The Rise of Sivagami : Book 1 of Baahubali - Before the Beginning

by Anand Neelakantan

  The thought was pleasurable, and made him strangely uneasy. He felt wicked and guilty. Not for him such thoughts, he chided himself. Amma Gauri, let my thoughts not wander, he prayed, and again worry about his brother rushed in. Was it better to think wicked thoughts, thoughts of freedom? It was better not to think at all, his father’s voice said. He took a deep breath, drew back his shoulders and straightened his spine. Delicious aromas wafted through the crack of Bijjala’s door, and he felt hungry. He stood like a statue, his dreams frozen, his taste buds numb, and his sense of smell plugged.

  ‘Hey ugly, where is your handsome brother?’

  Kattappa knew that voice; it belonged to the last person he wanted to see. What was this eunuch doing here? She was one among many that Kalika had employed, but other than Brihannala, he had rarely seen other eunuchs inside the Mahishmathi palace.

  He stood straight, looking far ahead, acting as if Keki did not exist. He could hear the sound of her anklets jingling as she walked. She was coming towards him. There was a rhythm to her walk. When the jingling stopped, Kattappa drew his breath. She was so near him that he could smell her. He winced when a hand with colourful bangles rested on his shoulder. Fingers traced a path to his chin and moved towards his ears. Kattappa tried his best to remain impassive.

  ‘Oh, my lover is angry with me,’ Keki coyly fluttered her eyelashes and smiled. She had lovely eyes, with thick curved lashes, a permanent blush on her soft cheeks, and pouty lips. At first sight, she looked like a lovely woman. Only her gruff voice gave away that she was a eunuch. Kattappa’s heartbeat increased. The smell of her perfume was sickening. She caressed his face and her bangles jingled. Kattappa stood with his hands crossed behind his back, not looking at her face, not even acknowledging her presence, but blocking her way to the chamber of Bijjala.

  ‘Shall I…hmmm…pleasure you, Manmatha? Oh, you look so delicious, just like the god of love,’ she said in a husky voice, as her fingers played with the knot of his dhoti. Kattappa tried to push her hands away, but she caught his hand and kissed it. He pulled back in alarm. She whispered in his ears and blood rushed to Kattappa’s face, making it darker. He cursed the effect Keki was having on him.

  ‘My lover boy, you’ll have to wait. I have to meet the prince. Be a sweetheart, Kamadeva, and let this Rati in to meet your prince,’ she said, trying to dodge past him. Kattappa’s arms shot out to block her path. His hand brushed against her breast and she let out a dramatic sigh. She pouted her lips, fluttered her eyelashes and said, ‘Handsome, why are you standing in my way?’

  Kattappa tried to pull back his hand but she wouldn’t let go. He felt his skin was burning where it had made contact with her breasts. She was as tall as him and as strong. Kattappa managed to free his hand at last and saw that her nails had made white marks on his dark skin.

  ‘Shall I give you a present?’ she huskily whispered. Her hand disappeared inside her breast-band. Kattappa was scared that someone would see them. This could become a scandal and he would become the laughing stock amongst other slaves. Whatever he did, he was doomed. All of a sudden, the door opened and Kattappa hurried to kneel before the prince. His face burned with shame. He did not want to look at Bijjala.

  He winced when he heard Keki say, ‘Your slave has an unfortunate face but a body of forged steel, Prince. Why don’t you send him to my place? He looks so delicious.’ Keki ran her tongue over her lips.

  Bijjala laughed, adding to Kattappa’s discomfort. Keki squeezed Kattappa’s shoulder, and as she moved away, she ran the end of her silk shawl over Kattappa’s face.

  ‘You look handsome,’ Keki said, admiring Bijjala, who blushed red. Keki adjusted the pearl necklace on his neck.

  ‘Everyone is waiting for you, Prince,’ Keki said as she turned and started walking, her hips swaying sensuously. As she passed, she leaned to brush her lips on Kattappa’s cheeks. Before the slave could react she had moved away.

  Bijjala hurried to catch up with her. ‘We have to rush,’ the prince said excitedly. Kattappa did not know whether to follow them or not. His duty was to be with the prince. After a moment’s hesitation, Kattappa walked with his hand on his sword’s hilt, following them with soft steps, looking straight ahead.

