destroy this entire kingdom if he so wished, but that was no fitting punishment for the arrogance of Drupada.

"I do not come as a beggar!" Said he. "I come as a friend and you have seen fit to insult me! So be it, Drupada! But a day shall surely come when you shall be too glad to accept my hand in friendship!"

He turned around and walked away, trying to ignore the guffaws by the courtiers. He would show them! The outline of a plan began to form in his mind. But he needed a powerful patron. And students. And not just any students. Kshatriya students.

The solution came to him just as he was crossing the threshold of Drupada's palace. Hastinapura! His brother-in-law, Kripa was the teacher of the princes of that kingdom.

His eyes were blazing with joy as he left Panchala.

Fragments from a Shattered Image: Fragment Twelve

Drona was panting by the time he reached the abode of Parasurama. It was the rumours that sped him hence. He had heard that the warrior sage was giving away the wealth he had amassed over his life time to Brahmanas. And he had come there in the hopes of getting something, at least a cow or two. His face twisted as he thought of his abortive attempts to gain a cow till then. No one in their part of Bhatatavarsha seemed able to gift a poor Brahmana with a cow. All were too poor! His lips curled in contempt. The advent of Kali was too near if this was how Brahmanas were treated!

He wiped the sweat of his brow, catching his breath. The area was quite deserted. He wondered if he'd been hoaxed. Surely, if the sage was giving away his possessions, there ought to be a crowd of Brahmanas there? Had he been made a fool of?

Just then, a man came out of the hut. Even though Drona had only heard tales of the great sage, he could recognize him. The warrior-like stance, the scars on his arm, the fierce gaze, all told him that he was in the presence of the great Parasurama himself. He hurried to the sage and greeted him with folded palms.

"I am a poor Brahmana," said he. "Drona, the son of Bharadwaja. I have come on hearing that you are giving away your possessions. Please do not send me away empty-handed!"

A shadow crossed the serene face of the sage. The fierce eyes became sad.

"You have heard right, O Drona. But you have come too late. I have no possessions left in the world now."

Disappointment, starker than anything he'd known before filled Drona's heart. There was a bitter taste in his mouth.

"However," the sage continued. "I cannot send you away empty handed. Therefore I offer you to choose between the only two possessions I have left in this world: my life or my knowledge of weapons. I have nothing else to give you."

Knowledge of weapons? Drona had never aspired to that. He knew enough of warfare to impart basic training to any student who might come to him. But what Parasurama offered went beyond that. It was knowledge, the likes of which, he had never even dreamed of. The sage was the student of Lord Siva himself. The knowledge he could give was going to ensure that Drona would be unique. His skills and knowledge would be coveted. He would be sought after by all.

He bowed low, "Accept me as your pupil, O great one, and impart to me your knowledge of weapons."