KRISHNA CORIOLIS#1: Slayer of Kamsa (21 page)

Vasudeva looked to his bride. Devaki lay crumpled in a heap, crying a little but mostly just in shock from the violence of the episode and the proximity to death. Vasudeva gently cradled her in his arms. She looked up at him and, while she said nothing, her light-brown eyes – the colour of freshly threshed wheat from a good harvest – spoke eloquently. His own eyes read them easily. He knew that she was telling him that he should have killed Kamsa much before this day; that her brother was a monster, a demon, a rakshasa among men, and deserved no more than to be put down like one. She was pleading with him to do so even now. Her eyes cut away from him, seeking out and finding the sword that Kamsa had dropped, and which now lay only a foot or two from Vasudeva. She looked at the sword then raised her eyes to him, then looked pointedly at Kamsa. Words could hardly have expressed it any more clearly.

Vasudeva’s heart filled with a great sorrow. He knew that Devaki was right. Pacifist though he was, he was no fool. Had Kamsa never returned to Mathura, there would have been no need for Vasudeva to go after him and seek his destruction. But now that he had returned, making his intentions so clear to one and all, celebrating his return with a chilling dance of blood and death, laying violent hands upon his own sister, Vasudeva’s wife, he was no more a potential threat. He was a tangible enemy.

And the voice. It had said that Devaki would bear the child that would kill Kamsa. Vasudeva had heard it, even if Devaki had not. He had also heard Kamsa’s utter conviction that everything the voice said to him was true. He had called it ‘saptarishi’ and who was to say that it was
not
a saptarishi speaking to him from some ethereal plane? Far stranger things had occurred in Aryavarta of yore. What mattered was that Kamsa believed the voice and it had pronounced that Devaki’s son would prove to be the death knell for Kamsa. Now, Kamsa would kill Devaki; or, if he didn’t wish to see his wife murdered in cold blood, Vasudeva would have to kill Kamsa.

Devaki looked up at Vasudeva, waiting.

When Vasudeva made no move, she took the initiative. Reaching out, she picked up the sword and turned it around, inverting it so that the hilt faced Vasudeva, and offered it to him.

As soon as she did this, the watching crowd broke out of its stupor.

First one citizen shouted hoarsely:‘Aye!’

Just that single word, so clear yet terrible in its surety.

Then: ‘Kill him!’ This from the woman who had begged Kamsa for mercy and aid before he stopped the uks cart.

‘Kill the prince!’ cried another. A chorus of ayes followed this one.

Then a young boy’s voice called out: ‘Lord Vasudeva, save us!’

And the dam broke.

With one voice, the entire populace shouted for Vasudeva to kill Kamsa, to slay their crown prince, to destroy the monster, put down the rakshasa, kill, slaughter, murder, finish.

Vasudeva looked around, not sure whether to be pleased or saddened. Pleased, for it was evident how dearly the people loved him. Sad, because it was their own crown prince they wanted killed. He gazed at the sea of upturned faces, shouting mouths and pumping fists.

Amongst the crowd, he could see Kamsa’s mercenaries, confounded by the developments of the past several minutes and unable to decide what to do next. At least the killing had stopped for the time being. He also noticed the soldiers of both Andhaka and Sura colours moving in discreetly to ring Kamsa’s warriors. He saw Kamsa’s allies and aides, Bana and Canura, looking around in dismay as they took in the obvious fury of the crowd. It was one thing to infiltrate a happy and celebratory crowd of wedding voyeurs and take them by surprise and quite another to stand in the thick of a raging mob that knew exactly who you were and wanted you dead. Right now, the people’s attention was on Kamsa. The moment Kamsa was slain, they would look around to seek out his soldiers and, judging by the intensity of their anger, they would flay them alive for the deaths they had caused today.

Vasudeva raised a hand, requesting silence. The din faded, reluctantly but respectfully, and he was able to speak.

‘I know you desire this, and I do not say it would be wrong. What Kamsa has done today is sufficient to condemn him forever. Even so, I cannot take his life summarily.’

Querulous cries of outrage rose from all around. Vasudeva raised a hand again.

