Vanara

by Anand Neelakantan

  The brothers met at the banks of Narmada twenty-one days later at the same temple where Sugreeva had had his meal. Baali was sitting at the temple steps, conversing with the priest when Sugreeva stumbled upon him. For a moment, the brothers looked at each other, overwhelmed with relief. Then they ran to each other’s arms. They hugged and punched each other, laughing, teasing, wrestling. They were relieved about each other’s safety.

  After thanking the priest, they started their long journey home. Baali said how worried he was for his brother’s safety. Sugreeva said how he had walked back, when he became sure Baali was looking for him. Sugreeva was relieved to know that the money had reached safely. He never told Baali how he had got the money. When Baali asked, Sugreeva said with a wry smile, ‘We got a little help from Heheya king Karthya Veerarjuna.’

  Baali lamented the fate of the slain Heheya king and praised the late king’s generosity even to monkey men. Sugreeva indulged his brother with a smile. They both found the little strain and distance that had crept in their relationship had melted away. They laughed at each other’s jokes and shared the dream of Kishkinda. They argued over many things and wrestled in river banks and valleys to flex their muscles. When they crossed river Pampa, Baali turned to Vaidya Sushena’s home.

  ‘You seem to have lost the way to your own city, brother,’ Sugreeva laughed, ‘Kishkinda is this way to the right.’

  ‘Ah,’ Baali laughed, ‘I was waiting to give you a surprise. Do you remember the vow I had made when we were children? The day has come to fulfil that vow. Brother, we are going to Vaidya Sushena’s home. I am going to introduce you to your future sister-in-law, Tara.’

  Baali beamed in happiness and Sugreeva stood, struggling to bring a smile to his face.

  Chapter 20

  ‘Sushena, will you offer your daughter’s hand to me in marriage?’ Baali asked. Her knees went weak and eyes misty. This was not happening. This is just a stupid dream, she thought. And she saw her father bow down. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined Baali would come to her home and ask for her hand in marriage. She heard her father’s voice crack with emotion while saying, ‘Baali, it’s a great honour but we’re just poor forest folks.’

  ‘Swami, I’m just a dreamer with a half-built city. Can I marry your daughter?’

  Tara wanted to say it is no longer a half-built city. She had waited every moment for his arrival to show him the beautiful city she had built for him. She had imagined meeting him in Kishkinda.

  Her father came forward and kept his trembling palm over theirs. ‘I have limited means, but I have brought her up like a princess. Keep my daughter happy forever.’ Sushena broke down as he said this.

  ‘She shall remain my queen till my last breath,’ Baali said softly. Tara looked at him with foggy eyes. She couldn’t believe that in her small kitchen paved with beaten cow dung, sooty and cramped, amid broken utensils, in a place so incongruous to the ecstasy she was feeling, she would be stepping into a married life she had always dreamed about. She wished her mother was alive to see her happiness. She felt sad for her father, who she would be soon leaving alone in the broken hut. She wriggled out of Baali’s hands and touched her father’s feet. Sushena lifted her up by her shoulders and kept his wrinkled palm over her forehead.

  ‘May you have a hundred sons,’ he prayed, and his cataract-thick eyes shone with unshed tears. She hugged him tight. Her father went stiff and then awkwardly hugged her back. She could feel his bare ribs and the cracked skin of his back. He would be left with her and her mother’s memories in this dilapidated hut soon. For a fleeting moment, she thought whether it was worth growing up. She sobbed on his frail shoulders. He had lost his inhibitions and now he was crying with her, patting her back and whispering that she was going to be happy in her new home. Somehow, that made her sad and happy at the same time.

  She looked at Baali, loving him from all her heart for the life he was offering and hating him for parting her from her father. She wanted her father to come to Kishkinda, a city she too played a major part in building, but she knew that her father’s place was here. He was never going to leave his poor patients. Tara promised herself that she would visit Sushena often. Baali was watching them with an enchanting smile. His eyes shone with kindness and understanding. She felt proud of him.

