Revenge of the Chandalas Read online

  The commander turned his horse around and started to make his way towards the Mekal camp that they had captured earlier. The rest of the soldiers followed him. Sooner than they could get out of the darker part of the forest, they were showered with lethal arrows from all four sides.

  “Take guard!” shouted the commander, “The cowards have attacked us from behind. They couldn't face us directly, so they are stooping low to these tactics. What else can be expected from these lowly people? Find them and thrash them to pieces.” He took guard himself and looked around to assess the situation. He noticed that many arrows were coming from bushes from the east of where they stood. He pounced towards that direction.

  The soldier behind the bushes was none other than Dhananjay. Kosala's commander quickly found him and pounced upon him with supreme agility and vigour. Dhananjay responded with the same alertness. He turned around and quickly drew his sword and attacked the commander.

  A duel between the two warriors of opposite armies had commenced. Kosala's commander was a tall and sturdy young man of about thirty-five years of age. The way he moved and struck blows at Dhananjay proved his muscular strength and years of training in arms and weapons. His wide chest and bulging biceps were fearsome enough to force adversaries into submission. In comparison, Dhananjay looked smaller. But Dhananjay made up for his lack of size with fierce agility. One couldn't tell who was weaker in the duel. The overall sight of the two fearless warriors swaying and moving to the cackling of swords was so emotive that it was impossible to imagine that the logical conclusion of this fight would be a sudden death of one of them. Just like life itself they would roll and sway and continue to fight, and thwart deadly blows just to meet the eventual moment.

  They matched each other blow by blow. Dhananjay's swift movements made the commander move around faster than he would normally do. Not able to pierce the commander's guard, Dhananjay stumbled upon a quick trick. He drew a small dagger tucked in his waist belt and aimed at his rival's right shoulder. He let go of the dagger with full might intending to slash the captain's stronger arm. It missed its aim and struck his shield on the chest. The shield moved down exposing the wide chest of the captain.

  Mekal's soldiers continued to shoot arrows at Kosala men from behind the bushes. Kosala's soldiers were running and hiding to save their life. They ducked low to duck the barrage of arrows aimed to take their life. Suddenly, one such arrow missed its intended target and hit a flying bird on its way. The injured bird plummeted down towards ground and landed on Dhananjay's right shoulder. This disrupted his concentration and for a split of moment he took his eyes off his enemy's sword and looked at the bloodied bird now lying at his feet. The commander smelled the opportunity and moved his sword so fast that Dhananjay only realized its impact when his sword fell on the ground. He was now armless. He looked ahead at the tall man pointing his sword on Dhananjay's chest. Dhananjay stood baffled; scared for his life and confused at the sudden turn of the events.

  Dhananjay looked up at the man who could easily behead him a moment ago but was still standing with his sword on his chest. Maybe he wanted to give Dhananjay another valiant chance to pick up his sword and to fight him man-to-man. The ethics of war required such behaviour on the battlefield.

  Dhananjay stood bewildered looking at his rival standing victorious and yet vulnerable in front of him. Something was going to give. Suddenly, a blood-soiled tip of a sword emerged out of the middle of the commander's chest. Dhananjay saw Neel standing behind the commander who collapsed in front of him as if lightning had hit him. Neel sliced his sword out of the captain's body and looked down at the fallen captain with disdain.

  “You, slayers of dharma! You have proved that regardless of how much wars you fight, a Shudra remains a lowly disgraceful devoid of any ethics of war.” cried the fallen commander at the top of his waning voice.

  “Dharma! You talk about the ethics and morals. You people, who deprive others of the right to live peacefully in their own land. We have to fight our battle of survival, even if we have to defy the so-called rules of wars and ethics, this is our dharma!” roared Neel.

  “The talk of morals does not suit your tongue young man,” said the commander lying in the pool of fresh blood still spurting out of his wounded chest, “Those who kill their opponents from behind like a coward don't have a right to talk of such things. You'll gain no respect this way—not from your own people, from history, or even from your own self.”

