SITA’S SISTER (7 page)

It took about three days for the messenger of Janak to reach Ayodhya to confer the good news. Dashrath promptly sent back a message expressing his delight over the happy turn of events. And it took another three days for the messenger to return to Mithila bringing back the reply from Ayodhya. Those six days were perhaps the longest, the most confusing, and the most defining days in Urmila’s life.

Urmila could not escape her sisters’ persistently probing questions. ‘You scarcely let any of us know of your feelings for Ram’s brother,’ Sita started in an openly accusatory tone. ‘While here I was pouring my heart out about myself and Ram, you preferred to keep it all locked up as some secret…’ She looked visibly hurt.

‘You were too upset yourself,’ Urmila riposted with a tired smile. But she was taken aback; had she been so transparent about her feelings for him? She had been fantasizing and fretting about Lakshman for the last so many days and now her sisters seemed to be all aware of her clandestine ruminations. ‘But what makes you think…’ she started indignantly.

‘Not think, believe! And for all his scowls and chilly silence, he seems to have eyes only for you. Everyone here can see that except you!’ snorted Sita derisively. ‘He clearly likes you a lot!’

‘Like? Now that would be the tamest understatement! Lakshman is quite besotted by her!’ squealed Kirti in glee. ‘All through the swayamvar I couldn’t help but observe those intense looks that both of them kept trading! Not to miss how both came to each other’s rescue at the nick of time. If that’s not love, what is?’ she sighed. ‘Urmi, you can’t deny that! Sita, when you met Ram in our garden, both of you enjoyed an immediate mutual attraction. At that very same time, what we didn’t realize though, was that much was the same with these two as well! Even before your swayamvar, Sita, they must have engaged in a silent, for-your-eyes-only-courtship that we failed to notice. It was you and Ram who well occupied our mind and attention, but I think the next potential couple are Urmila and Lakshman—long before we could ever imagine them marrying!’

Mandavi refrained from adding to the chaffing banter. She gave Urmila a long, hard look; Urmila’s strained smile hid some inner conflict which she was not yet willing to divulge. For all her freely vented bluster and bravado, Mandavi knew that Urmila rarely revealed her intimate sentiments. You could almost call her secretive, masking her feelings beautifully lest anyone intrude into her inmost realm of hidden thoughts. It was a defence Urmila had evolved since childhood.

She could sense Urmila’s anxious embarrassment. Urmila, who otherwise possessed a liberal sense of humour and was a sporting victim of relentless bouts of teasing, looked ill at ease. If Urmila’s current discomfiture was anything to go by, it must be because of some strain. She was tense but she did not want to show it.

‘What perfect marriage mediators the two of you are!’ Mandavi interceded, coming to Urmila’s rescue. ‘What about me, dears? Don’t count me out. I am the same age as Urmi, so at the correct eligible age too! But I refuse to be silly and fall in love like Sita dearest. I would much prefer a handsome prince served to me on a platter—his kingdom, horses, palaces and gems, his good looks, passion and all! All I would have to do is garland my perfect prince. No falling in love for me, it’s too much heartache, too many tears!’ she shrugged airily.

‘Hmm, you are too headstrong and hard-hearted to fall in love,’ agreed Kirti scoffingly but there was no spite in her words. ‘But let’s hope you never have to take back these very words!’

Sita looked impatiently at all of them. ‘So, shall I tell Ram and Father and ask them to do the needful?’ she asked sweetly of Urmila, her eyes shining with a sudden hope. ‘Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful? A double wedding…think of it! And we’ll always be together…two sisters marrying two brothers! It couldn’t get better! Oh, Urmi, I am so very, very happy for you—and for myself! It’s the happiest day of my life…I was dreading that I shall have to leave you, Urmi, but now I’ll have both my favourite people around me forever!’

