Ram’s brothers were delighted. Bharat and Shatrughan had rushed to his chambers on their return from Branga, word having reached them even as they travelled back home. Roshni had decided to join them.
‘Congratulations, Dada!’ said Bharat, embracing his elder brother with obvious delight.
‘You deserve it,’ said Shatrughan.
‘He surely does,’ said Roshni, her face suffused with joy. ‘I ran into Guru Vashishta on my way here. He mentioned that the reduction in the crime rate in Ayodhya is only a tiny example of what Ram can truly achieve.’
‘You bet!’ said Lakshman, enthusiastically.
‘All right, all right,’ said Ram, ‘you’re embarrassing me now!’
‘Aaah,’ grinned Bharat, ‘that’s the point of it all, Dada!’
‘As far as I know, speaking the truth has not been banned in any scripture,’ said Shatrughan.
‘And we’d better believe him, Dada,’ said Lakshman, laughing heartily. ‘Shatrughan is the only man I know who can recite every single Veda, Upanishad, Brahmana, Aranyaka, Vedanga, Smriti, and everything else communicated or known to man!’
‘The weight of his formidable brain pressed so hard upon his body that it arrested his vertical growth!’ Bharat joined in.
Shatrughan boxed Lakshman playfully on his well-toned abdomen, chuckling along good-naturedly.
Lakshman laughed boisterously. ‘Do you really think I can feel your feeble hits, Shatrughan? You may have got all the brain cells created in Maa’s womb, but I got all the brawn!’
The brothers laughed even louder. Roshni was happy that, despite all the political intrigue in the Ayodhyan court, the princes shared a healthy camaraderie with each other. Clearly the Gods were looking out for the future of the kingdom.
She patted Ram on his shoulder. ‘I have to go.’
‘Go where?’ asked Ram.
‘Saraiya. You’re aware that I hold a medical camp in our surrounding villages once a month, right? It’s Saraiya’s turn this month.’
Ram looked a little worried. ‘I will send some bodyguards with you. The villages around Saraiya are not safe.’
Roshni smiled. ‘Thanks to you, criminal activity is at an all-time low. Your law enforcement has ensured that. There is nothing to worry about.’
‘I have not been able to achieve that completely, and you know it. Look, there’s no harm in being safe.’
Roshni noticed that Ram was still wearing the rakhi she had tied on his wrist a long time ago. She smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Ram. It’s a day trip, I’ll be back before nightfall. And I will not be alone. My assistants will be accompanying me. We will give the villagers free medicines and treatment, if required. Nobody will hurt me. Why would they want to?’
Bharat, who had been listening in on the conversation, stepped up and put his arm around Roshni’s shoulder. ‘You are a good woman, Roshni.’
Roshni smiled in a childlike manner. ‘That I am.’
The blazing afternoon sun did not deter Lakshman, Ayodhya’s finest rider, from honing his skills. He knew that the ability of horse and horseman to come to a sudden halt was of critical advantage in battle. To practise this art he chose a spot some distance away from the city, where sheer cliffs descended into the rapids of the Sarayu deep below.
‘Come on!’ shouted Lakshman, spurring his horse on as it galloped towards the cliff edge.
As his horse thundered dangerously near the edge of the precipice, Lakshman waited till the last moment, leaned forward in his saddle, and wrapped his left arm around the horse’s neck even as he pulled the reins hard with his right. The magnificent beast responded instantly by rearing up on its hind legs. The rear hooves left a mark on the ground as the horse stopped a few feet away from certain death. Gracefully dismounting, Lakshman stroked its mane in appreciation.
‘Well done … well done.’
The horse’s tail swished in acknowledgment of the praise.
‘Once again?’
The animal had had enough and snorted its refusal with a vigorous shake of its head. Lakshman laughed softly as he patted the horse, remounted and steered the reins in the opposite direction. ‘All right. Let’s go home.’
As he rode through the woods, a meeting was in progress a short distance away; one he may have liked to eavesdrop on, had he been aware of it. Guru Vashishta was engrossed in deep discussion with the same mysterious Naga.