  “Yes, everybody knows who has enslaved history and society. You people make your own definition of justice and ethics as per your convenience. Even a Nishada king is simply a Shudra for you. In a civilization where dharma has been distorted by the rulers to suit their needs, we have to fight a battle for our existence, and we cannot care more for the just or the fair in the war to win it.”

  But the commander wasn't alive to hear Neel's reply. He lay with his eyes wide open as if still looking for a justification for the betrayal that led to his fall.

  The fall of their commander and incessant strikes from Mekal men devastated the remaining Kosala soldiers. To add to their agony, another battalion of Mekal stormed towards to them. That proved to be the final nail in their coffin. They were comprehensibly beaten and those who remained alive haplessly surrendered on by bowing to their knees.

  Neel glanced at Dhananjay with a proud smile and they both shared the joy of victory without uttering a single word. He raised both his hands and waved at his soldiers, acknowledging their bravery. He looked at the enemy soldiers down on their knees and said, “We have nothing personal against you. We, in fact, have no real enmity against Kosala and its people. Our battle aims only to salvage our pride and identity. We only want the same respect back from you and your people. If you want to expand and spread on the expense of our identity, we will never allow that to happen. Now it's up to the Yaduvanshis whether they want progress or destruction. You are soldiers too, and we respect you. You will not be treated as prisoners of war but only as our guests. We are forced to imprison you because some of our men and women are in captivity in your prisons. We will negotiate their freedom in exchange of your return.”

  Chapter 9

  It was a damp monsoon morning. The wet monsoon days were almost over. Nights were getting longer with every passing day. Sun slumbered longer than usual to shine upon the hazy mornings.

  Gunjan looked up at the morning sky still filled with stars. It seemed like a farm filled with millions of paddies shining through. It was an auspicious day. It was the Pola festival of the farmers. It marked an end to a long and laborious Kharif season. Farmers celebrated this as some thanksgiving, for their oxen tilled their farms all these months. Gunjan's oxen helped him earn his livelihood by carting his carriage. He had named them Shambhu and Nandu. On the Pola day, he always paid his gratitude by washing and decorating them. Later he would take them to the festival with the hope that they would win the race.

  “Aditi, look who is here! Damodar, how come you are here in this cattle festival? We thought you'd be roaming in your horse carriage that 'runs like the wind'.” said Shatvari and she smirked at Aditi with the usual sparkle. Aditi elbowed her from underneath her scarf and laughed.

  Damodar promptly responded, “Seems your indifference has affected my horse also. The poor beast is not well today.”

  “Thank God that you are well. Shatvari has driven a lot of boys crazy in our village.” said Aditi.

  “Nothing surprising in that. Shatvari is indeed so beautiful that anybody would become crazy and fall in love. But I just want to be friends. Our families are already on good terms and we both have a flair for music. So, why not know each other better?” said Damodar.

  Aditi looked at Shatvari who blushed at Damodar's remark. Aditi said, “A young boy and a girl cannot remain just friends for long. Either they develop a fancy for each other or fall apart.”

  Shatvari heard Aditi's remark and it made her think. She looked away and got lost. Suddenly, she found herself
pondering upon a seemingly useless thought. She shook her head and started to fiddle with a lock of her hair, twisting and turning it around her index finger.

  Aditi knew she had made an impact on both Damodar and Shatvari. But before she could assess the situation any further, she noticed a pair of beautifully decorated oxen coming forward with Gunjan. The sight of Shambhu and Nandu with Gunjan gave her an excuse to change the topic. Gunjan walked on with an unusual playfulness. He was whistling and walking slowly, enjoying his own self. The oxen echoed Gunjan's tipsy mood. Maybe because today they were walking like two free animals having no cart to pull.

  “Hello Gunjan, your companions today are looking more attractive than you!” said Aditi as Gunjan came by their side.

  “Of course, it's their day. That's the whole point, isn't it?” replied Gunjan. He bowed and greeted Shatvari and Damodar.

  Shatvari was still trying to come out of the previous round of thoughts. She knew it was becoming obvious. She asked, “There is a race as well today Gunjan. Are your oxen going to compete?”