  Prince Bijjala was dressed in his finest clothes. A sharp smell of perfume lingered in the air as he walked, chatting animatedly with Keki. Kattappa kept a respectable distance. When they were going down the spiral staircase, they came face-to-face with Prince Mahadeva.

  ‘Where are you off to, Bijjala?’ Mahadeva asked in surprise.

  ‘None of your business,’ Bijjala pushed him away and continued walking.

  ‘But Mother is looking for you.’

  ‘Get lost.’

  Bijjala and Keki turned the corner. Mahadeva caught Kattappa’s wrist and the slave turned around in shock. Fortunately, no one was there to see it. He was not supposed to touch a prince, unless it was to save their life. ‘Will you tell me where they are going?’ Mahadeva asked.

  Kattappa continued to look at the invisible point far ahead. Mahadeva impatiently huffed, left him and ran up the wooden stairs. His heavy steps faded away and Kattappa resumed his pursuit of his master. Bijjala and Keki had reached the farthest end of the pillared corridor. Kattappa hurried to catch up with them. On either side of him huge stone dragons with their tails in their mouths rose twenty feet above him. Their eyes seemed to watch the slave as he ran on the chequered floors.

  ‘Does this monkey have to come with us, my lord?’ Keki asked with some displeasure.

  ‘Who cares if a dog follows? We can keep him at the gate to bark when required,’ Bijjala laughed.

  ‘We have to be careful about Skandadasa’s moles, my lord. If the maharaja got a whiff of where I am taking you…’ Keki trailed off.

  ‘As if my father was always an old man. Even at this age, he has no qualms being pleasured by Kalika’s devadasis. Have I not heard enough bawdy songs about my father’s exploits,’ Bijjala laughed. ‘I only hope my mother does not find out.’

  ‘And if the maharani does?’

  ‘I will say you compelled me to go,’ Bijjala replied. Keki’s face went white, but she recovered quickly. ‘Of course, my lord, of course. The blame can always be put on this beautiful woman’s shoulders. Anything for you, my prince.’ Keki ran her fingers over Bijjala’s shoulders.

  ‘Keep your hands away from me,’ Bijjala snapped, ‘and take me to where you had promised.’

  ‘We have to be quick and should return before we are missed,’ Keki said and opened a door that led to the western garden near the palace. ‘This way, my lord.’

  They circled the harem of the maharaja and reached its rear door. By this time, Bijjala was sweating. ‘Don’t worry, my lord. The maharaja will be leaving soon with Senapathi Hiranya to Kuntala Rajya and will be back only in a fortnight,’ Keki said.

  ‘I know that. But why are we here?’ Bijjala asked.

  In answer, Keki scratched the door with her nails. Someone opened it and they entered. A woman was dancing in front of a man reclining on a dewan.

  ‘Ah, Brihannala, is everything ready?’ Keki asked. The woman turned with a dazzling smile. Yet another eunuch, Kattappa winced. Bijjala’s face flushed red with anger.

  ‘This is the head of Antapura and not the apsaras. Why have you brought me here, bloody eunuch?’ Bijjala bristled with rage.

  Before Keki could answer, Brihannala stepped forward and bowed gracefully. ‘Your Grace, my friend Keki has told me about your need. This Brihannala is always at your service. The arrangements have been made.’ She clapped her hands and the man who had been reclining on the dewan went inside. After a few moments of tense silence, a maid returned with a huge plate on which a merchant’s dress was neatly folded. ‘You will look dashing in this, my prince,’ said Keki, smoothing invisible creases on the garment.

  ‘This is what stinking merchants wear. I am the prince of Mahishmathi, and you expect me to wear this?’ Bijjala roared.

&nbs
p; ‘Necessary for discretion, my prince, or do you want everyone to be gossiping about you secret visit?’ Brihannala said, keeping her hands over her chest and bowing deep.

  ‘Or perhaps you want to do this once you’re twenty-one? Wait a few more months? No one can question you then, not even the queen,’ Keki laughed.

  For a moment, it seemed to Kattappa that Bijjala would throw this creature out and rush back to his chamber in a rage. He would have preferred nothing better. However, Bijjala snatched the clothes and went behind a pillar. Keki smiled. ‘Embarrassed to show us your handsome body, my prince? You are tempting me.’

