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Authors: Amish Tripathi

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BOOK: Scion of Ikshvaku
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‘That’s too much! We’re not so bad.’

Bharat laughed softly. ‘All I’m suggesting is that greatness and goodness is a potential in a majority of humans, not a reality.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Expecting people to follow rules just because they should is being too hopeful. Rules must be designed to dovetail with selfish interest because people are primarily driven by it. They need to be shepherded into good behaviour through this proclivity.’

‘People also respond to calls for greatness.’

‘No, they don’t,
Dada
. There may be a few who will answer that call. Most won’t.’

‘Lord Rudra led people selflessly, didn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ said Bharat. ‘But many who followed him had their own selfish interests in mind. That is a fact.’

Ram shook his head. ‘We’ll never agree on this.’

Bharat smiled. ‘Yes, we won’t. But I still love you!’

Ram smiled as well, changing the topic. ‘How was your holiday? I never get to speak with you when we are there…’

‘You know why,’ muttered Bharat. ‘But I must admit it was not too bad this time.’

Bharat loved to have his maternal relatives visit Ayodhya. It was an opportunity for him to escape his stern mother. Kaikeyi did not like his spending too much time with his brothers. In fact, if she could have her way, she would keep him to herself exclusively during the times when they were home. To make matters worse, she would insist on endless conversations about the need for him to be great and fulfil his mother’s destiny. The only people Kaikeyi did not mind sharing her son with were her own blood-family. The presence of his maternal grandparents and uncle on this holiday ensured that Bharat was free of his mother. He had spent practically the entire vacation in their indulgent company.

Ram punched Bharat playfully in his stomach. ‘She’s your mother, Bharat. She only wants what is best for you.’

‘I could do with some love instead,
Dada.
You know, I remember when I was three, I once dropped a glass of milk and she slapped me! She slapped me so hard, in the presence of her maids.’

‘You remember stuff from when you were three? I thought I was the only one who did.’

‘How can I forget? I was a little boy. The glass was too big for my hands. It was heavy; it slipped! That’s it! Why did she have to slap me?’

Ram understood his stepmother, Kaikeyi. She had her share of frustrations. She’d been the brightest child in her family. Unfortunately, her brilliance did not make her father proud. Quite the contrary, Ashwapati was unhappy that Kaikeyi outshone his son, Yudhaajit. It appalled Ram that society did not value capable women. And now, the intelligent yet frustrated Kaikeyi sought vicarious recognition through Bharat, her son. She aimed to realise her ambitions through him.

Ram held his counsel though.

Bharat continued, wistfully, ‘If only I had a mother like yours. She would have loved me unconditionally and not chewed my brains.’

Ram did not respond, but he got the feeling that something was playing on Bharat’s mind.

‘What is it, Bharat?’ asked Ram, without turning to look at his younger brother.

Bharat lowered his voice so that Lakshman and Shatrughan wouldn’t overhear. ‘Ram
Dada
, have you thought about what Guru
ji
said today?’

Ram held his breath.


Dada
?’ asked Bharat.

Ram stiffened. ‘This is treason. I refuse to entertain such thoughts.’

‘Treason? To think about the good of your country?’

‘He is our father! There are duties that we have—’

‘Do you think he’s a good king?’ Bharat interrupted.

‘There’s a law in the
Manu Smriti
that clearly states a son must—’

‘Don’t tell me what the law says,
Dada
,’ said Bharat, dismissing with a wave of his hand the laws recorded in the
Book of Manu
. ‘I have read the
Manu Smriti
too. I want to know what
you
think.’

‘I think the law must be obeyed.’

‘Really? Is that all you have to say?’

‘I can add to that.’

‘Please do!’

‘The law must
always
be obeyed.’

Bharat rolled his eyes in exasperation.

‘I understand that this might not work under a few exceptional circumstances,’ said Ram. ‘But if the law is obeyed diligently, come what may, then over a period of time a better society
has
to emerge.’

