Yet the creature did nothing. It simply sat there and waited. Its wounds gushed ichor-blood, its jaws yawned open, releasing involuntary moans of pain that reverberated through the cave, vibrating in Sita’s very bones. But it made not a single move to fight back or even defend itself.
Lakshman and Rama looked more uncertain. The creature was wounded sorely, but it was still formidable enough to be dangerous. One swipe of its leathery tail could sweep them off their feet. Its remaining limbs were still tipped with razor-sharp claws, its gaping maw was lined with teeth a tiger would have envied. Why then was it not attacking?
Somashrava turned to Rama. ‘Kill it!’ he shouted over and over in a frenzy akin to madness. ‘Kill the demon of Chitrakut!’
The creature made no move, even though Somashrava, carried away by his desire for long-awaited vengeance, had stepped close enough for it to bite off his head if it pleased. Rama and Lakshman saw this and moved forward, raising their swords again.
Sita took a step forward too, loath to enter the circle of violence unarmed. ‘Rama, Lakshman! Wait.’
Both paused, glancing at her by flicking their eyes yet keeping their heads towards the creature, ready for any demonaic surprises.
‘This is no ordinary asura,’ she said. ‘It is a devotee of Brahma. Look at this shrine beside me. The creature claims to be the pujari of this temple. It speaks the old tongue, like the ancient seers. It spoke kindly to me and did not touch me once.’
‘It abducted you,’ Lakshman said. ‘It is a slayer of innocent children and Brahmins. What devotee of Brahma slays his own fellow Brahmins?’
‘Kill it then. But first ask it who it really is, why it does what it does. There must be some reason why it does these things. I wish to know it if possible,’ she pleaded.
The beast coughed, spraying ichor-blood with each effusion. Somashrava ignored the spray that discoloured his ang-vastra and dhoti. Rama and Lakshman turned their full attention back to it, expecting something to happen. Only Sita knew that the creature was laughing. Laughing, at a time like this! Its voice was hoarse with pain yet its immaculate accent was still in place. ‘The girl is foolishly deluded. This is no time for talk. Kill me, Kshatriya. Plunge your sword into my heart, lop off my head, and avenge the Brahmins I slew.’
Rama and Lakshman stared at the creature. Even Somashrava was taken aback for a moment. Then the Brahmin recovered his wits, yelling, ‘It seeks to deceive us, rajkumars! Do not be fooled by its silken tongue. Slay the beast! Slay the beast!’
Somashrava searched around frantically for a weapon to replace his spear. He cried out in triumph, picking up a rusted mace lying half concealed by dried leaves near the entrance of the cave; no doubt it had belonged to some long-dead warrior who had sought to battle the creature within its lair. Hefting the mace, he swung it as hard as he could, pounding it against the creature’s chest, once, twice, and yet again. Each time the beast emitted a cry of pain, issuing spouts of its vital fluid. The third blow, swung with all of Somashrava’s strength, struck it with such impact that it was violently turned around perforce. It now faced Sita - and the shrine of Brahma. She saw the sunken pits in its chest where the mace had crushed its bones and ribcage.
It slumped forward, bleeding from its multiple wounds. The Brahmin stepped back, exhausted by his effort.
‘Good, good,’ it coughed softly. ‘Pain is good, it is what I deserve for all my crimes. But even infinite blows will not kill me, brave Brahmin. Only my saviour can free my soul from this cursed body-cage. You, who art the consort of the woman I abducted, I beg of you … slay me now. It is what I desire devoutly.’
Rama stepped forward, his face a cross between puzzlement and distrust. ‘Why do you not fight? You abducted my beloved, left a trail for us to follow, led us here into your lair, yet you do not defend yourself or your home. Fight us and I will give you an honourable death.’
‘Honourable?’ The beast emitted a choking noise that might have been its version of a chuckle. Life-fluids oozed from its mouth. ‘I do not deserve any honour. Just a swift, brutally effective end will suffice. Kill me now!’
‘I will kill you, monster!’ Somashrava had turned the mace around, and now plunged its end into the creature’s side, below its second limb, into the soft meat of its underarm. The rusted weapon penetrated several inches, and stuck. The creature wailed in pain. Sita resisted the urge to cover her ears. This was not the way asuras were supposed to die, speaking immaculate Sanskrit and begging to be slain, not lifting a claw to defend themselves. Rama was right. The creature should fight back at least.
