To Be Young Again, part 4.
Rohini Gupta
28 June 2008, 17:54Continued From Part Three
Puru awoke in a place of peace, warm, comfortable and without pain for the first time in years. He lingered, unwilling to open his eyes, listening to the familiar sounds of the early morning. A koel called melodiously in the calming silence as the night ended.
Even through his closed lids he could feel the world becoming lighter as the sun rose.
He listened as other birds joined the sunrise chorus. The light brightened, but Puru refused to open his eyes, just too comfortable to move, in ease and warmth at last. Then he became aware of the noises.
People were talking, lots of people. Horses neighed and he heard hooves go past. He thought he heard a trumpeting elephant. Someone shouted something and someone else answered. It sounded as if a hundred people were all talking at once. These were certainly not the usual ashram sounds. Was there so much noise after death? Reluctantly he opened his eyes.
He was lying on his narrow bedroll in the bare little room with which he was so familiar. But the bed was softer than he remembered and someone had put a warm, fine wool blanket over him, quite different from the rough scratchiness of the thread worn blanket the ashram had provided. The room was bright with the first rays of the sun slanting through the small window, striping the floor at an angle which told him it was early morning.
Is this heaven? Puru wondered, remembering that he had died. He sat up and found the movement surprisingly easy and without pain. He looked at himself in amazement. There were muscles on his arms and he could feel the strength in his legs.
He looked out of the window at the familiar scene of river and green trees. After a moment he realised what was different. For years all he had seen was a blurred haze. Now he clearly saw the individual leaves, the pattern of foam in the water and the bright green feathers of a parrot that flew shrieking from one branch to another.
The sages always said that after death you got back your youthful energy. Did you also get back your vision?
A movement made him turn his head and Gaurang was coming towards him saying, “My lord, let me help you.”
Puru remembered calling weakly for him when he was dying, “Don’t touch me,” he snapped at him.
Gaurang flinched at the anger in his voice and took a step back. He said hastily, “I will bring food, my lord.” and went out of the door.
The mention of food made Puru realise how hungry he was. Did you get hungry after death? What was Gaurang doing here? He rose to his feet and forgot his questions, marvelling at the ease with which he could move. The back door of his room led straight to the river. Outside the sun was just touching the peaks turning them gold. He walked across the grass, feeling the blades beneath his toes, feeling the muscles in his legs, surprised by how easy it was to walk. I think I could run, he thought, and yesterday I could not even sit up by myself. Death is very good. He laughed, climbing down the steps to the water.
He washed in the river and drank, savouring the cool freshness. Beside the river it was quieter, the sounds muted. No one else came to disturb his solitude. When he returned to his room Gaurang has left a covered thali of food. Puru uncovered it, expecting the sparse ashram breakfast of rice cakes. Besides the rice cakes there was a hot dish, and a bowl of figs and bananas and a long glass of the sweet payasam drink which Puru loved. He smell of food made his mouth water. How long since he had actually tasted anything? Did everything improve after death ? He ate ravenously, wondering at himself.
He was eating when the old monk who was the head of the ashram came and sat down in front of him. Puru greeted him and then went on eating.
“Did you also pass over?” Puru asked him, between mouthfuls.
“Neither of us have passed over. You are not dead.”
“I remember dying last night.”
The monk smiled a sweet smile, “My lord, you are still in the world of the living.”
“But we must be dead. This looks like the ashram but it does not sound like the ashram. Its never been so noisy.”
“That is your father’s court. They are waiting outside.”
Puru paused from eating to object, “I can’t be alive. I feel too good. I feel strong again and I have no aches and pains. I can see everything clearly.”
“You have your youth back, Maharaj. Your father took back his old age.”
Puru stared at him, his hand frozen mid mouthful, “Is that possible?”
“Yes. You died. Your father called Guru Shukra, brought you back to life and restored your youth.”
“And father?”
“He took back his age and ordered his servants to carry him into the hills. I do not think we will see him again.”
Puru thought that over, and finally he laughed, “So I am alive, and I am young again. I get to live life twice. And you know what? What is there to live for? All the desires my father craved so much they don’t move me at all. What do I do with a second youth?”
“Be the greatest of kings, my lord.”
