Ram, Lakshman, and Sita walked in the lead, with Jatayu and his soldiers following close behind. As the forest-dwellers reached the Lankans, Vibhishan straightened his back, puffed up his chest and spoke with an air of self-importance. ‘We come in peace, King of Ayodhya.’
‘We want peace as well,’ said Ram, lowering his right hand. His people did the same. He made no comment on the ‘King of Ayodhya’ greeting. ‘What brings you here, Prince of Lanka?’
Vibhishan preened at being recognised. ‘It seems Sapt Sindhuans are not as ignorant of the world as many of us like to imagine.’
Ram smiled politely. Meanwhile, Shurpanakha pulled out a small violet kerchief and covered her nose delicately. Lakshman noticed her fashionable and manicured finger nails, each one shaped like a winnowing basket. That was perhaps the root of her name. Shurpa was Old Sanskrit for a winnowing basket. And nakha meant nails.
‘Well, even I respect and understand the ways of the Sapt Sindhuans,’ said Vibhishan.
Sita watched Shurpanakha, hawk-eyed, as the lady continued to stare at her husband. Unabashedly. Up close, it was clear that the magic of Shurpanakha’s eyes lay in their startling colour: bright blue. She almost certainly had some Hiranyaloman Mlechcha blood. Practically nobody east of Egypt had blue eyes. She was bathed in fragrant perfume that overpowered the rustic, animal smell of the Panchavati camp; at least for those in her vicinity. Not overpowering enough for her, evidently. She continued to hold the stench of her surroundings at bay, with the kerchief pressed against her nose.
‘Would you like to come inside, to our humble abode?’ asked Ram, gesturing towards the hut.
‘No, thank you, Your Highness,’ said Vibhishan. ‘I’m comfortable here.’
Jatayu’s presence had thrown him off-guard. Vibhishan was unwilling to encounter other surprises that may lie in store for them, within the closed confines of the hut. Before they came to some negotiated terms. He was the brother of the enemy of the Sapt Sindhu, after all. It was safer here, out in the open; for now.
‘All right then,’ said Ram. ‘To what do we owe the honour of a visit from the prince of golden Lanka?’
Shurpanakha spoke in a husky, alluring voice. ‘Handsome one, we come to seek refuge.’
‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Ram, momentarily flummoxed by the allusion to his good looks by a woman he did not know. ‘I don’t think we are capable of helping the relatives of …’
‘Who else can we go to, O Great One?’ asked Vibhishan. ‘We will never be accepted in the Sapt Sindhu because we are Raavan’s siblings. But we also know that there are many in the Sapt Sindhu who will not deny you. My sister and I have suffered Raavan’s brutal oppression for too long. We needed to escape.’
Ram remained silent.
‘King of Ayodhya,’ continued Vibhishan, ‘I may be from Lanka but I am, in fact, like one of your own. I honour your ways, follow your path. I’m not like the other Lankans, blinded by Raavan’s immense wealth into following his demonic path. And Shurpanakha is just like me. Don’t you think you have a duty towards us, too?’
Sita cut in. ‘An ancient poet once remarked, “When the axe entered the forest, the trees said to each other: do not worry, the handle in that axe is one of us.”’
Shurpanakha sniggered. ‘So the great descendant of Raghu lets his wife make decisions for him, is it?’
Vibhishan touched Shurpanakha’s hand lightly and she fell silent. ‘Queen Sita,’ said Vibhishan, ‘you will notice that only the handles have come here. The axe-head is in Lanka. We are truly like you. Please help us.’
Shurpanakha turned to Jatayu. It had not escaped her notice that, as usual, every man was gaping intently at her; every man, that is, except Ram and Lakshman. ‘Great Malayaputra, don’t you think it is in your interest to give us refuge? We could tell you more about Lanka than you already know. There will be more gold in it for you.’
Jatayu stiffened. ‘We are the followers of Lord Parshu Ram! We are not interested in gold.’
‘Right …’ said Shurpanakha, sarcastically.
Vibhishan appealed to Lakshman. ‘Wise Lakshman, please convince your brother. I’m sure you will agree with me when I say that we can be of use to you in your fight when you get back.’
‘I could agree with you, Prince of Lanka,’ said Lakshman, smiling, ‘but then we would both be wrong.’
Vibhishan looked down and sighed.
