To Be Young Again, Part 3.
Rohini Gupta
13 June 2008, 15:30Continued from Part 2
At the edge of night, Puru watched the last sunset of his life flare in peach and purple, gold and finally blood red. He lay in the grass under the peepal tree, watching the drama of the sky. His fading eyes saw only blurs. He knew death was near. He might never see another dawn. Don’t end, he wanted to tell the sky, keep this crystal moment forever. But the colours faded, the last streak of red paled and merged into the shadows.
One last koel called as the darkness overcame the light.
Puru closed his eyes on the night. He had been lying here all evening, forgotten in the grass. Hours ago he had asked his attendant Gaurang to carry him out into the garden for a change. Gaurang had reluctantly taken him outside and propped him against the tree. Then he left. Puru called to him to come back in a hour but he had not returned.
The first stars of the night came out overhead. The crickets sounded muted in the thick mango and peepal trees around the ashram. Puru listened to the sounds of the night in silence. The one sound he waited for did not come. He had waited for his father for three long years, and now he was going to die and the hours were draining away just too fast to hold.
Where are you, father? Did you just forget me?
He knew he should feel peace so close to the end, but all he felt was frustration. If he lived he might have seen his twenty second autumn, but here he was dying of old age. His hair was gone and many of his teeth. His eyes saw only hints and shadows. His joints ached and his mind wandered. His hands shook when he held the hot clay bowls of food. His legs no longer supported his weight and he has to wait until his attendant, Gaurang, came to help. Sometimes Gaurang didn’t come. Once he had not come for two days.
Puru knew that he might not return tonight.
If he does not come I will die here, under the trees, forgotten by everyone. I did not want to end like this, but it is a fitting end to a wasted life. How did it ever come to this?
He heard voices coming towards him and opened his eyes. The blurred shadows of several people walked towards him. When they came close he saw that it was not Gaurang, it was his brothers, all four of them. They came and stood around him. He saw the shock in their eyes. They looked so young, healthy and energetic. Puru closed his eyes to hide the tears. He was the youngest of them all lying helpless, trembling in the grass.
They stood and looked at him frowning.
“You look terrible,” Turvasu told him, “you look as old as grandfather.”
“I am dying,” Puru said in his wavering, old voice.
Crown Prince Yadu said, “they told us you would not last the night. They asked us to come and do your last rites.”
“What a fool you are, “ his eldest brother Druhyu told him, “dying before you have even tasted life. But you have only yourself to blame.”
Puru saw the condemnation on their faces and it brought tears to his eyes. He envied their youth, their energy, the ease with which they walked and stood. He envied their vigorous strong voices, and the youth shining on their faces. He had forgotten what it was like, and now he would never know what it felt like to be young again.
Yadu sat on the ground beside him folding his legs so easily to sit on the grass, “tell me why,” he said, “I never understood why. Father made so stupid a request. Why did you agree when we all refused?”
“I will tell you why he did it,” Dhruyu said. He was always the sharpest of them all. “Puru is the youngest. He does not have your good looks, eldest, and has none of the talents we all have. Father always overlooked him. He thought by doing this father would love him, but tell me, Puru, since you did this has father even come to visit you once?”
“You hoped he would keep his word, didn’t you? You hoped he would return in a year and give you freedom. How many years has it been since you suffered like this?’
Into the silence that followed the question, Puru said, “three years.” His voice cracked. Three years? They felt like a thousand.
Yadu said, “you did not understand father, did you? He took your youth and do you know what he did with it? He has spent the last few years prancing with some apsara, Vishvachi.”
Puru wept, “You have the kingdom, you sit on the throne, isn’t that enough for you? Why do you hate me?”
Yadu told him furiously, “we have nothing, thanks to you. Father has given us nothing. When he is not in the kingdom it is governed by his ministers. He gives us only food and a roof. He does not speak to us and those who wish his favour ignore us. He has still not forgiven us for refusing when you agreed.”
“You made us look very bad,” Anu told him, “but I suppose it is too late for grudges, so I forgive you. You have paid a very heavy price for what you did.”
“Do you regret it?” Yadu asked him.
Puru thought of Yadu sitting easily on the throne in the kingdom he had not seen in years and he would never see again. Did he regret it?
