SITA’S SISTER (3 page)

Urmila’s questions were swiftly answered by her voluble cousin, who was still gushing about the young princes of Ayodhya.

‘It seems Sage Vishwamitra asked King Dashrath of Ayodhya for the help of his two sons, Ram and Lakshman, to kill some demons who were disrupting his penance in the Dandaka forest. I don’t remember their names…’ she frowned. ‘Oh yes, the she-demon Taraka and her sons Subahu and Mareecha. These demons were very powerful and none could kill them. But these two young princes did! Mareecha escaped but they killed both the dreaded Taraka and Subahu.’

‘But why have they come
here
?’ Urmila asked sharply. Was her father in trouble with the influential, irascible sage? Had he sent the princes as a silent warning? Was tension brewing between Mithila and Ayodhya? Urmila couldn’t stem her troubled thoughts.

‘Oh, nothing. They are here just to enjoy themselves!’ Mandavi shrugged airily. ‘It seems the revered sage wanted the princes of Ayodhya to meet the famous King Janak of Mithila, my renowned uncle!’ she guffawed.

‘Don’t be so flippant, dear!’ chided Sita good-humouredly. ‘You must have found out why they are here through your sources…’

Mandavi nodded, ‘But seriously, Vishwamitra came to Mithila to attend the yagna uncle is performing for which he has invited all the rishis of the country. You can well imagine his delight when Vishwamitra paid an unexpected visit!’

‘So these two young men with the rishi are here to visit Mithila…?’ said Kirti softly. ‘Or are they here for Sita’s swayamvar?’ she asked flatly.

Kirti had incisively voiced Urmila’s doubts but she knew there was more to it than what was apparent. She glanced at Sita who was frowning and seemed to share her apprehensions.

That morning was not their usual morning. Sita, who had been unusually silent during the past few days, was late in returning from the temple. Her cousins had gone off to help her mother in the wedding preparations. And instead of joining them, Urmila was waiting for Sita to return. Where was she, Urmila could not stop fretting. She wasn’t in the kitchen, her favourite haunt, Urmila had checked. A full two hours later, the otherwise splendidly calm and collected Sita entered the room, her usually pale face ashen. She looked visibly flustered and was making it worse by trying to hide it.

‘Why are you late?’ grumbled Urmila, ‘I have been waiting for you when I am supposed to help Mother with the jewellery and Father in compiling his texts for the visiting rishis. Where had you disappeared…’ Urmila’s indignation trailed off when she realized her sister was barely paying attention to her. Urmila watched her roaming around the room restlessly till she could not take it anymore. She got up and took Sita’s hands in hers. They were cold and trembling.

‘What is it?’ she asked gently. ‘You haven’t been yourself lately. I noticed it but decided to let you be till you thought it right to disclose. Is there anything? What took you so long?’

Sita did not answer immediately but looked at Urmila with the wide, frightened eyes of a trapped doe.

‘What’s wrong?’ Urmila repeated, her sister’s fear was beginning to affect her too, but she refused to panic.

‘I just met him again…!’ blurted Sita, with an uncharacteristic fumble.

Urmila stared back at her vacantly, not comprehending her words. Sita made another effort to explain.

‘I just met Ram, the prince of Ayodhya, in the garden. And his brother Lakshman,’ she added hastily.

‘And?’ Urmila pressed kindly.

Sita blushed prettily, and profusely. The otherwise eloquent Sita, who could smartly retort with lucid clarifications or recite a quick couplet of poetry, seemed to be at a loss for the right words. All she did was play with her fingers. She needn’t have explained. Urmila took a quick, informed guess. And measuring Sita’s altering expressions and emotions, Urmila felt a huge sense of relief, and delayed delight. Had Sita finally met her man?

‘It’s so extreme,’ said Sita with a sigh. ‘It happened three days ago. I was on my way to the Gauri temple as I always do every morning—and imagine my shock when I saw him…er them, standing right before me in the garden. I was in my own world, dreaming as usual, and almost walked into them!’ she laughed self-consciously.