‘Nobody in Ayodhya gives two hoots about the law,
Dada
! We are a civilisation in an advanced state of decay. We’re the most hypocritical people on earth. We criticise corruption in others, but are blind to our own dishonesty. We hate others who do wrong and commit crimes, blithely ignoring our own misdeeds, big and small. We vehemently blame Raavan for all our ills, refusing to acknowledge that we created the mess we find ourselves in.’

‘And how will this change?’

‘This attitude is basic human nature. We’d rather look outward and blame others for the ills that befall us than point the finger at ourselves. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We need a king who can create systems with which one can harness even selfish human nature for the betterment of society.’


Nonsense.
We need a great leader, one who will lead by example. A leader who will inspire his people to discover their godhood within! We don’t need a leader who will leave his people free to do whatever they desire.’

‘No,
Dada
. Freedom is an ally, if used with wisdom.’

‘Freedom is never the ally of the law. You can have freedom to choose whether you want to join or leave a society based on the rule of law. But so long as you live in such a society, you must obey the law.’

‘The law is and always will be an ass. It’s a tool, a means to an end,’ said Bharat.

Ram brought the exchange to an end with a convivial laugh. Bharat grinned and patted his brother on his back.

‘So, all these things you say about a great leader being inspirational and enabling the discovery of the God within and other such noble things…’ said Bharat. ‘You think Father lives up to that ideal?’

Ram cast a reproachful look at his brother, refusing to rise to the bait.

Bharat grinned, playfully boxing Ram on his shoulder. ‘Let it be,
Dada
. Let it be.’

Ram was genuinely conflicted. But, as a dutiful son, he would not allow himself, even in his own mind, to entertain rebellious thoughts against his father.

Lakshman, walking a few steps behind, was engrossed in the frenetic activities of the jungle.

Shatrughan, however, was listening in on the conversation with keen interest.
Ram
Dada
is too idealistic. Bharat
Dada
is practical and real.

FlyLeaf.ORG

Chapter 7
FlyLeaf.ORG

Another one?
Ram refrained from voicing his thoughts, trying to control his surprise.
This is his fifth girlfriend.

Seventeen years had gone by since Dashrath lost the Battle of Karachapa. At the age of sixteen, Bharat had discovered the pleasures of love. Charismatic and flamboyant as he was, girls liked Bharat as much as he liked them. Tribal traditions being liberal, the empowered women of the tribe of Chief Varun, the local hosts of the
gurukul
, were free to form relationships with whomever they pleased. And Bharat was especially popular.

He walked up to Ram now, holding hands with an ethereally beautiful maiden who was clearly older than him, perhaps twenty years of age.

‘How are you, Bharat?’

‘Never been better,
Dada
,’ grinned Bharat. ‘Any better and it would be downright sinful.’

Ram smiled politely and turned to the girl with grace.


Dada
,’ said Bharat, ‘allow me to introduce Radhika, the daughter of Chief Varun.’

‘Honoured to make your acquaintance,’ said Ram, formally bringing his hands together in a polite namaste and bowing his head.

Radhika raised her eyebrows, amused. ‘Bharat was right. You are ridiculously formal.’

Ram’s eyes widened at her forthrightness.

‘I did not use the word “ridiculous”,’ protested Bharat, as he let her hand go. ‘How can I use a word like that for
Dada
?’

Radhika ruffled Bharat’s hair affectionately. ‘All right, “ridiculous” was my own addition. But I find your formality charming. So does Bharat, actually. But I’m sure you know that already.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ram, straightening his
angvastram
stiffly.

Radhika giggled at Ram’s obvious discomfort. Even Ram, relatively immune to feminine wiles, was forced to acknowledge that her laughter had a pleasing lilt, like that of the
apsaras
,
celestial nymphs
.

Ram said to Bharat, careful to speak in old Sanskrit so that Radhika wouldn’t understand, ‘
Saa Vartate Lavanyavati
.’

Though Bharat’s understanding of archaic Sanskrit was not as good as Ram’s, he understood the simple compliment. Ram had said,
‘She is exquisitely beautiful.’

