Kambhujiya vs Kuvala Shava
In the dark winter night, King Kambhujiya stood still and alone, well away from the main body of his army, trying to peer as far as he could downstream by the light of his flickering torch. He could hardly make out anything much further than a couple of armspans ahead, the cool grey mist floating up from the Ghaghara filling much of the air. In his mind, however, he could clearly see the palace of King Kuvala Shava in Ayodhya, which lay on the left bank of the river, half a yojana away downstream.
He had deliberately chosen this time of the year to strike. He knew the Kosalans did not like the cold so much, but to the Kambhoja the Kosalan winter was more like their autumn, which worked to their advantage. The howl of the northern winds had been growing more and more strident since midnight, portending a sudden sharp cooling of the local weather. If that was to indeed occur, it would suit Kambhujiya's strategy perfectly.
Many among Kambhujiya's forces started to feel drowsy, but by sheer will they forced themselves to stay awake. Some of them started jogging around to warm up, while others stretched their muscles and joints and did some callisthenics. Yet some others talked in whispered tones to their horses, gently stroking their faces and rubbing their necks, to soothe their nerves and calm them down. At dawn Kambhujiya's army moved.
A third of Kambhujiya's fighters, led by Kharvela, a senior commander, rode fast moving longboats, twenty five men to a boat, rowed by oarsmen of the River Tribe, a people with part-Kambhoja ancestry that had immigrated from the Tibetan plateau far upstream a century before. The remainder, led by Kambhujiya himself, went on horse.
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The river contingent had executed their task competently, their sharpshooting bowmen silently taking out the sleepy enemy sentries. Their skirmishers then followed up with spears and javelins. Finally their berserkers took on the outrushing Kosalan soldiers staggering out of their quarters in savage hand to hand combat. Complete chaos and disarray fell upon the Kosalan side.
The Kambhoja warriors were now on the rampage, swarming the grounds of Kosala's royal palace like a massive pack of hungry wolves. Their elite Ashvaka cavalry began pouncing on and cutting down the last remnants of King Kuvala Shava's imperial guards still left standing. Bodies lay sprawling on the earth, here, there and everywhere, like trees smashed down by a tempest. The smell of death, foul, pungent and nauseating, hung in the air.
“No, I have not. Chander Burman took the sword and his beautiful Ashurian bride back to his Kambhoja homeland. Your ancestors invaded Chander Burman’s kingdom during his old age, killed him and his entire family, except his infant grandson whom a loyal maidservant risked her own life to smuggle out to safety, and took the gift sword."
"This is getting audacious now," Kuvala Shava hissed. "Simply amazing. And then what?"
"Some dreamy, opium smoking court purohita of Kosala later made up a tall tale about a flaming sword that came hurtling down to earth from the sky. The story gained pull, with the backing of their king, and became folk legend. But now it’s time for me, Kambhujiya, descendant of Chander Burman and Nin-Harrissi, to have the Sword of Chander Burman back.”
“You still don't get it, do you?” Kambhujiya countered unyieldingly. “My Kambhoja army has thoroughly and decisively vanquished your whole Kosala army in your Kosala territory. By all the rules of war and peace I have now earned the right to your entire kingdom, let alone Daivi Khadga. You don't own anything now. Not even your life. Do you understand?"
Kuvala Shava stared at his foe as he took in the cold reality.
"But I’m a sensible man." Kambhujiya continued. "Better a durable peace than a fragile conquest for me. I shall take Daivi Khadga, my Kambhoja army will leave Kosala after we've agreed terms, and we’ll just let bygones be bygones. For now.”
Such were the sparks of rage that flew between two proud powerful kings of the Himalayas, each of them hereditary sovereign of his own ancestral maha janapada. The rage that, however, yielded eventually to a final peace deal that gave closure to a violent war between the Aryan Kambhoja and the kingdom of Kosala, seat of power of the age old Ikshvaku Dynasty. While Daivi Khadga, that Divine Sword of ancient fame, then became ... the Sword of Kambhujiya.
