Sita: Warrior of Mithila

  ‘You may have a point. But freedom without laws is chaos. I’m not sure …’

  Bharat interrupted his sister-in-law, ‘I am telling you, Bhabhi. Freedom is the ultimate silver arrow; the answer to everything. It may appear chaotic and difficult to manage on the surface. I agree that laws can be flexibly used to ensure that there isn’t too much chaos. But there is no problem that cannot ultimately be solved if you grant freedom to a sufficiently large number of argumentative and rebellious people. Which is why I think freedom is the most important attribute of life, Bhabhi.’

  ‘More important than the law?’

  ‘Yes. I believe there should be as few laws as possible; enough just to provide a framework within which human creativity can express itself in all its glory. Freedom is the natural way of life.’

  Sita laughed softly. ‘And what does your elder brother have to say about your views?’

  Ram walked up to them from behind and placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders. ‘His elder brother thinks that Bharat is a dangerous influence!’

  Ram had gone to his wing of the palace and had been told that his wife was in the royal gardens. He had found her deep in conversation with Bharat. They had not noticed him walk up to them.

  Bharat burst out laughing as he rose to embrace his brother. ‘Dada …’

  ‘Should I be thanking you for entertaining your bhabhi with your libertarian views?!’

  Bharat smiled as he shrugged. ‘At least I won’t convert the citizens of Ayodhya into a bunch of bores!’

  Ram laughed and said, tongue in cheek, ‘That’s good then!’

  Bharat’s expression instantly transformed and became sombre. ‘Father is not going to let you go, Dada. Even you know that. You’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘Father doesn’t have a choice. And neither do you. You will rule Ayodhya. And you will rule it well.’

  ‘I will not ascend the throne this way,’ said Bharat, shaking his head. ‘No, I will not.’

  Ram knew that there was nothing he could say that would ease Bharat’s pain.

  ‘Dada, why are you insisting on this?’ asked Bharat.

  ‘It’s the law, Bharat,’ said Ram. ‘I fired a daivi astra.’

  ‘The hell with the law, Dada! Do you actually think your leaving will be in the best interests of Ayodhya? Imagine what the two of us can achieve together; your emphasis on rules and mine on freedom and creativity. Do you think either you or I can be as effective alone?’

  Ram shook his head. ‘I’ll be back in fourteen years, Bharat. Even you just conceded that rules have a significant place in a society. How can I convince others to follow the law if I don’t do so myself? The law must apply equally and fairly to every single person. It is as simple as that.’ Then Ram stared directly into Bharat’s eyes. ‘Even if it helps a heinous criminal escape death, the law should not be broken.’

  Bharat stared right back, his expression inscrutable.

  Sita sensed that the brothers were talking about a sensitive issue. Things were getting decidedly uncomfortable. She rose from the bench and said to Ram, ‘You have a meeting with General Mrigasya.’

  Sita and her entourage were in the market. She didn’t intend to buy anything. She had come out of the palace to give one of her guards the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Had he left from the palace compound, his movements would have been tracked. But here, in the crowded marketplace, no one would miss one bodyguard from the large posse that guarded Sita.

  From the corner of her eye, Sita saw him slip into a tiny lane that led out of the market. He had been ordered to arrange a meeting with Jatayu the following day.

  Satisfied that her message would be delivered, Sita walked towards her palanquin to return to the palace. Her path was suddenly blocked by a grand palanquin that appeared out of nowhere. Covered with gold filigree, it was an ornate bronze litter with silk curtains covering the sides. It was obviously a very expensive and comfortable palanquin.

  ‘Stop! Stop!’ A feminine voice was heard from inside the curtained litter.

  The bearers stopped immediately and placed the palanquin down. The strongest of the attendants walked to the entrance, drew aside the curtain and helped an old woman step out.

  ‘Namaste, princess,’ said Manthara, as she laboriously came to her feet. She folded her hands together and bowed her head with respect.

  ‘Namaste, Lady Manthara,’ said Sita, returning her greeting.

  Sita had met the wealthy businesswoman the previous day. She had immediately felt sympathy for her. People did not speak kindly of Manthara behind her back. It did not seem right to Sita, especially keeping in mind that she had lost her beloved daughter, Roshni, in tragic circumstances.

