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 from a Shattered Image

Fragment 8

Pandu found the burden of his heart only increasing. The days passed in affairs of the state but the nights were nightmares. His wives were patient and understanding, neither uttering even a sound of reproach. He wished they would at least shed a few tears. But they kept smiling as if his impotence did not cause them any heartburn.

Their attitude only made him feel worse, not better. No one spoke a word, but he felt the crushing weight of their expectations. The bards sang his praises, the citizens extolled his greatness and all it served was to remind him of what an utter failure he was. His whole life seemed meaningless and futile.

He left on a Dig Vijaya. It was an escape, he knew, but he did not want to be in the palace anymore. He did not want to be in the proximity of the two women who had chosen to share their lives with him and to whom he had been unable to give anything. He did not want to wait for the inevitable question of when he was going to give an heir to his Kingdom. He did not want anyone to know that he was unable to do what even a mindless beast was able to.

So he went to war. And he vented all his anger, all his frustration in the battlefield. He had been ruthless, trampling his enemies to dust. He was not satisfied with defeating; he had to destroy.

For, in the battlefield, he could fool the world that he was a man.

He enjoyed the battlefields; he reveled in the trumpet of elephants, the neighing of horses, the clanging of swords, the twanging of bowstrings, the whoosh of the arrows and spears. He rejoiced at the smell of blood intermingled with that of sweat, metal and the excrements of men and beasts. He laughed at the carrion birds circling high above, waiting for the day’s battle to end.

At the end of one day’s battle, he came upon one of his soldiers, retching by the side of a tent. He was a young man and it was evident that it was his first campaign.

The young man was embarrassed by his weakness and had mumbled an apology. But Pandu was staring at where the soldier had emptied the contents of his stomach on to the grass.

He had done the same on his first campaign. He had never imagined that a battlefield could be a place of such brutality, where men turned into killing machines, where life had no sanctity, no value. His uncle had placed a hand on his shoulder and had told him. “Do not be ashamed of the horror you feel. It is not your weakness, but your strength. We are Kshatriyas and we cannot shun warfare. But the day we lose our compassion for those we kill, the day we stop being horrified at the brutality of our acts, that day we lose our humanity and Dharma as well.”

Pandu looked around him with sightless eyes. What had he been reduced to! What monster it was he had become!

He had come to escape, to prove himself a man by ruthlessly destroying his enemies. But all he had proved was that he had become a monster.

And he returned, smiling outwards, but chagrined inside. All the wealth he had conquered, he had placed at his brother’s feet. His brother who should have been King if he had not been born blind; his brother who would have been a better ruler, who would not have reveled in the fearful screams of his enemies. His brother who wanted to be King, who resented him for stealing his birthright.

The decision to leave the palace for the forest had been taken on that day. The day of his return. He told everyone he was going on a hunting trip to the forest with his wives. No one objected. After all, they had had so little time together.

His wives suspected something. Kunti it was who asked him, “Swami, why are we here?”

He drew a deep breath. “I am abdicating the throne Kunti,” he said calmly. “I am not worthy to be King. I am not going back,”

“And what reason would you give your people? Your elders?”

“I killed a couple of deer today,” he said. “I’m going to tell everyone that it was a sage and his wife sporting in the form of deers, and that they cursed me to fall dead if I ever touch a woman in desire again!”

“Convenient,” Kunti observed. “It resolves all your difficulties. But have you spared a thought to us? Your presence in our lives is all we demand. Is that too much to ask for?”

He looked at her. He had never loved her more than he did at that moment.

“If my presence is all you require,” he said. “Then you must accompany me. God knows there isn’t much else I can give you!”

“Don’t speak like that!” Madri’s hand was over his mouth. “We do not require anything more for our happiness!”

He nodded. He was powerless to resist their demand.

Fragments from a Shattered Image

Fragment 3

Many times during her journey to Hastinapura, Satya wondered if she was in a dream. She, Satya was going to be queen of Hastinapura! It had to be a dream.

Devavrata rode alongside the chariot. She wondered about him. The oath he had taken, to remain celibate for ever, never to know a woman, to have a child… What sort of a man makes an oath like that? She was awed by him. He called her Mother but it seemed to her as if she should be bowing to him.