‘Foolish one!’ it cried out. ‘I tell you, none of you will kill me though you may pound and hack at me for all eternity. I am destined to die at the hands of only one mortal. And he is here before me. I knew him by his scent the moment he stepped into the bounds of Chitrakut vale.’ It pointed a claw at Rama. ‘You alone are the saviour that was promised me, my last enemy.’
‘Then why did you not attack me in the tree?’ Rama shouted, torn between confusion and caution. ‘Why did you abduct my wife?’
The creature paused to cough out some part of its innards, spitting the offal out on to the cave floor at Somashrava’s feet. He did not move an inch, the mace retrieved and held again at the ready as he listened suspiciously. ‘Because I wished to die here. Before the shrine of my lord,’ it said, its voice weakening.
Sita came up beside Rama. ‘Rama, I don’t understand this. What does this mean? Why won’t the creature fight?’
‘I don’t understand it either,’ Rama said grimly. ‘But I cannot slay a creature that does not fight me. It would be murder. Even its abducting you does not justify my committing such an act.’
‘We know its past crimes,’ Lakshman said. ‘You would be doing the just thing if you executed it for those atrocities.’
‘Your brother speaks truly, rajkumar,’ Somashrava said. He still held the mace menacingly, ready to strike at the beast again. ‘This creature deserves to die a thousand deaths for all the lives it took.’ He raised the mace and swung it down like a mallet. Sita could hear the unmistakable sound of bones crunching beneath the weight of the weapon’s head. The creature roared with fresh pain as its right rear foot lay shattered. Somashrava shouted above the roars: ‘Kill it, Rama, and avenge my father’s and brother’s deaths! Or I will inflict such violence upon it that even death would be a blessed relief in comparison.’
‘Yes!’ the beast roared in fresh agony. ‘Punish me, Rama! Kill me now! Rajkumar Rama? That is how your companions address you, is it not? Whoever you may be, I beg of you, free my soul from this cursed body, release me from the cycle of pain inflicted and pain suffered. Give me my moksh, I beg of you!’
Sita called out: ‘First answer these questions. Who are you? Do you have a name? What is this curse you speak of? Why is only Rama able to kill you?’
The creature moaned and rolled its eyes, finding Sita. ‘If I tell you what you wish to know, will you prevail upon your husband to release me?’
Sita shook her head. ‘He follows his dharma and will do as he must. Even a mountain cannot move him once his mind is made up. But answer my questions and perhaps you may say something that changes his mind.’
The creature’s eyes released two fat yellow tears. They rolled down its muzzle and hung at the rim of its jawline, catching the light of the diyas.
‘Very well then. I will answer your questions. You wish to know my name? I am Viradha. A gandharva in the court of Lord Indra.’
‘Indra? The king of the city of the devas? How could a demon such as yourself be a servant in the court of heaven? Do not lie, monster, or I will shatter your other limb as well with this mace.’ Somashrava moved to allow himself access to the limb in question.
The creature groaned. One teardrop shook, then broke free and splattered on the ground. It was lost in the pool of vital fluids that had seeped out of its wounds. ‘I know it is difficult to believe, yet why would I lie when it can only prolong
my pain? Listen to me. I was once a gandharva in Lord Indra’s court, but I fell from favour.’
‘How did you become what you are now?’ Sita asked. ‘What are you anyway?’
‘I was overcome by a lust for acquiring wealth beyond my means. This led me to commit many sins which plunged me further into acts of wrongdoing. Over time I became a devotee of Lord Kubera, the treasurer of the devas. I sought to absolve all my wrongdoings by committing my crimes in the name of Kubera. Kubera learned of my misuse of his name and cursed me. He turned me into this thing you see before you, a creature that can never walk on two legs but must crawl and slide across the dirt of the ground.’
Somashrava lowered the mace. It was heavy, and the Brahmin blinked as he considered the asura’s words.
Lakshman asked, ‘And why do you call my brother your saviour? Why is he alone destined to kill you?’
The creature that was once Viradha groaned. The other teardrop shivered at the rim of its jaw, but remained fixed. ‘After I was cursed by Kubera and thrown down to the mortal plane in this place, the vale of Chitrakut, I regretted my past sins and began to repent. In my desperation I turned towards Lord Brahma, because those who worship Brahma-dev must eschew all wealth and worldly possessions. I built this shrine so I could worship in secret and prayed night and day to the Creator. Finally, Lord Brahma appeared before me. When he asked me what I wished in return for my long penance, I said I desired to be a Brahmin.’
