‘My lord Lankesh, your resolution to abduct Rama’s wife has astonished me. As far as I remember, we never discussed that we would take Sita hostage!’
‘I have thought it through. We avenge ourselves through Sita’s abduction. If Rama and Lakshmana somehow find her, which I believe they will, we will finish them. They dishonoured my sister, and I separated Sita from them. Hence, we are even now.’
‘Lankesh, what happened to Marichan? Why hasn’t he come back with you?’ asked Nanashri in a whispering tone.
‘Mama Marichan will not be able to make it back. It grieves me to inform you all that he was chased by Rama and could not escape him. He was later killed by him,’ announced Dashaanan.
‘Indeed, terrible news! How did it happen? And how did you capture Sita when they were on guard?’ asked Nanashri.
‘They were not on guard when I captured her,’ he explained. ‘When we reached Dandaka, it took us one day to locate them. We disguised ourselves as commoners to observe them before we acted. I hid my vimana far from their location so they wouldn’t discover it. We took cover close to their quarters; they had constructed a huge hut, which was defended by a boundary around it. It was Lakshmana who guarded the boundary most of the time. I wanted to finish him off right away. But then I saw Rama, the vigilante who killed most of our people, switch duty with him. The next morning, just after dawn, I saw Sita working around the hut. She lit a fire, watered the ground and then finally walked out with a vessel in her hand. Lakshmana guarded her along the way. It became clear that Lakshmana guarded them all the time, especially Sita. She wasn’t left alone even for a minute. Then we saw Rama inside the hut, he was shaping his arrows. Sita returned soon and Lakshmana went to guard the fence again. We observed them for three days. Each day, they followed the same schedule.’
‘But why Sita? Why didn’t you abduct Rama or Lakshmana instead?’ interrupted Vibhishana.
‘Try and understand, Vibhishana. I want Meenakshi to give their punishment when I get them here. They were always alert, and also merely finishing them off with an attack would not have met the demands of justice. Hence, I decided to get Sita. Rama will do everything possible to find her; Lakshmana will do everything his elder brother wishes. And if they happen to find her here, I will bring them to their knees in front of my sister.’
‘She is my sister too. I am as concerned about her as you,’ said Vibhishana.
‘Then you better trust me,’ replied Dashaanan.
‘My lord, your decision to take Sita hostage has already claimed a life! How else would you explain Mama Marichan’s demise?’ I added.
‘That was his destiny. I did not plan for all this.’ He narrated further. ‘I wanted to distract Lakshmana and Rama, to see if I could get an opportunity to get inside the boundary. Hence, I asked Mama Marichan to disguise himself as an animal rustling in the bushes and draw attention to himself so I may slip inside unnoticed. As expected, Lakshmana sensed an intrusion and searched the forest. But Rama stayed with his wife, foiling our attempt that day. Mama Marichan returned the next morning; Lakshmana was unable to get hold of him.
We tried again the next day, and this time Rama left for the search. I was looking for a chance, but Lakshmana would not leave Sita alone. Mama Marichan kept Rama engaged till evening and just then I saw Sita and Lakshmana arguing. She walked to and fro within the compound in front of the fence. She was clearly concerned for her husband, who hadn’t returned from the search. Finally, right before sunset, I saw their dispute come to an end with Lakshmana leaving to look for Rama. Sensing the opportunity, I reached out to Sita.
I disguised myself as a Brahmin, asking for alms and cajoled her to step outside the fence. She hesitated to come outside the fence at first. I told her I would curse her for being insensitive towards a hungry Brahmin. In fear, she agreed and stepped out. That is when I grabbed her hand and hurried towards the vimana. On my way, I heard a man cry out from the same direction where Mama Marichan had gone running. I knew it was his voice. Sadly, it was his last.’
Everyone stood silent; Mama Marichan’s death was unexpected.’
‘That is not fair to him, my lord. He died like a prey, chased by our enemy,’ I said.
‘I did not expect him to die that way either, but we cannot ask destiny any questions,’ Dashaanan replied.