‘That said, I’m sorry you…’
‘…failed?’ Vashishta completed his sentence. The guru had returned to Ayodhya after a long and unexplained absence.
‘That is not the word I would have used, Guruji.’
‘It’s appropriate, though. But it’s not just our failure. It’s a failure of—’
Vashishta stopped mid-sentence as he thought he heard a sound.
‘What is it?’ asked the Naga.
‘Did you hear something?’ asked Vashishta.
The Naga looked around, listened carefully for a few seconds, and then shook his head.
‘What about Prince Ram?’ asked the Naga, resuming the conversation. ‘Are you aware that your friend is on his way here, seeking him?’
‘I know that.’
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘What can I do?’ asked Vashishta, raising his hands helplessly. ‘Ram will have to handle this himself.’
They heard the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping. Perhaps it was an animal. The Naga murmured cautiously, ‘I had better go.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Vashishta.
He quickly mounted his horse and looked at Vashishta. ‘With your permission.’
Vashishta smiled and folded his hands into a namaste. ‘Go with Lord Rudra, my friend.’
The Naga returned his namaste. ‘Have faith in Lord Rudra, Guruji.’
The Naga gently tapped his horse into motion and rode away.
‘It’s only a sprain,’ Roshni reassured the child as she wrapped a bandage around his ankle. ‘It will heal in a day or two.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked the worried mother.
Numerous villagers from the surrounding settlements had gathered at the Saraiya village square. Roshni had patiently attended to them all. This was the last patient.
‘Yes,’ said Roshni, as she patted the child on his head. ‘Now, listen to me,’ she cupped the child’s face with her hands. ‘No climbing trees or running around for the next few days. You have to take it easy till your ankle heals.’
The mother cut in. ‘I will ensure that he stays at home.’
‘Good,’ said Roshni.
‘Hey, Roshni Didi!’ said the child, pouting with pretend annoyance. ‘Where is my sweet?’
Roshni laughed as she beckoned one of her assistants. She pulled out a sweet from his bag and handed it to the delighted child. She ruffled his hair and then rose from her stool. Stretching her back, she turned to the village chief. ‘If you will excuse me, I should be leaving now.’
‘Are you sure, My Lady?’ asked the chief. ‘It’s late and you may not be able to reach Ayodhya before nightfall. The city gates will be shut.’
‘No, I think I’ll make it in time,’ said a determined Roshni. ‘I have to. My mother wants me back in Ayodhya tonight. She has planned a celebration and I need to be there for it.’
‘All right, My Lady, as you wish,’ said the chief. ‘Thank you so much, once again. I don’t know what we would do without you.’
‘The one you must truly thank is Lord Brahma, for he has given me the skills to be of use to you.’
The chief, as always, bent down respectfully to touch her feet. Roshni, as always, stepped back. ‘Please, don’t embarrass me by touching my feet. I am younger than you.’
The chief folded his hands together in a namaste. ‘May Lord Rudra bless you, My Lady.’
‘May he bless us all!’ said Roshni. She walked up to her horse and mounted swiftly. Her assistants had already gathered all their medical material and had mounted their horses. At a signal from Roshni,
the trio rode out of the village.
Moments later, eight horse-mounted men appeared at the chief’s front door. They were from a nearby village called Isla, and had taken some medicines from Roshni earlier in the day. Their village had been struck by an epidemic of viral fever. One of the riders was an adolescent called Dhenuka, the son of the Isla village chief.
‘Brothers,’ said the chief. ‘Have you got everything you need?’
‘Yes,’ said Dhenuka. ‘But where is Lady Roshni? I wanted to thank her.’
The village chief was surprised. Dhenuka was famous for his rude, uncouth behaviour. But then he had met Roshni for the first time today. She must have impressed even this rowdy youth with her decency and goodness. ‘She has ridden out already. She needed to get to Ayodhya before nightfall.’
‘Right,’ said Dhenuka, scanning the road leading out of the village. He smiled and spurred his horse into action.
‘Can I help you, My Lady?’ asked Dhenuka.
