‘I would like to request an audience with him at the earliest.’
‘I shall convey your message, your majesty.’
I longed to meet Dashaanan privately. Since the war had started after I had told him about Sita, I had been unable to meet him. Throughout that evening, I kept sending him requests to see me and he kept denying them.
Vigorous drum beats marked the second day of war. Akampana and Mahodara, two great asura commanders, were sent to fight along with Prahasta. Nayanadini waited with us at the palace, praying for her son’s victory and safety.
The guards soon reported to us. ‘On the field today, Akampana fights a duel with Hanuman, and his army has attacked the vanara sena. Mahodara formed the vajra vyuha and attacked Sugreeva. Lankeshwar has asked Prahasta to attack from the eastern gate.’
I tried to calm Nayanadini and her daughter-in-law’s anxiety. ‘Prahasta will do well; he is a great warrior.’
‘So were the warriors who were killed yesterday . . .’ Nayanadini replied impulsively.
‘You can watch him fight from the tower, if you wish,’ I suggested.
‘No, Mandodari, I don’t want to see my son on that field. We’re terrified. I know you understand, you lost Akshayakumara, but our children are too young to fight in this deadly war.’
At that very moment, another report from the warfront reached us. Nayanadini grew more restless. ‘Prahasta has killed many important warriors of Sugreeva’s army with his unique combat skills. He was attacked by a vanara called Neel. Lakshmana is trying to move into the formation to rescue the army suffering at Prahasta’s hands.’
‘Lakshmana! He has to fight with Lakshmana now?’ Nayanadini turned towards the guard. ‘Call my son Narantaka and tell him to help his brother on the field.’
Dhanyamalini tried to placate her. ‘Gather yourself; the war field cannot be ventured into at random.’
She cried back, ‘Then why don’t you tell Lankesh to fight his own battle . . . ’
I grabbed her shoulders, ‘No one wanted the war, Nayanadini. We got dragged into it and so did Lankesh. Compose yourself for your grief will not help your son on the field.’
Like clockwork, our army retreated at sunset. The second day was over. It was reported that Akampana was killed by Hanuman and Mahodara slayed by Sugreeva. We received no news about Prahasta. Nayanadini ran outside the palace hoping to see Prahasta. A chariot brought in his body, soaked in his own blood, an arrow pierced through his throat. He had been killed by Lakshmana. His body was presented to his mother and wife.
The palace echoed with the howls of the bereaved. Nayanadini was devastated; she sat with Prahasta’s head in her lap, not ready to let his body be taken for his funeral. Meghanath came forward to take his brother’s body for the last rites; he had lost another beloved brother today. Dashaanan waited near the pyre, his eyes reflecting a deep sorrow on losing another son. Meghanath lit Prahasta’s pyre along with Narantaka and Devantaka. They pledged to avenge their brother’s death. Meghanath declared that he would finish Lakshmana off the next day.
I returned to my chambers. I had lost another son, not born of my womb but still my own. It was past midnight when a dasi knocked. ‘Your majesty, Lankeshwar would like an audience with you in his chambers.’
Dashaanan had finally sent for me. I had wanted to hold him at the funeral, share his grief, but he had not even looked at me. This time, when I entered, he did. ‘My lord, thank you for seeing me, your silence has tortured me. You distanced yourself from me at a time when we needed each other the most.’
‘I needed time to think, Mandodari. I was angry with you, very angry. I trust you more than life itself and you betrayed me. However, I have broken your trust in me more than you have. My crimes remain larger than yours.’
Dashaanan moved closer and I wept in his arms.
‘My lord, hiding it from you is my greatest regret. I should have told you at the beginning itself.’
‘Quite the contrary, Mandodari. You did the right thing by not telling me then. I would have asked you to terminate your pregnancy at once. I wouldn’t have risked a disabled heir. You did what you had to do; you fought your own battles as I did mine. It was probably destined to be this way. But one thing is for sure, you could have told me the truth earlier. Knowing it at this hour shattered me.’
‘Forgive me, my lord . . . ’
‘This is unforgivable; like a few deeds of mine you cannot forgive. Look at what we have lost. I have a daughter that I so longed for, whom I have held hostage. My own daughter curses me every day. It is her husband I am to fight. What if I had won the contest at Mithila? What if I had married my own daughter? Then I carried her here and planned to marry her if Rama didn’t come for her. What if I hadn’t given her a year?’ Dashaanan groaned, a man repenting for what he had done unknowingly.
