Ally only had an idea of where the armoury lay. She had to go northeast of the mansion. Once she was sure she had moved past hearing distance of the bhoomipathis, she started running. The grassland gave way to woods and there was a crude path leading up a small hillock. From somewhere ahead, a pack of dogs barked. A bat flew close to her head. She tried to push down a growing sense of trepidation. This is madness, she thought as she ran up the path. This could get you killed, a voice whispered inside her. She gulped down her fear and ran up the hill. The dogs’ barks were becoming louder.
Ally stopped when she heard a low growl. She looked around, her heart thudding in her chest. The bushes around her exploded then, and she screamed. The attack came from behind. Before she knew it, pain shot up from her ankles. A huge dog had sunk its teeth into her flesh. She tried to kick it with her other leg, when another dog jumped from the bushes on her left, its teeth bared, gunning for her throat. She caught its neck. It struggled, twisting its body to get free. She could feel its foul breath on her face. With a scream she slammed it down. It twisted, yelped and jumped up again. She lost her balance and fell down. Soon more dogs were attacking her. She was being bitten everywhere. She finally managed to roll away, freeing herself from the dogs. She was bleeding all over, but thankfully she was on her feet again. She kicked the next dog that attacked, sending it scampering through the bushes. The other dogs were wary now, and they circled her, growling low all the time. She kicked a stone at a dog’s snout, and the animal rolled down onto the ground, yelping. Blood sprang from its wound, and the other dogs ran to lick it. She dove away from the pack and took off. She was aiming for a huge banyan tree ahead. The dogs started chasing her. Their barks will have warned Guha’s men, she thought with desperation. She could hear their panting. Any moment now one of them would jump on her back and rip open her neck.
When she reached the tree, she froze. There was a chasm separating her from the tree. It was almost fifteen feet wide. She did not know how deep it was, but she could hear the gurgle of water over rocks. The dogs had reached, but they were fanning out. They knew she was trapped. Ally was not sure she would be able to jump across. The pack of dogs started closing in. She moved to the edge of the gap. Her foot dislodged a pebble which fell down the crevice. It hit the water after an uncomfortably long interval. The pack leader of the dogs growled. She knew what that meant. She said a silent prayer to Amma Gauri, and leapt.
For a moment, she saw herself being pulverized on the rocks below. Her fingers touched the swaying arms of the banyan and she gripped it for dear life. The pack stood at the edge, barking loudly, angry at the loss of their prey. She swayed from side to side as she pulled herself up the tree. She sat on a branch, her legs dangling on either side and wept. Her hands were sticky with blood and her body hurt everywhere. She knew they would come in search of her soon, but she didn’t have the will to move. The moon had gone behind the clouds, and she was thankful for the darkness.
A dull thud made her start. She looked around. Again that sound. Chisel on wood. It was coming from the other side of the sprawling banyan tree. Gingerly, she started climbing up, making her way using the dangling roots of the banyan. When she reached the other side, she saw that there were lamps under the tree and the idols of snakes. This might be the holy tree of Guha’s people, thought Ally. She heard the sound again. And a low murmur. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see a huge wooden wall reaching almost to the tree.
Ally moved to the far end of a branch and leaned forward. The branch swayed in the wind and bent with her weight. It was a good twenty feet to the ground. It was a huge clearing, fenced off by the massive wall made of logs. She could see something in the distance. A gigantic figure towering over everything. It had eight arms. She blinked at the sight. The sound of pebbles falling on something wooden came to her.
The moon came out of the clutches of the clouds, spreading a dull ivory light on the clearing. Slowly, the distant figure became clearer. Amma Gauri! A gigantic statue of goddess Kali was staring back at her. Ally folded her hands and bowed her head. She had cracked the secret of how the stones reached Mahishmathi.
The wind made the branch sway again at that moment, and with a sickening crack that did not even give her time to yell, the branch gave way, and Ally fell headlong inside the encampment.