On Kambhujiya's insistence, the entire River Tribe followed him as he returned to Kambhoja. It was just the right thing to do. They could not have remained where they were after this latest event. The Kosalans would have exacted severe retribution on them for the part played by some of their kinsmen during the Kambhoja invasion of Ayodhya.
As an interim measure, Kambhujiya settled the River Tribe in a riverside village in the suburbs of Dvarka, the capital of Kambhoja kingdom. They would be allowed to resettle anywhere else in his land as soon as they felt ready.
On the fourteenth day of what would be a fierce eighteen day war, a one on one duel without arms between Sudakh Shina and Arjuna turned into a pivotal moment for the war. Towards the end of their fight, Sudakh Shina sprang at his foe and tore into him like a crazed wolf, raining a relentless hail of fists, elbows, knees and feet from left, right and centre on a rapidly weakening Arjuna.
As Sudakh Shina was slowly walking back to his Kambhoja battalion, the famed Daivi Khadga now slung on his broad muscular back, Arjuna loosed a massive arrow from Gandhiva. The arrow that does not miss. It hit Sudakh Shina smack bang in the middle of the back of his neck, shattered his neck bones to pieces and came out again punching its way right through his laryngeal prominence.
Kambhujiya surveyed the scene playing out before him. He had expected a much tougher fight, and his army came well prepared. But the Kosalans seemed to have, in his eyes, crumbled and collapsed, eventually losing their legendary aura of invincible ferocity in battle in the face of a brutal relentless Kambhoja onslaught.
The river contingent had executed their task competently, their sharpshooting bowmen silently taking out the sleepy enemy sentries. Their skirmishers then followed up with spears and javelins. Finally their berserkers took on the outrushing Kosalan soldiers staggering out of their quarters in savage hand to hand combat. Complete chaos and disarray fell upon the Kosalan side.
The Kambhoja warriors were now on the rampage, swarming the grounds of Kosala's royal palace like a massive pack of hungry wolves. Their elite Ashvaka cavalry began pouncing on and cutting down the last remnants of King Kuvala Shava's imperial guards still left standing. Bodies lay sprawling on the earth, here, there and everywhere, like trees smashed down by a tempest. The smell of death, foul, pungent and nauseating, hung in the air.
Several Kambhoja footmen started scouring the area for loot, at the same time finishing off severely injured fighters from either side.
"Kill me," a man groaned. "Please."
Kumara, a Kambhoja captain, turned around in the direction of the voice. It looked like a badly wounded Kosalan. The Kambhoja fighter walked over to the man, his warrior instincts nonetheless keeping himself alert for any trickery.
The Kosalan lay curled up in a small pool of blood, his face a gory mash of drying crimson, his right leg almost severed at the thigh, both his arms shattered beyond hope. Kumara looked into the man's forlorn pain filled eyes, held his head and shoulder like a brother, and said a brief prayer. Then he drove his dagger hard and deep up the man's heart, ending his agony immediately.
"Kill me," a man groaned. "Please."
Kumara, a Kambhoja captain, turned around in the direction of the voice. It looked like a badly wounded Kosalan. The Kambhoja fighter walked over to the man, his warrior instincts nonetheless keeping himself alert for any trickery.
The Kosalan lay curled up in a small pool of blood, his face a gory mash of drying crimson, his right leg almost severed at the thigh, both his arms shattered beyond hope. Kumara looked into the man's forlorn pain filled eyes, held his head and shoulder like a brother, and said a brief prayer. Then he drove his dagger hard and deep up the man's heart, ending his agony immediately.
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"Now I'll have that sword, at last." King Kambhujiya strode powerfully into the vast throne room of his sworn enemy amid the strident blare of horn trumpets from his victorious soldiers, his eyes blazing, his leading generals following closely on his heels. Chandraka and Shakuni, the tallest and biggest among them, flanked him one on each side. Kharvela, meanwhile, stood guard outside, grimly observing the final carnage from afar.
