To Be Young Again, Part 2
Rohini Gupta
28 May 2008, 07:34Continued From “To Be Young Again” Part One
At night Puru dreamed of his brothers, Druhyu and Anu They were laughing, and calling to one another. They wore gold crowns, and the finest silks and servants waited on them. He saw them lounging on thrones that sparkled in the light.
In his dreams he stood at the door, calling to them but the room was too vast and they could not hear him. He tried to enter and the guards swung their spears in the way. He looked down at himself and saw that he was dressed like a servant in the livery of Yayati’s kingdom. The guards laughed at him and drove him away with blows and kicks.
He woke depressed every morning and dragged himself to work. Now that he was on kitchen duty he had to be in the hot, cavernous kitchen long before sunrise. He was one of the few boys in the kitchen who was not a brahmin and could not wear the brahmin choti. Non brahmins could not touch food, so he and three other boys got the hard labour.
He began the day by sweeping and scrubbing the kitchen floor. When that was done he had to clean out the fireplaces. He carried wood and kept the fire going. He and another boy carried the huge two handed vessels to the well and staggered back when they were full of water. His muscles ached husking coconuts with the curved sickle. Then there were the greasy iron and copper vessels to wash, to scour with sand, coconut fibre and soapnut.
His day was long and exhausting. The other boys did their chores mindlessly and went off to play games when the long day was over, but Puru was not used to hard labour and all his muscles protested. He had just enough energy to eat and stagger home to bed. His mother was usually asleep already and in the morning she was gone before he woke.
She looked weary and there were dark circles under her eyes. He hardly had time to speak to her. When he went into the kitchen she was already there, sitting with the other women, peeling fruit, churning buttermilk, removing the tiny black specks from the grains of pale rice.
At least the head cook had been kinder to his mother than to him. She had a place to sit on the veranda that fronted the entire building. She and the other women talked softly, sometimes sang together and occasionally, laughed.
They were not so kind with Puru who was young and agile. He made no complaint. He did everything they told him. But sometimes he paused in his chores to look towards the palace. When would this nightmare end? When would his father send for him?
He lived in a haze of exhaustion and pain. His mother said, “hope for nothing from your father. I would be surprised if he even remembered that you exist.”
At first he believed she was wrong. Every day he wondered if it would happen today. Weeks passed. No message ever came. The cool evenings turned into the stifling heat of summer. The kitchen became a steaming furnace.
One evening when he retuned after dark his mother was sitting on the grass outside, waiting for him.
“The king has gone to my father’s kingdom,” she said.
Puru knew then that the hope was over. His mother was right. His father would do nothing, say nothing, would leave him a servant for life.
“If they have called him it must be bad,”Sharmishta said. “Guru Shukra must be angry.” she saw the confusion on Puru’s face and said impatiently, “haven’t you been keeping track ? After she spoke to us the Queen left for her father’s house. Now the king has gone too. Guru Shukra must have summoned him.”
“Is that bad ?”
“Of course it is. If he curses your father, he may curse us too. Pray for mercy.”
Morning and evening, however late it became, Sharmishta went to the small shrine which the servants frequented. She knelt before the Goddess and placed a flower of a fruit at her feet. Keep us safe, protect my son, have mercy on us.
Puru searched the wild growth at the edge of the forests, brought wild marigold, figs or gooseberries, small, hard, sour mangoes, a single red hibiscus, white champa, a lotus from the stream or bright orange clusters of berries which the birds loved. He looked up into the benign, smiling face of the Mother and he prayed, help us, please help us. Give us our freedom and let me make a new life for my mother and myself. Please help us.
Summer came and went. The heavy heat lightened under the weight of black monsoon clouds. The forests were full of the shrill calls of peacocks, and in the fields, they danced a shimmering blue green dance. The rains came in one huge deafening thunderstorm, hammering wind and rain all night. In the morning the once bare earth had turned into a bright green wonderland.
