Amba - The Mahabharata Chronicles #12 - Part 2

Dusk had now turned into night. And yet, Shikandini, was entranced by the clearing and couldn’t move away. Everything seemed so familiar and yet nothing was clear. She found a smooth rock surface under a tree and sat down. She closed her eyes, in a bid to clear her mind and almost as if she had done this before, crossed her legs into the ‘padmasana’ pose and started chanting Lord Shiva’s name. The rhythm came to her naturally, the breathing settled into a regular tempo and she submitted herself completely to the consciousness.

---X---

Amba sat in penance invoking the warrior god, the commander of the devas – Kartikeya. He was the only one she knew capable of defeating Bhishma. Days passed, months passed, and years flew by. Amba’s austerities soon forced Kartikeya to reveal himself in front of her. She fell at his feet and beseeched him to defeat Bhishma. Kartikeya smiled. He gave her a garland of blue lotuses and told her that whoever wore the garland would be able to defeat Bhishma. Overjoyed, she thanked him endlessly and set out on pursuit to find the one warrior, who would wear the garland and fulfil her revenge.

Amba walked high and low, visited multiple kingdoms and yet, none dared to wear the garland. At the very end, she turned to Drupada, mighty King of Panchala. When he heard who, he had to fight, Drupada refused her, stating that he wished to live and not die. Enraged, Amba threw the garland at him, which he deflected, and it ended up atop a pillar in his palace.

Without a backward glance, she left the palace.

---X---

Shikandini opened her eyes. She was seeing things much clearer now.

She heard a noise nearby. No doubt, an animal. She stealthily approached it and was horrified to see a Yaksha caught in a hunter’s trap. The Yaksha, Sthunakarna beseeched Shikhandini to set him free. Taking pity upon him, she freed him. He thanked her and before running into the forest, told her that whenever she needed help of any sort, she just had to beckon him and he would be at her side.  

Still in a daze, about what she had witnessed during her meditation, Shikhandini walked towards the palace, wearing the garland.

---X---

Bhishma. It was amusing how one man could have changed the trajectory of her life so easily. She thought of his lean body and his toned arms. He wore his battle scars proudly. There wasn’t a man who could defeat him, she had heard. When Vichitraveerya had rejected her, she had thought Bhishma would man up and marry her. After all, she was in this situation because of him. But he hadn’t.

She remembered that day vividly.  It was etched in her mind, branded with hot coals. She had reasoned, argued and when it did not work, pleaded, begged, fallen at his feet, asking him to accept her and save her from ridicule. He hadn’t budged. She admired the tenacity of the man in spite of his rejection of her. She wondered what caused a man who was otherwise well-endowed with everything to take up such a terrible oath. She wondered how it would be to tame that iron-will and mould it with her passion. But it was all futile.

And now she was here. Back at the forest. Back at the clearing.

---X---

Shikandini was unsettled. She was feeling a multitude of emotions. Panic gripped her. She could not fully comprehend the turmoil inside her mind and yet she was unable to be calm. In flashes, she felt anger yet she knew not for what or against whom. She wanted to return to the forest. She wanted to sit on the stone in the clearing and she wanted to let her mind move of its free will.

And now she was here. Back at the forest. Back at the clearing.

---X---

Amba started her penance again with fervour. This time, she called upon the destroyer himself. She invoked Lord Shiva, practicing such severe austerities that soon she was just skin and bone. She was emancipated and she could feel her life ebbing away. Her rigorous penance made Lord Shiva appear in front of her. She prostrated herself at his feet and sobbed her heart out. Shiva heard her patiently. He lifted her up and explained to her that it was impossible for her to kill Bhishma in this lifetime. Amba was shattered. Shiva then told her that however, if she wished, she could be reborn to kill Bhishma. He told her that it wouldn’t be an easy task, for Bhishma was a great warrior. Amba had no second thoughts. She accepted it.

Shiva told her that she would be born as a princess to King Drupada, she will then realize the purpose of her life by means of the very garland gifted by his son, and take up arms to avenge herself. She would lead in the battlefield as a man, and she would be the commander to the forces of Panchal. He revealed to her that she would remember this past life and her thirst for revenge would span lives.

Amba was ready. Let down by men numerous times, first in the form of her lover and then in form of her abductor and whoever else she turned to, she vowed that she, a woman, would bring about the downfall of the mighty Bhishma.  If no man could avenge her, she would avenge herself.  

[Pic courtesy: http://kamajaya-78.deviantart.com/art/Srikandi-313580437] 

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---

Shikandini opened her eyes with a jolt. The purpose of her life had been revealed to her. From now on, all her waking moments would be dedicated to Bhishma and how to bring his end. She summoned the Yaksha and told him what she wanted. Sthunakarna granted her wish. She discarded all her ornaments. She took her sword and chopped off her long locks. She walked back to the palace, filled with purpose.

Years hence, she would meet Bhishma on the battlefield. They would face each other once again and this time he would have to listen to her. She would make sure he did. No oath and no vow could now come between them.

[Pic courtesy: http://rahulsketchbook.deviantart.com/art/Amba-587664299]

She was AMBA. Reborn as a phoenix does from its ashes. As SHIKANDI. 

Amba - The Mahabharata Chronicles #12 - Part 1

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)

Devavrata - The Mahabharata Chronicles #2

He lay on his bed of arrows, fashioned very kindly by one of his grandsons, the so-called best archer in the world. He was tired. Of this mortal life. Of all the burdens that he had borne. It had not been a pleasant few days. Then again, he supposed a curse would have to play out like this. But it would soon be over. This pain. This suffering. And the mental agony. But for that he would have to wait it out a while longer.