‘Prince Vibhishan,’ said Ram, ‘I am truly sorry but—’
Vibhishan interrupted Ram. ‘Son of Dashrath, remember the battle of Mithila. My brother Raavan is your enemy. He is my enemy as well. Shouldn’t that make you my friend?’
Ram kept quiet.
‘Great King, we have put our lives at risk by escaping from Lanka. Can’t you let us be your guests for a while? We will leave in a few days. Remember what the Taittiriya Upanishad says: “Athithi Devo Bhava”. Even the many Smritis say that the strong should protect the weak. All we are asking for is shelter for a few days. Please.’
Sita looked at Ram. And sighed. A law had been invoked. She knew what was going to happen next. She knew Ram would not turn them away now.
‘Just a few days,’ pleaded Vibhishan. ‘Please.’
Ram touched Vibhishan’s shoulder. ‘You can stay here for a few days; rest for a while, and then continue on your journey.’
Vibhishan folded his hands together into a Namaste and said, ‘Glory to the great clan of Raghu.’
Chapter 31
‘There is no salt in this food,’ complained Shurpanakha.
It was the first hour of the fourth prahar and those in the Panchavati camp had settled down for their evening meal. It had been Sita’s turn to cook. While Ram, Lakshman, and the rest were enjoying the food, Shurpanakha had found much to complain about. The lack of salt was just the latest in a litany of complaints.
‘Because there is no salt in Panchavati, princess,’ said Sita, trying very hard to be patient. ‘We make do with what we have. This is not a palace. You can choose to stay hungry, if the food is not to your liking.’
‘This food is worthy of dogs!’ muttered Shurpanakha in disgust, as she threw the morsel of food she had in her hand back on the plate.
‘Then it should be just right for you,’ said Lakshman.
Everyone burst out laughing. Even Vibhishan. But Ram was not amused. He looked at Lakshman sternly. Lakshman looked at his brother in defiance, then shook his head and went back to eating.
Shurpanakha pushed her plate away and stormed out.
‘Shurpa …’ said Vibhishan, as if in entreaty. Then he too got up and ran after his sister.
Ram looked at Sita. She shrugged her shoulders and continued eating.
An hour later, Sita and Ram were in their hut. By themselves.
While no Lankan except Shurpanakha had been troublesome, Lakshman and Jatayu remained suspicious of them. They had disarmed the visitors and locked their weapons in the camp armoury. They also maintained a strict and staggered twenty-four-hour vigil, keeping a constant watch on the guests. It was Jatayu’s and Makrant’s turn to stay up all night and keep guard.
‘That spoilt princess fancies you,’ said Sita.
Ram shook his head, his eyes clearly conveying he thought this silly. ‘How can she, Sita? She knows I’m married. Why should she find me attractive?’
Sita lay down next to her husband on the bed of hay. ‘You should know that you are more attractive than you realise.’
Ram laughed. ‘Nonsense.’
Sita laughed as well and put her arms around him. ‘But you are mine. Only mine.’
‘Yes, My Lady,’ said Ram, smiling and putting his arms around his wife.
They kissed each other, languid and slow. The forest was gradually falling silent, as though settling in for the night.
The guests had been in Panchavati with the forest-dwellers for a week now.
Lakshman and Jatayu had insisted on continuing the staggered vigil, keeping a constant watch on
the guests.
Vibhishan had announced that they would be leaving in a few hours. But Shurpanakha had insisted that she had to wash her hair before leaving. She had also demanded that Sita accompany her. To help her with her hair.
Sita had no interest in going with Shurpanakha. But she wanted to get rid of the spoilt Lankan princess as soon as possible. This had encouraged her to say yes.
Shurpanakha had insisted on taking the boat and going a long way downriver.
‘Don’t think I’m not aware that your disgusting camp-followers have been taking the opportunity to spy on me at my bath time!’ Shurpanakha said with pretended outrage.
Sita grimaced and took a deep breath, not saying anything.
‘Not your goody-goody husband, of course,’ said Shurpanakha, coquettishly. ‘He has eyes only for you.’
Sita, still silent, got into the boat, with Shurpanakha climbing in daintily. Sita waited for Shurpanakha to pick up one of the oars. But she just sat there, admiring her nails. Grunting angrily, Sita picked up both the oars and started rowing. It took a long time. Sita was irritated and tired before Shurpanakha directed her into a small hidden lagoon by the river, where she wanted to bathe.
