Pregnant King, The Read Online Free Page A

little irritated at being upstaged by his sister. ‘Culture cannot twist the truth of nature.’
    ‘In nature there is no wife,’ said Ahuka. ‘A man can go to any woman and a woman to any man, provided he has the power or she has the will. So it was in the age before Shvetaketu, who watched his mother go to several men right in front of his eyes. He wanted to know of which seed he was the fruit. She had no answer. So he created laws that fettered women to fathers before marriage, husbands after marriage and sons when they are widows. That is why today you know I am your father and I know you are my son.’
    ‘In nature there is no king, father,’ said Nabhaka. ‘What law binds me to be king after you? Why can I not be a poet, play the flute and make music on the banks of the Saraswati?’
    ‘Making music is for Shudras,’ said Ahuka, disturbed by his son’s question. ‘You must be king because I, your father, am king. All men are bound to their lineage. The sons of Brahmanas must be Brahmanas. The sons of Kshatriyas must be Kshatriyas. The sons of Vaishyas must be Vaishyas. The sons of Shudras must be Shudras. This is the varna-dharma. It ensures continuity of the past with the present. Guarantees predictability. But before you become king, we must find you a wife and she must give you a son. That is ashrama-dharma that all varnas are obliged to follow. It divides life into four quarters. Right now you are in the first quarter, abrahmachari, a student preparing for society. I am in the second quarter, a grihasthi, a householder contributing to society. When your wife gives you a son, I will go into my third quarter, become a vanaprasthi, stay in the hermitage of teachers outside the city and slowly withdraw from society. As soon as you become a grandfather, I will enter the final quarter of my life, become a sanyasi, a hermit, and renounce all things worldly. Varna-ashrama-dharma organizes life in Ila-vrita. It was established by Manu. All Manavas, and that includes you, are bound to it. It makes humans of animals.’
    ‘If my whole life has been decided for me, then why did Prajapati give me a heart? Why did he make me dream? Why does he bring music into my heart?’ His eyes betrayed his anguish. ‘When will I live my own life?’
    Ahuka did not like his son’s whining. ‘After you repay your debts,’ he snapped. ‘That you exist means you are indebted to those who made your existence possible. That you have the fortune of being human, not a plant or animal, means you have another debt. That you are a man, not a woman, is indicative of yet another debt. Just ask your sister how lucky you are. That you are the eldest not the youngest is another debt. That you are my son, the son of a king, not the son of a priest or a potter, also indicates a debt. Debts are all around us. They bind us to the world and to each other, force us to live for others. Break the chain of obligations and you will unravel the fabric of society, my son. Remember, your destiny, whether you accept it or not, is nothing but your own debt, incurred by you consciously or unconsciously, either in this life or yourpast life. You must repay them. That is what being an Arya is all about. It is what dharma is all about. It is the noble thing to do.’
    So many repayments. Repayments to one’s ancestors, to one’s family, one’s caste, one’s village, repayments to the Devas who reside in the sky, to Asuras beneath the earth, to the Apsaras in the rivers, to the Rishis who keep alive the wisdom of the Veda. ‘Will I ever sing the songs of my heart and walk freely by the riverside?’ asked Nabhaka.
    ‘You can always sing in the evening, when the sabha has concluded and you are free to be with your wives,’ said Shilavati softly, placing her hand on her brother’s shoulders.
    ‘And you sister, how will you compromise?’ said Nabhaka, shrugging her hand away, his voice harsh and angry. ‘How will you rule when they force you to become a