He understood without her speaking a word. He said in a soothing voice, ‘Daughter, go home in peace. I will find a solution.’ And as an afterthought, he added, ‘Nothing will happen to Baali, but . . .’
The incomplete sentence hung like a sword in the air. She waited for him to complete it, but he had gone back to meditation. She went back with a heavier heart than she had come with. She spent a sleepless night, tossing around on her reed mat, worrying. She could hear Dundubhi’s enraged bellowing piercing the peace of the night. She cursed the beast with all her heart. She worried whether she would ever see Baali alive again. The beast had gone mad as per the servants and no one went near it to even tend it. The grass was thrown inside the stable from a hole in the roof. The servants whispered that the ropes that tied the demon bull were withering away and everyone feared it getting free. Tara hated Sugreeva for bringing Dundubhi to Kishkinda. The thought that Baali would be facing it barehanded in the arena made her sick. A horrible thought came to her mind. She wished it was Sugreeva who would be facing it instead of Baali. What if Sugreeva is gored to death? It was an unpalatable wish, but somehow, she found herself wishing it. She felt horrible for such an evil thought, yet she could not resist imagining the scene again and again in her mind.
Even before dawn, Kishkinda was brimming with people. As far as eyes could see, Vana Naras marched to their city. The word had spread far and wide that the chief of Vanara, Baali, was taking on the untamed bull Dundubhi, barehanded. The city brimmed with merchants selling wares. Dust rose into the air from the many thousands of feet treading in the area. The air was filled with cries of vendors shouting out about their wares. Nala had raised a huge flag with a totem of a monkey at the top of the hill that had Baali’s palace cave. It fluttered in the wind, beckoning all black-skinned monkeys to their first free city. Even Asuras, Devas, Kinnaras, Gandharvas, Nagas, Kimpurushas and other tribes had arrived to see the spectacle. Other tribes felt jealous as Vanaras showed them the wonders of their new city. The proud citizens of Kishkinda boasted about how the new fountains that decorated the four corners of the shining arena were named after the four oceans and Devas sniggered when they heard such boisterous claims of the slave people. Asuras compared the city with their own famed cities like Muzuris or Trikota and were forced to admit that Kishkinda was much grander than anything they had seen. That an emancipated slave, Nala, had built a city better than what a Vishwakarma of Devas or Maya of Asuras could, was unpalatable to those who had always looked at the black-skinned monkey-faced forest people as uncivilized, uncouth people, fit enough only to be slaves. They secretly wished Baali would be killed in the arena and that would put an end to the new-found arrogance of these untouchables. Some spoke about the black magic of Baali, where unknown evil forces had helped him build a city. Hadn’t the ancient scriptures spoken that the end of the world was nearing when such people rose to prominence? Some of the foreigners were spies, assessing how strong the fort was and how to destroy the city of the black people with a well-planned invasion.
Tara was seated in the front row, near the bamboo barricade. Riksarajas sat near her in a log chair made especially for him. His customary pot of toddy was kept near him. When two women came to fan them with a fan made of peacock feather, he rebuked them saying he was not the king of Devas or the emperor of Asuras. He was a monkey man and they should leave him to drink in peace. The women ran away laughing. Tara looked at the arena, a sea of black faces brimming with pride and joy. She was sweating despite the cold breeze that blew from the river. Riksarajas kept mumbling, ‘the fool, the fool Baali’ until she pleaded with him to keep quiet. The sound of Parai drums could be heard from the distance and the crowd stood up, cheering, screaming, and howling in excitement. First came the drummers, dancing with their drums, swirling round and round. Behind them came the peacock dancers with flower bows on their shoulders. They gave a vigorous performance before ‘Maharani Tara’. The crowd cheered on Tara and she squirmed in embarrassment. She was just a vaidya’s daughter, she wanted to tell them. When the crowd cheered for chief Riksarajas, he raised his toddy pot high. Someone called him eunuch maharaja from the crowd and people laughed. Riksarajas retorted he was the heckler’s father and the crowd roared with merriment. Tara sat, gripping the hand rest of her bamboo chair tight. The announcement came that Baali and his brother would be entering the arena. The Parai drums rolled in a frenzy. Horns blared in incongruous tones. Amid screams and cheers, howls and whistles, Baali bowed before the eternal fire and walked through the street. Behind him, carrying a mace on his shoulders, Sugreeva walked, waving to the crowd.