‘Bhrata Dashaanan, what will you do next? Sita is king Janaka’s daughter. What if he declares war against us?’ asked Vibhishana.
‘What is there to fear, Vibhishana? A kingdom as small as Mithila doesn’t stand a chance against us. Also, Sita belongs to Rama now. Janaka will not interfere directly. Accommodate her in the antapura. Also, inform Meenakshi about everything,’ Dashaanan said and left.
Sita was like a bird trapped inside a cage. I was sympathetic to her plight; a woman abducted for no fault of her own, miles away from home. Meenakshi was not convinced with Dashaanan’s scheme of justice. She had wanted him to confront and defeat the brothers directly. Mata Kaikesi forbade Meenakshi’s disapproval to be conveyed to Dashaanan lest he take drastic measures and put himself in danger.
The next day, I sent my dasi with fresh robes and clothes for Sita. In order to avoid any gossip or rumour, I refrained from putting Sita up in the antapura.
My dasi soon returned with the clothes that I had sent. ‘Your majesty, I’m afraid she refused to take them. She might be our prisoner, but she is still in exile, she says. She claims her clothes are made of some divine fabric that doesn’t wear out or get spoilt easily.’
‘Hmm . . . how is she conducting herself otherwise?’ I asked her.
‘Your majesty, her eyes are swollen from crying. She has refused the food given to her and now the clothes that you had sent. When I told her that the clothes were sent by you, she told me that she was obliged but it was against the customs of exile to accept them.’
‘Do you think I should meet her myself? I plan to accommodate her elsewhere soon; she cannot live in a room surrounded by men. It’s not safe.’
‘I agree with you, your majesty. The guards, or for that matter anyone, should not treat her like a prisoner of war. She is a hostage, not a reward.’
My dasi’s statement made me desperate to shift Sita to a better place. I went to meet her.
She was sitting curled up in a corner, her head between her knees. She turned towards me, dabbing her face with her sari as I walked in.
‘It may seem awkward for us to talk. My gestures may not ease your pain but I am sorry for what you have to go through. You are suffering without any fault of your own. Hence, I apologize for my husband’s actions.’
She stood close to me. It was the first time that I saw her closely. Her long black hair was half braided and open below the neck—it covered her waist completely. She had vermilion, which is the symbol of a married woman, in the parting of her hair, soft skin, big, expressive eyes accentuated by the perfect arch of her eyebrows, nose like a princess, and lips like a bow. Her face was pale, though, because of the turmoil she was going through. She must have been the same age as Meghanath. She wore no ornaments, just a rosary around her neck and wrist. The fabric of her rough sari rubbed against her slender waists. She tried to hide her beauty in those rags. Young, glowing and calm, she was truly a princess.
She folded her hands and bowed, ‘His deeds cannot be forgiven, but it is not your fault either. Hence, I am obliged to you for your kind gesture.’
I smiled at her intelligent humility. ‘I hear you have refused to eat or accept clothing. I will make arrangements for a better place for you to stay . . .’
‘I don’t want to stay here! Or live for that matter. I wanted to die the very moment your husband touched me. I wanted to jump out of that vimana . . . but I cannot even end this life—it belongs to my husband. So I have to live, each excruciating moment, each day, waiting for him to rescue me.’
I pitied her. The daughter of a king, brought up in luxury, married early and sent into exile right after. Thirteen years of exile w
ith only her husband and brother-in-law. Now to be separated from the only family she had. Not only turmoil, she must be going through a crisis.
‘It is not going to be easy for you. Yet, I will try and do my best to help you,’ I assured her.
‘Why? You are his wife, why would you help me?’
‘Because somewhere deep inside, I agree that my husband shouldn’t have brought you here. You are not the one from whom we seek revenge.’
‘Seek revenge? Whom do you seek revenge from?’
‘Your husband Rama and his younger brother Lakshmana. Rama has murdered our people and Lakshmana accompanied him. Also, Lankapati Ravana’s sister Meenakshi was humiliated by them. She was brutally ill-treated by Lakshmana.’
She tried to convince me, ‘My husband is not a murderer and I regret what happened with Lankapati Ravana’s sister! But why did Ravana choose to abduct me?’
