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

by Anand Neelakantan

  ‘I thought you were a strong girl,’ she said. When Sivagami continued with her vow of silence, she began to make some space for her to lie down.

  When Sivagami woke up, it was still dark. She did not know when she had fallen asleep. The only sound in the room was the breathing of Uthanga.

  From a small crack in the roof, moonlight shimmered in. She heard some hushed whispers. Or was it the wind playing with the leaves? She listened closely. Someone was crying. ‘Kamakshi?’ she called out, but there was no response.

  She stood up, biting her lips to suppress the pain. She limped to the door and pushed it. It creaked open to the emptiness of the central courtyard. She could see a sliver of the moon hanging precariously on a cloudless sky. Someone coughed and Sivagami froze. When nothing stirred, she moved towards the door, skirting in the shadows, through the veranda.

  To her surprise, she found the main door ajar. She pulled it open and paused for someone to react to its mild creak. When nothing happened, she stepped out. A boy she did not recognize had taken Uthanga’s place on the threshold. She gingerly stepped over his sleeping body and was outside the orphanage.

  Sivagami glanced back at the building. In the shadows, with its edges accentuated by the faded moonlight, the orphanage looked gloomier than it did during the day. How could he…He should not have done this to me. I considered him like my father. She tried to suppress her rising hatred for Thimma. She debated running away somewhere. She could survive as a maid in some nobleman’s home. She knew how to read and write, maybe she could tutor some children. Anything to get away from this hellhole. She could just find her bundle, make sure her father’s manuscript was still there, and sneak away. It would be so easy and no one would know or care.

  The unconscious face of Uthanga swam in front of her eyes and Sivagami had a sinking feeling. No, she could not leave him like that. She wiped her fast-filling eyes with the back of her hand.

  Whispers again. Was that a man’s voice? She became alert. There was not a soul in the street and the voices were coming from the side of the building. She tip-toed towards the sound. She was careful to keep herself in the shadows of the building. She saw them under a big fig tree—a man and woman in deep embrace. Behind them the abandoned stable of cart horses rose a few hundred feet away.

  Sivagami edged towards them, close enough to hear their conversation. She hid behind a bush. She could only see their profiles in the dark. Up close, it appeared to be a young couple—around her age perhaps.

  The boy was kissing the girl with a passion that made Sivagami blush. The girl was resisting, but from the eager way her hands dug into his back, it was evident that she was equally passionate. The girl succeeded in pushing him away and stood breathing deeply, leaning against a tree. She brushed away her hair from her face. Kamakshi! What was she doing here? And who was that boy?

  ‘Please, Shiva, please listen to me,’ Kamakshi pleaded.

  ‘I am fed up of this life too, Kama. I will come for you soon and we will go away,’ the boy responded.

  Kamakshi turned her face away. ‘Why can’t we go now? I am scared to be here. That eunuch keeps coming, asking for me, and it is only Revamma’s greed that has saved me so far.’

  Eunuch? Sivagami stood wondering. And how had Revamma’s greed kept Kamakshi safe?

  ‘Now that a new girl has come, maybe Keki will set eyes on her instead. It is a matter of just a few days, my love,’ the boy said.

  ‘I don’t want anything to happen to Sivagami. She is a dear friend, Shiva.’

  ‘One has to be selfish when it is a matter of one’s own safety, Kama. I would prefer that new girl to be in Keki’s trap than you.’

  ‘I don’t want you talking like that.’ Kamakshi turned away from him. He tried to cup her face in his palms.

  What were they talking about? Keki? The eunuch who had stopped them on her way to the orphanage the previous evening? A cold realization crept up on her. There were no girls in the orphanage who were older than her except Kamakshi. Sivagami put two and two together. When she looked again, the boy was holding Kamakshi close to him. He looked down at her face. ‘Kama, I am sorry. Just be patient for a few more days. We are planning something big. Nothing will be the same again—there will be no slaves, no orphans. The rule of kings and noblemen will be a thing of the past. Everyone will have equal rights. All of us will decide who will rule us.’

  Kamakshi sighed. ‘You keep talking about fanciful things. Nowhere in the world do such things happen. Is it not god’s will that some have to be noble and some small folk and…’

  ‘And some slaves like me, to be treated worse than animals, isn’t it Kama?’ The edge in the boy’s voice alarmed Sivagami.

