SITA’S SISTER (27 page)

‘All you had to do was ask father and he would have given you a simple reply. He was a scared man, Mother, scared of his old age, scared of sudden death and terrified of the nightmares that were persecuting him. He took an impulsive decision which was always known to all of us. As his wife, how did you mistrust him? He must have regretted the day he met and married you…you betrayed him, you broke his heart, you made him spend his last days in misery, a father pining to death for his son…you have created such a turmoil that has left everyone devastated… How can I ever respect you as my mother? I hate you! You are no mother of mine!’

Kaikeyi blanched, white to the lips. ‘Bharat!’ said Urmila, shocked at his brutality. ‘You can’t speak such harsh words for your mother. She is your mother, not an enemy who would have wished you harm.’

‘She has harmed me, my name, my character, my reputation, my ideals!’ he lambasted. ‘She had made me as guilty as herself. How can I face the world? How can I face my two mothers whose sons this woman was responsible for exiling? How can I bear to see their pain while my mother enjoys all the fruit of power with her son? How can she be happy making so many people unhappy? How can I now face you, oh Urmila, who have been separated from her husband for fourteen years all for the selfish, mindless ambition of this woman? Look at her, my wicked mother, how can you bask in her misery?’

Urmila was pained, more at seeing the grief on her brother-in-law’s face. He looked wretched, hating himself more than his mother, helpless in his hatred.

‘How could you send my two brothers away and expect me to rule the kingdom without them? Even my father needed them—they were his two arms, his twin eyes. They are indispensable! You banished Ram, you diabolic woman, but it is you who should have been banished for the treachery! You seriously believed that I would take over my brother’s crown? Never! Like Lakshman, I too shall follow Ram into the forest…’

‘No!’ cried Kaikeyi fearfully. It was a cry of anguish, wrenched out from her heart. ‘You cannot leave Ayodhya!’

‘Yes, my dear mother, I can and I will,’ he said with cold deliberation. ‘I shall punish you with the same pain you have inflicted on my family. I want you to suffer that same grief they are bearing silently.’

Kaikeyi had lost all pallor, her face ashen, her body trembling as each savage word sliced through her. She stood bereft and broken. But Urmila could not seek solace in her desolation. She could barely recognize the quiet, soft-spoken, mild-mannered Bharat of before. Standing before her was a man unforgiving, filled with hate and pain, vengeance and wrath. She recalled Lakshman’s assessment of his brother—he was silent and sweet-tempered but he could be deadly in his mercilessness. And he could never forgive.

‘What purpose will that achieve? Will leaving Ayodhya bring your brothers back?’ asked Urmila softly, her tone placating. ‘And in the process of hurting your mother, you shall hurt your wife too. Please don’t let Mandavi suffer the same fate as me…’ she paused, glancing at her cousin’s stricken face. ‘Don’t, Bharat, don’t hate your mother so, or punish her so ruthlessly; she did it out of ill-advice, hoping to protect you. She did it out of love.’

‘And so it’s the same love that is prompting me to do what Lakshman did—to be with my brother in his hour of need…’ ‘And who’ll rule the kingdom, Bharat?’ Urmila reminded him gently. ‘There is already fear of anarchy in the state. As the crown prince, you now have a duty toward your kingdom first. You cannot leave it like an orphan. If you go, Shatrughna won’t remain here either. So how will it turn out if the four princes of Kosala reside in the forest as hermits while the kingdom is headless, at the mercy of enemies and chaos? You have to be here, Bharat, as your father commanded, and rule the kingdom.’

Kaikeyi looked at her gratefully, her lips trembling. Urmila recalled how the king, the elder queen, and even her proud Lakshman, had been ready to grovel at her feet, begging for her kindness, for some show of mercy. But the queen had remained cold-hearted, pushing her husband to a slow, wretched death, driving Kausalya into madness of grief and making Sumitra and herself frozen in their silent sorrow. Yet Urmila could not despise this woman; she felt sorry for her. She cut a piteous picture; a mother loathed by her son, shunned and rejected by him. Discarded by the same person for whom she had committed this heinous misdeed. A scheme wasted. And in her whimper, Urmila heard defeat. She saw a woman’s wasteful tears for herself, for a crime perpetrated in vain, punished forever with infamy. The queen was without her crown, the mother without her child.

