Revenge of the Chandalas Read online

  Shatvari guessed her father's dilemma and asked, “Father, you look unusually worried, what's wrong, please tell me?”

  “No, nothing like that. I just hope you understand that a teacher-student relation is considered very holy in our tradition. It is like a father-daughter, or a mother-son relation. It is important that the decorum of such a relation is always maintained. Can you promise me that you will take care of this?”

  “Do you not trust your daughter, father?”

  “I trust you Shatvari, that's why I am asking for the promise. There is no point in getting a promise from a person who can't keep it.”

  “If it comforts your mind, I promise you that I will respect that tradition and decorum of the teacher-disciple relation.”

  “I am sure you will my dear,” replied Shastri ji and walked out of the room.

  Pandit Aditya Shastri had an indomitable personality - both in his physical form and in his spiritual prowess. He was tall, fair, wide-chested, and glowed with the aura of a yogi. He was a renowned expert of Vedic texts and therefore had the title of 'Shastri'. He had complete command over the whole canon of Hindu holy texts—both under Shruti and Smriti categories. Apart from that he was well versed with the day's religious rituals and state traditions of the present. Although Shastri ji reflected broad mindedness in his interpretation of ancient Vedic texts, on certain topics, he liked to agree with the conservatives, caste-wise classification in the society was one such topic. He believed that this system was necessary to maintain a balance in the society. Still he was against all forms of discrimination based on the caste system. For him caste system should be based only on a man's profession and it should be confined to that. But it was a fine line to walk. He would oppose the atrocities done in the name of caste, but he never revolted against the tradition wholeheartedly. He was well respected not only in the village but all around the state. People from all over the state would come to get advice on matters—religious, political, social, spiritual. His financial state was not sound. The major source of income was the alms and donations he received in return of performing Vedic discourses at people's houses. He was always aware and steadfast about his reputation. He allowed Shatvari to teach Gunjan because he was liberal in his thoughts about caste system, but somewhere deep down he wasn't sure. Shatvari's promise, however, relieved him from his worries.

  Chapter 6

  “Wake up, mate! You pushed me out of bed and now you're snoozing away yourself,” Neel said tapping lightly on Dhananjay's right shoulder. By his tone it was evident that his mood had improved.

  “Excuse me, your Highness! The moments of waiting are felt longer than the moments of toil,” said Dhananjay waking up from his slumber.

  “Yeah, you can blame me. Maybe you think that I take longer than young women while getting dressed. And why do you keep calling me 'your Highness', you are my childhood friend and have always been calling me Neel.”

  “That was a different time. Now you are our king and the chief of our tribe,” Dhananjay tried to make his point clear.

  “Change in rank should not change personal relations. It's better if you call me Neel from now on,” Neel insisted. But his tone lacked command.

  “As you wish your Highness,” Dhananjay said with a cheeky smile.

  Neel glanced at him and soon a natural smile appeared upon his face.

  Neel adorned special attire for this year's Sun worship festival. A white loincloth with a thin black border, a sturdy pair of black shoes, a deer skin cloth covering his wide chest and a sidelong white cockade turban. A white pearl and silver necklace round the neck gleamed with sunlight. Both arms had beautifully engraved silver armlets that made his biceps look robust and strong. The man who walked back home last night under the spells of gloom was nowhere to be seen now. Neel portrayed a leader with poise and command.

  Both friends walked out to proceed to the festival ground. Neel himself took the reins of the horse cart waiting outside. It wasn't unusual for Mekal leaders to do their own chores wherever possible. Neel held a rein made of strong, jute rope to control the lone horse pulling the cart. In his other hand, he held a leather whip to guide and control the muscular beast.

  The dawn was broken. Sky mellowed with orange sun rays. Birds were starting to leave their nests to begin another bright and breezy day. Butterflies emerged out from their night shelters to hover around the fresh morning flowers. Neel and Dhananjay's carriage galloped towards the east part of the town.

