‘You think this is a game,’ Kausalya said, fighting to keep her voice level. ‘A game of thrones. But it isn’t. It’s a game of souls, Kaikeyi. Souls.’
Kaikeyi had drawn both legs up on the throne, rearing back until her head touched the hard carved wood of the backrest. She was dwarfed by the seat despite her ample bulk. The sunwood throne had a way of making those who were small at heart seem small in stature as well. She saw that Kausalya wasn’t attacking her physically as she’d expected, and relaxed slightly, resuming her chewing.
‘Souls?’ she said, then giggled hysterically. Betelnut juice oozed from the corner of her mouth. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? A game of souls?’
‘It’s the game you chose to play when you danced with the lord of demons, Kaikeyi,’ Kausalya said. ‘The game that brought you from lying drunken and naked on your back in my husband’s bed to this great seat of power. Do you follow what I’m speaking of now, First Queen?’
Kaikeyi’s eyes narrowed at Kausalya’s words. ‘Still jealous over that, sister-queen? Get over it. I was Dasaratha’s first lust, and his last. His last, Kausalya. Do you follow what I’m speaking of?’
The revelation hit Kausalya like a slap. She had noticed Dasaratha’s dishevelled clothes and untied langot when she had had him removed from the kosaghar back to his chambers, but the maharaja’s very condition had made it impossible for her to think of such a thing. Now she knew. So the second queen and the daiimaa had somehow bewitched Dasaratha into performing the conjugal dance one final time with Kaikeyi. Devi alone knew what vile sorcery they had employed to achieve such an end.
Kausalya had also noticed the strange phenomenon of Dasaratha’s appearance in the kosaghar. Despite his collapsed condition, the maharaja nevertheless seemed to look younger than he had done only hours earlier. She had put that down to her own stressed state at the time, but now it all made sense. The jal-bartan with the last dregs of some potion that Manthara had been clutching when they entered. The daiimaa had been pouring the last of it into Dasaratha’s mouth when they had come into the kosaghar. And who knew how much more of the vile stuff Kaikeyi herself had made Dasa drink earlier? What the potion was, it was impossible to tell, after Manthara had shattered the vessel to shards, spilling the last of the concoction. What was certain was that it was no herbal mixture. Kausalya’s memory still held fresh, vivid images of the day she had found Dasaratha lying in his bed, lips blue allegedly from the poison in the fruit punch Sumitra had mixed for him. A whole lot of things had become clear since the serving girl’s appearance and demise, and any last vestiges of doubt were decisively swept away by Manthara’s ‘coming-out’ in the kosaghar. The shrew and the witch, that was the enemy within that they were faced with, had been faced with for devi knew how long without their knowledge; they were the ones within the royal family that Guru Vashishta had sensed and spoken of at the secret meeting he had called in the seal room the night of Rama and Lakshman’s departure to the Bhayanak-van. But even the great seer’s powers had been obfuscated by the potent shakti of the Lord of Lanka. Ravana’s armies might have been decimated by the release of the Brahm-astra at Mithila. But his spasas were still active and alive, here in the very heart of Ayodhya.
Not for long, Kausalya vowed. Not for long. If I have to fight them with my last breath, so be it. Whatever else happens, I will see to it that they do not prevail in the end. As the gods are my witness, I will rid Ayodhya of this unholy duo or die fighting them.
‘You may have sapped him of his seed,’ she said aloud now, giving Kaikeyi no opportunity to take pleasure in her vulgar revelation. ‘But in doing so, you have also sapped him of his life. Do you know that your own countrymen now speak of you with shifty eyes and low voices as a result of your doings in the kosaghar? They call you “king-slayer”. Are you pleased?’
‘Who says that?’ Kaikeyi rose to her feet, stumbling over her own sari’s hem. ‘Which son of a whore dares to speak of me that way? Show him to me! I will have him torn apart by stallions and feed the remnants to the city dogs!’
Kausalya took care to stay out of range of the betelnut spittle issuing from Kaikeyi’s mouth. The new First Queen’s breath, even from a distance of almost two yards, stank vilely of alcohol and some rancid thing she couldn’t identify. What was in that paan anyway? The stuff dripping down the sides of the spittoon didn’t look like normal betelnut and tobacco juice.