Tara’s eyes filled with tears. Baali was the epitome of manhood. He towered above everyone, with broad shoulders, chiselled muscles, rippled stomach. With skin as black as ebony, he looked as if a granite statue had come alive. Her gaze fell on Sugreeva. He was at his charming best. His smile had an impishness that could increase the heartbeat of any woman. He had grace in his every moment, as if he was performing the steps of some exotic dance. His gaze fell on Tara’s face and she quickly averted her eyes. She wished Baali would look at her. When he went past her, she screamed his name, forgetting that she was the Maharani. He saw her and smiled. Her eyes went hazy with tears. She wanted to rush to his arms and stop him. Would I ever hold him again, she wondered.
Tara saw Sugreeva coming towards her. He took his seat by her side and smiled at her. She moved away from him, shrinking herself as much as possible, thankful for the armrest that separated them.
‘I won’t devour you. Relax,’ Sugreeva said, looking straight ahead.
‘I am relaxed. My husband has gone for a walk by the river, right?’ Tara asked gritting her teeth.
‘I don’t know about your husband. My brother will beat that beast today,’ Sugreeva said. Before Tara could retort, the horn sounded, and a sudden hush fell on the crowd. Everyone was craning their necks towards the enclosure where the bull was constrained. Tara closed her eyes and prayed. She heard the creaky noise of the gates opening. For a moment, everything stood still. She opened her eyes with fear. Baali was standing at the centre of arena with his fists curled on his waist. From the other end, the gates were open, but nothing seemed to happen. Suddenly, the arena exploded with excited screams. Tara saw the enraged bull rushing at great speed towards Baali. It was as huge as a mountain but that didn’t deter its speed. The earth shook as it thundered towards Baali, who was standing in a combat position, ready to grab the sword-like horns and slam the bull on the ground.
Tara saw the mountain of flesh and horns moving towards Baali, but in a blur, it turned its course and smashed the barricade. The crowd panicked as the bull, instead of rushing towards Baali, broke free and ran up the stadium, a few feet before it would reach Tara. Everyone was scrambling up. The sound of chairs being cracked under the weight of the bull, screams and frightened cries rent the air. Before she knew what was happening, the bull had turned towards them.
‘Tara, run!’ Riksarajas cried, struggling to get up from his seat. Tara saw him trying to tackle the enraged bull. Sugreeva had caught her wrist and was tugging her away. She saw the bull fling Riksarajas like a rag. He landed among the stampeding crowd. The bull snorted and charged at Tara. She lost her balance and fell on her back. She saw the bull a few feet away as it was coming towards her, with its head tilted, its sword like horns pointing at her. In panic she tried to get up, but she was slammed down. The bull aimed its horns at her and missed. She had escaped by a whisker. She screamed and tried to move away.
‘Tara, run!’ She was disoriented as she tried to stand up. When her head stopped reeling, she saw that Sugreeva was holding on to the horns of the bull and it was trying to shake him off.
‘Run for God’s sake!’ Sugreeva screamed. She ran towards him, trying to free him of the demon bull’s horns. She caught hold of his Angavastra, but the bull charged. She lost her balance and fell. The bull rumbled past her, carrying Sugreeva on its horn. The crowd was running hither and tither
. She saw Sugreeva losing his grip and falling. The bull pierced his belly and lifted him in the air. She struggled to reach him against the panicked crowd rushing out. She saw the bull kicking him with its hoofs, slamming him down on the ground repeatedly and goring him with its horns. Then she saw Baali. She saw him catch the bull by its horn. She ran towards them.
‘Take him away,’ Baali screamed as he struggled to keep the bull away. Tara rushed to an unconscious Sugreeva. She dragged him away from the arena with great difficulty. Baali was fighting the deadly bull with all his might. With rising panic, she saw Sugreeva’s entrails out of his belly and he was wheezing. He left a trail of blood as she dragged him away. She screamed for help. Everyone was running for their life and no one bothered to stop. She tripped a young man rushing out. When he fell, she slapped him hard across his face.
‘Maharani Tara?’ The young man asked, holding his stinging cheek.
‘Help me carry him,’ Tara said. The young man helped her to drag Sugreeva to safety. ‘The chief has been flung by the bull. Get him too,’ she ordered and after a moment’s hesitation, the young man rushed in search of Riksarajas. Tara tore her dress and started cleaning Sugreeva’s wounds. He was whispering something. She ignored it and tied his wounds, but the bleeding continued. He was whispering in panic. She put her ears to his mouth.