I tried to comfort him. ‘You didn’t know, my lord. Even I came to know only after I met her. Something forbade you from marrying Sita. Don’t you think that is destiny? Some supreme power favours us and prevented it.’
‘Prevented it to what end? This day? My daughter is a prisoner in her own home. Like a nomad she wandered with her husband at his service. Is this her destiny? Was she born to suffer? If a supreme power kept me from marrying her, why did it keep my daughter from a life of happiness too?’
‘We can never know why it had to happen this way. What do we do next? Should we tell her?’
‘We can never tell her. She wouldn’t believe us if we did. What kind of father imprisons his daughter and plans to marry her? I cannot see her as my daughter even now that I know who she is. It tears me apart, the state I have put her in.’
‘We will not tell her then, but we cannot stop this war, we have to win it.’
‘If that is what it takes to make Sita stay, then we will win this war.’
‘We will build her a palace. You may declare that she is like a daughter to you; we will find her a suitable husband . . . ’
Dashaanan smiled at my plans. We shared a moment of tenderness that we could not afford otherwise. War precluded vulnerability. We had already lost another son and one more was headed to war come daylight.
On the third day of the war, Virupaksha, Makaraksha and Meghanath attacked. Dashaanan and I saw Meghanath fight. He was a dexterous warrior, quickly eliminating the army guarding Sugreeva before calling Lakshmana out to fight. The vanara army attempted formations to distract him from Lakshmana but Meghanath outsmarted them. Dashaanan explained the events to me and I prayed for Meghanath’s safety. A chariot emerged from the western flank of the vanara camp. Lakshmana was mounted on it, answering Meghanath’s call for battle. Another chariot, we speculated Rama’s, tailed his.
As soon as Meghanath saw Lakshmana’s chariot, he signaled for his men to train the weapon in Lakshmana’s direction. A warhead in it exploded into poisonous gas used to obstruct the enemy’s vision and breathing. The soldiers’ first shot coloured the air dark green. Right then Meghanath and his men shot arrows at Lakshmana’s army. Soldiers were falling everywhere, disabled by the green gas.
‘Nagapash, a weapon as poisonous as the venom of a hundred snakes,’ explained Dashaanan. Nagapash was not only a weapon, but a trap set for the enemy. It was a strategy to reach Lakshmana and Rama even as they stood guarded behind their men. The gas was so powerful that Rama and Lakshmana fell unconscious in their chariots.
Dashaanan was thrilled; he applauded his son’s intelligent strategy. He kept cheering his name from the tower even though he knew his voice would not reach Meghanath. We waited for our men to reach the spot and surround the brothers, but before they could, the vanara army formed a garuda vyuha to save Lakshmana and Rama. It looked like a huge bird from above. Chariots with orange flags, led by Hanuman, surrounded the spot and saved the brothers from getting detained.
We emerged victorious on the third day. We waited for Meghanath at court. Virupaksha and Makaraksha returned victorious too, but it was mainly because Sugreeva’s arm
y was too busy fighting off Meghanath’s attack on the western side of field. Meghanath returned with a humble smile, and Dashaanan embraced him at once. Now, we waited for further reports from the warfront soldiers to confirm whether Lakshmana and Rama would fight the next day.
Failing to get a validated report, Dashaanan prepared his next set of warriors for the fourth day. Atikaya, Trishir and Mahaparshva were asked to fight. We were told that Rama and Lakshmana had recovered from the effects of Nagapash, and had regained their stance on the field. Concerned about his brothers, Meghanath asked permission to join them but was denied in accordance with the laws of war. The frontline commanders and generals could not enter the field on the same day or at the same time. In order to function with continuity, commanders and generals were grouped as per rank and sent out on the field periodically.