The kitchen relaxed. The King and Queen had not returned and the court was empty. The season of the rains made travel unlikely. If they had not returned before the four months of rain, they would remain until the festival of the Goddess heralded the end of the monsoon. That meant months of ease for the kitchen staff.
It did not reduce Puru’s workload. There were still fires to light and vessels to wash. Many of the migrant labourers returned to their villages to help with the rice planting, investing their year’s earnings on seeds. Puru and the other boys who had nowhere else to go carried the load, struggling through the rain puddles, drenched to the skin every time they went out for firewood or water.
The work was still heavy but Puru found it easier. His young body had adjusted to the hard labour. As his muscles filled out he no longer staggered under his heavy burdens and he was no longer so exhausted in the evenings. He was not sure which was worse. When he staggered mindlessly to bed he had no time to think, but now he had time to worry about the future,
Except that there was no future. He could find no solution. If he followed his brothers he would be at their orders for life. He wanted independence, he wanted it desperately but the youngest son was the last one to get a life of his own. His only choice was to leave and go far away where he could rise by his own talents, in some unknown land.
Mother had told him, your birth is unfortunate. If I was my father’s son you would have a throne of your own, even a small one. But I am his daughter, and you are a daughter’s son, so who will care for you ?
A hundred times he almost told his mother, “I will go to you father’s kingdom and ask for his help.” But he never said it. He suspected his grandfather had forgotten them as easily as his father. Besides his mother was beginning to worry him. She looked tired and drained. Some days she did not get out of bed and when he returned late in the evening she was sitting on the stairs looking ill.
Sometimes, to distract her, he asked her to tell him the stories of her childhood, of the faraway kingdom by the sea, which he might never get to visit. It always brought a smile to her face. For a while she became animated again. Then she would stop abruptly, mid sentence, and get up and go away. Puru was wise enough to leave her alone after that.
He knew what was bothering her though she would not admit it, and he could do nothing about it. He tried to reason with her, “mother, so what if he curses us ? I don’t believe in curses. Let him do his worse.”
“Don’t talk like that. You don’t understand anything.”
She spent more and more of her time sitting by the small shrine, crying. On days when she was too weak to go she reminded Puru to take offerings for her, and not to forget his prayers.
Puru prayed but not the prayer his mother expected. He sat by the shrine and prayed, give me a sign. Shall I take my mother and go away from here ? I am young. I could find employment in some other kingdom. Give me a sign.
Nothing happened. No sign came. The days brought no more than dirty vessels and aching muscles. How did it come to this ? At least in my previous life I had time to sit with my father and learn the running of the kingdom. He had spent wonderful hours with Chief Minister Sumantu, and had been allowed to read the scrolls in his office. Now no one would even look at him. Wearing the livery of Kuru he was faceless, invisible. Who looked at servants ?
Months passed. The rains slowed, the sun shone briefly through overcast skies. A courier came to announce that the King and Queen were returning. That evening he sat beside Sharmishta and said,”why wait, mother ? There is no future here. Let us leave and go to some other kingdom where I can make a new life for us.”
“Don’t even think that. You don’t know the Queen. Her father would find us even if we hid in heaven. We can do nothing but pray.”
“Is he really that powerful ?”
“I hope you never find out.” she said.
The day the King returned the rumours began. Puru heard the whispers, the kitchen was full of them. One rumour said the king an invalid, another said he was deformed. They all agreed that he had been cursed.
“They say he is dying,” Puru told his mother.
“He wont die so soon. If Guru Shukra wanted him dead he would have killed him on the spot. No, he will give him some lingering problem. My son, be more careful than you have ever been in your life. Stay far away from the palaces, and if any royalty come your way leave very quickly. If they have forgotten you, make sure it stays that way.”
But at night, alone before the Goddess shrine, with an offering of wild hibiscus, Puru found himself thinking of his father. Even a curse would be better than this miserable existence with no prospects and no future. Even a curse would be welcome if it ended this.
Then he realised what he was thinking and the depth of his own despair frightened him. He hastily made pranaams and rose to leave. He had turned away when the harsh voice of one of the cook’s stopped him.