‘I don’t have answers to all your questions at this time. And I don’t wish to get into any dispute with you. Our husbands might be enemies now, but we are not. I don’t intend to make this more miserable for you.’
‘I am sorry for Lakshmana’s actions too. I wish I could go back in time to stop him from doing anything like that to a woman. He loses his temper easily . . . ’
‘Well, he has that in common with Lankapati Ravana . . . ’
She took a moment to think. ‘I agree with what you said . . . we are still not enemies. Again, I am obliged to meet you. You are kind to offer help to me.’
‘Is there anything I can help you with right now?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, I am still in exile and as per the customs, I eat just two meals a day. I respect the food sent to me, but I don’t eat anything taamsik—spicy or non-vegetarian food. I prefer very light meals, rice or may be just fruits.’
I felt sad for her poor appetite and customary sacrifice.’ ‘Certainly, I will arrange the food as per your preference.’
‘Thank you! I am grateful to you. What should I call you?’
It struck me that she wasn’t a commoner; she was royalty too. ‘Mandodari, my name is Mandodari.’
There were rumours that Dashaanan would kill Rama and marry his wife. I was worried about the gossip. We had no news from Bharatvarsh about Rama’s whereabouts. We knew he was powerful but he had no resources to mount an attack on Lanka. Also, we weren’t certain if he was aware that Sita had been abducted by Dashaanan. Like me, Dhanyamalini and Nayanadini were concerned about Sita. We discussed safer housing for her while she was in Lanka.
‘How can you even think about keeping her at the antapura with the king’s concubines? That will only fuel the rumours,’ argued Nayanadini and I agreed with her.
Dhanyamalini asked, ‘Then where do we keep her? She is not a prisoner. She cannot stay in the queen’s palace with us. Should we let her stay where she is?’
‘I am not sure either. Personally, I am not fond of the idea of putting her up in shanti bhavan after what happened to Rishi Gritsamada but there seems to be no other place we can house her.’
‘I think we should convert that place into her chambers temporarily. She is waiting for her husband, Dashaanan is waiting for his enemy . . . we don’t have a waiting room in Lanka,’ Dhanyamalini joked.
‘Keep her in the antapura, Mandodari,’ said Dashaanan who had just entered the lounge and overheard our discussion. ‘Like I told you earlier, keep her in the antapura, shanti bhavan is to be used for various other purposes.’
‘But, my lord, it is not appropriate for her to stay there. She is a married woman . . . ’
‘You want to marry her, don’t you?’ Nayanadini interrupted. She looked angrily at Dashaanan.
‘I haven’t thought about it yet,’ said Dashaanan, looking at all three of us.
‘My lord, don’t let the rumours influence your mind like that!’ said Dhanyamalini.
‘You said you never wanted to marry Sita!’ I added.
‘I said that thirteen years ago, Mandodari. However, I haven’t thought about my marriage yet. I am more concerned about her husband. And if it is destined for me to marry Sita—which I feel fate had proposed years earlier—then this time I will marry her after I kill her husband,’ claimed Dashaanan and walked out, leaving us shocked with his sudden decision.
We looked at each other vulnerably, all three wives against our husband’s decision to marry a fourth time. Dhanyamalini was right; the rumours had influenced Dashaanan’s thinking about Sita. I went to meet Sita again.
‘This bhavan seems to be the only option for your accommodation right now. If you wish, I can get this place renovated as a temporary chamber for you,’ I suggested.
She smiled. ‘You are too kind. But I remind you, I am still in exile just like my husband. I cannot stay here or in any other luxurious chamber. I have been living in forests for the last thirteen years. If it is not too much to ask, I wish to live in a surrounding that looks like a forest. I want to see the woods, the skies, the birds flying freely in the air. I don’t want to stay under a roof.’
‘But how will you live in a place like that?’
‘Don’t worry; I will not be living here forever. My husband will soon find me and rescue me,’ she said confidently. Her belief took me by surprise.
‘How are you so sure that he will find you here? He doesn’t know you are in Lanka,’ I tried testing her.