Puru laughed again, finishing the glass of payasam, “My brothers are there for that. I think I will leave and wander around the earth, walk in the mountains and sit by clear lakes. It is not often you get a second chance. Were my brothers very disappointed?”
When the silence dragged he looked up at the monk’s shocked face and smiled. There was a time when he could not have spoken like that, but he no longer cared what others thought.
“They must have cursed me for not even dying properly, right?”
“No, they wait your pleasure, my lord.”
Puru looked at him frowning, “My pleasure? I see no smile on your face, aryaputra.”
And then the monk smiled, “Now you do, my lord. Your father named you King. He swore before all his ministers that you alone would sit on the throne, and rule his empire. Your brothers will wait as long as you desire.”
“You are not making sense,” Puru complained, more intent on finishing the food. He helped himself to a lavish second helping of rice and vegetables from the large vessel, wondering at his appetite. When the monk did not answer he looked up. “What is it?”
“My lord, please believe me, I say nothing that is not true. You are now the King.”
“Am I dreaming all this?”
“Maharaj,” the monk looked distressed, “please believe me, this is no dream. It is your throne now. Your brothers, your court, your ministers, they are all sitting outside waiting for you.”
Puru looked closely at him and he seemed serious. But right now the food was more important. He went back to eating, and when he finished piled the plates together. Footsteps made him turn his head.
Gaurang stood at the door hesitating. He saw that Puru had finished and came in carrying a gem encrusted pitcher of water. He put a silver bowl of flower petals in front of Puru and poised his pitcher. Puru washed his hands in the hot, scented water amid the velvet petals as Gaurang poured. In another lifetime Puru had performed this service for Yadu, but had never dreamed that someone would do the same for him.
That convinced him more than anything else. In King’s courts there were always these polite touches, but Gaurang has never bothered with any of them and this ashram certainly did not posses this kind of pitcher. Gaurang offered him a soft cloth to wipe his hands, and cleared the bowls.
Puru smiled as he returned the cloth, “Gautang, do you know that I am now the King?”
“Maharaj, I have heard so.” Gaurang said respectfully. He looked at the floor, waiting patiently for orders.
“Then you may get yourself out of my sight,” Puru told him, “take your belongings and get out of my kingdom. Go before I lose my temper.” Gaurang quietly took the plates and left.
Puru looked back at the monk, “You look surprised?”
The monk said, “I have never heard that tone from you.”
Puru stretched, feeling every muscle, enjoying every sensation,”I have learned from old age, I learned one thing very clearly. Old or young, it does not matter, it matters that every moment is precious. I don’t think I knew how precious until I was dying.”
“Your father left you a message.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Puru said, “it will be the same thing, have no desire. What else can it be? He never understood how beautiful life is. He was too busy running after one woman or another.”
The monk looked away uncertain how to respond to such frank criticism.
A knock on the door and Chief Minister Sumantu stood there smiling, “I am so glad to see you are well.”
Puru smiled back, happy to see him again. “Has my father really gone?”
“Yes, and he left you the throne.”
Puru said, “I know father better than that. He has never given me anything, not even toys when I was a child. Is he likely to leave me anything now?”
Sumantu sighed, “Its not that simple.”
“It never is,” Puru said, “I learned that a long time ago. What has he done this time?”
“Lets just say that if you leave now, quickly, by the back door, it will save your life.”
The head monk stared at him, “Chief Minister, what are you saying? He is now our King.”
“Not for long,” Sumantu said, “The Queen is on her way and she will call her father. Puru, I have a horse waiting. Leave quickly.”
“Not until I understand.” Puru said, “tell me what has happened. Did he truly declare me the King?”
Sumantu said, “He did that all right. He stood over your dead body and declared you his sole heir and ruler to the throne.”
Puru laughed, “Did he really?”
“Then your father called Guru Shukra and he brought you back to life.”
Puru was startled, “Guru Shukra?”
“In the way of rishis, he came instantly. He revived you and he reversed the curse. You got back your youth, Yayati took back his age.”
“At least he did that much. But what is this about the kingdom? Didn’t others object? Didn’t Guru Shukra object?”