“You, boy, report to the kitchen at once.”
Puru found the assistant cook standing behind him, looking rumpled as if he had been woken from a sound sleep.
“Now? But we have finished work and the fires have been put out for the night.”
“Are you going to stand here and argue? You are late already. Run !”
Puru ran, his heart thumping.
The kitchen was in turmoil. The head cook was standing in the middle shouting orders which no one seemed to hear. The cooking fires were burning again and a couple of the young brahmin apprentices were running around too panicked even to know what they were doing. Puru sidestepped one of them, rescued a clay pot from crashing on the floor and found his way to the head cook.
Relief showed on the head cooks face as soon as he saw him, “Mahadev, he found you. The king has called a meeting in the throne room and I have only these two stupid boys who keep dropping things.”
“A meeting at this time of the night?”
The head cook put both his hands on Puru’s shoulders and said, “listen to me, boy, you are like my son. This is an emergency, and I need you. Do your job well and I will put in a word for you with the supervisor. Who knows he may send you back to court.”
Puru did not put much hope in that, but he said, “what needs to be done?”
The cook shouted at one of the boys as a large vessel of milk on the fire began to overflow. Puru helped him remove it before all its contents landed on the floor. The cook shouted to them to mop up quickly and turned back to Puru.
“You have served in the throne room, you know the etiquette. Make sure there is nothing lacking in our service tonight.”
Puru remembered his mother’s words, “I am not allowed in the throne room, sir.”
“Tonight there is no choice. Someone must supervise and you are the only one who even knows what the throne room looks like. The king has come back in a foul temper. He has sacked two of his servants already. If the service is lacking he may just sack us all.”
Puru hesitated, knowing he should not be doing this. But the head cook had already taken his assent for granted and returned to shouting orders and preparing plates of late night food for an angry king.
Puru entered the King’s outer chamber followed by the three nervous young apprentices. He carried the gold plates, cups and serving dishes and each boy behind him carried the steaming pots of food. The kings servants were scurrying around tidying up, lighting the huge, standing lamps with their hundreds of wicks. The room still smelled of disuse, in spite of the burning braziers of sandalwood incense.
Puru asked one terrified looking servant if the King usually called these midnight meetings.
“Never. Something is very wrong. They say he’s been cursed.”
Puru was busy for a while. The royal seats had gem encrusted tables between them. It was his job to make sure each table had a tray and cups. The cook had provided fruits and trays of milk and dry fruit sweets, and hot savouries. The kitchen boys made several trips bringing it all and Puru arranged each golden platter carefully, making sure nothing was lacking.
He had just begun laying them out on the tables between the silken seats when the Princes came in. Puru focussed on his chores, paying them no attention, remaining discreet.
When he had finished with the trays, he added the tall jugs of honeyed drinks and date palm wines, and he was just pouring the last cup when he saw the faces of the two Princes who sat chatting on either side of it. At first he did not recognise them, dressed in silks, wearing Princely crowns and the golden snake armband of his mother’s kingdom.
He stood there frozen, gaping, trying to see his brothers in the faces of these two distant strangers. Finally they stopped talking and looked up at him, and then he was certain.
“Dhruyu, Anu,” he said, “I had no idea that you were back. Why didn’t you send word? Its wonderful ! You look so good I almost did not recognise you.”
There was no answering smile on their faces. They looked at him with suspicion, taking in the servants livery. Anu said cautiously, “Puru, is that you, what are you doing here?”
“I work here,” Puru said, “its so good to have you back, mother will be delighted. Come with me and we will surprise her when this is over.”
Dhruyu shifted uncomfortably, looking away, “the thing is, Puru, I don’t think we can. Things are different now.”
Anu tried to explain, “how will it look if we come by the servant’s quarters? But don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten you. Tomorrow, in the evening, bring mother to our rooms. Tell her we have gifts for her.”
“We have gifts for you too.” Dhruyu said, “Expensive gifts. You will be delighted.”
