PRINCE IN EXILE (27 page)

By way of answer, he looked down at his clenched fists, cursing the star beneath which he had been born. 

She laughed. An unaffected, open-mouthed, heedless laugh. Not unlike the Kaikeyi he had met and loved once. In another time, another place. ‘What a fine dilemma we are faced with then! And how is it to be solved, pray tell?’ 

‘The boons,’ he said too loudly, then lowered his voice before going on, forcing a rein upon his emotions. ‘The boons I granted you. When and how did the event occur? What was the day, where was the place? What were the circumstances?’ 

She stopped laughing, but a trace of a smile lingered still. She was not afraid, he saw. An asura would surely be afraid if it was in danger of being exposed. Even Ravana himself, were the dark lord returned yet again in human garb, would not waste time laughing and talking when he could eliminate his greatest foe in a few quick moments. For that matter, Ravana would have killed him as he slept, naked and defenceless. The doubt grew as she replied confidently and easily. 

‘It was at the same shrine of Vishnu, deep in the Kaikeyavan woods where I had sheltered and nursed you back to health the first time you were struck down in battle. We had fought back the asura forces and retaken the plateau of Kanwa after days of bitter fighting. Your first wounds had somewhat healed but you were too quick to return to battle. And then, on the sixth day, when we began to believe that the tide had turned at last, the Lord of Lanka himself appeared at the head of a great host. And the battle began anew. This time, to the death. For we knew that either we must break their resolve or we ourselves would break upon that resolve.’ 

And a terrible battle it had been, Dasaratha remembered. Filled with more bloodshed and brutality than any he had ever fought before. He remembered himself doing things he would never have dreamed of doing, violating every rule of war in the Arya code. He had set aside his great ancestor Manu Lawmaker’s own rules of morality during warfare, had thrown away all considerations except the burning need for victory. And he had set about orchestrating a massacre like nothing else witnessed before. At the end, he had seen the tide truly turn, a victory within his grasp, and despite the awful price he had paid – by violating his own moral principles as well as by sacrificing so many brave Kshatriya men and women – at that crucial point where every commander sees a battle turn decisively, Ravana had launched a personal attack. 

Dasaratha, he who had been named by his parents for his future prowess in warfare, literally ‘he who rides ten chariots at once’, had been caught in a pincer movement by the demonlord and his two sons, Meghnath and Akshay Kumar, and cut off from the rest of his army by a force of asuras that had crept up from behind specially for this mission. Within moments, their purpose had been crystal clear. Eliminate the leader of the mortals and the mortal armies would lose heart and falter. And their plan had been faultless. That day, for the second time in the same battle and perhaps only the third or fourth time in his entire military career, Dasaratha knew he faced certain death. But he fought on relentlessly, a force of nature as unconquerable as the sun whose effulgent disc he bore upon the armour of his House Suryavansha shield. 

But Ravana had been smarter and more vicious than anyone could have expected. The demonlord violated a basic rule of combat when he cut down Dasaratha’s horses beneath him, then smashed the King of Ayodhya’s chariot to smithereens with mighty blows from the maces and clubs in his twenty arms. Dasaratha still recalled the screams of agony of his magnificent Kambhoja stallions as they were butchered before his startled eyes. He had leaped from his shattered chariot to engage in handto-hand combat with the lord of demons then, challenging him as one commander to another. And that was when the rakshasa king had committed yet another violation of the rules of conduct: he had refused Dasaratha’s challenge and ordered his asura forces to converge en masse on the mortal. 

Dasaratha might still have fought his way out of that impossible situation. The devas knew he had done so before, partly by sheer bravado, partly by his prodigious skill at facing large numbers single-handed. But Ravana’s ingenuity still had more arrows of brilliance in its quiver. The Lord of Lanka also joined the fray, attacking Dasaratha from one side while his forces covered the other three sides. Using a constant series of plunging and withdrawing attacks, in the manner of hyenas or wild dogs attacking a mighty lion by nipping it constantly in the nether parts, the asuras and their commander had inflicted many wounds upon Dasaratha, until he knew that soon he would fall from sheer blood loss if not from a fatal blow. Once he fell, his armies would withdraw, shaken by the loss of the leader whose sheer courage and iron control had held them together thus long. And Kaikeya would fall as well, lost for ever. 

