SITA’S SISTER (34 page)

Urmila flinched. The glee and grief both gleaming in the old queen’s eyes made her shudder. Singed, Kausalya was still willing to smoulder in the flames of jealous rage.

‘And you derive your happiness from her unhappiness?’ questioned Urmila, trying to sound laconic. ‘Mother, the tragedy in this happy house did not start with the death of your husband or the exile of your son—it started long ago with you as well…’

She heard the queen gasp sharply but ignored it.

‘…And your jealous love and anger strained so many relationships,’ continued Urmila steadily. ‘Do not consider me impertinent, Mother, but it was that unabated rivalry between you and Ma Kaikeyi that perpetuated all that we are suffering today. Your sole ambition was to see Ram become king. Just as your jealousy made you insecure about your royal position as a queen, wife and mother, Mother Kaikeyi too suffered from the same insecurity that you would be queen mother once Ram became king.’

Urmila saw the look of intense surprise flit across the pained, lined face of the elderly queen. She probably could not imagine her rival as a vulnerable, insecure person. ‘It was this emotional vulnerabilty which prompted Ma Kaikeyi to do the unthinkable—demand the rights of her son,’ continued Urmila. ‘This distrustful, jealous envy between the two of you which was sowed years ago has grown to hideous proportions, ruining everything in its wake—love, family, peace and happiness. And yet you continue to go on heedlessly even when both of you have lost so much in the process. Today is the day your son was born but are you happy?’ mocked Urmila. ‘You are poisoned with thoughts of bitterness for Mother Kaikeyi. What she did is indefensible, but she is paying for it too. Is that not enough? Have you not lost enough? What more do you hope to lose and gain?’

Kausalya was livid. Her eyes flashed suddenly and Urmila was startled to see how formidable she could look when she let her mask slip. ‘How dare you talk to me so disrespectfully?’ she seethed. ‘Your impertinence needs to be curbed. You should have been reprimanded that day at Chitrakoot when you questioned Bharat’s decision. You had the temerity to challenge the propriety of my son, the king, the whole family but it is our goodness that we kept quiet, because we gave you the respect that a daughter-in-law deserves. You are Soumitra’s wife, not just the princess of Mithila any longer.’

‘Yes, Mithila…where I was taught to protest against injustice,’ said Urmila softly. ‘I am not just watching the injustice, Mother, I am a part of it. I am also suffering because of the mistakes of the elders in the family. But I am not pleading for myself. All I am asking is for some peace to return in this house,’ implored Urmila. ‘They are gone but your famous rivalry remains! It insidiously seeped into your relationship with your husband, your son, and even threatened the relationship between the four brothers. But they thankfully remained unpoisoned by it. In fact, their love grew stronger as the hostility between you two grew. Even your petty jealousies could not tear them apart till that fateful day.’

Urmila paused for breath, her face hot. But the queen remained silent, at a loss of words before the girl who was voicing the secret fears and the pain that had tortured her all these years.

‘Ironically, in this game of jealousy and powerplay between you both, it was your sons who came out the winners…and the victims. They are paying for your folly. And yet they won, where both of you lost; their love survived and surpassed your hatred bringing them even closer. Lakshman and Bharat sacrificed their personal lives for their brother unhesitatingly to be at his side. Ram preferred to go on exile rather than fight for his rights or usurp his brother’s kingship. So, I ask you mother, when Ram returns and the brothers are reunited, will that animosity between the two of you again ruin things for them? Because I am afraid, if this mutual distrust continues to thrive, we shall never ever be together as a family again. Ever.’

Urmila went away leaving Kausalya staring stonily at her caged parrot—a lonely woman with bitter memories tormenting her conscience.

The joyousness of the celebrations lingered for long, ushering a sense of contentment, however wistful. It was like rain after a long, dry spell. And when the rains did come a few months later, they arrived with inauspicious news. King Aswapati had passed away after a long illness. Kaikeyi took the news with dignified composure and immediately left with Mandavi for Girivraja, the capital city of Kekeya. She did not wait for Bharat who was quickly informed at Nandigram. Shatrughna offered to accompany her but she kindly refused, explaining that Ayodhya needed him more than Kekaya did. Kausalya was at her kindest—she looked after every detail of her departure, arranging for the victuals, medicines and escorts needed for the long journey. She came to see Kaikeyi off as she climbed onto the waiting chariot.

Visibly touched, Kaikeyi reciprocated by saying, ‘I don’t deserve your kindness. I think this is the first time I shall regret leaving Ayodhya,’ she said with a whimsical smile, ‘and the first time that I shall be happy to return from Kekeya to Ayodhya. Take care, I shall be fine.’

It was just after a day Kaikeyi had left that they received another letter from Kekeya. A maid handed it to Urmila and she took it, surprised and slightly intrigued.

‘What could it be? It is not a message. It is a sealed letter,’said Urmila, peering closely at the royal insignia embossed on the letter. ‘From the late King Aswapti to Queen Kaikeyi.’

‘Open it; it might be something urgent,’ suggested Kirti. They were sitting in Urmila’s sun-drenched morning room when the maid had arrived with the letter.

‘But it’s private!’ retorted Urmila. ‘Between a father and his daughter.’

‘But Ma Kaikeyi won’t be back before a month! What if the letter has something of time-bound importance? And how private could it be? Open it, Urmi, I am sure Ma Kaikeyi won’t be annoyed.’

Urmila opened the letter with utmost reluctance. It was not a very long letter but by the time Urmila quickly managed to read it, her face was drained of all colour. Alarmed, Kirti leaned towards her sister, touching her arm anxiously. She had never seen her sister so shaken.

