Vanara

by Anand Neelakantan

  Baali made it worse by trying to make up for his harshness when they sat down to drink after the day’s work. His brother’s declaration of his affection for his foolish, yet lovable, younger brother made Sugreeva cringe. He did not want Baali’s affection, but his respect as an equal, which Baali never bothered to give. He was sick of playing the clumsy little brother. He was desperate for a word of praise from Baali.

  The worst times were when Tara and Prabha visited them to see how the city was progressing. Baali would order Sugreeva around, ask him to fetch water, fruits or flowers for Tara. Sugreeva couldn’t stand the sense of ownership Baali showed towards him and Tara. He rarely got time to talk with Tara and hated every moment he was forced to spend with Prabha who chattered away without a pause. The love and lust for Tara and the thought that his brother would perhaps take the girl away from him forever, made him fear that he would start hating his brother. He felt guilty for the murderous thoughts he often felt towards Baali and tried to assuage his guilt by obeying his brother diligently for a few days. Invariably, Baali would notice this and would ask him whether he was sulking. Baali would try to be nicer to Sugreeva and that irritated him more. Sugreeva felt he was unwanted—by Baali, by Tara, by everyone. Riksarajas made it unbearable by often commenting how heavenly the pair of Baali and Tara looked and insisted on getting Sugreeva’s opinion every time. And when Sugreeva lost his cool, as was the case often, Riksarajas would offer his choicest brews that could cool the temper and ease the nerves.

  To add to his frustration, the city was taking shape in front of his eyes and he thought of it as a monstrosity. The city that was being built looked bland and utilitarian, something like prisons that Devas and Asuras build to incarcerate the slaves who erred. Sugreeva was worried, for he knew the enthusiasm would not last for long. Motivating speeches and a pat on the back by Baali was not going to keep people working forever without proper wages. The people had defied the council to work for the brothers. The council of elders were biding their time, too. Sugreeva could sense a crisis was looming and his brother was blind to it.

  It came sooner than he had expected.

  Chapter 14

  Tara was waiting for Prabha to get ready. It was the first sunshine after weeks of rain and the earth was as fresh as a newborn. The sun glittered from the puddles in the courtyard and the roar of the waterfall could be heard from afar. Even the rocks and the dark barks of trees had turned slimy green. Tara was feeling excited, for Baali had sent for her. It thrilled her that he had thought of her at the time of crisis. Prabha came, adjusting her hair and smoothening her dress. She waited a moment for Tara to compliment her.

  ‘Looks like you are determined to impress someone,’ Tara laughed.

  ‘As if he cares,’ Prabha said, looking away.

  Tara did not want to dwell on it further. It was comical and tragic at once that the more Prabha tried to impress Sugreeva, the more he was indifferent to her. Tara wished Sugreeva would fall for Prabha. The girl desperately needed him. She knew why Sugreeva was not attracted by Prabha and it made her uncomfortable. Tara had seen it in his eyes, the way he fumbled when he talked, the way he looked at her. She was flattered by the attention and sometimes she flirted with him to see whether Baali would get jealous. It made her guilty later, more so, because Baali did not even seem to notice it. She was giving false hope to Sugreeva and she was hurting Prabha, too. Every time she would vow that she would make it clear to Sugreeva of her feelings towards Baali. However, she could never bring herself to do it as she herself was not sure about Baali’s love for her.

  The two friends walked in silence through the forest path to the city. Tara tried to bring the customary joviality, but Prabha replied in monosyllables. When her friend talked, Tara could feel it was forced. The conversation lingered on the beauty of the wild hibiscus flowers that had bloomed on the bushes by the side of the path, about how they missed mangoes in the monsoon and such trivialities with blocks of uncomfortable silences in between.

