Sanātana Kapila Vāsudeva - A Mahābhārata-Rāmāyaṇa Time Travel Crossover

9 months ago

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Sanātana Kapila Vāsudeva

A Mahābhārata-Rāmāyaṇa Time Travel Crossover

Leaving their ancestral kingdom of Puṇḍra behind them forever, Kapila Vāsudeva and his mother Narācī had been travelling west for several days when they reached the place where five hills dominated the landscape. This was Girivraja, Jarāsaṃdha's capital.

Pointing to a square-shaped hill, the first along their chariot's path, from where they could hear the inviting babble of springwater, Narācī told Kapila, "This hill is Ṛṣigiri. The sages who dwell here could plead with Jarāsaṃdha to support us."

Over to the north, they could see a temple atop a circular hill with cattle grazing on its slopes. "That hill is Vṛṣabha," Narācī explained. "In that temple, they beat the three bherī-drums with beanstalk-woven frames to summon the three akṣauhiṇīs that once belonged to Bṛhadratha. We can rescue Sutanu from Mathurā if those armies march under the leadership of Jarāsaṃdha, Haṃsa, and Ḍibhaka!"

As they turned to the south, a triangular hill covered with saptaparṇa trees came into view. "That is Vaibhāra, where māgadha poets and courtesans celebrate the Giryagrasaṃvrajyā festival," Narācī noted. "Turn north before you get to that hill, and we'll enter the capital city."

A fourth hill, crescent-shaped like a strung bow, marked the western and northern limits of Jarāsaṃdha's prosperous Rājagṛha. Narācī observed the vultures circling in the sky above that hill, and declared, "That is Varāha, where solitary saints dwell in the caves, with only golāṅgūla monkeys for visitors."

"What about that cave, Mātaḥ?" Kapila inquired, pointing up the slope of the highest hill, triangular in shape, which loomed to the south-west. "Does anyone dwell there?"

"On Vipula? I don't know," Narācī admitted. "That hill divides the kingdoms of Magadha and Cedi. We could ask about it when we reach Jarāsaṃdha's court."

Kapila turned the chariot towards Vipula, and the horses obediently carried them up the slope as far as was possible.

"We need to head north to Rājagṛha, Putra!" Narācī objected. "What use is that cave to us?"

"I have to find out, Mātaḥ!" Kapila replied. "I don't know why, but I feel that someone is calling to me from that cave."

"Bāḍhaṃ, Putra! Whether it is your dharma calling, or Dharmarāja Yama, I won't let you go alone!" Narācī muttered.

Dismounting from the chariot, Kapila unyoked the horses, leading them to a shady, grassy spot where he tied them to a tree. Then he climbed the rest of the hill quickly, followed by Narācī.

Pausing just inside the entrance to the cave, they allowed their eyes to adjust to the darkness. The cave seemed empty, except for one irregular-shaped object lying inside.

As Kapila felt his way along the cave wall, Narācī suddenly pulled him back. "Look! That's a human body! I see an arm sticking out, palm upward. Who knows which poor traveller took shelter here and was killed by robbers? Let's not stay here any longer."

Kapila put his arm around his mother to comfort her. Narācī was shivering with fear. Yet through the sound of her rapid breaths, Kapila heard other breathing, deep and regular.

"This person isn't dead, only sleeping, Mātaḥ!" Kapila reassured Narācī. "Who could it be, sleeping during the day like this?"

Narācī nudged Kapila to move ahead. Guided by the cave wall, he reached the sleeping figure and felt its shoulders and head. The soft strands of a long beard made him aware that the person was a man. The fibres that stuck to his fingers indicated that the man's headdress was a nobleman's silken uṣṇīṣa, not a servant's flaxen veṣṭana.

"Should we carry this person to a bhiṣak for treatment?" Narācī suggested, as the man was not responding to Kapila's touch.

Kapila lifted the man onto his shoulder and Narācī led him out of the cave. As they blinked against the sunlight, they became aware that the man's fingernails and toenails were extremely overgrown. How long had he been lost to sleep in the cave?

"Where are you taking me?" the man demanded, waking up as the sun warmed his skin.

