Every warrior is awarded one moment of truth.
Nothing before that moment matters. Nothing after it has meaning.
It is that one moment. It savours Life; tempts Death; courts Immortality.
Yet, no desire for immortality compelled this man to open his eyes. He was simply terrified of dying!
He could not perish without knowing…without being exonerated…without knowing who had brought about such a dishonourable defeat.
Darkness had descended. The din of battle had passed. Night wind whistled through the tall grass. Its chill gnawed at his raw wounds. Scuffing and snorting sounds floated in the air.
Hyenas! Feeding on bodies… they are coming...
A soft pattering made him half rise in panic…letting loose a deep groan. Agony shot through him like a lightning bolt. He had glimpsed a large, dark stain in his lower body. He felt his life trickling out drop by drop…the scent of blood…it will draw the canines to me. I have to move away…
Clenching his teeth against the pain, he forced his broken body to his will. Heaving unsuccessfully a few times, his body was freed of the sticky quagmire. On bent elbows, he squelched through a morass of blood and mud. Inch by inch, he dragged his useless lower limbs. Panting and gasping his way to the trees edging the forest, he lay still. Death hovered. Bright flashes burst in his head. It was so tempting to give up to the darkness, but he was too stubborn. I must know…
Behind closed eyelids, rose the magnificent army he had led across the country. Saffron pennants fluttering, rows of artillery guns, hundreds of troops and the sardars on their caparisoned elephants. Zealous, brave, dedicated… nothing could break their resolve. They had marched to crush the invader.
Where have my splendid legions gone? Trampled into the dust… covered in bloody, squishy mud…bodies piled up in heaps. Epics will castigate me as the vanquished commander… whose army was decimated.
Everything was seriously wrong, right from the start.
The enemy was aware of their strategy…their plans. The enemy shattered his troop formations, annihilated his army, trampling all passion, confidence, fortitude.
But how did they know our plans? Were our plans given to the enemy?
Yes! It must be the way. Somebody gave our strategies to them…somebody conspired this defeat…a traitor! We bit the dust not because we lacked courage but because we were betrayed.
But how did the traitor get hold of my plans?
He had always been careful…never divulged plans to anyone. Only he, the supreme commander knew the full picture.
Who could do have conspired against them without being implicated?
Suddenly, his heart lurched. Of course! She! She knew my plans. She knew everything.
Bitter bile rose into his throat as he recalled that she had deceived him.
She has to be the traitor. Who knew as much as I did?
Traitor…traitor…traitor…the word echoed inside his head…. searing him...burning him…setting him on fire.
I gave her my all…and she stabbed me… in the back…
His heart splintered in a sharper pain than that wrought by enemy blades. Consciousness blotted out was balm to his anguish. Swathed in its shroud, he plummeted beyond time. Remanent of just one last thought floated around him…Now I know who is to blame but the toll extracted is futility of my earthly existence. O Mahadev! I did not seek immortality. I only wanted to leave behind a legacy for generations to come.
However, the very person I wholly trusted has thwarted my endeavour.
That was a moment of truth for an eminent warrior, Sadashivrao Bhau, Commander-in-Chief of the mighty Maratha Empire.
Here I was... thinking how to reach out
to you...wondering what would connect us...
And then my eyes fell on these words by Rumi...
Why struggle to open a door between us
when the whole wall is an illusion?
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