The Kuru War: A Mahabharata Fiction

4| A Family Secret

Hastinapur 528 BCE

A young Bhishma, sat on his bed, recently awakened by the high pitch sound of the canaries outside. He looked around. His room wasn't any different from the previous night. That was unusual. Generally, a legion of servants would sneak into his room and serve milk and tea. They would open the windows, letting the first light of the day inside. It was accompanied by a fresh cold breeze from the mountains in the west or the refreshing scent of plants after the night's rain. The servants would then ready the prince's breakfast outfit. Typically, a crimson dhoti matched with a cotton angvastram. And that was when they'd finally wake him up.

Bhishma opened his bedside window and realized that the day had started more than an hour ago. Still, the grounds outside were deserted as if it was the middle of the night. There were no Brahmin kids, with their white silk robes and shaved heads, going to the library for their morning lessons. Soldiers who usually paraded the grounds, either practicing or patrolling, sat huddled in a corner. Everything was oddly quiet.

Even though he was much smarter than most kids his age, a thirteen-year-old Bhishma did not know what to make of it. He simply slid into his soft satin footwear and headed out of the room to find a familiar face.

He visited the dining hall first, a gigantic area where Bhishma ate every day. It had enough room to seat a small army and was filled with mouthwatering aromas from the kitchen on the other side of the wall. There was a colorful fur carpet that covered the floor, made from stitching the skins of several animals together. A dozen silver thalis were organized on top of it and large pots of food rested on a platform in the middle. Bhishma expected to see people sitting on the carpeted floor, or at least his mother because she finished last. It was part of the tradition for married women to wait for their husbands to finish eating before they were allowed to take the first bite. But both the dining area and the kitchen were empty. The food lay untouched in the thalis, getting cold.

Next, Bhishma went to the courtroom, there might have been an urgent matter for the council that needed the king's presence. He expected to see his father sitting on the throne, surrounded by an array of councilmen and servants. Hastinapur was the capital city of the Kuru kingdom and the king's throne was believed to be a reflection of its prosperity. Everything about it, apart from its seat, was made of pure gold, studded with precious rubies and topaz. They were peace offerings from all over the continent and the king flaunted them openly during events involving representatives from foreign lands. But the throne and all the councilmen seats were empty, in fact, the room seemed in more disarray than usual. As if everyone had left in a rush.

Looking around the corridor, Bhishma saw his mother's Dasi running upstairs, with a large bowl of water in her hands, she went into the royal quarters. That's where the king and the queen slept. Bhishma had never seen his parents room before, even though his own room was in the same section of the building. He followed the Dasi who rushed into a large crowd gathered around one of the rooms. Bhishma could recognize many faces among the group. There was the chief councilman, the general of their army, many servants he remembered from his morning rituals, courtroom workers, and in the corner, standing against the wall was his mother. Ganga. Yes, she was named after the river Ganges.

Ganga saw Bhishma running towards her. He saw her mother's wet face and immediately knew that something was wrong. He did not say anything but wrapped his arms around her neck as she sat down to his height.

"My son!" Ganga cried.

Bhishma could not speak as everyone turned their attention to him. An expression of pity and sadness filled their gaze. Nobody else spoke either as Ganga started to audibly sob on Bhishma's shoulder.