"To a bhiṣak, if we can find one," Narācī answered, as Kapila lowered the man from his shoulder until he could stand on his own feet. "We are travellers from Puṇḍra. We just arrived in Magadha today. Tell us, who are you and where are your people?"

"Puṇḍra ... Magadha ... are these country-names? What sort of countries are unknown to the King of Ayodhyā?" the old man wondered, as he took a few steps with Kapila's support.

Narācī and Kapila took a good look at him. He was an old man, and obviously in need of grooming, but his clothes were all of silk and he was wearing golden ornaments fit for a king. His language was very strange, quite different from the sort of Saṃskṛta spoken by visitors from Ayodhyā to Puṇḍra, and yet every consonant was enunciated, unlike the vernacular slurring of a commoner's Prākṛta dialect. How could anyone who had the benefit of education not recognize the name of the Magadha kingdom, grown powerful under Bārhadratha rule? Even Puṇḍra was widely known as the eastern frontier between civilization and the Kirāta tribes. This man's ignorance was remarkable.

"Dīrghaprajña is King of Ayodhyā," Kapila stated, as they began to descend the slope. "He has received delegations from both Puṇḍra and Magadha. Who are you to him?"

"No, my son Dṛḍhāśva is King of Ayodhyā, now that I have abdicated," the old man insisted. "I am Kuvalāśva, son of Bṛhadaśva."

"You say, you are Dhundhumāra of ancient legend?" Narācī wanted to be sure she had heard correctly.

"Yes! I am famous for slaying Dhundhu many years ago, in my middle age, just after I became King," the old man said excitedly. He continued without pause, as if he had made this speech many times before. "Who else can boast that he dug up an ocean of sand like the Ujjānaka desert until it stopped erupting steam? Everyone celebrates my victory, but does anyone share the guilt that I feel for leading thousands of warriors to their deaths? I watched as Dhundhu's fiery breath scorched them, and as the flood of hot water from his magic drowned them. If I had slain Dhundhu a few moments sooner, those boys would have been safe. They were like sons to me, and they sacrificed their lives while my own three sons survived."

"You did your duty as King to protect the people who have to travel across Ujjānaka," Kapila pointed out kindly, feeling sorry for the old man who really thought he was Dhundhumāra from ancient history, dozens of generations ago. "You fulfilled the purpose of your life."

"What does one do with the rest of a life already fulfilled?" Dhundhumāra inquired, leaning against a twisted tree to catch his breath. "I tried to find out by performing satra after satra, listening to hundreds of stories as each yajña session went on, day after day, concluding after twelve years only to begin again. I grew old giving dakṣiṇās of thousands of cows to brāhmaṇas, providing for their sustenance as they taught whatever subjects they knew. Finally, the Devas appeared in person at my yajña. They told me to ask for anything I desired, and they would be pleased to grant it to me. They said that I deserved to rule the entire earth upto the oceans on three sides and the snowy mountains to the north."

"So, you became Cakravartin!" Kapila exclaimed. He knew very well that the historical Dhundhumāra had never expanded his ancestral kingdom, but what was the harm in allowing an old man to feel grand?

"No, I didn't," Dhundhumāra corrected him. "I said to the Devas, only grant me freedom from my guilt. If I can't be purified of it, at least let me be unaware of it. Let me sleep in peace."

"He isn't mad; whatever he says is reasonable!" Narācī whispered to Kapila. "Has he really been asleep for centuries in this cave? Is he Dhundhumāra himself?"

"The Devas granted my wish," Dhundhumāra resumed, as they made their way to the chariot. "Slipping away from Dṛḍhāśva and everyone who knew me, I came here to Girivraja to hide myself in a cave and sleep. Perhaps it has been many days, or even months. My family could tell you; I cannot. That's my story. Now, tell me, who are you, and where in the world do people speak Saṃskṛta as strangely as you do?"

"I belong to the dynasty of Puṇḍra, whom Dīrghatamas begot in Bali's field with Sudeṣṇā," Narācī began. "My name is Narācī. I am married to Vasudeva, son of Śūra of the Vṛṣṇi family in Mathurā. This is my son, Kapila Vāsudeva. We have come to Girivraja to ask its king, Jarāsaṃdha, to force the Vṛṣṇis to fulfil our demand."

