She had just one thought. She hoped that she would
remember everything from this life that she was giving up. All the fear, all the
hurt and most importantly, the fury.
With Shiva’s name on her lips, she stepped into
the scorching pyre.
---X---
The girl looked around furtively. No one was
around. Neither her parents, nor the courtiers, not even the guards. She was prepared
this time. Dragging a spear, twice her height and multiple times her weight,
she poked the garland. Trying to dislodge it. She poked and prodded for what
seemed like an eternity until the garland, fell – right over her neck.
Ever since she had lain eyes on them, she had
wanted them. She was curious and a little bit scared, because everyone else in
the palace revered it to the extent of praying in front of it. For what felt
like a few minutes, she fingered the lotuses on the garland. The never-fading
lotuses. A rich blue in colour. Unlike any of the other lotuses she had seen. She
patted them with fondness and a sense of victory at her achievement.
Suddenly she heard a rustle. Frightened, she
looked around. No, there wasn’t anyone here. Again, she heard it, stronger this
time. She felt the lotuses move under her fingers. Almost as if in a daze, she
held them up. The rustling grew louder. There was only word that was being
repeated. She knew that word. From within the layers of her subconscious, the images
flowed. She was caught in a whirlpool of memories. She knew that name.
AMBA.
---X---
Not knowing where to go or what to do, Amba sat
down by the riverside. Returning to her father’s kingdom was out of question. There
was nowhere she could go, none she could turn for solace to. She looked at the
flowing river and wondered the course her life had taken. From what she was to
who she was now.
[Pic courtesy: http://isha.sadhguru.org/blog/yoga-meditation/history-of-yoga/mahabharat-ep8-ambas-plight/ ]
Crown Princess of Kashi. The eldest born. Sister to
Ambika and Ambalika. Lover of Shalva.
These were the adages one could assign to her. Her
life, a fairly peaceful one, her future, a fairly predictable one but in line
with what she wanted. She had been looking forward to the swayamvar. She knew
who she wanted and she had been ready to garland Shalva, when a commotion broke
out. She heard rumours, about Bhishma, who was also attending the swayamvar. She
had heard the murmurs and the whispers of jeer directed at him, ridiculing him
at showing up at a swayamvar when he had taken an oath of celibacy.
And then all hell had broken loose.
---X---
Shikandini walked around the palace aimlessly. Ever
since she wore the garland, her father, King of Panchala, seems a little wary
of her. He had been keeping a safe distance, unwilling to meet her eye and he
kept eyeing the garland as though it may catch fire at any time.
She couldn’t concentrate on her classes, her
archery or her pastimes. She had been getting flashes of regressed memories,
and things were slowly becoming clearer. She now had another name to focus
upon.
Bhishma.
She tried asking her father about him, in an attempt
to retrieve more memories. The lashing she received in return, shook her to her
very core. She had left the palace grounds in a fit of anger,
and now upon realizing that dusk had fallen upon her, she looked around to see
herself in a forest clearing. She had no idea how she had ended up there, and why
it seemed extremely familiar to her.
---X---
Amba was at the verge of breaking down. She was
now drawing up on the last vestiges of her strength, trudging her tired and
inert body from Saubala back to Hastinapura. She had been taunted and rejected
by Shalva, on the basis that she could no longer belong to him or anyone else since
Bhishma abducted her and her sisters for marriage to his brother, fighting and
winning over the rest of assembled kings. The Kshatriya pride in him was slighted,
he said.
She was ready to wed Vichitraveerya, if only to
regain whatever remained of her dignity. Upon returning to Hastinapura, she
found her sisters in wedded bliss, and she felt the same scornful expression
emanating from Vichitraveerya, albeit under the reasoning that her heart
belonged to someone else. Brushing aside her ego, she now turned to Bhishma,
who was watching the proceedings. Yet, Bhishma too, refused her proposal,
stating that he was bound by his vow. However, he said she could stay on at the
palace. Snubbed, she left Hastinapura.
She didn’t blame Shalva, she only felt disgusted
at him. As for Vichitraveerya, he was merely a puppet at the hands of Bhishma. Her
wrath was only directed at Bhishma. She was in this unfavourable situation only
because of him and his actions. Hell, hath no fury like a woman scorned. Her anger
at Bhishma knew no bounds. The burning need for revenge kept her going.
She walked for days, foraging whatever food she
could find, drifting along kingdoms asking for help to fight and defeat
Bhishma. She passed by riverbanks and forests. At one of the forests, she met
sages who advised her to forget the past and appease the higher powers,
becoming a tapasvini. She couldn’t let go of her anger, however, she had now
found a way.
---X---
(to
be continued)
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