Sumantu hesitated, then said, “I don’t know the details, but he made some kind of deal with Guru Shukra. He asked for your mother’s freedom but Guru Shukra would not go back on his promise to his daughter. Then your father made a bet with him. You know what a gambler your father is. ”
Puru’s heart sank at the sound of that. He knew his father and any bet his father made would not be good news for him. Was he going to get a new lease of life only to lose it all? “What was the bet?” he asked resignedly.
“Who knows? Do you really want to find out? Puru, you cant win. Either you will annoy Guru Shukra and he will strike you down or you will end up bound for life. Go while you still can and make a life somewhere else.”
Puru thought that over, but he did not rise. Sumantu urged him to leave once again but Puru was paying no attention.
Yadu peered in at the door, frowning at the tiny room and the rude floor mattress on which Puru sat. “So you survived.” he said, not sounding happy about it.
“Not yet,” Puru said.
“You have survived,” Sumantu said, “against all odds. You are alive, aren’t you?”
“This time yes, but will I survive when I must do the inevitable?”
Sumantu sighed, “Don’t be a fool, son, this is not a game you can win. Leave now and don’t come back.”
Yadu came inside and stood against the wall, saying, “Yes, leave quickly, my mother is on her way.”
Puru stared at him, “You are asking me to leave? I thought you wanted me dead.”
“I think dying once is enough for any man. Go.”
“You know I will not leave alone.” Puru said.
“The Queen, my mother, is waiting outside for you. But I can tell her you were gone already.” Yadu said.
“Yes, leave by the back door,” Sumantu told him, “Puru, my son, don’t be a fool. You will not survive if you defy Guru Shukra.”
“Then I will die happy,” Puru said. The grimness on both their faces made him laugh. Nothing could bother him today. Everything made him smile.
Yadu began to speak and stopped. “Puru, listen to me. I don’t like you but I like what father did even less. But you know that you cannot defy Guru Shukra so don’t be stupid. Accept your mother’s fate.”
Puru smiled and went past him, down the passage that led to the main door. He stood there looking out over the ashram grounds. A wave of noise almost deafened him and the bright flare of colours made his squint.
Wherever he looked there were people, hundreds of them. Yayati seemed to have brought his whole court with him. Brightly dressed courtiers, men and women, lounged on expensive carpets spread on the grass. Servants in Yayati’s colours rushed around serving them. The high level of noise came from them as they lounged, talking loudly, eating, drinking and laughing with one another.
Beside each group of courtiers lay trays with garlands, the orange marigold flowers making a brilliant splash of colour under the sun. They had come to greet their new king, and they had come prepared. How confused they must be wondering who was on the throne and whom they should greet. Its unlikely to me be, Puru thought and that was amusing too.
Behind them Puru saw Yayati’s royal elephant being led down to the river as the day’s chores began. Yayati’s gold chariot with the white umbrella was parked under a tree and the eight white horses that drove it were grazing peacefully in the lush wildflower grass that bordered the river.
In one corner, away from the rest, he saw his brothers, sitting together, talking with their heads close to each other. They were arguing. He saw the unhappiness, the weariness of a night without sleep in their eyes. How they must hate waiting, especially if it was for him.
That was when the reality dawned on Puru. They were all waiting, all these colourful men and women, sleeping on grass instead of cushioned beds, eating breakfast under trees, holding on to their wilting garlands, waiting for that one chance to greet the next king.
They are all waiting for me. I am really king, Puru thought, I am the King. Puru laughed, much good that will do me! But it was amusing while it lasted.
Dhruyu raised his head and saw him standing there, and began to rise. Puru deliberately looked away, not wanting to spoil this bright and beautiful morning with the unhappiness he saw on their faces. When he looked back the brothers were making no move to walk over, they hesitated, standing together, looking uncertain. Puru smiled. All his life his brothers had ordered him about and now they were hesitating to even catch his eyes.
His father’s minister came to him with a low bow, “Maharaja, you are well?”
“I am fine,” Puru said.”what are all these people doing here?”
“They come to greet their King. And the Queen awaits you.” Puru looked at him quickly when he said that. He had not said, come to greet you, he was not sure who it was, Puru or someone else. I don’t blame him, Puru thought, what if he bowed to me as king and then discovered it was Yadu instead? Then he stopped smiling and looked across the grass to where the red overhang had been skilfully arranged, at a respectful distance from the chaos of the courtiers.
