(P A R T 1)
Into the forest Drona led,
Princes of the palace bred,
To make men and kings of boys,
Archery or fencing - deadly choice!
They setup camps, routines and such,
Dawn to dusk, they slogged much,
"learn, practice, master" spake the Guru,
"To perfect any life skill", 't’was only true!
As the princes sweat, blood and tears,
A tribal boy Eklavya, afar observed,
'This how you build a bow?',
'The string, angle, tension, whoa!'
After sunset he went to his hamlet,
Built a bow of oak branch, animal gut,
Idolized the Guru instructing only him,
“Learn, practice, master” his only hymn!
Over hours-days-weeks-months,
Important craft, the princes learnt ,
Eklavya on his part, persever’d
Ran triple-shifts, hut-life was tough!
Home-made targets, arrows, and some,
Again & a’gain, till he could do it in his REM,
Soon he was the best shot out there,
Better than Arjuna, Drona's protege' !
(P A R T 2 )
Training done, the princes’ graduated,
Skills for the Great War, of the future collected.
“Celebrate!”, the Guru declared,
A royal hunt was soon mounted.
Horses, dogs, marksmen & young blood,
Set out to test, abilities newfound,
The dogs scented a game in the forest,
Chased after it with breaths hot and torrid!
They entered the thickset, raucous and wild,
A marauding party, hot on heels.
Soon silence was all that was heard,
The search party of dogs, dumbfounded returned!
Fed a mouthful of precise arrows,
Waterboarded by a quiverful of sorrows,
Arjuna fascinated, wondered aloud,
“Find me the archer with such bravado!”
Drona formulated thoughts his own,
“Someone really archered this well?,
Not even be a pupil I had taught,
Yes find me him, Such pomp, what show!”
Shortly the royal party arrived,
Reached a large clearing and a sight,
Manned by a tribal boy, fiercely upstanding,
His herd, proudly and fiercely protecting.
“Who are you boy What is your name?”
Thundered Drona in a demanding tone,
You do this to our royal hounds?
With malice and intent or unknowingly?”
“Eklavya at your service sire”,
Bowed the tribal with humility,
No matter his hamlet upbringing,
He knew honor, he knew dignity.
“I tend to my sheep, I protect them like children,
So they can feed me & my tribe, through humdrum.
Your hounds came a barking,
My sheep they were a scaring.
Had no choice but shut them,
Arrows in bulk had to be deployed,
A mechanism of plain defense,
Sire, I make no simple pretense.
Surely you agree O wise one?
Forced as my move, but also just?
You are sage and earned, hence I ask,
Fairness I plead in your judginess task”
( P A R T 3)
“Who taught you to shoot boy?”
Thundered Drona almost accusingly,
Eyes on an idol, yonder a banyan tree,
With a likeness, curiously to he,
“You Gurudev”, offered Eklavya meekly,
“My only teacher, mentor”, he submitted humbly.
Eyes narrowed, Drona shenanigan’d,
His mind raced to protect his illustrious student,
“In which case you will have no objection,
In providing me due compensation.
For helping yourself to unpaid lessons,
When you weren’t exactly my student.”
Eklavya replied , with no hesitation,
“Of course Gurudev. Your will is my command”
Drona had him, where he wanted,
Keeping Arjuna’s status of best archer protected.
“Wonderful then son, so shall it be!
The thumb of your right hand,
Weilding your very arrow dance,
I demand you give now to me.”
The princes gasped, when they heard this,
This cruel and unrelenting, could their Guru be?
Arjuna’s eyes welled up in tears,
He too understood, this cruel decree!
They watched as Eklavya neither slowed nor thought,
Pulled his dagger, to the web of his palm,
Looked his Guru straight in the eye,
Relieved his thumb, like a lotus from its stalk.
The princes returned to live with the thought,
Perhaps Arjuna wasn’t the best of all.
Drona too felt the curse of his ask,
Caused damage to two of his stars.
(Epilogue)
Ek –lavya decapacitated physically,
Parth full of doubts and worry,
The Great War he almost fled,
Until Sarathy pulled him from the brink back , with the Gita-song!
