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

by Anand Neelakantan

  Pattaraya said, ‘I have a plan to repay the bastard princess. Just trust me.’

  ‘Trust you after all this? Ha! Boys,’ the dwarf called out, and Ranga appeared and helped him stand up. Hidumba adjusted his turban. ‘Let us go to Kalika’s mansion and have some fun. When we die and reach hell, Yama should not ask me what I did with my most important organ. I am doomed because of these fools and I want to go to the gallows singing and dancing.’

  ‘Wait,’ Pattaraya stopped the dwarf. ‘Hold on, you fool. Leave such things to me.’

  ‘Like hell I will. I took the greatest risk amongst all of you. You have covered your fat ass. I assure you, Uncle Pattaraya, if I hang, you will hang with me. I am not in this until you recover all the Gaurikanta stones.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do, Hidumba? I am trying my best. If you have a better plan, please tell me…’

  ‘Do you have a well in your kitchen courtyard?’ Hidumba asked.

  ‘A well? Yes…’

  ‘And a millstone to grind? The one you use to make dosa batter?’

  ‘Are you mocking me?’ Pattaraya’s eyes flashed in anger.

  ‘Just offering some good advice, Uncle. You were wondering what the best course of action would be. I suggest you tie that millstone around your neck and jump into the well. Your daughter might have to go without dosa for some time, but I think she will survive.’

  ‘How dare you!’ Pattaraya rushed to slap Hidumba. Ranga and Thunga caught him and forced him to sit. Pattaraya panted in anger. He calmed himself, thinking fast. He had to pacify this dwarf. He had to take him to Kalika’s den.

  ‘Only you can save us, Hidumba. You play a big part in my plan,’ Pattaraya said, adopting a defeated stance.

  Without waiting for the dwarf’s reply, he walked out and sat in his chariot. Puzzled by the change in his attitude, the dwarf and his two bodyguards joined him, and the chariot rolled towards Kalika’s inn. During the ride, Pattaraya met every taunt, insult and barb from the dwarf with a smile and a calm answer that he would explain everything once Pratapa and Rudra Bhatta joined them. Soon Hidumba retreated into a sullen silence until the chariot stopped at the turn by the river to wait for their friends to come.

  Runga and Thunga helped Hidumba out of the chariot and gently placed him on the ground. They stood by the chariot with their swords drawn. Pattaraya paced up and down, glancing into the darkness and shaking his head, folding his hands and unfolding them, while Hidumba stood with an amused smile, chewing a blade of grass. Behind them, the outer fort of Mahishmathi city loomed high. This was a quiet spot, with the narrow path winding around the fort and the river. Not many frequented this path in the dark, as people preferred to go through the royal highway that ran through the fort, which was well lit and had sentries patrolling it often. This path was meant for the untouchables and the slaves, who rarely moved around after dark.

  ‘Here they come,’ Hidumba said, spitting out the chewed grass. Pattaraya rushed forward to welcome Pratapa and Rudra Bhatta. The rajaguru halted when he saw Hidumba.

  ‘Welcome Rudra Bhatta, the great strategist,’ Hidumba mocked. Even in the faded moonlight, Pattaraya could see Rudra Bhatta’s lips drawing into a tight line in suppressed anger. The dwarf had a knack for getting on people’s nerves.

  ‘Hidumba, let us all agree that a mistake happened. Why do you need to rub it in?’ Dandanayaka Pratapa tried to ease the situation.

  ‘A mistake?’ Hidumba threw up his crooked hands. ‘What an easy word, what a sorry excuse. It is my head on the block. I established contact, I found Nagayya, I told you about the secret door and the tide. And you guys have lost everything. Everything!’

  Pratapa and Rudra Bhatta looked shamefaced. Pattaraya said, ‘Hidumba, I had told you that we have another plan and that is why we are now going to Kalika’s inn to execute it.’

  Hidumba kept pacing, his head bent in thought. Pratapa and Rudra Bhatta stood nervously. Pattaraya eyed the dwarf, his mind racing with plans. The dwarf was dangerous, but nothing that he could not handle.

  ‘We have to find out more about who killed your man, Pratapa,’ Hidumba said.

  ‘We will. I believe he was Skandadasa’s spy,’ Pratapa said.