‘I signed a pact of peace with your king not long ago. Regardless of how many times and in how many ways your own prince and your own soldiers – his erstwhile marauders – may have broken that pact,
I
cannot do so. I will not do so. I have upheld the sacred accord signed and sealed between me and your king Ugrasena all these many days, and I shall do so even today. Kamsa shall be taken to your king to be judged by him and brought to justice as your king sees fit. It is King Ugrasena’s prerogative, not mine, to judge him and punish him with whatever danda he sees fit.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Vasudeva glimpsed Bana and Canura sidling away backwards, seeking to make good their escape.

Raising a hand, he pointed directly at them, drawing everyone’s attention to them. Both men froze, aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes upon them now: angry, vengeful eyes.

‘However, the men Kamsa brought with him today – the ones who butchered so many innocent bystanders and honourable soldiers as they stood at their posts – these men are outsiders and I, being the king of the Sura nation as well as the co-protector of the Andhaka nation, have as much power to pronounce judgement upon them as King Ugrasena. Seeing the grave threat their freedom poses to each of us gathered here, I deem it fit to try them here, try them
now,
and stop them from carrying out their vile plans.’ He paused, raising the sword to point directly at Bana and Canura. ‘Apprehend them at once, dead or alive.’

With a terrible roar, the crowd moved to do his bidding. The Mohinis, unable to understand the dialect of Mathura or the Yadava tongue fluently, were unable to comprehend Vasudeva’s words. However, they sensed that something was amiss, and several were ready to act. But this time, they were hemmed in tightly. It was difficult to pirouette and spin and dance acrobatically with flailing swords when one had barely a foot of room to stand in. The crowd converged on them like a pond swallowing pebbles, and while several succeeded in causing more deaths and wounds before succumbing, they all went down without exception.

Vasudeva watched grimly as the crowd meted out the punishment they felt Kamsa deserved upon the mercenaries who had done his bidding.

‘Is it just?’ Devaki asked him. ‘To condemn ordinary soldiers, even mercenaries, to death thus? While sparing my brother simply because he is a prince? Is this not unfair and unequal treatment? Are not all men to be treated equally under dharma in Arya law, in your own words?’

Vasudeva nodded. ‘I do not spare Kamsa because he is a prince. I spare him because he is an Andhaka, and I have signed a pact that states that I will not kill any Andhaka.’ He pointed at the crowd, slaughtering the assassins one by one. ‘Those men – or whatever they are – may be equal under dharma. But they are not Andhakas.’

Devaki caught his arm, pressing herself against his side so she might whisper into his ear.‘If you will not do it, let me,’ she said.‘Give me the sword; I shall kill him. We cannot let him live.’

Vasudeva caught her hand gently before it could take hold of the sword and take it from his hand.‘We must let him live and let your father judge him under law. Or we would be just as demoniacal as he.’

She looked up at him, and in her eyes he saw her acceptance but also her anxiety.

eight

King Ugrasena’s court was filled to bursting. There was barely room to stand. Hundreds more waited outside the sabha hall and the palace grounds and the streets outside were packed as well. The entire kingdom waited to hear the outcome of Kamsa’s trial.

A flurry of excitement rippled through the crowd as King Ugrasena entered from a private entrance and took his place upon the royal dais. Queen Padmavati was by his side. Vasudeva and Devaki were present as well, as were Kamsa’s brothers and their new wives. The ministers of the court, the preceptors, the purohits, the Brahmins, there seemed to be no one who wanted to miss the trial. In many ways, it was a curious echo of the same collective that had gathered at this same venue for the sealing of the peace accord.

Ugrasena waited for the court crier to reel off his long list of antecedents and titles before taking his seat. Everyone else remained standing, but Ugrasena knew that he would not be able to get through this procedure on his feet. He could barely get through it at all. He glanced at Vasudeva, wondering what alien
metal the man was made of. Had he been Vasudeva’s age and in his position, he would have struck down Kamsa where he stood without a second’s hesitation. There was no law, no dharma and no Arya court that could possibly condone all the evil that Kamsa had unleashed upon his own people as well as their neighbours.

The months of Kamsa’s disappearance had been among the most blissful of Ugrasena’s later years. He had even begun to hope that his son was dead, lying slain on some foreign battlefield, or murdered in the dark filth of some alley behind a drinking house or place of ill repute. The change in his queen had been palpable as well. After suffering the shock of learning the truth of what Kamsa had been up to, she had grown into a pale shadow of her former self. While no longer the stunning beauty he had married over two decades ago, she had at least been carrying her age gracefully, which was more than could be said about himself.

