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“Bhraata Balram, Subhadra herself needs to be asked…” I nearly enter the hall at a run at the sound of Bhraata Krishn’s voice but stop as I hear my own name.
Schooling my face into an expression of mature interest, I step into the room, clearing my throat. “What do I need to be asked, Bhraata Krishn? How was your trip to Indraprastha this time? I see you are spending so much time with them.” Bhraata Krishn looks pointedly at Bhraata Balram, who clears his throat.
What is it this time? “Subhadra…you are maturing into”-Oh, not that again. “A young woman of marriageable age, Bhraata Balram, I know that.” Bhraata Krishn huffs out a laugh. “To this discussion, so frequently initiated, my answer remains the same. I will marry, Bhraata Balram. However, I will marry only when I like a man of my choosing. I’m Bhraata Krishn’s sister for a reason. He chose Rukmini, did he not, with her consent? Or, more correctly, I’d say that she chose him with her consent.” Bhraata Krishn nods. “So shall I choose a man I consider worthy of my own self.”
I look at Bhraata Krishn, my eyes conveying words unsaid. He forces a smile on his face. “Well. You asked about my trip to Indraprastha, did you not?” Taking the cue, I nod back. “I know what you are interested in. Parth.” I flush. “Bhraata Krishn!” Arjun is an interesting man. “It’s your fault. The way you talk about him, Arjun this and Arjun that, you sound half besotted with him!” “Oh, don’t try to hide it, sister.” “I do not know what he is as a man. He is a warrior beyond peer, no doubt. From the stories you tell, he seems to be a good man. Someone who is considerate.” “Too considerate for his own good, perhaps.” “Bhraata Krishn?” “Some things have to be seen to be understood, Subhadrey.” I cannot get any more out of Bhraata Krishn then. I sigh. He can be so cryptic sometimes.
In the days that follow, I ask around enough to find out that he is in exile. It’s Bhraata Krishn who tells me that he is in Anga at the moment, doing the dashing heroics he is known for’ as Bhraata Krishn puts it. I laugh. “You do realize you are not doing any favors? You are just increasing my interest in the man. He seems like a hero straight out of legends.” Bhraata Krishn laughs back. “I know. Don’t say that to him, though. He shies away from such things.” “If it were me, I would revel in the attention.” He cocks his head at me. “You and Arjun are actually more alike than you realize.” “Is that so?” He nods. “How comforting.”
After that, Arjun is not mentioned for a long time. By my brothers, at least. No, of late, Rajkumar Arjun is the favourite subject of my lady companions, urged on, no doubt, by Bhraata Krishn. Despite myself, I find myself paying attention to his whereabouts, laughing at the overblown stories that make their way to my hearing. I know better than most how much an actual incident can get distorted in the course of retellings. After all, I only had to look at Bhraata Krishn to realize that anew.
Raised voices interrupt yet another gleeful huddle of me and my companions. I had been enacting stories to general hilarity. ‘Dau, you are thinking far too much about her marriage prospects! Shouldn’t she be asked whether she wants to serve a yati or not?’ Surprisingly, it is Bhraata Krishn’s voice that is overriding Bhraata Balram’s. ‘It is a great honour, Krishn. You know that. Everyone knows that to serve a sage is nothing short of a boon in itself. Why do you have to disagree on everything, these days?’ ‘A sage is a man too,’ Bhraata Krishn mutters.
I incline my head at my companions, striding out. ‘I think you will find that she has ears too,’ I quip. ‘What is this about?’ ‘Dau found a wandering sage for you to serve, unmarried maiden that you are. For the same reason, I am wary of him, knowing nothing of who he is, I do not think it is wise to trust someone of your nature to him.’ I arch a brow. ‘Someone of my nature? I am not flighty, Bhraata Krishn, and just because you do not appreciate the social mores of politeness, doesn’t mean that all of us are the same. I will be glad to assist.’ ‘Dreaming of divine sons that soon, Subhadre?’ ‘Oh, will you stop?’ I snap, striding ahead. ‘Subhadre. A little more restraint, a little more grace, sister. Sages might have certain…expectations of a gently bred woman.’
I roll my eyes at him, but contain my steps nonetheless. When we arrive at the lavishly appointed antechamber that Bhraata Balram has set aside for the sage, I am taken aback to find a tall young man standing there, draped in saffron though he is, used as I was to associating sages with old venerable, white-bearded men.