Roshni turned around, surprised at the intrusion. They had made good time and she had stopped for some rest near the banks of the Sarayu River. They were an hour’s ride from Ayodhya.
At first she didn’t recognise him, but soon smiled in acknowledgment.
‘That’s all right, Dhenuka,’ said Roshni. ‘Our horses needed some rest. I hope one of my assistants explained how the medicine should be administered to your people.’
‘Yes, they have,’ said Dhenuka, smiling strangely.
Roshni suddenly felt uneasy. Her gut instinct told her that she must leave. ‘Well, I hope everyone in your village gets better soon.’
She walked up to her horse and reached for the reins. Dhenuka immediately jumped off his horse and held Roshni’s hand, pulling her back. ‘What’s the rush, My Lady?’
Roshni shoved him back and retreated slowly. The other members of Dhenuka’s gang had dismounted by then. Three of them moved towards her assistants.
A terrifying chill went up Roshni’s spine. ‘I… I helped your people…’
Dhenuka grinned ominously. ‘Oh, I know. I’m hoping you can help me too…’
Roshni suddenly turned around and ran. Three men took off after her and caught up in no time. One of them slapped her hard. As blood burst forth from Roshni’s injured lips, the second man twisted her hand brutally behind her back.
Dhenuka ambled up slowly, reached out and caressed her face. ‘A noble woman… Mmm… This is going to be fun.’
His gang burst out laughing.
‘Dada!’ screamed Lakshman as he rushed into Ram’s office.
Ram did not raise his eyes as he continued to pore over the documents on his desk. It was the first hour of the second prahar and he had expected some peace and quiet.
Ram spoke with casual detachment, continuing to read the document in his hand, ‘What’s the matter now, Lakshman?’
‘Dada…’ Lakshman was choked with emotion.
‘Laksh…’ Ram stopped mid-sentence as he looked up and saw the tears streaming down Lakshman’s face. ‘What happened?’
‘Dada… Roshni Didi…’
Ram immediately stood up, and his chair hurtled back. ‘What happened to Roshni?’
‘Dada…’
‘Where is she?’
FlyLeaf.ORG
Chapter 13
FlyLeaf.ORG
A stunned Bharat stood immobile. Lakshman and Shatrughan were bent over, crying inconsolably. Manthara held her daughter’s head in her lap, looking into the distance with a vacant expression, her eyes swollen but dry. She was drained of tears. Roshni’s body was covered with a white cloth. She had been found lying next to the Sarayu River by Manthara’s men, violated and bare. The corpse of one of her assistants lay a short distance away. He had been brutally bludgeoned to death. The other assistant was found by the side of the road, severely injured but still alive. Doctors tended to him as Ram stood by their side; his face was impassive but his hands shook with fury. He had questions for Roshni’s assistant.
When Roshni had not returned by the next morning, Manthara had sent out her men to Saraiya to find and bring back her daughter. They had ridden out at dawn as soon as the city gates were unlocked. An hour’s ride away from the city, they had chanced upon Roshni’s body. She had been brutally gang-raped. Her head had been banged repeatedly against a flat surface. The marks on her wrist and her back suggested that she had been tied to a tree. Her body was covered with bruises and vicious bite marks. The monsters had ripped off some of her skin with their teeth, around her abdomen and bare arms. She had been beaten with a blunt object all over her body, probably in a sick, sadistic ritual. Her face was torn on one side, from her mouth to the cheekbone, the injuries and blood clots in her mouth suggesting that she was probably alive through this torture. There were semen stains all over her body. She had died in a most gruesome manner, as one of the assailants had poured acid down her throat.
The assistant opened his eyes painfully. Ram bent over him and growled. ‘Who were they?’
‘I don’t think he can speak, My Lord,’ said the doctor.
Ram ignored the man as he knelt next to the injured assistant. ‘Who were they?’ he repeated.
Roshni’s assistant barely found the strength to whisper a name before he passed out once again.
Roshni was a rare figure who was popular among the masses as well as the classes. She had devoted her life to charity. She was a woman of impeccable character, a picture of grace and dignity. Many compared her to the fabled Kanyakumari, the Virgin Goddess. The rage that this brutal crime generated was unprecedented. The city demanded retribution.
