Prince of Dharma (102 page)

‘But I have a pertinent question for Guru Vashishta. Gurudev, how can we expect Mithila to hold out for those four crucial days? Everything would depend on that. If they fell even a day too soon, all would be lost. For the plan to work successfully, it is imperative that Mithila must make a stand like no other stand in Arya history. It would be like pitting an ant-hill against a herd of elephants.’ 

The guru nodded. 

‘Well spoken, mantriji. But I believe these ants of Mithila might just be able to keep the elephants at bay long enough to save the ant-hill from destruction.’ 

Jabali looked confused. His expression was mirrored on the faces of the other council ministers. Only Sumantra watched the guru’s face earnestly. He had spent enough time with the sage to know when he was speaking of matters that were beyond mortal ken. 

Guru Vashishta looked around at the anxious and curious ministers. ‘Ants can sting,’ he said. ‘And when enough ants work together, their sting can be enough to bring down even an elephant. I think Mithila might just be able to produce one giant surprise.’

NINE 

For one long, stunned moment, the entire company was silent. The sounds of the river valley seemed to grow louder to fill the sudden vacuum: leaves whispering in the wind, the gurgling of the rivulet, horses nickering softly, bigfoot pawing the shale and noisily eating the grass and fruits collected by their mahouts. The scents of wildwood and honey, roses and thyme, neem and chandanwood filled the air. The pungent but not unpleasant animal odours of horse and elephant mingled with the strong perfume of nightqueen blossom, reminding Sita of the compound behind the princess gardens where she had learned to ride as a little girl. Its wall separated that end of the princess’s palace from the stables, and the bougainvillea creeper overhanging that wall was interwoven with the branches of a nightqueen blossom tree, its strong scent mingling with the aroma of horses. 

But this she noticed only in an abstract, subconscious way, just as her ears took in the natural, animal and human sounds around her without her mind fully registering the meaning of those sounds. Right now, the only sound Sita could hear was the deafening thudding of her own heart. The only scent in her nostrils was the scent of her own fear. When the veil was removed by the brahmarishi’s sorcery, she felt bare, vulnerable. She wanted to pick it up and cover herself at once. To scream out loud and run away from these gawking, gaping people. To sink into the earth and be embraced by the all-encompassing arms of Prithvi Maa, the form in which the Mother Goddess Sri presided over the world, and Sita’s own patron deity. 

She was exposed. Unmasked. Humiliated. It was bad enough to have her identity revealed, it was unbearable to have it done thus, so publicly. She could feel every pair of eyes as keenly as if they were two-tined pitchforks goring her flesh. Most of all, she could see Rama, standing closest to her, staring at her with an expression that was all the more shocking because it wasn’t displaying shock or horror or disbelief, like the other faces around her. Rama was smiling. As if his jest-prone brother Lakshman had just voiced another of his silly, grossly unfunny jokes. 

‘It isn’t funny,’ she snapped at him. ‘This isn’t a joke for your pleasure.’ 

Rama’s smile remained unchanged. His dark pupils gleamed, twin campfires reflected in them. Wind ruffled his dark locks gently. He continued to smile at Sita. 

She turned her attention to the gawking crowd of Brahmins who had drifted upriver to watch the unfolding drama. They were staring at her in stunned amazement. 

‘And the rest of you, if you want entertainment, go find the nearest tavern or dance hall! This isn’t a free show provided for your amusement!’ 

Several of the more senior rishis exclaimed, offended by her tone as well as her words. To tell a Brahmin to go to a wine hall or dance performance was akin to asking him to deny his faith. Perhaps there were a few dissolute Brahmins somewhere in the world who did indulge in such fleshly pleasures clandestinely, but these were Siddh-ashrama hermits not city pundits! As she had expected, the sharpness of her words did the trick. In moments, most of the Brahmins had moved away, returning to their evening chores. Only a few brahmacharya acolytes continued to steal guilty glances at the two women. 

Sita flashed her angry eyes at the Vajra captain next. Bejoo was literally gaping at her, his lips parted as he stared at the two women. More specifically, he was staring at the taller of the pair. He seemed to be physically unable to take his eyes off Nakhudi. 

‘And if you don’t order your men to move away and sheathe their weapons, you’ll see a bloodier fight than that little encounter with the bandits!’ 