  ‘I…I did not mean that, Shiva. Please, please look at me, please.’

  Kamakshi threw her hands around his neck and started kissing him. He resisted and tried to push her away. She hugged him closer and when he tried to say something, she kissed him on his mouth. His fingers entwined with hers and he pressed her to the tree. Without moving his lips from hers, his hands fumbled with her kaunchika. He cupped her breasts and she turned her face away and moaned softly.

  Sivagami’s face turned hot and she felt embarrassed. She wanted to run back to her room, but despite her wish, her legs wouldn’t move. Kamakshi’s kaunchika was untied now, and her lover was sucking her left nipple. Her hands played with his unruly hair and she pulled him up to kiss his lips. He obliged but went lower again, kissing her all over. Her fingers tugged at the knot of his dhoti.

  Suddenly, he freed himself and stepped away. Kamakshi opened her eyes. Sivagami was intrigued by the sudden change in Shiva’s attitude.

  ‘What happened, Shiva?’ she heard Kamakshi say. He did not reply.

  ‘Are you angry?’ Kamakshi asked.

  ‘No, my love. It’s just that I want you to be pure always,’ he said, tying Kamakshi’s kaunchika back.

  ‘I have always been yours and always will be.’ There was a tremor in Kamakshi’s voice.

  ‘In case I don’t return alive…’

  She closed his mouth with her hand. ‘Nothing will happen to you. The gods will take care of you.’

  ‘Gods, ah,’ he snorted as he ran his fingers through her hair. ‘Just like they have taken care of our people always? The gods don’t have time for us, Kama.’

  ‘Shh, I don’t want you to talk like that,’ she said and kissed him again. This time he kissed her back tenderly. The two stood transfixed, lips locked, fingers entwined, and hearts keeping the same rhythm. A gentle breeze played with Kamakshi’s hair. Moonlight coloured it silver. Sivagami’s eyes filled up. It was the most beautiful sight she had seen in her life. It was so soothing, so divine, that for a moment she wished she was the girl in the lover’s embrace. She smiled, trying to give a face to the lover, and stopped herself. No, not that person. Not the son of the king who had killed her father. Not that stupid, good-for-nothing, soft-spoken Mahadeva.

  ‘If only my brother would join us,’ Sivagami heard Shivappa say. He was standing with his hands on Kamakshi’s shoulders. She was tracing figures on his chest with her fingers.

  ‘He is the eldest, the scion of our tribe, the promised man. I am just a pale imitation. I cannot match his skills with arms, nor his intelligence. I have to take him to meet the leader. He can convince my brother. We need him.’ Shivappa’s words were fervent.

  ‘Everything will be all right. You will win. All your dreams will come true. You are not doing this just for yourself. You are risking your life for others. The gods, too, love and favour those who act selflessly,’ Kamakshi said, looking into his eyes.

  ‘Kama, yours is the only love I want. It is what keeps me alive, keeps me going. I will come back, Kama, and by that time all men and all women will be free. There will be no king or queen, no noblemen, no upper or lower castes, no slaves. A free world, a great tomorrow.’

  Kamakshi smiled at him. ‘Don’t tempt fate. You dream too much.’

  Shiv
appa laughed, ‘Make up your mind. Should I dream or stop dreaming?’

  ‘Dream, but dream small dreams, little dreams.’

  ‘A small hut by a river?’

  ‘Hmm…’

  ‘Cows in the shed?’

  ‘Hmm…’

  ‘A beautiful girl by my side…’

  ‘Hmm…’ Kamakshi said and turned her head away, bashful.

  ‘To kiss whenever I feel like,’ Shivappa planted a kiss on her cheeks, ‘wherever I like…’ He tried to turn her face to kiss her lips, but she resisted. He took her fingers and counted them, ‘One, two, three…ten children to scream, howl and play.’

  She pushed him away. ‘Enough. This is not a small dream. You are being greedy.’

  Sivagami almost laughed. She was thrilled that there were some rebels fighting against the king. She was tempted to reveal herself and join the boy who Kamakshi called Shiva. But Thimma’s lessons about caution and patience kept her glued to where she was. She had to find out more.