"Has your husband denied your son his kingdom?" Kuvalāśva guessed. "Is he favouring another wife's son?"

Narācī sighed. "My husband Vasudeva is not a king; he is only a cowboy of King Ugrasena of Mathurā. My father's kingdom of Puṇḍra was meant for my son Kapila Vāsudeva. Instead, Kapila and I have designated Cekitāna Vāsudeva, the son of Ugrasena's daughter Sutanu, for the title of Pauṇḍraka, King of Puṇḍra. What I want from the Vṛṣṇis is Sutanu."

"That is all very strange," Kuvalāśva commented, as Kapila helped him into the chariot. "You and your son have surrendered a kingdom to your sapatnī's son, and yet you wish to capture your sapatnī."

Narācī bit her lip. Surely the response would be the same from Jarāsaṃdha and from anyone else whom she would tell that Cekitāna was not her son but Sutanu's. Two women who bore children to the same man would always be regarded as rivals. Who would believe that it was dharma to give her own son's birthright to Sutanu's son, or to seize Sutanu from her husband?

"We want Sutanu to assume her rightful position as Rājamātṛ of Puṇḍra," Kapila explained, holding Narācī's hand as she climbed into the chariot. "Sutanu was Narācī's sakhī before they ever met Vasudeva, and my two mothers love each other so much that everyone believes Cekitāna to be Narācī's son, my sahodara brother, and not Sutanu's son, my dvaimātṛka brother."

Kuvalāśva's curiosity was even greater now. "Will Sutanu's father Ugrasena not willingly send his daughter and her husband to their son's kingdom? Why do you need force to convince the Vṛṣṇi family?"

"Vasudeva isn't Sutanu's husband," Narācī admitted. "Sutanu is married to Akrūra of the Vṛṣṇi family. She has children by him too."

"Tell me your story from the beginning," Kuvalāśva suggested, as Kapila started the horses down the slope. "I want to know all of it."

"My story begins here, in Girivraja," Narācī told him. "Many years ago, Jarāsaṃdha's two daughters, Asti and Prāpti, chose to marry Ugrasena's sons, Kaṃsa and Sunāman. Jarāsaṃdha invited all of his allies to the wedding, including my father. My father had designated me his putrikā; my children would be his heirs. So, he brought me here to make political acquaintances. When Ugrasena with his sons and daughters arrived in Rājagṛha, I met Sutanu and we became inseparable."

Narācī smiled as she remembered her understanding father, and continued. "My father noticed my attachment to Sutanu. He convinced Ugrasena to let us take Sutanu and her dhātrī to Puṇḍra. There, we were very happy until one day, my father told me it was time to choose a husband and bear children for our lineage. I thought that if my children were fathered by a king, he would try to annex Puṇḍra to his kingdom. I asked Sutanu what I should do, and she told me about Vasudeva. After his triumph at her cousin Devakī's svayaṃvara, Vasudeva had begotten only one child with Devakī before returning to his first wife, Rohiṇī."

"You heard that about Vasudeva, and still you married him. Did you not want a husband who would stay with you?" Kuvalāśva wondered.

"I didn't feel any urge to live with a husband. I was a girl then, just taking my first steps into youth. I only knew that I was expected to bear my husband's children," Narācī said honestly. "When Sutanu told me that Devakī had advised two of her younger sisters, Śāntidevā and Sudevā, to marry Vasudeva so that all of them could stay together and raise their children together, I thought, that is what I want my marriage to be. It should be a bond of love between women."

"Sutanu had become like a sister to you," Kuvalāśva inferred.

"No." Narācī was determined to tell the truth about her life to the whole world, starting with this ancient Dhundhumāra. "I was too young to know how to describe what I felt for Sutanu, but I knew that it wasn't sisterhood. Sisters didn't feel the thrill that my limbs felt whenever Sutanu walked into sight, or the jealousy that I felt whenever one of my attendant courtesans talked to Sutanu. When Sutanu told me that Vasudeva was the handsomest of men, I thought that I could fulfil my duty to bear children by engaging in maithuna with such a man, and so I chose to marry Vasudeva. My father sent a messenger to Ugrasena, and Vasudeva arrived in Puṇḍra for our wedding. Sutanu had told the truth; I saw that Vasudeva was indeed as handsome as a woman could desire, and yet I did not want maithuna with him. I did not want it with any man. When the wedding ceremony was completed and it was time for Vasudeva to approach me, I cried inconsolably, and Sutanu held me as I clung to her. I told Sutanu that I wanted her never to go back to her family, only to stay with me for many years more."