He seemed not aware of the magnitude of the sacrifice he had made. How could he! He was young yet. And still, he had made it with a smile. But from the resolution implicit in his jaw and the steely glint of his eyes, Satya knew he was never going to retract it.

Does he hate me? She wondered. The thought oppressed her. One couldn’t really blame him if he did. But it would still be unfair, thought she. She had had no role in what happened. She was only an instrument.

She resolved that from henceforth, she would not be a passive spectator to life. She had allowed Parasara to take advantage of her out of fear. She had allowed her father to make her into a bargaining chip out of obedience. And in so doing, she had deprived Hastinapura of a good King. Now, it was her duty to see that the Kingdom did not suffer for it. No matter what happens, she thought, I will always put the interests of my Kingdom before anything else. It was the least she could do for Devavrata who had chosen to make this sacrifice.

She sat up straight. She was going to be married. She might not be excited about it, but she was going to try to be happy. And she was going to make sure that neither her husband nor her step son was ever going to have any reason to regret the oath that her father had caused Devavrata to make.

But she was still afraid. She wondered what Devavrata would say if he knew of the sage and of her Krishna. And the thought of Krishna made her sad. She would not be able to see him again. But he had told her the last time that he would come to her whenever she needed him. All she needed to do was to send word to him.

Though the memory of those words comforted her, she still felt sad. Krishna hadn’t anticipated this parting any more than she had. And she would not be able to see him or call him to her at her whim. She was going to be a wife. More than that, she was going to be a queen. And she would not be able to indulge in whims for any personal gain.

The chariot lurched to a stop. Satya sat up, quaking, waiting for the chariot door to open. The door opened suddenly and for a moment she was blinded by the sunlight. A shadow filled the doorway and she shrank back in fear.

"Mother," it was that respectful voice again. "We have reached,"

She saw that he was holding out his hand respectfully. She placed her hand in his as he helped her alight.

Fragments from a Shattered Image

Fragment 2

Satya wondered why she was destined to meet this man that day of all days. It had been a busy day for her, and she had returned from ferrying the last of her passengers across. She was still waiting, in case someone came along. No one generally came, but sometimes a stray traveler would come seeking a way across the river.

Sometimes Krishna would come, accompanied by his father. Sometimes he would come alone. He was old enough now to travel on his own. She did not resent it that he was close to his father or that he wanted to be a sage. She knew her resentment would only drive a wedge between herself and her son, so she swallowed it and learned to let go of it.

But on that day, the one who came to her was a total stranger and he was seeking, not a way across the river, but Satya's home. He was tall and majestic and she could see that he was almost as old as her father. But he was not wrinkled or stooped, but handsome still and stood straight as a sapling. He was like the Kings in the tales that the village story teller used to tell her so many years ago. He had gazed at her in wonder and then had asked her for her name and asked about her father and asked where he could find him.

She had told him, wondering if he had come to buy the new boat her father had built. Boats were her father’s passion and his boats were bought by Kings and Princes from far.

Seeing his grandeur, Satya wished he had found her in the morning before she started her work, before she became all sweaty and her hairs all blown out of the coil in which she had wound them in the morning.

Satya had forgotten all about him by the time she returned home that day.

For the next few days, Satya noticed a sense of impatience coupled with a suppressed excitement in her father. She wondered why that was; she had never seen him like that. But her questions elicited no straight answers. He made vague references to good fortune and Goddess Lakshmi from which Satya could understand that he had had an opportunity for realizing his ambitions. She always knew her father was ambitious, though what exactly his ambitions were, were a mystery to her. She wondered if some coastal chieftain or ruler had hired him to build a fleet of boats.

All speculation ended the day the chariot bearing the standard of Hastinapura came to their hut in the morning. Her father had hurried out eagerly, but had stopped with face pale as he saw the man who stepped out. Satya had looked at the stranger. He was dressed in white and was young, though she could not tell if he was older or younger than her.

Something about him reminded her of the man she met the other day. But there was an arrogance about this man that was lacking in the other one. She stood just inside the door as he looked around with a kind of surprised wonder.

"Are you Dasharaja?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant. Her father had nodded and asked him to come in. Satyavati went into the kitchen as her father led their guest to the room which served as their dining and bed rooms, spread a mat and bade him to sit.

