Chapter 8 - At War - 2

Gangapur

Acharya Chyavana entered his private quarters with a grave air. He had seen Sanga follow Durmukha and him, and eavesdrop on their conversation. The only reason Sanga was still safe was because Durmukha had his back to the tree trunk where Sanga had been hiding. They couldn't always hope for such good fortune. His father, the Purohita, in his last letter had suggested that the secret service of Vatsa and their group Gyandoot must officially join hands. Perhaps the time for this was now.

Chyavana carefully left the door slightly ajar and went in. He sat with his back to the door and waited. Would Sanga attack him, or confront him?, he wondered. It was risky, but the time to play it safe had passed. Chyavana was trained in martial arts, but it was Sanga’s abhorrence for violence that he was counting on.

The letter Durmukha had given him was still in his hand. He opened it and checked if there was any encoded text. There was none. Good, he thought. He had carefully removed the seal, there didn’t seem to be any tampering but it was better to play it safe when the messenger was Commander Durumukha.

‘My dear Son’, his father began in the letter.

‘You must know by now that we will be shortly going to war with Vatsa. While Durmukhaji leaves with his battalion today, I will be following a few days later as part of the Crown Prince Vishvajit’s entourage. I therefore hope to see you soon. I thought we could meet at the basecamp at Chunar, but Chandra feels that we should stopover at Gangapur on our way to Chunar. Please plan for it.

You may be surprised at the choice of the base camp. Indeed, the border town of Chunar wasn’t our first choice. We had hoped to construct a permanent base camp in the interior of Magadha, as is the normal practise, but we are short of time due to unexpected events in Vatsa. We are therefore forced to establish the base camp right next to the war zone. It is a risky choice. If we succeed, we shall be vindicated, but if we fail, we will have to suffer the consequences of such an elementary mistake. …’

Chyavana heard footsteps outside. It was Sanga, he was sure. He braced himself for whatever would happen next.

‘Ouch…’, someone cried.

It was Sanga’s voice, Chyavana realized. He rushed out.

‘Acharyaji, this youth was trying to break in’, a soldier informed him.

Chyavana looked at the scene before him. Two soldiers were tightly grasping Sanga, while he struggled.

‘Brother, How come you are still stationed here’, Chyavana asked the soldier.

‘The commander was worried about your safety and had us stay behind for your protection. Good thing we caught him’, the soldier replied with a grin.

Was Durmukha really concerned or had he become suspicious?, Chyavana wondered. Either way, this was an additional complication for he would now have to watch every step. He looked at Sanga. Sanga’s eyes were blazing.

‘Why don’t you just kill …’, Sanga began in a fierce tone.

‘I am sorry, I am sorry Sanga’, Chyavana interrupted him.

Chyavana turned to the soldiers and said in a cold voice.

‘This is my friend Sanga. He lives in the neighboring village of Divyasthal and is here on a visit. I don’t appreciate my friends being manhandled.’

‘Oh, then it is a misunderstanding Acharyaji.’, the soldier replied, as he let go of Sanga’s hand.

‘Please accept our apologies’, they said and quickly disappeared, eager to avoid any further chastisement.

‘Still double-dealing?’, Sanga asked sarcastically, once the soldiers had left.

‘You can drop the act. I know who you really are’, he added.

‘Yes, I am the son of the Purohita. Why don’t you come in? You can ask me whatever you like, once we are seated’, Chyavana said in a neutral tone.

Sanga was surprised. There was neither malice nor defensiveness in Chyavana’s mannerisms. Infact, the sincerity that was characteristic of him was still there. Unconsciously, Sanga followed him inside.

Sanga sat opposite to Chyavana and eyed him warily. His gaze fell on the letter Chyavana had been reading.

‘Go on, help yourself’, Chyavana said, pointing to the letter.

Sanga picked it up and began to read.

‘There is nothing in the letter that can prove that I haven’t double-crossed you. All I can say is that I haven’t betrayed Gyanadoot', Chyavana said in a low voice.

