Before he could make up his mind, Shilavati addressed the Danda-Nayak, ‘You are clearly disturbed by the situation. Find out the truth about these boys. Where have they come from? Who are their parents? Are they really Brahmanas?’
Yes, they are, Keshini wanted to say. They belong to my village. But she kept quiet.
The Danda-Nayak looked at Yuvanashva not sure whether he should proceed. Yuvanashva did not like his mother giving the orders. But this had to be done. He nodded in agreement and let the Danda-Nayak proceed with the investigations. ‘Ask Matanga to confirm if the man you saw yesterday is now actually a woman.’
the truth of the boys
When Matanga came to the dungeons, he recognized Somvat instantly. ‘I know him. I know his uncle. He is a Brahmana from my village. He serves in the temple complex of the goddess Tarini and is due to marry the widow Kaveri’s daughter soon. Why is he dressed as a woman?’ he asked the guards. They said nothing.
‘How did this happen?’ he asked the boy, after examining him.
‘It just did,’ said Somvat.
The Danda-Nayak spoke to Matanga, visited Tarini-pur, pieced the whole story together and informed the king of his findings. ‘They belong to Tarini-pur, not Pratishthana and are sons of poor but decent Brahmana families. Their names are Sumedha and Somvat. Both are orphans. Their parents were killed in the flood that struck Tarini-pur fourteen years ago. Somvat lives with his uncle. Sumedha has no one and is raised by all the Brahmana families collectively, each family taking the responsibility of feeding, clothing and sheltering him one month at a time. The boys study and serve in the temple of Tarini, the village goddess. They are the thickest of friends, inseparable, like twin brothers. As the years passed, they watched all their friends get married and raise families. Without wives by their side, Sumedha and Somvat were not allowed to perform yagnas, and pujas, or serve as Acharyas. Struck by the arrows of desire, frustrated at being excluded from all village ceremonies, finding boys even younger than them getting married, the two boys had started showing signs of desperation. They neglected their duties and spent all day looking at the images of Apsaras painted on the temple ceilings. The chief priest even overheard them saying that a Chandala wife is better than no wife at all. Not wanting the boys to do something foolish in their frustration, he gave himself the task to find them wives. But he found this difficult. No one wanted to give their daughters to men without parents or property. Finally, Kaveri, a widow, agreed to let the two boys marry her two daughters. But she had one condition: that they must secure at least one cow for themselves before marriage thus proving their capability to provide for their wives. Somvat was lucky. Thanks to his uncle’s position in the temple, he was chosen to perform niyoga on the wife of Trigarta, the horse-herder. The union was successful and it earned the boy a cow. But Somvat refused to get married until Sumedha found a cow too. He was adamant that he and his friend who had lost parents on the same night should get wives on the same day. It was this desire to find a cow for Sumedha, I suspect, that made them do what they did at the temple. Somvat’s cousin says that he overheard Sumedha say that life was unfair, the widow of Tarini-pur would not give him a wife unless he had a cow while the queens of Vallabhi would not give him a cow unless he had a wife.’
Somvat’s uncle was summoned to Vallabhi. ‘My nephew is a man,’ he said on arrival, pleading for his nephew’s life. ‘How dare Matanga say he is a woman? Under the influence of the vile Sumedha, he put on a woman’s clothes. For that he is guilty. We apologize on his behalf, Rajan. Forgive him. He is a child. He does not share the guile of his friend.’
The horse-herder, Trigarta, came forward and said, ‘Yes, yes. He is a man. Who better than me to say it? He planted his seed in my wife’s body right before my eyes. What a fine specimen of manhood! Why would he want to wear women’s clothes? Momentary madness, I think. Or a youthful prank whose magnitude they did not fathom. Forgive them, Arya.’
The chief priest of Tarini’s temple was outraged because the sari Somvat draped around him and the jewels he adorned himself with were stolen from the shrine. ‘They have insulted the goddesses. They must be punished. Tarini must be appeased. Else she will spread out her tongue and cause a flood to destroy our village once again.’
only the king can judge
When he was a boy, Yuvanashva kept hearing the story of Bharata, who knew the answers to the most unanswerable of questions. The Yoginis, handmaidens of Shakti, kept asking him difficult questions. He kept giving replies that satisfied them immesely. Sixty-four answers to sixty-four riddles. Pleased, the Yoginis let him sit on their throne which made him Chakra-varti.