‘Go ahead,’ said Sita. As she turned around and waited.
Shurpanakha disrobed slowly, put all her clothes into the cloth bag she had carried and dived into the water. Sita settled back, her head on the stern thwart, her body stretched out on the bottom boards, and waited. Feeling uncomfortable after some time, Sita pulled up some jute sacks, bundled them together into a pillow on the plank and rested her head again. The lazy daylight filtering through the dense foliage was calming her down slowly, lulling her to sleep.
She lost track of time as she fell into a short nap. A loud bird call woke her up.
She heard Shurpanakha frolicking in the water. She waited for what she thought was a reasonable time. Finally, Sita edged up on her elbows. ‘Are you done? Do you want your hair untangled and tied?’
Shurpanakha stopped swimming for a bit and faced Sita with a look of utter contempt and disgust. ‘I’m not letting you touch my hair!’
Sita’s eyes flew open in anger. ‘Then why the hell did you ask me to come h …’
‘I couldn’t have come here alone now, could I,’ interrupted Shurpanakha, like she was explaining the most obvious thing in the world. ‘And, I wasn’t about to bring one of the men along. Lord Indra alone knows what they would do if they saw me in this state.’
‘They would drown you, hopefully,’ muttered Sita, under her breath.
‘What did you say?’ snapped Shurpanakha.
‘Nothing. Finish your bath quickly. Your brother wants to leave today.’
‘My brother will leave when I tell him we can leave.’
Sita saw Shurpanakha looking into the forest beyond the banks of the lagoon. Sita followed Shurpanakha’s gaze. Then she shook her head in irritation. ‘Nobody has followed us here. No one can see you. In the name of all that is good and holy, finish your bath!’
Shurpanakha didn’t bother to answer. Casting Sita a contemptuous look, she turned and swam away.
Sita held her fist to her forehead and repeated softly to herself. ‘Breathe. Breathe. She’s leaving today. Just breathe.’
Shurpanakha continued to steal glances at the forest. She couldn’t see anyone. She muttered under her breath, ‘None of these idiots are reliable. I have to do everything myself.’
At the Panchavati camp, Vibhishan had come to speak to Ram.
‘Great one,’ said Vibhishan, ‘you know we are leaving soon. Is it possible to return our weapons to us so that we may get going?’
‘Of course,’ said Ram.
Vibhishan looked at Jatayu and his Malayaputras a short distance away, then in the direction of the Godavari, the great river hidden by the dense foliage. His heart was beating fast.
I hope they have reached.
‘Enough!’ said Sita, in irritation. ‘You’re as clean as you can be. Get out of the water now. We’re leaving.’
Shurpanakha looked once again into the forests.
Sita picked the oars. ‘I’m leaving. You can choose to stay or come along.’
Shurpanakha shrieked in anger, but surrendered.
Sita rowed the boat back in short order. It was a ten-minute uphill walk thereafter to the camp. She waited for Shurpanakha to step out of the boat.
Sita didn’t expect, nor get, any help from Shurpanakha to pull the boat onto the banks so that it could be tied securely to a tree with a hemp rope. Shurpanakha was behind Sita as she bent, wrapped the boat-rope around her right hand, held on to the gunwale of the boat, and began to tug.
Focused as she was on her task, as well as the physical strain of pulling a boat up the bank all by herself, she didn’t notice Shurpanakha reach into her bag, pull out some herbs and creep up on her.
Shurpanakha used a specific kind of soap and perfume that she had carried with her for her bath. It had a distinctive fragrance. Very different from the feral smell of the jungle.
It was this smell that saved Sita.
She reacted almost immediately, letting go off the boat. Just as Shurpanakha jumped at her and tried to stuff the herbs into Sita’s mouth, she turned and hit the Lankan princess hard with her elbow. Shurpanakha fell back, screaming in agony. Sita lunged forward towards the princess of Lanka but the rope wrapped around her wrist made her lose balance. Sensing an opportunity, Shurpanakha pushed Sita into the water. But as Sita fell, she elbowed the princess of Lanka again. Shurpanakha recovered quickly and jumped into the water after Sita, trying again to push the herbs into her mouth.