THIRTY-SIX
Gundu Ramu
The orphanage was eerily silent. Apart from Gundu Ramu and Uthanga, there was no one else there. Gundu Ramu was scared to look at Uthanga. His vacant eyes stared up at the ceiling and, if not for the slight movement of his chest, he could be mistaken for dead. The only light in the dilapidated building was the one by Uthanga’s head. There was a brisk breeze outside; it made the lamp dance, and with it, the shadow of Uthanga moved on the wall. Gundu Ramu wished Revamma had lit lamps in all the rooms before she had left, but she was saving oil.
Sivagami had asked him to come to the untouchables’ lane behind the fort after the sixth toll of the bell after sunset. He had counted up to three. He had to leave now if he was to reach by the time the bell tolled six times. He shuddered at the thought of walking alone on the road, but he had to do it for his akka.
Something scurried past in the kitchen and his heart leapt out of his ribcage. He was sweating. Rats, it can only be rats, he told himself. A cat meowed somewhere outside. A window had come loose at its hinges and rattled in the wind. He had to leave. He looked out of the window. It was inky dark. I will go when the moon shows itself, he told himself. An owl hooted in the woods. As if in answer, another hooted near the orphanage. It went on and on, driving the boy mad. Near him, the lamp flickered in the breeze. Was Uthanga moving? Would he turn his head and ask him something? Gundu Ramu’s imagination was running wild. Something crashed in the kitchen and Gundu Ramu let out a cry.
‘Who is that?’ he said, his voice trembling. There was no answer. After a pause, a cat hissed. The lamp went off and the room filled with acrid smoke. Gundu Ramu did not know how to use a flint, so he could not re-light the lamp. The moon emerged from behind the clouds. Gundu Ramu ran out and did not slow down until he had reached the path by the river. Faint sounds of music came from the palace grounds in the distance. He paused when he heard the sound of oars. Who could be travelling at this time of the night? He ducked behind a bush and watched. Boats were crossing the river and coming to his shore. He watched with bated breath.
The first boat stopped a few feet away from him and a man jumped out. He splashed water when he did so and someone hissed at him not to make noise. The man treaded carefully through the slushy shore and moored the boat to a tree. Other men were climbing out. Gundu Ramu counted up to twenty men. They seemed to be waiting for someone. One of the men brought out something from his waist-band. It shimmered in the moonlight. An urumi, a twenty-foot long whip sword that could be worn around the waist like a rope. Gundu Ramu had only heard about it in stories. The man began to carefully coil it into a smaller circle, almost fist-sized. Others handed over their urumis to him and he wound them too and handed them back.
Time went by and the men began to show signs of impatience. The bell tolled for the fourth time from the palace. Gundu Ramu was getting anxious. He did not dare to go past these men but he did not want to be late either. Soon the sound of oars could be heard again. Another boat was approaching from the opposite side. When it came nearer, the leader of the group hurried to it.
‘Nala, you are late,’ he said.
‘It was not easy getting past the naval sentries. And getting so many kinds of drums was a task,’ the newcomer said.
The leader turned to one of his men and said, ‘Quick, Shivappa.’
The drums were passed on from one hand to another. Gundu Ramu watched as the man called Shivappa quickly untied a drum, removing the leather straps and the drum head. He inserted an urumi into it and put the drum back together. He repeated the process for each drum. The men then quickly changed into the clothes of performing artistes, which Nala h
ad brought.
‘Who can drum well?’ asked the leader.
‘We can, Bhutaraya,’ two men said, stepping forward.
‘Then what are you waiting for. We are the tribal artists from the hill of Marutha. We are going to have a great party in the maharaja’s palace,’ Bhutaraya said.
Everyone laughed. The men who had volunteered to drum rolled their fingers on the drum heads and they boomed. In answer, the others beat their drums. It sounded unusually loud and frightened the birds in the trees. Those who could not drum started dancing. They began walking towards the palace. Nala waited till they had disappeared and then returned to his boat.