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The Banished Secret: Chapter Five

“You failed.” the voice was dispassionate, the face expressionless. The man swallowed. Somehow the very indifference of the being that confronted him was more frightening than anger or recriminations. He knew that failure would not be acceptable, but he had not expected this level of judgement. He could feel sweat beading his brows, and much as he would have liked to wipe it off, he knew that to show any sign of weakness would be a mistake.

“The assassins I hired could not do the job,” he conceded. “For obvious reasons, I cannot show my hand openly. I have to put on a neutral facade at the least.”

“That is understood.” The creature answered, its voice a susurration that sent shivers down his spine. “But that does not explain the reason for your failure. You know as well as I that he cannot be killed by any ordinary assassin, not when he has his – protection.”

“I know. I just thought...” he could feel sweat trickling down his face and body. “I don’t see how he can be killed at all if that enchantment is as strong as you say.”

“The enchantment can be weakened and destroyed, but it requires strong counter enchantments, but even they won’t be effective unless he is struck by someone who shares his bloodline.”

“One of his brothers, then.”

“Yes. Now, you understand. They must be turned against him. That is your task. As you say, you cannot show your hand openly, but they know and trust you. Poison their minds against him. Slowly… slowly… just change them… and they will destroy him.” The voice had dropped into a whisper, almost hypnotic and he felt drawn into it, and nodded his head before shaking it violently. He couldn’t fall under its spell. He had to ally himself with it, but that was out of necessity. His agenda was different.

“Even if somehow I turn one of them against him, there’s still the fact that he’s a very skilled warrior. They call Arnava the best, but he’s no match for Bhaskara.” He pointed out. He had seen Bhaskara fight, and he had seen Arnava fight, and he had no doubt that in a battle between the two, Bhaskara would always prevail.

“Are you here only to create objections?” the voice came out in a growl, and the man felt a prickle of fear, but he refused to be cowed.

“I was just pointing out the obvious,” he said.

“Don’t worry about that,” The creature said. “The enchantment needed his mother’s life force to cast. To weaken it would require the life force of its subject.”

“You mean, the spell to weaken it will weaken him.” he guessed.

“Yes. But even then, only someone who shares his bloodline can strike the killing blow. Nothing else will suffice.”

“I see,” he paused.”I see my task. It is not easy, but it can be done. We need turn only one against him, and one is already against him. I can use him.”

“Use the warrior,” the creature or being or whatever it was spoke. “He’s the one who must do it.”

“Why? Maitreya is easier to manipulate. Arnava and Bhaskara are already as thick as thieves. It’ll be a difficult task to turn him against Bhaskara.”

“Do not speak names!” the creature hissed. “Names have no place here! It must be the warrior, for otherwise, he will ascend to the throne and he will not rest until he has taken his revenge on us!”

“What have you against him?” he asked now, curious. “I know why I want him gone. I have plans for Jwalamukha and they are not served easily if – the usurper is on the throne, and yes, the warrior on the throne could be easily problematic and so it helps my goals if he would get rid of his brother, but what is your stake in this?”

“The witch, Malavika,” the creature hissed. “She stole the enchantment from us, and cheated us of our revenge when she used it to protect her child. We would have killed her, and had our soul for ours had she not sacrificed herself.”

The man again felt a prickle of fear. This was no ordinary being. It was a spawn of hell, and he knew that one misstep could cause his soul to belong to it.

“So, now you want her son’s soul.”

“We want his life by breaking the stolen spell! And we will have a soul, his or his brother’s. The one who strikes the killing blow will be ours! You just have to make certain that he doesn’t live long enough to redeem himself.”

The man nodded. The thing was right. Once Arnava had killed Bhaskara, it would be better to get rid of him. Mahakarma was a doting father and might decide to forgive his son for fratricide, and Arnava on the throne was no different than Mahakarma on the throne. Sumitra, on the other hand, was weak. He could be manipulated, failing which he could be removed easily, and they could take control of Jwalamukha and its vast resources. But first, he had the daunting task before him of turning Arnava against his brother.

The Banished Secret: Chapter Four

Abhi moaned in his sleep. He was having a nightmare. He and Aditya were walking on top of a cliff. A giant bird swooped down and took Aditya up in his claws.

"I shall get rid of him for you!" The voice rumbled like thunder.

"No!" He screamed, and the sky changed, became dark and reddish and red clouds massed overhead before blood started pouring from the heavens and another voice thundered, “Fratricide! Is this the payment for all the love your brother gave you?”