  ‘Do you people even understand what a big mess you have created? We have taken a fortune from Chitraveni. And now what answer do we give her? Pattaraya claims he has a plan. We all know how the last plan ended up,’ Hidumba ranted.

  Pattaraya ignored the insult. ‘Trust me, I have a plan to keep her pacified. We will pay her with something better.’

  ‘Are you offering to marry her?’ Hidumba said, and his two thugs sniggered. Pattaraya ignored him.

  ‘We will pay her with the Gauridhooli itself, the finished powder that gives the weapons of Mahishmathi their great power. Until we can smuggle another slave with the expertise to set up a workshop, we will continue to supply her the Gauridhooli. She, of course, will have to give us sufficient compensation, in fact more than sufficient compensation,’ Pattaraya laughed.

  There was a shocked silence. Pattaraya waited for them to recover. Rudra Bhatta was clearly worried. Pratapa was deep in thought. Pattaraya looked at Hidumba.

  Hidumba said, ‘Oh, I believe you have a substantial stock of it. We all know it is available in the vegetable market; two copper coins a handful, right? Huh!’

  Pattaraya smiled, ‘No, not at all. I will take it from its source.’

  ‘How?’ Pratapa asked. ‘The access to the workshop is only for the royals and the mahapradhana. The slaves do not even see sunlight. It is a state secret and heavily guarded. How the hell are you going to get the Gauridhooli out of there?’

  ‘If only royals can access it, we will ask the royals to get it for us.’

  ‘Of course, why didn’t we think of it before,’ Hidumba mocked. ‘The great Pattaraya will go to the maharaja and say, “Your Highness, I have taken a bribe from a bastard princess of a vassal kingdom who is plotting your downfall. She needs some Gauridhooli. Would you be so kind as to deliver it yourself or should I arrange for the carts?” And the maharaja will open the workshop and declare, ‘Pattaraya, my bosom friend, everything is yours. Take whatever you want.’ What an idea. I should bow to you, nay, I should touch your divine feet and become your disciple.’

  Ranga and Thunga laughed aloud. The dwarf smiled smugly at his own wit. Rudra Bhatta and Pratapa stared at him with distaste.

  Pattaraya kept his cool and said, ‘There are easier methods than asking the king directly. For instance, asking the elder prince himself to hand it over to us.’

  ‘How much wine have you had, Pattaraya?’ Hidumba threw his hands up and shook his head. Pratapa and Rudra Bhatta appeared uneasy.

  ‘Trust me, friends,’ Pattarya said. ‘This is the reason I have called you all to Kalika’s inn. Especially my dear friend, Hidumba.’

  Pattaraya explained his plan to them. A reluctant smile appeared on Hidumba’s face.

  ‘Can she be trusted?’ Rudra Bhatta asked.

  ‘There is no one more loyal than a whore,’ Pattaraya said. Pratapa had already started walking to the chariot.

  ‘It is a sin to go to a whorehouse. I am a Brahmin,’ the priest pouted.

  ‘Aha, treason is not a sin for this great Brahmin but whoring is,’ the dwarf said as he walked to the chariot. Thunga lifted him up and placed him inside.

  Pattaraya took the old priest by his hand and led him to the chariot and climbed in. He ordered his chariot driver to ride to Kalika’s den.

  The chariot started with a jerk and the men inside sat in the darkness, each buried in his own thoughts. As they turned the corner where the avarna’s path crossed the royal highway, onto that road which led to Kalika’s inn, he had a feeling that the road was under surveillance. He was not in his official chariot but a private one which he kept for such purposes, but he was worried. Had they found out about the missing stones, he wondered. At least it seemed they knew something was amiss. Beware, he told himself. Pratapa and
Rudra Bhatta were silent in the rear seat. The dwarf was amusing himself with a Chaturanga board.

  A few of the street lights had already died out and darkness pooled under their lamp posts on the deserted road. The chariot rattled down the smooth royal highway, and the rhythm of the bells and horse hooves on granite slabs was sleep-inducing. If someone saw them now, Pattaraya thought, they would see some noblemen on a visit to a devadasi’s abode. Nothing extraordinary.

  There were sure to be one or two spies following them. Kalika’s den would also have spies, thought Pattaraya. He had played this game many times. Though the tension that their cover was on the verge of being blown was at the back of his mind, he was warming up to the game. He scanned the river as far as his eye could see. There were no silhouettes of ships with dark sails approaching the city. Jeemotha had his own people in the city and the sly pirate-merchant would have received information about Skandadasa’s check on all incoming ships in the port. He had enough sense to stay away when the tide was unfavourable.

