part0013

They rode out at dawn, on the third day, making their way through the city of Ujjaini where some early risers watched the riders with amusement. City dogs barked and trailed them, but eventually gave up, unable to match the speed of the horses. After crossing the city, the sight of the mighty plains, the lush countryside of Avanti greeted them. A stone road beckoned the travellers.

‘We will get off the highway by early afternoon and take a parallel road thereafter,’ Rana added.

The green and yellow crops bordering the grey stretch of road painted a picturesque scene. The terrain was even, and the plains extended to about a hundred miles. They would have to sail on the Ganga, thereafter. The tall, dense kusha grass danced in gay abandon. The grass blades were sharp enough to inflict injury, if touched with bare hands.

During the day, they took cover in the long grass or under a thicket of trees to resist the hot summer sun. Even the horses would get exhausted. Camouflaging in the wilderness helped them dupe spies.

After two days of riding, they reached the dry plains of Avanti. The trio stopped to allow their fatigued bodies some rest. The night was silent, and only the wafting of the breeze against the rustling tree leaves could be heard. They built a makeshift tent at a small clearing near the dense fields — by the side of a large tree — a short distance from the highway. After their meal, Vikram and Rana went to sleep, while Ashwatthama kept vigil.

Staring at the landscape, Ashwatthama found himself gripped by thoughts. His childhood memories with his father, his friendship with the Kauravas, everything came back to him. He yearned to be a warrior again. He had been reduced to a mere shadow of his past self, thrown into a journey that belonged to someone else, of undertakings he did not choose for himself. He was lost, and he could do nothing about it.

A murmur in the grass broke into Ashwatthama’s reverie. At first, he thought it was just his imagination. But moments later, the murmur was audible again. This time Ashwatthama drew out his sword and stood up. Something was clearly moving in the grass. Whatever it was, the earth shook slightly with every stride of this unidentified creature.

It was extremely difficult to spot anything in the dark. Ashwatthama could only sense something huge moving a few feet away. Suddenly, the creature hissed.

‘SNAKES!’ Ashwatthama yelled. Vikram and Rana woke up with a jolt and grabbed their swords.

Despite its size, the goh was swift and agile. Its body was made of thin scales. Suddenly it made an unexpected move with its tail knocking Vikram off his feet. Vikram was dazed by the sudden blow. That was enough for the goh. It placed its front paw on Vikram, and pinned him to the ground. Now resting atop Vikram, it pulled out its tongue to lick him. Trapped under the weight of the reptile, Vikram couldn’t move an inch. He saw death approaching him as the goh’s swishing tongue inched closer.

Before the goh’s tongue could touch Vikram, the reptile’s eyes bulged out, its tongue rolled back. In a swift move, Rana had jumped from the tree branch, and plunged his sword into the goh’s heart. The goh collapsed and Vikram was spared a dishonourable death.

Ashwatthama looked at the dead reptile, stunned. The goh’s mouth was open with its tongue hanging out. Rana helped Vikram get up.

‘Nice. It desperately wanted to kiss you. You still know how to work your charm, my friend,’ Rana chuckled, smiling mischievously at Vikram.

‘Shut up,’ Vikram said, frazzled.

They saw Ashwatthama, who was still looking at the goh, transfixed.

‘What are you thinking?’ Rana asked. ‘It is dead.’

‘Yes, but, we can’t leave it in the open. It’s too dangerous for other travellers. I will cover it with some earth and grass,’ Ashwatthama said.

‘Are you sure?’ Vikram asked.

‘It will take a moment,’ Ashwatthama persisted, putting his sword in the sheath. He tried to drag the reptile by its tail. However, the weight of the reptile seemed too much for him. Vikram and Rana joined him in his endeavour. They dug a small hole, while Ashwatthama watched from afar. He cut a few thick kusha grass leaves, and sealed the goh’s mouth. Moments later, they pushed the goh into the small hole, and filled it up. They returned to their grove, and freshened up. Ashwatthama didn’t utter a word, and went to sleep. He felt thirsty for wine, the kind he had learnt to make using special ingredients. He preferred being in an intoxicated state all the time. It not only relieved him of the constant burning sensation, but also calmed his agitated mind. Without the daily potion, he grumbled in pain. There was hardly anything he could do. He tried to close his eyes and go off to sleep.

‘Is he okay?’ Rana asked, looking at him, ‘He was not injured, right?’

‘I think not,’ Vikram said, in a whisper, ‘maybe tired.’

‘Why don’t you go and take some rest? It’s my turn to keep watch. I will wake you up in a few hours, and you can cover,’ Rana suggested.

‘Fine,’ Vikram said, preparing his straw bed. He tried not to think of the goh. He looked at the stars, instead, and thought of his wife Manvita, and their daughter Shrutika. The past few days had been difficult. Everyone’s life was at stake. If Dandak rises, the first targets would be the members of the royal family. They will be massacred before anyone else. The common folk could be spared, since they always submit to authority. Evil cannot survive if people find courage in their hearts to stand up for the good. Evil thrives on the weaknesses of men. Evil rises on their shoulders; it feeds on bloodshed and death. Being a silent spectator wouldn’t help. Evil can only be defeated by determination and self-belief.

The stars in the sky looked like scattered jewels, and slowly, Vikram slipped into deep slumber. He dreamed of a happier and more peaceful world.

The next few days were eventless. They set off from Avanti and rode across the plains of River Ganga, traversing through grime and gravel. Often, they had to stop and remove stones, thorns, and dirt from their horses’ hooves. Afternoons were incredibly hot. Winter was about three months away. Vikram was concerned that by the time they reach the Himavant Ranges, winter would be at its peak. Navigating through snow would be perilous.

