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.
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