  “Yes, why not? My Shambhu won the race last year and I am looking forward to this year's race for sure,” replied Gunjan.

  “You must be proud. Are you confident for this year?”

  “Of course. There's no point in competing if you don't want to win.”

  “They have become lazy and weak by carrying light weight women all day. My ox Bheema toils in farms all day, he is the real contender. He is going to win,” a voice came from behind them. It was Veera. Tall, strongly built, clad in a red stripes loincloth.

  Veera was the son of a rich farmer. His father had hundreds of acres of land in and around the village. He was a respectable man and many small farmers worked for him.

  Veera was an old friend of Damodar. His physical build clearly reflected that he was as fond of bodybuilding as he was of working in farm. He loved wrestling and other physical sports. His ox Bheema was of a different breed than rest of the oxen in the village. Strong, sturdy and with an arrogant vitality in the eyes Bheema looked like a raging bull than a meek farm cattle. Veera decorated his body with bright colours and painted images of swords, daggers and javelins. Its two rounded horns were painted red.

  Gunjan felt uneasy at Veera's words and his presence. It wasn't sensible to argue with him. He had a reputation of picking up quarrels. He was both physically and financially a strongman.

  Shatvari felt awful at the way Veera spoke. She also felt that Gunjan should have given a befitting reply. However, she moved forward, stroked the head of Shambhu and Nandu and said, “We'll see what wins—masculine ego or feminine love.”

  Veera looked at Shatvari, he pursed his lips to say something but stopped. He simply moved on looking at Gunjan, Shatvari and Aditi and patted Damodar on his shoulder and said, “Let's go, my friend, and enjoy the event rather than waste our time here among the women.”

  Then he gave Gunjan a taunting look as if he was counting him also among women.

  Gunjan couldn't stand Veera insulting him in such a way. “Insulting others is not manliness either,” he said.

  “If you care so much about your pride then do something worthy of respect. Gossiping with women doesn't help garnering any respect.” Veera taunted him again.

  “So, picking fights for no reason helps gaining respect?”

  “You'd only fight with someone if you yourself knew any tricks of wrestling, you weakling!”

  “Yeah, you think I know nothing about fighting, but I do not believe in picking fights without any reason.”

  “Really! If you know about wrestling, then prove it. Let's have a bout. Why are you standing cosy, holding onto a girl's hand for comfort?”

  Veera was clearly excited and pumped up now. Although Gunjan was trying his best to remain calm, Shatvari knew sooner or later his masculine ego would come into play. She held his hand more strongly and pressed hard as if to suggest him not to pay attention to Veera's threats. She knew Gunjan had no chance if a duel between the two happened.

  Veera sensed that Shatvari was trying to protect Gunjan. “You know fighting and wrestling is for real men and not for people like you who hide behind a girl's scarf.”

  “What do you know about a woman's love, attention and support? Seems like nothing. Maybe you never even got to feel your mother's lap,” interrupted Aditi now.

  Veera seemed visibly upset by that remark. He had lost his mother when he was a little boy. He really had no motherly love as his stepmother never treated him well. He tried to look not affected at all by her remark and said to Gunjan, “Will you just let the women speak for you all your life, or say something yourself?”

  “Say what? There is no court here that I should defend and argue for myself. You are unnecessarily stretching the matter,” replied Gunjan.

  “Why don't you accept that you can't even argue to defend yourself? Why not go to one corner and double-check whether you are a man at all!” Veera laughed aloud like a jinni released from captivity.

  It was evident that Veera was desperate and helpless at the same time.

  Gunjan's patience was running out. He couldn't hold himself off due to the continuous insults from Veera. Every time he tried to lunge forward Shatvari would hold his hand even tighter.

  Damodar was upset at the way Shatvari protected Gunjan and held his hand. Out of fury, he wished that it would be a good lesson for Gunjan if Veera thrashed him in a duel. He said, “What's the problem Gunjan? Maybe you are not an expert wrestler, but you are adept at kabaddi. Coming from behind to topple your opponent is your trick.”