Puru recognised the care with which the arrangement had been set up. He had done this for Yadu several times, first erecting the red silk covering to shade from the heat, then laying under it soft carpet and on that cushioned seats, and low tables for the refreshments. Servants stood in a half circle but at a discreet distance. Puru recognised most of the servants. Today I do not have to stand in that line, he thought and that was amusing too.
On the seats under the canopy a man and a woman talked, oblivious to the noise. The woman he recognised at once, the Queen, in sky blue today, blue lotuses in her dark hair. The man was older, bearded, wearing the saffron of a sage, a long tall stick in his hand, and his white hair tied above his head in a knot as sages wore. He was smiling at her and he looked kind and grand fatherly.
Yadu came up beside Puru and said, “That is my grandfather, Guru Shukra.”
Chief Minister Sumantu came up on the other side of Puru and said, “Just go fall at his feet and ask for his mercy. He is known to be merciful to those who deserve it.”
Yadu said, “Yes, do that.”
Puru smiled at them both. How could he explain? Today he felt invincible. Today he would win, whatever he did.
“Maharaj,” the minister said and held out the royal ring, and royal bow with its carving of golden deer, and gold and ruby crown. Puru looked at his father’s insignia and gestured them away. That could wait.
Yadu reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “I wish you luck,” he said.
Puru walked across the grass. As he walked past the courtiers saw him come and the noise died out. They rose and stepped up beside the path, pushing each other in their hurry to bow to him.
Puru approached the red canopy with his hands folded respectfully in a namaskar. The Queen and her father were laughing at some joke and he did not interrupt. He stepped under the overhanging cloth and waited patiently.
Guru Shukra turned his head and looked at him. The kind, grandfatherly eyes pinned him down and tore into his soul. Puru found himself turned to wood, unable to move, unable to breath. He gasped as his lungs froze, and for a long, endless moment he struggled to breathe and no breath came. Just when he thought he would collapse from the strain, Guru Shukra looked away and Puru staggered, gasping air like a drowning man, struggling to remain upright.
Queen Devyani smiled as he gasped, and said, “I hear my foolish husband left you the throne. What do you have to say to that, servant boy?”
Puru struggled to speak, to make words with his raw and painful throat. His voice came out like a croak. He knew what he wanted to say but it took all his concentration to say it, “My desire is not for a throne, Maharani.”
She laughed, “it is in my hands to refuse you, whatever your desires, do you understand that?”
And then, to Puru’s surprise Yadu stepped up beside him, “Mother, please, this farce has gone on long enough. Release his mother and let them both go home. How long is this absurdity to continue?”
“Yadu, what is wrong with you? I am doing this to protect your right to the throne.”
“Not by slavery, mother. Please, just send them home and finish it.”
Devyani said, “By all means lets finish it.” She turned to Guru Shukra, “Father, make my son king, return this boy to his kitchen work and let us all go back to the palace. It is far too hot to sit here much longer.”
Puru braced himself as Guru Shukra turned to look at him again, but this time the eyes were mild. “Speak,” Guru Shukra said, “what do you wish, boy? Do you deserve the throne?”
“I wish to ask you a question, gurudev,” Puru said, “only one question.”
Guru Shukra said, “The answer is no if you ask me to make you king.”
“Not that, Gurudev.”
“The answer is also no if you ask that I release your mother.”
“Not that question either, Gurudev.”
“Then you may ask me, but the answer will still be no.”
“This question cannot be answered with a no, Gurudev,” Puru said respectfully.
Guru Shukra frowned, “Don’t be arrogant with me, child. Do you expect me to say yes?”
“Neither a yes nor a no, Gurudev.”
Guru Shukra gave him a long, hard stare, and then he said, “You intrigue me. Very well, ask your question.”
“I have only this to ask, Gurudev. In which way will you honour me with our freedom?”
Guru Shukra continued to frown at him.
Puru continued, “I will unquestioningly accept your decision, Gurudev, wether you free us in this world or the next.”
“And you think there are only the two choices which you kindly give me?”