Kuvalāśva understood. "Your love for Sutanu was the love between wife and husband. Did she reciprocate?"

"Sutanu told me that she wanted to stay with me always," Narācī said, "but if my people found out that she was the reason I was refusing my husband and depriving the kingdom of an heir, my people would complain to the brāhmaṇas and I would have to banish her."

"A kṣatriyā should never neglect her dharma," Kuvalāśva agreed, "and your dharma was to be a putrikā for the King, your father."

"Sutanu tried to persuade me to submit to maithuna with Vasudeva long enough to give birth to an heir, after which Vasudeva would surely return to Rohiṇī," Narācī continued. "When I still told her no, she said that if we kept Vasudeva waiting, his attendants would talk about me. She would show me that I had nothing to fear."

"Sutanu took your place with Vasudeva," Kuvalāśva guessed.

"Yes; she told him that I was shy, and she was a courtesan who would serve him until I was ready," Narācī affirmed. "When she returned to me, Sutanu reassured me that maithuna could be pleasurable for a woman even when she loved someone else. Many nights went by with our arrangement before Vasudeva one day saw Sutanu by daylight and recognized that his visitor was no courtesan but an unmarried princess of Mathurā. Vasudeva was ready to marry Sutanu and add her to the company of Devakī and her sisters, but Sutanu pleaded with Vasudeva that she wanted to remain with me."

"Your husband found out that you would not be a faithful wife. Did he confront your father?" Kuvalāśva asked, as Kapila turned the horses north towards Rājagṛha.

"Vasudeva knew that I liked him as a friend, because we had spent our days together like any newly married couple. Now, knowing why I had not come to him at night, he asked me what I wanted from him. I said that I was ready to bear his child and then send him home to his other wives, because I loved Sutanu. Vasudeva agreed to fulfil the purpose of our marriage. I had grown tired of Sutanu's intimacy with Vasudeva, and I told her not to go to Vasudeva anymore. The three of us agreed not to tell my father or anyone about what Sutanu had done for me. However, Sutanu was already pregnant. She was unmarried, so we hid her pregnancy, of course, and when her kānīna son Cekitāna was born, I claimed that I had given birth to him. I actually felt as if Sutanu and I shared a child. My father saw how happy I was, and he suggested that I should keep Vasudeva with me for another child. Sutanu also wanted a child borne by me to complete our family. A few months later, I conceived from Vasudeva, and Kapila was born. Then Vasudeva returned to Mathurā, and Sutanu and I lived happily for a few years, raising our two children. However, Sutanu had to return to Mathurā when her elders promised her in marriage to Akrūra."

"It is adharma for a kṣatriya to consort with a woman who says she loves someone else," Kuvalāśva opined. "How did Vasudeva agree to beget your child? How did he tolerate your relationship with Sutanu? Even a putrikā, whose father claims her children as praṇīta because the marriage is Prājāpatya, is not free to take a lover, male or female, and stain her husband's reputation. Furthermore, the man who begets a child from an unmarried svairiṇī has an obligation to claim the child; otherwise, the kānīna child belongs by dharma to the woman's future husband as his heir and piṇḍa-offerer. Shame on Vasudeva, who contrived his own son Cekitāna into a kṛtrima son of your father, unfit to inherit, and deprived Akrūra of his rightful heir!"

"What I did and what Vasudeva did may be adharma for you, but it was dharma for us," Narācī replied. "Dīrghatamas, who begot my ancestor Puṇḍra, followed godharma, the dharma of cows, and godharma is natural for a cowboy like Vasudeva. Vasudeva understood that I am like those cows who approach other cows the way bulls do. Vasudeva is like a bull, happy to spend time with any willing cow, undisturbed by who loves whom or who raises his child. Cows have no customs of marriage or inheritance; cows make no promises; and yet cows support the world."