On the twenty-third day, they reached the shores of River Ganga. Monsoons had settled in, the heat subsided, and the cool winds made it easier to travel during the day. The horses were less tired, and fewer breaks sufficed for the trio.

The mighty Ganga looked maginificent. The water was clear and pristine.

‘Let us camp here at the shores. We need to build a boat to sail on the river,’ Vikram said.

‘It would take us at least three days to build the boat, and then another five nights to go upriver to Hastinapur. As planned, we will be sailing against the natural current, and that will demand more effort from us. Let us not go too deep into the river. The riverbank should be within an hour’s reach. Due to poor visibility, we will camp at night. Who knows, we might end up taking a wrong tributary, or worse, be hit by rocks. Near Hastinapur, the current becomes stronger, and we would need to keep rowing northwards. The last few miles will be covered by land,’ Vikram elaborated.

They spent the next two days cutting trees from nearby forests to build their boat. On the third day, after joining different logs, nailing them properly, they made a hut-like shelter on the boat to protect themselves from the torrential rains. The bottom of the boat was secured to ensure it remained afloat in case of a storm. The boat was sufficiently big, and could also carry their horses and supplies along. Rana carved the peacock figurehead perched on the tip of the hull.

‘To keep the snakes at bay?’ Vikram grinned.

‘More like gohs,’ Rana replied, and they both laughed.

Next day, the trio started early morning. The river was calm at the shores, but, it was known to be wild halfway through, where it was also the deepest. They had made a separate shelter for the horses as well, and filled it with sand and straw for the horses to keep warm during the journey. They had stocked their supplies with whatever fruits and eatables they could find on their way. The river water was potable.

The first four days were devoid of adventure. The fifth evening into their cruise, they faced heavy rains. Ashwatthama had covered the boat with thick banana leaves, but violent thunderstorms added to their misery.

In such adverse weather condition, it became hard to control the boat. The boat began to wobble. Rana and Ashwatthama kept rowing the boat with all their might, while Vikram ensured there were no rocks or fallen tree branches that could collide with their boat. The stars in the sky helped Vikram see that they steered along the right direction. The river currents were so strong that no matter how hard they tried steering the boat towards the shore, the boat would keep moving straight. It looked as if it would rain through the night. Vikram feared their boat would capsize any moment.

Ashwatthama stared into the dark waters. He thought he saw a blue glow. He looked hard.

‘What is it?’ Rana asked.

‘I felt something moved in the water,’ he replied, still looking into the water to find something. Was it a figment of his imagination?

Suddenly, the boat picked up speed and moved fast. They had to exert little effort in rowing. This surprised Ashwatthama. The currents flowing against them, were incorrigible and still they could row smoothly. Finally, it dawned on Ashwatthama. Without any delay, he fixed one end of a rope to the mast, and tied the other end around his waist.

‘What are you doing?’ Rana shouted.

‘I will be back,’ Ashwatthama announced, and plunged into the water while both Vikram and Rana looked with dismay.

Ashwatthama disappeared for a few minutes, and then, turned up again on the other side of the boat. Rana crossed over and pulled him up.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ he asked, panicking, his voice getting drowned in the heavy rains.

Ashwatthama had to shout for his companions to hear him.

‘It is as I feared. Under our boat is a Panis — a five-headed snake, from the depths of Rasatala. To destroy it, one has to kill all its five heads at once. If that fails, it attacks with renewed fury. It is right under our boat, which explains why our boat is moving so fast without any effort. It might be taking us somewhere, or it might be trying to...’

Ashwatthama had not completed his sentence when the boat rocked. The horses became restless.

‘...sink the boat,’ Ashwatthama warned his friends.

‘What do we do now?’ Vikram yelled, ‘We cannot fight underwater.’

Ashwatthama hurried towards the rear of the boat where they had stored their stock. He rummaged through and brought out a large folded banana leaf. He tied the leaf to the end of an arrow.

The boat rocked again, this time, almost toppling over. Ashwatthama ran to the middle of the boat, and picked up a rope. He checked if the rope around his waist was tied to the mast. With the bow and arrow on his shoulders, along with his sword, he took a deep breath, and dived into the water again. Vikram and Rana were clueless about their able companion’s intention.

Underwater, the Panis continued to swim, taking the boat along. Its eyes glowed red in the black depths, and a blue fire emanated from its mouth. Ashwatthama had the bottom of the boat within his grip as he continued to look at the Panis, contemplating its next attack. But the Panis was fast. One of its heads turned and saw Ashwatthama, and then, all the five heads looked back. It hissed in anger, and changing its direction without any warning, it now swam towards Ashwatthama. He held the bottom of the boat with all his strength, until the Panis approached closer. As the Panis prepared to launch an attack and strike him, Ashwatthma ducked, and the Panis jumped out of the water furious about missing its target. As it came out of the water, Vikram and Rana saw the beast in all its glory. The Panis looked angrily at them for a moment, while afloat, then dived back into the water to kill Ashwatthama, who was moving ahead with the boat. The Panis made one more attempt and rushed towards Ashwatthama, who had tied a knot with his rope around a carving on the underside of the boat to free his hands, and was now armed with his bow and arrow, ready to shoot. The cold water slapping against his face dimmed his vision, but the Panis’ red eyes glowed. It darted towards the warrior. Ashwatthama pulled the arrow and released it, targeting the Panis’ open mouth. The arrow went straight into the snake’s mouth. The mighty creature let out a groan and a hiss. Writhing in tremendous pain and shaking violently, the reptile turned motionless after a few seconds. The blue glow from its mouth faded, and the reptile started sinking. Ashwatthama watched it disappear into the depths. He held on to the rope, and climbed upwards, finally, appearing above the surface of the water, almost breathless. Vikram and Rana pulled him up.