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

by Anand Neelakantan

  An elderly Hasya Geyu and his son were dancing around, drumming their udukkus. The son would ask a question, and the father would answer it.

  Nanna, Nanna, why is the soldier so fat? So fat? So fat? Does he eat a pig every day?

  No, son, no. Know that he has some special food and drink every day.

  Nanna, Nanna, why is the nayaka so fat? So fat? So fat? Does he fry his mutton in ghee?

  No, son, no. Know that he has some special food and drink every day.

  Nanna, Nanna, why is the adhikari so big? So big? So big? Does he drink the Soma of gods?

  No, son, no. Know that he has some special food and drink every day.

  Nanna, Nanna, why is the karyakarta so rich? So rich? So rich? Does he eat sweets dipped in honey?

  No, son, no. Know that he has some special food and drink every day.

  Nanna, Nanna, why is the bhoomipathi so strong? So strong? So strong? Is it because he eats gold?

  No, son, no. Know that he has some special food and drink every day.

  Oh, Nanna, Nanna, why is the pradhana so wise, so wise, so wise? And why is the maharaja so great, so great, so great? Is it because he too eats some special food?

  There was a stunned silence. Everyone looked at the maharaja of Mahishmathi. The queen arched her eyebrow and, with a smile of disdain, turned to the king. Her eyes challenged him to punish the impudent singer, but there was no telling how her husband would react. Her father would have cut off the head of anyone who dared to criticize him. But her husband was unpredictable, and that exasperated her to no end. She watched him intently. Prince Mahadeva, who was sitting near his father, looked at the singers with interest. Behind the royals sat the retired mahapradhana, Parameswara. The king stared at the father-and-son duo and they cowered in fear. The maharaja grunted, signalling for them to continue.

  The entire assemblage waited for the answer from the old man. The old man’s voice was meek. He muttered something, but drowned out his own answer in a flurry of drumbeats. He bowed and started to leave, but the maharaja gestured for him to put his drum down. With shivering hands the singer did so. His son was sweating.

  ‘Sing clearly,’ the maharaja said.

  The old man gulped and stood staring at his toes. Suddenly, a voice rose from the crowd, ‘Because the maharaja eats a special food like all those in the government.’

  Maharaja Somadeva stood up, angry.

  The son sang in a soft voice, ‘Nanna, Nanna, what is that special food you talk so much about? What is it that all the government eats?’

  The soldiers rushed from all sides to arrest them. The old man continued, looking down at his toes, ‘Son, son, it is the blood of the peasant, the sweat of the weaver, the flesh of the artisan, the words of the poet, the trade of the trader. It is us they all eat and become fat, strong, rich, wise and noble.’

  For some time, the only sound that could be heard was the rustling of feet. A baby cried despite its mother’s best attempts to quiet it down. Sivagami stood up with bated breath, pulling Kamakshi up with her.

  Shocking the entire assemblage, the maharaja began to roar with laughter. ‘Mad man trying to talk wise things,’ Maharaja Somadeva said, and the soldiers who had come to arrest the father-and-son duo stopped in their tracks.

  Maharaja Somadeva slapped his thighs and laughed again. Soon, taking his cue, the entire crowd was laughing. A few repeated the lines of the Hasya Geyus, and people started throwing coins at the father-son duo. The maharaja called them to the dais and they bowed deep to the monarch. He unloosened his diamond-studded anklet and dropped it into the open palms of the elder singer.

  ‘Sing courageously. Sing without fear,’ the maharaja said and the singer duo bowed again and again. The air reverberated with deafening slogans of ‘Maharaja Somadeva Vijaya’. Sivagami watched the father-son duo walk down from the dais without showing their backs to the king. Sivagami could see how cleverly the maharaja had deflected the criticism and made it a joke to be laughed at. The enemy was formidable, she could see that. It would not be an easy task to get her revenge against such a sly ruler. He had the crowd eating from his hands.