“No you won't!!!” screamed King Kuvala Shava. His army had been bested in its own territory by Kambhujiya's after three days of bloody fighting. “Daivi Khadga has always been a family heirloom of the Ikshvaku dynasty. The royal dynasty of my ancestors which has ruled Kosala for centuries.”
The king of Kosala sat stiffly on his throne. The giant fearsome sword hung proudly on the wall behind him. No man of ordinary strength would be able to wield that enormous blade with much deftness, Kambhujiya thought. He wondered if Kuvala Shava ever did.
Six burly Kosalan imperial guards stood three on each side of their king, looking fiercely protective. But they were now hopelessly outmanned and outarmed, their comrades either fled with the piercing Himalayan winds, lying down wailing and groaning in their last death throes, or perished altogether.
“No you won't!!!” screamed King Kuvala Shava. His army had been bested in its own territory by Kambhujiya's after three days of bloody fighting. “Daivi Khadga has always been a family heirloom of the Ikshvaku dynasty. The royal dynasty of my ancestors which has ruled Kosala for centuries.”
The king of Kosala sat stiffly on his throne. The giant fearsome sword hung proudly on the wall behind him. No man of ordinary strength would be able to wield that enormous blade with much deftness, Kambhujiya thought. He wondered if Kuvala Shava ever did.
Six burly Kosalan imperial guards stood three on each side of their king, looking fiercely protective. But they were now hopelessly outmanned and outarmed, their comrades either fled with the piercing Himalayan winds, lying down wailing and groaning in their last death throes, or perished altogether.
“Lies!!!” Kambhujiya roared back. “That’s all lies! What your people now call Daivi Khadga was the Sword of Chander Burman. It was first given, two hundred years ago, as a token of friendship by Tudhaliya, king of the Khetta people (the Hittites), the earliest masters of ironworking, to his friend and former overlord Sharma-Adad, king of Great Ashuria."
"Great Shiva, please," Kuvala Shava rolled his eyes in dismissive disdain. "Spare me this torment."
"Now ... if you would learn to pay some respect for the truth," Kambhujiya continued, brushing aside his quarry's cynicism. "Chander Burman, my ancestor, had led a select contingent of Himalayan guest warriors from the Kambhoja highlands to Great Ashuria to ..."
"That's at least two hundred yojana in distance!" Kuvala Shava glared. "Through mountains, thick jungle and barren desert. Was he mad? What on earth for? Pray tell me."
"To help Sharma-Adad counter the growing threat of the Madayu, a warlike, horse-riding nomadic people of the Zagros Mountains somewhat similar in lifestyle to the Kambhoja. Chander Burman's Kambhoja was a close ally to Great Ashuria."
"Is that all?"
"Sharma-Adad and Chander Burman became good friends, and Chander Burman eventually married Princess Nin-Harrissi, one of Sharma-Adad's daughters. Daivi Khadga was then given by Sharma-Adad to his new son-in-law Chander Burman as a special wedding present."
“And then the couple lived happily ever after," Kuvala Shava scoffed. "Now it's just incredible. What a fantastic fairytale. You've made all that up.”
"Great Shiva, please," Kuvala Shava rolled his eyes in dismissive disdain. "Spare me this torment."
"That's at least two hundred yojana in distance!" Kuvala Shava glared. "Through mountains, thick jungle and barren desert. Was he mad? What on earth for? Pray tell me."
"To help Sharma-Adad counter the growing threat of the Madayu, a warlike, horse-riding nomadic people of the Zagros Mountains somewhat similar in lifestyle to the Kambhoja. Chander Burman's Kambhoja was a close ally to Great Ashuria."
"Is that all?"
"Sharma-Adad and Chander Burman became good friends, and Chander Burman eventually married Princess Nin-Harrissi, one of Sharma-Adad's daughters. Daivi Khadga was then given by Sharma-Adad to his new son-in-law Chander Burman as a special wedding present."
“And then the couple lived happily ever after," Kuvala Shava scoffed. "Now it's just incredible. What a fantastic fairytale. You've made all that up.”
"This is getting audacious now," Kuvala Shava hissed. "Simply amazing. And then what?"
