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hadn’t thickened sufficiently to mask the flush on my cheeks.
    I was born to Queen Kunti—the result of an affair with a nobleman. To conceal their little tryst, I was given away to be ‘never-heard-from-again’. An old charioteer called Adhiratha adopted me and his wife named me after herself. So I became Radheya, son of Radha, and spent my childhood in the stables learning my father’s trade. If life had gone on in that fashion, I would have been a suta, a charioteer like my father, married a nice girl and led a peaceful life.
    I wouldn’t be standing in this sabha feeling like a school boy before a thrashing.
    Drona was practising archery in the forest that morning when I had gone to collect wood. He was younger back then. He wore a saffron dhoti and carried a bow in his hand. There was nothing extraordinary in it. A brown-coloured piece of animal bone and wood, wearing the dullness of a well-used instrument. He placed his toe on the base of the bow and curved the top end to meet the bowstring. When the string was tied, he pulled back the string and let it twang.
    I can hear the sound even now.
    He took out an arrow and fired it into a wooden bull’s eye some few metres away. He did it slowly and I could see all the muscles in his arm flex and fade through the skin. Each arrow hit the centre of the bull’s eye, at the same place. I watched, completely in awe of his performance. I don’t think he even noticed me. After he finished practising, he walked away and probably forgot about it. But it left a lasting impression me. The thought that some day I could be like that—graceful yet deadly—stayed with me.
    I let the remark pass along with the muted giggles of our allies. We had bigger concerns at hand. ‘Guruji, I am here to serve the Kauravas. Now that Grandsire is not on the field, my enmity with him is at an end. I will bring my Anga contingent into battle and submit to the authority of my commander-in-chief.’
    This created a stir in the hall. Suyodhana took the staff from Drona and banged it hard on the floor once again. ‘Welcome back, Radheya. Better late than never.’ The room began to murmur and Suyodhana banged the staff on the ground again and growled menacingly at the gathered kings, ‘The purpose of this assembly is to appoint our new commander-in-chief. Would anyone wish to nominate themselves or any of our allies assembled here?’
    The room grew silent for a few minutes. The younger kings wouldn’t dare put themselves up for the reckoning, instead hoping for the patronage of some of the more ancient ones. In truth there were only a few names that could be considered seriously. I looked around scanning the faces. There was Suyodhana, but he would never nominate himself for the task, and his lack of tactical sense ensured that no one else would either. The rest of his brothers were not senior enough to vie for the position with the possible exception of Sushasana. Unfortunately, Sushasana had been given the responsibility of protecting Grandsire today, and had failed miserably at the task. He was lucky to be breathing in the tent tonight much less being given the command of the remaining akshauhinis of Bharatvarsha’s finest.
    There was Jayadratha, Suyodhana’s brother-in-law, the king of Sindhu. He was a major contributor to our armed forces with his cavalry troops and horses, but was no match to Bhishma in stature. The fact that he had been humiliated in a melee with the Pandavas before the Kurukshetra war would also have worked against him. Then there was Kritavarma, the general of the Narayani Guard—the best troops in our confederacy.
    There was Shalya, an uncle of the Pandava twins Nakula and Sahadeva, who found it more economically beneficial to join our army, and Shakuni of Gandhara, uncle of the Kuru princes, spewer of venom, instigator of hate, and after Suyodhana, my greatest ally in the ranks. While all of them could stake a claim to the top job, I knew of just three people who