Scion of Ikshvaku (37 page)

Shurpanakha sniggered. ‘So the great descendant of Raghu lets his wife make decisions for him, is it?’

Vibhishan touched Shurpanakha’s hand lightly and she fell silent. ‘Queen Sita,’ said Vibhishan, ‘you will notice that only the handles have come here. The axe-head is in Lanka. We are truly like you. Please help us.’

Shurpanakha turned to Jatayu. It had not escaped her notice that, as usual, every man was gaping intently at her; every man, that is, except Ram and Lakshman. ‘Great Malayaputra, don’t you think it is in your interest to give us refuge? We could tell you more about Lanka than you already know. There will be more gold in it for you.’

Jatayu stiffened. ‘We are the followers of Lord Parshu Ram! We are not interested in gold.’

‘Right…’ said Shurpanakha, sarcastically.

Vibhishan appealed to Lakshman. ‘Wise Lakshman, please convince your brother. I’m sure you will agree with me when I say that we can be of use to you in your fight when you get back.’

‘I could agree with you, Prince of Lanka,’ said Lakshman, smiling, ‘but then we would both be wrong.’

Vibhishan looked down and sighed.

‘Prince Vibhishan,’ said Ram, ‘I am truly sorry but—’

Vibhishan interrupted Ram. ‘Son of Dashrath, remember the battle of Mithila. My brother Raavan is your enemy. He is my enemy as well. Shouldn’t that make you my friend?’

Ram kept quiet.

‘Great King, we have put our lives at risk by escaping from Lanka. Can’t you let us be your guests for a while? We will leave in a few days. Remember what the
Taitreya Upanishad
says:
“Athithi Devo Bhava”.
Even the many
Smritis
say that the strong should protect the weak. All we are asking for is shelter for a few days. Please.’

Sita looked at Ram. A law had been invoked. She knew what was going to happen next. She knew Ram would not turn them away now.

‘Just a few days,’ pleaded Vibhishan. ‘Please.’

Ram touched Vibhishan’s shoulder. ‘You can stay here for a few days; rest for a while, and then continue on your journey.’

Vibhishan folded his hands together into a namaste and said, ‘Glory to the great clan of Raghu.’

‘I think that spoilt princess fancies you,’ said Sita.

Ram and Sita sat alone in their room in the second hour of the fourth
prahar
, having just finished their evening meal. Shurpanakha had complained bitterly about the food that Sita had cooked that day. Sita had told her to remain hungry if the food was not to her liking.

Ram shook his head, his eyes clearly conveying he thought this was silly. ‘How can she, Sita? She knows I’m married. Why should she find me attractive?’

Sita lay down next to her husband on the bed of hay. ‘You should know that you are more attractive than you realise.’

Ram frowned and laughed. ‘Nonsense.’

Sita laughed as well and put her arms around him.

The guests had been staying in Panchavati with the forest-dwellers for a week now. They had not been troublesome at all, except for the Lankan princess. However, Lakshman and Jatayu remained suspicious of the Lankans. They had disarmed the visitors on the first day itself, and locked up their weapons in the camp armoury. They also maintained a strict but discreet and staggered twenty-four-hour vigil, keeping a constant watch on the guests.

Having stayed awake the previous night with his sword and warning conch shell ready by his side, a tired Lakshman had slept through the morning. He awoke in the afternoon to observe unusual activity in the camp.

As he stepped out of the hut, he came upon Jatayu and the Malayaputras emerging from the armoury with the Lankan weapons. Vibhishan and his party were ready to leave. Having collected their weaponry, they waited for Shurpanakha, who had gone to the Godavari to bathe and get ready. She had requested Sita to accompany her, for help with her clothes and hair. Sita was happy to finally be rid of the troublesome diva whose demands in this simple jungle camp were never-ending. She had readily agreed to this last request.

‘Thank you for all your help, Prince Ram,’ said Vibhishan.

‘It was our pleasure.’

‘And may I request you and your followers to not reveal to anyone where we are headed?’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you,’ said Vibhishan, folding his hands into a namaste.

Ram looked towards the dense forest line, beyond which lay the Godavari. He expected his wife Sita and Vibhishan’s sister Shurpanakha to emerge from that direction any moment now.

Instead, a loud female scream emanated from the forest. Ram and Lakshman cast a quick glance at each other and then moved rapidly in the direction of the sound. They came to a standstill as Sita emerged from the woods, tall, regal but dripping wet and furious. She dragged a struggling Shurpanakha mercilessly by her arm. The Lankan princess’ hands had been securely tied.

Lakshman immediately drew his sword, as did everyone else present. The younger prince of Ayodhya was the first to find his voice. Looking at Vibhishan accusingly, he demanded, ‘What the hell is going on?’

Vibhishan couldn’t take his eyes off the two women. He seemed genuinely shocked for a moment, but quickly gathered his wits and replied. ‘What is your sister-in-law doing to my sister? She is the one who has clearly attacked Shurpanakha.’

‘Stop this drama!’ shouted Lakshman. ‘
Bhabhi
would not do this unless your sister attacked her first.’

Sita walked into the circle of people and let go of Shurpanakha. The Lankan princess was clearly livid and out of control. Vibhishan immediately rushed to his sister, drew a knife and cut the ropes that bound her. He whispered something into her ear. Lakshman couldn’t be sure what Vibhishan said, but it sounded like ‘Quiet’.