He woke, panting, and sweating, the sheets tangled around his body. He stared around wildly. He sprang out of his bed and ran to his brother's room, and opened the door without knocking.

Aditya was fast asleep, one of his legs dangling from the side of the bed. The bed clothes were in disorder as if he had been tossing and turning. Abhi frowned. Was Aditya having a nightmare too?

Aditya groaned in his sleep. “No,” he muttered. “No, don’t. Please don’t!”

Abhi went to him and shook him by the shoulder. "Wake up, Aditya, you're having a nightmare!"

Aditya clutched his arm as he opened his eyes. There was a wild look in his eyes which were unfocussed. "Arnava!"

"Aditya, it’s me, Abhi." Abhi was worried. Who was Arnava?

Aditya's gaze focussed on his face. "Abhi?"

"Yes, you were having a nightmare." He said soothingly.

"Yea… Thanks…. but what are you doing in my room?" Aditya gave him a questioning look.

"I had a nightmare. I... I came to check if you were all right." Abhi muttered.

"I'm fine," Aditya said and was surprised as he was pulled into a hug. Abhi clung to him fiercely.

"Hey," Aditya’s voice was gentle. "I'm all right, you know."

"It seemed so real," Abhi said, his voice muffled by Aditya’s shoulder. He was shaking.

"They always do, but they are not.,” Aditya stroked his brother’s head, holding him close. He could not remember his own nightmare, but Abhi seemed shaken by his. “They disappear as soon as we wake."

"I know," Abhi murmured as he relaxed, and pulled away, though Aditya’s arms were still around him. "It's strange that we both should have had nightmares on the same night."

"Yes. I'm gonna kill mom." Aditya released his brother.

Abhi gave a weak chuckle, "She's not even here. What did she do?"

"For not telling us that guzzling ice cream before bed can cause nightmares!" Aditya said in an injured tone.

"You think the ice cream caused our nightmares?" Abhi sounded sceptical.

"What else could it have been?" Aditya quirked an eyebrow teasingly. “We both had it, and we both had horrible nightmares. Ergo, the ice cream is the culprit.”

"I so enjoyed eating it." Abhi said wistfully.

"So did I," Aditya said, sighing, before perking up. “But you know, we didn’t finish it."

"May be that's why we are having nightmares.” Abhi said grinning. “Our subconscious could be telling us that we forgot to finish the ice cream!"

"Let's finish it!" Aditya sprang up from the bed.

Abhi chuckled. "Remember how dad says there's always something that brings out the kid in us?"

"Yea. For me it's ice cream!" Aditya laughed as he raced out of the room.

"For me too!" Abhi laughed as he followed Aditya to the kitchen, all nightmares forgotten.

The Banished Secret: Chapter Two

"Life sucks!" Abhi declared. His older brother, Aditya lifted his eyebrows but did not answer. Abhi was normally even tempered and sunny, but he too had bad days.

Abhi was a handsome young man of around twenty. Though he was lounging on the couch, looking fairly indolent, he did have a good physique. He was tall and loose limbed. His dusky complexion only enhanced the brilliance of his eyes and smile. Aditya too looked much the same as his brother, except that he was at least ten years older and his complexion was molten gold. Apart from that, they looked exactly like the other. On his bad days, Abhi used to remark sourly that their mother loved Aditya so much, she gave birth to his xerox copy ten years later. Except that the settings were off, so the copy came out dark and not quite the same. Rochan and Achla used to laugh at Abhi's statement, but not Aditya.

Aditya wondered if it was going to be one of those days. He glanced at the newspaper, sipping his coffee, hoping against hope that Abhi would let him read in peace. Though twenty, Abhi often behaved like he was much younger.

"It really sucks!" Abhi repeated, sitting up in the couch and looking at Aditya where he was sitting next to the coffee table in an armchair.

"What happened?" Aditya asked, sighing and setting the newspaper aside.

"That old professor of yours," Abhi said moodily. "That Professor Alex. He’s never satisfied. Whatever I do is never enough. The other day he asked me if I was really your brother!"

Aditya chuckled. "He’s like that with everyone. He asked me once if I was really dad's son!" He winked at Abhi. "It's his style. Don't let it get to you."