Beaming with unconcealed joy, she hugged her younger sister tightly and long, as if to never let her go. Urmila could feel the joy bubbling inside Sita and did not have the heart to diffuse the euphoria. She might be sure of her feelings for Lakshman but she was still not certain of his reciprocation, whatever the sanguine claims of her moony-eyed sisters. Urmila felt a hot flush up her neck; she could still feel the heat of his look. How it made her blush and shiver with pleasure. It was like a wave: drowning and drenching her in its passionate whirl and leaving her bereft in anticipation as it ebbed. She was still unsure about him. That self-doubting, niggling fear did not seem to leave her, settling as a tight knot in the deepest corner of her heart.

After the swayamvar, Ram had settled in beautifully with the family, his charm disarming, his affection infectious. In an odd way, Urmila found both her elder sister and Ram incredibly alike. A single definition could well describe them both. They were both good-natured, friendly, and always cheerful. Their love was true and unhampered by false pride and self-importance. Urmila watched fondly as she saw them smiling, chatting and laughing together.

Were she and Lakshman also alike in temperament just like Ram and Sita? Sita’s gentle spirit enhanced, by contrast, Urmila’s fiery, contentious nature and Urmila recognized a similar parallel between these brothers as well—Ram’s eager friendliness and good nature counterbalanced Lakshman’s stiff hauteur. Mercifully, Ram and Sita were spared the common affliction that both she and Lakshman suffered and shared—the prickly egotism that stopped them from expressing their feelings for each other.

She was always very physically aware of his presence around her—his voice, his searing looks and his scent—even when he was standing a far distance away, cold, aloof and stern-faced. It left her with a cold anxiety; had she, after all, just imagined all that was said and unsaid through those deep, unfathomable silences? Were those torrid, stifling looks that left her breathless merely a fabrication of her fervid mind?

She saw him chatting with his brother a little distance away near the deserted pathway leading to the woods. He threw back his head and laughed. It was a rare, delicious sight. He had a nice laugh. And a nice, strong neck. Urmila had attempted desperately for some civil conversation but each time he had firmly thrust her away. She did not know whether to feel amused or affronted.

She approached him slowly. He was alone again, Ram leaving his brother’s company for Sita’s. Pursing her lips in slight displeasure, she politely handed him a cool glass of lemonade and played the good host. He took the glass and their hands touched; she felt a jolt of hot pleasure and withdrew her trembling hands but he held on, looking steadily into her eyes. Surprisingly, it calmed her and she could say what she had been meaning to tell him since the day of the swayamvar. She had yet not thanked him for rescuing her that day. ‘I cannot thank you enough…’ she said, trying to break the ice, ‘…for what you did. Had it not been for you, the angry suitors would have reacted even more violently. I shudder to think what might have happened…’

‘I didn’t do much—I was just letting them know that they were depriving my brother of the chance he was entitled to,’ Lakshman cut her off curtly. ‘And if it is about showing gratitude, I guess I am obliged to do the same. Princess, your ingenuousness managed to avert a bloody confrontation between me and the great Parshuram. You saved me from his terrible wrath and I am still alive today. You saved my life and I am eternally indebted!’ he drawled languidly, in a pompous, self-aggrandizing manner. He did not seem either gracious or grateful and Urmila felt illogically hurt. She saw him bowing to her exaggeratedly and sauntering away, rudely cutting off any further conversation.

What was wrong with him? Or had she drawn the wrong conclusion? Was he deliberately infuriating her or was he simply insufferable? Urmila despaired how she could have fallen in love with such a person. She could not fathom his contradictory behaviour. Did he love her? He made her believe so, making feverish love to her with his eyes in those rare, precious moments. She could not forget that glimpse of his tortured face at the swayamvar, his emotions naked to her, or his jealous fury when Ravan had insulted her with his lewd stare. She remembered how he had rushed to her aid when she was threatened by the enraged princes. Was this not love, she sighed. Then why did he insist on being surly? Did she remind him of his folly? Was he a reluctant man in love?

The very next morning, she was to again question her irrational fascination for this enigma of a man. It was time to go for the daily puja at the Gauri temple and Sita was late. It was uncharacteristic of her elder sister to keep anyone waiting and Urmila decided to check her chamber. The bed was neatly made and Sita was not there. Urmila decided to ask the cousins if they had seen her. They were nowhere to be seen either. The girls must be all together, Urmila thought. She re-confirmed with the maids and was informed that Sita had left with her handmaids for the temple. Urmila cursed herself for being late herself and quickly hurried to catch up with her sisters.

