July Issue
For this month’s issue we have tried to unravel the various facets of the number Seven. We asked people what they can create with the number “seven” and this issue holds the answer.
The number seven has such colorful facts surrounding it that you cannot disregard it. The seven continents and the seven seas, the seven wonders of the world, the seven virtues and the seven deadly sins, the seven heavens and the seven fires in hell, why even the seven horcruxes of Lord Voldemort!
We hope you have fun unraveling this magical number as you flip through these pages.
Happy reading!
Draupadi
By Manasa
It took me a while to realize that the voice I heard was mine.
I had cried out involuntarily and now it was too late to swallow my words. My brother looked at me, with a dull, heavy expression on his face. He had not expected me to speak out thus.Karna still held the bow aloft, while Duryodhana’s eyes flashed in anger. I was not sure what to say, but my voice completed it for me. I was amazed by its coolness.
“I will not marry a man who has no roots. Isn’t it true that this man was adopted and he knows nothing about his parentage?”
Years later, I would understand a fundamental truth about all people, and about myself. Every person has a weak spot, a kind of soft cartilage; their deepest insecurity that they, at all costs, try to protect. They do this instinctively, because they know it is their weakest spot. All of the rest of their personality – the bluster and the blemishes, are to hide this one crucial fact. And if someone found this secret and hurt him there, it meant terrible things. Vulnerability, and power and sway over a person.
I had a special talent, something of a curse even. I knew instinctively what a man’s weak spot was.
Yudhistra’s was lack of order in the world. He was a dreamer, preferring to live in a world where everything was right and orderly. To jostle him, you just had to open his eyes to the filth and muck of the world around him for a fleeting second.Arjuna’s was a fundamental insecurity in the point of his abilities. Once, he told me that every time he strung an arrow to a bow, that one crucial second before pulling the string, he would not be sure where to aim or how to aim or why he should aim shafts of wood and metal at random things. “Archery is pointless,” he said with a wearied philosophical look. “I do it only because I can’t do anything else and it gets me stuff. No other reason.” My father’s was his lameness. He walked the same as everybody else, with specially made artificial feet, and always wore long robes to cover it. But he could never mount a chariot, he could never straddle a horse.
Karna’s was simple. He did not know his mother. He did not know his father. He craved an affectionate heart. That was all. And, I had spoken, in the middle of the fighting ground where all the princes and kings known and unknown were assembled. I had taken his secret and exposed it to the world. Men started murmuring. After all, they knew about his extraordinary ability. He was sure to win me if he was only allowed to shoot. Angry bickering broke out in some parts. Duryodhana’s face was as black as thunder. Karna was looking at me, hatred written all over his face. At least he did not have that superior expression of confidence anymore.
My father finally decided. “My daughter’s right. Karna, you must have to go.”His decision was swayed by the fact that Drona lived with Duryodhana’s family. He could not attack the royal teacher of his son-in-law’s people, had I married Karna. Karna contemptuously threw the bow down, and walked back to the pavilion, not breaking eye contact with me. I scowled back. What a jerk!
I could see Duryodhana and Karna talk among themselves, throwing dark looks at me. I averted my gaze. Now I was feeling slightly sorry, because I saw the bow where Karna had flung it down. He had actually managed to lift it!
Now there were other princes coming forward who tried their might to move the bow, let alone lift it. As morning became high noon and the sun sank lower on the western sky and the garlands in the tray next to me started wilting, I thought that at this rate maybe I would never get married. Where was Arjuna? Was he really dead? Because there was no one else around who seemed equal t the task. Why did my father want to get me married anyway? What was with Kanhaa, always hanging around here, telling me stories of Arjuna.Arjuna this, Arjuna that, when that good man would probably not bother to even show up.
As the sun started to set slowly, bringing the easterly winds with in, Duryodhana stood up to exclaim, “So it looks like none of your fine bred princes could lift the bow. And here’s an able man that your good princess rejected for the want of family.” At that moment, a knot of men in a corner, an anonymous invisible group among a group of Brahmans, quietly spoke. “Kind Drupad, if you will allow it, could my brother try? It is not like we lack family.”