  ‘Time for me to leave, Kama,’ Shiva said.

  ‘Every breath, every moment, I will be praying for you,’ Kamakshi said, and he hugged her one last time. Mist was curling through the bushes, dew dipped from leaves. As Sivagami watched, bleary-eyed, he drifted out of Kamakshi’s arms and merged with the shadows of the abandoned stable. Kamakshi kept staring at the darkness where Shivappa had vanished and her shoulders heaved. She leaned on the tree for support and then collapsed. She started sobbing.

  Sivagami walked up to her and sat down beside the crying girl. She pulled her friend close to her. Kamakshi was surprised to see Sivagami, but did not say a word. She buried her head in Sivagami’s shoulder and wept.

  Sivagami had known Kamakshi only for a day, but she felt as if she had known her forever. No words were spoken, none were required. Sivagami could feel her pain and her longing. Far away, only the tip of Gauriparvat could be seen, piercing the clouds. The morning star was smiling at them, the star on which one could make a wish. Let all dreams, little or big, of my dear friend come true, Sivagami wished. She wondered whether the star had winked at them.

  SEVENTEEN

  Pattaraya

  Things were going as planned. Prince Bijjala had already lost more than two lakh gold sovereigns to Hidumba. He was also sufficiently drunk with gold water to not realize that he was sinking more and more into debt. Pattaraya smiled to himself. It was not for money that he was playing this game. It was for control. The prince would be in no position to share what transpired tonight with anyone. He would become a puppet in Pattaraya’s hands. And Pattaraya would make good use of him to access the secret chamber where the Gauridhooli was being made.

  He heard another cheer from Hidumba and an exclamation of dejection from Bijjala.

  ‘You lose again, Your Highness. How sad,’ Keki said.

  ‘It is the apahara of Shani, Your Highness. You should feed the brahmins and give more offerings to the temple,’ Rudra Bhatta, who sat with his back to the naked Kalika, said.

  The slave stood as if he was another pillar in the room, motionless, and not even blinking. His bulky arm was flexed as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword.

  ‘One more try, Your Highness, or are you ready to give up?’ Hidumba asked, clicking the dice in his hand. Prince Bijjala grunted and took a sip of gold water. Across him, Kalika was applying scented oil to her neck. Her breasts glistened in the flickering light of the peacock lamp. Pattaraya saw Bijjala steal a glance at Kalika and the devadasi smile at him. The wench was driving the poor boy crazy, he thought. It was a masterstroke to involve Kalika in the plan. Risky, but rewarding. He was nearing his goal with every roll of the dice.

  He had bribed other bhoomipathis to ensure support against Skandadasa. Not because he needed their support if his plans worked out, but that was what was expected of a politician who was aiming for the post of mahapradhana.

  Despite the best plans, he knew that in politics things could change at any moment—loyalties flipped often, backstabbing was the norm, and ethics were a matter of lip service. But Pattaraya didn’t mind. That was what made the game exciting. This day would be a game changer, he had promised his partners in conspiracy.

  His exhibition of raw ambition to become mahapradhana was a decoy. Even Chitraveni, the bastard princess of Kadarimandalam, had thought Pattaraya was a man who was greedy for money and position. When he had sent feelers to her, she might have thought she had a man inside Mahishmathi whom she could use. Little did she know that he was using her.

  ‘Lo, His Highness has won this round, evil dwarf,’ Keki said clapping her hands and cracking her knuckles on either side of her head.

  ‘That is the power of Shani, Your Highness. You thought of feeding a hundred brahmins and the great lord has started rewarding you already. Think such noble thoughts and see how your luck turns,’ Rudra Bhatta said.

  Kalika walked from her seat, took Bijjala’s hand, and kissed his fingers. ‘For the prince of my heart,’ she said. A tremor went through the young prince. She walked back, allowing Bijjala enough time to drink in her glory with his eyes. Rudra Bhatta hurriedly closed his eyes and opened them only after the musky fragrance had faded. The slave’s eyes twitched.

  ‘Your luck has really turned, Your Highness. What is the next wager?’ Hidumba asked with a sad face.