“I do.”
“And perhaps before I strike you where you stand, you will tell me why you think so?”
“Because we have committed no crime and I know that you will not punish those who have done nothing. I await your answer, in which way will you give me our freedom?”
Guru Shukra examined his face leisurely. Puru felt the weight of his gaze like a heavy burden, but he stayed calm. “You are not afraid of me,” Guru Shukra said, “this confidence did not come from your father.”
“I learnt it from you, Gurudev.”
“From me?” He sounded surprised.
“When you brought me back from death,” Puru told him, “what was there to be afraid of any more?”
To his surprise Guru Shukra smiled and his whole face softened, “The curse was a mistake. It was not intended for you.”
Devyani said, “Father, what are you doing talking to him? Settle it once and for all.”
“What do you wish me to do?” Guru Shukra asked her, “This boy has already decided to take his freedom wether I give it or not.”
Puru said, “How can that be, Gurudev, it will always be your choice, and with your blessing.”
“Wether I like it or not?” Guru Shukra said to him.
Puru had no answer for that so he kept silent. Guru Shukra kept looking at him, seeing past into the depths. Finally he said, “I can strike you dead where you stand, do not think I will hesitate.”
Puru smiled at him, a happy, carefree smile. Today was so beautiful, even death was beautiful. “Yes, Gurudev, as I said, I will accept if that is truly your wish. Is that your answer?”
And then Guru Shukra laughed. He threw back his head and his face lit up with laughter. The buzz of talk fell silent as the courtiers turned to look. His booming laughter rang across the sudden silence that fell. Devyani stared at him with astonishment. It was so rare to see him laughing.
“I am pleased,” Guru Shukra said, “You have indeed asked me a question which I cannot answer. Your courage deserves a reward and I will crown you King.”
Devyani swung around outraged, “Father !”
Guru Shukra turned to Devyani, “Daughter, you had better come home with me. Your life here is over. Yayati is gone. Come and look after your old, helpless father.”
“Father, how can you do this? How can you deprive your grandson, Yadu? It is his throne.”
Guru Shukra looked past her to Puru, who was waiting, his hands still folded respectfully. “Are you happy now?” he asked.
Puru said, “Gurudev, you have not answered my question.”
The smile faded. “I have made you King, isn’t that enough for you?”
“May I have my answer?”
Guru Shukra frowned threatening, “Take what I give you and leave, boy. If you push me further on this you may not like the answer.”
“But I will accept it.”
“Then I will answer you. It will be in the next world, and not in this one.”
Puru bowed to him. He knew he should feel something, fear, anger guilt, anything. But all he felt was peace. “How much time do I have, Gurudev?”
“Take the throne and stop this foolishness. Otherwise you have till sunset.”
“Then it is till sunset.” Puru said. It was satisfying, this one last day to walk in sunlight and visit his mother. It was enough on a day like this, the hours till sunset would unfold slowly, like years, like flowers. He smiled.
Yadu stepped unexpectedly up to them. He said, “Grandfather, if you do not give Puru the throne, will it be mine?”
“Of course my son,” Devyani beamed at him, “it is yours by right.”
“Then,” Yadu said, “I do what my father never did. Puru, I free you and your mother. Go where you will.”
“That is not your decision!” Devyani flared at him.
“I have taken it. Will you curse me too?”
Puru knew he only meant to help, but why bother, he did not need help. He said quietly to Yadu, “This is not your problem. Better not make it an issue or you might lose the crown.”
Yadu said, “I don’t think I would mind that. I never enjoyed those endless meetings. There is more to life than work, you know.” He said it softly and only Puru heard.
Devyani glared at her eldest son, “What is the matter with you? If you want the crown you must do as I say.”
“Not at that cost,” Yadu told her.
His younger brother Turvasu had been standing and listening intently. He went beside his mother and put his arms around her. “Mother, I will always stand by you, I will only do as you wish.”
Devyani looked fondly at him, “Will you, my son?”
“Yes,” Turvasu assured her, “put me on the throne and I will send them both to the kitchen to work twice as hard. You will decide everything.”
“Oh, my son,” Devyani wept, hugging him close.