“I see.” Puru said, “You are royalty now.” In their faces he saw little trace of the brothers he has known.
“Yes,” Dhruyu said, “I am so glad you understand. But don’t worry, we are now in a position to help you out.”
“Come and see us tomorrow evening – in private.” Anu told him.
Puru stepped back to return to his chores.
“And make sure you come by the servant’s back door,” Dhruyu added.
Puru walked away and busied himself in the arrangements. When he looked back his brothers were talking softly together as if nothing had happened. The Crown Prince Yadu came and joined them, talking to them easily, as friends. Yadu put a hand on Dhruyu’s shoulder and said something that made them smile. Puru watched from the background. No one looked in his direction. His uniform had made him faceless.
Crown prince Yadu’s younger brother, Turvasu walked in, and not seeing his father walked across saying loudly, “what does the old man want now ?”
Yadu shrugged, “I am sure we will find out.”
“I think the curse has made him senile.” Turvasu said, “I suppose he wants to ask us something difficult, otherwise he would have just sent us orders.”
They chatted. Puru stood near the door and let the young brahmins to serve them. His brothers ate everything with interest, the Crown Princes touched nothing. Puru was replenishing the trays when they all stopped talking, cutting off mid sentence.
An old man was standing just at the door, leaning on the wall. He was dressed like royalty but his clothes were crumpled as if he had slept in them. He looked distraught. He took a step forward and swayed. The Princes had all fallen silent, watching, but making no move to help him.
Puru hesitated, not wanting to step forward, wondering who he was, but when he tottered again and would have fallen, Puru stepped forward to support him. It was only when the old man grasped his shoulder that Puru recognised his father.
He went rigid with shock, but King Yayati took no notice. Leaning on Puru he went to his throne and sat down. No one moved or spoke.
The King looked up at Puru, “send all the servants away. You, stay.”
All the servants bowed and left quickly. Puru stepped back standing as far out of notice as he could. He looked at Yayati and could not believe what he saw. There was no trace of the vibrant Yayati he had known. This Yayati looked old, weak and sick.
The radiant charisma was gone, the youthful energy was gone. He was suddenly decades older. His face was the face of an old man, deep pockets underlined his sunken eyes, his hair was grey and his wrinkled hands shook as he rested them on the cushioned arm of the throne.
To think I did not believe in curses, Puru thought, if the sage could do this no wonder mother is so afraid.
“My sons,”Yayati said in a wavering old man’s voice, “see what I have become because of your grandfather’s curse. See how my hands shake? I can barely stand, I, who could our run any of you. Will you have pity on my condition, you, who have so much youthful energy?”
His heart rending plea fell on deaf ears. None of his sons responded. Yayati looked pleading from face to face, but there was no sympathy in any of their eyes.
Crown Prince Yadu said, “we are sorry that you were cursed, father.” But he did not sound sorry.
“I am desperate,” Yayati said, “what is left in life? I cannot eat, I see a beautiful woman and I am not moved. I can barely walk. What life is this?”
“What was the curse?”
Yayati’s said, “he cursed me that old age will possess me long before my time. See how old and feeble I have become, I, who have never been ill, who have never been weak. How can I endure it?” He covered his face with his hands and sobbed.
His sons watched him cry in silence.
“We are sorry for you,” Yadu said at last.
“Then you will help me ?” Yayati raised his head eagerly, “my sons, my beloved sons, will you help your father ?”
They looked at him with distrust all over their faces. Finally Yadu said, “what can we do? What can anyone do when Guru Shukra has cursed you?”
Turvasu said, “why not plead with him, father? He may give you some relief.”
“He has given me relief. I threw myself at his feet and begged him. He promised me that if one of my sons will help me, I will be saved. Yadu, my son, my heir, have you the heart to pity your poor, old father?”
Yadu said, “what would you have me do?”
“I ask for a year, only a year. Can you give me that much, you, who are so young?”
“What does that mean? A year doing what, father?”
