Dashaanan stood still. He looked at our enraged faces. Dhanyamalini and I were irritated with the futility of what she was saying. Nanashri was eager to condemn her selfishness.
‘So, today you admit to your real intention of provoking your brother to war!’ Nayanadini yelled at her.
Dashaanan gestured for her to stop. He held Meenakshi’s shoulders and raised her up and accepted her confession.
‘I knew you wanted more than just revenge. You wanted me to repent and compensate for your misery, and I hope you are satisfied now. In order to fulfil your thirst for vengeance, our kingdom had to bear the brunt of this war. I hope you realize what is at stake, dear sister. When the widows of Lanka were cursing Sita for all the fatalities, they forgot to mention you,’ said Dashaanan.
‘Please don’t say that. I never thought it would start a war . . . I never thought it could take so many lives!’
‘Then how did you think a war is fought? A war costs lives; it claims the throne, causes destruction and leaves a kingdom deprived of food, wealth and sometimes even the right ruler.’
‘So I request you, brother, please don’t fight. Don’t go. Give them Sita and put an end to it.
Nanashri interrupted, ‘You think it is that easy to stop the war? You really think they are here only for Sita? They want to conquer this kingdom, Meenakshi. Our community, our people and our land is at stake. Rama and Lakshmana are on a mission and they want to conquer Ravana’s Lanka. While they were slaughtering rakshasas and asuras in Bharatvarsh, thereby deteriorating our strength, they were always backed by the devas. They may not directly involve themselves in this war, but they extend their support to Rama and his army.’
‘So in between their mission, I just happened to encounter them . . . ’
‘Yes, but your desire for revenge provoked your brother to abduct Sita, and Rama’s mission got a new dimension wherein he had reason to attack one of the greatest rakshasa kingdoms. It was for you that Dashaanan took Sita captive and lured her husband out to war, thereby marking Lanka as a possible target,’ answered Nanashri.
‘The only regret I have, dear sister, is that although we fought for your honour, you considered me your adversary. While we were fighting the war for you and also for my people, I had my own brother Vibhishana and you wanting to see me fail. Now you can leave, at ease after your confession, yet I have to fight this war today for my people and my kingdom,’ said Dashaanan. Meenakshi bowed deferentially and exited.
Dashaanan bowed before Nanashri. ‘I have so much to say, Lankesh,’ Nanashri said, blinking back tears. ‘I am grateful to have served you. No matter what happens today, you will be a hero and the golden era of your reign will have a place in Lanka’s history.’
‘Nanashri, you have been the keeper of the throne from the time my grandfather Sumali sought to win Lanka. I have relied upon you for guidance throughout.’ His voice cracked. ‘In case I don’t return, promise me you will mentor my heir, and along with Mandodari, let him claim his rightful position.’ He walked towards the corridor. He wanted to see Sita before he fought, in case it was the last time he saw his daughter. Hesitantly, I asked, ‘Should we tell her before you go?’
‘We can never tell her. I could not bear pity for me in her eyes. Let her hate me for what I have put her through, but not as her father. Right now, it feels like the last time I will see her.’
‘You are not being yourself, my lord. You are Ravana, a mighty emperor, a formidable conqueror . . . ’
Dashaanan took my hands in his. ‘I am nothing today, Mandodari. I have nothing. I have lost my sons, my family and my compatriots. I have watched them die, set fire to their pyres. Tell me what remains now.’
I was struggling to give him hope so he would live, for his sake as much as mine. ‘My lord, you cannot lose this war, you are invincible!’
Dashaanan shook his head. ‘I was arrogant, Mandodari. I thought I was invincible. I asked to be indestructible by all beings except vanaras and manavas. Never could I imagine them attacking my kingdom. I face Rama as a mortal man. Today, I am not invincible.’
My heart sank. I did not want to believe what Dashaanan had somehow made his peace with. He would return safely. He would rule and I would sit beside him like the old days. Mahantakumar had seen it happen. Dashaanan would triumph and Lanka would thrive again. ‘You will come back to us. This is where all your life’s work has led you to. Deliver us, my lord.’ I was crying as I reassured him. It was meant more for me, I realized.