Bejoo blinked. He rasped shortly: ‘Vajra. Stand down.’ 

The Vajra soldiers retreated, still staring curiously at the women in black. Nakhudi made one final menacing gesture with her curved sword before sheathing it expertly in its waist harness without even a downward glance. Sita saw Bejoo’s eyes flick down, following the sword’s descent, then return at once to the bodyguard’s face. He looked like a man who had just offered a flower gift to a deity then raised his eyes to gaze upon the deity’s visage. 

‘And you can put your eyes back in your head, Captain. She won’t grow any taller if you keep staring.’ 

Bejoo looked suddenly embarrassed. He sheathed his own sword and glanced briefly at Sita. ‘Why does the princess-heir of this great nation travel in disguise and without adequate protection?’ 

‘The first question answers the second,’ Sita said curtly. 

Bejoo stared at her dumbly. 

Rama spoke, addressing the captain while keeping his amused eyes on Sita. ‘The rajkumari means that since she is travelling in disguise, it would be pointless to bring along her entire royal entourage. She might as well hang a sign around her neck announcing who she is.’ 

Understanding dawned on Bejoo’s face. He kept his eyes on a point midway between Rama and Sita. He seemed to be deliberately avoiding looking at the taller woman again. 

Rama went on, ‘As for why she’s travelling in disguise, I have a fair idea what her motive might be, but perhaps the rajkumari would like to tell us in her own words?’ 

‘The rajkumari would rather jump in the River Shona and drown,’ Sita said. 

Lakshman made a show of looking at the shallow stream flowing beside them. ‘Better find another river. Frogs couldn’t drown in this one.’ 

Nakhudi glared down at Lakshman. ‘When you address my mistress, you must speak politely and preface your words with her title, rajkumari.’ 

Lakshman waggled his eyebrows at the bodyguard. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, Rama and I are rajkumars. So if we do as you say, we’d all be adding a lot of extra syllables to our sentences. What do you say we drop the formalities and just use our first names and save all of us a lot of breath and energy?’ 

He ended with a broad wink. 

Nakhudi strode forward, her face darkening. 

‘Enough!’ Sita moved to join her companion, turning to face the others. Now Vishwamitra, Rama, Lakshman and Bejoo were on one side, facing into the light of the camp-fires, their faces clearly illuminated, while Nakhudi and she had their backs to the fires, their faces shrouded by flickering shadows. 

‘What my motives were in travelling incognito are none of your concern, rajkumars,’ Sita said. ‘But out of respect for the venerated brahmarishi, I shall share this information with you.’ 

‘Your graciousness makes me want to supplicate myself in undying gratitude,’ Lakshman said. 

Rama nudged his brother. ‘Enough,’ he said softly. Lakshman subsided reluctantly. 

Sita studiously ignored Lakshman. Instead she directed her attention to the sage. Inclining her head, she joined her hands in a namaskar. Her tone lost its sharp edge and grew humble and respectful. ‘Guru-dev, it was foolish of me to expect to deceive your infinite wisdom and insight. But such was not my intention. I had no expectation of meeting such a venerated seer-mage on the road to—’ 

She broke off abruptly. ‘On the road,’ she finished simply. 

‘On the road to Dandaka.’ The seer’s tone was final. He was telling, not asking. 

Sita stared up at Vishwamitra dumbly for a moment before answering, unable to conceal the shock she felt at the seer’s words. 

She found her voice at last. ‘Indeed, maha-dev. That is where my companion and I were headed.’ 

Vishwamitra nodded grimly. ‘You heard the tales then. Of asuras massing in the Dandaka-van and Bhayanak-van, and other areas south of the sacred rivers. And you requested your father to send scouts to investigate the rumours. But Maharaja Janak’s preoccupation with spiritual matters precluded him from seeing the depth of your anxiety. And so, when he failed to be moved by your entreaties, you decided to take matters into your own hands.’ 

Sita nodded, awed by the seer’s intimate knowledge. ‘It was just as you said, Guru-dev. My father is a good man, but his days are spent increasingly in philosophical discussions and the performing of yagnas. More and more, he has come to believe that ahimsa is the only road to salvation. He has almost completely disbanded the armed forces. The entire kingdom of Videha now has barely one full division to guard its borders and police its capital city. Every time we receive news of some new asura movement or attack–such as the recent invasion attempt on Ayodhya–he dismisses it as idle gossip with no basis in fact.’ 

