Sita added: ‘Since we are proceeding there to reside, we would appreciate anything you could tell us in this regard, maha-dev.’
Sage Agastya stroked his beard thoughtfully, his forehead wrinkled with concentration. He could hardly ignore their queries, Rama knew, and waited patiently for his answer.
Instead, it was another voice that spoke first. The rishi with the discoloured face stepped forward. ‘Maha-dev, if I may speak … ?’
Agastya looked troubled. He turned his wise, tired eyes to the rishi.
Finally he nodded. ‘Speak, Somashrava.’
The rishi’s face was pinched with intensity, the discolorations on his forehead and cheek seeming to change colour as he grew more agitated. ‘The stories you heard are true. Demons abound within the deep woods. After leaving our ashram, you will find only one more Brahmin on your route. That is the venerable sage Atri and his legendary wife Anasuya. But beyond their domicile you will find no more Brahmin inhabitants. After you cross the confluence of the rivers, travel over Chitrakut hill and Panchvati grove, then cross the Godavari, you will see only wilderness. A desolate spiritual wasteland, beautiful and alluring in its physical temptations, like a honey trap laid out to entice and imprison mortals with fleshly desires. No mortal who enters those woods ever returns … at least, they do not return as mortals.’
Somashrava fell silent after this astonishing speech, after a look from his guru, even though it was evident that he had much more to say. The rishi’s emotions had changed visibly while narrating these few details; his discolorations had turned from their green tinge into an almost reddish hue.
Rama asked, ‘Do you fear attacks by these asuras?’
Rishi Somashrava looked at his guru. Sage Agastya remained silent, his long face and high cheekbones still with disapproval.
Lakshman spoke. ‘Why else would you have walled in your ashram, maha-dev, if not to keep out something that threatens you?’
Somashrava began to speak again, in a headlong rush. ‘All the other sages have fled this region. Once there were many ashrams here—’
‘Enough,’ Agastya said quietly. ‘Rajkumars, rajkumari … you need not trouble yourself with these matters. We will deal with these inconveniences as they arise. It is an inevitable part of our penance and a small price to pay for eventual spiritual enlightenment.’
Somashrava looked as if he would cry out. The discolorations on his face were turning blackish now. Rama wondered if the colour changes reflected the rishi’s emotional state or were caused by some unrelated factor.
Rama suggested politely, ‘It would be helpful if we heard the whole matter, guru-dev. After all, we are now residents of these parts too, virtually neighbours. And as neighbours, we must share our troubles.’
Agastya sighed, laying a wrinkled white-haired arm on Rama’s shoulder. ‘My son - for you are as a son to me - we are far more fortunate than some of us realise. These environs, where our ashram is situated, are relatively peaceful and tranquil yet. Compared to the Dandaka-van into which your brave trio ventures, we are almost safe and sound here. You, on the other hand, will have far more contentious matters to contend with within those formidable woods. What Somashrava has told you is all true. Be on your guard night and day inside that terrible place. There are perils that would infatuate any mortal and sway him from the path of common reason. If you were not pupils of Guru Vashishta and the great Vishwamitra, achievers of such notable feats of Kshatriya bravery, I would have entreated you not to go any further, for it would mean certain destruction. As it is, I give you all my blessings for a safe exile and shall offer special prayers to the Lord Brahma daily until your fourteen years are over and you pass this way once more.’
‘Why will you not tell them?’
Somashrava’s voice quivered with frustration and anger. ‘Why will you not tell them about the gandharva? That murderer of my brother and father and of so many other innocents among our brahmacharyas? These men are champions, heroes of the Bhayanak-van, cleansers of the cursed Southwoods, slayers of Tataka and her demon hordes, challengers of Ravana, and of Parsurama. Already, their deeds are the stuff of history. Then why will you not tell them about our bane? They can help us. They can slay the creature and avenge our lost friends … and my blood-relatives.’
Agastya didn’t react angrily at Somashrava’s unexpected and unorthodox outburst, as Rama expected. Instead, the sage looked sad. ‘Because it is not their karma, Somashrava. They are merely passing through our habitat on their way to their own destination. We cannot divert them from their intended goal and ask them to solve our problems.’