  Tara was aware that she had been called because there was a crisis in the city. Nala and his people had stopped the work as they had not been paid and the provisions for food had run out. The flood was worse in the forests up the river and many tribal villages were inundated or washed away. An epidemic had started taking its toll and her father had left to treat people in the faraway villages. There were rumours about slave merchants coming to take advantage of the situation. There was no need to slave hunt. Vana Naras were surrendering voluntarily to work as Dasas in exchange for food for their family. Some had started selling their children for as little as a bowl of rice. The labourers wanted to be paid for the work they had done so far as they had hungry families to feed in their village. Some had lost family members in their distant villages and needed money for the burials. The council chiefs took advantage of the crisis and spread a rumour that the gods had become angry at Vana Naras for their arrogance. Vana Naras’ life purpose was to be Dasas to others and to build one’s own city was challenging the gods who had sent flood and famine to the Vana Naras to show them their place on Earth. This had led many to leave the city and beg forgiveness from the council chiefs. The construction of the city had come to a grinding halt.

  Tara should have accompanied her father, but she had chosen to stay back. In the hour of such a crisis, Tara should have felt her problems were trivial and though she had pangs of guilt occasionally, she had learned to replace such uncomfortable thoughts with daydreams. Love had made her selfish and self-centred. The unrequited love and the anticipation of a sweet conclusion made her life dreamlike, as if she was floating in air.

  When they reached the half-built city gates, she could sense the tense air. The labourers were huddled at the gate. They glared at Tara and Prabha with hostile eyes. Someone passed a lewd comment and Tara’s ears burned with anger and shame. She itched to reply but there was no time. She had to see Baali.

  When she entered Kishkinda, Sugreeva was arguing with Nala. They were standing by the side of a massive half-built pillar. Sugreeva paused his argument and stared at her. His expression softened.

  ‘Tara?’

  ‘Where is Baali?’ Tara asked. Sugreeva’s face fell. He pointed to the cave that was being carved out of the hill to the west and she started walking without saying a word. She could feel Sugreeva’s gaze on her back. She walked fast. The argument picked up heat and the harshness of it disturbed her even as she climbed up the stone steps. Her heartbeat accelerated as she was climbing up. Cold moisture-laden breeze rustled in her hair. A parijatha tree that clung on a protruding rock showered her with flowers. I feel like a bride entering her new home, she thought and blushed.

  Her eyes adjusted for the darkness inside the cave. It was huge and only a part of it was lit by the filtered sunlight that came from the mouth of the cave. This place looks like the mouth of a monster, thought Tara as she stepped into it. She felt she was being swallowed by a giant and any moment the monster would close its mouth, trapping her forever. The floor was damp and there was an earthy smell that hung in the stale air. Who builds a city like this? Though she had seen labourers chipping the stone from the hillside, it was the first time she was entering the cave.

  She called his name and the cave startled her by echoing ‘Baali’ many times. There would be no secrets in this cave. Every little conversation would be amplified and repeated, and the thought scared her. What are we without secrets that we hold close to our hearts?

  ‘Tara’, the cave boomed with Baali’s voice and it was surreal to hear her name repeated by the cave, in his voice. When the echo died down, she walked to Baali who was sitting at the farthest end on an incomplete rock cot. She went near him. She could smell him better than she could see him.

  ‘Tara.’ He said in a soft voice and her heart melted. There was a childlike helplessness in his sound. The way he called out to her made her shiver. There was no mistaking the want in his voice. She wished he would pull her to his chest and embrace her tight. For
a moment, she thought he would grab her and devour her. Her thighs went weak and her laboured breathing was amplified in the hollow cave. She waited for him to say something, do something.

  ‘They are destroying my city,’ Baali said, and Tara felt betrayed. She was relieved the darkness hid her face. She tried to ignore the musky smell of his body, tried hard to suppress the wild desire in her heart that scared her. He needed her, more as a friend than anything else. He needed sympathy, an ear to hear his complaints. She sat near him and took his hand in hers. When his fingers intertwined with hers, she felt she would lose herself and would kiss him unabashedly.

  ‘Tell me,’ Tara whispered.

  Baali pulled her up and for a moment, her heart stopped in anticipation. He hurried towards the cave mouth, dragging her along. They stood at the edge of the cave mouth, a few inches from where the hill dropped into a precipice.