‘Tara, I am dying. Tell me you love me, Tara. Tell me before I go. Please . . .’
She couldn’t control her tears. He had given his life to save her. Whatever may be his faults, he truly loved her, perhaps more than Baali. But she loved Baali. His shivering fingers gripped hers.
‘You won’t say it even when I’m dying. Ha, I know. It doesn’t matter. I love you as no man can ever love a woman,’ Sugreeva said and passed out. She heard a roar from behind. She turned and saw Baali was down and the beast was attacking with renewed vigour. She had forgotten about Baali, she thought with shock. She freed herself of Sugreeva’s grip. She saw Sugreeva’s mace lying on the floor. She took it and rushed to Baali. He had managed to dodge the bull’s thrust and was rolling on the floor. Dundubhi attempted to rip him apart with its horn. Sparks flew when its horns scraped the paved stones.
‘Take your mace,’ Tara cried.
Baali saw her. ‘Get away,’ he shouted as he dodged another thrust from the bull.
‘Use the mace!’ she shouted throwing the mace near Baali. It clanged on the stones and rolled. It distracted the bull and Baali was up on his feet in a flash.
‘It is not fair,’ Baali cried, ‘I can’t use a weapon against—’
‘It has gored Sugreeva. Use the mace, you fool,’ Tara cried, unable to control her frustration and anger. The bull saw her and charged towards her. She didn’t know whether it was Sugreeva’s injury or the fear that the bull would gore her that prompted Baali to fight ‘unfairly’. He grabbed the mace and jumped high in the air. As the bull charged her, Tara saw Baali’s mace break open the skull of the bull. She stood still as blood splattered over her face. The bull collapsed with a grunt, twitched for some time and then died. Baali stood panting, leaning on the mace. Tara went near him.
‘I fought unfairly. The beast won, and I lost,’ Baali mumbled. Tara shook his shoulders.
‘Your brother is dying, and your father is injured, and you are bothered about unfairness of killing an animal.’
Baali stood as if in daze, mumbling over and over, ‘I fought unfairly. I am worthless.’
Tara left him and rushed to Sugreeva. He lay consciousness. She screamed, and Baali walked towards them. He stood behind her. She heard his mace falling. Then an animal cry rose from Baali’s throat. He crumbled on his knees.
‘He is not dead, not yet,’ Tara said.
Baali crawled to Sugreeva, ‘Brother, brother, Sugreeva,’ he called, slapping Sugreeva’s face repeatedly. Sugreeva opened his eyes and saw Baali. ‘Brother. Save me, Brother.’ His voice was weak. Baali lifted his brother on his shoulders. He started walking towards the cave. Tara walked behind Baali, sobbing. A few in the crowd had seen the bull falling. They ran past Tara and Baali and started hacking the bull. Now that it was dead, they were free to show their bravery on its corpse. Tara ignored them and continued to walk.
She was a few feet behind Baali when the young man who she had sent to enquire about Riksarajas stopped her. Tara knew something was wrong from the demeanour of the young man.
‘What . . . what happened?’ she asked.
The young man didn’t lift his head to face her. He said, ‘The chief Riksarajas is dead.’
Chapter 26
By the time Sushena came, Kishkinda had gone into mourning. The death of Riksarajas had cast a spell of gloom over the Vanaras. As he was dead, no one had anything bad to say about him. His failings were glossed over or indulgently laughed over, his virtues were exaggerated and often reiterated in the conversations. People huddled in the streets and talked about the event. More and more people arrived for the funeral of the slain chief. There were more than a dozen deaths in the stampede and the kin of those who had died lamented the departure of their loved ones.
Bards had already composed songs about the fight and the bull became a demon in disguise who had come to devour Kishkinda. The two brave Vanara brothers had valiantly fought the demon and vanquished it. Sugreeva was fighting for his life and bards were eagerly waiting for his death. It would make a good story if the prince died protecting his sister-in-law. The angry mob had hacked Dundubhi into pieces and taken the carcass out in a procession. They had strewn the pieces of its flesh wherever they pleased, and rumours floated around that some of the Vanaras had thrown the pieces of carcass into the Ashram of Rishi Matanga. The rishi had always treated Vana Naras well and had never bothered with their affairs. Now his Ashram lay desecrated by a few mischievous Vana Naras.