‘What happened, Urmi? What is in that letter?’ she demanded.

Wordlessly, Urmila handed the letter to Kirti. She almost snatched it and hurriedly went over it, fearing the worst. ‘Oh heavens! How could this happen?’ she said hoarsely.

She turned to Urmila urgently. ‘What are we to do now? Should we tell the others?’

‘No! Wait! Let me think…I wish we hadn’t opened this letter but I am also thankful that we did!’ she added fervently. ‘We got to know what Ma Kaikeyi had been hiding from us all along…’ She kept shaking her head, refusing to believe what she had just read.

‘I think everyone in the family should know about this, it’s shocking!’ cried Kirti. ‘We should not hide it any longer!’

Urmila perused the contents of the letter again, slowly and surely, making certain she was not missing out on any detail. She frowned, muttering, ‘It is unbelievable! I think we need to show this to everyone, especially Bharat,’ she said emphatically. ‘For now, Shatrughna needs to know this.’

‘And the other queen mothers?’

‘Yes, they too, eventually,’ she replied grimly. ‘Let’s wait for Ma Kaikeyi to return…’

‘Do you intend to talk to her abour this? Or should we keep quiet; it is her secret that we are divulging.’

‘…but which urgently needs to be divulged; don’t you see, Kirti? It has already caused untold damage and if we keep quiet about it now, it would be unfair on all of us.’

Kirti nodded slowly.

‘Yes, but only you have the temerity to talk about this with her. Or Mother Sumitra?’

‘No, since I was guilty of committing the crime of opening that letter, let me handle this,’ said Urmila firmly, filled with a sudden resolve. Kaikeyi would have a lot to answer for when she returned, she thought with mounting unease.

Urmila wondered how she would start the conversation with Kaikeyi. She had arrived the previous evening and the next morning saw Urmila restless to broach the subject. She held the letter in her hands, staring at it but unable to gather enough courage to ask the queen the questions and doubts that were bubbling on her lips.

With grudging and growing respect, Urmila had acknowledged the fact that the queen was an exceptional lady, possibly because she had been brought up that way by her father. He had clearly favoured his youngest daughter over his seven sons. She was his favourite, and not just because of her incomparable beauty but also because she was a scholar, brilliant in music and the arts and warfare. She was his eighth son—he had brought her up as he had his sons, but with a more benevolent, liberal eye. And he hoped to find the finest groom for this extraordinary daughter of his and thus, when King Dashrath placed his request for matrimony with his lovely child, King Aswapti was acutely displeased and disappointed. For though, the king of Kosala was considered to be one of the mightiest kings of the country, with powerful friends like Lord Indra, the king, the father believed, was too old for his young, lissome daughter who had just turned eighteen. Much to his chagrin, his daughter pleaded her case too—she, too, had fallen in love with him and wanted to marry the middle-aged king, old enough to be her father.

The father reluctantly obliged, but not without reservations and the condition that the firstborn child of Kaikeyi would be the heir to the throne. The besotted king of Kosala agreed readily, and he never regretted his choice. Kaikeyi was young, lovely and adventurous, completely unlike the staid, solemn Kausalya. But like her, this young wife, too, could not beget him a son.

But the consequent birth of the four boys is another story, thought Urmila. What intrigued her was the stronghold her father had over Kaikeyi and which she never attempted to break off, despite her marriage and the huge physical distance between the two kingdoms. In fact, she kept sending Bharat to her father’s palace so often that he was mainly educated there. That was another grouse, Urmila remembered, Manthara had against Kaikeyi—that she had neglected Bharat at the expense of her strong affection for Ram. Then how is that a mother who loved Ram so completely suddenly turned against him to protect the interest of that son whom she had largely ignored through his childhood years? Urmila, at last, had got her answer. And it was in the letter in her hand…and it was time the secret was revealed.

With much trepedition, but unfaltering steps, Urmila entered Kaikeyi’s chamber. It was still the most luxurious, flamboyant room and described the queen’s personality best. Kaikeyi looked surprised to see her, but greeted her warmly.

The smile, however, disappeared when Urmila showed her the opened letter. She lost her pallor as she leafed through it quickly.

‘It has been opened!’ she said sharply. ‘Who dared do that?’

‘I did,’ replied Urmila evenly. ‘And that’s why I came to return it to the rightful owner.’

‘But that does not justify your action. I thought you had more dignity than being a mere snoop, Urmila!’ said the queen scathingly.

But Urmila could see that behind all that blistering anger was a worry, an unease that was gnawing at her. The queen looked restless.

‘You may leave,’ she said curtly.

Urmila remained where she was. ‘I did not just open it, I read it too,’ she said softly.

‘So I assumed,’ snapped the queen. ‘But please leave now. I have no intention to speak with you further.’

‘Kirti and Shatrughna know about this letter too. They have read it as well.’ Kaikeyi went a shade paler. ‘And Kausalya and Sumitra?’ she asked in a hoarse whisper.

‘Not yet,’ explained Urmila. ‘We were not too sure how they would react…but they will know of it eventually, as will Bharat, Ram, Sita and Lakshman.’

The queen’s knees suddenly buckled; she sank slowly to the floor.

‘No! Oh, God, no!’ she cried.

Urmila rushed to her. ‘But why? Why were you hiding this terrible truth from us?’ she asked wildly.

The queen shook her head and wept. They were tears of defeat and disconsolateness.

Urmila could not help herself; she wrapped her arms around the shaking shoulders of the older woman, giving her whatever comfort she could.