  Bijjala answered with an expletive and Keki laughed. ‘That is too colourful for a prince. Princes should only use Devabhasha and not the language of poor people like us. But in case you are interested, we can pick up a few more colourful ones at Keki’s place.’

  Bijjala emerged, awkward in the merchant’s clothes. He took off his pearl necklace and gold bangles and was about to hand them over to Kattappa, when Keki snatched them. ‘Oh thank you, my lord. You are so generous.’

  She quickly whistled and four men came with a palanquin. She gestured them to get in.

  ‘Am I an old maid to get into this, you miserable eunuch?’ Bijjala demanded.

  ‘You want to parade through the streets on an elephant? How about riding along with a drummer to announce your arrival at Kalika’s den? That would be very discreet, wouldn’t it?’

  Bijjala glared at her and then reluctantly got in.

  ‘My lord, your sword will be too conspicuous. My men will hold it.’

  ‘Forget about it. No one is going to see me. I am travelling like my grandmother. A sari is the only thing I lack now,’ Bijjala muttered.

  ‘You would have looked gorgeous in a sari and I swear that would have made a better camouflage. Next time, I will arrange that. Your sword please, or we can do this after two years.’

  ‘You will pay for your tongue, eunuch,’ Bijjala said, handing over his sword.

  ‘I make a living with my tongue, my lord. There are many I have pleasured with it in this city, including names you don’t want to hear. Spare the tongue and spoil the finger, is what we say in Kalika’s den. You didn’t get the joke? Maybe after a few months? Now move a bit so that your slave can get in.’

  ‘How dare you! No way is an untouchable slave sitting with me.’

  ‘Putting a big board on the palanquin saying this carries Bijjala, the first prince of Mahishmathi, on his way to whoring, would be a better idea than your slave walking along beside it,’ Keki said wryly. Kattappa wondered how this eunuch could be so audacious with the prince.

  Brihannala intervened. ‘My lord, we must stay true to your disguise. You are a merchant on his way out of the harem after selling his wares to the women. We must not invite attention,’ she said soothingly.

  ‘But won’t they check at the gates? That bloody Skandadasa’s men shadow me everywhere.’

  ‘Skandadasa is worried about your safety, my lord. After the incident with the elephant, the maharaja has ordered that you should be guarded at all times. Skandadasa is just doing his duty. But don’t worry. Even he won’t get a whiff of this,’ Brihannala said. Keki rolled her eyes.

  ‘But they will find out at the gates. They check everyone going in and out,’ Bijjala stressed.

  ‘You are right, my prince. They will check the palanquin at the gate,’ Brihannala said. ‘But we have a way to beat them. You are simply to play your part in the plan and all shall be smooth. Your Highness has to kindly allow your slave to sit with you. He will be too conspicuous otherwise.’ Brihannala’s soft words were reassuring.

  Bijjala stared at Kattappa with distaste. Brihannala folded her hands, pleading. Bijjala nodded and looked away.

  ‘Your Highness is too kind,’ Brihannala bowed.

  ‘Now, get into the palanquin, my groom,’ Keki said, caressing Kattappa’s cheek.

  Kattappa was horrified that he had to sit in the same palanquin as his prince. What would his father say? He hesitated, holding the hilt of his sword firm in his hands.

  Keki pouted. ‘Is my heart of hearts angry with me? Can I make up with a kiss on your dark lips, yes? No? Oh you break my heart. If you don’t get in before I count to three, I am going to kiss you full on your lips. And your master will be jealous that I am kissing his slave instead of him. Do you want to make your master angry, darling?’

  Kattappa did not wait to hear anymore. He tried getting in, but his sword was in his way. Keki extended her hand for his sword.

  Kattappa addressed the prince in panic. ‘My lord, this sword is holy, handed over by the maharaja himself. I am not supposed to part with it until my death.’

  ‘Let us leave this black monkey here. Let him sit here and chew his sword.’ Keki spat a stream of betel juice and tried to get into the palanquin. Kattappa blocked her way in and Keki snarled, ‘Move out of my way.’

  ‘The prince is not going anywhere without me,’ Kattappa said.

  ‘Says who?’ Bijjala cried from inside.