Yadu watched her cry over Turvasu and said to Puru softly, “My mother and my father are evenly matched. Tell me, when you leave, where will you go?”
“If I am alive, I thought I would go to the northern mountains.”
“That sounds good,” Yadu said, “maybe I will join you there.”
“Let us go together,” Puru said.
“Yes, and I think we are almost finished here.”
Devyani wiped her eyes, her arms still around Turvasu. “Father,” she said, “if it is not my elder son, let it be my youngest. Give Turvasu the crown.”
Yadu looked at his brother. Turvasu smiled at him, a triumphant smile. Yadu sighed, “Mother, will you at least tell me what is so important about Puru’s mother?”
“Turvasu did not have to ask,” Devyani said to him, “but if you must know I will tell you. When we were born there was a prophecy that her sons would deprive mine. I tried to make sure she had no sons, but she fooled me. Then what could I do? I did only what had to be done. Father, confirm Turvasu so we can all get back to the palace.”
“Oh, mother,” Turvasu said, hugging her again. Behind him the courtiers murmured, talking softly, spreading the news. A wave of noise spread to the farthest edges of the grounds.
Then Guru Shukra said, “I will not barter a crown even to please you, my daughter.”
Devyani turned to stare at him. Turvasu said something under his breath, but did not repeat it aloud. The courtiers close enough to hear fell silent, watching, wary, uncertain whom they would have to please. They pushed as close as they dared.
“Then who?” Yadu asked, “who will you chose?”
Guru Shukra said, “Yayati made a bet with me, and I promised him I would abide by it. He told me this boy Puru will wrest his freedom from me one way or another. He told me his one pointedness was unshakeable even at the door of death. I agreed that if he won his freedom then I would give him the kingdom. And I stand by my word.”
Devyani gasped, “Father, what are you saying?”
“Puru shall be king,” Guru Shukra said simply.
The shock showed on all their faces. Devyani stared at him aghast, speechless. Turvasu turned to his mother, began to speak, softly but insistently. When she did not respond he gave up. The courtiers were quiet and motionless. For a long moment no one spoke.
Puru broke the silence, “Gurudev, why bother? In the few hours I have left I will not even have time to enter the palace.”
Devyani began to speak in an angry voice, but Guru Shukra silenced her with a look. He smiled at Puru, “That was your test. I tempted you with the throne, and if you had accepted it, you would have lost it. I threatened you with death, and that did not move you either. Yes, Yayati was right about you. You have won fairly, and I will not interfere. You may deal with your own citizens in any way you wish, it is none of my concern. And I shall give you my blessing as well, go and be a far better king than your father ever was.”
He raised both hands in blessing. Puru bowed his head to accept it and felt a fiery wave of energy surge through his body. The storm broke as Guru Shukra finished and lowered his hands. Devyani and Turvasu began to speak together, loudly, harshly. The courtiers added to the talk, and in a few seconds the noise was so loud that it was hard to hear anything.
Puru saw it all in a detached way, as if it was not happening to him. He saw the flash in Devyani’s eyes and the look of anger on Turvasu’s face as he argued with his grandfather. He saw the many faces in the watching crowd, some looking confused, some looking upset. He saw the line of servants, not standing disciplined as they should, but huddled, in small groups, talking, glancing at him from the time to time. He saw the resigned smile on Guru Shukra’s face as he listened to his daughter. It all seemed to be happening just too fast and he felt as if he was only a spectator watching some distant drama unfold.
Yadu said softly to him, “My brother, I am happy for you.”
“I did not wish to seize your throne,” Puru answered, “this, I did not expect.”
Yadu gave him a shrug, “Neither did I, but it was fairly won.”
“I will not forget that you stood by me when no one else did,” Puru said, “I give you a share of the western kingdom. May we always be friends and all our descendants after us.”
Yadu put a hand on his shoulder, “Yes, may it always be so. Now take my advise for once, brother, I know this court better than you do and this argument will go on all day. Leave now, before anyone notices. Take your mother to Yayati’s palace and put double guards on the door, otherwise you will not have two seconds of peace.”
“I will do as you say. Come and meet me later.” Puru smiled and walked away. He made his way through the crowds and no one turned to him, they were so intent on the discussions. Puru found a stable hand beside the row of grazing horses. He had to ask three times before he was heard and then wait while his horse was saddled and brought to him.