The criminals were rounded up quickly from Isla village just as they were planning to escape. The chief of Isla was beaten black and blue by the women of his village when he made vain attempts to protect his son. They had suffered Dhenuka’s bestiality in silence for too long. Even by the standards of Ram’s vastly improved police force, the investigations were completed, the case presented in front of judges, and sentences delivered in record time. Within a week, preparations were on to mete out punishment to the perpetrators. They had all been sentenced to death; all except one; all except Dhenuka.
Ram was devastated that Dhenuka, the main perpetrator of the heinous gang rape and murder, had been exempted from maximum punishment on a legal technicality: he was underage. But the law could not be broken. Not on Ram’s watch. Ram, the Law Giver, had to do what he had to do. But Ram, the rakhi-brother of Roshni, was drowning in guilt, for he was unable to avenge the horrifying death of his sister. He had to punish himself. And he was doing so by inflicting pain on himself.
He sat alone on a chair in the balcony of his private study, gazing out towards the garden where Roshni had tied a rakhi on his wrist. He looked down at the golden thread, eyes brimming with tears. The heat of the mid-day sun bore down mercilessly on his bare torso. He shaded his eyes as he looked up at the sun, and inhaled deeply before turning his attention back to his injured right hand. He picked up the wedge of wood placed on the table by his side. Its tip was smouldering.
He looked up at the sky and whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Roshni.’
He pressed the burning wood on the inner side of his right arm, the one that still had the sacred thread which represented his solemn promise to protect his sister. He didn’t make a sound, his eyes did not flicker. The acrid smell of burning flesh spread through the air.
‘I’m sorry…’
Ram closed his eyes as tears flowed freely down his face.
Hours later, Ram sat in his office with a vacant air of misery. His injured arm was covered by his archer’s arm band.
‘This is wrong, Dada!’
Lakshman entered Ram’s office, visibly seething with fury. Ram looked up from his desk, the grief in his eyes concealing the rage within.
‘It is the law, Lakshman,’ said Ram calmly. ‘The law cannot be broken. It is supreme, more important than you or me. Even more important than…’
Ram choked on his words as
he could not bring himself to take her name.
‘Complete your sentence, Dada!’ Bharat lashed out harshly from near the door.
Ram looked up. He raised his hand towards Bharat, wincing in pain. ‘Bharat…’
Bharat strode into the room, his eyes clouded with sorrow, his body taut, his fingers trembling, yet unable to adequately convey the storm that raged within. ‘Finish what you were saying, Dada. Say it!’
‘Bharat, my brother, listen to me…’
‘Let it out! Tell us that your damned law is more important than Roshni!’ Fierce tears were flowing in a torrent from Bharat’s eyes now. ‘Say that it matters more to you than that rakhi around your wrist.’ He leaned over and grabbed Ram’s right arm. Ram did not flinch. ‘Say that the law is more important to you than our promise to protect our
Roshni forever.’
‘Bharat,’ said Ram, as he gently freed his arm from his brother’s vice-like grip. ‘The law is clear: minors cannot be executed. Dhenuka is underage and, according to the law, will not be executed.’
‘The hell with the law!’ shouted Bharat. ‘This is not about the law! This is about justice! Don’t you understand the difference, Dada? That monster deserves to die!’
‘Yes, he does,’ said Ram, tormented by the guilt that wracked his soul. ‘But a juvenile will not be killed by Ayodhya. That is the law.’
‘Dammit, Dada!’ shouted Bharat, banging his hand on the table.
A loud voice boomed from behind them. ‘Bharat!’
The three brothers looked up to find Raj Guru Vashishta standing at the door. Bharat immediately straightened and folded his hands together in a respectful namaste. Lakshman refused to react, his untrammelled anger now focused on his guru.
Vashishta walked in with deliberate, slow-paced footsteps. ‘Bharat, Lakshman, your elder brother is right. The law must be respected and obeyed, whatever the circumstances.’