"Some dreamy, opium smoking court purohita of Kosala later made up a tall tale about a flaming sword that came hurtling down to earth from the sky. The story gained pull, with the backing of their king, and became folk legend. But now it’s time for me, Kambhujiya, descendant of Chander Burman and Nin-Harrissi, to have the Sword of Chander Burman back.”
“What a big, pathetic, bloody load of crap!!” Kuvala Shava retorted. “If that shitty grandfather story of yours isn’t a fable, I don’t know what is."
“I know many big loads of crap, and the biggest among them is that one about a fiery sword descending from the sky!” Kambujiya riposted with a sneer."
"Over my dead body, you nomadic thief. No way will I ever let you lay your dirty barbarian hand on Daivi Khadga for as long as I live!”
“I know many big loads of crap, and the biggest among them is that one about a fiery sword descending from the sky!” Kambujiya riposted with a sneer."
"Over my dead body, you nomadic thief. No way will I ever let you lay your dirty barbarian hand on Daivi Khadga for as long as I live!”
“In the name of Great Diti, glorious Goddess of the Moon, your stupidity is as astounding as your bravery. But if you still insist on staking your life, besides your entire Kosala kingdom and the whole future of your Ikshvaku dynasty for a sword that rightly belongs to another kingdom, well, that’s fine with me!”
“With me too!” Kuvala Shava fired back.
Kuvala Shava stared at his foe as he took in the cold reality.
"But I’m a sensible man." Kambhujiya continued. "Better a durable peace than a fragile conquest for me. I shall take Daivi Khadga, my Kambhoja army will leave Kosala after we've agreed terms, and we’ll just let bygones be bygones. For now.”
Such were the sparks of rage that flew between two proud powerful kings of the Himalayas, each of them hereditary sovereign of his own ancestral maha janapada. The rage that, however, yielded eventually to a final peace deal that gave closure to a violent war between the Aryan Kambhoja and the kingdom of Kosala, seat of power of the age old Ikshvaku Dynasty. While Daivi Khadga, that Divine Sword of ancient fame, then became ... the Sword of Kambhujiya.
As an interim measure, Kambhujiya settled the River Tribe in a riverside village in the suburbs of Dvarka, the capital of Kambhoja kingdom. They would be allowed to resettle anywhere else in his land as soon as they felt ready.
KURU KSHETRA, THE PUNJAB VALLEY: 1200 BC
Sudakh Shina vs Arjuna
The ancient rivalry between the Aryan Kambhoja and the Ikshvaku dynasty of the kingdom of Kosala continued to simmer over the next two centuries after the battle between the armies of Kambhujiya and Kuvala Shava. Glowing incessantly like embers in half-burnt chaff. Now old wounds would flare up again.
The Kuru Kshetra War in the Punjab had pitted related but rival families the Pandava, sons of King Pandu, and the Kaurava, sons of King Kuru. Inadvertently, it had also brought the descendants of Kambhujiya and Kuvala Shava into direct battle against one another.
The Aryan Kambhoja were at first neutral in the inter-necine conflict. It had absolutely nothing to do with them and they were happy enough to stay on the sidelines. However, in the last days preceding the war proper, the Kaurava's nerves began to fray. King Duryodhana of Hastina Pura sent an emissary to approach Sudakh Shina Kambhoja Raja, chief prince and leader of the Aryan Kambhoja, to request for Kambhoja assistance.
No ordinary emissary that was, by the way. It was no less than Jayadratha himself, king of Sauvira (Sindh) and a brother in law of both Duryodhana and Sudakh Shina. For Jayadratha had also married a sister of Sudakh Shina and made her one of his queens, a move intended to secure Kambhoja alliance and friendship for Sauvira. Duryodhana was someone who always knew how to make the best of things.
No ordinary emissary that was, by the way. It was no less than Jayadratha himself, king of Sauvira (Sindh) and a brother in law of both Duryodhana and Sudakh Shina. For Jayadratha had also married a sister of Sudakh Shina and made her one of his queens, a move intended to secure Kambhoja alliance and friendship for Sauvira. Duryodhana was someone who always knew how to make the best of things.