Dashaanan looked at me earnestly and cupped my face. ‘You are a queen, Mandodari. This kingdom is as much yours as mine. If I am gone, you have to lead our people.’ He kissed me gently. ‘You are the same as you were when I first saw you.’ He held me close. ‘It’s time. Give me my Chandrahas and bring me my bow. I will fight them with the might of Bhairava. Wish me luck.’
Nanashri and Mahaparshva watched the battle from the tower. We waited inside on tenterhooks. I prayed to Shiva to favour his parambhakt.
A narrator visited me thrice during the day to narrate events that took place on field.
Mounted high on his parasol, Lankeshwar Ravana entered the battlefield with his mystic missiles. Rama and Lakshmana attacked Ravana together. A tumultuous battle broke out between the two entities. The ground was covered with the black flags of Lanka; Kumbh and Nikumbh had destroyed most of the vanara army with their power. Rama repeatedly charged at Ravana different astras, thereby injuring his sky-borne ambari war elephant and bringing him down on a chariot. Both Rama and Ravana made full use of their knowledge of warfare. Rama charged deadly weapons at Ravana—Varuna astra, Surya astra, Trimurti astra, Bhumi astra, Garuda astra, Deva astra, Sudharshan astra, and many more. But the lord of Lanka defused all of Rama’s attempts with his miraculous retaliation.
The first day of the battle between Ravana and Rama came to an end at sunset. After an arduous battle, Ravana proposed to Rama to dismiss his falling army for the day and gather his dead from the field. Thousands of vanaras were dead that day. It was too much killing for one single day. Hence, it was decided to continue the battle next day. Soldiers of both sides returned to their camps. Ravana too returned to his camp, which was set up outside the gates of his city. A young and impressive warrior like Rama couldn’t have imagined the incomparable prowess of an aged king like Ravana, until he experienced his sagacious and strident aggress on his own. That day they had fought like they would bring the sky down to earth, inflicting severe injuries on one another, brutally killing soldiers of each other’s army.
The next day too there was a similar sight on the field. Ravana was unstoppable. The warrior princes from Ayodhya set a different strategy today. They made a crescent moon formation to separate Ravana’s army. Sugreeva led his army behind Kumbh towards the western gate and Hanuman challenged Nikumbh on the eastern side of the gate. Thus, the unbeatable duo was separated from each other. Ravana saw his army drifting in opposite directions and knew it was a trap. He doubled his force and went straight for Rama and Lakshmana, without letting anything distract him. What looked like a crescent moon formation was soon eclipsed by Ravana’s wrath. Seeing their emperor Ravana fight with such valour and ability—nothing of the courage and strength of a Veerbhadra or Bhairava from Shiva—the rakshasa soldiers cheered in high spirits. The fierce battle did not conclude that day, it continued throughout the night till dawn.
Tired and separated from the rest of the army, Kumbh decided to fight a single combat with Sugreeva. He stepped down from his chariot, an iron club in his hand and charged towards Sugreeva. But his blows did not impact the vanara who was an expert in martial combat himself. One after the other, Sugreeva lifted his fists to strike a blow and shattered the armour worn by Kumbh. The strong rays at sunrise hit Kumbh’s weary eyes, blood oozed from his body and he fell on the ground, thus defeated by Sugreeva.
Seeing his brother fall in another part of the battlefield, a distressed Nikumbh hurried towards him. But the powerful and swift Hanuman wa
s behind him—he pounded his mace on Nikumbh’s shoulder and Nikumbh fell from his chariot. An angry Nikumbh leapt towards his enemy, roaring horribly in irritation, but Hanuman landed another blow with his mace and tore off Nikumbh’s head at once.
While his brother’s sons were being mercilessly slaughtered on the same field, Ravana fought an exceedingly terrific round of archery with Rama and Lakshmana. He kept the brothers engaged in responding to his splendid compilation of celestial weaponry. He bombarded them with the Shakti astra, Shiva astra, Kali astra, Yaksha astra, Parvata astra and Maya astra. By afternoon, due to the non-stop pace of the battle since the past two days, Rama and Lakshmana were exhausted. Ravana’s charioteer too was tired. Lakshmana started to succumb to the pain of his wounds; his injury was not completed healed. Hence, this time Rama proposed to discontinue the battle. He raised a flag to propose a halt and call it a day. Ravana looked at the state of his charioteer, now failing to cope with his pace, and signaled him to lower the flag on his chariot, accepting the proposal. Hence, they mutually agreed to continue the next day.