Bharat heard her silently, his face still a mask of cold fury. But he seemed to thaw at her words of persuasion. ‘My father ordered me to rule this kingdom, he ordered my brother on a fourteen-year exile. And I shall obey—but in my way,’ he said quietly. ‘I cannot rule this kingdom which I am not entitled to. I have already earned the hate of my people. They do not respect or trust me. So how can I become king? I am not worthy of it, I have no moral right over it. Only Ram can be the rightful king as he has the approval of his citizens and the royal court. So now, the only way out is to bring back Ram from the forest and return him his kingdom. I shall perform the last rites of my poor father, and leave for the forest to do what he wished—get back Ram and return him his throne.’

Urmila felt a cool ray of hope sluicing through her. Her face, instinctively, softened into a bright smile, bringing a sudden glow. ‘Bharat, you could not have uttered more kind and sensible words. It will bring the love and peace back into the family and the kingdom. Go, dear brother, you have all our blessing.’

‘Yes, dear son, this is the best way out,’ agreed the queen. ‘This way you shall earn the lost respect and trust of the people. It is the best move.’

‘…Trust you, Queen Kaikeyi, to think of politics even in this hour!’ derided Bharat. ‘I am not doing to earn the lost respect—it can never be retrieved—not in a hundred years, and not through a hundred kind gestures. I am doing this to live with myself. I shall take my mothers along to bring him back…’

Kaikeyi rose to get up. ‘I shall come too, son.’

‘No, you won’t!’ he snapped. ‘You are the one who sent him there. With what face will you get him back? To gain a semblance of respect in the eyes of others? Is it another of your stunts? It cannot be a change of heart as just a few minutes ago, you were poisoning my mind against him. No, I forbid you to come with me. I don’t trust you any longer. I shall go alone, I have to repent and do penance for your sins, Queen Kaikeyi, as I have the misfortune of being born your son. And neither shall you earn the lost love, respect and trust I once had for you. From now on, I cease to be your son, and you my mother. I disown you!’

His mother crumbled slowly to the floor and sobbed, her hands covering her weeping face, the tears falling in deep anguish. It was a pitiable sight—the fall of the high and mighty queen, robbed of her pride and respect, and worse, her beloved son.

But Bharat was not finished; he continued heartlessly, ‘You have become such a hated person, a despicable name that none, from henceforth, shall ever name their daughter Kaikeyi!’ he cursed.

The queen quailed before him, her face grey, her eyes beseeching. His words were like poisoned barbs, piercing her with brutal precision.

‘My mothers are Kausalya and Sumitra, the noble ladies whom I can call my own. And I am that unfortunate son who has to go to them and ask for their forgiveness. And seek some absolution for your sin, Queen Kaikeyi, for all the wrong that has befallen them because of your harmful intent. I shall now go to meet my mothers. I need to beg for their forgiveness.’

With those firm, final words, he left the room, hoping to make amends, the right man determined to get the wronged man back home. Shanta, hoped Urmila, would learn to trust this brother again.

A sharp yelp of pain made them turn around. There was another shriek. Manthara was coming towards them, her eyes wild with terror, limping as fast as she could. Seeing Bharat, she hurtled herself at his feet, gasping for breath and mercy. Shatrughna was striding close, his face murderous. Bharat stopped him, holding him by his arms as he was about to strike the old woman.

‘No! You cannot hit a woman!’ shouted Bharat. ‘It’s not proper!’

‘She is a fiend, not a woman! She is the one who has destroyed our family; our trusted maid for these many years and all she nursed was hatred for us—and for Ram especially!’ said Shatrughna, a nerve twitching on his forehead. ‘Do you remember that day, Bharat? We boys were playing in the courtyard and things got a little rough between you and Ram. She intervened and shouted at Ram. And Ram angrily shot her with his wooden arrow at her stooped back and called her ugly. She was furious and complained to our father, and the king punished us by sending us to a school where we would be disciplined. Ram accepted but it was her reaction which moved him intensely. He had never imagined that his angry retort could hurt the old woman so profoundly and from that day he promised himself he would never utter an unkind word to anyone. But this woman—she repaid with revenge. She finally got back at Ram—depriving him of his throne and banishing him from the kingdom for no crime, no offence committed. She is the mastermind of this devious plot, Bharat, and she should be punished for it!’