“No,” he said at last, “ It is too late for regrets. Take me to my bed and let me die in peace.”
“You are even more foolish than I thought,” Yadu told him scathing, “do you think father cares while his youngest son dies of his old age? Remember that you brought this on yourself. In the morning we will do your last rites before we return to our kingdom.”
“Isn’t it enough that I am dying?” Puru asked them.
Yadu looked at him and his handsome face creased in a smile, “yes,” he said, “I suppose it is revenge enough to see you like this. You expected father to come, didn’t you? You thought after giving him such a big gift he would care for you. You thought he would leave his apsaras long enough to visit you before you died, didn’t you?”
Puru closed his eyes. What could he answer to that? In the long years of his exile he had waited and waited, hoping, praying, waiting, growing old and feeble before his time, watching day merge into day, counting the hours and the endless minutes, and in all these years his father had not come. They were right. Father would not come.
Turvasu laughed too, “eldest, you are absolutely right. It is worth it at the end to say, I told you so.”
Yadu rose to his feet, and stood looking down at him.
“Take me to my bed,” Puru pleaded with them. “I am so cold.”
They walked away, laughing, and Puru watched them walk, envious of their youthful stride. “Send me my attendant, take me to my bed.” he called in his shaky voice. If they heard they did not turn. Their laughter lingered in Puru’s ears long after they had gone.
The chilly night wind froze his old bones. He wanted only to lie under warm blankets in his own bed. He strained his ears, listening to the smallest noise, listening for the footsteps.
In the distance he heard the evening sounds of the ashram. The tinkling of cowbells and the soft hoof falls on the earth as the cows returned, seeking their stables for the night. The temple conch resounded, loud and clear. The bells of the evening aarti rang, and the young, strong voices sang the last chants of the day. The aarti finished, the last bells died. The kitchen sounds began, the clanking of vessals, the steady buzz of conversation. No one heard his weak voice calling. No one could see him here in the shadow of the trees at the edge of the forest.
Silence settled over the ashram. The only sounds were the chilly wind rustling the leaves, the drone of crickets and the haunting call of a distant night bird. Even the bird fell silent. He lost all feeling in his body. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Gaurang did not come. His brothers had not bothered to send for him.
They hate me, Puru thought, how did it ever come to this? But he knew how, and they were right, he had believed his father, he had thought, father will not let me suffer like this. I was so stupid, Puru thought, tears pouring out of his eyes.
He cried out weakly but no one heard. The wind froze his tears. He gave up calling. No one was coming. He would lie here freezing until he died. The darkness descended, like a shroud.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Father had made it sound so easy, let me borrow your youth for a year and I will return it and give you what you want. Yadu had laughed and said, when did a king keep promises.
But Puru had thought this one too big to forget and he had been wrong. It took three painful years to learn how wrong. In the first few months he had turned old and feeble. When he could no longer take the pain in his mother’s eyes every time she looked at him, he had asked his father to send him away. Yayati had arranged this ashram in the outskirts for him, giving him a rough room with a mattress on the floor, and a servant Gaurang to look after his needs.
Puru waited so eagerly for the last day when his misery would come to an end. He counted every day, every hour, kept track of every passing muhurt. The year ended just as it had begun. His father did not come, and sent no message. Puru calculated and re-calculated. He asked the head monk who said kindly, “kings have short memories for debts, my son”, but he kindly offered to send a young brahmin to court with a message.
Puru waited by the window for days. The youngster came back after almost a fortnight, with no answer. Yayati had left the court months ago and no one knew when he would return. Six months passed and Puru sent another messenger but Yayati had still not returned. The messenger came back saying the court believed Yayati had gone to live with the apsaras, and his latest flame, Vishvachi.
Since then he had heard nothing. Yayati was not back. Three years had passed and only his will had kept him alive till now. But now his will was broken. He had lost hope. Its no use, its no use hanging on like this.
His body was numb with the cold and the wind. He no longer felt the pain. He lay, half asleep, waiting for death. The wind had frozen his tears and he had none left to cry.
Father, you broke your promise, you never came. Is this all for nothing?