When Gundu Ramu was sure that he was alone on the road, he got out from behind the bush and began following the men. He was sure these men pretending to be artistes were up to no good, yet it was comforting to know that there was someone else on the road with him. He was careful to keep a safe distance from them and the drumming sounds they made helped him follow them.
The bell tolled five and he hurried down the road. In the pale moonlight, the shadows of the trees took ominous shapes, yet he found solace in the fact that there were people ahead of him. No spirit or ghoul, yakshi, preta, pisacha or bhuta was going to come with so much noise. They were the creatures of silence and darkness. He wished the night would be over soon. He wished he were travelling down the royal highway, brightly lit, full of festivities and thousands of people milling around. There would be toys to see, savouries to eat. No, he had no money, so he would not have been able to buy anything, but it was nice to think about good food. When his father was alive, he used to bring him tasty laddus whenever he came back from his travels. Tears sprang to his eyes when he thought of his father. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he did not observe that the drumming had stopped till he almost ran into trouble.
Gundu Ramu quickly hid behind a tree when he saw that two sentries had stopped the drummers. He had not expected sentries. He saw some money changing hands and the sentries waved the musicians past. They were tribal and they could use the lane. He did not have any excuse to be on the untouchables’ lane at this time of the night. How would he reach where Sivagami wanted him to be?
The boy scratched his head and racked his brain. He thought of dashing past when the sentries were not looking. He thought of jumping into the river and swimming up to the point, and then remembered that he did not know how to swim. He had to go. He had to take the chance. He walked through the bushes and reached near the sentry post. He was about to step out when he heard the sound of an approaching chariot.
Gundu Ramu ducked again and peered out. A chariot was heading towards the palace at great speed. As it neared, he saw two men sitting on the driver’s seat. The sentries stood in the middle of the road and crossed their spears, barring the way. The chariot did not slow down. Gundu Ramu was sure it was going to run over the two sentries and he closed his eyes in fear. Then he heard the whinnying sound of the horse and the screech and rattle of wheels as the chariot stopped a finger’s length away from the sentries. Dust swirled around.
‘Halt!’ one of the sentries cried out.
‘Can’t a nobleman travel to the palace?’ a voice cried from within, and the head of a dwarf popped out.
‘Noblemen should use the royal highway. This road is for slaves and untouchables and they have been barred, swami,’ the sentry said.
‘Oh, no one likes to touch my Ranga and Thunga,’ the dwarf laughed. ‘They are untouchables and slaves.’
‘Swami, please, we are only doing our duty,’ the sentry said.
‘Ranga and Thunga, just show the officers how dangerous it is to touch you,’ the dwarf said.
Two giants jumped down from the chariot. The sentries held up their spears, but before they could thrust them, the giants had turned, jumped and, in one swift, synchronized motion, swirled and chopped off their heads with their swords. Gundu Ramu let out a cry and then quickly closed his mouth with his hands.
‘What was that?’ the dwarf asked.
The giants looked around. ‘Must be some wild cat,’ one of the giants said.
‘Fine, don’t waste time. I do not know what kind of stupidity Pattaraya has planned, but he should not say that it failed because of us. Hurry.’
Ranga and Thunga kicked the heads of the sentries into the water and walked towards the chariot.
‘Will your father come to dispose of their bodies, sons of whores?’ the dwarf said, and added, ‘Idiots.’ He spat on the road. The giants carried the bodies one by one and plunged them into the river.
‘Are you going to come only after doing their death rites, bastards? Get in fast,’ the dwarf said. The giants jumped into the chariot and it sped away.
Gundu Ramu let out an animal cry. He had pissed in his dhoti in fear. He started sobbing. He looked back at the forlorn road he had walked. Far away, Gauriparvat could be seen. He looked at the road where the musicians and the dwarf’s chariot had gone. He gulped in fear. There was no choice between either direction. He bit his fingers, trying to control his sobs. He sat on his haunches in the middle of the road and saw blood shining in the moonlight. He screamed and ran a few steps. He sat down again and cried. A sense of helplessness washed over him. Even at ten, he was such a coward. Good-for-nothing, fat, craven boy, his own voice mocked him from inside.
