Next to Karna, Shakuni snorted. ‘I hope the irony of this is not lost on the Princess. She refused a life in a stable to settle for a cremation ground.’

SHISHUPAL felt unsettled by the furore around him, which was suited more to a swarm of stablehands than a gathering of champions. Some of the Namins had jumped over the barricades and raised the Aghori onto their shoulders for a victory parade. It was rather unbecoming of the Northern Namins, otherwise reputed for their austere conduct.

Draupadi rose, muttered something to Krishna. Shishupal saw Krishna urgently whisper into her ear, but Draupadi pulled away from his grasp. The cheering paused. The music screeched to a halt. Eyes turned towards her. Black eyes glinting with malice and hate. Apart from the vague creaking of the revolving wheel, the arena grew silent. All wanted to hear what the Princess had to say.

‘I will not marry an Aghori!’

Shakuni chuckled. Guards marched. Namins roared. After that it was a blur. The Aghori, who had been carried on high, was forgotten. Someone shouted from the Resht gallery: ‘If it is her choice not to marry a Resht, then it is her choice not to marry a Namin!’

‘How dare you compare a Resht to a Namin? Blasphemy! We will not stand for this!’ a Namin shouted.

‘What do you mean, you bald fucker? Do you think we Reshts are lower than you?’

‘You are a cur, Resht! How dare you even speak to me!’

‘I do not wish to speak to you, sod, but I will spit on you!’ Saying which, the Resht spat in the Namin’s face.

The Namins reacted as if a temple had been desecrated. They jumped on the offending Resht, kicking him. Another section of Namins shouted, ‘We’ll see how the Princess does not marry this Aghori!’ Climbing down from their galleries and rows, they rushed towards the dais, the tufts on their bald shiny heads bobbling in excitement.

‘The Namins seek to attack a Ksharjan Princess!’ Lord Dharmeyu of Sivi exclaimed, rising to his feet and calling on his fellow Ksharjas to defend the Princess against being forcibly married to a Namin. ‘Create a ring of Ksharjas around her!’

Many Ksharjas rushed into the fray, creating a guard below the platform where Draupadi still stood, her face pale, her eyes dilated in fear. But suitors and attendees had not been permitted to bring weapons to the swayamvar, and without their swords, the Ksharjas were powerless against a mob that outnumbered them three to one.

One of the Ksharjas noted this and cried out, ‘Why are we defending her? Abduct the Princess! That will teach her father a lesson for humiliating Ksharjas with an impossible task! This contest was clearly rigged!’

Suddenly, a bottle flew through the air, end over end, its surface gleaming in the sunlight, till it crashed into the Ksharjan’s head and shattered into a hundred shards.