‘And how do you expect me to believe you? For all I know the identities of our comrades...I mean.. my comrades has been compromised. I am not a fool to take you at your word’, Sanga said, as he put down the letter.

‘We, i.e my father and I, are part of Vatsa’s spy network. We are stationed in Magadha at the order of our King, King Mahendra’, Chyavana wrote on a piece of paper and held it up for Sanga to read.

Sanga was stunned at this revelation.

‘I cannot offer you any proof and put my father in danger. But I am happy to submit to any other test that you might have for me’, Chyavana added, as he lit a fire and burned the note.

Sanga thought about this new twist. What Acharya Chyavana said made sense. But was he to be trusted, Sanga wondered.

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‘I will relate this to Gramikaji, the rest will be up to him’, Sanga finally said.

‘That will be helpful. Keeping this secret from him has weighed heavily on my conscience’, Chyavana replied.

They had reached a truce of sorts. Both remained silent for a while.

‘So, what did you think of today’s Panchayat meeting?’, Sanga asked, breaking the silence.

‘Is it normal for people in power to use flowery language, even when their behavior and actions are just the opposite?’, he added sarcastically.

‘Hypocrisy is not a virtue, but it does seem to be the norm among many. These folk feel good, when they sound good. They imagine that they are, what they portray. The delusion lasts for a while, because they don’t realize that people can see through their true nature. After all, words can impress once, maybe twice, after that it is their actions that must speak for themselves.

But hypocrites rarely change, because very few people will call out their hypocrisy, either to avoid awkwardness, or painful repercussions.’, Chyavana replied with a wry smile.

**********

3 days later

‘Phew!’, Kailashnath exclaimed as he set his bag on the floor. He was about to knock when the door flew open.

‘Father, we were expecting you yesterday’, Bhola said, giving him a tight hug.

Sanga hurried out from one of the rooms and touched his feet.

‘God bless you, my child’, he said, raising Sanga up.

Sanga picked up the luggage and carried it to the study. Kailashnath and Bhola followed in silence.

It had been several minutes since they all sat down, but no one spoke. Kailashnath watched them carefully - Bhola was clasping his hands and unclasping them repeatedly, and Sanga’s gaze was fixed to the floor. Nervousness and suppressed anger, he deduced. He recognized these emotions from personal experience. This morning as he had entered Gangapur, several villagers had pulled him aside for a chat. By now, he had heard about the events at the Panchayat meeting several times over. The events had been narrated in a range of emotions but fear and anger were the chief of them.

‘If we let our emotions overwhelm us, we lose our ability to think’, he finally said in a soft voice.

Bhola and Sanga looked up at him.

‘Why don’t you tell me what happened’, he added.

Between the two of them, Bhola and Sanga narrated the events of the Panchayat meeting. It was cathartic for them to relieve their pent up emotions.

‘My Sons’, Kailashnath spoke when they had finished narrating.

‘Do you really think that it matters what Govardhanji asked?’

Bhola and Sanga were puzzled.

‘If they were seeking to convince us, an easy reply to the question ‘why go to war?’ was - We have a message from the King which will answer your question.

But that was not the intent. They were setting the tone, to make it explicit who was in charge. If not Govardhanji, it would have been someone else. Maybe I would have been slapped, had I been present. After all, what better way to stamp their authority?’, Kailashnath added.

Both of them gasped at the thought.

Kailashnath stood up and began to pace the room, to relieve the agitation that he was beginning to feel.

‘If no one spoke, they would still find a reason to hit someone. It is their standard routine - Make one person a scapegoat to send a warning to the rest. They performed the same exercise in Chunar’, Kailashnath said.

Bhola and Sanga were shocked.

‘Doesn’t it anger you?’, Sanga asked after a few moments.

Kailashnath sat down. He felt calmer after having expended his energy.

‘I do. But more than anger, I feel a sense of helplessness. They are obviously more powerful than us, and they are well prepared. They expect the villagers to be enraged and rebel. If we fall into their trap, we only end up harming ourselves and our prospects. The reality is that we need a more planned approach and this will take time’, Kailashnath replied.