It was the fourth day of Rama and Ravana’s battle, and the thirteenth day of the war. Rama and Lakshmana were now concerned about their multiple failed attempts to beat Ravana. On this day they had a familiar face among them; standing with his newly formed alliance was Lanka’s enemy, Vibhishana. He had joined Rama on the field to guide him. As if his betrayal of his own land wasn’t enough, he stood beside our enemy, without any guilt or regret, to defeat his own brother.
Seeing his deceitful brother come out of hiding, Ravana’s eyes must have turned red with anger because the first arrow he pulled on his bowstring was the deadly Mangal astra. Rama defused it with a Yama astra, which not only destroyed the approaching Mangal astra but also injured the person firing it. Although Ravana was injured—he fell inside his chariot from impact—he stood up momentarily to fight Rama again.
I was walking across the courtyard. An ominous disquiet had settled in the pit of my stomach. My dasis were trying to ease me but I was disconsolate. Dashaanan had been fighting for four days now. I awaited his return. Nanashri came looking for me. ‘I am afraid it is not good news; Dashaanan has been gravely injured.’
I stumbled and Dhanyamalini and Nayanadini rushed to sustain me. Disoriented, I asked him, ‘I was told he was still fighting?’
Nanashri looked at the reporter with him and nodded. He began, ‘Your majesty, after the Yama astra failed to do what it was meant to, Rama and Lakshmana consulted Vibhishana. Vibhishana gestured towards his lower abdomen and pointed at Lankeshwar. Wasting no time, Lakshmana handed his brother the Brahmastra, a weapon that makes the earth quiver. Rama immediately pulled it on his bow and pierced Lankeshwar’s naval with it.’
The shadow of Dashaanan’s past fell over the courtyard, stifling every sound till it was completely still. Years ago, Dashaanan had created amrita. It had been administered intravenously, via an incision behind his naval. The antioxidants accelerated his cell growth, allowing his body to heal rapidly. Vibhishana had known this and chosen the right moment to use the knowledge against Ravana.
‘How is he now?’ I asked breathlessly.
‘We are not sure. Rama sent a messenger to inform us. Dashaanan was knocked off his chariot,’ replied Nanashri.
‘I want to see him right now!’
Nanashri tried to convince me otherwise but I paid him no heed. ‘My husband has been wounded, this kingdom has almost collapsed. How do you expect me to sit here and wait?’
‘Rani Mandodari, it could be a trap to get to you. Let’s bring Dashaanan inside our compound.’
I was already running towards the field. Guards clambered behind me as I ran through the gates into the heart of the battlefield. It was a sea of bodies. They lay in pools of blood, viscera scattered everywhere. Dashaanan’s chariot gleamed in the sun. Beside it, he was sprawled on the grass. I prayed to find him alive. If he were to die today, I’d die tomorrow.
‘What brings you here, Mandodari?’ My knees buckled with relief at Dashaanan’s bemused remark. I laughed. Tending to him, I asked, ‘How did this happen?’
‘It was bound to happen. I braced myself for it. I put up a good fight, though, didn’t I?’
I smiled. ‘We’ll take you inside now and you can make a full recovery.’
‘It is of no use. The nectar has been ruptured. My body will slowly decay. I lived this long only to see you one last time.’
‘I will die with you.’
‘Don’t you even think about it. You are Lanka’s queen; it needs you. Promise me you will do whatever it takes . . . ’
I held him and wept. ‘Don’t cry like I have failed you, I die written in history.’
He took his last breath. His eyes closed. I held Dashaanan’s body for a long time. The sun blazed and extinguished into night. Eventually, Nanashri tapped my shoulder. ‘It’s time to go inside.’
While I cried and moaned over my husband’s dead body, other women were howling in grief too—Dhanyamalini, Nayanadini and a number of concubines from the antapura. Some of them, who had never crossed my path, screeched and yelled on losing the man we shared. Beside Dashaanan’s chariot, Angad, Hanuman and Sugreeva stood with Rama and Lakshmana.
‘Devi, your husband was a great king and warrior. Accept our condolences.’
‘You must be Rama,’ I said.
‘I am.’ He gestured to the man beside him, ‘This is my brother Lakshmana. We have learnt a lot from your husband during this battle. We pay our respects to him.’