Responding to Urmila’s enquiring look, she rushed quickly, ‘They bowed and introduced themselves and said they were collecting flowers for the puja to be performed by Rishi Vishwamitra…’

Urmila did not interrupt but allowed her sister the luxury of time in explaining the most heart-stirring episode of her life which seemed to have whipped up such an emotional upheaval in her.

‘…And all I could do was stare at him and finally I nodded politely and fled without saying a word!’

‘Sita,’ wailed Urmila, in mock despair, ‘you didn’t!’

‘Oh that’s why I am feeling so foolish now. What must he have thought of me? Some wide-eyed idiot who didn’t have the etiquettes befitting a princess!’ Sita groaned in self-admonishment.

‘A wide-eyed, lovelorn idiot,’ Urmila corrected teasingly.

‘Don’t!’ Sita begged. ‘I have never felt so utterly stupid and incompetent before! And how did you guess it was love?’ she demanded indignantly. ‘Here I am trying to assimilate my feelings and there you go, already jumping to this ridiculous conclusion!’

Urmila remained silent, her smile encouraging Sita to divulge further. ‘Oh Urmila, what do I do? I don’t seem to be able to understand anything for the past three days!’ she said, in open bewilderment. ‘I saw him again today and I ran from there and have been sitting on the verandah steps for an hour trying to catch my breath and get back to my senses. I can’t seem to think straight. There was a strange, strong pull I felt for him which I simply could not wish away. It was magnetic, mesmerizing… It is a spell I can’t seem to break off!’ she cried as if in pain but there was a serene glow about her, the first flare of love shining in her eyes, lighting up her face.

It took Urmila’s breath away. She could merely stare in amazement at the plight of her sister. Could one meeting be so potent? So completely overwhelming? So irresistible, overpowering and devastating?

‘Will you please come with me to the temple tomorrow morning?’ Sita asked in a small voice. ‘I know you are not too fond of visiting the temple but I guess I shall feel a lot braver if you are there…’

‘…In case you bump into him again?’ Urmila said mischievously. ‘This time, please improvise, and plan, write and memorize what you are going to say to him.’

‘No, but I shouldn’t be meeting him, should I?’ Sita asked suddenly, getting up in nervous apprehension. ‘I should not be. I am supposed to be getting married in a week’s time and what am I doing thinking about a stranger? Why can’t I stop thinking of him?’ she cried in self-mortification. ‘This is madness! What am I thinking of?’ She said in utter despair.

‘Calm down, Sita, you have done nothing wrong!’ Urmila shook her elder sister gently. ‘You are getting agitated and self-flagellating for an imagined crime.’

‘You can’t stop going to the temple because there may be a slim chance that you might meet him, can you? So let’s take tomorrow as it comes—we go together to the temple and I shall pray for you too!’

The dawn was soft and pink, leisurely changing into flaming yellow and oranges as the sun rose late into the winter sky. Mandavi and Kirti were surprised to see Urmila accompanying them to the temple and insisted on knowing the reason. Urmila could not think of a quick retort or a reply that would assuage the collective curiosity of her probing cousins.

‘Getting rid of my sins,’ Urmila murmured tactfully.

‘How did you get religious suddenly?’ Mandavi demanded. ‘You are more the freethinker—who doesn’t believe in rituals and rites. Or is it that you have caught Sita’s fever of searching for a groom?’

Sita coloured a delicate pink. ‘That’s a downright tasteless remark!’ blustered Urmila.

Mandavi grinned wickedly. ‘In fact, I think all the three of us should pray for the most suitable husband from henceforth—after Sita, we will be in quick reckoning!’

The early morning prayers and aarti done, the four girls collected the prasad and started to walk back to the palace. Running down the temple steps, trying to warm herself against the morning chill, Urmila started walking briskly through the fragrant, flower-laden garden. She stopped abruptly when she heard Sita gasp softly beside her.