And at that crucial moment, again she had appeared, like an apsara out of Indra’s court, bent on being his salvation and his avenging angel both at once. He saw a flurry in the asura ranks, and then the creatures began flying left and right, cut to bits by a chariot that rolled over them like the celestial juggernaut, Jagganath himself, riding out of Swarga-lok to avenge the destruction of that heavenly realm by the Lord of Lanka. And then Sumantra had appeared in his chariot as well, leading the maharaja’s first Vajra, commanded by Captain Bejoo, attacking in their devastating four-way action, using a combination of elephant brute strength, chariot speed and power, lethally accurate shortbow archers, and armoured cavalry. They had cut a trail wide enough to extract Dasaratha. But it was Kaikeyi herself who reached him first and pulled him aboard her chariot. And it was Kaikeyi who faced the brunt of the Lord of Lanka’s wrath when he saw his prize wrested from under his very nose – or noses. Dasaratha recalled standing shoulder-to-shoulder alongside Kaikeyi as they fought back the demonlord’s crushing blows from the helm of her chariot, Kaikeyi driving her horses forward at the same time. And somehow, miraculously, with the aid of Sumantra’s death-defying loyalty, and Captain Bejoo’s ferociously disciplined Vajra, Dasaratha had left the field for the second time in that conflict. 

And once again he had been unconscious when he was driven away, succumbing to his multitude of wounds. 

This time when he had awoken, in the same serene spot in the Kaikeya-van, the battle as well as the campaign was over. Reinforcements had arrived from Gandahar and Banglar in the nick of time. Ravana’s forces had pulled back, unable to face such large numbers of fresh Kshatriyas. The battle was credited solely to Dasaratha, for Kaikeyi had downplayed her role - with Sumantra and Bejoo’s willing support. And so it was that, having won the last battle of the Last asura War, he had lost his heart to the princess of Kaikeya. And there, in a shrine to Lord Vishnu and Devi Lakshmi in those very woods where she had taken him to safety the first time, Kaikeyi and he had sworn their vows of marriage alone together. And he had sworn two further vows: two boons that he would grant her in exchange for saving his life. No matter what they might be, or what their price. 

‘And I said I did not wish anything from you then apart from my desire to become your queen,’ she said now, watching him with much the same expression that had been on her face that memorable day in the forest. ‘But you insisted that some day, whenever I pleased, I could ask you to honour your vows, and you would grant me those two boons without question or debate.’ 

He looked at her, weighing her words, his life, the years between then and now, the things he had done and said and the things he had meant to do and had never done; the many, many things he had left undone. 

‘Did you not mean those vows then?’ she asked. 

And what could he say? He brushed away the tears rolling down his face, hot salt tracks searing his cheeks. ‘You know I did, Kaikeyi! And honour them I must, as the devas are my witness. But these things you have asked of me, tell me, what good are they to you? How will it serve you to send my Rama into the forest for fourteen years of exile?’ 

She shook her head. ‘Do you think I wish that? Do you think I would ask these things if there were some other way to accomplish this? All I wished was to be a queen, raje. Not the first, second or any other number. Just a queen. Your queen. You did not grant me that wish, because you did not admit to me then that you were already betrothed to another, to Kausalya of Banglar. Had I known that, I might not have given you my heart so readily. Nor bared my body to your needs.’ 

She looked away, her eyes brimming with tears now. And he wondered,
Can asuras cry
? ‘But I bore that lash all these many years. In the certain knowledge that when the time came, you would make my son king.’ 

‘But Rama was born first,’ he cried. ‘He is the eldest. He must be the one to succeed me!’ 

‘Have younger sons not ascended the throne of Ayodhya before?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘Have they not done so in other kingdoms where the oldest were either too feeble or too weak in the arts of war, or simply uninclined to kingship? There are many precedents for it; even the Lawbook of great Manu allows for exceptions. And my Bharat is only younger than Rama by a few days. But above all, heed this, Dasaratha:
There would have been no Rama had I demanded my first boon then and asked that you set aside Kausalya for ever and share only my bed.’ 