“I am too young to become old,” Yayati said, “I have not yet had my fill of life. I have so many desires, so much is left. Guru Shukra agreed to mitigate my curse. If one of my sons take my old age for a while I can be young again and I will return your youth when I am satisfied. I ask you, my sons, will one of you lend me your youth so I can satisfy my desires?”
He said it so naturally as if it was his right. He looked hopefully from face to face. No one spoke, they were in shock. “Will you do this for me, my sons?” Yayati pleaded, “give me a year, that is all I ask.”
Yadu’s face darkened with contempt, “how can you ask us this, father? Haven’t you had enough pleasure yet? We are young, you are old, that is the nature of things.”
Turvasu told him, “you have had your youth, why take ours? It is your time to take sanyas, father, not run after the sense pleasures at this age.”
Anu said, “and what will we do in the meantime? Why should we get old before our time?”
Yayati pleaded that he only wanted a year.
“No, father,” Yadu told him coldly, “it is too much to ask. We would give our lives in battle for you but how can you ask us to give up youth? Is it proper for you to deprive us of what you have already enjoyed?”
“I curse you,” Yayati shouted at them, “you are useless and I curse you all.”
“Better your curse than your old age,” Turvasu said.
“What kind of sons are you? Isn’t it your duty to obey your father?”
“Isn’t it a father’s duty to protect his sons, not steal their youth?” Yadu shot at him.
“You are no sons of mine,” Yayati said furiously, “you are hopeless, I disinherit you, all of you.” the effort of shouting tired him. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Puru gave him a cup of cool water and he drank it to the last drop.
“It’s a woman, isn’t it?” Yadu said, “you want our youth to prance with some young woman.”
“Who is she?” Turvasu asked him, “who is this woman for whom you want to take our years? Did you meet her in the western kingdom?”
Yadu said to his brothers, “wasn’t there a dancer or something?”
Turvasu said, “yes, I think you are right, a dancer.”
Yayati sat up again and said, “my sons you wound me. How can you accuse your father? How can you say such harsh things when I am begging you with tears in my eyes?”
“What was her name?” Yadu asked his brothers, “he was very careful with mother around, but I remember one or two times, late at night…”
Dhruyu said, “Yes, a young new dancer. She is very beautiful, tall, slender, and moves like a dream.”
“The one in red who always wore a peacock feather?” Anu asked him.
“Yes, the new one. The one who has the whole court at her feet.”
Yadu nodded, “father was always attracted to dancers – and beautiful maids.”
They chatted easily about dancers while Yayati fumed. He raised a trembling hand but his voice was so weak even Puru standing behind his chair could not hear it. Yayati pulled himself up with a huge effort, and shouted at his sons, “I ask you for this one small thing and you cant even do that? I will give you one last chance to obey me. Whoever obeys will be richly rewarded. If you refuse I will curse you.”
“Curse us if you wish,” Yadu said “At least we have our youth.”
“Yadu, my son and heir, do you wish to sit on the throne after me?”
“I do, but with my own mind and body, father. Accept your old age, everyone grows old.”
Yayati stared at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. Puru thought he had really believed his sons would gladly obey. The possibility that they might not instantly accept had just not crossed his mind. “Are you refusing my small request?”
“Father, I cannot. Ask me anything else.”
Yayati’s said, “I curse you. I curse you that your sons will never be kings. You will never sit on this throne.”
Yadu asked him, “Is the throne yours to barter away, father? Have the ministers and elders no say?”
“Are you challenging my authority?” Yayati’s eyes bulged, he looked ready to explode.
“I am asking you a question. I am your heir. I do not think the Council will let you put me away so lightly.”
Yayati said, “we will see about that.” He turned to his other son. “Turvasu, you are second but I can make you King in your brother’s place. Will you give me this boon?”
Turvasu looked at the floor and said nothing.
Yayati sighed, “Ask me whatever you desire, my son. I shall fulfil your every desire, everything. Just name it. Ask and it shall be yours. Speak, my son.”
Turvasu looked up, “How can I do it father? How can I lose the vigour of my limbs, how can I become weak and helpless? Please don’t ask me this.”