"I don't care for his style," Abhi muttered. "Thank God he's retiring this month!"

"Who's coming to replace him, do you know?"

"No, and I don't see why you should be bothered. You are free of it!"

Aditya laughed. "Do you think only students have it tough?"

"I tend to forget you are a teacher these days," Abhi moaned. "I don't know why teachers forget all about their own student days as soon as they stand on the other side of the desk!"

"For the same reason why parents forget all about their childhood as soon as their first child is born," Aditya replied.

"That’s so true," Abhi said, grimacing. "Talking of parents, when are dad and mom returning? Do you know?"

Aditya shook his head. "No, but shouldn't you be concentrating on your assignment for Professor Alex? Granted, he's retiring at the end of the month, but he's certainly going to make your life miserable for the entire month if you don't turn it in on time."

"I know," Abhi sighed. "I've finished it. Just some fine tuning required."

"What's your plan today? It’s a holiday, isn’t it?"

"Nothing much. Shyam wants me to go to his place. He and Vina are planning to watch some stupid mytho show."

"And you don't want to?" Aditya looked amused.

Abhi grimaced. "I don't dig mythos. I don't even know why they hang out with me. We’ve absolutely nothing in common."

“A bit too late to gripe on that, don’t you think? The three of you have been inseparable since primary school.”

“Yea, but the differences were not so glaring then. Now… it’s as if we can’t agree on anything.”

"Life might be pretty boring if everyone agreed on everything," Aditya remarked.

"Please," Abhi groaned. "Spare me the platitudes till later in the day."

Aditya laughed as the doorbell rang.“Must be your friends,” Aditya smiled.

“I’ll be going then,” Abhi said, sounding thoroughly disgruntled as he went to open his door.

“Ready?” Shyam smiled brightly.

“I suppose,” Abhi said wearily.

“Come on, sleepy head!” Vina laughed as she dragged him to their car.

Abhi was feeling bored. Shyam and Vina were waxing eloquent about the actors and the costumes and stuff, but all he could see were a set of people dressed up in too bright clothes and a lot of unnecessary ornaments and too much glitter. He did not like their wigs either, and the dialogues made him yawn.

"Bored?" Shyam leaned against him.

"Oh, don't mind me," he said, yawning again. "You two carry on. You know I don't like this stuff."

Vina turned to look at them and rolled her eyes. "Perhaps we should have asked your brother to come."

"Aditya?" Abhi chuckled. "He likes this stuff even less than I do!"

"Why don't you try to know the story?" Shyam suggested, his arm snaking around Abhi’s shoulder. "You might find it interesting."

"Please," Abhi said, groaning. "I can't read anything other than thrillers. You know that."

"Imagine this is a thriller, then. It is thrilling enough." Vina smirked.

"Yea, sure!" Abhi laughed. "If that's a thriller, then I'm Ved Vyas!"

"Impressive!" Shyam laughed too. "So you know Ved Vyas' name!"

"Ha ha!" Abhi said. "It’s a side effect of hanging around with you two!"

"It's a start!" Vina said, winking. "We'll make a mytho lover of you yet!"

"Why can't you two just take me as I am?" Abhi asked plaintively, as his friends broke into laughter.

The Banished Secret: Chapter One

The man stood before the King, head held high.

“I come seeking my destiny,” he said. “I wish to offer my services to you, your majesty.”

The King smiled at the stranger. He was handsome, with a broad forehead, finely moulded lips, an aquiline nose, sharp cheekbones and a firm chin. His moustache was dark, and he had no beard. His hair was wavy and of shoulder-length. His stance was relaxed, yet vigilant, and his body was well muscled and well proportioned with broad shoulders, narrow hips and long limbs. His complexion was golden and his eyes held no fear. A longbow was slung on his shoulder, and a quiver of arrows was on his back. He wore a sword in a plain scabbard, and a dagger was strapped to his leg. He wore no armour, but was dressed plainly, in an angavastra and an uttariya was worn around his torso.

“I admire your bravery,” he said. “But you must prove your skills before you can join my army. But before all that, tell me your name.”

“My name is Bhaskara,” the man replied. “I’m an orphan and has been brought up by a sage who taught me the lore of the ancients as also warfare and weaponry.”

“Bhaskara,” mused the King. “Has the name been given by your adoptive father?”

The man inclined his head in what might have been agreement. “How am I to prove myself?”