Sudakh Shina found himself in a dilemma, big time. Agreeing to help the Kaurava would mean bringing the perennially simmering Kambhoja-Kosala enmity back to the boil. Ignoring the Kaurava's request would mean violating the age old Kambhoja code of honour, which obliged the helping of a friend in his hour of need.
Eventually, amidst the rising passions of an imminent war, Sudakh Shina acceded to the Kaurava's request. Sudakh Shina assembled a formidable composite army of Kambhoja, Shaka, Yavana, Tushara and Pahlava fighters, he himself leading them as Supreme Commander, to aid his friend King Duryodhana and the Kaurava tribe.
The penultimate strike was a crunching head butt which all but cracked Arjuna’s whole face. The final, finishing blow took the form of a devastating jumping spinning reverse roundhouse kick with the heel to the right side of Arjuna’s head. Arjuna swooned for a brief moment, then collapsed into a heap with not a single sound.
The Kambhoja warriors were by then baying for blood. Shouting their voices hoarse, they called on Sudakh Shina to decapitate Arjuna with the Daivi Khadga that Arjuna had been carrying around for years, and take both Arjuna’s head and the coveted sword back to Kambhoja kingdom as war trophies.
"He's defeated, Lord," one of them shouted.
"He's shamed, slay him!" another demanded.
"He's shamed, slay him!" another demanded.
"No!" Sudakh Shina flatly refused.
Striking a man when he was down was just not his style. It would have gone against everything he believed and held dear about honour, valour and the way of the kshatriya. He only took the sword.
Somehow, to everybody’s surprise, Arjuna recovered rather quickly. He rose slowly, catching his breath, then picked up his giant recurved longbow, the divine Gandhiva. Still he felt absolutely queasy about shooting someone from the back. For some brief moments, he just stood there. Hesitant. Tentative.
His head felt so funny, his mind disordered and disoriented. That massive pounding he had taken from Sudakh Shina had exacted a severe toll on him. And then, he seemed to hear a voice, speaking to him from somewhere, a voice audible only to him.
“Arjuna,” the voice sounded gentle but firm. “I can hear the troubling thoughts taking residence in your mind. Do not let such trivial matters distract you from your mission. Your ultimate dharma is to fight, and to lead your people to victory. In whatever way, by whatever means, and whatever it takes.”
“But,” Arjuna started arguing with the voice. Or was it just himself? “This isn’t ... really ... the way of the warrior.”
“It might not be,” the voice continued, "in normal circumstances. But now, the destiny of an entire people, and that of their progeny, for the next thousand years, is on the line. In this kind of situation, the end takes precedence over the means. In that arrow, in that bow Gandhiva, lies the fate of the Pandava and all their future descendants. You will do what you have to do.”
Time was now of the essence. If the brave Sudakh Shina suddenly turned around and launched another attack, it would certainly be the end for Arjuna. With arms heavy from fatigue after a long, hard fight, and with an even heavier heart, Arjuna nocked his arrow, then drew the string of his bow.
The entire Kambhoja battalion watched aghast. Sudakh Shina fought in vain for air while powerful jets of thick crimson liquid spurted out of his neck in every direction. He turned around to face Arjuna, glared at him for a few moments, broke the arrow in his neck into two halves and threw the pieces at his adversary.
Still struggling hard for air, he managed to say, hoarsely, “We ... shall ... meet ... again,” before finally tumbling forward, hitting the ground heavily with his huge chest. Loud gasps of shock, disbelief and dismay among the Kambhoja warriors followed.
Stricken and distraught with grief and disappointment, the Kambhoja's morale was crushed. With typical Kambhoja valour, Sudakh Shina's younger brother Prapaksha took over the mantle of leadership. Prapaksha fell two days later, to a now revitalised Arjuna. The Kambhoja soon packed up their stuff and left for home. Without the Kambhoja, the war was essentially over. The Pandava had won.
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