  ‘Fifty thousand gold sovereigns,’ Bijjala said, looking at Kalika. She shook her head and continued to apply scented oil on her arms. Pattaraya could see that the smell of musk was driving Bijjala crazy with lust.

  ‘Such a small prize for such an apsara, Your Highness,’ Keki said. She walked towards Kalika and traced her curves with her fingers. ‘Look how beautiful she is. How heavenly she smells.’ She put her nose to Kalika’s neck and took a deep whiff.

  ‘One lakh sovereigns,’ Bijjala squealed.

  Does the fool even know how many zeroes there are in a lakh, thought Pattaraya. There was some protest and teasing and the game resumed. Another yamam of the game and he was sure the prince would be in no position to deny his demand. Once he had Gauridhooli in his hands, he had big plans. He had plans for the new sets of raw Gaurikanta stones too. He had a plan for everything that would take him to the throne of Mahishmathi.

  ‘Again His Highness has won. Take that, you nasty dwarf,’ Keki cooed. Bijjala clapped his hands and looked hopefully at Kalika. She smiled and stood up. Bijjala smiled foolishly at her. She walked towards him, only a thin pearl chain around her hips. She lay down on her side a few feet away, facing him, her head resting on her palm. A hookah blocked Bijjala’s view of her from her waist down to her knees. She winked at him. He started to get up, but Hidumba caught his arm.

  ‘Not so soon, Your Highness. Only one among your four coins has homed. Another three to go. So what is the wager?’

  Bijjala glared at the dwarf and looked at Kalika hopefully. She pressed her hand to her bosom and nodded her head, reassuring him. He snatched the dice and shook them in his closed fist. ‘Two lakh gold sovereigns,’ he cried.

  ‘See, that is my brave prince. My lucky prince,’ Keki kissed Bijjala on his ears and the prince blushed. He wiped the wetness of the eunuch’s spittle with the back of his hand and cried, ‘Pakida, pakida twelve.’

  Pattarya felt sorry for the prince. How naive he was. Mahishmathi deserved a better ruler. Not this fool. A girl in a short dhoti and skimpy kaunchika served everyone gold water, but Pattaraya declined it. He had never had a drink in his life, and never felt the need for it. Nor had he ever been tempted by any of Kalika’s girls. He had loved his wife when she was alive. Plump and plain his wife had been, but he was committed to her. She was the only woman he had ever had in his life. Now everything he was doing was for his daughter. When his wife had died, Mekhala was two years old. He was sad that he did not have a son, but that never stopped him from loving his daughter. He never thought of marrying again. A daughter is sometimes better than a son, he used to think.

  The only disappointment was that his
daughter had inherited her mother’s traits and intelligence. She was too honest and straightforward. Pattaraya had learned the hard way that honesty never paid. Good people often lost out. To come up in life, one needed to be devious and cunning. Life was a struggle. When Mekhala was small, he used to take her to the forest. He would point out how each creature was using deception and cunning to hunt and to escape from being hunted. One had only two choices in life, he used to say to her, to hunt or be hunted. But she would counter him by saying that animals hunted for survival. There was no greed in them. Greed is necessary for survival, he would try and explain. Greed and cunning for a man are like two horns of a bull. Without those, a bull may be powerful but would never survive in the wild.

  Ambition and strategy were like two wings of an eagle, a politician is a flightless bird without them, he would say. And she would argue that a politician was not an eagle but a vulture, feeding on the carrions after a war. Pattaraya would tell her that the only creature that survived after a war was the carrion-eating vulture. It was the only one who was unaffected by the outcome of war. For it, victory or loss in a war remained irrelevant, for its belly would be filled irrespective of whoever won. Their arguments and differences of opinion were endless, but Pattaraya would tell himself that his daughter would learn the ways of the world. She was yet young and inexperienced. She had led a sheltered life and had never faced any difficulties. She could afford to talk about honesty for she had never faced hunger and defeat.

  In his youth, when his friends whored and gambled, he had struggled hard to work off the debt his father had accumulated. He worked till his hands were numb, travelled to many countries as a merchant and paid back every copper coin his father had owed, whether or not there were records of his debts with the creditors. That had won him many friends. But even those who were surprised to find their debts cleared could not call him honest.