  One of Manthara’s aides quickly placed a folded chair behind her, allowing her to sit. ‘I am sorry, princess. I find it difficult to stand for too long.’

  ‘No problem, Mantharaji,’ said Sita. ‘What brings you to the market?’

  ‘I’m a businesswoman,’ smiled Manthara. ‘It’s always wise to know what’s happening in the market.’

  Sita smiled and nodded.

  ‘In fact, it’s also wise to know what is happening everywhere else since the market is impacted by so many things.’

  Sita groaned softly. She expected the usual question: Why was Ram insisting on being punished for the crime of firing a daivi astra?

  ‘Mantharaji, I think it’s best if we wait for …’

  Manthara pulled Sita close and whispered, ‘I’ve been told that the Emperor may choose to abdicate, making Ram the king. And that he may choose to undertake the banishment of fourteen years himself. Along with his wives.’

  Sita had heard this too. She also knew that Ram would not allow it. But what troubled her was something else. Where did Mantharaji hear this?

  Sita maintained a straight face. Something didn’t feel right. She noticed that Manthara’s bodyguards were keeping other people in the market at bay. A chill ran down her spine.

  This meeting wasn’t an accident. It was planned.

  Sita replied carefully, ‘I have not heard this, Mantharaji.’

  Manthara looked hard at Sita. After a few moments, she smiled, slightly. ‘Really?’

  Sita adopted nonchalance. ‘Why would I lie?’

  Manthara’s smile broadened. ‘I have heard interesting things about you, princess. That you are intelligent. That your husband confides in you. That he trusts you.’

  ‘Oh, I am a nobody from a small city. I just happened to marry above myself and arrive in this big, bad metropolis where I don’t understand much of what you people say. Why should my husband trust my advice?’

  Manthara laughed. ‘Big cities are complex. Here, often, the diffused light of the moon lends greater insight. Much is lost in the glare of the sun. Therefore, the wise have held that for real wisdom to rise, the sun must set.’

  Is that a threat?

  Sita feigned confusion.

  Manthara continued, ‘The city enjoys the moon and the night. The jungle always welcomes the sun.’

  This is not about business. This is about something else.

  ‘Yes, Mantharaji,’ said Sita, pretending to be puzzled. ‘Thank you for these words of wisdom.’

  Manthara pulled Sita closer, staring directly into her eyes. ‘Is Ram going to the jungle or not?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mantharaji,’ said Sita, innocently. ‘The Emperor will decide.’

  Manthara narrowed her eyes till they were thin, malevolent slits. Then she released Sita and shook her head dismissively. As if there was nothing more to be learnt here. ‘Take care, princess.’

  ‘You take care, Mantharaji.’

  ‘Druhyu …’ said Manthara loudly.

  Sita saw the right-hand man of Manthara shuffle up obsequiously. Though the look on his face was at odds with his manner.

  Sita smiled innocently. Something’s not right. I need to find out more about Manthara.

  Chapter 27

  Sita read the code
d message quickly. It had come via Radhika. But the sender was someone else.

  The message was terse, but clear: I will speak to Guruji; it will be done.

  There was no name inscribed on the message. But Sita knew the sender.

  She held the letter to a flame, letting it burn. She held on to it till it had reduced completely to ashes.

  She smiled and whispered, ‘Thank you, Hanu bhaiya.’

  Sita and Jatayu stood in the small clearing. It was their predetermined meeting place in the jungle, an hour’s ride from the city. Sita had made it in half that time. She had covered her face and body in a long angvastram, so that she wouldn’t be identified. She had a lot to discuss with Jatayu. Not the least being her encounter with Manthara.

  ‘Are you sure about this, great Vishnu?’ asked Jatayu.

  ‘Yes. I had initially thought that the city would be more dangerous for Ram. He has so many enemies here. But now I think the jungle may be where the true danger lies.’

  ‘Then why not stay in the city?’

  ‘Can’t be done. My husband won’t agree to it.’

  ‘But … Why not? Who cares about what others …’

  Sita interrupted Jatayu, ‘Let me give you an insight into my husband’s character. General Mrigasya, one of the most powerful men in Ayodhya, was willing to back Ram replacing Dashrath babuji as king. In fact, my father-in-law himself wants to abdicate in Ram’s favour. But my husband refused. He said it’s against the law.’

