PRINCE IN EXILE

by AKB eBOOKS Ashok K. Banker

  ‘They are not what I expected,’ Lakshman said, mercifully breaking into his tortured thoughts, ‘your vanars.’

  My vanars? Yes, they were his vanars now, he supposed. Most of all, Hanuman, with whom he felt a bond growing with surprising quickness. ‘They are stout-hearted and wholly innocent in their emotions. It’s a rare quality to find among mortals.’ he replied.

  ‘Yes, I see that. But …’ Lakshman hesitated.

  ‘But?’

  ‘But are they strong enough to take on an army of rakshasas?’ Lakshman asked.

  Rama was silent as he pondered that. ‘I do not know. I think it depends on how many rakshasas we have to face.’

  ‘Then that is the first thing we must find out,’ Lakshman said. ‘Before we go to Lanka, we must send someone to spy out the lie of the land and the strength of the enemy, and—’ Lakshman paused again. ‘And see if Sita is safe and well.’

  Rama’s throat tightened. ‘Yes. We will send spasas.’

  ‘And we will have to train these vanars, if we are to lead them into battle against rakshasas. No matter how many the enemy be in number, the rakshasas are bred for battle. They do not back down from a fight until every last one is wiped out. These vanars are stout of heart but they are not natural predators. They do not even hunt or eat flesh. They have never fought rakshasas in an open battle, I think. I am not sure how they will fare without preparation and training.’

  ‘We will train them,’ Rama said.

  ‘And we must start very soon. Each day that passes is a day in hell for Sita. Devi alone knows what she must be going through in that lair of rakshasas. I cannot bear to even think of it. The sooner we march for Lanka, the sooner we will be able to free her from the clutches of that villain.’

  ‘We will march soon,’ Rama said.

  Lakshman fell silent then. Rama knew that he was thinking as well of Sita, and of what she might be going through at this very minute. He tried not to think the same thoughts, knowing they would only draw him into the spiral of despair he had been battling ever since they had set out for the redmist ranges to seek the aid of the vanar sena.

  He put his hand on Lakshman’s shoulders, squeezing tightly.

  Lakshman looked up at him, his eyes shining wetly in the gloom. He clutched Rama’s hand in an iron vice, and Rama squeezed back as hard as he could. They sat like that as the sky went from indigo to black and the stars came out like a wedding panoply embedded with glittering gems above them. In the distance, vanars called out to each other and the night grew peaceful and calm. In the night sky, the stars twinkled and turned as they had turned for countless aeons and the world went about its business as if this day was no different from any others before it or yet to come.

  SIX

  King Sugreeva’s face looked even sadder in the artificial light. The vanars had found rocklights and set them around the meeting place beneath the great tree, out of consideration for the reduced night vision of their mortal allies. The oddly shaped rocks gave off a weak greenish glow that seemed barely sufficient to dispel the thick jungle darkness, but as Lakshman’s eyes grew accustomed to them, he found he could see quite well. The same set of elders that were present at their arrival were here again, along with Angad, Hanuman and a few other younger vanars whom he presumed were watchguards, although they seemed more interested in the meeting than in keeping a lookout. Lakshman found their lack of watchfulness disturbing, and took it as yet another vanar habit that would have to be changed if they were to face Ravana’s army.

  He had expressed his concerns to Rama, and Rama had given him exactly the responses he had expected, but what neither of them had said aloud was the fear that the vanars, for all their bravado and pride, would be no more than butcher’s blocks for the brutal blades of the rakshasas of Lanka. Lakshman did not know if the vanars in Kiskindha were more disciplined or warlike, but if they were also the same as these exiled ones, then he did not have great hopes for their prospects of victory. The brigands they had led against the rakshasas in Chitrakut and had eventually defeated in Janasthana had been fighting men all, battling for their very survival. These vanars, even if they sent an army to aid Rama in his cause, had no true motivation. Win or lose, it would make no difference to them individually. Their homes, their lands, their loved ones, nothing was endangered, nothing hinged on the outcome of that conflict. And while several showed great spirit and warriorlike drive—Angad was certainly one, Hanuman another, that ageing general Sharaka—Lakshman was uncertain if they possessed the necessary martial skills to face and conquer rakshasas.

  King Sugreeva spoke then, compelling Lakshman to pack away his troubled thoughts for the nonce.

  ‘My friends, I have asked you here at this late hour because I wish to tell you the story of my brother Vali and myself. Tomorrow, as we have mutually decided, we march for Kiskindha. It is only right, therefore, that I inform you of the reasons for my conflict with my brother that you may understand why you risk your lives on the morrow.’

  ‘We listen with great interest, Great One,’ Rama said. ‘My brother and I both wish to know of the history of this conflict, and of how a venerable vanar such as yourself came to be cast out of his own house and kingdom to wander the wilderness of Mount Rishimukha thus. Please, tell your story.’

  Lakshman voiced his agreement and encouraged the vanar king to narrate his tale. Sugreeva’s face grew grave and sombre, his eyes welling with tears even before he could utter a single word, and Angad rose and came to his father’s side, speaking softly in his ear. Sugreeva shook his head, wiped his eyes, then looked up at Rama and Lakshman. Angad returned to his seat, and Lakshman was surprised to see his hard features softened by his concern for his father. So the young warrior prince was not all hardsteel and coldrage after all.

