SITA’S SISTER (18 page)

‘Mandavi and Kirti are leaving without meeting me?!’ she exclaimed.

‘There wasn’t much time, everything was so rushed and unexpected. They must have left by now…’

‘Oh, but I must meet them! I have to! They can’t leave…’ she got up agitatedly, throwing the brushes down in a noisy clatter.

‘Mila, wait!’

But she was already out of the room, rushing down the stairs towards the left wing of the palace, the residence of Mandavi. She was running now, past astonished looks, verandas and passageways. Suddenly the way to her sister’s palace seemed too long. All she could think of was to meet her sisters before they left for Kekeya, thousands of miles from Ayodhya. She would not be able to see them for months together. She was breathless when she reached the flagstoned portico of Bharat’s palace. They were nowhere in sight. Had they left? Was she too late?

She looked around desperately, catching sight of the royal minister, Sumantra. ‘The younger princes just left for Kekeya, princess, on the swiftest horses we have,’ he informed diligently.

‘And the princesses?’ she asked hopefully.

‘They left almost immediately in the chariots with the soldiers.’

Her heart sank. She turned back, walking slowly to her room, the world suddenly turning grey and dull. Urmila wanted to weep, more out of frustration. She hadn’t been able to speak with her cousins before their departure and did not know when she would get a chance to do that next. This thought flooded her with a sudden, constricting sense of desolation. She was used to them going away for brief visits to Varanasi to visit their father, her uncle Khushadwaj, for vacations, but this time it was different; they had gone without even a goodbye. She could not forget the unkind words Mandavi and she had last exchanged and she felt more miserable, feeling the prick of hot tears behind her eyes.

She met Lakshman in the hallway, just outside their chamber.

‘Mila, what’s the matter?’

One look at her crumpled face, and Lakshman guessed what must have happened. She had not been able to see off her sisters. And she had taken it badly.

Seeing him and hearing the anxious urgency in his voice, Urmila could not control herself, the anxiety of the last few days threatened to burst through a flood of tears. Her shoulders sagged and she found herself going to him, in his arms, her head resting on his chest.

He held her close in the comforting circle of his arms for a long while, her face buried wet against his chest. Urmila did tend to cry easily, but it was often in frustration or a bout of temper, rarely grief or hurt; those were too private to be revealed. She could handle the biggest crises but it was the little irritants that moved her to angry tears. These silent tears reminded him of her weeping—disconsolately and alone—in the forest soon after he had heartlessly spurned her. She was not crying with the same anguished abandonment that had wrenched his heart and conscience, but she was crushed with some grief that he did not know of. Clearly, it concerned her sisters.

‘Hey, they’ll come back soon…they haven’t gone forever!’ he said softly, removing the pin from her hair comb and running his fingers through the long mane that had cascaded down. ‘Granted, Kekaya is very far off, but I think they should return within a month.’

‘I guess I am overreacting…and see what you have done! I will have to tie my hair again!’ she sniffled, slowly regaining her composure, even looking slightly embarrassed. ‘It’s not as silly as it sounds but we had an awful altercation some days ago and things have been getting worse between us…and now that she is gone, I can’t resolve the matter for a long, long time!’

‘A squabble?’ he looked surprised. ‘But knowing you, you would have apologized quickly, the peacemaker that you essentially are. And no, that’s not a compliment!’

He saw her smile mirthlessly.

‘…And that you haven’t managed to do so, is a matter of concern. Do you want to tell me about it?’ he asked quietly.

With much deliberation, she recounted all that had gone wrong between the sisters. At the end of her tale, Lakshman looked equally grim.

‘Why didn’t you tell me before when I caught Manthara right here last time?’

‘What could you have done?’ she countered helplessly. ‘I thought it was between us sisters and we would be able to solve it soon enough. I didn’t want to come to you with our little fights and problems…’

‘This
is
serious,’ he shook his head. ‘The old maid is back to her old ways, and clearly has done more damage than imagined,’ he said darkly. ‘I’ll look into that, but of course, a misunderstanding is best cleared with immediate communication.’