“You are no son of mine,” Yayati shouted, “I curse you that you will live among impure people, who eat meat, who do sinful things. You will live your whole life, away from all that is good and cultured.”
“But I will be healthy, father.”
Yayati glared at him, then turned to Puru’s brothers. “You two are also my sons. You can also do this for me. Shall I elevate you to the throne, you, who have no prospect of it? Dhruyu, my son, will you accept the crown?”
“What use will a throne be to me if I am too ill to enjoy it?” Dhruyu said.
Yayati fell back on the seat. It took him a moment to form the words and his voice was shrill, “I give you the chance of a lifetime and you refuse it?”
“Old age is terrible, father.”
Yayati clutched his chest and began to cough. Puru brought him water, and helped him drink it. Yayati’s hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped the cup. Puru steadied it for him.
Yayati said, “Dhruyu, I curse you that you will live in the wilderness, you will live in exile, you who have refused the throne. Anu, you are my last hope. My last son, I will give you everything. You shall be King of my empire. You will rule over all your brothers. Say yes, my son, and begin a new life.”
Anu said, “father, I have undertaken to do a hundred sacred fire ceremonies this year. How will I complete them if I am impure with old age?”
“I will give you a thousand priests to complete them, and gold in plenty. I will give you whatever you desire.”
“Of what benefit will that be to my soul?”
“Ask me anything, my son, ask me what you will and I will fulfil all your desires. Ask me anything.”
“I do not wish the Kuru crown. What use will it be to me? I know it is not my right as the youngest. I will only make enemies of my brothers, and that I do not want. I have a good life in my grandfathers court, and I am happy with it. I wish to do my ceremonies in peace.”
“I will curse you. I curse you that your children will die before they come of age. Will you reconsider?”
“No, father.” Anu said.
Yayati covered his face with his hands for a moment. But when he looked up his eyes were full of anger, “what is the matter with all of you? Are you too stupid to understand? I am offering you the throne of the greatest empire on earth and you say no?”
“You will not find anyone ready to do this father,” Yadu told him, “do you know how horrifying old age is to the young? We want to forget it exists, we would prolong our youth forever if we could. Ask us anything else and we will sacrifice it for you, but this, this is much too much.”
“Don’t you understand?” Yayati said, “I am only borrowing it. I will return it when I am done.”
Turvasu said, “ Can one ever return to youth or childhood ? You are asking us to grow old before our time and not even you can return the carefree years of youth.”
Yadu said, “yes, how will we ever enjoy youth once we have tasted the bitterness of age?”
“I will give you the throne.” Yayati said, “I will make you king. What more can I offer you?”
“I am the Crown Prince and heir to the throne anyway. You take my youth and offer me what is my right?” Yadu said to him, “father, are you a father? Could a father ever make such an offer as this?”
“You are not worthy to be sons of mine,” Yayati raged, “I disown you, all of you.”His voice cracked and wavered. He sagged back exhausted. Tears ran down his cheeks and fell on his silks. Puru found it hard to see any trace of his father in this weeping old man.
Yadu made a sound of disgust, stood up and made for the door. Turvasu also rose.
Puru helped Yayati drink water, holding the glass for him. Yayati drank, wrapping his shaking hands around Puru’s. When he had finished drinking he kept his hold on Puru’s hand. He turned his head to look at him.
“Puru, you are also my son.”
Yadu was almost at the door but he turned back at that. Turvasu looked at his brother and they all smiled. At the door Yadu laughed, “are you depending on servants now, father?”
Yayati ignored them all, holding tightly onto Puru’s hand, saying earnestly, “you are my son, Puru, will you pity your old father?”
Yadu came back to sit beside his brothers, grinning, “will you offer him the throne, father?”
Yayati continued to hold Puru’s hand, “tell me whatever you desire, son, and I will provide it. Do you want gold, land, riches, women ? All you have to do is ask. Tell me, what can I do for you?”
Puru hesitated.
“Speak your heart’s desire,” Yayati urged him, “don’t be afraid, say what is in your heart.”