“You shall fight against the best warrior in my kingdom. My son and heir, Arnava. Be not ashamed if you lose, for, he is the very best warrior in all of Bharatavarsha, and it is said there is no warrior in all fourteen worlds to equal him.”

“Let his weapons and skill testify to that,” Bhaskara spoke with an easy confidence that bordered on arrogance.

King Mahakarma chuckled. “I like your confidence. A combat between you and Prince Arnava shall be arranged this week itself. Where do you stay?”

“In a house in the West street.”

The King frowned. “That street has only broken down old buildings. No one stays there.”

“I found a house that was not in much disrepair, and made it habitable,” Bhaskara shrugged. “I like my privacy.”

“I would like to know one thing more,” the King said.

Bhaskara gave an inquiring lift of his eyebrows in response.

“You say you are a warrior, well versed in warcraft. Yet, how is it that your body remains unblemished? There are no scars on you that I can see.”

“A powerful enchantment has been placed on me by my mother before she died. The sage who brought me up told me that she was an enchantress. The enchantment is protective in nature, and as a result, I cannot be harmed by any weapon forged by man or god or demon.”

The King gasped aloud. Surely, this could not be! He looked at the young man closely. No wonder he looked familiar.

“Has the sage told you the name of your mother?” the King asked, trying hard to keep his voice from trembling. His mind was in turmoil. This young man could not be the result of his indiscretion so long ago. Malavika had warned him how it would be, but he had not listened. His lust for her was so strong, that he had forgotten he had a wife and a son.

Bhaskara’s expression turned stony. “I do not see what my mother’s name has to do with anything.”

“Was her name Malavika?” the King asked. He had to know. And if this was indeed Malavika’s son, then… the King refused to think further. He prayed he was wrong, and that this stranger was the son of some other enchantress. But how many enchantresses could there be capable of weaving an enchantment that rendered its subject invulnerable to weapons, fire or water?

“How do you know that?” Bhaskara’s eyes were hard and glittered with suspicion.

“Because I’m your father,” King Mahakarma said. “And you… you are my eldest living son, and as such heir to this Kingdom,” his voice was heavy, but he knew Arnava would not mind. He had never been interested in being King. Sumitra would not mind either. His head was full of art, and music, and he was interested in nothing else. But he was worried about the reaction of his youngest, Maitreya. Maitreya was not ambitious for himself, but he was fiercely loyal to Arnava. If only Mahabala, his eldest had survived the childhood ailment that had foiled the best efforts of all royal physicians… He hated having to do this, but this was his son, and it was not Bhaskara’s fault that his father had been weak and lustful and unfaithful to his wife.

“My father?” Bhaskara’s face held incredulity. The entire court was so silent, Mahakarma could hear his own heart beat loudly. Bhaskara looked around, as if searching for an escape route. He had a hunted look, and somehow, that made Mahakarma laugh.

“Don’t look as if you’re about to be executed,” he said through chuckles. “You are the heir to the throne, after all.”

“There has to be some mistake,” Bhaskara insisted, his voice quivering.

Mahakarma shook his head. “Not unless there are two Malavikas who are enchantresses and who knew an enchantment to make their subject invulnerable.”

Bhaskara looked resigned. “The sage told me he’d never heard of such an enchantment,” he admitted. “He said he knew of no one else who could have cast it.”

“I know,” Mahakarma said quietly. “That was why I sought her, but she told me the enchantment would cost her her life.”

Bhaskara’s expression suddenly became vulnerable, as if someone had suddenly stabbed him, and Mahakarma felt a moment’s sorrow. “You mean she gave her life to put this enchantment on me?”

Mahakarma nodded. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Mahakarma rose. “Pradhanamantrin, Senapati, Sthapathi, Rajaguru, make arrangements for my son’s stay in the palace, for announcing the arrival of the Yuvaraja to the people, for conducting Pujas at the temple, and for familiarizing him with the kingdom and the army.” he paused. “Come with me, Bhaskara. I must introduce you to your brothers.” For the first time, Mahakarma was grateful that his wife was no more.

Bhaskara stood as if rooted to the spot. Two royal guards were at his side. “Your highness?” One of them prompted gently. He looked at them strangely, and then at the King. Mahakarma gestured for him to follow as he walked out of the audience hall.

