SITA’S SISTER (11 page)

‘In this prioritization of his emotions, you are always going to be second place, is that it?’ Mandavi asked indignantly. ‘And you accepted?’ she looked incredulous.

‘Yes,’ Urmila said calmly. ‘I love him too much to let him go. I love him too much and accept him with all his conditions. And I love myself too much to suffer again that misery of being without him. I am lost without him and I am ready to take what I am left with. That one moment when I thought he had forsaken me, was the worst and I wouldn’t ever want to relive it, whatever it takes—even subjugating myself! I experienced how harsh heartbreak can be…’ her eyes clouded with remembered pain. ‘It strips you of hope, pride, dignity, desire, trust and leaves nothing within you but just a dull, killing pain. I won’t be able to go through it again…I simply cannot live without him. I could not give him up,’ her shoulders drooped in silent defeat.

‘You are a proud woman, Urmi,’ said Kirti. ‘Will your love not affect your sense of pride, your self-preservation? Will you be able to live with yourself? How can you accept a man who has sacrificed himself for another? Where does it leave you?’

It was a series of questions for which Urmila had just one answer. ‘Nowhere. Just leaves me with a man I love who is not mine. If love is supposed to bring out the best in one, I rest my case.’

‘By giving up your self-respect?’ derided Mandavi. ‘How will you be able to accept this secondary status in his life?’

‘I have always known what secondary is—I have grown up with it!’ snapped Urmila and the moment she said those words, she regretted it. Sita had gone pale, her face transparent to not mask the hurt her irresponsible words had inflicted.

‘Sita, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it came out…’ Urmila stammered, begging profusely. ‘I was just trying to explain…’

‘…What it felt like to play second fiddle,’ Sita finished the sentence for her. ‘I know what you have gone through all these years—consistently sidelined to pave way for me. I was undeservedly adored.’

‘Don’t ever say that!’ Urmila retorted hotly. ‘You deserve all the affection, all the applause; you are so wonderfully good, darling, that we pale in comparison. We know that. And I don’t resent that.’

‘I know. That’s what makes it worse. You loved me doubly more instead!’ cried Sita. ‘I love mother, father and you but between the four of us love hasn’t been distributed equally, has it? They loved me too much for your too little, even though you are their blood daughter. You never did mind, never protested and the guilt kills me…’

Urmila was aghast—had she done that to her sister? Was loving too much unfair?

‘Don’t, Sita!’ she protested. ‘Why are you holding yourself responsible for something you did not do, something which really did not happen? You were favoured because of your goodness, for your qualities, not because you were the firstborn! Or because you were adopted,’ she added, realizing what was hurting her sister. ‘And neither was I in any way neglected or ignored. What I was trying to say was that I came second in chronology…’

‘No!’ Sita shook her head fiercely. ‘Secondary means being subsidiary. First it was our parents and now Lakshman! It is simply unjust!’

Urmila laughed lightly. ‘Now, dear, you are mixing issues. Lakshman was making clear his supreme loyalty to his elder brother and trying to make me understand their relationship. And it is in my best interest to understand and accept it,’ she added dryly.

‘No, knowing you, you will sensibly compartmentalize the love; you will never allow one to dominate the other,’ argued Sita.

‘I find this entire notion of grading and rating love odious!’ exclaimed Mandavi. ‘It’s demeaning.’

‘No, it is accepting a certain reality, knowing how and where you stand,’ shrugged Urmila. ‘Mother was trying to explain to us the same thing Lakshman was so convinced about. It is not about ranking love; it is about circumstances and situations. At every point, we need to choose between those whom we love. It is a constant conflict but that does not mean we love one less than the other.’

‘I understand what you are saying, Urmi,’ said Kirti sagely. ‘You would rather accept him for what he is, for what he can give, than lose him forever. But I appreciate his courage in being upfront and not mincing his words. Some may call it harsh; I say it was brutally honest. No one can accuse him of having set wrong expectations or misleading you. His intentions were entirely honourable. But good intentions are often not enough; however, you know what to expect now.’

Her last statement sounded oddly cryptic. Kirti, Urmila often observed, though the youngest of the sisters, was way mature beyond her fledgling years.

‘Expect what?’ repeated Mandavi.

‘Somehow what he said pertains not just to you, Urmi, I think it applies to all of us,’ Kirti said slowly, as if a new realization was slowly filtering into her.

‘And that is?’ prompted Mandavi, impatiently.

‘The unusually strong bond between the brothers, it’s like ours, we can’t do without each other either,’ remarked Kirti. ‘Is that why Vishwamitra suggested to King Dashrath that the four of us would be the perfect match for his four sons? It fits, doesn’t it? Even those warbled words we thought were a riddle were actually letting us on about the time to come…that all of us might face the same situation.’

‘You are scaring me, Kirti, what are you saying?’ cried Mandavi in restive exasperation.

‘The love between the four princes borders on devotion, especially the younger brothers’ dedication to Ram,’ she said. ‘They would do anything for him and vice versa. Lakshman’s devotion is more overt, more visible, because he wears it as an emblem. The others, I am sure, would do the same, if the situation arose. There is this infrangible thread of allegiance that binds them together, and now what Lakshman is warning Urmila of, can be true for us too, Mandavi,’continued Kirti grimly. ‘That if such a situation were to merge, where any of them would have to choose between his wife and the brother, it will be the brother they will opt for. It would do well if the wife always keeps this in mind.’