Once, the Yoginis asked Bharata about Lakshmi and Alakshmi. ‘Lakshmi, the goddess of fortune, and Alakshmi, the goddess of strife, are inseparable. They always travel together. Like twins. Like sisters. Both approach Vishnu and ask him who is more beautiful. What should Vishnu answer? You know the consequences of offending either sister.’
Bharata replied, ‘Vishnu should tell Lakshmi that she is beautiful when she walks towards him. He should tell Alakshmi that she is beautiful when she walks away from him.’
‘What a clever answer,’ said the Yoginis, ‘You have made both sisters happy and ensured fortune walks towards Vishnu and strife walks away from him. You, Bharata, are truly the wisest of kings.’
On hearing this story, Yuvanashva told his mother, ‘That was a clever answer. But was it a correct answer? Who is really more beautiful? Lakshmi or Alakshmi?’
Shilavati replied, ‘There are no correct answers. There are only appropriate answers. And it all depends on one’s point of view. If I was Shiva, it would not matter who walked towards me and who walked away from me. Shiva is a hermit, indifferent to peace, prosperity, strife and poverty. Vishnu, however, is a guardian of society. A householder’s god. For him Lakshmi matters. She makes the world bountiful and joyful. Alakshmi, he shuns.’
Yuvanashva was told that a Chakra-varti is the model king. He gives the most appropriate judgments.
The case of Sumedha and Somvat was an opportunity to demonstrate he too could give appropriate judgments. The Yoginis were posing an unanswerable question. ‘Is Somvat a woman because he has no manhood today? Or is he a man because he had a manhood yesterday?’
What would be the correct answer? Whose point of view sould he consider? A hermit’s or a householder’s? Masculinity and femininity did not matter to Shiva. But they mattered to Vishnu. Hence it mattered to kings, who were Vishnu’s dimunitive doubles, upholding dharma in their tiny kingdoms just as Vishnu upheld it in the entire cosmos.
How can manhood and womanhood depend on a point of view? wondered Yuvanashva. Surely, it is a truth independent of a point of view? An unchangeable truth. We don’t choose our bodies. Like we do not choose our parents. Both come to us at birth as Yama’s decrees.
Shilavati had summoned Vipula, Mandavya and Matanga to her audience chamber to discuss the strange case. Yuvanashva insisted on joining them. ‘What about the yagna?’ asked Shilavati.
‘I can manage both, mother,’ said Yuvanashva firmly.
Yuvanashva was clear he wanted the case to be presented in the maha-sabha, not in his mother’s audience chamber. This was his opportunity to show his prowess as king. He hoped that his mother would let him. Vipula always said that power is taken, never given. Yuvanashva hoped there was a better way. He wanted to convince his mother. Or at least make Mandavya compel her.
Mandavya replied, ‘Long ago, Janaka, a forefather of your mother, organized a gathering of Rishis to find out the nature of truth. They discussed and debated the topic for years. Finally, Yagnavalkya concluded, “There is one truth which depends on the point of view, changes with history and geography. It is contextual, impermanent, incomplete. Then there is the opposite kind of truth, independent of all viewpoints, responding neither to history nor to geography. It is permanent and complete and known only to Prajapati, who sees all with his four heads. You and I are not Prajapati. We h
ave only access to incomplete truths.”’
‘What is dharma then? A universal permanent truth or a contextual, impermanent truth?’ asked Yuvanashva.
While Mandavya pondered over the question, Shilavati was quick to reply, ‘It cannot be anything but a permanent truth. Our body, our lineage and our age are the cornerstones of dharma. They determine our social obligations. They are unalterable. Hence dharma is unalterable.’
Yuvanashva did not agree. She was made regent in response to a crisis with the blessings of the Angirasa. Was that not a bending of dharma?
‘When should a man retire, mother?’ asked Yuvanashva. His tone was soft but confrontative. As if sharpening a sword.
‘When one’s children have children of their own. So that the earth is not exploited and she feeds only two generations at a time,’ answered Shilavati.