  ‘Apologies, my lord, but that is the order of Maharaja Somadeva.’

  ‘You see the pond there in the garden? Why don’t you jump into it? Prince, why do you care about what a slave has to say?’ Keki asked.

  ‘Because he will go and tell my father. He is a mill around my neck.’ Gritting his teeth, Bijjala snapped at Kattappa, ‘Why can’t you hand over your bloody sword and get in without wasting time, you son of a bitch.’

  ‘I am sorry, my lord. I will only part with this sword when I die.’

  Keki sighed. ‘Let him keep his sword. Move a bit, unless you want his black ass resting on your lap.’

  ‘Not near me. Keki, you sit between us.’

  ‘And let the world see a slave travelling in a palanquin. That would be a great sight. All the urchins of the city and their uncles would crowd to see that.’ Keki caught Kattappa’s wrist and said, ‘Get in.’

  Kattappa waited for Bijjala’s order but the prince looked away. Kattappa said a silent prayer. He was breaking all rules. He squeezed himself in, taking care not to touch the prince’s body. He placed his sword between them.

  Keki got in last and leaned over to draw the curtain on Bijjala’s side. Her breasts brushed against Kattappa’s face and when he winced, she winked and blew him a kiss. Kattappa recoiled in distaste. The palanquin rose with a jerk, swaying as the carriers adjusted the weight and started moving. They cried, ‘Ho-ho, ho-ho-ho,’ with each step and the front pair jingled a bell to make people give way.

  They were stopped at the fort gate of the palace and Keki jumped down from the palanquin to deal with the guards. Kattappa could hear her say that she was taking the merchant to Kalika’s den. He prayed that the guards would not bother to check the inside of the palanquin. Bijjala was sweating near him.

  Kattappa saw Keki joking with the guards. He saw money changing hands and wondered how easy it was to smuggle someone out of the palace. If it was easy to smuggle someone out of the fort, it would be equally easy to smuggle an enemy in. Corruption was corroding the safety of his city too. He decided he would speak to his father and somehow bring this to the notice of the maharaja.

  Keki jumped back in and the palanquin soon crossed the fort gate and moved fast through the streets. It was stuffy and humid inside. The body odour of the eunuch mixed with the perfume of Bijjala nauseated Kattappa. The eunuch’s shoulders brushed against his but there was nothing he could do. He had a gnawing feeling in his mind that this journey would lead to great peril. He closed his eyes in prayer and gripped his sword tight.

  NINE

  Brihannala

  Brihannala waited until the palanquin carrying Prince Bijjala had left the fort gate. It had grown dark. There was dampness in the air. Lightning split the eastern sky. A breeze played with her sari and lustrous hair. It would be perfect, she thought. She smiled at the benevolence of the gods. She went back to the Antapura.

  Servants were lighting lamps insi
de. Her disciples had started singing. The sound of anklets came from the top floor. Soon the Antapura would reverberate with melodious songs. Flautists and veena players had started arriving. Since the maharaja was away, the concerts and performances would not be elaborate. Still, there were state guests, important traders and diplomats who had to be entertained.

  Brihannala bustled in and shouted instructions in all directions. Some of her girls called out to her from the top floor. They asked her to come up and dance with them. She told them she would change into her evening finery and join them.

  She entered her private chamber. A man sat there in his undergarments. He stood up when she came inside. Brihannala locked the door.

  She removed her blouse and skirt and stood before the mirror naked except for a loincloth. She was no longer a eunuch but a man.

  ‘How long will this go on, Dhananjaya?’ the man asked.

  ‘As long as it takes to achieve our dream, Nala,’ Brihannala said, and added, leaning towards the merchant, ‘I had warned you before, too, brother. That you should not call me anything other than Brihannala.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Brihannala flexed his muscles and removed a sword that was hanging on the wall. He started practising his moves with it, as dexterously as a trained warrior. Gone was the feminine charm, and in its place was the grit of a fighter who was sure of his feet and sword.

  ‘Nala, this was a promise I gave my mother twenty-five years ago. I will be a man again’—he sliced the topmost melon kept on the table into two clean halves with a swing of his sword, without even disturbing the pile—‘only after we destroy the heartless state of Mahishmathi.’