Before Bharat could respond, Radhika spoke. ‘
Aham Jaanaami
.’

‘I know.’

An embarrassed Ram retorted, ‘By the great Lord Brahma! Your old Sanskrit is perfect.’

Radhika smiled. ‘We may speak new Sanskrit these days, but the ancient scriptures can only be understood in the old language.’

Bharat felt the need to cut in. ‘Don’t be fooled by her intelligence,
Dada
. She is also very beautiful!’

Ram smiled and brought his hands together once again, in a respectful namaste. ‘My apologies if I offended you in any way, Radhika.’

Radhika smiled, shaking her head. ‘No, you didn’t. Why would a girl not enjoy an elegant compliment to her beauty?’

‘My little brother is lucky.’

‘I’m not so unlucky myself,’ assured Radhika, ruffling Bharat’s hair once again.

Ram could see that his brother was besotted. Clearly, this time it was different; Radhika meant a lot more to him than his previous girlfriends. But he was also aware of the traditions of the forest people. Their girls, no doubt, were liberated, but they did not marry outside their community. Their law simply forbade it. Ram did not understand the reason for this. It could be an effort to retain the sense of purity of the forest people, or it might even be that they considered city dwellers inferior for having moved away from Mother Nature. He hoped his brother’s heart would not be broken in the process.

‘How much butter will you eat?!’ Ram could never quite understand Bharat’s addiction.

Evening time, the last hour of the third
prahar,
found Ram and Bharat relaxing under a tree at the
gurukul
. Lakshman and Shatrughan were using their free time for some riding practice; in fact, they were competing fiercely in the open ground. Lakshman, by far the best rider among the four, was beating Shatrughan hollow.

‘I like it,
Dada
,’ shrugged Bharat, butter smeared around his mouth.

‘But it’s unhealthy. It’s fattening!’

Bharat flexed his biceps as he sucked in his breath and puffed up his chest, displaying his muscular and well-toned physique. ‘Do I look fat to you?’

Ram smiled. ‘Girls certainly do not find you unappealing. So my opinion really is of no consequence.’

‘Exactly!’ Bharat chuckled, digging his hand into the clay pot and spooning some more butter into his mouth.

Ram gently put his hand on Bharat’s shoulder. Bharat stopped eating as he read the concerned look on his brother’s face.

Ram spoke softly. ‘Bharat, you do know—’

Bharat interrupted him immediately. ‘It won’t happen,
Dada
.’

‘But Bharat…’


Dada
, trust me. I know girls better than you do.’

‘You’re aware that Chief Varun’s people do not…’


Dada
, she loves me as much as I love her. Radhika will break the law for me. She will not leave me. Trust me.’

‘How can you be so sure?’


I am!

‘But Bharat…’


Dada
, stop worrying about me. Just be happy for me.’

Ram gave up and patted him on his shoulder. ‘Well then, congratulations!’

Bharat bowed his head theatrically, ‘Thank you, kind sir!’

Ram’s face broke into a broad smile.

‘When will I get the opportunity to congratulate
you
,
Dada
?’ asked Bharat.

Ram looked at Bharat and frowned.

‘Aren’t you attracted to any girl? Here or in Ayodhya? We have met so many on our annual holidays…’

‘Nobody is worth it.’

‘Nobody?’

‘No.’

‘What are you looking for?’

Ram looked into the distance at the forest line. ‘I want a woman, not a girl.’

‘Aha! I always knew there was a naughty devil behind that serious exterior!’

Ram rolled his eyes and punched Bharat playfully on his abdomen. ‘That’s not what I meant. You know that.’

‘Then what did you mean?’

‘I don’t want an immature girl. Love is secondary. It’s not important. I want someone whom I can respect.’

‘Respect?’ frowned Bharat. ‘Sounds boring.’

‘A relationship is not just for fun, it is also about trust and the knowledge that you can depend on your partner. Relationships based on passion and excitement do not last.’

‘Really?’

Ram quickly corrected himself. ‘Of course, Radhika and you will be different.’