  Tara’s eyes met that of Sugreeva and she was startled. When had he come? When Baali had entered the hut and surprised her, she had not seen him. She had forgotten about him. Did she see envy in his eyes? He was teasing his brother, cracking jokes and talking to the curious patients who were peeping in, saying that the Vaidya’s daughter is going to be the Queen of Kishkinda. But every time Tara’s eyes met his, he looked away. There was pain of a forlorn hope in them, a slice of jealousy that he tried hard to hide with his forced merriness. She knew he loved her. She knew he could have construed her words when he left for his adventure as a hint for loving him. She regretted not having made her intentions clear. She had done it for Baali. She had never meant to manipulate him, she told herself repeatedly, but her mind was heavy with guilt.

  Tara felt pity for Sugreeva. She was horrified that somewhere deep inside her heart, she felt a strange pride that both the brothers yearned for her. She chided herself; such thoughts were evil. Sugreeva would soon be a beloved brother-in-law. Nothing more than that. Never. She didn’t want to peer into the darkness that lay coiled in the depths of her heart. She thought about Prabha and wished her dear friend was with her at this moment of happiness. If Sugreeva married Prabha, it would be perfect.

  Before she could linger more on the pleasant wish, a few women, who she barely knew, but who were now acting as if they were her bosom friends came. Teasing her, they pulled her away from her father’s embrace, and made lewd jokes. She didn’t know how the news travelled so fast. The friend she wanted most to be with her at this time was far away. How can she not attend my wedding?

  Things happened in a jiffy. Baali expressed his wish that the wedding should be held without delay and he wanted it to happen at Kishkinda, the city he was going to build. Tara suppressed a smile. Baali was yet to know what a wonderful city she had built for him. However, Sushena pleaded that the ceremony happen at his hut. If Baali wished, they could have a grander ceremony in Kishkinda. Baali agreed gracefully. Word was sent to Riksarajas and the eunuch arrived by afternoon, carrying honey and a basket full of black berries as wedding gifts. He was excited and emotional to see his adopted sons. He hugged Baali and Sugreeva and cried a lot. When he tried to talk about the great city, Tara winked at him to keep quiet. She wanted her gift to be a surprise for Baali.

  By evening, the arrangements for the ceremony were complete. People came from far and wide to see the Vaidya’s daughter getting married to Baali. Sushena had gone to the homes of the three chiefs and pleaded with them to attend the function and bless his daughter. Kesari and Jambavan arrived by late afternoon, grumpy and proud and started ordering people around. Rishabha had refused to speak to Sushena when he went to invite him and didn’t turn up for the ceremony.

  For the next four days, people came from villages Tara was unaware even existed. The path from the river to the Vaidya’s hut was decorated with tender leaves of coconut palm and marigold and jasmine garlands. A pandal was raised by volunteers in the courtyard and women created intricate designs with powdered rice and turmeric in the beaten cow dung yard. Urchins ran around, screaming and laughing, with frustrated mothers chasing them. Old men sat by the river side, in the veranda, in the backyard, reminiscing the good old times and complaining how life was changing and values eroding. Old women teased each other with the stories of their youth and wondered how young women of these days were so bold. Some mothers sighed at the memories of their lost sons who were in faraway lands, slogging as slaves in some Deva or Asura household and wished they had the money to free them.

  On the fifth day of their engagement, at dawn, a bashful Tara held the hand of Baali and went three times around the holy banyan tree as
men threw jasmine and rice at them and women ululated. Before the mud statue of Ayyan and Ammal that stood under the Banyan tree, her father clasped Baali’s and Tara’s hands together and proclaimed them as man and wife. Old women sang wedding songs as old as the hills, about Ayyan’s marriage to the daughter of the hills. They prayed to Ayyan to grant the newlyweds a son who would be as strong as Pillai, the elephant-faced son of Ammal.

  Tara didn’t know how her father arranged for the tasty, yet simple feast that followed. He might have borrowed and begged to ensure his only daughter’s marriage to the prince of Kishkinda was conducted in a grand fashion. Even as the ceremony was going on, tribes from deep inside the forest were arriving for the marriage, carrying honey or fruits as presents. A portion of the feast was kept aside for the beasts and birds of the forest to eat. Monkeys came, followed by rabbits and hares, sparrows and crows and countless birds, which had no names, followed. Meat was kept for jackals and hyenas across the river. They all were family.