  A moth kept whizzing around the lantern swaying near Pattaraya’s shoulders. He swatted at it unsuccessfully each time the moth bothered him, breaking his chain of thought. He had to find out who killed the dandakara and who stole the stones. Or did the stones actually get washed away in the drain? He had to recover them fast. Time was running out for Pattaraya.

  The chariot swayed as it left the royal highway and took a sharp turn and left the riverside. The bells jingled furiously and Pattaraya snapped at his charioteer to drive carefully. The moth landed on his cheek and in anger he slapped himself and felt the warmth of the moth. He wiped its squishiness from his cheeks. In the swaying light of the lantern he saw the moth, writhing in pain, its one wing squashed in his palm. Skandadasa was becoming a pain in the neck. He had to take some tough decisions. He crushed the moth, ending its struggle, and smiled.

  THIRTEEN

  Sivagami

  When they reached the orphanage at the edge of the fort, Sivagami’s heart sank. The only thing royal about the Royal Orphanage was its name. It was a decrepit building, the sight of which was depressing. A little lamp by the gate struggled to light the steps. The gate was rusty and fragile. A few tiles above the door were missing and an ambitious creeper had tried reaching the sky through the holes in the roof. A boy was sleeping on the steps, his head covered with a torn sack. Revamma kicked him awake and the boy spewed out a stream of cuss words. He was barely ten, but his language would have made a seasoned soldier blush.

  ‘Hush, devil. Hold your nasty tongue. There is someone important with us,’ Revamma hissed.

  The boy stared at Sivagami for a moment and laughed. ‘This hussy?’ Sivagami was shocked at his language. Revamma boxed his ears. It was then that he saw Mahadeva.

  ‘New boy?’ The boy walked around Prince Mahadeva, appraising him. ‘But he is dressed like a prince.’

  ‘Shut your trap if you want to retain your head. It is the prince of Mahishmathi.’ Revamma pushed him out of her way and opened the rickety door.

  ‘Prince? Did the king die for the prince to be admitted into an orphanage?’ the boy asked, scratching his head in confusion.

  Sivagami, who had forgotten all about Mahadeva’s existence, eyed him. He was blushing and seemed terribly embarrassed. Revamma ignored the boy and invited the prince in.

  ‘If Your Highness could see our pitiful condition, your heart would melt. Please come and have a look.’

  Sivagami could see that, though the prince did not want to come in, he was not a person who could refuse anyone. Mahadeva acquiesced and Revamma quickly excused herself to arrange for a quick welcome for the prince.

  The boy asked Sivagami, ‘Is he really a prince?’ She ignored him. He then repeated his question to Mahadeva, who nodded reluctantly, as if embarrassed of the fact. ‘Hypocrite,’ Sivagami muttered to herself. The Mahishmathi royals hid poison behind their smiles. One day, she would murder them all. She would finish the Mahishmathi royal clan.

  The boy stood for a few moments as if absorbing the news, and then ran screaming that Prince Mahadeva had come to visit. Heads popped out from the balconies of the two floors. Doors creaked open. There was a rumble of footsteps as many feet treaded wooden stairs. Someone fell down in the melee and cursed. Laughter followed along with excited howls and animated whispers. Soon the courtyard was filled with boys and girls and a few grown-up men and women.

  Mahadeva stood, nervous, and Sivagami noticed that he was still holding her bundle. She took the bundle from his hands and mumbled her thanks. It did not go unnoticed among the inhabitants. She heard someone whispering that she was his sister, a princess of Mahishmathi. Sivagami was mortified and was about to correct the false notion, when she heard some girl say that she might be the lover of the prince. Sivagami felt a deep loathing rise in her. She wanted to scream that she hated the royal house of Mahishmathi, she wanted every one of them dead for what they had done to her father.

  Revamma came back, shouting instructions to light the courtyard. Soon the smell of burning oil from the lamps filled the air. Sivagami could see faces more clearly. There were almost two hundred boys and girls; more girls than boys. Their ages ranged from six to eighteen.