Sita turned to Ram and gestured towards Shurpanakha, as she held out some herbs in the palm of her hand. ‘That pipsqueak Lankan stuffed this in my mouth as she pushed me into the river!’

Ram recognised the herbs. It was normally used to make people unconscious before conducting surgeries. He looked at Vibhishan, his piercing eyes red with anger. ‘What is going on?’

Vibhishan stood up immediately, his manner placatory. ‘There has obviously been some misunderstanding. My sister would never do something like that.’

‘Are you suggesting that I imagined her pushing me into the water?’ asked Sita, aggressively.

Vibhishan stared at Shurpanakha, who had also stood up by now. He seemed to be pleading with her to stay quiet. But the message was clearly lost on the intended recipient.

‘That is a lie!’ screeched Shurpanakha. ‘I didn’t do anything like that!’

‘Are you calling me a liar?’ growled Sita.

What happened next was so sudden that very few had the time to react. With frightening speed, Shurpanakha reached to her side and drew her knife. Lakshman, who was standing to the left of Sita, saw the quick movement and rushed forward, screaming, ‘
Bhabhi!
’

Sita quickly moved in the opposite direction to avoid the strike. In that split second, Lakshman lunged forward and banged into a charging Shurpanakha, seizing both her arms and pushing her back with all his force. The elfin princess of Lanka went flying backwards, her own hand, which held the knife, striking her face as she crashed into the Lankan soldiers who stood transfixed behind her. The knife struck her face horizontally, cutting deep into her nose. It fell from her hand as she lay sprawled on the ground, the shock having numbed any sensation of pain. As blood gushed out alarmingly, her conscious mind asserted control and the horror of it all reverberated through her being. She touched her face and looked at her blood-stained hands. She knew she would be left with deep scars on her face. And that painful surgeries would be required to remove them.

She screeched with savage hate and lunged forward again, this time going for Lakshman. Vibhishan rushed to her and caught hold of his maddened sister.

‘Kill them!’ screamed Shurpanakha in agony. ‘Kill them all!’

‘Wait!’ pleaded Vibhishan, stricken with visceral fear. He knew they were outnumbered. He didn’t want to die. And he feared something even worse than death. ‘Wait!’

Ram held up his left hand, his fist closed tight, signalling his people to stop but be on guard. ‘Leave now, prince. Or there will be hell to pay.’

‘Forget what we were told!’ screeched Shurpanakha. ‘Kill them all!’

Ram spoke to a clearly stunned Vibhishan, who held on to a struggling Shurpanakha for all he was worth. ‘Leave now, Prince Vibhishan.’

‘Retreat,’ whispered Vibhishan.

His soldiers began stepping back, their swords still pointed in the direction of the forest-dwellers.

‘Kill them, you coward!’ Shurpanakha lashed out at her brother. ‘I am your sister! Avenge me!’

Vibhishan dragged a flailing Shurpanakha, his eye on Ram, mindful of any sudden movement.

‘Kill them!’ shouted Shurpanakha.

Vibhishan continued to pull his protesting sister away as the Lankans left the camp and escaped from Panchavati.

Ram, Lakshman and Sita stood rooted to their spot. What had happened was an unmitigated disaster.

‘We cannot stay here anymore,’ Jatayu stated the obvious. ‘We don’t have a choice. We need to flee,
now
.’

Ram looked at Jatayu.

‘We have shed Lankan royal blood, even if it is that of the royal rebels,’ said Jatayu. ‘According to their customary law, Raavan has no choice but to respond. It would be the same among many Sapt Sindhu royals as well, isn’t it? Raavan will come. Have no doubt about that. Vibhishan is a coward, but Raavan and Kumbhakarna aren’t. They will come with thousands of soldiers. This will be worse than Mithila. There it was a battle between soldiers; a part and parcel of war; they understood that. But here it is personal. His sister, a member of his family, has been attacked. Blood was shed. His honour will demand retribution.’

Lakshman stiffened. ‘But I didn’t attack her. She—’

‘That’s not how Raavan will see it,’ interrupted Jatayu. ‘He will not quibble with you over the details, Prince Lakshman. We need to run. Right now.’

Around thirty warriors sat together in a small clearing in the forest, briskly shovelling food into their mouths. They appeared to be in a tearing hurry. All of them were dressed alike: a long brownish-black cloak covered their bodies, held together across the waist by a thick cord. The cloaks could not conceal the fact that each carried a sword. The men were all unnaturally fair-skinned, an unusual sight in the hot plains of India. Their hooked noses, neatly beaded full beards, sharp foreheads, lengthy locks emerging from under square white hats, and drooping moustaches made it clear who these people were: Parihans.

Pariha was a fabled land beyond the western borders of India. It was the land that was home to the previous Mahadev, Lord Rudra.

The most intriguing member of this motley group was its leader, clearly a Naga. He too was fair-skinned, just like the Parihans. But in every other respect, he stood apart from them. He was not dressed like them. He was, in fact, dressed like an Indian: in a
dhoti
and
angvastram
, both dyed saffron. An outgrowth jutted out from his lower back, almost like a tail. It flapped in constant rhythm, as though it had a mind of its own. The hirsute Naga leader of the Parihans was very tall. His massive build and sturdy musculature gave him an awe-inspiring presence and a godly aura. He could probably break an unfortunate’s back with his bare hands. Unlike most Nagas, he did not cover his face with a mask or his body with a hooded robe.