My brothers bow in greeting, Bhraata Krishn rather less effusively than our elder brother, and I follow. ‘Pranaam, swami,’ I look at him with a carefully learned smile, trying to assess him. ‘I will do what I can to make your stay here a comfortable one.’ He inclines his head back, graciously polite. ‘Dhanyavadham, Rajkumari. I hope my stay here is not too taxing to you.’ ‘Oh, of course not,’ it is Bhraata Balram who speaks on my behalf. ‘I hope my sister would acquit herself well, mahodya,’ ‘She has examples in our own family, Dau, never fear. One only needs to look at aunt Pritha.’ ‘Yes, of course, a most noble example, Kanha, but’-
Bhraata Balram’s voice begins to carry the tinge of exasperation, which is unexpectedly interrupted by our guest. The sage averts his gaze, clearing his throat before he speaks, a tad uncomfortable. ‘Do not worry, Rajkumari,’ he responds, his voice a lilt, sounding at once amused and shy, ‘I do not expect you to be ma-Mahamatra Kunti. I know you are your own person. I look forward to your company should you wish it.’ ‘Oh,’ asks Bhraata Balram, ‘have you met aunt Pritha?’ The yati swallows. ‘I have had the honor, yes,’ he says softly, offering no more. ‘An honor indeed,’ drawls Bhraata Krishn, by way of closure.
Years of courtly politics, even if unorthodox, makes it easy to identify the chinks in a man’s armor. (Or if that isn’t enough, fraternizing with Rukmini definitely is). Why would a sage be uncomfortable at the mention of aunt Pritha?
I do not think much of it at first, attributing it to the man’s natural shyness.
Yet, as the days go by, as I stay close to him, I observe him. The care he takes to behave properly with me. The quiet courtesy. Even the way he holds himself seems like the shadow of someone familiar, rather than a sage.
I take to my lady companions, who, I felt, would know more of men and sages than I. That, it turns out, was a mistake. ‘So, Subhadrey, you choose a sage to give your heart to!’ exclaims Kalyani, one of my closest friends. Taken aback, I stutter out a ‘no!’ shaking my head. ‘It’s not like that. I am just…confused.’ ‘Hmm.’ She nods knowingly. ‘That’s how infatuation begins, sakhi,’ she laughs. I huff, walking out of the room. Does she not have any other thoughts?
I am still distracted when I head out to the kridakshetr, bow in hand. Bhraata Krishn is waiting for me when I reach there. ‘First day, and you begin in a fine fashion,’ he drawls. ‘Some of us actually have things to do, you know,’ I riposte. ‘Oh? And what, pray, are those things?’ ‘You wish you knew, Bhraatashree.’ I grin, picking the bow up. ‘Ah,’ he grins back, winking, ‘the young sage. Did you take a fancy to him?’ I swat him on the shoulder, reaching on tiptoes. ‘Honestly, you sound like my lady companions. The man is interesting, however.’ ‘Oh, is that so?’ Bhraata Krishn has a smile on his face. ‘Yes,’ I reply absently, ‘there is something strange with him. He doesn’t behave like I would have expected a sage to.’ ‘Not all sages are Rishi Durvasa, Subhdarey,’ he laughs. I swat him again, picking the bow up. ‘Never mind that. Now tell me, where should I shoot this?’ ‘Ah, no, we won’t start with shooting arrows so quickly. First, we will learn the stances.’
The eight stances of archery, it turns out, are extremely boring. Honestly sleep-inducing. Bhraata Krishn laughs at my drooping eyes. ‘You’re supposed to go into dhyana, Subhadrey, not nidra.’ ‘Well, it’s not my fault the whole business is as boring as it is!’ He snorts. ‘You’re flighty, you mean.’ ‘I need something to do, Bhraata Krishn.’ He shakes his head. ‘If you want me to teach you even the very basics of archery, you will need these stances. Find another teacher if you wish to be indulged.’ I huff. ‘I’ll try,’ I reply. ‘See that you do,’ he instructs with a smile.
The next morning, when I enter the yati’s chambers, his eyes are shut as he smoothly moves through vaguely familiar positions. It is when he kneels on the ground and pushes forward that I recognize the posture. ‘You know archery,’ I observe automatically, quiet.
In the stillness of the chambers, however, my voice is louder than I intended it to be, and his eyes snap open, as he eases into a position with his legs spread apart and knees slightly bent, a position Bhraata Krishn had specified is used by proficient archers to shoot difficult targets. I hold back a sigh. If only the positions themselves were as easy as he seems to find them.
He straightens, his feet once again close to each other, and smiles at me, casually tying his angvastr at his waist. ‘Yes, Princess, I do,’ he replies smoothly. ‘Am I wrong in thinking that a knowledge of archery might not be common for sages and brahmanas, rishivar?’ Smile still on his face, he replies ‘You are not wrong. However, most warriors learn Dhanurveda from a Guru who is a Brahmana.’ I nod, considering. ‘You do not seem to be teaching, however. Do you wish to teach?’ ‘I have taught, before,’ he answers. ‘I thought you were doing tapasya, however,’ I observe. He nods. ‘I am.’ ‘What kind of a tapasya is a warrior’s training, then?’ I enquire.