Book Review: Faro's Daughter

It may be inaccurate to categorize Georgette Heyer's works as just romances. They do have romance in them, but none of them deal exclusively with romance. They are more of historical novels, rich in period detail and in human interest. She is a writer who can create plots that appear simple and even trivial, and yet keep a reader hooked on to the book till the last page.

The plot of Faro's Daughter may look simple, cliched and wholly predictable. A rich bachelor seeks to extricate his young cousin, a nobleman from the toils of a young woman whose aunt runs a gaming house. But Deb is hardly the traditional heroine with a sob story, and Max Ravenscar is not the philanthropic guardian angel who falls for her charms. From the beginning, it is a battle of wills between them, with neither able to get the better of the other.

Throw in Arabella, the saucy young sister of Ravenscar with a penchant for falling in love and falling just as quickly out; Lucius Kennet, an adventurer who hangs around Deb and has a way with ladies; Adrian, Ravenscar's cousin and The Earl of Mablethorpe, wholly infatuated with Deb; Lord Ormskirk, a middle aged nobleman who holds a mortgage on Lady Bellingham's house as well as her bills and who is desirous of making Deb his mistress; Sir James Filey, a repulsive man who is trying desperately to beat Ravenscar and challenges him to a race; Kit Grantham, Deb's younger brother, who is as heedless as he is expensive; Lady Belligham, Deb's feckless, but wholly practical aunt and Phoebe Laxton, a beautiful, but insipid young girl who is forced to run away from the man her parents had chosen for her; and we have a cast of unforgettable characters.

The plot starts interestingly with Adrian's worried mother importuning Ravenscar to save her son from “that female,” and unfolds with Ravenscar's visit to the gaming house and their subsequent clashes. Matters come to a head when Deb has Ravenscar kidnapped on the eve of his race with Sir James Filey and Kit forcibly takes the key from Deb and releases him since he's in love with Arabella. In the meantime, Adrian falls in love with Phoebe Laxton whom Deb had sheltered, and Lucius Kennet forms a scheme to kidnap Arabella. Georgette Heyer resolves all complications with enviable simplicity and when the predictable end comes to pass, it is with a realization that the journey has been far different from the anticipated one. Ravenscar is wholly indifferent to the world, and when Deb tells him that he cannot marry a wench out of a gaming house, he tells her that he was going to marry a wench out of a gaming house with as much pomp and ceremony as he can contrive. And since he is one of the richest men in town, we can imagine that he will contrive a great deal.

Movie Review: From Beginning to End

From Beginning to End is a Brazilian movie that had the potential to be great and yet proved to be disappointing.

The story is about a homesexual relationship between two half brothers, Thomas and Francisco aged 22 and 27. That premise, unfortunately, is the only interesting thing about the entire movie.

Having created an interesting premise, the makers just decided they couldn't be bothered to show how the real world works, opting for a fairy tale instead where everyone around them accepts homosexuality as well as incest without batting an eye.

There are indications of the boys growing unusually close even during their childhood, and their mother opts not to point out the rights or wrongs, instead simply telling them never to be ashamed. After her death, the father of the younger brother moves out of the house, giving the brothers the privacy and space required for taking their relationship to the physical level. And when an opportunity comes for Thomas to train abroad for the Olympics for three years and he asks his father for advice, he tells him that it is something the two brothers must decide together.

I was surprised that no one actually gives a damn about the incest, including Thomas and Francisco. I expected some soul searching, some conflict, both internal and external, and a lot of opposition. Instead I was rolling my eye for most of the time.

The actors have given such a convincing performance that you can feel the love that Thomas and Francisco shares. But one can't help wonder at the same time if they would have developed such an obsessive love for each other had the adults around them tried to point them elsewhere when they were still children.

That said, the movie works as a love story.  But the movie would have worked equally well as a love story had Thomas and Francisco not been brothers. Their being brothers adds no extra dimension to their relationship and frankly, once their childhood is over, there is no plot development.

Had the two ended up in a relationship in spite of opposition and in spite of their own guilt because they realized that the love they had was worth it, the movie might have been a more satisfying watch. As it was, the movie was extremely boring.

I wouldn't call it a must-watch, but if you like fairytale-like love stories with happy endings, this one's for you.

Personally, I like some dose of reality even in movies. And there was none in this.