Dhanyamalini waited for the day to end. Both her sons were fighting. Their wives waited at the lounge for the soldiers to report the scene. I observed the war with Dashaanan again. We waited for Atikaya and Trishir to end the day victorious. Atikaya attacked Lakshmana, Trishir went for Rama, and Mahaparshva fought with Angad. Atikaya fought heroically, his skill in archery at its best. Lakshmana fought a duel in archery with him. Dashaanan kept explaining the weapons they used. Lakshmana’s parvata baan, an arrow named after the mountains, was defused by Atikaya’s pavan baan, an arrow named after the wind. Atikaya’s naga baan, which was shaped like a serpent, was defused by Lakshmana’s crescent moon-shaped arrow.
While Atikaya and Lakshmana fought in the west, Trishir fought his battle with Rama’s army near the eastern gates. The day was about to end. Our army had fewer casualties than the vanaras. As the day was about to close, Mahaparshva retreated to the city gates without concluding his battle with Angad. Trishir drove his chariot to cover Mahaparshva while Rama chased Trishir. Hanuman’s army attacked Trishir and his unit from the other side and trapped him in between. Frustrated at not being able to defeat Atikaya, Lakshmana invoked the Brahmastra and finished the job. Dashaanan and I rushed down. Dhanyamalini, along with Bajrajala, came towards us. They did not know yet. I stopped in my tracks. She looked hopefully at Dashaanan. ‘It ended, didn’t it? The day is over . . . no major casualties I was told.’
Dashaanan could not break the news of Atikaya’s death to her. Mahaparshva entered the city, and Bajrajala lightened. Dhanyamalini’s eyes searched for her sons, ‘Where are they?’ Atikaya’s chariot was brought inside, followed by Trishir’s chariot. They stopped in front of Dashaanan. Dhanyamalini knew; she walked to the chariots and fainted at the sight of her dead sons.
Piles of bodies burnt. Hundreds of women mourned for their sons and husbands. Children wept for their fathers. We cursed the day Rama’s army had stepped on our land.
Dhanyamalini was barely conscious. I stayed indoors with her, unable to see or attend any more funerals. Atikaya’s wife, pregnant with his child, was now widowed. She stepped inside to check on her mother-in-law’s health. War had made us all suffer; the living and the unborn. The carnage I had seen spattered my dreams with blood. I could not sleep. From that day onwards, I withdrew indoors, avoiding watching the war.
Meghanath’s strategy was conveyed to me. Narantaka and Devantaka were to accompany him. My will was broken; all I wanted was for Dashaanan to return Sita to Rama and end this war. I could not bear the thought of losing more children. Meghanath visited me after midnight. He walked into my chambers, clad in armour.
‘Have some pity on your poor mother, Meghanath. Why have you come to me in armour? I don’t want to see you fighting any more; I don’t want to see any of my sons fighting any more . . . ’
‘What are you talking about, Mother?’
‘I am going to ask your father to end this war. He has to return Sita and end this ridiculous war.’
‘How can we give up now, Mother? What of the lives we have lost, our martyrs, how will we do justice to their sacrifice? This war is not about Sita any more. It is about all we have lost. They started this war with a purpose—to defeat the reign of rakshasas.’
‘I don’t understand what you are saying. You talk just like your father, Meghanath!’
He smiled and took my hands in his. ‘I seek your blessing, Matashri. I will fight Lakshmana again tomorrow.’
I kissed his forehead. ‘You have always been your father’s son. You never obey me like you do your father. Tell him there is a way to stop the war. If you tell him, he will try to stop it; he will listen to you.’
‘I cannot do that, Matashri. The only way to end this war is by winning it.’
His valour amazed me. I smiled and blessed my son. ‘Go on then, may you end this war by winning it.’
Come dawn, Meghanath entered the field again to fight Lakshmana. A protracted battle was fought between them. Narantaka and Devantaka aided him. Meghanath used all his force; he knew by now that Lakshmana was not an ordinary warrior. He perplexed him with deceptive disappearing acts, repeatedly vanishing and reappearing in front of him. Their fierce encounter lasted for two days. The sun set and rose again and they kept fighting. Neither would yield. Meghanath’s illusions finally led Lakshmana out of his defensive formation to face him alone. He employed the deadliest weapon he possessed, the Ghatini Shakti, deposing Lakshmana off his chariot. He fell unconscious, poised to die precisely before sunrise.