  Jatayu shook his head and smiled. ‘Your husband is a rare jewel among men.’

  Sita smiled. ‘That he is.’

  ‘So, you think Manthara will …’

  ‘Yes. She is not interested in the game of thrones. She wants vengeance, especially against Ram for having followed the law; for not executing her daughter’s juvenile rapist-murderer. It’s personal.’

  ‘Any idea what she is planning?’

  ‘She will not do anything in Ayodhya. Assassinating a popular prince within the city is risky. I suspect she will try something in the jungle.’

  ‘I have visited Ayodhya before. I know her and her cohort. I also know whom she depends on.’

  ‘Druhyu?’

  ‘Yes. I suspect he will be the one who will organise the assassination. I know whom he will try to hire. I can handle it.’

  ‘I have a suspicion about Manthara and Druhyu. I suspect they are loyal to …’

  ‘Yes, great Vishnu,’ interrupted Jatayu. ‘Raavan is their true lord.’

  Sita took a deep breath. Things were beginning to make sense.

  ‘Do you want us to take care of Manthara as well?’ asked Jatayu.

  ‘No,’ answered Sita. ‘It’s been difficult enough to stop Raavan from retaliating after what happened in Mithila. Manthara is his key person in Ayodhya, his main cash cow in the north. If we kill her, he may break his pact with the Malayaputras to not attack Mithila.’

  ‘So … just Druhyu, then.’

  Sita nodded.

  ‘Let us meet tomorrow. I should know more by then.’

  ‘Of course, Jatayuji,’ said Sita. ‘Thank you. You are like a protective elder brother.’

  ‘I am nothing but your devotee, great Vishnu.’

  Sita smiled and folded her hands into a Namaste. ‘Goodbye. Go with Lord Parshu Ram, my brother.’

  ‘Go with Lord Rudra, my sister.’

  Sita mounted her horse and rode away quickly. Jatayu picked up some dust from the ground where she had stood and brought it reverentially to his forehead. He whispered softly, ‘Om Namo Bhagavate Vishnudevaya. Tasyai Sitadevyai namo namah.’

  He mounted his horse and rode away.

  Sita waited outside Vashishtha’s private office. The guards had been surprised at the unannounced arrival of the wife of Prince Ram. They had asked her to wait since the Raj Guru of Ayodhya was in a meeting with a foreign visitor.

  ‘I’ll wait,’ Sita had said.

  The last few days had been action-packed. It had almost been decided by Dashrath that he would abdicate and install Ram as king. Ram and Sita had decided that if that happened, Ram would abdicate in turn and banish himself, leaving Bharat to take over. Ideally, though, he didn’t want to do that, as it would be a public repudiation of his father’s orders. But it had not come to that.

  On the day before the court ceremony to announce Emperor Dashrath’s abdication, some dramatic developments had taken place. Queen Kaikeyi had lodged herself in the kopa bhavan, the house of anger. This was an institutionalised chamber created in royal palaces many centuries ago, once polygamy had become a common practice among the royalty. Having multiple wives, a king was naturally unable to spend enough time with all of them. A kopa bhavan was the assigned chamber a wife would go to if angry or upset with her husband. This would be a signal for the king that the queen needed redressal for a complaint. It was believed to be inauspicious for a husband to allow his wife to stay overnight in the kopa bhavan.

  Dashrath had had no choice but to visit his aggrieved spouse. No one knew what had happened in the chamber, but the next day, Dashrath’s announcement had been very different from what the rumours had suggested. Ram had been banished from the Sapt Sindhu for a period of fourteen years. Bharat had been named the crown prince in Ram’s stead. Ram had publicly accepted the banishment with grace and humility, praising the wisdom of his father’s decision. Sita and Ram were to leave for the jungle within a day.

  Sita had little time left. She needed to tie up all the loops to ensure their security in the forest.

  Vashishtha had not met Sita at all, since their arrival. Was the Raj Guru of Ayodhya avoiding her? Or had an opportunity not presented itself thus far? Anyway, she wanted to speak to him before she left.