There was a long moment of subdued silence, each forced to face a new truth.

Urmila found a new meaning in Kirti’s sombre words. She was swamped with a dampening feeling of apprehension. Nuptials were supposed to spell mirth and merriment but theirs seem to be a series of chronic chaos. Barely had Urmila managed to steer hers in the clear, that it was Sita’s turn next.

Just when everyone was envying them their fairytale wedding, the royal priest, Shatanand, came in with some disturbing news. After perusing carefully the astrological charts of the four princes and princesses, he said everything was perfect but for one flaw. Ram, it seemed, had
mangaldosha
—the dominant influence of the planet Mars—in his horoscope which would not augur well for the marriage. The stout, brisk, old priest brusquely declared that it would be best to call off the wedding. That marriage, he warned, would bring mostly grief to Sita. His words, as expected, threw the family in a paralytic crisis.

Urmila had not seen her father look so devastated ever; he could not believe his ears. Janak greatly respected his royal priest and had an unfailing faith in his prophetic powers. But neither could he ignore the portentous significance of Ram stringing Rudra’s bow. He was convinced that Ram was destined for Sita. Just as Sita was for Ram. But the heavenly stars suddenly seemed to have gone against them, Urmila thought sourly. Sunaina was adamant about calling off the wedding. Janak was aghast—the groom’s father and brothers were to reach Mithila the next morning. With what face was he to greet them?

‘After what Rishi Shantanand has said, I refuse to take a chance with my daughter’s future,’ Sunaina told him resolutely, her lips thinning in an unhappy, straight line, a habit her daughter had inherited when she was particularly displeased. ‘We should tell them the truth and I am sure King Dashrath would understand. He would wish the best for his son too.’

‘Sita is the best thing for him, dear,’ countered her husband, frowning in consternation. ‘The Shiv bow is the proof, can’t you see? It got them together. You saw how many young men attempted to string that bow, and finally it was only Ram who could do it. They are meant to be!’

‘Then is the horoscope misleading? Don’t you believe in our priest? He is never wrong! How can you take the risk?’ his wife pleaded.

‘The priests claim that if there is a condition placed before marriage as in Sita’s swayamvar, the manglik dosha does not work. So rest assured, dear,’ cajoled the wise Janak, hoping his words would convince his worried wife.

Sunaina was a rational woman, but fear is not; it can capriciously attack the most reasonable person. The queen of Mithila was no exception. Irrational fear had morphed her into an implacable mother, protecting her child from seen and unforseen harm. She was impervious to anyone’s pleas, persuasion, requests or reason, Sita notwithstanding. But, to her consternation, it was Sita who opposed her the most fiercely.

‘I cannot think of marrying anyone else. I consider Ram my husband, my lifemate,’ she said quietly but her voice was hard and uncompromising, brooking no argument.

That is how Sita was, thought Urmila with an amused smile, at her characteristic strongest—brief and decisive. Urmila well knew her sister’s demureness was deceptive. Sita was like a peach—apparently soft and delicate but hard and strong from within. ‘But if you so insist that I do not marry Ram, I shan’t marry at all. I would rather remain unwed,’ she continued determinedly.

Sita said it firmly, in no uncertain terms, overriding any objection. Her mother could simply stare at her in open disbelief. Sita was her weakness and also the reason for her pride, a pride immense and inordinate. Sita could do no wrong, she was complete, without any fault or blemish.

‘And what if what the royal priest has said comes true?’ demanded her mother. ‘He also mentioned that though a princess, you will largely live in the forest for most of your married life. What does that mean? Do you want to be unhappily married to him? And suffer?’

‘I love him,’ Sita said simply, as if that was an answer to all the questions and doubts her mother was likely to raise. ‘If I am not with him, I shall be unhappy. I would suffer unimaginable misery. I have to marry him for myself, to make myself happy.’

Urmila was struck by her sister’s words. They sounded familiar, similar to what she had said to her sisters in justification of her decision to marry Lakshman. Both of them were in love, wanting to marry the men they loved. Were they making an unsuitable choice?

Falling in love was far easier than staying in love. Urmila recollected those tremulous, treacherous days. Would then, living in love be a trying tale of trials or of triumph?

Urmila had not revealed to her mother the conversation she had had with Lakshman. She could well imagine her mother’s reaction if she had. For the sake of her daughters’ happiness and well-being, Sunaina would have calmly broken off the wedding, social mores be damned. She did not believe in rules and did not agree that one’s behaviour needed to be governed by social conditions, customarily followed otherwise. She favoured a personal philosophy of individual progress and private freedom and choice. And that is where Sita had caught her—trapped her in her philosophy of personal liberty. She could not back off now.

Sunaina smiled wanly. ‘It is your decision,’ she murmured. It was a statement, not a question of which she knew the anticipated answer. ‘So be it. And may you have the conviction to mean what you say. And the moral strength to brave it out.’

Urmila silently took her mother’s advice though her mother was not aware she had given her one. She knew her mother’s admonitory words to Sita were pertinent for her as well.

Dashrath arrived with his two younger sons in Mithila early the next morning. Mandavi and Kirti, as was their daily routine, went to the temple but were clearly distracted. They wanted to see Bharat and Shatrughna in person before the wedding the next day. Their prayers were answered—they saw them at the very same place where Sita and Urmila had met their soulmates.