She looked up and there they were, standing tall, still and silhouetted against the fast rising sun, as if they, too, were waiting for them to come into full view. And Urmila realized why Sita had been feeling guilty—there was a strong trace of stealth and a furtive anticipation at each step which got them closer to the two waiting youths.

‘Oh, there are the two princes of Ayodhya!’ Kirti exclaimed animatedly.

‘Hush!’ Mandavi whispered furiously.

Oblivious of the sotto voce exchange of words behind her, Urmila was more keen on observing Sita’s expressions. She had faltered and fallen back, her head lowered, drawing the shawl closer. Urmila realized she was leading the pack with her sisters and the retinue of maids trailing her. Now it was up to her to either ignore them or walk past…but that would be blatantly discourteous. The other alternative was to stop and greet them. She decided upon the latter.

The two young men were already bowing their heads, their hands folded together in salutation. She did the same and hoped the girls behind her were doing the same as well. ‘Greetings! Welcome to Mithila!’ she said politely. ‘I am Urmila, and here are my cousins Mandavi and Kirti, and my sister Sita.’

‘Greetings to you ladies,’ Prince Ram said softly and smiled. ‘And good morning again, O princess of Mithila,’ he said looking straight at Sita. Urmila could almost hear Sita’s heart breaking with joy. ‘I am Ram and this is my younger brother Lakshman.’

Urmila glanced swiftly at him in polite acknowledgement. The other man bowed stiffly, and unlike his brother, his face was immobile, frozen in cold hauteur.

‘I had heard Mithila was one of the most beautiful cities of the country but I refused to believe that there could be a city prettier than our lovely Ayodhya. But I was wrong; Mithila is beautiful. And so are the people. And the kind hospitality of the king and the queen,’ he said pointedly, with a gracious smile.

It was not mere polite conversation or idle small talk; he was praising Mithila with genuine conviction. His charm did not ring false and his easy, affable sincerity was heartwarming.

Ram was as handsome as he was renowned to be. Tall and athletic, a bow or a sword would have become his stature more than the basket of flowers he was carrying right now. Yet he did not appear ludicrous, carrying it with an easy grace and dexterity. However, one could not say the same about his brother. Lakshman stood rigid and unsmiling as the short conversation flowed between Ram and her. He looked distinctly impatient, his lips curled in slight annoyance. He was as tall as Ram, slimmer and more lithe and unbelievably handsome in a craggy way; but without the likeable, pleasing good looks of his elder brother. He had a saturnine, chiselled face with a thin, crooked nose and deep, smouldering eyes, but the perpetual, glowering frown marred his handsomeness. He stood taut and wired, as if ready to spring at the slightest pretext. He suddenly looked at her with his dark, piercing eyes and she felt herself go warm, then cold. It was not his eyes, darkly luminous and jet black, but it was the regard. His gaze seemed to go right through the bone. Urmila shivered. What a decidedly odd, unlikely pair. She saw he was bowing stiff again as if to get away from the chatter as fast as he could. She bowed her head, her eyes frosty, and turned away from the two brothers, but not before she caught a look being exchanged between Sita and Ram. Urmila took her sister’s arm and pulled her away, and the four girls continued their way back to the palace. They walked in discreet silence, hesitant to talk in the presence of the whispering maids.

The moment they were in the safe confines of the inner chamber, the mood altered noisily.

‘So that was the reason for your unusual presence at the temple, you wanted to meet the princes!’ Mandavi accused Urmila.

Urmila bristled. The encounter with the younger prince had left her in a decidedly volatile mood and Mandavi’s comment fuelled the fire within her. But before she could explode, Sita came swiftly to her rescue. ‘It was I who dragged her out—I didn’t want to go to the temple alone. I wasn’t sure if the two of you would wake up on time as you slept late last night looking up the wedding feast menu,’ she explained smoothly.