Free MAHABHARATA SERIES BOOK#2: The Seeds of War (Mba) by Ashok K. Banker Page B

this Yayati realized that he had been entrapped by this young woman as effectively as she herself had been trapped in that cold dank well. It was upto him to rescue himself. He rose to his feet, preparing to go, knowing that if he did not leave her at once, she would have him. Nonsensical though her arguments seemed, they were nevertheless rooted in sanskriti, the immutable tradition of their culture. If indeed a man grasped a young maiden’s hand, he was in fact presumed to be proposing marriage – this was the origin of the phrase, ‘taking her hand in marriage’. Yet the more he better he came to know Devayani, the less inclined he was to marry her. He intended to get on his horse, ride back home and never see her face again. 
    ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, following him as he walked over to the spot where his horses were tethered.
    ‘I am leaving now,’ he said curtly. 
    ‘But you cannot! You have proposed marriage to me! I have a thousand witnesses!’ 
    Yayati looked around. The maids were watching them with the avid interest of women treated to a dramatic performance. Which in fact, it was. Except that the conclusion of this drama would be very real and it involved two human lives. 
    He moved closer to Devayani, keeping his voice low. ‘This is over, Devayani. I have no intention of marrying you. You tried to trick me but you’ve failed. I am leaving now and I will not return again.’
    At that moment, Devayani’s heart filled with utter hatred and rage. Once again, she was being abandoned by a man she loved and desired. Kacha’s terrible curse was coming true: No man would willingly marry her. Already, she was growing past the prime marriageable age. Once she was even a year or two older, even men who were attracted to her would think twice before proposing. Yet instead of making her shrill and agitated, her rage made her cold and perfectly lucid. ‘You cannot leave,’ she said. ‘Dharma is on my side. A king such as you can never transgress against dharma. It will be your ruin!’
    Yayati cursed silently and turned back from his horses. ‘Woman! You test my patience now. I have said, I cannot marry you! Why will you not leave it at that? You are reasonably attractive, well-attended, influential, the daughter of a famous brahmin. You will have any number of young rishis willing to marry you! I am a kshatriya, I cannot marry you under any circumstances!’
    Devayani shrugged. ‘I declare you to be a rishi. I can have my father declare it if you prefer. A brahmin has the authority to declare another person of any caste a fellow brahmin. By that brahmin authority, you are made a rishi with immediate effect. That hurdle is removed. Now you cannot argue a difference of varna.’ 
    Yayati resisted the urge to punch his fist into the trunk of the tree to which his horses were tethered. ‘Brahmin authority! I do not care about brahminical authority! You cannot alter the facts to suit your purpose whenever it pleases you!’
    Devayani replied in a honeyed tone: ‘Do you not hunt with whatever weapons and advantage you possess? A hunter must fell his prey in any way possible.’
    ‘I am not a prey to be downed by you.’
    ‘Certainly not. You are a man of great worth and stature. You are a prize husband. And I am the daughter of a great brahmin. It is a match made in heaven.’
    ‘Then go to heaven and find someone suitable! I am not available to marry you.’
    ‘Why not? Give me one reason at least.’
    ‘I gave you—’ He stopped, realizing that she had effectively negated the varna argument. Brahmins indeed had the authority to declare a kshatriya also a brahmin, especially a raj-kshatriya. He sought about desperately for some way out of his insane trap. Then it occurred to him: If there was one thing a brahmin would not tolerate, it was an insult against their varna. Brahmins were impossibly egotistical. Thus far, Devayani was perfectly in control and had the upper hand. But if he