Lakshmana added, ‘We would not have harmed him had it not been righteous.’
‘And you decide what is righteous and what is not,’ I snarled.
‘Devi, it is time to give Ravana his last rites. Take him inside,’ said Rama, avoiding any further conflict.
We rode inside in chariots. Everybody gathered around Dashaanan, chanting his name. I looked around, dazed. Lanka was lamenting the king who had given his life for this kingdom. We had fallen apart. The vanara leaders followed us, Vibhishana on board their chariot.
Aghast they should desecrate Dashaanan’s last rites, I took Nanashri aside. ‘Why are they here?’
‘This kingdom is now theirs.’
His reluctance to continue made my blood run cold. Finally he said, ‘These are the norms of war. The defeating army gains right over the defeated kingdom. Lanka is at their mercy now.’
I had been so preoccupied with the events of the war that I had disregarded the consequences of losing it. We had no warriors left to challenge the vanara army and reclaim our kingdom. It was only the women who had lived. Rama and Lakshmana, after all the blood they had shed, stood amidst us, indomitable.
Kings and leaders of neighbouring regions poured in to pay their respects to Dashaanan. His other lands had now fallen into Rama and Lakshmana’s command. The funeral was arranged for the next day. Lanka’s streets spilled over with ministers and dignitaries who grieved for Dashaanan. Songs of his valour reverberated across the city. The reign of rakshasas was over—the golden era of Ravana’s empire dimmed into the twilight of history. While I prepared for my husband’s funeral, Vibhishana invited Rama and Lakshmana to live in our guest mansions. Vibhishana’s return had plunged him into lower depths than his departure. He had no place in the very land he had betrayed.
Dashaanan’s body was placed on the pyre. I relived the first time our eyes had met. My father’s introduction had muffled, the courtroom ceased to matter—it had been only Dashaanan’s gaze holding mine. This is where I loved him now, in memory. Nanashri climbed the pyre to light it. Vibhishana stood with him. ‘What is he doing up there?’ I protested. ‘He has no right to touch him!’
Bajrajala, Meenakshi and my mother looked pointedly towards Rama. I continued, ‘Who is he to direct my husband’s funeral? We stayed silent when they entered our city, but no more. They have no business here and neither does Vibhishana. That traitor!’
The council stepped forward and stood beside
me. People joined in, taking a stance of defiance. Rama gauged the shaky ground he was treading on. He walked up to me, cloyingly humble. ‘Devi Mandodari, we are not in a state of war any more. A blood relative is required to give burial rites to the deceased. Vibhishana has the right to do so. He belongs to this kingdom like you do,’ Rama cajoled.
‘You may have the right to rule this kingdom, Rama, but I will not allow as much as Vibhishana’s shadow to fall on my husband’s pyre!’
‘Devi, I implore you. Let your king depart peacefully. We can sort out our disputes once this funeral is over,’ Rama insisted, joining his hands.
I looked around. We were gathered to venerate Dashaanan’s death. There would be time to resolve personal conflicts. I lowered my eyes and agreed. Vibhishana looked broken but I could neither believe nor sympathize with him.
Dashaanan burial rites were administered by Nanashri and Vibhishana. After the funeral, Rama and Lakshmana performed a yagna in our courtyard. They worshipped Shiva and started a penance to cleanse them of brahmahatya dosha—killing a Brahmin was a sin and as Dashaanan had been half-Brahmin, it was mandatory for them to atone.
The next day, I stood in court as a widowed queen. One by one, the ministers and dignitaries came up to me and expressed their condolences before departing. When my parents came, I whispered to my father, ‘Pitashri, take me with you.’
‘Putri Mandodari, you have a duty towards your kingdom. You cannot come with us. You have to stay here and serve your people. It is time to overcome your grief. Your people need to see the throne stable,’ said my father.
‘We can only extend our help if you really need us. But you have to stay here and justify your position as a queen,’ said my mother, who had unwaveringly held that my loyalty belonged to the kingdom I was married into.
The council left after the war was meagre, the court barren.
Rama, Lakshmana and Vibhishana entered the court. I was enraged but powerless.
‘Rani Mandodari and esteemed council ministers of Lanka, I have an important announcement to make. I would like to crown Vibhishana as your rightful king. He is noble, wise, pious and the lawful holder of the crown. The throne belongs to him now.’
Mandodari Page 20