A knot of five tall and quiet men, with patience and valor writ side by side on their faces. Of course. How could I have not known.My father nodded. He seemed to have realized the same fact too. Duryodhana said, “Ah, yes. You would let a Brahman participate, but not my dearest friend. No better man would you find for you daughter, believe me.”
Karna, meanwhile, put a hand on Duryodhan’s shoulder trying to calm him down. I was so interested in this little drama that I did not notice the goings-on in the field. A huge roar from the crowd brought me to earth, and I saw the fish on the ground, an arrow in its eye, and a man holding a bow standing next to it.
Arjuna, of course! Who else could it be?
My brother escorted me to the man with the bow and put my hand into his. I placed the slightly withered garland around his gaunt neck, my knuckles lightly brushing his cheek.Around us, there was a commotion. Duryodhana’s friends questioning the validity of the match. This man – my husband’s friends answering back. There were small fights erupting all around us. The man in front of me stood dazed, looking at me, not like a hero, but like a knight pledged to service.
“Arjuna,” I said his name.
He smiled back at me, and grasped my wrist. “Come. It’s not safe here. We should go.”
And I, who had never left my father’s palace in all my years of existence, was running along madly with a gaunt man with flying hair, still clutching a bow in one hand.
It was a short ride. Arjuna, and his brother, the big, beefy, good natured Bhima were on the chariot. Bhim directed good natured insults at Arjun and grinned at me as he held the reins of one sickly horse. We burst into laughter over nothing from time to time; Arjun, spurred on by his marvelous feat, I, because I was free from my father and brother now and had Arjun by my side, and Bhima, because he was Bhima. It was an orange tinged sky and the night closed on us as the open chariot slowly made its way to where the boys lived with their mother. You may have heard of the Pandavas as brave warriors, so it is easy to imagine them as full grown men, with curling mustaches and rippling muscles. When I married Arjuna, I was sixteen, and Arjuna was twenty.
Bhima was a year older, twenty-one, and the twins were only a year older than I. We were adolescents. The boys could fight like barbarians, but they were boys all the same.Bhima and Arjuna were animatedly discussing Arjuna’s feat.
“You buckled once, just one,” said Bhima.
“Yes, I was balancing the bow on my forearm. I had to propel the weight to my shoulder. Once it got there – twang! It was simple.”(It was not. Later, Arjuna told me that he had thought he could not do the task. That was why he had hesitated so long before trying out.)
I was content to listen to their chatter and look out at the countryside, feeling my veil blow in the wind. “I hope your brothers are OK,” I told Arjuna.
“Yeah, they’ll be fine. They don’t need our help now that you are not there. Yud, Nakul and Dev are smooth talkers. I noticed that your father was fine with me carrying you away like this. Krishna must have told him.”
“Told him what?”
“That we would be there in disguise. I’m sure Duryodhana guessed. We are in hiding, did you know that?”
“Oh my god. Are you in danger now?”
Bhima chipped in. “We have probably been in danger since we were born. Our cousins and their father don’t like us, you see. They tried to burn us alive.”
And Bhima told me the whole story – of the wicked plan to burn them in a guest house and how they had escaped by digging a hole in the ground and burrowing their way out. The five boys and their mother had journeyed through forests alone, making sure they were not caught by Duryodhana’s spies. Bhima recounted their adventures, and what tales they were! I listened in rapt attention.
“Bhima even managed to find himself a wife,” interjected Arjuna at one point.
“Really?” I turned to Bhima and smiled at him. Truth be told, I was not aware of this piece of information. I thought I was the first daughter-in-law of this house. Also, if you had asked me to pick out one man amongst the five who would be likely to be married before the others, I would have naturally picked Arjun. Bhima seemed too much happy-go-lucky for the binding ties of marriage.
“Who is she? How does she look? Can I meet her? What’s her name?”