"The world wasn't like this when I went to sleep. Kingdoms called Puṇḍra, Magadha, and Mathurā ... a teacher named Dīrghatamas and his religion called godharma ... I don't recognize any of it," Kuvalāśva muttered. "Yet you know who I am. Tell me, how did this King Dīrghaprajña get Ayodhyā from my son Dṛḍhāśva?"

"Dṛḍhāśva coronated his son Haryaśva and retired to the forest," Narācī began, and watched the tears welling up in Kuvalāśva's eyes.

"My son has followed our family tradition and chosen vānaprastha!" Kuvalāśva sighed. "I should have awakened before I lost my turn. My grandson Haryaśva was a young man when I went to sleep. Where is he now?"

"Haryaśva was slain by the Hehayas in battle," Narācī informed him, and Kuvalāśva reeled within the chariot with the impact of her words. "His son Nikumbha fought to defend Ayodhyā against them, but Nikumbha's son Saṃhatāśva and grandsons, Akṛśāśva and Kṛśāśva, were all slain in battle. Nikumbha sent a messenger to Vārāṇasī, seeking help from King Divodāsa, whom Haryaśva had considered his grandson when he protected Divodāsa's father Sudeva from the Hehayas, but Divodāsa refused to lead his army out of Vārāṇasī. So, when Nikumbha went to his death in battle, he laid a curse on Vārāṇasī to be uninhabited for many years. The only survivor of your family was Saṃhatāśva's daughter Dṛṣadvatī, who escaped to the snowy mountains."

"I slept for years, and my patriline became nāma-śeṣa!" Kuvalāśva exclaimed. "Does the girl at least have progeny?"

"Yes, your family could have continued through her," Narācī replied. "Nikumbha had designated Dṛṣadvatī as his putrikā, and four kings were born to her, out of whom Prasenajit ruled in Ayodhyā. However, Prasenajit doubted the chastity of his faithful wife Gaurī, and rejected her son Yuvanāśva. So, Yuvanāśva is remembered as the son of Sudyumna, not Prasenajit, and Sudyumna has attained the ultimate achievement of everlasting progeny in the world, like Dakṣa Prācetasa. Māndhātṛ, the son of Yuvanāśva, became a Cakravartin. That was many centuries ago."

"Stop the chariot!" Kuvalāśva said to Kapila. "I don't need a bhiṣak. I don't need anything in this world. When I have no legal descendants to sustain my afterlife with a piṇḍa, it is best to sit in prāya to end my life."

The famous Dhundhumāra descended from the chariot and sat on the ground, awaiting his death.

"We can't just leave him here, Mātaḥ," Kapila said to Narācī. "Isn't there anything that we can do for him?"

"If I have honestly performed my dharma to sustain my Ancestors with progeny to offer them śrāddha," Narācī prayed, "may my Ancestors show me the way to save Dhundhumāra from undeserved hellish afterlife in Put."

Even as Narācī spoke these words, a woman whose body resembled moisture-saturated rays of sunlight descended from the heavens and stood before them.

"Your faithful svadhā offerings of kavya into the Anvāhārya fire throughout your life have nourished your kṣatriya Ancestors in the Ekaśṛṅga heavens, Narācī," the woman declared. "Those worlds are maintained by the divine Marīcigarbhas, who have heard your prayer and agreed that it would be an injustice to deprive Dhundhumāra of the heavenly afterlife that he would have enjoyed if he had not slept for so long."

"Are you Yaśodā?" Kapila asked the divine woman. "Are you the daughter created by the minds of the Marīcigarbhas? Are you the mother of Dilīpa Ailavila, the famous king whose yajñas were attended by the Devas in person, with six thousand Gandharvas dancing in seven styles and Viśvāvasu himself playing the vīṇā, so that onlookers had the experience of heaven on earth?"