  The loud sounds of drums heralded the arrival of the Kula Purana narrators. They sang about the greatness of the Mahishmathi family. How goddess Gauri had given them the holy Gauriparvat. How the great ancestor of Somadeva had thrown away the yoke of Kadarimandalam’s vassalage three hundred years ago, and how Maharaja Somadeva’s grandfather, Paramabhattara, had conquered the Nishadas, and how Somadeva had brought the Kuntala to vassalage under Mahishmathi and subdued the Kalachuris. They spoke about the great wars that the ancestors of the Mahishmathi dynasty had fought, and about the valour of the princes. They were compared to Rama of Ayodhya and Arjuna the Pandava. In their generosity, they were compared to Karna; in scholarship, to Ravana. Sivagami could not stand it anymore. The bell tolled five. It was past midnight. Time to move.

  When the singers started Tirpu Kathalu, the stories of judgement, she whispered to Kamakshi that she was leaving. Revamma was dozing a few feet away. Kamakshi requested her one last time to reconsider her decision, but Sivagami was adamant. She loosened her friend’s grip, one finger at a time, from her wrist and slipped into the crowd. She did not notice Prince Mahadeva, who had been watching her, get down from the dais and follow her.

  The crowd thinned as she walked away from the grounds. The clutter of offices in the south end appeared farther than they were in the dim light. There were sentries standing here and there, and she knew that someone or the other would question her presence in this part of the palace soon. She had her answer ready. She was going to the Antapura. She was a girl sent by Keki to entertain some officials. She was not sure whether they would buy it, but that was the only plausible lie she could think of.

  As she had feared, there were a couple of sentries standing at the gate of the palace gardens, beyond which the buildings of the court officials stood. She walked up boldly, as if she had done this a hundred times. They stopped her and she gave them a dazzling smile.

  ‘Where are you going?’ they asked.

  ‘Someone has called me,’ she said, coyly. She hoped that, in the dim light, they would not see her hands trembling.

  ‘Who? Who has called you?’ they asked. She racked her brain for an answer. Whose name should she take?

  ‘Sivagami?’

  Shocked, she turned and found herself facing Prince Mahadeva. The sentries bowed, ‘We are sorry, Your Highness. We did not know it was you,’ they said, moving their spears to make way.

  Mahadeva looked embarrassed. Sivagami walked past the guards into the garden. She could hear him following. She cursed her luck. The last thing she wanted was a chat with this stupid lovestruck prince.

  ‘Sivagami,’ Prince Mahadeva called. She shuddered at the tremor in his voice. He ran up beside her and stood facing her. Moonlight cast a glow on his hair and he looked as handsome as a gandharva. The breeze carried the fragrance of parijata. She was getting desperate. She knew what was coming, and, meanwhile, poor Gundu Ramu would be waiting outside. The prince was blabbering something, but she barely listened. Her mind was on retrieving the book. He grabbed her hand and looked intently into her eyes. She tried to wriggle away, but he held on firmly.

  ‘Please, please, Sivagami… I…I…’ Prince Mahadeva gulped. ‘Will you marry me?’ he asked finally, gathering courage. For a moment, she could not believe what she had heard. Then the irony of everything struck her. Here she was, determined to take revenge for her father’s killing and the murderer’s son wanted to marry her. He thinks I would want to be a bride in the royal family I have vowed to wipe off the face of the earth. She started laughing though she knew she was hurting him.

  ‘Sivagami, please…’ he pleaded.

  But she only laughed more. His hand left hers. Without a word, he turned on his heels and, like a chastised dog, he walked away. She stood watching him with rising pity and contempt. She had no time to waste on such idiots. One day, I
will kill you and your entire family, she whispered. She walked towards Skandadasa’s home. It was fortunate for her that he had decided to stay on in his old house. She had removed the latch of a window in the rear during her last visit. She was planning to get in through there. Surprisingly, there were no sentries around. She skirted the house and went to the rear side. The broken window had still not been fixed. She pulled it open and entered. Now she had to just find the book and run. This was going to be easier than she had thought. She started searching the drawer of the table in which she had seen him put her book.

  Then she froze. What was that noise outside?

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Ally

  Ally regained consciousness when a pail of water was splashed on her face. Pain shot up from her feet first and she cried aloud.

  ‘The bitch has woken up,’ she heard someone say. It took her a moment to regain her moorings. Where was she? Images of being chased by a pack of dogs flashed through her mind. Another pail of water hit her face and it traced its path past various wounds on her body.