‘She will be, but spare her now…if Ram comes to know you hit a woman, he would never forgive you, and is she worth the offence?’

‘If I could, I would kill her right here; my hand is at my sword!’ seethed Shatrughna.

Manthara whimpered. A pathetic figure huddled at Bharat’s feet, she evoked no sympathy from any of them, except for Kaikeyi who rushed forward to help. Bharat restrained her.

‘No, please, Shatrughna, no! She is my old nursemaid; she’s like a mother to me!’

‘A mother? Does a mother feed her child with slow poison and turn her into a monster?’ asked Shatrughna scornfully. ‘You believed her lies, her half-truths against your family. Did you trust her more than us? Did you love her more than us, O mother, that you wrought so much pain and tragedy and banished Ram? It is she who should be banished from the kingdom! Bharat, do that or I swear I shall kill her!’

Kaikeyi tried to reason. ‘Bharat, take pity on this old woman. Where will she go in her old age?’ pleaded the queen. ‘She is contrite, forgive her! She has been the grandmother you never had, just like she was the mother I never had. Remember with how much love and affection she used to feed you…’

‘Oh, yes, just like I recall how you used to feed Ram by making him sit on your lap? Was that love, Queen Kaikeyi?’ asked Bharat sardonically, his anger rekindled, the pain gnawing at him.

But his mother’s plea had taken effect. Urmila saw that Bharat was softening toward Manthara; he could not harm the maid who had nursed him as a child. He was too pure-hearted to inflict any hurt or injury and Manthara knew that well. She had shrewdly come to the right person to beg pardon.

‘Throw her out, Bharat!’ Urmila said strongly. ‘Ram killed Taraka—she was a woman, a monster and so is this old hag sitting by your feet, imploring for mercy. Show her no compassion. She is venom, tainting, polluting and corrupting slowly, superbly and oh so, successfully!’ she added wryly. ‘She did that to your mother. All those terrible words you said to your mother a while ago should be directed at this wicked woman. She is the brain behind this conspiracy. She has been vitiating every mind in the palace since long.’

Mandavi flushed red. ‘Yes, Bharat, remove her from here. She is sweet but oh so deadly! She made me say the most unutterable things to my sisters, whipping a quiet hostility within me towards them. Don’t have her here any longer! I shudder when I recall how I could be so gullible, so vulnerable—she is a witch who spellbinds and makes us do what she wants with her sweet talk and mind games.’

‘She did that with us, she did it with you brothers,’ said Urmila slowly, ‘and she did it with the three queens, splintering the already fragile relationship between them. But her biggest success was hurting Ram through your mother who was her victim, her pawn. Didn’t you realize that, can’t you still see what she did, Ma Kaikeyi?’ asked Urmila, turning to the queen, who stood pale and dazed before her. ‘Is this what a mother does to her daughter? Use her to wreck her own family?’

There was a discomfiting silence as the queen walked slowly toward the huddled old woman, and helped her up, holding her by her disfigured shoulder. Manthara darted her a quick look, a sly hope crawling into her cataract eyes. The queen looked her up and down, eyeing her carefully.

‘The world called you an ugly hunchback, laughed at you, teased you and taunted you but I always took up cudgels against them. Because I loved you for what you were—the woman who nursed and tended me, took care of me since I was a baby,’ said Kaikeyi softly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘I barely knew maternal love—my mother left us and you took her place—and I sought that love from you. Your lap was my little world, my haven. Even after my marriage, I got you here, because I loved you and would have missed you too much. The king and everyone else in this palace gave you the respect I demanded for you. But what did you give me, Manthara? Ill-advice, disgrace, hate and revulsion the stigma of which I cannot wipe ever? I ruined my happiness, my family; my husband died heartbroken, my son has now turned against me…I saw only love in your deformed figure. Today I see you for what you are. A hideous, ugly hunchback as crooked as you look!’ Rage flashed in her eyes but within it burned embers of hurt, disillusionment and betrayal. ‘You are my nemesis, never my mother—go, evil woman, go before your blood is on my hands!’