‘Why not?’ Somashrava demanded, his voice and tone still respectful and controlled, but trembling with urgent desperation. Rama could see tears bunching in the corners of the rishi’s eyes. The tears were yellowish black in colour. ‘They are Kshatriyas, we are Brahmins at a holy outpost, expanding the realm of Brahman. The code of the Kshatriyas says that we may call upon any of them to protect us and defend us from aggressors, be they human or inhuman. It is their dharma to fight for our survival.’
‘True,’ Agastya said. ‘But the code of the Kshatriyas does not apply to exiles. Being banished, they are now bound only by the terms of their banishment. Rama, Sita and Lakshman need only stay in the Dandaka-van and survive the fourteen years. Nothing else is required of them. As exiles, they exist outside the Laws of Manu.’
Outside the law.
Outlaws
. It was hard hearing oneself described with that word, even though it was spoken by a wise and sympathetic tongue, and was undeniably accurate. The truth was not easy for Rama to accept.
An outlaw in my own kingdom, that is what I am now become
.
Somashrava was silenced momentarily by his guru’s argument. Still, the rishi was searching for some counterargument, unwilling to concede the point that easily. His father and brother, he had said. And many other brahmacharyas as well? No wonder the poor Brahmin was beside himself with grief. Rama looked around and saw, as he had sensed, the door of the hut crowded with the faces of acolytes. The entire population of the ashram had gathered outside the hut, listening eagerly to the debate. The silent pleading in the eyes of the little brahmacharyas told its own story. Rama noticed now for the first time that one of them had an arm missing, another an eye, a third a leg, a fourth had an ugly scar on his bald head and neck … He guessed that these crippled ones had been inside one of the huts when the visitors had entered the ashram, not among the more active acolytes. No doubt Rishi Somashrava’s own facial discoloration had been caused by some similar encounter with the berserker in question.
He turned to Sage Agastya without hesitation. ‘Maha-dev, permit me to speak my mind. All that you have said is undeniably true. Your knowledge of dharma and the laws of my ancestor Manu are unquestionable. Yet even though the code no longer applies to us exiles, outlaws as we are for these fourteen years, yet we still carry our weapons for our own protection. We intend to use them freely to defend ourselves and our loved ones against any aggressors. And what else art thou and thy ashramites if not beloved to us, who love all things that serve Brahman? So, I ask you humbly and in all deference to your greater years and wisdom, allow us this opportunity to serve you. Not to avenge those who have been struck down, but because we wish it. We would not choose to turn our backs on such a menace, for who is to say that he might not follow us and attack us while we sleep? One asura downed is one asura fewer for us to fear in Dandaka-van. Let us face and destroy this evil that plagues you, and gain spiritual satisfaction for ourselves as well. Show us this gandharva and we will kill him.’
NINE
‘Here.’
Rishi Somashrava crouched down by the peepal tree and pointed to a spot on the ground, near the trunk. A large stain discoloured the leaf-strewn earth, spreading outwards in smaller splotches, the way blood might splash out of a human body if it was slashed open. As the rishi glanced up over his shoulder to see his reaction, Rama was struck by the peculiar similarity between the stain on the ground and the tree trunk, and the discoloration on Somashrava’s face.
Lakshman moved past Rama and crouched beside the rishi. ‘This is where the last attack happened?’
‘Yes, rajkumar. The rakshasa snatched the young boy as he was collecting water at the stream nearby.’ Somashrava pointed back the way they had come, in the direction of the brook they had passed a few dozen yards back, within sight of the ashram walls. Neither the brook nor the wall was visible from here, though. ‘His screams caught my attention. I came running and tried to grab hold of the boy’s legs as he was being dragged away. But the demon was too strong. The boy screamed in agony, and his limbs would have been ripped apart had I held on. So I was forced to let go, and I attempted to strike the demon with my lathi.’ The rishi pointed at some fragments of wood lying nearby. They looked like splinters left over from wood-chopping. ‘As you can see, the creature simply caught the lathi in its teeth and shattered it to bits. Then it roared at me, as if it was taunting me to do anything further, swung around,’ Somashrava turned quickly, reliving the incident; Lakshman and Rama moved back to give him space, ‘and its tail rose up into the air and struck me a blow across my face. It knocked me all the way to … ‘ he ran to a sapling over twenty yards away, ‘this place. I fell unconscious. When I awoke, I found only these bloodstains spattered here by this peepal, and no sign of the monster or even a trail.’
