The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 Read Online Free PDF Page A

was a woman now, an intelligent, strong-willed adult. Surely, it was not inappropriate to…?
    The question formed the answer: It was always inappropriate. She was the daughter of a man he considered his teacher, and the great-granddaughter of Ghora Angirasa, Secret Keeper of the Firewrights. It was, conventional morality decreed, treachery of the highest order to entertain such thoughts.
    As though she knew exactly what was running through his mind, she said, ‘Ah yes, the old objectification argument. I am …property… aren’t I? A thing in my father’s keeping to do with as he sees fit? For all your talk, Govinda, you see me the same way. Else…’
    ‘Else…?’
    ‘Never mind! As you rightly pointed out, what could anyone find interesting about the human heart?’
    Govinda laughed. The veiled meaning of her words seemed to him as obvious as the emotions she tried to hide. ‘Believe me,’ he said, pushing a windblown strand of her hair away from her dark cheeks, ‘I find nothing more interesting than your heart. But…’
    ‘But you’re afraid that you will break it, some day.’
    ‘Yes.’
    It was her turn to laugh. ‘You will, Govinda. You need to accept that, not fear it. You see, the more you break my heart, the more I will know that you care for me. Now come along; the Secret Keeper is waiting for his cowherd prince…or, should I say Commander? Come, he says he has much to discuss with us.’ She made to get up, but Govinda caught her wrist and leaned in close, feeling the quickening of her pulse, letting the smell of lotuses that was uniquely hers wash over him like life-giving rain. He breathed in deep. The fragrance filled him completely from the inside. And then he let go.
    ‘Commander? Commander, we are here.’
    Govinda Shauri looked up as the vehicle came to a stop. The memory of her fragrance faded, bringing him uncomfortably back to the present. For once, he had chosen to make the journey to Hastina in a carriage, rather than on horseback. Such symbolic gestures, he knew, were important when dealing with the formal, tradition-bound Kurus. To arrive on a stallion was to suggest virility and aggression whereas to amble in by horse-drawn carriage carried subtle suggestions of conciliation and diplomacy. As things stood, no gesture was too deferential, not after months of negotiation by the able and mild-mannered Acharya Dhaumya had failed.
    ‘Commander?’ Daruka, Govinda’s trusted captain, prompted again.
    ‘Thank you,’ Govinda said. He got out of the carriage, bracing himself against the gust of wind that hit him. Daruka dismounted from his seat as driver and wrapped a cloak around him.
    Govinda smiled at the man and said, offhand, ‘By the way, you really should stop calling me that, you know. I’m no longer Commander of Dwaraka’s armies.’
    ‘You’ll always be my commander, Commander,’ Daruka insisted, a smile playing on his lips. Then he said, his voice more serious, ‘But there are also times when you will simply be Govinda, the young, rebellious gwala I met… By Rudra! Has it been so long?’
    ‘It has,’ Govinda said, shrugging to settle the cloak closer around him. ‘And you’ve stood by me through much, in all these years. But what lies ahead…’ Govinda stared hard at the looming outline of the palace of Hastina, but his expression eased as he caught sight of an approaching figure. ‘Well, Uncle?’ he addressed the newcomer. ‘What news? Or will you say that your allegiance to the Kurus prevents you from telling me?’
    Vidur walked up to the carriage to greet Govinda with an embrace, but his mind was clearly on other things. ‘There is nothing that you won’t find out for yourself in a few moments, Govinda, so I might as well tell you.’
    Govinda laughed. ‘Let’s get the obvious out of the way first, shall we? I suppose by now Bhisma Devavrata has decided on his stand?’
    ‘Yes. He favours Syoddhan.’
    ‘That is hardly unexpected. The Grandsire,