“I do have a desire, Maharaj,” Puru said, “if you fulfil it I will gladly take your old age.”
“My son, my son,” Yayati impulsively embraced him, tilting the glass, spilling the water. Puru stepped back when it was over, not sure wether he was relieved or happy. His father had embraced him. There was a time when he would have given his life for that, but now he took a step back.
Yadu and the brothers laughed and joked, watching them both.
“I will give you a palace, I will give you a thousand horses, a thousand elephants and ten thousand gemstones the size of my fist. I will send you the most beautiful women and I will build you a palace better than any before it. What else do you want?” Yayati said, focussing only on Puru.
“I want only one thing, Maharaj. I have no use for palaces or gems. Free my mother. That is all I ask.”
For a moment it did not sink in. Then Yayati fell back on the throne speechless.
The Princes watched them frowning. “What do you mean ?” Yadu said, “we don’t keep slaves. All your mother has to do is leave.”
Yayati said, “I have no power over your mother, son, you know that.”
Puru turned away to replace the wine jug.
Yadu said, “what is this, what are you talking about? Puru, tell me at once.”
“My lord,” Puru said, “my mother cannot leave.” He saw that Yadu knew nothing and he told him the story. Yadu and Turvasu listened. Puru’s brother’s shifted restlessly, trying to interrupt. Puru refused to be interrupted and told it all.
When it was finished Crown Prince Yadu said to Puru’s brothers, “all this time you said nothing to me. This boy was your brother, had royal blood and you said nothing. I trusted you.”
Dhruyu flinched, “what could we do?”
“You should have told me. What a fool I was to trust you.” Yadu said. Puru saw from his face that it had really upset him. At that moment he looked more like Yayati than Yayati did. He had his father’s grimness. When Yayati got that look his mind was set and nothing in the world would move him.
Yayati had ignored the conversation between his sons. He sat up weakly, saying to Puru, “you know my situation. Ask me anything else and it is yours. Do not ask the impossible. I cannot give you the throne, or even acknowledge you. But I can make you wealthy enough to go seek your fortune in any other court.”
“I have only one desire, Maharaj.” Puru said.
“I will relieve you of all your duties. You shall live like a Prince.”
“And my mother?”
Yayati said, “you will go back and learn under Chief Minister Sumantu, as you wanted.”
Puru hesitated, “am I to relax while my mother slaves?”
Yayati looked troubled. “You know I have no control over your mother. Ask me anything in my power and it is yours.”
“What use is anything else to me while my mother remains a servant?” Puru said.
Yayati pleaded, “my son, have pity on your father. Do this for me and I will do what you ask when I return.”
Puru said carefully, “will you free my mother when you return, Maharaj?”
Yayati looked quickly away, then back, “I will give you this, boy, I will give you the power. If you have the courage, you may win your freedom, you may be able to do what I cannot. I promise you that I will do this for you.”
Yadu laughed at that and said, “when did you last keep a promise, father ?”
Puru wavered torn between the sincerity on his father’s face and the scepticism on the faces of the Princes.
“My son,” Yayati said.
Puru saw the tears in his father’s eyes.
Yayati looked anxiously at Puru, “is a desperate father’s promise good enough for you, my son ?”
Sharmishta paced the small room furiously, hitting the wall as she passed. “What possessed you, Puru? Have you no sense at all? How could you even think of agreeing?”
Puru sat on the step saying nothing.
“You are a fool, my son. You should have listened to your brothers. Kings promises are easily made and just as easily forgotten. You should have refused as your brothers did.”
“Mother, what could I do. He was weeping and begging me. He embraced me. How could I refuse?”
Shamishta stopped pacing and came and sat down beside him. She said sadly, “you have too good a heart, my son. Now you have ended up with nothing, and given up even your youth. You do not know Guru Shukra’s curses. You should have left the king to his own suffering.”
“I thought that you would be pleased.”
“Pleased that he has robbed you of your youth? How can any mother be pleased with that?”