She shook her head in frustration, remembering how hard she had tried to convince her father on that last morning, and how he had smiled indulgently and nonchalantly at her and tried to change the topic to her marriage plans. 

The sage nodded. Sita felt as if he understood every thought, every emotion she was experiencing now and had ever experienced. His eyes were filled with such bottomless empathy. When he spoke his voice were tinged with a hint of sadness. ‘And so you decided to bring him proof that this was not idle gossip. You took your trusted bodyguard into your confidence and convinced her of the merit of your plan.’ 

Nakhudi spoke, her gruff voice softened by her respect for the seer. ‘My people have known of the Lord of Lanka’s plans for many moons now, sire. But city Kshatriyas regard our clans as warmongers and refuse to listen. They forget that back when war was a way of life, it was the rakshak clans and our clans that watched and warned all the Arya nations. Too many years of peace have made the people soft and thick-bellied. We have forgotten the lessons of our mothers and gurus.’ 

The large warrior chanted aloud: ‘Always watch, always prepare. Carry a sword with you to prayer. Never forget, never forgive. No rest as long as our enemies live.’ 

She ended by making a gesture of grief at a lost one’s memory. ‘My father, mother, four sisters and two brothers all died in the last asura war. I was too young to fight, or I would have gone to Vaikunta with them.’ 

She clenched her fist on the pommel of her sword. The sound of the leather was audible to Bejoo, five yards away. 

The seer nodded. ‘Strong words, Jat. Angry words. As one who has walked the earth from the time of the First asura War to the present day, I understand your anger and feel for your pain. But Maharaja Janak too saw many loved ones lost in the same war; his own bow and sword were drenched with asura blood in that last terrible conflict. I know this even though I was engaged in bhor tapasya, for events of such magnitude cannot escape even a seer absorbed in transcendental devotion.’ 

Nakhudi and Sita frowned at the sage, trying to understand his meaning. He went on gently, ‘Both of you misjudge Maharaja Janak’s desire for peace and nonviolence as a failing. Yet it is the very opposite of a fault, it is a great virtue. The desire for peace and ahimsa is the true sign of the enlightened Arya. It takes great courage to embrace the way of the word over the way of the sword. Maharaja Janak’s acceptance of the principles of ahimsa and peace are just as brave as the taking up of arms.’ 

The two women were silent. Vishwamitra smiled. ‘You disagree. After all, you reason, I am a Brahmin, and a Brahmin would of course favour peaceful non-violence over armed aggression any day.’ He shook his head. ‘I will not preach to you. These things you must understand through direct experience.’ 

He glanced up at the dark night sky. ‘But the hour grows late and we have a mission to fulfil tonight. Go on, Rajkumari Sita. Continue your tale. After your father rejected your advice yet again, you and your companion donned the black garb of travelling Kshatriyas and left the palace and the capital city unrecognised. You travelled southwards, heading for Dandakavan, the unexplored forests beyond the vale of Chitrakut hermitage. For this was the part of Videha that was mentioned in most of the rumours. You wished to see if there were asuras there, perhaps even slay a few yourself. Then you could return home and convince your father to allow you to lead an armed contingent back to the Dandaka-van to deal with the menace.’ 

Sita nodded, her eyes still reflecting her awe at the seer’s insight. ‘Yes, Guru-dev. It was as you said. But we never reached the Dandaka-van. We were crossing the hills when Nakhudi smelled bandits nearby.’ 

Nakhudi nodded. ‘Even a noseless man could smell them a yojana away.’ 

Nobody argued the point. Sita went on. 

‘We crept close to the bandits. They were waiting for something, we saw. We assumed they were laying an ambush for some unsuspecting merchant carting spices or silkworms up from the southern territories where such natural wealth is profuse. We did not know then that they were lying in wait for rksas. We overheard the leader of the clan, the scarred one they called Bear-face, speaking to another bandit. He was speaking of the coming asura invasion, of how the Lord of Lanka’s hordes were already making their way across the great ocean.