‘How many will you torture and execute, Kaikeyi?’ she asked. ‘All of them? And once you’re done dispensing this brutal brand of injustice, what then? Who will stand by you and help you rule this vast kingdom? Sitting on the sunwood throne is no mean task. Women have sat on it before, and ruled as wisely as men. For the Kshatriya code does not distinguish between sexes. But man or woman, it takes a person of rare strength of character to wear that heavy crown and wield the sword of justice. Are you capable of taking on that task, and ruling under the shadow of accusations of murdering your own husband—’
‘I didn’t mean to kill him,’ Kaikeyi screamed, her mouth an open red-black hole in her face. ‘I told him to have the tonic. The tonic made him younger and healthier! He was so virile, so strong again … it was like the years, the illness, everything had fallen away. But he vomited it out. He put his fingers down his throat and induced himself to bring it all up! And he would not take any more, even when I begged and pleaded. Manthara said—’
She stopped abruptly. Looked around and seemed to grow aware of her surroundings, her situation. She looked down at the gold thali lying on the armrest of the throne. It was half filled with paans. They all seemed to contain the same purplish-red stuffing that produced the peculiar juice Kaikeyi had been spitting out. A look of horror came over Kaikeyi’s face. She raised a hand and slapped the edge of the thali. It flew up into the air, cartwheeling front over back, spilling paans everywhere
-Kausalya stepped back hurriedly to avoid a few - and flew to the left-hand side of the dais, there to crash and crash again until it came to a rolling halt and fell, ringing out one final time. Kaikeyi turned, and before Kausalya knew what she was doing, she was before her, clutching her hand tight enough to hurt, her eyes brimming with fat tears.
‘You don’t understand,’ Kaikeyi said in a voice wholly unlike the arrogant loftiness with which she’d greeted Kausalya only moments earlier. ‘She drugs me somehow. And controls me. Her voice is inside my head all the time now. Telling me what to do. And if I try to resist or fight her … she … she … ‘
Kaikeyi screamed. It was the banshee wail of a lost soul. Heart-rending and horrible, it raised the hackles on Kausalya’s arms and the back of her neck. It was the kind of sound you might expect to hear from a mother whose only child had just died, not a queen-mother on the day of her son’s coronation.
‘Help me,’ she sobbed, falling at Kausalya’s feet, clinging to her hopelessly, helplessly. ‘Help me, please. She makes me do these things. She made me do it all. I tried to reach out to you, to warn you, to warn Rama … in the street last night … the procession … you saw me … And later, before the wretched servant girl died … But it was too late already. She had a hold of me.’ Kaikeyi shuddered. ‘She was inside me, Kausalya! I can’t describe how it feels. It’s horrible! She’s completely mad now, I think. Driven crazy by … She kept talking to me as if I was her master, master this and master that … but it was only her, speaking through me, answering herself … and all the while, I could only watch and hear and feel my body being used, but I had no control … except for moments like this, when she’s distracted by something, or really communicating with her master.’
Kaikeyi clutched Kausalya’s feet, striking them with her forehead repeatedly. ‘I can’t fight her any more, Kausalya. Help me. Save me. I’ll die before I go on like this another moment. Please!’
Kausalya bent down, putting her arms around the shuddering, shaking woman. Her own mouth was dry, her heart thudding. Kaikeyi’s scream had chilled her to the core; her confession had set her ablaze
. She didn’t know how much of this to believe and how much might be part of some new sinister scheme the duo had cooked up. But despite her better sense, she believed Kaikeyi. Most of all, she believed that this woman, the woman lying at her feet and sobbing her guts out, was the real Kaikeyi, pleasure-seeking, self-centred - even now Kaikeyi only thought of herself, not what she had done to Rama or Dasaratha under Manthara’s evil influence - but not the arrogant, supremely in-control bitch who had greeted Kausalya when she had entered the sabha hall. Yes, she thought, this is the woman who spoke to me through the mouth of the dying serving girl. This is our Kaikeyi, not Manthara’s and Ravana’s Kaikeyi.
She was about to speak, to comfort and reassure the sobbing queen, when a brilliant flash of green light exploded, blinding her momentarily. She gasped, taken by surprise, and peered through the darkness that had suddenly descended.