Then he remembered that he had given his word to Sivagami. He could not disappoint his akka. He might be a coward, but he was a boy of his word. If someone gives his word, he should keep it, even if it costs him his life—his father’s words came back to him. He stood up and wiped the tears off his plump cheeks with the back of his hands. Arjuna, Phalguna, Partha—he started reciting the ten names of the ancient warrior Arjuna. That was the mantra his father had taught him to keep away his fears. He started walking, constantly reciting the mantra, but his fear refused to die. Such a coward, such a fool; but he would keep his word, he said to himself, and started the mantra again as he dragged his fat body on his trembling legs through the deserted street.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Sivagami
Sivagami sat in the crowd, watching the performances of the artistes from a distance. She could feel the nervousness of Kamakshi, who was sitting near her on the sprawling palace lawns amid thousands of others. The classical performances were over and it was time for the folksongs and dances.
The Pulavars and Kurumas came in. They were storytellers. The Kurumas told tales of the ancients. There was a play on the epic Palnati war and also Kattamaraju Kathalu by the Komelu singers. Sivagami shifted in her seat and glanced at Revamma, who was watching the show gleefully. She appeared drunk. Sivagami hoped this was the case—it would help her slip by unnoticed.
Next was the puppet show. Leather puppets came alive as characters of the Ramayana. Hanuman burning Lanka made the crowds laugh, and the ten-headed puppet of the demon Ravana—majestic and grotesque—made little children in the front squeal in fear.
Then came the Hasya Geyu artistes, who sang humorous songs, some lewd, some philosophical. Sivagami saw that her friend was eagerly scanning the crowd. When Kamakshi caught Sivagami looking at her, she made a comment about how profound the songs were. It was clear to Sivagami that Kamakshi was trying to hide her nervousness. ‘What is wrong with you?’ she asked, looking straight ahead. ‘Why are you so nervous about seeing him?’
‘I am scared,’ Kamakshi said, after a moment’s silence. The voice of the singer soared, making conversation difficult.
‘Oh, don’t worry. Everyone is so involved with the performances. No one will notice you two if he is able to get inside the fort.’
‘It is not only that—’ Kamakshi hesitated.
Sivagami turned to her. Kamakshi said, ‘They…they are planning something. I am scared.’
Drums rolled like thunder and horns blared in unison from the performance stage. Sivagami mulled over her friend’s words. So, there was going to be an attack on the king tonight. That was the reason Shivappa was comin
g. She looked around and saw the number of guards and soldiers protecting the king. There was no way the Vaithalikas would be able to reach the maharaja. And how would they smuggle in their weapons? The mahapradhana himself was ensuring that every person entering was thoroughly checked. As much as she wished that the attack would happen tonight, she knew it was futile. Besides, she wanted to kill the maharaja herself. It would be a great disappointment if the king was killed by someone else.
‘They won’t even be able to get in. They will be stopped at the gate, Kamakshi. Just wait here. I will retrieve my book from Mahapradhana Skandadasa’s home, throw it over the wall to Gundu Ramu, and be back before you know it. We will go out and then you can meet him outside,’ Sivagami said.
Kamakshi nodded, half-convinced. ‘I am scared for you too, Sivagami,’ she said, grabbing her hand, ‘shall I come with you?’
Sivagami did not want to take Kamakshi with her. She would only be an impediment. She laughed. ‘But what if Shivappa manages to come in when we are away? Stay here, Kamakshi. I will be back in a trice.’
‘Are you leaving now?’ Kamakshi asked nervously.
Sivagami shook her head. She had to choose the right moment to slip away. Impatiently, she watched the performance on stage.
The Rise of Sivagami : Book 1 of Baahubali - Before the Beginning Page 32