  The next day of the marriage, Tara came to know that Sugreeva had left for somewhere after taking permission from his elder brother. She was relieved beyond words. Tara and Baali slept separately for seven days as per the custom. On the seventh day, they proceeded to Kishkinda. Tara was excited to show Baali the new city. She had left the city to Nala and Hanuman; the son of Kesari had volunteered to prepare for Baali’s arrival. Tara had not gone to the city for the past one month and was equally curious about what arrangements Nala and Hanuman would have made. They had sent word that a grander ceremony of marriage awaited in the city and Tara was excited at the thought of it.

  As the procession approached Kishkinda, Tara keenly observed Baali. She saw his eyes expand with surprise. Riksarajas was waiting at the newly-constructed ornamental gate to receive the bride and groom. He was wearing his best dress and had an exotic headgear. He announced pompously, ‘The chief of Kishkinda welcomes the prince and princess.’

  People laughed and Riksarajas forgot all his royal decorum. He abused everyone with colourful swearwords, leading to more laughter. Baali was amused by the new title and Tara was desperate to tell him all about it. She wished they were alone; there was so much to talk.

  ‘Welcome to Kishkinda,’ Nala swept his arm and two workers swung open the massive fort gate. The crowd gave a loud cheer. As they entered the gate, Tara watched with swelling pride at the way Baali was looking at the sprawling city.

  ‘What marvellous work you have done, Nala,’ Baali hugged the builder.

  ‘My pleasure,’ Nala said.

  ‘But how did you arrange the expenses?’ Baali wondered.

  ‘Sugreeva provided the means, the workers their effort and I gave my skills,’ Nala said, as they walked through the city streets that had beautiful fountains. Jasmine gardens lined the side streets. Granite slabs were paved on the street and there were stone pillars for keeping lamps. Baali forgot that he was a new groom. He followed Nala who was showing Baali the magnificent city of Kishkinda. Tara stood alone, trying hard to swallow the bitterness that was bobbing up her throat. She would have been happy had Nala said a word about her contribution.

  ‘Don’t worry, daughter. That is a man thing. No man is going to admit it was a woman’s will and brain that made Kishkinda,’ Riksarajas said. Tara smiled, but somewhere deep inside, it hurt. She didn’t even get a chance to show Baali what she had done.

  ‘What in the hell is that?’ Riksarajas exclaimed and Tara followed his gaze. Hanuman was coming with a few Brahmins from the river ghat. When they reached the gate, Hanuman greeted Riksarajas.

  Hanuman smiled at Tara. ‘Priests for the marriage ceremony’. Tara had no idea why they needed Deva priests for the marriage. She nodded politely, restraining Riksarajas from saying something rude. They watched Hanuman leaving with the priests towards the eternal fire.

  ‘The reforms of the Son of Kesari will ruin the Vanaras,’ Riksarajas hissed. Tara didn’t pay heed to his complaints. She desperately wanted to be with Baali, show him around the city she had built, and hated Nala for taking her place.

  Chapter 21

  The wedding ceremony at Kishkinda was fixed for the next full moon day. Sushena had come with a few close friends to attend it. They watched wide-eyed the carved walls of the colossal cave where Baali would dwell with his aides. They felt the smoothness of the silk curtains and the cushions on the seats. Brahmins chanted mantras in some unknown tongue, and a fire was lit at an altar. The old men and women who came from the forest frowned at the new fashion and customs that was gripping the city dwellers of Kishkinda. Instead of circling the banyan tree that gave life and shade, they had to circle a blazing fire under an unforgiving sun and throw assorted things into the fire to please strange gods. Hanuman was directing things, teaching new ways to Vana Naras. The feast too was different. Instead of everyone eating together, the Brahmins were fed first and then people according to their social positions. Tara felt sad that her father and his few poor friends were among the last to be fed, but they did not complain. Tara was uneasy with what was happening to her city.

  Except for a few street dogs and stray cows that fought for discarded banana leaves from the feast, no animals came near the city. Everything was new for her. She felt suffocated by the strictness of the new ways. She felt strange to be addressed as princess and flushed red every time someone double her age bowed before her. People were addressing Riksarajas as the king, despite his protests. The ceremonies and rituals dragged on for ever, sober, solemn and boring. There was no revelry. In her village, funerals were livelier than this wedding.