For some strange reason, Bhima averted his eyes. I decided not to question any further, but Bhima spoke, with more dignity than I had seen from him so far.
“Her name is Hidimbi. She is a forest woman, a wild tribal girl. We fell in love while I was in the forest and I married her. We must even have a son by now. Unfortunately, we had to move from that spot, and mother advised me to leave her there. Taking a forest woman along with us would attract attention. I suppose she was right. She can fend for herself in the forest better, I guess.”
To marry a woman, give her a child and leave her destitute in the forest! This man cared for her, it was obvious. But circumstances had forced him to abandon her, or that’s what he said. I was not sure who to feel sorry for – the poor girl, all alone in the forest with child, or this boy, muscled and tanned, with strength enough to crush mountains but not enough to rout the circumstances and his mother’s will.
At that point, I did not stop to think whether what Bhima had done was right or wrong. I only felt his loss keenly. Spontaneously, reaching a hand out, I stroked his riotous curls.
Bhima looked at me, like a calf looks at its mother. Arjuna smiled at us and patted his brother on the back, a brotherly gesture of affection. Silently, with a hundred questions running through my mind, we went ahead to meet the matriarch. Mother Kunti.
(To be continued ….)
Picture Credit : http://www.flickr.com/photos/vaticanus/
January 2010 Issue
Hello There,
Here we are with a new issue on the new year. Our Jan issue is themed “Sibyl” and we are all set to take you on a journey in to 2010 and beyond. Filled with short stories, poems, book reviews, movie reviews and our usual columns, we are sure you will gobble this up.
Dont forget to tell us what you think. Leave a comment or email us at editor@thebanyantrees.com
Dec 2009
We are back with our second issue in the month of December.
December is the month when we recap the good and the great moments that left us by.TheBanyanTrees keeping in tradition has made “Reflection” the theme for this month.
Happy Reading! You can read the magazine by clicking on the issuu link below or by clicking on the article links that are listed .
Buy the print version from here
Short Stories
Some Salt,Some Lime, A Song and A Wedding.
What is a wedding without some innocent pranks? Sirpy Jayaprakasam weaves a funny story amidst the backdrop of a good old south Indian wedding
Downcast
The rains bring memories, and Asha walks home drenching in the rain ,carrying the rain drops that seem to grow heavier with each drop.
I watch
A short story by Dhivya Arasappan about the life of a woman as seen by the most unusual member in her life.
Upon Reflection
A short story by filarial about a student, his teacher and his dangerous quest to find the ultimate truth!
Series
Draupadi
“Manasa starts episode 1 of her running series Draupadi. She leaves you gasping for more,yearning to know the secret that Draupadi learns on her death bed.”
Sports
Twenty…on to thirty
Karthik Krishna reminisces about God’s incarnation in the cricket field, Sachin Tendulkar, on his twentieth year in International Cricket.
Poetry
Yet Another Monsoon Rain
Anuradha Chandrasekaran looks back at the wonderful memories she created during the monsoons through this poem
A day that approaches…
Raghuram Godavarthi in this poem ponders about the inevitable
Travel
A Path to Heaven
Prajakta Bhasale describes her trip to the beautiful, serene and unblemished northeastern states of India
Columns
Dude! Where is my coffee?
It is all about finding your prince/swan among the sea of frogs and ducks. Dreamvendor talks about wading
through dozens of frogs and ducks before you find your prize catch in his column
Entertainment
Pearls Among Swine
Aditya Srikrishna evaluates the 5 movies that have been the most underrated in bollywood in 2009
Book Review
Divya Ramachandran reviews the book “The case of the missing servant by Vish Puri”.
Science
Scientifically Literate
Dhivya Arasappan talks about the 5 most intriguing discoveries of this year in the world of science
Refreshing Rendezvous
Students recounting their once in a lifetime meeting with India’s former president. Dr.A.P.J Abdul Khalam
To check out our photography section, check out the web version by clicking on the magazine link above.
