Warriors of Dandaka: Kaand ll "War Drums" Chapter Two
Pushpak Karnick
11 August 2007, 23:15“We are doomed,” Kausalya’s words rang out in the Suraksha Kaksha. “Yes, Mahamantri Sumantra, we are certainly doomed if we lose our morale on such empty threats.” She gestured at a silk scroll lying on the table before them.
Her eyes scanned those present in the room. Mahamantri Sumantra, Guru Vashishtha, Mantri Jabali (more than his usual morose self), and a few other handpicked officials from the Defense Ministry. Her eyes rested on the chair to her right, the chair of the Chief Commander, the Senadhipati, which lay empty after Dasaratha’s demise. This first circle was surrounded by another circle of chairs, empty but for one, intended for the court scribes and personal aides to note the events. Mahamantri Sumantra’s personal aide, Amalendu was furiously scribbling on his parchment, religiously noting every detail of the meeting.
“What more could the enemy ask if we were divided amongst ourselves? He would probably win over us without shedding a drop of blood!! The path of our Dharma is treacherous, and we would do best if we continue to follow it to its entirety. Our dharma is to defend Aryavarta, from foes beyond its borders,” she paused, “as well as from those within.”
“Maharani, I request permission to speak.” It was Senapati who spoke. She nodded and he continued. “Maharani, our spasas have reported that our numbers are greater than theirs,” he glanced at a piece of parchment in his hands, “by a fair amount. Under normal circumstances, less than a quarter of our troops would have been sufficient to stop them. Do not forget that we fought alongside them not so long ago. We know their strengths and weaknesses. That said however, an army is only as capable as its leaders. With neither the late Maharaj nor the Rajkumars to guide us, our troops are nothing but a pride of wayward cubs.”
“Senapati-ji, I concur.” Kausalya’s voice grew heavier as she spelt out the stark realities of the Kosalan army. “If our king was still alive … If our brave Rajkumars were here to help us … If we had not been stabbed in our backs by the very people for whom we shed our blood in the Last Asura War … One could go on and on. However, this is not the time to lament upon our deficiencies, rather it is the right time to find their remedies. It would be prudent …”
She looked up as the door opened and Kaikeyi stepped inside. Their eyes met, and held each other for an instant, before Kaikeyi bowed to her.
“Maharani”
Kausalya acknowledged, nodding in return, and continued addressing the council. Kaikeyi came around the table, keenly aware of several hostile stares boring into her back, ignoring them, till she reached her place – to the right of the queen, in the second circle.
“As I was saying,” Kausalya continued her train of thought, “it would be prudent not to engage in open hostilities with our own. No matter what the outcome, it will be Aryavarta that suffers.”
An awkward pause lingered as Kausalya finished speaking. Finally, Kaikeyi broke the silence by addressing Kausalya herself.
“Maharani, if I may be permitted to speak.”
The request caught the council by surprise. Most of the council had not seen Kaikeyi in person in the last couple of years, and their memories of the erstwhile haughty queen had been nothing that could be associated with the civility of the current request. Some openly displayed their surprise, much to Kausalya’s amusement.
“Go ahead, Rani Kaikeyi.”
“Maharani, I would like to know why the council has been summoned in Suraksha Kaksha. As I received your request for attendance but a short while ago, I request a short briefing on the matter that threatens Kosala. If, as you say, this concerns Aryavarta itself, then it is indeed a matter of utmost importance.”
Kaikeyi could see that her statement had made the council, well everybody except Kausalya and Guru Vashishta, open uncomfortable. Mahamantri Sumantra lowered his gaze to the floor, and some of the ministers stole quick glances to each other, and to Kausalya, who sat on her seat with measured equanimity.
Kausalya looked at Sumantra, and with her eyes, urged him to speak. Guru Vashishta must have done the same, using his method of speaking into the mind, for Sumantra looked as if he was startled from his slumber and was eyeing the Guru with caution.
Finally, he cleared his throat and began to speak.
“Rani-ji, as you may have been aware, a couple of months ago, we began receiving rumors that some of our officials in the Western most provinces were having trouble with the citizens of their local constituencies. There were rumors, unconfirmed reports, that farmers whose lands had wilted under the harsh summer, had resorted to looting caravans passing through their borders in order to sustain their families. As there was no confirmation through our official channels, we could only send tentative instructions to our officers to maintain law-and-order and report back on such incidents as soon as they happened.
While the official position remained being cautious and not acting on mere rumors, Maharani Kausalya dispatched two of her trusted spasas to ascertain the veracity of the rumors.” Sumantra sighed and his voice lowered.
“Both the spasas never returned. We never found out through our secondary network of local spasas about what happened to them. The last report that we received was a message intercepted by our men,” he pointed to the silk scroll on the table. “This confirms our worst fears – that there is indeed an armed unrest growing on our western borders in which some of our local officials have gone missing, or worse, have been killed. Corrupt officials have penetrated the bureaucracy at almost all levels in the panchayats, and they have the support of elements from outside our borders.”
Kaikeyi sensed that the Mahamantri was clearly uncomfortable continuing from hereon, so she asked him for the scroll. An aide brought it over to her and she began to read.
The first thing that surprised her was the texture of the silk. It felt vaguely intimate, as if she had known it all her life. The scroll itself was pretty minimal. There were no embroidered symbols to confirm the identity of its sender. The writing itself was hurriedly done, as if the message had been sent through at great risk,. the very risk that planted the message in the hands of their spasas. The message was short, she noticed, and in plain speak. Her eyes went over the contents, and she froze when she reached the bottom. Though she did not recognize the name readily, she saw that it was marked with the seal of the serpent and the crescent moon.
The royal seal of Kekaya.