‘Bhisma did not retire even after his two nephews had children and grandchildren. His march of time is different from your march of time. He ignores the code of ashrama. Would you say he does not uphold dharma?’ Shilavati did not reply. Yuvanashva continued, ‘What is Krishna’s lineage? He is born of a Yadu nobleman and raised by a cowherd. In battle, he serves as a charioteer. How should we treat him: as a king or a servant? And Shikhandi, mother? Is he a man or a woman?’
Shilavati defended Bhisma. ‘Bhisma has not retired because his household is in turmoil.’ Then she defended Krishna, ‘He has not fought because he needs to be fair to both Kauravas and Pandavas. He is bound by marriage to both families. His sister is married to Arjuna. His son to Duryodhan’s daughter. So his army fights for the Kauravas while he serves as Arjuna’s charioteer.’ Then she said, ‘Shikhandi is Drupada’s son, born by the grace of Ileshwara.’
‘But mother, he was not born with the body of a man. He acquired his manhood mysteriously after his marriage. You must have heard the story of the bride and the concubine from your spies. Did his dharma change with it? Or did it not?’
Shilavati turned to Matanga, ‘Are you sure Somvat was a boy before and a woman now?’
Matanga said, ‘I have held him as a child, examined him when he had fever. As he grew up, his manhood was the talk of all the village. Asanga tells me that at the village pond all the boys called him “donkey.”’ Vipula chuckled. Shilavati did not respond. She found the comment vulgar. ‘But in the dungeons, I see that his body has changed. He has the breasts of a woman and there is no sign of his manhood. His hips are round. His features soft. I can’t explain this, Devi.’
After a long pause Shilavati said, ‘I guess, sometimes, the body can change, lineage may not be so clear, and age needs to be ignored. Depending on the situation rules, roles and rites do change. But for it to be dharma the underlying principle must be to help the weakest thrive, and to provide an opportuntity for everyone to validate their existence.’
Yuvanashva was overjoyed. This had never happened before. He had trounced his mother in an intellectual argument. His understanding of dharma was better than his mother’s. With or without children, surely now I am ready to rule, he thought. ‘Who decides what is dharma and what is not?’ he asked.
‘The king. So it has been since the day Vishnu declared Prithu a Manu,’ said Vipula.
‘A king? Not a regent?’
Mandavya avoided looking at Shilavati. Eyes lowered, he replied. ‘A king. Only a king.’
i am not afraid
Sumedha did not know about Somvat’s transformation. He had been put in the other end of the dungeon.
This plan of theirs was not supposed to go so horribly wrong. He had borrowed the white dhoti and uttarya lined with gold from the shrine of the divine warlord, Agneya, son of the goddess Tarini. Somvat had borrowed the red sari and yellow uttarya from Tarini’s shrine. Then both of them had borrowed from each of the seven Matrika shrines, which surrounded the main shrine, one piece of jewellery so that no one noticed their absence, earrings from one Matrika, necklaces from another. They had even stolen toe-rings and a nose-ring.
The toe-rings turned out to be too small and the nose-ring could not be worn because Somvat refused to pierce his nose. They had run out of the village at dusk and had travelled through the night fearlessly, enjoying each others company, stopping finally at dawn under a banyan tree on the banks of the Kalindi, a short distance from Vallabhi, where they changed into ‘husband and wife’. As he draped the sari, Somvat had said, ‘This is fun. Remember, we are supposed to be from Pratishthana?’ Since Pratishthana was so far south of Vallabhi, beyond the Vindhya mountains, Somvat had surmised there was less likelihood of them crossing paths of any Brahmanas from that city in Vallabhi. The Brahmana couples from Tarini-pur had already come and gone with the cows on the first day of the cow-giving ceremony itself. There was little chance of bumping into any one of them either.
Sumedha remembered how he suddenly became nervous, ‘It is not appropriate that a man wear a woman’s clothes.’
‘It is appropriate if done for a good cause,’ Somvat had said confidently, as he tried to figure out if the long end of the sari should be draped from front over the left shoulder in the manner of women from the east or from the back over the right shoulder in the manner of women from the west.
‘What do you mean a good cause?’ he had asked.