‘What about our daily humiliations? Are we to be submissive and let them think that they have won?’, Sanga asked in a voice louder than usual.

‘Why not? We must swallow up our pride, until we are stronger to take them head on.’, Kailashnath replied.

If someone other than Kailashnathji had made this suggestion, Sanga would have walked out of the room. He valued his self-respect highly and the thought of letting people walk all over him was anathema to him. But since the suggestion came from Kailashnathji, he was forced to give it serious thought. He was slowly realizing that self-respect was less about expressing indignation at being treated unfairly, and more about enduring the consequences of standing up for yourself. It was late in the night before Sanga could get Kailashnathji alone and narrate the events involving Acharya Chyavana.

Kailashnath was stunned at the revelation. A whirlpool of thoughts engulfed him and he excused himself. Better get some sleep, a fresh day would bring a fresh mind and fresh thoughts, he thought and hit the bed.

**********

10 days later

Durmukha surveyed the fencing that had just been completed. The cluster of Gangapur, Divyasthal and Chunar had been fenced from all four sides, and guards had been placed at every two hundred meters. To manage the discontent brewing among the villagers, they had permitted movement within the cluster. Several villagers in Gangapur had relations in Divyasthal and Chunar, and it made the lockdown more palatable to them when they saw their relations in the same circumstances.

The Crown Prince, Vishvajit’s entourage was expected to pass Gangapur today on its way to Chunar. The Purohita, Atri, would be making a stopover to meet his son. The military had taken over the Traveller’s inn at Gangapur and Durmukha had made arrangements for the Purohita to stay there until nightfall, when he would be transported in a covered carriage to the Ashram.

It was still early though, and for now, he went to the officers tent nearby and proceeded to take a nap.

‘They are coming Sir’, a soldier reported at noon.

Durmukha quickly tidied himself and rushed out. The welcome group was ready. Durmukha mounted his horse and they all rode forward to greet the entourage.

**********

It was late in the evening and Acharya Chyavana was waiting anxiously for his fathers arrival. After an interminable wait, there was the sound of a carriage and Chyavana hurried out. The sight of his father stepping out of the carriage brought forth a burst of feeling. He embraced his father tightly and there was a shimmer of tears in both of their eyes. There was something reassuring about seeing someone you trust in an alien and hostile land. They stood like that for a few minutes. His father was to leave for Chunar the next morning, and they knew not when they would meet again.

‘Shall we go in, Sir? It may not be safe to stay out too long.’

Chyavana looked up to see his Father’s bodyguard, Chandra, who had accompanied them from Vatsa.

‘You are right, Chandra’, Chyavana said with a smile.

Chyavana settled his father in his room and stepped outside to cook in the semi-enclosed kitchen.

‘Vikarnaji has sent a message’, Chandra had followed Chyavana outside and now handed him a note.

Chyavana quickly took the note and scanned the encoded content. It was a single line.

‘Keep Atriji in Gangapur.’

Chandra handed Chyavana a small bottle.

‘We have no choice’, Chandra said in response to Chyavana’s questioning gaze.

Keeping his father safe when they were camped in the warzone was a complication that Vikarna, Chief of Vatsa’s Defence, could do without. Chyavana knew that his father could be careless at times. Quietly he added a few drops of liquid from the bottle into his father’s porridge. The stomach cramps and vomiting began late at night. It was followed by a fever and by morning his father was bedridden. Chyavana despatched a message to the Commander about a delay in his father’s journey.

Durmukha’s face was grim when he came and saw Atriji’s condition. It would be impossible to transport the Purohita to the base camp in this condition. His travel would have to be delayed by at least two to three days.

‘I am planning to travel to Chunar today. I will inform the Prince’, he finally said to Chyavana.

Atriji watched Durmukha leave and reproached his son.

‘Why pull this stunt? My acting skills are phenomenal, you know!’

‘We didn’t have time for a trial run.’, Chyavana replied with a wink.