Meghanath returned exhausted from his two-day battle. Against all odds, Lakshmana survived. Rumours of a disloyal healer helping the vanaras spread. Dashaanan asked Meghanath to perform Nikumbhila yagna, which would enable him to ride the invincible celestial chariot he had been gifted once. Kumbakarna was summoned to fight. He feasted before the battle and met his wife and sons. Although of mammoth proportions, his military prowess had been compromised because of his boon. He, however, did not give marching into the battlefield second thoughts. Bajrajala and her sons were prepared to not meet him alive again. Meghanath started his yagna to please Goddess Prathyangira. He sat inside the temple cave to attain siddhi over the celestial chariot and weaponry. On the field, Kumbakarna kept the vanara army occupied for two days with the havoc he wreaked. The commanders of the vanara army tried to contain him, but they were all defeated one by one. As a last resort, Rama took to battle on the second day. He wounded Kumbakarna with numerous shafts; disabled his arms with shots and crushed him with the Indrastra. Kumbakarna fell like a great hill into the sea. Death was inevitable in war, as was deceit. While Meghanath meditated, vanaras attempted to distract him from his yagna. Only Vibhishana knew the purpose of this yagna and he had undoubtedly cued the vanaras about it. Lakshmana went to the extent of attacking Meghanath while he was unarmed inside the cave, injuring him. They succeeded as Meghanath had to abandon his quest.
Some nights, monkeys would loot our temples and granaries. Their supposed morality had been reduced to farce. They assaulted our women, beating them, tearing their clothes, sometimes even dragging them out of their chambers. A wounded Meghanath entered the field with his brothers. Narantaka took a javelin and killed several vanara men. He fought a duel with Angad, while Devantaka fought Hanuman. Both parties sustained grave injuries. Meghanath continued his battle with Lakshmana. They fought with various weapons trying to knock each other down. I barely understood the effect of the weapons they used; unwilling to see the war unfold, I waited for explanations.
‘Meghanath fired a Yamastra, a weapon named after Yama, the god of death, that Lakshmana destroyed with Kuberastra. Lakshmana launched a Varunastra, but Meghanath destroyed it with Raudrastra, the weapon of Shiva,’ reported our guards.
The battle continued, culminating in news that sent tremors across our city. ‘Narantaka has been defeated by Angad. He has been brought to the city but he suffers deadly injuries. Lakshmana fired an Indrastra at Meghanath, destroying his chariot and . . . ’ one of the guards trailed off. I needed to hear no more.
Three more sons taken by the enemy. Dashaanan lit their pyres. Nayanadini, Dhanyamalini and I sat frozen. Their wives wept
with grief, cursing their killers and Sita. Sarama bore the brunt of many taunts because of Vibhishana’s disloyalty. The sky thundered at Meghanath’s death as it had upon his birth. Sulochana, his beloved wife, handed her four-year-old son to me and became sati on her husband’s pyre.
TWENTY-ONE
A day after mourning, a broken-hearted father and a shaken king prepared to fight. Nanashri, Dhanyamalini, Nayanadini and I talked to him through the night. We said everything but what was on our minds. We wanted him to come back alive. We wanted him to come back to us.
Sister Meenakshi’s arrival was announced. It was for her that Dashaanan was fighting this war, but except for attending funerals, she had severed her connection with us.
We thought we would express our resentment but Dashaanan welcomed her warmly. ‘Bhrata Dashaanan, I have come to wish you luck.’
‘My sister . . . I will fight for your honour. I may not have been the best brother but I tried making it up to you. I will deliver Lakshmana’s head to you by dusk. But in case I fail to do so, I hope you will not hold it against me.’
Meenakshi fell on his feet with regret. ‘Bhrata Dashaanan, I am sorry for being so cruel to you. Long before asking for revenge against Lakshmana, I wanted revenge from you. I held you responsible for my agony; you killed my husband and I blamed you for my misery. After Khara and Dushana’s death, I came to you for justice and vengeance because I wanted you to fight for me, but more than that I wanted you to repent for my despair. I don’t know why, but I wanted to see you fail somewhere. In order to prove yourself, you started a conflict by abducting Sita. When my son was sent to me dead, I thought my only family here was Vibhishana and Kumbakarna. I was still angry with you. Vibhishana disgraced us by joining our enemy. He took refuge under the same rival who had assaulted his own sister. But you kept your word and gave everything to this war, even your children!’
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