He couldn’t wait to get back to his world. The realm of Vaikuntha. The world where he was Prabhasa – one of the eight Vasus. Slated to live out his life as a mortal, for the transgression of trying to steal the divine cow, Nandhini, for his wife. In retrospect, he figured it could have been much worse. His brothers were luckier. They were released from the mortal life, as soon as they were born for having been just co-conspirators in the offence. Him on the other hand, he had to live this out.

Gifted man, he was. He who could remember all his previous lives. He who was given a boon by his father that he could choose when he wanted death to embrace him. A boon that he did not know to label whether as a curse or a blessing. And so he waited. Until Uttarayana. Until the glorious Sun turned his journey northward. The most auspicious time.

And while he waited he remembered his lives. This mortal life especially.

In this life, he was Devavrata.  The eighth-born son of King Shantanu and Goddess Ganga. His was a very colourful childhood. Brought up amongst the residents of the river of which his mother was reigning sovereign, he was taught very many things by its varied inhabitants. By the time he grew into a strapping young man, he was aware of much more than others his age. He understood the language of the flora and fauna that surrounded them, he had his own way of communicating with his mother, the river-goddess and he was admired as one of the most knowledgeable and level headed lads around. He was initiated under Bhargava Parashurama, for training in weaponry and combat of war. And then, he was introduced to his father. The father for whose happiness, he took upon a vow of lifelong celibacy. The father who bestowed upon him, the boon of choosing his time of death.

[Pic Couresty: http://molee.deviantart.com/]

The shocking vow that he undertook earned him another name – Bhishma, He of the terrible oath. This was the name that the world knew him as, though more often he was affectionately revered as Bhishma Pitamah. Pledged to serve the ruling king of the dynasty that he was a part of, he had lived a long life. The kingdom had flourished under his administration, but the cracks in the family legacy deeply left their scars. Some had healed. While the others had just faded away because nothing could be done about them. However, there was one that had been reopened today. At the battlefield. His hour of reckoning.

Amba.

The fiery outspoken princess of Kashi. The woman whose tenacious gaze had disconcerted him. He could sense in her a wilfulness that he admired. It wouldn’t have been easy. To stand up in the testosterone-filled sabha and speak out her mind. Yet she had done that. And in spite of that, he had abducted her along with her sisters, for his brother. But on the way back, when her stubbornness had abated a bit, she had started telling him about Shalva, the one who had usurped her heart. He had listened, non-committedly, wondering what made such a feisty girl such as herself, fall for someone so conventional. But he hadn’t let the thoughts take root. Instead, with a benevolent gaze and a confused mind, he had helped her onto another chariot and set her on forth to where her heart was trapped. He had thought it would be the last time he set his eyes on her. Only, she had come back, in a state of shock, having been sent away by Shalva, who refused to accept her, citing the fact that he had lost to Bhishma, while trying to rescue her and it still rankled him.

Amba had come back to the Kuru palace and beseeched to him, to give her an answer for her predicament. He had in turn entreated to his brother, who originally was supposed to marry her. His brother, now happy with his two wives (sisters of Amba), had refused as well, insisting that her heart lay elsewhere. Amba had again beheld him with her resolute stare, demanding an answer to the question. He on the other hand had no answers. She then, as a last resort had asked him to break his vow and marry her. So that she may have a little bit of dignity restored. He had refused, stating that he couldn’t break his vow. Not even for her. She had then blamed him. For the situation that she was in. For the situation he had landed her in. But there was no way that he could help her. She stayed on for a while at the Hastinapur palace. He let her be.

However, she had succeeded in making him uneasy. Disturbed even. With her fierceness. With her aggressive nature. With her hatred towards him, the loathing which grew over time. The intensity of which had one day, led to her proclaiming that she would be the reason for his downfall, before she left the palace for places unknown. She had reappeared, once with his master, whom she had begged to fight him. The fight went on for a few days, before master and disciple decided it was to no cause. Her fury had then been unleashed. She had raved and ranted like a mad woman, berating him and then as suddenly as she had appeared, she had left. Some time, later he heard that she had killed herself, in order to be reborn to bring about his ruin.

Over the years, he thought of her sometimes. Without any rhyme or reason. A sentence spoken here, a word heard there, a particular stare felt from a corner. He still felt guilty. But the guilt was reduced by reasoning that he had still kept his vow. But sometimes, just sometimes, he couldn’t help wonder. What it would have been to live with her. His determination and her spirit. His calm nature against her fiery temperament. His toughness versus her resolve. But it wasn’t meant to be.

He had seen her again today. At the battlefield. His hour of reckoning. Phoenix like. Reborn from the ashes.

He was the only one who recognized her. Still the smoldering stare. Still the hatred emanating for ruining her life.

The others only knew about her. They knew her now as Shikhandi. He on the other hand, KNEW her. KNEW what she was. And how she came to be who she was now.

This time, he accepted it, laying down his arms. He was done here. He wanted no more of this life. He did not a see a point in it. So he had let his grand-son shielded by her, pierce him with his arrows. He had seen the accomplishment in her eyes. The cry of triumph, worded silently. She was appeased now. As was he.

No more blame. No more guilt. No more remorse.

And so now he waited.

And while he waited, called upon the thousand names of his redeemer. Sri Vishnu Sahasranama – Bhishmena Kathitha. Vyasena Grathitha.