  She looked up as she saw a man emerge from Vashishtha’s office. He was a tall, unusually fair-skinned man. He wore a white dhoti and an angvastram. But one could tell by the deliberate way he walked that he was distinctly uncomfortable in the dhoti. Perhaps, it wasn’t his normal attire. His most distinguishing features were his hooked nose, beaded full beard and drooping moustache. His wizened face and large limpid eyes were an image of wisdom and calm.

  He’s a Parihan. Probably a Vayuputra.

  The Parihan walked towards the main door, not noticing Sita and her maids in the sitting area.

  ‘My Lady,’ a guard came up to Sita, his head bowed in respect. ‘My sincere apologies for the delay.’

  Sita smiled. ‘No, no. You were only doing your job. As you should.’

  She stood up. Guided by the guard, she walked into Vashishtha’s office.

  ‘It must be done outside the boundaries of the Sapt Sindhu,’ said Druhyu.

  He was in a small clearing in the forest, having ridden east from the boundaries of the Grand Canal for around three hours. He waited for a response. There was none.

  The assassin was seated in the distance, hidden by dark shadows. His angvastram was pulled close around his face and torso. He was sharpening his knife on a smooth stone.

  Druhyu hated this part of his job. He had done it a few times, but there was something about Mara that spooked him.

  ‘The Emperor has announced the banishment of Prince Ram. His wife and he will be leaving tomorrow. You will have to track them till they are out of the empire.’

  Mara did not respond. He kept sharpening his knife.

  Druhyu held his breath in irritation. How sharp does he need that damned knife to be!

  He placed one large bag of gold coins on the tree stump near him. Then he reached into his pouch and took out a hundi. It was stamped with a secret seal recognised only by one specific moneylender in Takshasheela, a city far in the northwestern corners of India.

  ‘One thousand gold coins in cash,’ said Druhyu, ‘and a hundi for fifty thousand gold coins to be picked up at the usual place.’

  Mara looked up. Then, he felt the tip and edges of his blade. He seemed satisfied. He got up and started walking towards Druhyu.

  ‘Hey!’ Druhyu gasp
ed in panic as he turned quickly and ran back some distance. ‘Don’t show me your face. I’m not going to see your face.’

  Druhyu knew no living person had seen Mara’s face. He didn’t want to risk his life.

  Mara stopped at the tree stump, picked up the bag of gold coins and judged its weight. He set it down and picked up the hundi. He didn’t open the document, but slipped it carefully into the pouch tied to his waistband.

  Then, Mara looked at Druhyu. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’

  It took a few moments for Druhyu to realise the import of what had been said. He shrieked in panic and ran towards his horse. But Mara, lean and fit, could move faster than Druhyu. Silent as a panther, fast as a cheetah. He was upon Druhyu in almost no time. He caught hold of Druhyu from the back, holding his neck in his left arm, pinioning him against his own body. As Druhyu struggled in terror, Mara hit him hard on a pressure point at the back of his neck with the knife hilt.

  Druhyu was immediately paralysed from the neck down. Mara let the limp body slip slowly to the ground. Then he bent over Druhyu and asked, ‘Who else has been contracted?’

  ‘I can’t feel anything!’ screamed Druhyu in shock. ‘I can’t feel anything!’

  Mara slapped Druhyu hard. ‘You are only paralysed from the neck down. I can release the pressure point. But first, answer …’

  ‘I can’t feel anything. Oh Lord Indra! I can’t …’

  Mara slapped Druhyu hard, again.

  ‘Answer me quickly and I will help you. Don’t waste my time.’

  Druhyu looked at Mara. His angvastram was tied across his face. Only the assassin’s eyes were visible.

  Druhyu hadn’t seen his face. Maybe he could still come out of this alive.

  ‘Please don’t kill me …’ sobbed Druhyu, a flood of tears streaming down his face.

  ‘Answer my question. Has anyone else been contracted? Is there any other assassin?’

  ‘Nobody but you … Nobody but you … Please … by the great Lord Indra … Let me go … please.’

  ‘Is there anybody besides you who can find an assassin like me for Lady Manthara?’

  ‘No. Only me. And you can keep the money. I will tell that old witch that you have taken the contract. You don’t have to kill anyone. How will she know? She will probably be dead before Prince Ram returns … Please … Let me …’