Elders feared a war or a riot; the younger generation was ready for a riot. Mobs of youngsters roamed around the city, shouting slogans about the Vana Nara pride. A Deva traveller who had come to see the city was killed by this mob. A few Asuras were almost beaten to death and some property was destroyed just because the mob felt like it. The majestic city and the great spectacle that bull-taming gave them made the young Vana Naras vain and proud of their identity. Bards sensed the trend and started making up stories that glorified the history of the Vana Naras. Soon, fantastic stories about ancient monkey men flying in winged chariots, Vana Nara geniuses who had invented weapons that could annihilate earth, sun, moon and a few hundred stars and many such absurd things were told by clever bards. Such songs became popular and Vana Naras, who had been slaves for many generations, began thinking that they once had the greatest civilization on earth. Anyone expressing the mildest of doubt were branded as enemies. With Baali in mourning and Sugreeva fighting for his life, Kishkinda slowly descended into chaos. Bards called it development and monkey men were proud of their patriotism.
Baali never left Sugreeva’s bedside. All attempts by Tara to get him to rest turned futile. He kept repeating that it was his fault that Sugreeva got injured so gravely. ‘I am not half a man as him. He tackled the bull bare handed, like a true warrior. I fought like a coward, cheated the poor beast by using a mace.’
When Tara had heard it for the hundredth time, she exploded with fury, ‘Enough of this self-pity. You killed the beast to save me. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
‘I know. If it was not for you, I would have never used the mace. It is unfair.’
‘What is unfair?’ Tara tried to reason. ‘The bull weighed ten times your weight and it had sword-like horns. It was using what God gave it–’
‘No, Tara. It is unfair. The bull didn’t seek the fight. It wasn’t fighting for food, territory or mate. It was scared. It was doing what a bull would do. I should have fought fair and killed it with my bare hands. How will I face my people? They will think–’
‘They think you are a hero.’
‘He is the hero, Tara.’ Baali kissed Sugreeva’s forehead.
Tar
a wanted to say it was Sugreeva’s fault to bring the bull to the city. He had stolen it. She knew why Sugreeva had made Baali fight it. The fact that Sugreeva got injured didn’t change anything.
‘I always loved him, Tara. Now my love has doubled, for he saved your life,’ Baali said running his fingers through Sugreeva’s hair.
‘Your father got killed.’
‘My fault, Tara. I couldn’t save him too.’
‘The bull-taming was a bad idea . . .’
Baali nodded his head. He remained silent for a long time. The room was oppressive. This was supposed to be our bedroom, Tara thought. She had been married for more than six months and yet they had not slept together so far. Sugreeva was always between them, either physically or as a thought. Sometimes she wished he would never wake up, he would die and set her free. Yet, his words after the bull had gored him haunted her. Even when he was sure he was dying, Sugreeva was professing his love for her. He had thrown himself between her and the raging bull. Did that make him a hero as Baali claimed? Or the fact that he had planned to get Baali killed or injured made him a villain? Tara had no answer. Her father came to the room to administer medicine to Sugreeva. When he had finished his job, he asked Tara to accompany him.
Tara was surprised to see Hanuman waiting for her at the entrance of the cave. Hanuman enquired about Sugreeva’s health and Baali’s condition. Then he briefed her about the grim situation in the city. Unless something was done, the monkey army would destroy everything the Vana Naras had dreamt of. Tare had no idea what she should do.
‘Talk to the women. Call the mothers, sisters and wives of these men and address them. Make them understand that patriotism is not about hating others. They will tell their men when they are alone. It is the mob and the anonymity it provides that creates and fuels the problem. Convince the women of the futility of hatred.’
Tara nodded and Hanuman left after visiting Sugreeva and wishing him well. Tara was not very sure of the efficacy of Hanuman’s advice. She knew that women were equally or more prejudiced. But the transformation of the city scared her. The vacuum that Riksarajas left was huge. His flippancy, sarcasm and the capability to turn any serious circumstance to something funny and irrelevant had led to the camaraderie of the people. Now, everyone was serious. Baali had withdrawn to serve his brother. Unless she did something, Kishkinda would become an impossible place to live in. Tara broached the subject to Baali, but his response shocked her.
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