"I am Viśvamahat's wife; I am Vṛddhaśarman's daughter-in-law; I am Dilīpa's mother; I am that same Yaśodā," the woman replied. "My divine fathers, the Marīcigarbhas, send me into the mortal world to support kṣatriyas who nourish them faithfully. I have the power to go back in time before pregnant Gaurī, unjustly rejected by Prasenajit, transformed herself into the river Bāhudā by the power of her honesty and delivered her son Yuvanāśva for adoption by Sudyumna. I will exhort Prasenajit to honour Gaurī so that Yuvanāśva, Māndhātṛ, and that entire dynasty will be legal descendants of Kuvalāśva."

"So be it," said Narācī and Kapila. "We will guard Kuvalāśva until you return, so that he will not pass into the afterlife without a piṇḍa."

Due to the misty radiance of Yaśodā's body, they had not noticed a chariot approaching them from the road that stretched past Vipula to the south-west. The rider in that chariot now called out to them.

"Narācī! I am Krātha of Supārśva. For what purpose have you returned to Girivraja? Who is this old man sitting in prāya, and who is this divine woman?"

Meanwhile, Yaśodā was applying her ability to communicate with the universe in Parā Vāk, speech at its subtlest and most powerful level, transcending language and syntax, to pronounce her saṃkalpa, the idea that would take her back in time to Gaurī. "Ikṣvāku-dynasty-river-immersed-wife..."

"Aṃśumat!" Narācī exclaimed, recognizing her old friend.

"Aṃśumat!" The name intruded upon Yaśodā's consciousness just when she should have ideated Prasenajit. Disturbed, she stumbled onto Kapila, and instantly, both of them travelled back in time, leaving Narācī and Aṃśumat Krātha staring at the empty place where they had stood.

"The infant's drowning!" Kapila heard a man shouting in an unfamiliar dialect of Saṃskṛta, just as he felt cool water flowing past his body. Was he hearing the voice of Sudyumna? Was he witnessing the legendary birth of Yuvanāśva to the river Bāhudā?

"Unfortunately, no," Yaśodā answered his unspoken thoughts. "We did not travel far enough into the past. This is not the time of Gaurī and Prasenajit. This river is not Bāhudā; she is Sarayū, and this man who is shouting for help is Pañcajana, the eldest son of King Sagara of Ayodhyā. When my misformed saṃkalpa brought us to this juncture, our collision with Pañcajana caused him to drop the infant girl whom he was purifying in Sarayū at the request of her noble family. The girl who would have grown up to marry Pañcajana's only son, Aṃśumat Pāñcajanya, and give birth to Dilīpa Khaṭvāṅga, has drowned. The dynasty that would have sustained Dhundhumāra's heavenly afterlife has come to an end."

"Our effort to reestablish Dhundhumāra's dynasty uprooted it instead!" Kapila exclaimed in dismay.

"I must replace the dead girl," Yaśodā mused. "When Aṃśumat grows up, I will be his wife; I will be the daughter-in-law of Pañcajana; I will be the mother of Dilīpa Khaṭvāṅga, just as I am the mother of Dilīpa Ailavila many centuries later."

"You mean, you will travel ahead in time by several years, and ensure the birth of Dilīpa Khaṭvāṅga so that history remains the same with the Ikṣvāku kings who succeeded him, before you go back to the time when Yuvanāśva was born and reestablish the dynasty of Kuvalāśva," Kapila understood. "What will happen to me, meanwhile?"

"You have travelled back in time before you were born, and thus you have become sanātana, permanent," Yaśodā explained. "Your actions in the past can affect the course of history. Even your thoughts can suddenly become reality through the power of Parā Vāk. Entities around you, both animate and inanimate, can be moved or destroyed by your thoughts. Even if you return to the time from which you came, this power will remain with you."

Kapila felt worried. "This power is extremely dangerous. Rather than harming innocent creatures, I should desist from all actions and all thoughts. I want to bury myself deep within the earth and remain in samādhi so that I can never harm anyone."

Kapila's idea took effect immediately. He found himself buried in Rasātala, far below the earth's surface, where four gigantic elephants bear the burden of the world and the great bird Suparṇa flies alone. Kapila immersed himself in peaceful meditation, but he had never practised samādhi before, and so thoughts occurred to him from time to time.

