The Secret of God’s Son

Prologue

Deep in the woods, shadowed by twisted trees and shunned by forest creatures, the ashram pulsated with occult energies. The brooding silence that enveloped it was broken one moonless night by the chanting of two fierce priests invoking deathly powers. The flames of the sacrificial fire leapt high. Higher still burned the hatred in King Drupada’s heart as he waited for the son who would avenge him.

From the fire emerged a valiant warrior clad in shining armour. Fearsome Dhrishtadyumna, born to kill Drona, Drupada’s foe. The king’s face shone with fiendish glee, while the priests exulted at the success of their secret rites. The flames sank back into the sacrificial pit.

As Drupada and the priests turned to greet the warrior, lightning flashed into the smouldering embers and the flames exploded upwards again as if to consume them. Another figure emerged from the yagna kund—dark, glowing, ominous. A wondrous maiden, born not from Drupada’s prayers but from the earth’s plea to the gods to lighten her burden . . .

‘Draupadi will be the most beautiful woman on earth,’ declared a heavenly voice. ‘And she will bring doom to the arrogant warrior clans.’

The smoke turned black. Thunder rumbled in a cloudless sky. The priests felt a dread worse than death. Their eyes shut in fear and they failed to perceive the goddess, black as the void, who flashed out of the girl’s body. It was mighty Chandika, the fierce avatar of Durga, destined to devour the world using Draupadi as her medium.

Years passed. Blessed by the goddess, Draupadi grew into an enchanting woman. When Drupada arranged for her swayamvara, the kings who came to vie for her hand were spellbound by her charms. But she turned them away in disdain. She laughed at Duryodhana, the mighty Kuru prince. She scorned his companion Karna and called him low-born. The kings who failed to win her hand cursed her for her arrogance. And all the while, Chandika watched from above, her lips curled in contempt.

In a grim portent of the future, Draupadi wed the Pandava Yudhistira, son of Yama. And then she married his brothers too, forging a formidable fighting force for the goddess. The spurned kings were many in number and mighty in arms. They gathered against Draupadi and her husbands, setting the stage for the cataclysm to come.

Chandika’s scornful laughter echoed in the skies.

Evil omens afflicted the earth. Duryodhana dreamed night and day of killing Yudhistira so that he could seize Draupadi and take her to his bed. Eventually, the Kuru prince lured the Pandavas to his court in Hastinapura to play a treacherous game of dice. Yudhistira lost everything—his riches, his kingdom, his brothers, his own self and then his proud queen Draupadi.

Aflame with lust, trapped by destiny, Duryodhana ordered his brother Duhshasana to fetch Draupadi to the court. The prince hastened to the mansion of the Pandava queen where he flung aside the protesting maids and burst into the chamber that no stranger was permitted to enter. He focused his vile gaze on Draupadi, lying on her bed, eyes closed.

‘Arise, slave, and follow me!’ Duhshasana bellowed.

Draupadi sat up in alarm, straightening her garment that lay in disarray. ‘Duhshasana!’ she exclaimed. ‘How dare you enter my antapura? My husbands will tear you to shreds. And then they will behead you for your offence!’

Duhshasana threw back his head and laughed. Fear clutched at her heart as she stared at him in disbelief. ‘Has some calamity befallen them?’ she asked. ‘Have you and your hellish brothers killed them? But no, they are proud lions who cannot be slain by jackals. Perhaps you poisoned their food as you did with Bhima . . . Speak up, brute, and reveal the reason for your bravado.’

The vicious prince did not answer. Instead, he laid rough hands on proud Panchali, daughter of Agni, the god of fire. He grabbed her by her glorious hair and forced her through the hallways as she screamed and cursed. He dragged her out of her mansion and into the open, her garment slipping off her shoulder, exposing her to the leering glances of commoners.

Chandika watched still, a low growl emanating from her throat.