  ‘Behold my city of Kishkinda,’ Baali said.

  The view was spectacular. The forest lay in an arc, as far as the eyes could see. River Pampa, which the Devas called Tungabhadra, rushed through the verdant plains like molten silver. A rainbow arched in the horizon. Tara watched a flock of birds lazily sailing through the azure sky. She could even see the waterfall near her home and like a toy, her hut. Wind howled in her ears, played with her tresses and misplaced her Uthariya from her shoulders. Her skin tingled and she was abashed with the thought that he might be looking at her bare shoulders and the promise that her breasts held.

  ‘Here, look down, Tara,’ Baali whispered in her ears. His breath was hot, and she gripped his fingers tight, wanting to keep him close forever.

  ‘I am building the most beautiful city in the world, Tara. A haven for our people, where they would be safe from the enemies. A place where every Vanara would be an equal and no one would ever have to sell themselves or their kin as slaves. Kishkinda would be a place for all the oppressed people of the world. But our people are fools. They cannot see the future. They are protesting for petty things like a bowl of rice. I want you to talk to them, Tara. You talk sweet, you talk well. I lose my temper if I hear people talking without sense. Why can’t we starve today for a greater tomorrow? Only you can make them understand, Tara. Talk to them.’

  Tara was flattered and flabbergasted at the same time. She was excited that he trusted her with such a task about something that was so close to his heart. She was surprised by his naïvety. How did he expect people to dream about cities when their loved ones were starving? Baali was staring at her face and he might have sensed the uncertainty. He grabbed her wrist again and dragged her in.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ she laughed. Tara loved his childlike enthusiasm, the way his face lit up when he talked about his dream. He took her to another corner of the cave. He let go of her wrist and knelt, facing the wall. He was fumbling, looking for something.

  ‘What?’ she asked impatiently. With a whoosh, a fire lit up in the corner. Baali turned, grinning from ear to ear. A beautiful fire danced behind him. Tara looked around in astonishment. The cave, that looked gloomy and damp earlier, had metamorphosed into something enchanting. The walls were pearlescent with the light. Behind her, on the rugged wall and the roof of the cave, their shadows intermingled, and appeared they had merged into each other. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

  ‘The holy fire,’ Baali whispered. His husky voice dissolved in the air. Her breath became shallow. He moved towards her and she closed her eyes. Fire danced behind them, the golden hue of flames caressing her face. Light touched the beads of sweat on her brows and glittered. His musky smell made her giddy, her knees went week. He was so near, his hot breath on the tip of her earlobes made her breathless.

  ‘I have brought fire, Tara. The fire that was always denied to our people. I want this to burn at the centre of our city eternally. The fire to be shared by all.’

  She turned and kissed him full on his lips, unabashed, hungry. Tara tensed up when she felt a moment of hesitation in him. Then he swept her off her feet and carried her to the stone cot. She buried her face in his broad chest, drinking him in.

  Later, when the fire had died down and when she had woken up, she saw him standing at the entrance of the cave. She sat up for a moment, relishing her guilt. She adjusted her hair and dress and walked to him.

  ‘Sugreeva seems to be angry’ Tara said, standing by his side.

  ‘He is just a boy, Tara. He doesn’t understand. He is sulking because I didn’t allow him to put decorative statues—what do you call that—er . . . sculptures? I want my city to be safe from Asuras and Devas. He wants a toy city, in which he can paint weird colours and make grotesque figures or make fountains where people must walk. He is a kid. Talk to our people, Tara. Please.’

  When she looked into his eyes, she saw a touching earnestness. She nodded her head. His face lit up with a smile and he squeezed her palm. It sent rivulets of fire through her nerves. The magic was never-ending, the enchantment of the cave. She leaned towards him, with a faint hope that he would lean down and kiss her lips, at least peck her cheeks. She felt his fingers loosen up and leave hers. Before she could react, he had left her, feeling unfulfilled, empty. She sighed and relished every moment she had spent with him. His smell still lingered in the air. She looked longingly at the cave he had vanished into and for a moment, wished she stayed in his arms, in his lap, in the rough half-carved stone cot in the dark corner of the cave. Just her and him till the end of the world.