‘A Brahmin?’ Somashrava put the mace down, gaping in surprise. ‘You? A Brahmin? Impossible!’ Yet he asked, with evident curiosity, ‘What was Brahma-dev’s response?’
‘He said my wish would be granted, but only after I was released from this body. And that would only happen when a certain Kshatriya came to Chitrakut and felled me. Until then, I had to live in this vale and prey on any who dared to inhabit it.’
‘But you attacked Brahmins! Children! You killed my father and brother!’ Somashrava shouted.
‘I did the task that Brahma-dev had appointed me to do. I do not say I liked what I did. Yet it made a certain kind of sense. Only Brahmins and brahmacharyas came to these desolate woods. If I continued attacking them, sooner or later a Kshatriya would come to find me and put an end to the demon of Chitrakut.’ The beast sighed wearily. ‘Many did come over the years, but none was the one destined to slay me. Until today.’
They were all silent, considering the import of the creature’s words. Sita shook her head, amazed. It was almost too fantastic to believe, yet why would the creature lie? Especially when all it sought was its own demise.
She touched Rama’s shoulder. He looked at her. ‘I believe it. I feel it speaks the truth.’
Lakshman shrugged. ‘In any case, it wants what we want: to be dead. Kill it, Rama. Free it for another life, or end the menace. Either way you will perform a great service to the Brahmins of Chitrakut as well as to this tortured soul.’
Even Somashrava agreed, his face still red with anger. ‘Yes. Kill it anyway, Rajkumar Rama. One way or other, its life must end today.’
Rama was silent. Sita waited for him to make his decision, knowing that to try to sway him was useless, yet hoping with all her heart that he would do as they all wished. She could not bear to see the poor beast suffer any more. Killing asuras in self-defence was one thing. This was needless suffering.
Before anyone knew what was happening, the creature moved. It swung around with frightening speed, surprising them all with the suddenness of its reaction. Before Sita could blink, it had grasped her by the waist with its still functional middle limbs. It swung her up into the air, toward its jaws. ‘Slay me now or I will tear out your wife’s throat and drink her pulsing blood! One more life means nothing to me in the service of Brahma!’ The words were a cry rather than a threat, yet its jagged teeth were poised above Sita’s slender throat.
Rama’s reaction was even swifter than the creature’s action. Before Sita knew what had happened, she found herself falling to the cave floor. She landed hard on her shoulder, wrenching it slightly, but managing belatedly to roll with the fall. Something landed beside her, spattering wetly on the rock floor. The creature’s middle limb, the one which had caught and held her up to its maw. She turned in time to see Rama straddling the creature’s nether body, his sword swinging in a fatal arc. As the sword bit into the creature’s neck, she saw the beast open its mouth one last time in that same leering grin. Then the sword cut through and through, decapitating it.
A moment later, the beast’s head landed with a thud on the far side of the cave, rolling twice before coming to a halt. Sita could see the lizard eyes, still living. The mouth emitted a sigh that might only have been the last breath escaping, but she knew better. Then the creature’s eyes shut and it was at peace. She looked back over her shoulder, confirming a doubt: the beast’s eyes had looked at the stone effigy of Brahma as it died, asking the Creator’s blessings one final time.
ELEVEN
They left Sage Agastya’s ashram the morning after slaying the beast Viradha. Every single Brahmin came out to bid them farewell, even the crippled and maimed ones who normally worked indoors. Sita’s heart went out to one little brahmacharya held up by two of his older brethren; one arm was severed at the elbow and both his legs were missing below the mid-thighs. He could not have been more than ten years of age. With some difficulty, he raised his sole hand to wave at her bravely. She waved back.
‘If only killing the demon had undone all the evil it did here as well,’ she said, ‘then perhaps I could live with the knowledge that it was Lord Brahma himself who sent it here. Though I still wouldn’t be able to understand why the Creator would send such a creature to torment the innocent people of Chitrakut.’
Rama finished adjusting Lakshman’s rig. ‘If we could understand the ways of the devas, we would be devas.’