He paused to look back once. No one was watching him, everyone was talking at once. The crowd around the Queen and Guru Shukra had grown enormous. Most of the courtiers were pushing their way forward to hear what was said. The babble was loud but even at this distance he could catch an occasional word in Devyani’s voice above the other sounds.
He was turning away when he noticed his brothers, Dhruyu and Anu standing together far away from the crowds, looking in his direction. Dhruyu took a step towards him and Anu said something. Drhuyu stopped. Puru saw their dilemma clearly and it did not interest him at all. He turned away and dug his heels into his horse’s sides. His horse bolted from a standstill to a sprint, almost unseating him.
He laughed, holding on, ducking the overhanging branches as the horse stretched into a gallop down the long road. The horse was young, fresh and eager. It ran gladly, wildly. The road curved out of sight of the camp, down a long stretch of rice fields and forest trees. One or two farmers, knee deep in rice water, straightened to watch him thunder past.
Puru ran, in a cloud of dust, in a frenzy of happiness.
When he had time, Puru promised himself, he would figure out what had just happened. Right now the wind was in his face, the sun was bright and somehow he had won a kingdom, somehow, and even that seemed so frail a thing compared to the wonder of just one more summer day, freedom at the end of the road, and a wild gallop like this, when it was enough, more than enough, just to be alive, just to be young again.
Historical note:
The story of Yayati and Puru comes from a different age, right at the beginning of creation, when the world was still young and magical. Brahma created the world, and Manu was the first ruler. Dynasties are counted down from Manu in Puranic history. Yayati was the fifth king after Manu and Puru was the sixth.
At the beginning of Puranic history came the great battles between the devas (Suras) and the asuras. The word ‘asura’ is sometimes translated as demon, but the customs of devas and asuras were very similar and both had brahmin gurus. One of the earliest stories is about the churning of the milk ocean, by both the devas and asuras, in which they obtained the nectar of immortality. The devas were the sons of Manu, and were dominant in the time of Nahusha, Yayati’s father.
The asuras survived only because of the power of their guru, guide and protector, Guru Shukra, who had the power to revive the dead. It gave them a great advantage, since the devas had no answer to it, and were unable to win over an army that refuses to stay dead. Eventually by subterfuge and trickery they also learnt the secret, and some kind of fragile peace was reached.
The Puranic stories of Yayati mostly show him as a colourful and rather eccentric king. Besides taking Puru’s youth to enjoy his romances, he was also thrown out of heaven itself for his arrogance.
He was king of a huge empire which bordered the lands of the asuras. Sharmishta was the daughter of the asura king, Vrishaparvan, and Devyani was her companion. One day after some disagreement Sharmishta pushed her into a well. Yayati was passing and rescued her. Devyani demanded that Sharmishta be given to her as a servant when she married Yayati. Her father threatened to leave if her demands were not met. Unable to refuse Guru Shukra, the king agreed even to send his own daughter into exile.
It is very likely that the alliance between Yayati and Devyani was an important alliance between the two countries, after decades of wars. Perhaps the throne passed on to Puru because he had the blood of both, the devas from his father and the asuras from his mother.
Puru had a long reign and became one of the most important kings of ancient India. After him his descendants were called the Pauravas. Centuries after, and more than thirty generations later, his lineage led to the Kauravas and the Pandavas of the Mahabharat. The Kurukshetra war was fought by his descendants on both sides.
Krishna, who aided the Pandavas in the war, and without whom they could not have won, was a Yadava, a descendant of Yadu, and undoubtedly the most illustrious descendant of his race.
Puru inherited the central kingdom, on the banks of the Saraswati, and the other sons of Yayati ruled the lands around it. Yadu ruled the southwest, including what is today Gujarat, Rajasthan and a strip to the north all the way to Mathura where Krishna was born in the Mahabharat age. Turvasu’s kingdom was in the south east, Dhruyu ruled the West and Anu ruled the North.
All these stories come from the limitless storehouse of the Puranas and the Mahabharat, an ocean of tales, in which there are still so many little known treasures just waiting to be unearthed.