A shadow fell on his face. He opened his eyes and saw a tall figure standing over him. Relief swept him like a wave. At last Gaurang had come. “Please,” he wept, “please take me to a warm bed.”
It was too dark to see Gaurang’s face but when the figure spoke, it was not Gaurang’s voice.
“Is there no one even to take you to shelter?”
“Father?” Puru’s voice shook, “you have come?”
Yayati sat down beside him, “yes, my son, I am here. I will not let you die.”
“Its too late for that, father, why didn’t you come all these years? I waited and waited.”
Yayati hesitated,“I was busy,” he said at last.
Puru heard the hesitation in his voice. He looked at his father and even in the darkness could see the bloom of health, the energy of youth. He was all gold and silk, the image of a king. His crown sparkled as he moved, and the handle of his royal sword gleamed pale gold. Yayati had never looked so good.
“Was Vishvachi more important than your son?” Puru asked. It shocked him that he was able to say that. All his life he had been so quiet and accepting but here, at the end, he discovered an anger he did not know he had.
“How do you know her name?” Yayati asked him.
“Shouldn’t I even know the name of the woman I am dying so you could enjoy? Why did you come? Did you also want to joke over my fate?”
“Puru, how can you speak to me like that? I am your father.”
“Not any longer,” Puru said, “where were you when I was your dutiful son? Where were you all these years when I suffered? You are not my father. I am dying because of you, I have no father, I have no brothers. I hope you enjoyed your apsara, father, because I have no youth left to give you now.”
He closed his eyes and lay exhausted. His mind drifted. When it came back he heard his father speaking. It took an effort to understand the words.
Yayati said, “I know now that enjoying desire only inflames it more. The more I enjoy the more I desire to enjoy. I do not wish to be caught in the trap of enjoyment any more. I will take sanyas and go to the forest and meditate for the rest of my life. And I will give you back your youth.”
“I waited three years, father, and now it is too late. I have only one question. Did you free my mother?”
“I will give you the best advise, my son. Listen carefully. Never favour anger. Those without anger are always superior to those without it. Those who forgive and those who never speak harsh words do not make enemies.”
For a moment his voice was lost as Puru’s consciousness wavered. He struggled to focus on his father’s voice. “Did you free my mother?”
“I will give you the kingdom. You will be king.”
“Is she still a servant?”
Yayati looked embarrassed, “you know the conditions she came under. She herself agreed to be Devyani’s servant. It is not in my power to free her.”
“Father that was thirty years ago. Must she remain a slave for life?”
“It is not my choice and what can I do? Devyani’s father would curse me again.”
“You are the King.”
Yayati sighed, “you will understand when you become the king. I have no power over your mother. Take the kingdom instead.”
“Is that all you offer me? A royal funeral?”
Puru closed his eyes, knowing he had been a fool to hope. Nothing had changed, nothing would ever change. Yayati could not, would not dare go against Devyani’s father, would never dare a second curse. So now he was offering a kingdom instead, some forgotten village that Devyani’s sons did not want. What was the point ? It was too late even to argue.
“You promised you would give me what I asked.”
“I give you much more than you asked. I am making you king.”
“What use is that to a dying man?”
“I told you I would give you the opportunity to do what I was unable to do. I will keep my word and give you the throne.”
“Keep it,” Puru said, “give it to your other son’s who will kill for it. I am dying anyway, but at least let me die knowing that my mother will go home to her father.”
Yayati remained silent.
Puru looked up at him. In the darkness he could not see his face clearly and his vision was flickering, coming and going. The world was disappearing. He tried to speak and words did not come. He almost panicked then, I have words to say and I must say them before I go. He opened his mouth again and this time he found his voice.
“Father, I would have settled for one word of concern, but now I see how stupid I was. You never change, father. You could say you are sorry, or you could say I love you, my son, but all you can say is I will make you king. I was foolish to trust you, and I am paying for it now. I am dying like a fool, for nothing.”
He saw the shocked expression on his fathers face and It gave him some satisfaction before his eyes closed. He heard his father’s voice but distantly, as if too far away. The words made no sense, he could no longer understand them. He let go and then he was sinking, falling, swirling as the world disappeared in a great tidal wave of despair and blackness.
Concluded in Part 4.
