The Gall of Gammon

Chapter 27

The Gall of Gammon

Disclaimer: This story is my humble attempt to write a fanfiction of the epic Mahabharata. My intention is not to hurt anyone's sentiment.

Aum Namah Shivay!!

Major Jayant Roy, SM is a fictitious character. Any similarity with any living person is merely a coincidence.

Chapter 27

Mahendra Hills, Dwapar Yuga

Radheya POV

Twelve years had been passed since I left Hastinapur to learn archery. But, in the first few months, I had only found rejection and disappointment. Every single master I approached, all of them refused to teach me the art of archery and warfare.

Why?

Every single one of them said the same thing. A charioteer's son didn't have the right to learn the art of warfare. A sutputra's job was only driving the chariots, not fighting like a Kshatriya.

Those insults and rejection literally drove me insane sometimes. But, only my urge to learn archery kept my mind sane. The more insult I faced, my determination to learn archery started increasing by thousand times.

Then one day, I knew about a Brahmin who lived in the Mahendra Hills. The Brahmin was a fearsome warrior in his youth. He was the one who annihilated the race of Kshatriyas twenty one times from earth.

He was none other than the son of Sage Jamadagni, the one and only Bhargava Parashurama.

But there was a catch!

Only a Brahmin could become a disciple of him!

"Woof!! Grrrr!!"

The loud barking of a dog broke my trance like situation. I opened my eyes, and then looked at my surroundings.

From the last twelve years, I was learning archery and warfare under Sage Parashurama. My guru was a harsh teacher, and extremely difficult to please. But, I was determined, and adamant to please him. I had accepted the severe punishments for even the smallest mistakes. But, one thing I had to admit, to learn from someone like him was like a boon on its own merits.

I stood up, and went to quench my thirst in the pond in front of me. There, I saw my shadow in the water. The eighteen year old boy was gone, and a thirty year old man was there.

I heaved a sigh. I missed my home in Hastinapur. I missed the loving touch of my parents. I missed the taste of food made by my mother Radha. I missed the words of my father.

I missed my friend too.

But could he even remember me after all these years? He was a Rajkumar, who in his childhood, made a friend with me. But, after these twelve years, he probably understood what the meaning of caste and creed was. Now, probably he would behave with me like the other upper caste people.

I heaved a sigh, and took the bunch of firewood on my shoulder. I came under the hills to collect the wood for the night. I climbed the hill, and saw my Guru, lying on a large stone with closed eyes.

I came to him, and sat beside his head. Then slowly, I took his head and placed it in my lap. But suddenly, Gurudev opened his eyes.

"What are you doing?" He asked in a gruff voice.

I crossed my hands.

"Gurudev, you don't have to sleep like that. Please, rest your head on my lap."

Jamdagneya (son of Jamdagni) looked at me.

"I am used to sleep like that."

I pleaded to him, "Gurudev, you are used to sleep like that does not mean you always have to sleep like that."