‘Of course,’ grinned Bharat.

‘I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want a woman who is better than I am; a woman who will compel me to bow my head in admiration.’

‘You bow to elders and parents,
Dada
. A wife is the one you share your life and passions with,’ said Bharat, a crooked grin on his face, brows arched suggestively. ‘By the great Lord Brahma, I pity the woman you will marry. Your relationship will go down in history as the most boring of them all!’

Ram laughed aloud as he pushed Bharat playfully. Bharat dropped the pot and pushed Ram back, then sprang to his feet and sprinted away from Ram.

‘You can’t outrun me, Bharat!’ laughed Ram, quickly rising to his feet and taking off after his brother.

‘Whom do you favour?’ asked the visitor.

A mysterious stranger had made a quiet entry into the
gurukul
. In keeping with Vashishta’s desire to maintain the secrecy of this visit, he’d arrived late in the night. As luck would have it, the intrepid Lakshman was out riding at the same time, having broken the rule of being in the sleeping quarters at this time of the night. As he traced his way back, he came upon an unknown horse tied discreetly to a tree far from the
ashram
premises.

He led his own animal quietly back into the stable. The Ayodhyan prince then decided to inform his guru of a possible intruder. On finding Vashishta’s room empty, Lakshman grew suspicious. Unable to contain himself, he decided to investigate the goings-on. He finally spotted the sage under the bridge, conversing softly with the mysterious visitor. Lakshman crept close, hid behind the bushes, and eavesdropped on the conversation. ‘I haven’t made up my mind as yet,’ answered Vashishta.

‘You need to decide quickly, Guru
ji
.’

‘Why?’

Though unable to see the visitor clearly, Lakshman was barely able to contain the panic rising within him. Even the failing light couldn’t conceal the stranger’s unnaturally fair skin, giant size and rippling musculature. His body was covered with fur-like hair, and a peculiar outgrowth emerged from his lower back. Clearly he was a dangerous Naga, the mysterious race of the deformed, which was feared in all of the Sapt Sindhu. He made no attempt to conceal his identity, like most Nagas did, with a face mask or a hooded robe. Notably, his lower body was draped in a
dhoti
, in keeping with traditional Indian custom.

‘Because
they
are on to you,’ said the Naga, with a meaningful look.

‘So?’

‘Are you not afraid?’

Vashishta shrugged. ‘Why should I be?’

The Naga laughed softly. ‘There’s a thin line that separates courage from stupidity.’

‘And that line is only visible in retrospect, my friend. If I’m successful, people will call me brave. If I fail, I will be called foolish. Let me do what I think is right. I’ll leave the verdict to the future.’

The Naga thrust his chin forward in a show of disagreement, but gave up the argument. ‘What would you have me do?’

‘Nothing for now. Just wait,’ answered Vashishta.

‘Are you aware that Raavan is—’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘And you still choose to remain here and not do anything?’

‘Raavan…’ murmured Vashishta, choosing his words carefully, ‘well, he has his uses.’

Lakshman could barely control his shock. Yet, the teenager had the presence of mind to stay silent.

‘There are some who are convinced you are preparing for a rebellion against Emperor Dashrath,’ said the Naga, his tone clearly indicating his disbelief.

Vashishta laughed softly. ‘There is no need to rebel against him. The kingdom is practically out of his hands anyway. He’s a good man, but he has sunk into the depths of depression and defeatism. My goal is bigger.’

‘Our goal,’ corrected the Naga.

‘Of course,’ smiled Vashishta, patting him on his shoulder. ‘Forgive me. It is our collective goal. But if people insist on thinking that our ambitions are limited to Ayodhya, I suggest we let them be.’

‘Yes, that’s true.’

‘Come with me,’ said Vashishta. ‘I have something to show you.’

Lakshman let out a deep breath as the two men walked away. His heart was pounding desperately.

What is Guru
ji
up to? Are we safe here?

Checking carefully that the coast was clear, Lakshman slipped away and rushed to Ram’s quarters.

BOOK: Scion of Ikshvaku
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