  By evening, her father and his friends came to bid goodbye. Tara felt a pang of guilt when one of her father’s friends, an old man who was bent double with age told her with a toothless grin how proud they felt Sushena’s daughter had become the Maharani of Kishkinda. She was touched by their concern and love. She thrust some sweets and savouries in their hands. One of the old men joked that he couldn’t even chew the savouries with his toothless gums. They wanted to bless the couple before they left but Baali was busy with the rituals. She tried to apologize for him and accepted their blessings alone, feeling guilty for it. Their wishes were heartfelt and that made it worse. Her father didn’t utter a word. She could feel his sadness in parting with her. She knew if she spoke a word to him, he would cry and embarrass himself. Tara watched them go away, a group of old men with her father amid them, reminiscing their old times and their own weddings, distributing sweets and savouries to the urchins who had patiently waited at the gates of the palace, walking back to their simple lives. She stood watching them in silence, feeling a world and a way of life slipping away from her, fighting the void that was forming in her stomach.

  Hanuman came and invited her to come near the eternal fire. Baali was waiting for her to seek the blessings of the Brahmins. She prostrated herself in front of strangers with her husband by her side. They blessed her in a language that she didn’t understand by throwing rice and flower on her head. Tara wished Baali would enquire about her father, but he didn’t say a word. When she got a chance, she told him that her father had left for the village. He nodded and turned to the next guest to enquire about his health while insisting that he should partake in the feast. She ignored the pain she felt; she had to learn to live with such small slights. Men are careless, they don’t know who they hurt, she told herself. He loves me, and I love him, that is more important than anything else, she thought as she stood close to him. As the sun set, the ceremonies concluded, and Tara sighed in relief.

  Just then, Tara heard a commotion at the gate. Hundreds of cows and buffaloes rushed through the city gate. Dust rose in puffy clouds and the air was filled with the moos of the cows and the excited screaming of people running beside them. Tara had never seen a domesticated cow. She had heard of the Asura tribe of Mahishas, who lived to the south east of Kishkinda, five hundred songs away, had thousands of cows and water buffaloes. The Deva villages in the faraway lands of North also had pastoral la
nds and cows.

  People thronged to see the cows being led into the city. At the rear end, Sugreeva rode a cart drawn by a huge bull. The coming of a cart was an event in Kishkinda. Most of the Vana Naras who had never left the Dandakaranya forest had never seen a cart. The ones who had worked as Dasas in the lands of Asuras or Devas had seen carts, and some had even cleaned them for their masters, but it was unheard of for a Vana Nara to ride one and here was a Vana Nara riding the cart like a hero returning victorious from battle. Old women lamented that the end of the world was near for only Ayyan rode a bull. Sugreeva was committing a great sin by acting like Ayyan. The wrath of Ayyan would surely fall on the Vana Naras, the old women warned. People were too excited to listen to old women’s words. Hundreds of children ran beside the cart, screaming with enthusiasm. The procession reached the centre of the street and stopped a few feet before the eternal fire where Baali and Tara were standing. The drummers who had come from the Kolli mountains danced before the cart, hitting their parai drums and swirling around in a frenzy. The crowd waved their hands and danced to the wild rhythm. The cart reached the eternal fire and Sugreeva jumped out and said, ‘My wedding present to you and your new bride, brother. Behold the great bull Dundubhi.’

  ‘Dundubhi’, the crowd whispered in awe and fear. The strength of the bull was legendary. It was the most prized possession of the Asura King of Mahisha tribe. The bards used to sing many songs about its strength and power. In the Mahisha kingdom of Mayavi, the Asura who was the owner of countless cows and buffaloes held an annual fest during the month of the crocodile, when winter gives way to summer in the forest. The holy day, when the great God of Ayyan wed the daughter of mountain, Asura men who were farmers and cowherds assembled at the banks of Kaveri to fight the bulls. It was a mating festival of Asuras, for the man who tamed the bull would be courted by many damsels. Dundhubhi was the prized bull of the Asura king, Mayavi, a distant relative and vassal of Ravana. The bards used to sing that for Mayavi, the bull was like his brother and had promised hundreds of cows and buffaloes to anyone who could tame Dundubhi.