  The thirty feet wide main passage built of sand and stones divided the town in roughly two parts. The town of Amarkantak was not designed to be a state capital. It was almost an afterthought. No architect or Vastu expert was probably consulted. Most of the houses were modest huts at best. The bigger and brick houses were also scattered there, amidst the wooden huts and cottages. The town wasn't planned to segregate people in terms of their caste, creed, or financial status.

  The carriage stopped at Narmadakund ground, which was the designated venue for this year's Sun worship. Neel felt a sense of pride at seeing the enormous crowd congregated for the event. He felt satisfied to see that the Nishada people still valued and respected such religious and cultural events. He looked around to quickly assess the arrangements made at the ground. Even though it was a religious ceremony to worship the Sun god, the whole event was planned to celebrate the beauty of human life and nature as a festival. A huge idol of the Sun god was placed on one side of the ground in a large carriage. A large area was cleaned and rolled out flat and painted with cow dung and yellow earth paste. It was barricaded using a rope leaving only some space for the entry. Outside this perimeter, there were some marked places to seat the special guests. The rest of the crowd stood around.

  Neel and Dhananjay arrived with some other important town members. They first came and bowed to the Sun idol. Then Neel grabbed a bow and an arrow placed at the feet of Sun idol. He placed one of the arrows on the string, flexed it backwards, pointed to the sky and let go of the arrow. It pierced up into the sky and disappeared. The ritual was to pay tribute to the Sun as the source of all energy and strength to mortals on earth. As soon as the arrow was shot, the crowd burst into the sound of 'Jai Suryadev'. Everybody joined in and then saluted the Sun god once again. Neel and his accomplice took their seats. The festival was about to begin.

  A group of young men and women dressed in special attires came to the ground. Some of the men carried a percussion drum called Mardal. Some had cymbals—a round, small cymbal in each hand. The drums and cymbals started to play a rhythm and the rest of them throbbed into dancing to the beats. The folk music and dance created an amazing atmosphere. The steps of the dancers complimented the beats of the percussion. The whole crowd was engulfed by the musical melody. Neel and Dhananjay were enjoying themselves and swaying with the folk beats.

  The festival was at its peak when two armed soldiers suddenly appeared on their horses. They pierced the crowd and came straight to Neel.

  “What's the urgency? Any trouble?” asked Neel standing up from his seat.

  “Yes, your Highness! Our south-east camp has been attacked by an infantry from Kosala,” replied a soldier nearly out of breath.

  “So, the evil demons have reached this far!” Neel clenched his fists and turned to face the two soldiers, “These Yaduvanshis have flayed all the rules and ethics of war. They knew we would be occupied here in the festival today, so they took the opportunity to sneak in like the cowards they are.”

  “Yes, my lord, we were taken by surprise. Some of our soldiers have already died and the rest are losing courage,” the second soldier added.

  “Don't insult the martyrs by using such expressions, my dear soldier,” retorted Neel.

  “My apologies, your Highness,” replied the soldier keeping his head down realizing that the new ideals put forward by Neel as a forward-thinking king must be respected.

  “We will give a befitting reply to this cowardly trickery of Yaduvanshis. I call upon all young men
present here, who are trained in warfare, to join me to teach them a lesson.”

  Realizing that the festival might get disrupted by this sudden unfolding, Neel announced to the organisers to keep the festival going unhindered. Nobody needed to know what was happening out there on the periphery of their state. Neel subscribed to the idea that the warfare should be limited to the army and its soldiers, and the general populace should remain unaffected by it.

  Around two hundred armed men were ready to join Neel for the attack. Dhananjay was on his horseback waiting for instructions from Neel. Neel knew that their number wasn't enough to beat the Kosala army. He thought for a moment and addressed a soldier, “We are going to support the camp that has been attacked. You go to our north-east command camp and pass my orders to move towards the south-east.”

  Neel kicked his horse and quickly galloped towards the battlefield, followed by two hundred brave Nishada warriors.