‘Perhaps you need to be reminded of Brahmarishi Vishvamitra, Rajkumari,’ he responds. ‘Brahmarishi Vishvamitra, arya, was a Kshatriya by origin. Do you mean to say you are similar in that regard, or that you wish to become a Brahmarishi?’ ‘You can say that I am descended from him in a manner of speaking,’ he responds, ‘and that is why I undertake a warrior’s training. However, I hold no lofty ambitions of becoming a Brahmarishi.’ ‘Ah, I see. You present an interesting conundrum, arya,’ I smile back at him. ‘Might I be so bold to inquire the course of your penance?’ ‘Of course, Rajkumari,’ he accedes. ‘I travelled across the land, to Manalura. On my way back to my destination, I happened upon some people plagued by a crocodile menace. I helped them to the best of my ability. I crossed Anga before I came here. The masses of Anga needed some help which their King was unable to provide. I did what I could. Before I go back, I came here at the behest of your brother.’
The story fills in the gaps I had in my own mind regarding his identity, strengthening my doubts into something approaching a semblance of fact. ‘A very succinct story, arya. The deeds you tell of are already spoken of in stories that have reached my ears. So, you are a Kshatriya indeed, ‘I pronounce, smiling at him, ‘and a descendant of Vishvamitra himself.’ I finish, dropping my voice. ‘Shall I proceed with arghya, Rajkumar Arjun?’
He laughs, full and rich. ‘Krishn was right,’ he says through laughter. ‘You are astute. You have my respects, Rajkumari.’ ‘And you mine. Shall I take the good news to Bhraata Balram? I should have been suspicious the moment Bhraata Krishn of all people was worried about my modesty.’ He grins. ‘It will be as you wish. Krishn told me that you wished to meet me for myself, though he impressed upon me the need for secrecy, seeing that your brother is hunting eligible suitors for your hand, among which I am, sadly, not lucky enough to find myself.’
He gestures at himself. ‘Hence the need for’ he continues, tugging lightly at the saffron draped over his shoulders, ‘this.’
I tilt my head towards him. ‘Do you know of the suitors Bhraata Balram favours?’ I ask. He shakes his head. ‘I only know that I am not one of them, my fortunes too precarious for a Princess of your stature.’ I choke back laughter. ‘A Princess of my status, indeed. So says the man who won the Princess of Panchal.’
‘Well,’ I reply, ‘whether he likes it or not, the choice of my groom will be mine. And I would like to know you better before I make that choice.’ ‘I shall be glad to oblige.’
Oblige he does, and very beautifully at that. We spend days together, laughing at each other’s foibles. He tells me tales of his family and his life, and I do the same. He ends up being a better teacher for me than Bhraata Krishn, for when he guides my body through the same positions Bhraata Krishn had, I find myself hard-pressed to concentrate on much else, so intense his concentration is. (Bhraata Krishn, of course, would say it was because of the ‘fact’ that Arjun is more indulgent of me than he, something Arjun himself laughingly concurred with once.)
And so, I make my choice and choose him for the man to take my hand and be my husband. Bhraata Krishn is our enthusiastic supporter, his enthusiasm best expressed in the way he orchestrates our marriage, with Arjun spiriting me away from the Raitvaka festival. Arjun gamely goes along with the plan, pulling it off, though Bhraata Balaram is nearly apoplectic when he does so, and he finds himself with a war almost waged on him. However, even Bhraata Balaram cannot deny me my choice, and between me and Bhraata Krishn, we convince him to accept Arjun, albeit grudgingly at first. When I run into difficulties getting Panchali to accept me in Indraprastha, Arjun is quick to point out his own struggle that lasted for most of the year we were in Prabhasa. Thankfully, my own ‘struggle’ is over in a matter of minutes in the face of it, and it takes a few more months for I and Panchali to become the fast friends we always will be.
Our only detractors in the end were the Kauravas’ gossip mongers, who were quick to slander Arjun over my ‘abduction.’ I laugh when I hear of it, told dramatically as it was by my brother and my husband. ‘I cannot fathom,’ my husband sighs, ‘why you would remain in the company of a demon such as I, who snatched your fair self from your homeland.’ Even he cannot keep his face straight through that sentence. I laugh anew with him, my arms capturing him in an embrace. ‘Let them say what they will. At least you had the bravery to approach me yourself, unlike Duryodhana who used that minion of his to abduct the Princess of Kalinga.’
Arjun stares at me for a moment before breaking into gales of choked laughter. ‘So you would quote that as the reason we are together? That I had the gumption to kidnap you personally, and not that you were part and parcel of the plan?’ ‘Anyone who thinks I allowed myself to be dragged off while I had my brother’s support at my back is a fool, Arjun, they do not have the capacity to understand. So let this be what they think.’ I wink at him. ‘You and I know the truth of what happened, and that is enough.’ His hands link with mine as he smiles. ‘Yes,’ he replies, smile on his face still, ‘that is enough. We are enough.’ I nod at him. ‘We are happy, together. We are enough.’ And so it is.