She had walked for almost a furlong and entered the denser part of the garden when she spotted Sita. She was alone and Urmila was about to call out for her when she saw Ram walking down from a distance. Walking a little ahead of him was Lakshman, his steps brisk and alert. Suddenly she saw him pause, his right arm extended, warning Ram to stop in his tracks. She saw Lakshman swivel around, catch sight of the approaching Sita and without a moment’s hesitation take aim at her and shoot her down with his arrow.

Urmila stood rooted, she could not scream; rage, fear and grief leapt at her throat. She saw Sita falling down in a bloodied heap, her hands clutching at the arrow piercing her heart. She screamed and ran toward her but Lakshman’s compelling voice tried to stop her. ‘Stop! Don’t go near her!’ she heard him shout urgently.

In agonized frenzy, she ignored his warning and continued to rush toward her wounded sister. Urmila heard the sound of running footsteps behind her and before she could whirl around, she found herself trapped by a band of powerful arms. She tried to wrench away but Lakshman was holding her down by her left arm, pressing her hard against him. ‘Can’t you hear me?’ he rasped. ‘Stay away from your sister!’

Urmila watched as Sita writhed in a pool of blood—the puddle spreading fast under her body.

‘You killed her! Why? Why?’ she spat at him.

She saw a dagger hanging at his waist as he still grappled with her, and snatching it with her right hand, she tried to thrust it in his neck, his shoulders, his back—anywhere she could reach and hurt him grievously to allow her to escape from his restraining grasp. But before she could stab him, he had pinned both her wrists, forcing them down so hard, that she was forced to let go of the dagger, seeing it fall weakly from her hands, its blade glinting in the early morning rays. Flashing a look of unbridled fury and loathing, she found herself staring back at his darkening eyes, his craggy face barely a few inches away from hers. She could feel his hot breath on her throat; he could sense her hatred and anger.

She wanted to scream at him, but the wordless scream was stifled in her dry throat. It was full of bubbling sobs instead, the tears coursing down her face.

‘She is not Sita, Mila!’ she heard him say softly, almost gently, his eyes tender. Urmila’s eyes widened in shock. ‘It’s someone else in her guise,’ he whispered, his face close. She squirmed as she felt his lips move on her skin. ‘And I shall let you go if you promise not to attack me again with that brandishing dagger so that I can find out who did this,’ he released her saying that, letting go of her wrists suddenly. Feeling strangely bereft and free from his warm hold, Urmila slowly straightened herself, her fingers rubbing her bruised wrists. She saw him stride purposefully toward the fake Sita and stood tall above the struggling body.

‘Who are you?’ he asked quietly, the venom in his voice deadly.

He got a gurgle for an answer. Lakshman did not wait for a reply. He smoothly shot a relentless arrow in the person’s midriff. Urmila flinched as she heard a loud, agonized scream like the last, failing cry of a dying animal.

She heard fresh footsteps and looked up to see Sita dashing toward her, followed closely by her cousins. She sighed in quick relief—this was her Sita! Lakshman raised his arm high in warning, and the girls stopped running, standing close to Ram, who had been watching the spectacle mutely all this while. All of them were gazing down at Sita’s lookalike. She was still gasping for breath, struggling to resume her original form. He was a demon, a dying, desperate demon.

His last shriek had got the guards and Janak hurrying to the site as well. Janak recognized the demon and was not surprised.

‘Who is he, father?’ asked Urmila urgently. ‘What is he doing here?’

King Janak hesitated, he was hoping to brush it off but the intense stare of several pairs of questioning eyes forced him to elucidate. ‘This man here is Banasur. He had sent me a message warning me against Sita’s swayamvar,’ he started slowly, ‘then I received another message just yesterday to cancel the wedding. I guessed the demon clan did not want this marriage to happen but preferred to ignore it as a mere threat. I never could have imagined that he would come here to kidnap Sita. Or worse, kill, either Ram or Sita, or both!’