‘Would that you had done so,’ he said, burying his face in his hands. ‘Would that you had done so. Then at least I would not have lived to see this day.’ 

She was silent then, waiting for him to go on. When he did not speak again, she said softly, ‘Whether you remember or not, you agreed tonight to grant me these boons. And if you intend to honour them, I demand that you now do so at once.’ She raised a hand and pointed at the door. ‘Summon Rama and tell him that he is exiled. And on the morrow, tell the council of ministers and the preceptor that my son Bharat is to be crowned liege-heir, to rule in your stead when you are gone.’ 

‘What? Now, at this hour?’ 

She smiled sadly. ‘Do you think the burden will grow easier if you wait a day? Or a month? It is decided, these things have been said, now they must be done.’ 

He joined his hands then, pleading beyond all hope. ‘But he has only been wed a day. At least give him time to savour his matrimony. Do not be so cruel, Kaikeyi. Have some care for a boy who was once like your own son.’ 

She said sadly, ‘He is still and ever will be my son. It was you who has cast him out of his marriage bed, his inheritance and his kingdom. You should have accepted a long time ago that what Manu said was always true: a man cannot serve two mistresses, nor two queens wear the same crown. You brought this upon yourself, Dasaratha. This is all your doing, the day you set Kausalya above me and failed your vows to me in that forest shrine. Did you think none saw us or bore witness? The devas saw. Devi herself was my witness. And today they have asked you for their dakshina. One last time, Dasaratha, will you honour your vows or will you dishonour your race for ever?’ 

He fell to his knees, broken then, and cried out in a lost, desolate voice, ‘I cannot say it. You tell him then. Tell him what has been decided and do what you must do. But do not ask me to say the words. That is beyond me.’ 

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes dark and merciless. ‘Have no fear, husband. It has long been the lot of women to do what their husbands fear to do. This is the true reason why men delude themselves that they are braver than women, because the truth would crush their fragile egos. Fear not. I will tell Rama and the council and the guru as well, to remove any last doubts you may have about my identity or my resolve. I will do all that must be done this dark night.’ 

And she strode to the doors and unbarred them. 

TWENTY-TWO 

‘Hurry, maha-dev,’ Kausalya gasped as she strode quickly through the corridors. Alert guards, surprised at seeing such activity at this late hour - or early hour, for it was close to dawn - glanced sharply in their direction as they approached, then snapped their eyes back to the fore as they went past. The serving girls had already begun rousing, their work begun well before the royal family even woke, and several curious heads gaped astonished as they saw the First Queen rushing past, followed by the guru. 

‘This is a most serious claim, rani,’ Vashishta said as they strode along. ‘You are certain that it is not some misconception on the part of these old women?’ 

‘I told you, maha-dev, I saw Kaikeyi with my own eyes, running alongside our elephant. You were already dismounted and in the palace, overseeing the preparations for the welcome ceremony, otherwise you would have seen her yourself.’ 

‘Would that I had,’ he said gruffly. ‘It would have settled much. For when Rani Kaikeyi stepped forward to take my blessing at the rite, I all but wished that she was indeed an asura in disguise.’ 

Kausalya glanced hopefully at the guru’s flowing mane of white hair and beard. ‘But she was not?’ 

‘Entirely mortal, I assure you, good Kausalya. The day an asura is able to approach and touch me without my knowing it is the day I will fling my staff upon a funeral pyre and myself after it.’ 

She didn’t know how to respond to that. As they rounded the corner, approaching a junction between two wings, the delicate small form of Rani Sumitra raced out to join them. 

‘Kausalya,’ Sumitra said breathlessly. ‘Is it true? You have caught the real Kaikeyi, disguised as a serving girl?’ 

‘Not exactly,’ Kausalya said, clasping Sumitra’s hand to help the smaller woman keep pace. ‘It’s complicated. But I think I have got hold of the same serving girl you spoke of. If you recognise her as the one you saw in the secret chamber, then we have a direct link to Manthara’s witchery. And a witness to all those unholy doings.’