  Tara descended the steps, feeling light-footed and heavy-headed at the same time. She had no idea how she was going to help Baali achieve his dream. When she reached down, she saw Prabha sitting like a stone in the shade of an overhanging rock. Tara had forgotten her and felt guilty. She went near her and spoke to her but Prabha stared at her with a stony face and looked away. Tara attempted to kindle some conversation. She wanted Prabha to make fun of her about the time she had spent with Baali inside the cave. She wanted to share the moment with her friend and relive the possibilities. She wanted to deny there was anything between her and Baali, while giving her just a hint to tease her about her love. Prabha was in no mood to talk and Tara had a big task to do. She left her friend alone and walked to the city gate.

  The labourers were still huddled together, but the crowd had thinned down. An idea started forming in her head. She searched for Sugreeva but could not find him. She saw him standing by the river in the grove that had started to thicken with wild plants and flowers. She hurried to Sugreeva. He saw her coming but made no attempt to move. When she reached him, he stood with his arms crossed over his broad shoulders. She did not like the frown on his face, the suggestion of jealousy and the suppressed anger.

  ‘Devi.’ He bowed stiffly. This was going to be difficult, she thought as she put on her best smile.

  ‘Sugreeva, your brother needs help.’

  ‘Oh? I didn’t know that. I wonder why he needed you to tell me that?’

  ‘He . . .’ Tara wasn’t prepared for this. She fumbled.

  ‘He considers me a good-for-nothing child, to be pampered, to be sheltered from all worries, to be scolded and to be controlled.’

  ‘Not at all, Sugreeva. He respects you a lot.’

  ‘Respect!’ Sugreeva scoffed, ‘Tell me that he loves me a lot—and that I can believe. Perhaps. But, he has no respect for me. I am just a child to him. I will remain a child to him even if we both live up to our eighties.’

  ‘Elder brothers are like that everywhere,’ Tara laughed, trying to ease the difficult situation.

  ‘Why are you taking his side, Devi? Is there something you want me to do for him?’

  The formality of his tone was unsettling. Tara braced herself and plunged in. She said they must solve the crisis. The city was every Vanara’s dream, but the labourers were also right. One can’t expect them to work on empty stomachs. Provision for food and clothing had to be arranged but no one would lend anything to an untouchable caste like Vanaras.

  ‘What are you suggesti
ng, Devi?’ Sugreeva asked peering into her eyes.

  ‘Why don’t you call me Tara,’ she laughed, desperate to lighten the mood. He remained stiff and formal.

  ‘Am I to understand that you are asking me to somehow arrange for food for the labourers?’

  ‘Only you can do it, Sugreeva,’ Tara smiled with relief.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know. You will find a way.’

  ‘This city that is being built is monstrous. There are no aesthetics, no art, no plan—it is an insult to call this a city. This looks like what Riksarajas would have made after getting high on cannabis on his worst day.’

  ‘It is your brother’s dream.’

  ‘Why should I do it for my brother?’

  Tara swallowed. He waited for her answer. She looked away and said, ‘Do it for me.’

  Sugreeva bowed and walked away. She stood still, the silence of the grove enveloping her, pondering whether she had told him the right thing. Had she given any hint to him unknowingly? Or did she give the hint deliberately, though she was not ready to admit it to herself? She was not sure. She could hear him negotiating with the labourers and some excited shouting. She stood watching the river flow, without a care to its distant destination. Crows cawed in the trees, breaking the spell of silence. Two crows were fighting for a slice of fish and she shooed them away. They flew away, still fighting with each other.

  When she returned to the city gate, only Prabha was waiting for her. Her face was dark, and it seemed she had cried. When Tara reached her, she forced herself to smile.

  ‘Where are the others?’ Tara asked.

  ‘He has left with the labourers,’ Prabha said. Tara felt heavy. They walked back in silence. When they reached the hut, Prabha held Tara’s hand.

  ‘I am going away, Tara,’