Manthara stood on the royal dais. A corona of green flame flickered at the periphery of her contours, then faded away.
SIX
‘Stand up,’ the daiimaa said to Kaikeyi. ‘Stand up and step away from that woman. She cannot help you now. Nobody can. Only I have the power to save you, Kaikeyi. Only I.’
Kaikeyi remained prone on the dais at Kausalya’s feet. She looked up at Kausalya, her face streaked with smudged collyrium and ornamental colours, the sindhoor in her parting oozing like blood down her forehead. ‘No! I won’t do it any more. I won’t let you use me! Leave me alone, Manthara!’
Manthara chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the vastness of the great hall. ‘Come now, my queen. There is much to be done yet. Your son will arrive soon, to be crowned liege-heir. And before the ending of this very day, he shall inherit the throne and become king as well.’ Her eyes looked slyly at Kausalya. ‘For we all know that his highness will not last this day. It is your good fortune to see your son rise to the stature of prince-heir and then king within the space of a single day. Rise and embrace your fortune.’
‘Bharat’s gone to his grandfather’s house,’ Kaikeyi said, her voice turning falsetto with stress. ‘He knows nothing of what happened here. He will not return in time for any coronation.’
The daiimaa clucked her tongue disapprovingly. ‘Don’t you remember anything, my rani? You had riders sent to Kaikeya the instant Dasaratha caved in and granted you the two boons. Bharat would have received the news and left Kaikeya hours ago. He will be here at any moment. Would you have him see you in this sorry state? You are a queen-mother now. If you cannot act like one, for his sake at least look the part!’
Kaikeyi stared up at Kausalya, pleading with her eyes. She shook her head from side to side, repeating over and over again, ‘Save me save me save me.’
Kausalya swallowed and looked up at the daiimaa. Manthara was standing beside the sunwood throne, dwarfed by its stature. Her bent grey-haired head came barely to the pedestal of the throne. She had her hand on the pedestal, carved to resemble a lion’s foot, and was stroking and caressing it slowly, like one might pet a favourite dog or parrot.
‘You have what you want already,’ Kausalya said. ‘Leave Kaikeyi out of the rest. Set her free from your power. Let her be herself again.’
Manthara smiled and frowned at the same time. ‘Herself? And who might that be? What woman is it you speak of, Rani Kausalya? A snivelling, self-centred, self-indulgent, hedonistic woman whose only goal is to pleasure herself into oblivion from dawn to dusk? A spoilt overgrown brat of a girl who has never truly matured over the mental age of fifteen? A selfish bitch of a she-whelp who cares about nothing and nobody but herself? Is that the woman you want her to become again?’
‘If that is all she was, then yes, let her be just that,’ Kausalya said. ‘But a lot of those faults were encouraged by you. That’s very clear now. From the outset you were manipulating and shaping her to suit your own dark purposes, just as you yourself have been manipulated by your evil master.’
A dark cloud passed across Manthara’s sneering features. ‘I’ve had enough of your rubbish talk about manipulations and misshapings. First old whitebeard, now you. I’ll advise you to watch your tongue when speaking of my master, Rani Kausalya. Even being Rama’s mother won’t help you much if he takes offence at your blasphemous accusations.’ Her lips curled in a snarling smile. ‘After all, he can hardly come running all the way from Dandaka-van every time you are in trouble, now can he?’
Kausalya bit her cheek to hold back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue. No, she admonished herself. It would not do to cross words with this vile creature. Manthara was only a tool in the hand of a greater power. If she was to win this war, if not this battle, then it was against that greater power that she must pit her strength.
‘I have a message to give you, Manthara,’ Kausalya said quietly. ‘A message you must pass on to your master, wherever he might be at this time. Can you do that?’
Manthara peered at her suspiciously. Her eyes were filmed over with some condition of her age, Kausalya saw. By rights she should have been partly or wholly blind, yet she was able to see. Then Kausalya realised that the occlusions had not been there before. As recently as Holi feast day, she recalled seeing the daiimaa’s eyes quite clear and grey as ever. The explanation for this unnatural phenomenon came to her in a flash of insight. He has blinded her, that she might see only that which he wishes her to see. So he has given her cataracts in both eyes and made her blind to human reality. Everything she sees is distorted by the asura shakti she uses in place of natural eyesight. And the more she uses that unholy shakti, the more he corrupts and controls her.