‘But she refuses to even talk to us! She has been avoiding us since that day!’

‘Either she is still angry and hurt…or she is ashamed,’ he said slowly.

‘But she behaved so because she was subjected to a cunning manipulation forcing her to think otherwise!’

‘Exactly! She realizes that and hates herself for it. And possibly could not bear facing all of you?’

Urmila’s frown cleared and her face broke into a small, relieved smile; she was amazed at his perspicacity. He barely knew Mandavi but he had gauged the situation correctly. She saw a new side of him; his astute intelligence manifested in his insight and acumen to draw sound conclusions. And also that side of him which made her talk to him about her insecurities freely, understanding her vulnerability as no one had. With a pang, she knew she loved him completely. That every moment she shared with him, got her closer to him, each fulfilling and consummate.

‘Mila, now I hope and pray you don’t ever regret that your husband can never be king?’ he grinned. Her seriousness saddened him, and he wanted to tease her out of it, hoping to make her smile again.

‘You know I would love you madly even if you were a wandering mendicant!’ she lightly punched his shoulder. ‘And considering your wise snides, you would well handle the department of law and justice or be the devil’s advocate—you are better with words than feelings!’ she retorted with a laugh. ‘Do you brothers, too, have such disagreements?’ she asked the question the answer of which she had been so eager to know.

‘Of course, we do!’ he shrugged. ‘But yes, it strictly remains between us—that has been the mutual understanding right since we were little, boisterous boys! Shatrughna and I, being peas of the same pod, always react furiously to crisis. We are more emotive. Ram is the thinker, always fair and thinking of the effect and the result, hardly of the causes. Bharat is the calmest and gentlest. But he would make an implacable enemy because he never forgets, never forgives. Both of us, especially, often see the situation differently but the trust and respect we have for each other invariably dissipates the tension.’

Urmila understood, their close bond was characterised by an unusual rationality based on mutual comprehension, discernment and empathy. She had learnt to accept that Lakshman was Ram’s eternal companion, his alter ego, but watching the two brothers, it became visible to both Sita and her that Ram could not do without Lakshman either. Lakshman seemed to be an extension of Ram—his brother, fellow, friend and confidant. Ram trusted and loved Lakshman the most, even more than Sita, Urmila sometimes suspected. Like her, Sita knew this and accepted it with dignified grace.

‘But I guess it depends on the circumstances too,’ continued Lakshman solemnly. ‘Ours brought us together. What could have created a fracture in the family, has instead, strengthened us; Manthara and her devious designs being one of them. She tried her very best to create a rift between us but we saw through her, by default through our mothers, who could not handle it well between themselves,’ he said.

The mood had subtly changed. It was he who was more sombre, wanting to talk but hesitating to reveal further. Urmila slipped her hand in his, prompting him with a gentle ‘Yes?’ It was more a push than a query; she knew what he was going to say but he was discussing his inner turmoil with her for the first time. He held her hand, rubbing his thumb abstractly over her inner wrist.

‘It has been difficult for all of us growing up with mothers who resent each other,’ he admitted with a long sigh. ‘Matters were more volatile between Ma Kausalya and Ma Kaikeyi—my mother tried to be a mediator but she ended up being neither here nor there. Now she prefers being neutral; not that her opinions matter anyway,’ he said dryly. ‘And it is in this power struggle between the two queens that Ram and Bharat got inevitably caught and still do. That’s what Manthara was trying to feed into Mandavi’s mind, that it was Ram versus Bharat. Sadly, it is.’

‘And it doesn’t affect them?’