Now, he decided, it was time to end this travesty once and for all.

‘The facts of the trial are unquestionable,’ Ugrasena said.‘This morning, we have heard them all, reported by the most reliable witnesses possible.’ He glanced warmly in Vasudeva’s direction. ‘I shall not dither or delay justice any further. Dharma dictates that Crown Prince Kamsa be given the sharp edge of the fullest extent of the law for his many crimes against humanity.’

A murmur of approval passed through the gathering.

Ugrasena went on grimly, ticking off the points of his judgement one by one as the court munshis raced to keep pace with his recitation. Later, the purohits and scholars would rephrase and clean up his pronouncement to ensure that the official record was properly pompous and officious enough to be fit for posterity. Right now, he used brevity and incisiveness to convey his points sharply and quickly, concerned more with getting over with it than with the beauty of phrase.

‘First, I strip Kamsa of his crown. No more is he crown prince.’ That was crucial under law, for a crown prince was, by virtue of his position, not subject to any judgement of any court of the land. In fact, since the king was himself the chief dispenser of justice in a Yadava republican court, the crown prince was the chief-justice-in-waiting, so to speak. A court could hardly rule against one of its own senior officials. By stripping Kamsa of his crown, he had removed that legal hurdle.

‘Secondly, I divest Kamsa of all his royal titles, possessions, lands, property and anything else of value that he may currently own, may have owned in the past or may claim to own in future, under my authority as his pitr as well as the king of the Andhaka nation. As all possessions of the royal family are merely community property given to them for their use, Kamsa’s possessions belong to the
Andhaka nation, and the Andhaka nation hereby takes them back.’

With his wealth, inheritance, property, servants, soldiers, in short,
everything
gone, Kamsa no longer possessed anything of value with which to buy support or raise military opposition; neither would any heirs that Kamsa might have appointed or produced biologically, of which Ugrasena was not aware. Again, a point of law, but a crucial one to avoid future complications.

‘Now, Kamsa is an ordinary citizen, subject to ordinary laws. As such, I find him guilty of multiple counts of abuse of the peace accord between our nation and the Sura nation. I also find him guilty of numerous instances of assault, murder, conspiracy, rioting, and other crimes.’

Ugrasena paused, eyes sweeping the rapt faces of the gathering. After a long time, he felt strong, in command, as if he was truly king again.

Kamsa had emasculated me,
he thought bitterly.
Unable to fully accept the truth of his misdeeds or punish him myself, I had lost all confidence in myself as a ruler.

That was another debt he owed Vasudeva. By his honourable actions and decisions, exemplified by the brilliant manner in which he had apprehended Kamsa rather than simply executing him, he had reasserted dharma in Mathura. It was a powerful message and one that Ugrasena intended to underline now.

‘For all these crimes, I, Ugrasena, king of the Andhaka tribes collected into one nation under Sri
the Eternal, Isa the Supreme, and Narayana the Infinite, condemn Kamsa to be executed in the public square in front of the palace.’

He raised his rajtaru, pleased to note the steadiness of his grip and the firmness of his voice.‘Such sentence to be carried at once.’

The rapping of the rajtaru on the floor of the dais boomed and echoed throughout the sabha hall.

nine

Padmavati sighed as Ugrasena pronounced the judgement. As a mother, her heart broke to hear such a sentence. Not because she disagreed, but because she lamented that her son, her flesh and blood, should have brought himself to such a pass. What had she done wrong? Should she have nursed him longer as an infant? Cared for him personally rather than have the daimaas look after him? Been stricter in her punishments? She was wracked with self-doubt, questions, anxieties and guilt.

The people suffered from no such dilemma. The roar of approval that greeted Ugrasena’s sentencing made that clear. The enthusiastic cheers and shouts that echoed through the sabha hall, the palace and the streets could not be called jubilant – for which kingdom enjoys the execution of its own crown prince? – but it was certainly coated with relief. Nobody had doubted that justice would be done, but after long years of being at the receiving end of Kamsa’s atrocities, and the ugly disputes, feuds and other conflicts, the people’s faith in the king had slipped a little.