Lakshman peered over his shoulder, checking the repaired rig, which had broken in the furious pursuit through the woods the night before. ‘Rama’s right, Sita-bhabhi. Everything fits a larger purpose. Brahma-dev must have some great plan, or he would not have sent the demon to this place. Besides, each one of us has his own karma. The Brahmins who died or were injured, they must be paying the karmic cost of some past misdeed too.’
Sita knew Lakshman and Rama were both right but was still reluctant to concede the point. ‘Even so. It just seems to be so cruel.’
Rama turned to her. ‘Nature seems cruel too, Sita. So many innocents die or are maimed in natural disasters every year. Nature doesn’t do these things deliberately. It’s only seeking to maintain its own balance, and if in doing so it inadvertently causes suffering to a few, well, then it also ensures the survival of many. Think of the demon Viradha as a force of nature, no different from any typhoon, flood or earthquake.’ To underline his point, he gestured at the ashram gates crowded by happy brahmacharyas, waving and chanting benevolent slokas at them.
She would have said something in response to that, but just then Lakshman announced he was finally ready. They turned back together and waved at the Brahmins of Chitrakut ashram. They had already said their farewells and shown their respects to Sage Agastya earlier that morning; after washing themselves clean in the river, they had even found time for darshan at the various shrines. The temple of Brahma in the cave of the demon Viradha would be cleaned and maintained by the ashramites; it would henceforth stand as a memorial to those who had been taken by the creature.
They set out at a brisk pace. The success of the night before had energised them, given both Rama and Lakshman a vigour that had been less evident before they arrived at Chitrakut. Only Sita felt less than vigorous, and vaguely dissatisfied with the detour to Agastya’s ashram. Instead of receiving the ashirwaad of the maharishi and spending a few peaceful hours in the last human company they would find for a long while, the visit had turned into the very opposite of her expectation. She still cringed inwardly at the memory of the brutal violence in the cave.
She glanced at Rama as th
ey walked through a dense grove of manai, the slender creepers hanging down like the tresses of celestial apsaras. Rama was intent on ducking his head to avoid it striking the fibrous ends of the manai. He didn’t seem troubled by the events of the previous night. But then, that was Rama. He might have misgivings about taking a life and engaging in violence, but once engaged, he put all his energies into completing the task, no matter how brutal the slaughter. She had witnessed him in action on at least four separate occasions now - at their first meeting in the encounter with the bear-slayers, at the Pit of Vasuki, in the duel with Parsurama, and last night. In fact, ever since meeting Rama, her life seemed to have been one violent encounter after another. It was true that she had been raised a warrior princess, but she had never desired war or combat. She had desired only to be able to defend herself and her loved ones against any aggressive assault. She guessed that Rama felt similarly, in that all the fights he’d been involved in had been for the purpose of helping thwart some aggressor’s attack. But he was also more eager than the average Kshatriya to engage in such encounters, volunteering his services where they were required. It was different before, she admitted to herself reluctantly, but we are married now. Surely that counted for something.
She tried to convince herself that her shocking abduction by Viradha was not the cause of her concern over Rama’s repeated engagements with violence, but it was difficult. After all, despite Rama being right beside her, skin to skin, the demon had been able to pluck her up and away. If it had truly intended harm, she would have been dead before she reached the cave, or worse, eaten alive within that rocky grotto long before Rama and the others even reached there. It was a sobering thought, and the more distance she put between herself and the place where it had happened, the more relieved she felt to be away. What if she, or even Rama or Lakshman for that matter, had been maimed, losing a limb or an eye in that fight? Would life truly be no different than it was before? It wasn’t that she feared being maimed itself. She was willing to take whatever challenges life brought her, and face them head-on. But to choose to participate in violence, as they had done the night before, was to choose to accept such maimings and loss of life as inevitable. For sooner or later, as all Kshatriyas knew, violence took its toll. The memory of those crippled brahmacharya acolytes, their little bodies misshapen by their losses, tugged at her heart. Was it not enough that she and her husband were in exile? That they would be removed from human civilisation and companionship for fourteen long years? Forced to live deep within a hostile jungle where they would face any number of natural wild animals and predators, and even the occasional asura? Was it not enough that violence would find them and they would be forced to defend themselves against it, remaining vigilant night and day? Did they have to add to that heavy burden and risk by additionally going out in search of more violence? Seeking to invoke aggression upon dangerous beasts like Viradha?
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