By the end of the day not a single airavat who had charged the Curfew remained. Emboldened by the feat on the Curfew, the Republican Army, hiding on the rooftops of the buildings in the Second District, charged the Red Cloaks trailing the airavats who had been retreating. From above, and the rear, they attacked. They killed the mahouts of the surviving airavats with their arrows, and without a master, the beasts scattered away. Mathura had clearly won this round.

And Krishna had the best sex of his life that night.

7 Elephant and Airavat riders/trainers

I

‘Partition on these terms is unacceptable.’

‘Your terms are a pile of horseshit, is what he means to say!’ Arjun had had enough. ‘Are we beggars to be given alms? You give us Khandavprastha – a ruined fortress in the middle of an infested forest. And the fields of Kurukshetra. Nothing grows there. Not even hope. And Varnavrat – a village!’ Arjun fumed. ‘Do not forget the smallfolk are with us. Hastinapur remembers the Mansion of Lac. They will rally to us, as will the Hundred.’

A threat backed by fact, Shakuni noted. It was true. If the matter went out of this chamber, partition would be forgotten and the King would not win even farmlands for his son.

‘Arjun, this is not the way to address the King. You must beg pardon,’ Yudhistir said sternly, but conveniently after Arjun was done outlining his discontent.

In the face of Arjun’s ominous silence, Yudhistir turned to the others. ‘I humbly apologize on my brother’s behalf. Young blood often bubbles more than it actually boils. What he meant to say was that if there is to be Partition, it should be on equal terms. Equal as a whole; in terms of area, influence, and revenue. The areas that have been allotted to our share, generous as they are, are riddled with problems that cannot be compensated for even by your suggestion of monetary compensation for three years. It is not as if after three years Kurukshetra will start growing crops, or the Nagas who live there will become extinct.’

‘You have Panchal, son,’ Dhritarashtra pointed out.

And once again the discussions rambled on. Meanwhile, Shakuni twirled a scroll in his hands. Fidgeting with it. Unrolling it. Reading it. Sighing heavily. Sahadev finally caught the bait.

‘What is it that you hold, Lord of Gandhar?’ he asked.

‘Oh this…’ Shakuni said, apparently agitated. ‘Most dreadful news, Prince, which I am unable to digest. But according to the Diktat, I must hold my tongue.’ He dropped the scroll and it rolled over to Sahadev on the other side of the table. ‘Ah, my stiff fingers. Prince, would you please be kind enough to return it. My back is not what it used to be.’