  ‘They have gone to bring Bhoomipathi Guha,’ said someone else. ‘They will be here soon.’

  Suddenly, everything came back in a rush. She tried to run but was yanked back by the ropes that bound her. She realized that she was tied to a pole. She looked around, trying to take in the scene. A rough hand caught her chin and turned her face. She was looking at a man who was leering at her.

  ‘Did you fall from the sky?’ he asked. A few of his companions sniggered. Ally did not reply. She was trying to assess the situation. She gritted her teeth as pain shot up her body again.

  The man began to grope her breasts and there was nothing she could do as her hands were tied behind the pole. ‘I am the woman of your bhoomipathi. If you still want to lay your hands—’ she smiled at him through the locks of hair that fell on her face. He pulled his hand away as if he had touched fire.

  ‘Set me free or you will regret it. My man will not be pleased if he sees you have treated his beloved like this,’ Ally said, pushing her luck.

  ‘Ha, the bhoomipathi has more concubines than this island has crows. Let him free you if he wants. It is none of Ketaka’s business. But until he comes, bitch, you will remain tied up,’ Ketaka said. As he stepped away, he shouted at his men to resume their work.

  Ally surveyed the place. There was that gigantic statue of Kali, the fearsome form of Amma Gauri that she had seen before her fall. She was tied near it, in front of a row of huts where perhaps Ketaka and the other slaves lived. The statue towered over everything, rising more than sixty feet high and resting on a gigantic chariot with wooden wheels. Combined, it must be more like hundred feet, thought Ally. A zigzag-shaped ramp ran from the bottom of the hillock to the crown of the statue. Hundreds of children were dragging carts up the ramp, as supervisors urged them on with abuse and lashes. The boys looked like ants carrying food up their anthill. When they reached the top, they emptied their carts into the head of the statue and the contents rattled into the wooden idol with a lot of clatter. Hundreds of torches burnt on either side of the ramp.

  Ingenious, thought Ally. That was how they were transporting the Gaurikanta into the city. Every Mahamakam, a Kali statue from the forest dwellers reached Mahishmathi city with great fanfare in a raft led by a bhoomipathi. The statue was paraded through the streets in a wooden chariot drawn by thousands of fervent devotees amidst the chanting of mantras. People would throw their meagre savings, some even threw their gold or silver ornaments, as Amma Kali rode through the streets. The famous Gauri Jatra. For nine days Mahishmathi would celebrate the coming of Amma Gauri into their city, and on the evening of the ninth day, the statue would be immersed in the river.

  They must have some way to retrieve the stones once the statue was thrown into the river. Perhaps an underground passage from the river bottom that led to a place where they could safely get the stones out. Perhaps they got the stones once the tide changed. It would only be a case of recovering the statue in the night from the marshy shore during low tide. Difficult, but not an impossible task.

  However distasteful the thought was, Ally was slowly coming to the realization that the king knew what was happening. Maybe he was not directly involved, but he did have the powers to stop the atrocities if he wanted. He was turning a blind eye. Or was he so naïve that the corrupt officials were able to manipulate him easily? That made him an incompetent ruler.

  The ingenuity of the scheme angered her the most. Whether the king was directly involved or not, the government got the people to pay for the entire operation, too. Religion, politics and business—everything was closely interlinked in Mahishmathi. Was there ever any other country like this in the world? Ally felt anger bubbling up. She may perhaps have only a few more moments to live. She would have to do something worthwhile, something her mentor Achi Nagamma would be proud of. She had to give a jolt to this evil system before she died. Her time was running out.

  She looked around, trying to devise some plan. The statue stood on the chariot atop the highest point of the hill. The carpenters were giving it their final touches. What could she do? Amma Gauri, show me the way, she cried. Her eyes locked on the bottom end of the wooden wheels. Wedges! To stop the chariot from rolling down the hill. She wished she was free. She could have done something if only she had not fallen down and gotten caught. She felt tears coming to her eyes, but she willed them to stop. This was not the time to panic, or cry, but to think—the words came to her, as if Achi Nagamma was speaking to her.