‘He will, I am sure. He will find me towards the south. I left a trail for him; when I was taken in that vimana, I dropped my ornaments on the land below to show him a path.’
Her innocent and childlike efforts to get back to her husband concerned me. She was so hopeful to get back to him that she was thinking impractically.
I could add no more to her troubles, ‘I too hope that he finds you soon.’
‘You remind me of my mother, Rani Mandodari. She is as caring as you. I haven’t met her for thirteen years due to the exile, but today I feel close to her.’
Her warmth tugged at my heartstrings. I was besieged with her warmth. ‘Your mother . . . and your father . . . I heard he loved you the most.’
‘Yes, he did. I was adopted by him, you know. I am so blessed that he found me. He once told me the story of how he found me during a yagna; he said he borrowed me from Bhoomi Mata.’ She smiled remembering something, ‘I later understood what he actually meant by the story. When he said he borrowed me, he meant I was buried in a pot, covered with soil by someone who didn’t want me. But I believe I was destined to live, destined to meet my husband.’
Her story knocked the wind out of me. I thought back to the birth of my daughter twenty-six years ago—my child who had not lived. I was shocked at the similarities between how she was found and how Mai had buried my daughter.
The blood drained from my face; I asked her again, ‘How did you say your father found you?’
‘My adoptive parents, king Janaka and Mata Sunaina, had no children before me. Our kingdom was on the verge of a famine. The rains had abandoned the region for three consecutive years. My father performed a yagna, believing that it would bestow nature’s blessings on the region. As part of that yagna, the king was required to plough the field. While doing so, the furrow was trapped against a rock. Still trying to push the plough, my father heard a child cry. He exhumed the soil near the furrow and found me. He asked everyone around if they knew me or my parents. He enquired for days but no one came forward to claim me as their own. And then they knew that I was probably abandoned by my parents. My father proudly said that he furrowed me from the barren land, and hence named me Sita.’
It was right in front of my eyes.
There I stood facing her, uncomfortably thinking about my past. A reality I had kept buried for twenty-six years of my life, thinking that it was over. My only daughter, whom I had considered dead right after her birth, was standing alive today with me. And why, I hadn’t noticed it earlier, she resembled someone I had seen before . . . she resembled me!
I wanted to rush back to my chambers to
think over everything once again and take it all at my own pace. She was waiting for me to respond, but I just stood there like a stone in front of my own daughter—I was responsible for where she was today. I took a few steps towards her. I was convinced it were true, but I wanted to be absolutely certain. I reached out to touch her right hand in what looked like a gesture to comfort her. Slowly, I touched her elbow, moved the cloth that covered her arm with my fingers and looked at her skin. There it was, the black birthmark, just like I had seen it years ago.
EIGHTEEN
Memories rushed back. The young girl was playing in a field, smiling at me. Now I knew who she was and why I saw her in my dreams. She wanted me to know that she had lived. She had taken me back to the day she was born—the day I had touched her skin, held her in my arms. I wanted to tell her I didn’t abandon her, that I had wanted her enough to travel miles to give birth to her. I should have listened to my heart when it had insisted that she was destined to live.
I woke up abruptly, realizing I had slept past sunrise. Sita occupied my thoughts. The fact of her life overshadowed its consequences. I was plagued by questions—how would I tell Dashaanan? Whom do I tell first, if at all? I was a mother meeting her daughter for the first time in twenty-six years, and hoping for her to make it back safely to her husband. I had to protect her till Rama arrived.
Before I could try and convince Dashaanan to free her, I heard Sita had been moved to Ashokavanam on his orders. She was now watched over by female guards. Dashaanan had given Rama a year to find her before he would marry Sita himself. I was afraid Dashaanan’s need to possess Sita would deprave him. I prayed for Rama to find her before revenge knew no reason for my husband.
An ashoka tree stood at the centre of Ashokavanam. A verandah formed its circumference, where small gatherings were held. Adjacent to it was a private garden accessible only to Dashaanan. A waterfall that merged into a stream marked its end. Dashaanan had wanted to make Ashokavanam a botanical garden for the recuperation of those who visited it.
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