FOURTEEN
When dawn broke the next morning, Virata and his soldiers, Kanka, Ballava, Damagranthi and Tantripala were all fast asleep outside the city after nightlong revelry. With dawn, Duryodhana's army attacked the Matsya capital from the north and made off with sixty thousand cattle.
Once more, the cowherds ran to the palace. The king and all his men were away at the camp, which was some yojanas beyond the southern gates. Only Virata's youngest son, the prince Bhoominjaya, also called Uttara Kumara, was there, playing his vina for the women of the royal harem. The prince was a handsome youth of sixteen.
The cowherds came to him and their leader cried, "The Kuru army invaded us! They lifted sixty thousand cattle. Your father always says what a fine kshatriya you are; this is your chance to prove him right. Hurry, Uttara Kumara, rescue our herd!"
Another cowherd said, "You play sweetly on the vina, my prince. But fetch your bow now and let the music you play on it strike terror in our enemies' hearts!"
Uttara Kumara put aside his vina. He rose solemnly and he was truly a fine-looking young man. Glancing into a mirror on the wall as he spoke, he said grandly, "I will come to rout the Kuru host!" He paused. "But how shall I ride without a sarathy?"
He let imagination carry him away for a moment. "I lost my sarathy in a twenty-eight day war I fought recently. Just find me a sarathy and watch Bheeshma, Drona, Kripa, Karna and Aswatthama die. As they fall, or flee, they will cry, 'Is this Arjuna? For no other man can fight like this!' Cowherds, only find me a sarathy and you shall have your cattle back."
Malini was there among the other women. She blanched to listen to the prince compare himself to Arjuna. Her eyes flashed, she bit her lip and then she heard Brihannala the eunuch calling her into the passage outside.
Taking her hand, Brihannala said, "I thank you for your anger, my queen! But there is no time to lose. Tell the princess Uttaraa that when the Khandava vana burned, Brihannala was Arjuna's sarathy. Tell the princess that Brihannala is a superb sarathy. Let her brother take me into battle."
Draupadi looked doubtfully at him. The eunuch said, "Hurry!"
Malini took princess Uttaraa aside, "The Matsya herd can be saved. I have a sarathy for your brother."
"A sarathy, here?"
"Yes. Brihannala was Arjuna's sarathy when the Khandava vana burned. I have heard there is hardly another charioteer like the eunuch."
Uttaraa stared at the sairandhri. Malini said, "Tell the prince to take Brihannala into battle and I swear the Kurus won't stand before them. Why, the Devas and gandharvas would run from the eunuch's chariot."
The princess looked at the flower girl again, to see if she was joking. Malini was entirely serious. Uttaraa ran to her brother and cried, "Put on your armor, pick up your bow! I have found you a sarathy."
He turned to her, amazed, "Who is the man?"
His sister said, "The sairandhri tells me Brihannala was Arjuna's sarathy in the Khandava vana. He says there is no sarathy on earth like Brihannala."
The prince called Malini. "Is it true that Brihannala is a sarathy?"
Draupadi said, "The best there is."
Uttara Kumara could hardly extricate himself honorably now. All the women had heard his boast. He mumbled, "But I am a kshatriya. How can I go into battle with a woman for a sarathy? Not even a woman, but someone who is neither a man nor a woman. Besides, will Brihannala agree?"
Malini said, "In a crisis, my prince, you shouldn't think too much of such trivia. Just a moment ago, you were saying how you would fight like Arjuna. Now you have Arjuna's sarathy to drive your horses, Uttara Kumara, show us you are a kshatriya! As for Brihannala, let your sister ask him and he will not refuse."
The prince was cornered. The women and the cowherds all cried to him to ride after the Kurus. Helpless and with a young man's bravado, he told Uttaraa, "Ask Brihannala if she will be my sarathy."
Uttaraa summoned the eunuch. Brihannala came into the women's chamber with mincing steps. Uttara Kumara said, "The sairandhri tells me you were Arjuna's sarathy in the Khandava prastha. She says that not Indra's Matali, Krishna's Daruka, or Dasaratha's Sumantra is your equal. The Kurus have stolen our herd and I must ride after them. Will you be my sarathy, Brihannala?"
The eunuch tittered, "Ah, prince, what do I know about fighting? All I know is music and dancing. How can I be your sarathy, O Kshatriya? Won't your enemies laugh if they see me at your chariot-head?"
Uttara Kumara said, "Brihannala, put on armor and be ready to ride."
His sister Uttaraa appeared with a coat of mail, light as the wind, bright as the sun. She pressed it into her dance-teacher's hands. Giggling, Brihannala received the burnished armor.
"I am supposed to wear this? But I don't know how to put it on."
The eunuch struggled with the coat of mail; first putting it on back to front, then dropping it clumsily. The women laughed. Uttara Kumara came forward in exasperation and helped her into the armor, securing it at her back. This was exactly as Arjuna intended; he never put on his own kavacha when he went into battle. At last, Brihannala was ready in the coat of mail. Now the princess and her women looked at the eunuch strangely, for it seemed her femininity fell away from her when she donned the kavacha. Brihannala stood among them, quite splendid and the sairandhri had such a gleam in her eye.
Brihannala said, "Come, my prince, I can't wait to see you raze the Kuru host!"
The prince's chariot was at the palace steps. Carried away by now with his own heroic image of himself, Uttara Kumara climbed into the chariot: a great kshatriya at least in the eyes of the women. Still tripping daintily along, the eunuch climbed up to the sarathy's place and took the reins.
Princess Uttaraa cried, "Brihannala, when my brother has beaten the Kurus, bring me their capes to make clothes for my dolls!"
Brihannala called back, "You shall have the Kurus' silks!"
She flicked the reins expertly over the horses and they were off, the eunuch and the young prince, to fight the Kuru army on their own.