  It was then that she saw him. Kattappa! He was carrying a massive log on his shoulders, waiting in line with the other slaves. Her heart leapt with joy. To know that this man was alive was itself a good omen, a sign from Amma Gauri.

  ‘Kattappa,’ she called out. For a fleeting moment, she thought he had turned his head and seen her. But there was no response. He continued walking, taking the great weight of the log on his shoulders. If only she could talk to him, if only…She pressed her lips to control her sobs. Her last hope was walking away. Ally felt tired suddenly. As the feeling of defeat sank in, her wounds started throbbing. Would she get rabies from the bites? For a shuddering moment, she imagined the kind of death that would bring. No, Ally would not die like a dog. She shook her head and raised her face to Amma Gauri. You are just a wooden statue, with a heart of stone, she told her goddess.

  ‘Devi.’

  She turned, startled by the voice. Before her was Kattappa, on his knees. A guard was standing a few feet away, watching them. He asked Kattappa to hurry. Kattappa had a cup of water in his hand. He rose and brought the cup to her lips. She drank gratefully.

  Though the water was over, she continued to act like she was drinking. She whispered, ‘Kattappa, can you do something for me?’

  The slave looked fearfully at the guard. The guard cried that he did not have all the time in the world.

  ‘Listen, don’t look. Just listen. There are two wedges under the front wheels of that chariot. Can you dislodge them?’

  For a moment there was no reply. ‘It is all right, if you don’t want to do it. It may not move and you will lose your life,’ Ally whispered again, suppressing the wave of helplessness that washed over her.

  ‘Devi,’ the slave whispered back, ‘you saved my life. I shall remain your slave until you die or you free me. My life is nothing. I shall do it if that is what you command.’

  Ally took a deep breath. Was she sending the poor slave to his death? Let Amma Gauri judge me, she whispered. ‘Do it,’ the words were out of her mouth and now there was no going back. She heard a whip lashing the slave’s back. The guard was livid because Kattappa was taking too much time. The slave did not even blink. He stared at Ally and nodded his head with a smile. Another lash licked his back. In a swift moment, Kattappa caught the whip that was curling in the air to hit him for the third time. He yanked it, catching the guard off balance. The guard fell on the ground.

  Ally watched with bated breath as Ka
ttappa ran towards the statue. When she looked towards the other side of the ground, she gasped in horror. Jeemotha, Akkunda and Guha were entering through the gate. They were rushing towards her, led by Ketaka.

  ‘Kattappa, hurry,’ she screamed at the top of her voice.

  Kattappa grabbed a massive hammer from the work bench of a carpenter and ran up the hillock. The guards were shouting and screaming, but Ally saw him climbing the ramp, two steps at a time. He still had a limp, but that did not slow him down. He reached the base of the chariot and smashed the wedge that held the wheel in place into smithereens. Arrows were being shot at him by the guards, and spears thrown, but he rolled away and was back on his feet in the blink of an eye. He smashed the second wedge under the other wheel. Ally braced for the chariot to roll down. Nothing happened. Her shoulders slumped. Jeemotha was running towards her, and she could now clearly make out the rage on his face.

  ‘Oh god, oh god,’ she prayed. The chariot groaned and creaked, but only tottered at the edge of the slope. Guards were running up to Kattappa now, and the slave stood helpless for a moment. Lost, everything was lost; Ally bit her lips. Her plan had failed.

  Then she saw Kattappa putting his massive shoulders to a wheel and pushing it. An arrow lodged in his arm and blood spurted, but the slave continued to put his entire strength into pushing the wheel forward. The wooden ramp began to groan and the boys and men on it started screaming. They hurried to scramble down as the ramp bent and twisted. The chariot was shaking, but had not moved an inch. Even from a distance, she could see Kattappa’s veins stretching over his bulging muscles. The guards had reached him now.

  Did she hear a noise? Ally blinked and looked again. The chariot swayed at the edge. Then with a mighty, creaking noise, the ramp gave way first. The guards who were running up stopped in their tracks. Their weapons dropped with a clang. The torches on the ramp fell down, flared high and were extinguished. The first thud was dull. The ramp broke into splinters, sending wood pieces spiralling in the air. Then the juggernaut started rolling down the hill, gathering momentum with every second.