  Neel slowed down after a few minutes. He stalled his horse and turned around to address his cavalry.

  “We will have to accept that we do not have enough men to face them in a man-to-man battle. We will have to plan smartly. I have an idea I just conceived. We will split in two units. One group will go ahead and reinforce our battalion fighting the Kosala army. You will join them and keep attacking the Kosalas from the north. After some time, you'll withdraw so that they will think that you are running away. They will chase you, and you will draw them towards the dense forest. As you know the forest's terrain would confuse the enemy, then you can spread out and make their composition haphazard. The second unit, headed by me, will be waiting for you there and we will strike them from south taking them by surprise. With no exit option and no knowledge of the forest, they will be baffled, and we can easily overcome.”

  Dhananjay was listening keenly to Neel's plan. As soon as Neel finished speaking, he asked, “Your Highness do you think this plan aligns with the ethics of war that we Nishadas have pledged to stand by under your leadership at all times? Is it right to attack from behind?”

  “Dhananjay, I see your point. But we did not strike first. We are simply responding to their shrewdness and trickery in their own unethical way,” replied Neel.

  Dhananjay as well as all the soldiers present nodded in affirmation. They realized that their king was not simply an idealist talking of ethics and morals. He knew the war games and how to use tricks and tactics.

  As per the plan, they split into two units. Dhananjay was leading one of the units and Neel the other. All the soldiers galloped towards the battle zone. They knew the importance of reaching as soon as possible to help their dwindling battalion. Dhananjay led the unit that were to go and assist the fighting soldiers. Neel took his soldiers towards the forest and settled in camouflage waiting for the right moment.

  Dhananjay's unit stormed with the passionate slogans of 'Jai Suryadev' and 'Jai Mekal'. The soldiers who faced an enormous Kosala army were losing hope with every passing minute. As soon as they noticed the rising dust and slogans coming to aid them, a newfound wave of energy infused their bodies and weapons.

  Dhananjay sprang forth and struck a Kosala soldier on his right shoulder taking him by surprise. As he turned around to assess his attacker, the Mekal soldier who was fighting with him attacked him on his chest. This toppled him over his horse onto the ground. As soon as the Kosala soldier fell on the ground, a foot soldier pierced his heart with a sharp and unforgiving spear. It was clear the traditional ethics of war were not being followed here.

  Dhananjay rode around the battle zone with a surprising agility and purpose. Rather than meeting any Kosala soldier for a face to face duel, he sneaked around here and there and attacked them from behind or just by rushing past. Slicing one here, gashing one there, piercing a chest of a horseback soldier running towards him, darting a spear from behind, drilling daggers into foot soldiers obstructing his path. It took Kosala soldiers by surprise who were still engaged in man-to-man duels.

  Soon one of the Kosala soldiers took the initiative to try and stop Dhananjay's mayhem. He challenged Dhananjay for a duel by coming right in front of him purposefully stopping him. Dhananjay took the challenge. He knew this was inevitable. He struck the first blow on the left shoulder of the soldier. The blow was skilfully tackled and a counterattack off-balanced Dhananjay. They exchanged a few swings of their swords. Dhananjay moved and fought like a champion warrior. Soon he deliberately took one of the blows on his left shoulder. It looked like he was slashed by his opponent's sword. Dhananjay looked back at one of his soldiers and winked. It was time to make the tactical move. Dhananjay took another body blow and made it look more severe than it was. He had to appear defeated and scared enough to run for his life. He quickly kicked his horse around and ran in the opposite direction. The Kosala soldiers realised this. They also noticed that all the Mekal soldiers were withdrawing from the fight. An order was shouted around Kosala soldiers to chase the cowardly Nishadas running away from the battle ground.

  The plan was working. Dhananjay lead the tactical withdrawal. His horse galloped towards the trap that was waiting for the Kosalas in the dense and dark forests in the south. Two armies raced towards one destination. The web was already cast, and the spiders were waiting.