“He has given me what I asked. I no longer have to work in the kitchen. I can sit with Chief Minister Sumantu and learn. One day we will leave here and make a new life in some other kingdom. Surely we can wait a little longer?”
“For how long ?” Sharmishta asked harshly.
“Only for a year, mother, can we manage for a year?”
“Do we have a choice?” Sharmishta said, wiping her eyes, “is it not our lot to endure? Oh, Puru you are the brightest of all my sons. I saw a bright future for you and a crown on your head. Out of them all I thought your star would shine the brightest.”
“Mother, we will survive, and we will wait till the year is over. Then he will free you and we can leave here,”
“He will never free me.”
“Then we will leave here anyway.”
Sharmishta shook her head but said no more. She sat on their small back step and watched the moon rise above the trees. Puru washed and returned and she was still sitting there in the moonlight.
“Are they coming tonight?” she asked him.
Puru hesitated.
Sharmishta sighed, “they are not coming, are they ?”
“No, mother, they asked me to bring you to their rooms by the servants door. They said they have gifts for you.”
“I have only one son.” mother said firmly and went into the room and lay down on her worn mattress. Puru sat a long time, looking out over the trees in the silence of the night.
What have I done?
At first he was happy. Chief Minister Sumantu welcomed him back very warmly, and spent a long time talking to him. “You need an education,” he told Puru. “You have finished your basic studies but there is so much to learn. I suggest you read the scrolls in the library.”
The library was one entire wing of the palace. The walls were covered with shelves, each holding thousands of scrolls, and long, string bound books. Generations of rulers had kept it stocked, and only those who were royal could enter it. Puru had never been allowed inside, and the very thought awed him.
Sumantu took Puru personally down to the library and told the brahmin in charge to let the boy read whatever he desired. “You may sit on the benches and read everything,” he told Puru, “but you will not take anything out of this room. I suggest you begin by reading the histories of our kingdom, and the stories of our ancestors.”
Puru slipped into an easy routine. All day he sat on the bench by the window, carefully unfolding one scroll after another. Once the librarian saw that he was careful, he left him alone. Puru only left for meals, and when it was too dark to read. After the first few days the librarian allowed him to light the lanterns and read into the night. Puru returned home late, his head full of ancient lore.
Once he met his father in the corridor. Yayati looked healthy and energetic again. He stopped Puru, gave him a special smile and asked him how he was. Puru went home walking on air that day.
Another time he passed his brothers. Rumour said the Crown Prince was no longer speaking to them. They were walking down the garden together, looking wan. They pretended not to see Puru, and Puru let them pass without a word. After that he passed them several times but they never acknowledged him even though he was no longer in a servant’s uniform.
But strange changes began. One morning his legs felt weak, one day there were aches in his knees. Walking became difficult. He no longer strode with the casual grace of youth. His knees made him shuffle like an older man.
Sharmishta watched him age before her eyes. His hair was greying. He had lost the energy of youth and shuffled as he walked stooping a little, stopping sometimes, as if exhausted, to catch his breath.
Every day she saw the changes, and she never mentioned it to him. She watched him age and she only allowed herself to cry when he was not around. Already, when he walked with her, others thought he was her husband. Soon he would look like her father. Would he be able to take a year of Guru Shukra’s curse?
Puru spent all day in the library, eating in the palace staff dining hall, and returning to his room only late in the night.
One evening, in the last rays of daylight Sharmishta came back with a bucket of washing and found him sitting hunched outside the room. She dropped the clothes in panic and caught his shoulder, “what’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“I’m all right.” he said. He did not sound as if he was dying.
“Then why are you sitting here? Why aren’t you in the library?”
“Its no use. I cant read the scrolls.”
“What happened? Did the king refuse to let you in?”
He did not answer for a long moment and then he said sadly, “No, mother, its nothing to do with him. Its me. I cant see the words any more.”
He raised his head. Incongruous in his young face, he looked at her with the watery, white glazed, almost blind eyes of an old, old man.
Continued in Part 3.