Where was his mother Narācī? Kapila perceived that Aṃśumat Krātha had escorted Narācī to Jarāsaṃdha, Haṃsa, and Ḍibhaka, and they had welcomed her idea that when their armies marched against Mathurā to avenge the widowhood of Asti and Prāpti, they should demand the surrender of Sutanu and her children. That would humiliate Akrūra, who had thought that his marriage to Sutanu would make him Ugrasena's heir after the slaying of Kaṃsa and Sunāman.

Would Kapila's other mother Sutanu welcome this demand, or was she happy with Akrūra, raising their children among her own people? Kapila foresaw Sutanu's disappointment when Kṛṣṇa Vāsudeva's strategy to dodge a conflict would prompt Jarāsaṃdha to retreat from the bank of Yamunā, before he and his armies ever reached Mathurā. Kṛṣṇa's false report that the hero Haṃsa had been slain would prove itself true because Ḍibhaka, unwilling to live without the man he loved, would drown himself in Yamunā, followed by equally faithful Haṃsa. Neither Jarāsaṃdha's military might nor vengeance for his daughters would inspire him to march on Mathurā without his best friends at his side. Feeling his samādhi disturbed by his mothers' turmoil, Kapila wondered if Narācī's courage to tell the world about her love for Sutanu would be forgotten as easily as the love that disappeared with Ḍibhaka and Haṃsa below the dark water of Yamunā.

And Vasudeva? Did the man who had married Narācī understand her reason for supporting Jarāsaṃdha against Kṛṣṇa? Did he want Sutanu to be happy? Kapila, who had no memory of the man who had begotten him, now gazed across time at the remarkable events of Vasudeva's life. Like the rest of the Mādhavas, Vasudeva would flee from their ancestral Mathurā merely because it was rumoured that Kaṃsa's widow was urging Jarāsaṃdha to march against them a second time. Ousting Vasudeva's own svasrīya, Ekalavya the Niṣāda king, from the coastal territory of Dvāravatī, they would gradually grow so powerful that Kṛṣṇa would lead an Aśvamedha expedition of conquest in Vasudeva's name, while Vasudeva himself was content to play his duṃdubhi in the company of his wives, children, and grandchildren. On that expedition, one night near Prāgjyotiṣa, with the whole camp distracted by Vasudeva's drumming, Sutanu would escape with her children and head southeast to reunite with Narācī in Girivraja.

He could have been the one to plan Sutanu's escape, Kapila realized. Exiled from his grandfather's kingdom, it would have been natural to ally himself with his father and the Vṛṣṇis, and to accompany Vasudeva's horse as a guard. It could have been Kapila Vāsudeva, alongside Kṛṣṇa Vāsudeva, who battled the Gandhāra, Yavana, and Cedi kings when they captured the horse, and who set the horse free again. After Kṛṣṇa kidnapped the Sauvīra princess as a new wife for Akrūra, Kapila could have consoled Sutanu with the promise of their family in Puṇḍra.

What if the white stallion would choose to wander into Puṇḍra? By dharma, Cekitāna would capture him, and Kapila would have to fight against his own brother. In Rasātala, the whole earth belonged to him, and yet it did not feel glorious like a conquest in battle. Kapila recalled the legend of Mucukunda, who had refused the entire earth offered to him by Vaiśravaṇa, and had gone on to conquer it himself, honourably. Kapila too could have earned glory as a kṣatriya if he had not explored the cave, disrupted Dhundhumāra's sleep, and allowed Yaśodā to bring him into this sanātana state.

As these thoughts arose and subsided, Kapila's troubled samādhi was rudely disrupted by the shouts of sixty thousand angry kṣatriyas.

"Wait! Wait! Only you stole our horse of yajña. Evil-planner! You just know that we’re Sagara’s sons who reached you!”

Kapila snorted furiously without even opening his eyes. Instantly, all of Sagara's sons except four - Barhaketu, Suketu, Bārhadratha, and Pañcajana - were reduced to piles of ashes.

Unnoticed by Kapila as he returned to samādhi, the survivors caught the white stallion that Kapila never knew his thoughts had captured, and led him home.

This story was an entry in the Plotholes & Prompts fan fiction writing event in the Saṃskṛta Text Discussion private forum.