  That was the final blow on Gunjan's patience. He stepped forward and said, “So be it, Veera, if that's what you want let's see how much of a man you are!”

  Shatvari wanted to run after him as he let go of her hand. But she could see that he had made up his mind. She stayed back and crossed her heart with her hands and folded them, intertwined into each other, to pray.

  Gunjan and Veera tightened up their loincloths and now stood in front of each other for a duel. Veera's towering figure, wide chest, and solid shoulders made Gunjan look like a limp collection of flesh and bones. Even though Veera was muscular and big, his bulging tummy pointed towards his liking for food and wine. In contrast, Gunjan was lanky but athletic with not an ounce of extra bulge anywhere.

  Shatvari stood hapless looking at them. She knew that even though Gunjan was courageous and wiry, the contest was still surely uneven.

  Veera was looking at Gunjan just like a hunter enjoying the sight of a trapped deer in his trap. He was going to tear Gunjan apart.

  Gunjan stood silent and composed. He had no plans, whatsoever except to face whatever was coming his way.

  Both bowed down to lock their heads and hands in a combat position. Veera pushed with both his hands and threw Gunjan off balance. Sensing the opportunity, he quickly tackled Gunjan's right foot, curled his arm round his neck and lifted him up and dropped him on the ground with a thud. Gunjan fell on his right arm and got up sooner. He saw the gap between Veera's legs, he thought of trying the kabaddi trick of shoving his head between Veera's legs and lifting him up and throwing down. As soon he rushed to attempt his trick, Veera read his intentions and quickly tripped a step aside and grabbing Gunjan's waist, threw him in air. Gunjan had his back to the floor. A slight moan of anguish passed his lips. It seemed his back was seriously hurt. Veera sensed this opportunity and pounced upon Gunjan, but he was surprised to see that his rival had quickly rolled over and sprung up.

  Both fighters again regained their stance, locked fists and tried their strength. Veera knew that Gunjan's back was hurt in the previous fall. One more descent to the ground would be enough for Gunjan. He quickly pulled Gunjan towards him, bent down, grabbed both his feet from behind, lifted him upon his shoulders and plummeted him down towards the ground. This time around Gunjan couldn't get up and simply lay on the ground in visible pain. Veera quickly jumped upon Gunjan and sat on his chest. Gunjan tried with all his strength
to push him back but Veera was almost double his body weight. Veera took Gunjan's right arm and twisted it around his neck. Gunjan cried in agony but Veera continued to twist it further.

  Shatvari couldn't continue to watch hapless Gunjan's state. It was evident that Gunjan was totally subdued and Veera was not going to give his stance away. He was enjoying Gunjan's pain. She shouted at the top of her voice, “You have already won the bout, now leave him alone. Are you going to kill him?”

  Shatvari's plea fell on Veera's deaf ears. He wasn't in a mood to give up. He continued to hold Gunjan's arm and now entwined his right arm around Gunjan's neck as if he was now hell bent to kill him. Shatvari looked at Damodar who was now a bit stunned at the unfolding events in front of him. He went forward towards Veera and said, “Leave him now Veera, you are going beyond all rules and ethics of wrestling.”

  Veera looked at Damodar and said, “Now you too want to come in support of him together with the girls. I am going to make sure I make him bleed today.”

  “Stop it Veera, you are not going to do anything violent. Leave him, or I will have to intervene.”

  “Really! Who is scared of you? See, how you changed sides for a girl.”

  Damodar said nothing but moved ahead and grabbed Veera's arm that held Gunjan's neck. Veera let go of Gunjan and wanted to grab Damodar's waist but Damodar quickly turned around and grasped Veera's hands. Damodar tried to tackle and throw Veera off balance. But in the effort, they both fell to the ground together. Damodar fell on his belly and Veera snapped back to jump up on Damodar's back. Veera took Damodar's right arm and twisted it backwards. Lying on his belly with face down and one arm being twisted by Veera, Damodar was helpless and in pain.