‘No. Because it is not in their minds, it’s on the minds of their mothers and probably some others. Ma Kausalya wants her son to be king. So does Father but the promise he gave Aswapati is making him anxious. Besides, Ma Kaikeyi is his favourite wife. But Ram is his favourite son. He adores both of them. It is not going to be easy…that is why he keeps having those nightmares that are giving him sleepless nights. He is in a quandary. But none of us will ever, ever go against each other,’ he said it with a savage passion. ‘We have seen it happening with our mothers, we do not wish to repeat it, relive it, ever.’

Little did he know that he said it sooner than he imagined the situation to take a turn for the worse.

It had been a week since Mandavi and Kirti had left for Kekeya, and Urmila was feeling their stark absence. Sita was often with Kausalya or in the kitchen polishing her culinary interest with Kaikeyi and Manthara, both excellent cooks. She barely had time to chat with her. Lakshman was with Ram, busy with the arrangement of the raj sabha to be convened that day. All the ministers, neighbouring kings and political allies would be present for it.

This left Urmila with a lot of time to indulge in her twin pursuits: studying and painting. She had no desire to join her sister in the royal kitchen. She was happier wielding the brush than the ladle: a fact that did not endear her to many here. Kitchens were too hot and noisy and a simmering cauldron for gossip. And with Manthara around, it was bound to get spicier. There, she grimaced, she was thinking of the trivial and could not concentrate on her work. She was glad to put aside her brushes when Lakshman entered the room.

He came up to her and promptly removed the hairpin from her coiled coif, undoing it to make her hair come tumbling down. It had become his established custom, his gesture of affection she had got used to so well. And each time, he made it an intimate, sensual gesture, his eyes roaming possessively as her hair cascaded down. ‘You know that I cannot roam around with my hair loose, it’s socially unacceptable!’ she sighed, picking up the hairpin to tie her hair again. But he held her hand.

‘Don’t. Whenever I get time to catch a glimpse of you through the rushed day, I’d like to see you with your hair wild and flowing. That is when I get my Mila back, not the Urmila of the world.’

Urmila did not argue; he was all smiles. ‘Father just announced at the raj sabha that Ram will be crown prince. It was a unanimous decision, of course,’ he said. ‘The ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow.’

‘What?’ Urmila sounded incredulous. ‘So soon? But why this unprecedented haste?’ she looked as bewildered as she must have sounded.

‘It’s father. He insists on having it tomorrow morning. It’s the month of Chaitra and he wishes no further delay.’

‘But…Bharat and Shatrughna are away. And should he not invite King Aswapati, my father and Shanta for such an important function? Why the hurry?’ she persisted. ‘Or is it because he is making the most of Bharat’s absence?’ she prodded shrewdly.

‘Yes, like he possibly orchestrated the old king’s ill health from here!’ he said laconically.

‘Don’t waste your sarcasm on me, just let me know what’s happening!’ she retorted.

‘Mila, there’s not much time. Everything’s a flurry and here you are cross-examining me as if there is a plot afoot!’ he flared irritably. ‘I had come here to inform you that you are to prepare Sita for the ceremony. Ram and she will be fasting today and there are a whole lot of formalities to be completed…’

‘That’ll be done,’ she replied, still ruffled. ‘It’s not that I am not happy about the news as you seem to suspect but the abruptness of it is certainly shocking!’

‘Father has been having these ominous dreams since the last few weeks and he is thoroughly shaken and troubled by them,’ Lakshman looked perturbed. ‘You make it sound like a cold-blooded plan. It is not. He’s worried sick. He is scared that he might die soon and he wants to coronate Ram as crown prince before any tragedy befalls. These are the fears of an old, troubled father, Mila, not a plot. Do you think Ram is not worthy to become king?’

‘How can you think that?’ she said indignantly. ‘I was just taken aback by the headlong haste. To an outsider, it would seem like a scheming plot. Does Ma Kaikeyi know about this?’ she said slowly.

‘No. Not yet. Ram just informed me and Ma Kausalya. Sita and my mother were present there too. The haste seems unprecedented but for once I agree with Father—the yuvraj’s coronation has to be done quickly. I, for one, want it to happen as early as possible.’