‘What message might that be?’ Manthara asked suspiciously. ‘You’ll be sorry if you try to pull some sorcerous trick on me, rani. Don’t go underestimating my powers. I may have laid low all these years, but every moment, every season, I was gaining great vidya and shakti from my master. Now I am able to take on any seer you pit against me, no matter how much Brahman shakti he may wield.’
Kausalya held out her hands, palms facing up. ‘Do I look like I mean to attack you?’ She indicated the empty, cavernous sabha hall. ‘Do you see anyone else here besides me? Or perhaps you think I might speak a simple mantra and call upon the devi to grant me her strength.’ Kausalya paused, indicating a portrait of the devi that hung on the wall behind the dais. ‘And her trishul as well.’
Manthara started. For a second, her eyes flashed to the portrait, reacted, then blinked rapidly. The daiimaa visibly fought to regain control of her emotions before she glowered again at Kausalya, her eyes flashing green this time. ‘Don’t patronise me, rani. You had your say, now speak your message and get lost from here. I have better things to do than to stand around and banter with you all day. Speak!’
Kausalya took a deep breath and released it slowly, using the pranayam method to calm her senses and slow her metabolism. If her judgement was correct, she ought to have bought enough time by now for the others assembled outside to play their part. Yes, it was time to act now, before the old witch grew more suspicious and simply blew her away with a blast of her asura sorcery. She wasn’t afraid of personal harm coming to her as much as she was anxious not to lose this precious opportunity to disarm and disable this cursed thorn in the side of her family and future. Manthara must go, and she must go now, before she turned Ayodhya itself into a seething swamp of asura evil.
And the burden of ridding the land of the witch fell to Kausalya. Now. Here. At this very place and time.
‘Listen well then, old woman. This message is for your master, he who calls himself Lord of Lanka. Ravana! Hear these words now! And feel the power and might of Brahman towering before you!’
She stepped forward and bent down to pick up the still weeping Kaikeyi lying on the floor. ‘Rise, sister,’ she said gently. ‘The time has come for you to think and act for yourself, not as a pawn in this game of thrones and souls.’
And before Manthara could grasp what she was doing, Kausalya placed her hands tightly around Kaikeyi’s head and began to chant the
Sanskrit slokas Guru Vashishta had infused into her mind before she had entered the sabha hall.
||Asuryah namah tey loka aandhyen tamasavratya||
||Tan asthey preytyabhigshanthi yet keych atma-hanah janah||
Manthara screamed. The foulest curse Kausalya had ever heard was spat from the green witch’s lips, aimed at Kausalya’s heart. It was less an abuse than a spell. Something struck Kausalya directly in the chest with the impact and unbelievable painfulness of a dagger flung at her breast. She staggered back, teetering on the brink of the dais. Manthara screeched again, furious at being outwitted, and threw her hand out, palm facing Kausalya, making a shoving gesture. Kausalya felt as if the hand were at her breast, pushing with savage force, rather than ten yards away. She lost her balance and fell violently off the dais, arms cartwheeling instinctively.
Devi protect me! she cried silently, then she hit the ground with a bone-crushing crunch and lost consciousness.
She came round a few seconds later to see Manthara dragging Kaikeyi by the hair towards the throne. She blinked, and stars flashed before her eyes, blazing white and then black and then red. She tried to feel if she had broken anything. She couldn’t tell for certain, but she didn’t think so, although the back of her head ached terribly, and her elbow was sore too. Luckily for her, the sabha hall was carpeted from wall to wall to accommodate all the samiti representatives who sat cross-legged on the floor.
She struggled to her feet and called out, ‘Kaikeyi, listen to me. The spell was broken the instant I uttered that mantra. You have been freed of the witch’s curse. Resist her, fight her if you must. She has no more power over you.’
‘SILENCE!’ Manthara screamed, turning to point one gnarled finger at Kausalya. A spear of light as thin as a longbow arrow shot from the tip of her finger straight to Kausalya. It even felt like an arrow when it struck her in her right shoulder, the impact powerful enough to lift her off her feet and fling her further across the sabha hall. She landed several yards away, but regained her feet almost immediately. Agony exploded at the juncture of her right shoulder and collarbone.
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