Sita was taller, tougher and more agile than the posh Shurpanakha. She pushed Shurpanakha hard, flinging her some distance away. She spat out the herbs, quickly pulled out her knife from the scabbard and cut the rope loose. She glanced at the herbs floating in the water, recognising them almost immediately. She pushed through the water to reach Shurpanakha.
Shurpanakha, meanwhile, had recovered. She swam towards Sita and tried to hit her with her fists. Sita grabbed and held both her wrists in her left hand; then yanked hard till the princess of Lanka was forced to turn around. Then Sita wrapped her arm around Shurpanakha’s throat, holding her hard against her own body.
Then Sita brought the knife close to Shurpanakha’s throat. ‘One more move, you spoilt brat, and I will bleed you to death.’
Shurpanakha fell silent and stopped struggling. Sita pushed the knife back in its scabbard. Then used the remnants of the rope around her own wrist to restrain Shurpanakha’s hands. She pulled Shurpanakha’s angvastram and tied it across her mouth.
She reached into Shurpanakha’s bag and found some more of the herbs.
‘I’ll push this into your mouth if you make any more trouble.’
Shurpanakha remained quiet.
Sita started dragging her towards the camp.
A short distance from the camp, the angvastram across Shurpanakha’s mouth came loose and fell away. She immediately began screaming.
‘Stay quiet!’ shouted Sita, dragging her along.
Shurpanakha, though, kept screaming at the top of her voice.
A short while later, they emerged from the woods. Sita tall, regal but dripping wet and furious. Muscles rippling with the strain of dragging Shurpanakha along. The Lankan princess’ hands remained securely tied.
Ram and Lakshman immediately drew their swords, as did everyone else present.
The younger prince of Ayodhya was the first to find his voice. Looking at Vibhishan accusingly, he demanded, ‘What the hell is going on?’
Vibhishan couldn’t take his eyes off the two women. He seemed genuinely shocked, but quickly gathered his wits and replied. ‘What is your sister-in-law doing to my sister? She is the one who has clearly attacked Shurpanakha.’
‘Stop this drama!’ shouted Lakshman. ‘Bhabhi would not do this unless your sister attacked her first.’
Sita walked into the circle of people and let
go of Shurpanakha. The Lankan princess was clearly livid and out of control.
Vibhishan immediately rushed to his sister, drew a knife and cut the ropes that bound her. He whispered into her ear. ‘Let me handle this. Stay quiet.’
Shurpanakha glared at Vibhishan. Like this was all his fault.
Sita turned to Ram and gestured towards Shurpanakha. She held out some herbs in the palm of her hand. ‘That pipsqueak Lankan stuffed this in my mouth as she pushed me into the river!’
Ram recognised the herbs. They were normally used to render people unconscious before surgeries. He looked at Vibhishan, his piercing eyes red with anger. ‘What is going on?’
Vibhishan stood up immediately, his manner placatory. ‘There has obviously been some misunderstanding. My sister would never do something like that.’
‘Are you suggesting that I imagined her pushing me into the water?’ asked Sita, aggressively.
Vibhishan stared at Shurpanakha, who had also stood up by now. He seemed to be pleading with her to be quiet. But the entreaty was clearly lost in transmission.
‘That is a lie!’ screeched Shurpanakha. ‘I didn’t do anything like that!’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’ growled Sita.
What happened next was so sudden that very few had the time to react. With frightening speed, Shurpanakha reached to her side and drew her knife. Lakshman, who was standing to the left of Sita, saw the quick movement and rushed forward, screaming, ‘Bhabhi!’
Sita moved quickly to get out of the way and avoid the strike. In that split second, Lakshman lunged forward and banged into a charging Shurpanakha, seizing both her arms and pushing her back with all his brute strength. The elfin princess of Lanka went flying back. Her own hand, which held the knife, struck her face as she crashed into the Lankan soldiers who stood transfixed behind her. The knife hit her face horizontally, cutting deep into her nose. It fell from her hand as she lay sprawled on the ground, the shock having numbed any sensation of pain.
As blood gushed out alarmingly, her conscious mind asserted control. She touched her face and looked at her bloodstained hands. The horror of it all reverberated through her being. She knew she would be left with deep scars on her face. Painful surgeries would be required to remove them.
Sita: Warrior of Mithila Page 30