Sita asked, ‘And that caused your skin to … change colour?’
Somashrava touched his discoloured face, now an angry reddish-brown. ‘Yes. Nothing will remove it, neither ayurvedic herbs or remedies, nor invocations and penance.’
And perhaps you are secretly proud of that
. For the rishi clearly wore the mark like a warrior’s wound now, an exterior symbol that revealed the inner rage that burned within him. Rage like that often didn’t end with revenge, Rama knew; it ate away at the person until he became a facsimile of the very thing he hated. But he kept his thoughts to himself. Somashrava had enough on his mind without needing unsolicited advice.
‘Very well, Somashrava,’ Rama said. ‘We will deal with this matter now. You may return to the ashram. Thank you for showing us the place where the demon was last seen.’
Somashrava hesitated. ‘I wish to stay with you here tonight. To help … hunt the beast.’
Rama saw Lakshman glance at him over the rishi’s shoulder. Lakshman shook his head once, meaningfully.
‘Rishi Somashrava,’ Rama said, ‘perhaps it is best if you leave this part to us. This will undoubtedly be a night fraught with great peril. My brother and I, as also my wife, are trained at the art of the hunt—’
‘So was I,’ Somashrava said quickly. ‘I was born in the Kshatriya varna, raised and trained in the calling of a Kashi spearman. But my father had sworn an oath to surrender his eldest son to the pursuit of Brahman. When my brother was killed in these woods by the same rakshasa, my father then sent me in his place, to fulfil the promise. He was visiting me once when he decided to try and hunt the rakshasa himself. He was killed as well.’
Rama raised his eyebrows. ‘The spearmen of Kashi are renowned across the Arya nations.’
Somashrava nodded proudly. ‘And I was a front-runner. I am in my fortieth year now. I trained until I was a score and five years. I was told I would be taken as an Indradhanush-man in another two years.’
Lakshman nodded slowly, impressed. The Indradhanush unit of Kashi was similar to the Vajra of Kosala, an elite fighting squad which hand-picked only the best of the best warriors. Rama re-assessed the Brahmin. This explained the man’s emotional demeanour, and the greater leeway Sage Agastya had allowed him.
Somashrava added quietly, ‘I heard my father’s screams after he was taken by the beast. They continued almost all of that night. The next day, I found parts of his body scattered across several miles.’
His tone was the opposite of anger. Now that action was finally being taken, he seemed calmer, more able to deal with the past. Rama saw Lakshman shrugging, deferring to him, and came to a decision.
‘In that case, you may stay, Somashrava,’ he said. ‘Another pair of eyes and hands is always welcome.’
***
Sita knew that smell. It was the fragrance of temple flowers. She had placed a garland like that around the deity of Sri, the Mother-Creator, every morning since she could recall. The smell of those saffron-hued blossoms was imprinted indelibly on her sense-memory. She sat up straighter. She was on a plain wooden platform on the peepal tree, one of two such that Lakshman and Rama and the rishi had rigged. Lakshman and Somashrava were on the other platform, while Rama and she sat on this one. Rama was behind her, facing the other way. They sat back to back, to cover every direction. She turned her head slightly, lowering her sword. She could feel the warmth of Rama’s breath on her cheek as he turned his head, sensing her movement. She knew better than to turn around or speak loudly, despite her certainty that the creature they were hunting was nearby.
‘Temple flowers,’ she whispered.
There was no response at first. Then Rama said softly, sounding perplexed, ‘Where? I don’t see them.’ He added, ‘Or smell them.’
She turned around fully then. It was so remarkable that Rama couldn’t smell the flowers, she couldn’t believe it. Was he teasing her? No. He wouldn’t do that. Rama took combat very seriously, she knew that already. Lakshman had sauntered and joked and chatted with Somashrava before nightfall, but Rama had grown deathly still and sober as the hours passed, almost as if he was preparing himself for the act of taking life yet again.
Because he doesn’t like killing. Even when it’s righteous
.