The announcer finally took matters into his own hands, and reading from a list, called: ‘Patcharanihanta, Lord of Karusha!’ The Karushan stepped forward warily. He wore a blue cloak, and beneath it, a shining suit of green.

‘I’ll wager he won’t even be able to lift the bow,’ Shakuni said. He unabashedly enjoyed the prospect of the Royals failing. For a change, he was not the laughing stock.

‘I will take your wager, Lord of Gandhar,’ Bhurishravas said, raising his goblet. ‘A gold sovereign that he at least displaces the bow from its place.’

Shakuni nodded his acceptance. Lord Patcharanihanta’s spotted hand looked like a chicken claw as he extended it to raise the bow. His brow furrowed in waves of tension, and a throbbing blood vessel leapt out on his forehead. The bow moved four fingers before he gave up, heaving and panting.

‘Well earned, Shakuni,’ Bhurishravas laughed. ‘One more?’

‘I won against a Balkhan,’ Shakuni said cheerfully. ‘I am going to savour it.’

‘If only we were in Balkh. You would have to pay tax on your winnings…and I would have got the money back.’

Shakuni laughed. They watched the heroes of Aryavrat march forth, each more fabulous looking than the last, each failing more miserably than the one before. The crowd booed each suitor who failed, as he made the long walk back to his seat, dejected and forlorn. Shakuni had not had so much fun since Dhritarashtra had slipped in the mud and fallen face first in his garden.

But the whistling and laughing of the drunken revellers set like the moon before dawn as the Magadhan Emperor rose. The Emperor was participating himself! In the gallery, all eyes turned to Shishupal, who cringed in embarrassment. ‘He insisted…’ was all he said.

Jarasandh had the build of a wrestler. Shakuni saw how Karna shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Ah…a threat, I see. But when Jarasandh did not run his hands over the bow, Karna heaved a sigh of relief.

‘He won’t be able to lift it,’ Bahlika said. ‘The iron makes it too heavy.’

Jarasandh grabbed the bow. Veins bulged along his arm as the bow moved, then shook, and in a flash was high in the air. The crowd was on its feet, caste and clan forgotten. Cheers erupted from all corners. Karna’s mouth hung open, his eyes gleaming in admiration.

Shakuni wasn’t sure what to think. ‘Did he…?’

‘He picked up the bow using brute force, didn’t he?’ Bhurishravas said.

‘It would seem so,’ Karna found his voice. ‘But the sheer strength required…’

Shakuni’s eyes fell on Krishna, seated in the shadows behind Draupadi and laughed aloud at the deep frown that suddenly appeared on his face, as if trying to shatter Jarasandh’s focus with his will. But Jarasandh curved the bow, the veins on his arms popping out with the strain, a blue tint to his sweat. After the bowstring had been tied to the notch, Jarasandh dropped the bow, breathing heavily. It was perfectly curved now.