  Chapter 7

  Gunjan arrived at Shatvari's house at the prescribed time. It was his first day as her student. It was a small room. Veena, Mridangam and other musical instruments sat in one corner. An idol of goddess Saraswati was placed higher up. A fresco on the adjoining wall depicted a dance move of a Gandharva and Apsara. A mat was placed on the ground for sitting. Shatvari sat right in front of him. It was a comfortable distance. Gunjan tried not to look nervous, but he found himself fiddling with the silver coin pierced in a black thread that he wore round his neck. As soon as he saw Shatvari noticing it, he abruptly stopped. She wore a sky-blue silk sari. One corner of the sari was draped casually on and over her bosom. The slender waist and navel still were clearly visible. Gunjan tried to look away and focus on the fact that he had come to learn music. He also remembered his vow to not get enamoured with his teacher.

  “Gunjan, I heard your song that day. You said you also play flute. Let's hear how well you play your flute.” said Shatvari.

  “But I have come here to learn music, not to play.”

  “Sure, but I need to see how good you are with the understanding of musical notes and what grasp you have on your breathing. I need to assess you before I can start teaching you.”

  “Okay if you say so, but please don't make fun of me.”

  “A teacher will never make fun of a student; it'll be akin to flaying her own teachings. Come on, don't be ashamed or worry about anything.”

  Shatvari's soft words mixed with her intoxicating smile roused an ache in Gunjan's heart. But he quickly got hold of himself and recalled the fact that she was his teacher. He refocused and grabbed a bamboo flute tucked in his loincloth. He positioned it across his lips, put his fingers on the flute holes and blew into it to play a devotional song based on a folk tune.

  Shatvari noticed how his fingers and breaths were playing in tandem to produce beautiful music. She realised that he knew how to correctly access sharp and flat notes. His style of holding the instrument was proper. The combination of melody mixed with devotional tune immersed Shatvari in the moment.

  As soon Gunjan stopped, Shatvari exclaimed, “Gunjan you play the flute fantastically. If you pay good attention to your music, you will be a great musician one day, no doubt.”

  She noticed how his face erupted with astonishment. He felt at ease and now was totally comfortable with her. She added, “Okay, tell me what you would do once you are a great musician?”

  “I will continue to play as I do. Sing and play to entertain myself and others.”

  “Why? You can become a renowned teacher of music just like Acharya ji. You can become a reputed social personality.”

  “Don't drive me to these dreams, which can't be fulfilled. My father
saw a similar dream when being a Shudra he married a Brahmin girl. He was not accepted by the society. He and my mother had to leave the town and come to live here in the village.”

  “But that should make you even more resolved to do something, something about attaining justice that was denied to your parents. Don't you think so?”

  “Who are we to make a decision on right and wrong? We should leave that on the pundits of morals and ethics.”

  “I don't feel whatever happened with your parents was right. Acharya ji says that the whole universe was created out of love and for love. Then how can phony rules of a society put two lovers in such misery and outcast them. Do you not feel angry about this? Do you not feel angry at the injustice done to your parents and to yourself? Despite being a Brahmin woman's son, you have to drive a bullock cart to make your living?”

  “I don't have any problems with the bullock cart. I feel free and happy roaming in the fresh air, singing folklore to my passengers and even my oxen, enjoying the tolling of bells as they move on, I enjoy all this, really. But I also want to learn the Shastras—all the Vedic holy texts but being a Shudra I don't even know the language to read them.”

  Shatvari watched him grow more disappointed and hapless as he spoke. She witnessed a caged parrot that got so used to the captivity that even if somebody let the parrot free, it wouldn't fly away. Freedom ceased to exist for Gunjan. This perturbed Shatvari.

  “Why doesn't our society allow Shudras to study Holy Scriptures, father?” Shatvari asked.

  “Who gave you the reason to believe that?”

  “Nobody! But why is it that only Brahmins get to study the texts?”

  “Simply because that's the tradition. To study and to teach holy books is Brahmin's duty.”