  Revamma walked up with a bowl of saffron and turmeric water, with a lamp floating in it, to give the prince a traditional welcome. Standing by the side of the prince, Sivagami was suddenly aware that the entire process appeared uncomfortably similar to the welcome given to a bride and groom when they first step into their house. She stepped back without anyone noticing it.

  In a voice dripping with honey, Revamma invited the prince to take a tour of the orphanage. She led him in, followed by the large crowd of children. Sivagami continued to stand in the centre of the courtyard, holding all her worldly possessions in the cloth bundle pressed close to her heart.

  ‘That old woman is Kalakuda; no, she is more poisonous than Kalakuda,’ Sivagami was startled by the voice behind her. A young woman of her age stood smiling at her.

  ‘I am Kamakshi,’ said the girl with a smile. She had a complexion as smooth as that of polished granite. When she smiled, her slightly crooked canine teeth gave her a naughty, childlike appearance. Her eyes sparkled with vigour.

  ‘Sivagami.’

  ‘I heard your name from Revamma,’ Kamakshi said. ‘How did you manage to get the prince of Mahishmathi to carry your bundle?’ she asked.

  ‘Why should it concern you?’ Sivagami asked, surprised at the audacity of a complete stranger to ask such an intimate question. But when Kamakshi’s face fell, she realized her reply had been harsh. After all, the girl was only trying to be friendly.

  ‘How many inhabitants does this orphanage have?’ she quickly changed the topic.

  ‘How does it matter? It’s just the two of us now,’ Kamakshi said, looking around the empty courtyard and then bursting into laughter. Sivagami remained stiff and wary.

  ‘There are two hundred and thirty-two as of today evening. You may be wondering how I know the exact number. Well, you are looking at the mukhya of the girls in this orphanage. Naturally, every other girl hates me. Since you are new and do not know of my wickedness, I thought I would try to befriend you.’ Kamakshi’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Despite herself, Sivagami found she was smiling. They could hear the entourage going through the first floor with the prince. Revamma’s voice rose over the hum from hundreds of mouths.

  ‘Come, I’ll show you your room,’ Kamakshi said. ‘There’s a spare bed in my room now that my roommate’s left. I think you can stay there until Revamma finds you another.’ Sivagami looked around the dilapidated structure and shuddered. Slowly, her reality was sinking in. She had to spend at least the next few months here, among these people, in this ramshackle structure that looked like it might collapse in the next rain. And there was nothing to look forward to except maybe the life of a servant girl in someone’s house. She shook away the depressing thought. There would be time enough for that later.

  She
saw a boy sneaking into a dimly lit room. Kamakshi paused her chatter and followed her gaze.

  ‘It’s that devil, Uthanga,’ she said. She tiptoed into the room with Sivagami close behind. Sivagami looked around. There was a row of stoves with ash piled inside them. Clumps of charcoal lay on the floor. Big copper vessels with charred bottoms were stacked in a corner. It was the kitchen of the orphanage. The boy was rummaging through the shelves when they surprised him. It was the same boy who had been sleeping at the gate when Sivagami had arrived.

  ‘Thief!’ Kamakshi caught him by his ears and the boy howled.

  ‘You can’t punish me, you whore,’ he said. Kamakshi gave his ears another twist. The boy squealed.

  ‘Next time you use filthy words, I will fill your dirty mouth with ash,’ Kamakshi threatened.

  ‘Ayyo, leave me, Akka. It hurts.’

  Kamakshi gave another twist, ‘Akka? Hmm, now you are getting reformed. I think this method works.’

  ‘Ayyo, this is not for me. It is for Thondaka. They are planning to drink.’

  ‘Drink! Let me tell Aunt Revamma,’ Kamakshi caught Uthanga’s other ear and twisted it too.

  ‘Bitch, her husband is the one bringing the toddy for the party. Why are you punishing me? Ask Thondaka if you dare. You are not my mukhya, you are the girls’ mukhya. I do what my mukhya tells me to,’ Uthanga cried and tried to wriggle away from Kamakshi.

  ‘I will report it to the prince,’ Kamakshi said, leaving him.

  ‘You do not know any prince,’ Uthanga said, massaging his ears with both hands.

  ‘No, but this Akka does,’ she said pointing to Sivagami. ‘Now come to my room and clean it. We have to make arrangements for Akka,’ Kamakshi ordered, shoving the boy out of the kitchen. She took the broom from the corner and handed it to him. She took the bundle from Sivagami’s hands and placed it over his head.