Somvat had replied, ‘You heard what happened in Matsya during the thirteenth year of the Pandavas’ exile. They all lived incognito as servants in the king’s palace. Draupadi served as a palace maid. The king’s lout of a brother-in-law, Kichaka, forced himself into her chambers. But the woman in bed turned out to be her second husband, Bhima, the mightiest Pandava.’
‘Really,’ Sumedha guffawed.
‘Yes, he had worn Draupadi’s sari to dupe the scoundrel. If Bhima can wear a sari to save his wife, why can I not wear a sari to help a friend get a wife? Now can you pass me the anklets.’
Sumedha had imagined Bhima in bed, dressed as a woman, trapping Kichaka between his thighs, crushing his chest with his mighty arms. ‘The anklets, Sumedha,’ Somvat had shouted shaking Sumedha out of his thoughts, ‘Be a good husband and pass me the anklets. Both of them.’
As Sumedha had picked up the anklets, he had spilt the small box containing vermilion powder which Somvat was to smear in the parting of his hair. It fell over the toe-ring. It looked like blood. Blood dripping from the fangs of the fearsome Matrikas. That’s when fear first crept into Sumedha’s heart.
Chained to the walls in Vallabhi’s dungeons, like an errant bull, Sumedha cursed his fate. No family. No wife. And soon no life. Was he paying for the misdeeds of the past? What could he do but endure? He had been beaten up mercilessly, dragged through the streets, humiliated in public, flogged, harassed and chained. All because he wanted a cow. Never before in his orphan life had he felt so alone, so miserable, so helpless and so afraid. He felt sorry for himself. More sorry for Somvat though. He did this for me. He did not have to. He already had his cow. Sumedha was engulfed by waves of guilt. Nobody cared if he lived or died except Somvat. And if Somvat died there were so many who cared for him. His uncle. His aunt. His cousin and sister-in-law, their teacher. Somvat had given up so much more. He remembered the times they spent together. Somvat would not eat a mango until Sumedha sucked on it first. Somvat would not start a meal until Sumedha joined him first. They wore each other’s clothes. Slept on each other’s beds. Friends? More than friends. Brothers? More than brothers. Wives would have torn them apart. But they had to marry if they wanted to enter the shrines, if they wished to perform puja and partake of the offerings of the yagna. Without wives they were incomplete. Without each other, they were incomplete. Could he live if Somvat died? Somvat’s death would be his death. He was sure of it.
‘Who did you marry? A man or a woman?’ the guards asked Sumedha.
Sumedha did not know what to answer. If he said he was not married, then he would be punished for duping the queens. Men cannot marry men. So he replied, ‘I married a woman, of course.’
‘A woman with
a man’s body or a woman’s body?’
‘I don’t know what happened in the temple. I married a true woman. I know her body. I cannot explain what happened in the temple. An apparition. A magician’s trick. A demon’s prank. Maybe sorcery. But I know I married Somvati. The rest I leave in your hands,’ Sumedha tried hard to sound convincing.
‘Matanga of Tarini-pur says Somvat is a boy, an orphan, just like you, that both of you study and serve in the temple complex of the goddess Tarini. You are not from Pratishthana, are you?’
Sumedha realized he had been caught. They knew where he came from. They knew everything about him. There was no escape. But he could not retract his words. That would make him a liar. Liars are flogged. In fear, he clung to his lie. ‘They are all lying. Somvati and I were married when we were children.’
‘Did the village witness it?’
‘No. I married as Gandharvas do. Nature was our witness. The goddesses were our witness. I tell you Somvati was always a woman. The village lies.’
‘Then who made Trigarta’s wife pregnant?’
Sumedha realized the guards knew the truth. They were entrapping him in his own lies. But he was afraid to admit he had lied. That he had tricked the royal family. He shook his head. ‘Please stop this. There is only one truth. I am a man. An orphan. I married Somvati, my best friend. My only friend. Please don’t harm her. She is a good girl. Let her go. She did nothing wrong.’
The guards found his words convincing. They did not know whom to believe. Matanga? Somvat? Sumedha? Or their own eyes?
The Danda-Nayak said, ‘If he speaks the truth, then we will earn demerit for keeping a husband and wife apart. Let us bring them together.’
‘What if he is not? We know what we saw,’ said the guards.