  ‘I beg your indulgence,’ Sugreeva said, making no effort to hide the sadness in his voice, ‘but these memories bring great anguish to my heart. It is all I can bear to recall them, let alone relate them. Yet I feel I must tell you these things, for no warrior should be expected to do battle without knowing what it is he fights for.’

  After another brief pause, in which the vanar king appeared to collect his emotions, Sugreeva continued. This time the king continued without pause. He began by telling them of his childhood on these very slopes of Rishimukha, where he and his brother Vali had played together, the happiest of siblings. From the very outset, Vali had been gifted with extraordinary strength of limb and fierceness of nature, it seemed. All the anecdotes of their childhood games ended with Vali as the king of the heap. Lakshman began to discern a familiar pattern in this recounting, like countless other tales of an older, stronger, more aggressive sibling and a weaker, more passive one, and the inevitable conflicts and rivalries that sprung up between them. Sugreeva, it seemed, had been gentle from birth, and overly sensitive to boot, a quality that was evident even today, in Lakshman’s unvoiced opinion.

  As the story progressed, Vali and Sugreeva grew into youth, then early adulthood. Vali, as Lakshman would have expected, was the more promiscuous of the two, sowing his wild oats freely and without restraint, much desired by every fertile female vanar in Kiskindha, while Sugreeva favoured the pursuit of knowledge rather than sensual pleasure. As they grew, they also grew apart, and their childhood games and brotherhood seemed a faint memory. But for his own part, Sugreeva always retained a strong sense of kinship and always regarded even his brother’s most outrageous exploits with the indulgent eye of a younger brother who still looked up to and worshipped his older sibling. He did not know whether or not Vali felt the same way about him, but from a few caustic comments and bitter barbs in public, he guessed that his brother felt ashamed of Sugreeva’s gentler unwarlike pursuits. When Sugreeva was chosen for matehood by a particularly beautiful vanari from a high- ranking noble family, Vali inexplicably flew into a resentful rage. After that, the rift between them grew wider, but it was always Vali who moved farther away, despite every effort Sugreeva made to extend a hand o
f brotherhood. Over time, Sugreeva grew to accept his brother’s contrary nature and settled down to a life of peaceful matrimony and scholarship. After all, the crown must pass to Vali, he being the elder born and natural heir to the throne.

  So when their father died, Vali was inevitably proclaimed king. But naturally, Sugreeva posed no conflict to ascension, congratulating Vali on his newfound stature and offering his assistance if needed. Vali sneered and showed Sugreeva his stiffened tail in full view of the court, snubbing his younger brother in a most unkinglike manner. It was a portent of things to come.

  After that, events followed a tragic course. Vali became a tyrant of a king, despotic, irrational, given to excessive indulgences in every imaginable vice, and most terrifying of all, violent outbursts during which he wreaked bloodshed and terror throughout the kingdom. In one such outburst, he had his way forcibly with Tara, Sugreeva’s lawful wife, against Tara’s wishes. For a vanar to copulate with a female against her wishes went against the very grain of vanar dharma. It was ever the female who chose her mate, never the other way around. Rape of a female was one of the worst crimes against dharma a vanar could perpetuate. Yet Sugreeva, when approached by the outraged ministers of the court, did not have the heart to levy charges against his own brother. He knew that if he did so, Vali would be pronounced unfit to rule, and he, Sugreeva would have to assume the throne. He felt he would be going against his father’s last wishes by doing so. So he swallowed his pain and hurt, and persuaded Tara to forgive Vali and not press the issue further. Reluctantly, she agreed, although Sugreeva felt that after that day, her life-light diminished and she grew despondent and morose, qualities that had never been part of her character.

  King Sugreeva paused, marking a crucial point in the tale. His face was streaked with tears that had sprung up again during the last portion of his narration. Lakshman noticed that out of deference to their king’s sorrow, none of the other vanars were looking directly at Sugreeva. He found it difficult to do so himself.

  ‘Shortly after that incident,’ Sugreeva continued. ‘Vali had a fight over a female. It was one of many such fights he had had over the years, and he probably assumed as always that he would win this fight as well, if not by his own brute strength, then by the superior might of the vanar forces at his command. No vanar male confronted or challenged Vali and lived. But this one was different. This vanar was Mayavi, son of Dundubhi.’

  From the way the others suddenly sucked in their breath and bobbed their heads, Lakshman deduced that both son and father were formidable warriors. He leaned forward, listening intently. This mention of a vanar fight was just the kind of thing he desired to hear, to better understand the capabilities of these people in actual combat.

  ‘Mayavi was not the first vanar to come bellowing to the gates of Kiskindha Palace, demanding that Vali confront him. Nor was he the first to do so in the dead of night, when even the most ferocious vanars set aside their differences and grouses and wait until daybreak. But he was the first to take on the guards at the gate and kill them all. So great was his rage, and so formidable his strength, Mayavi faced and killed an entire gotra of Vali’s guards. After which, he resumed his bellowing, shouting vile insults at Vali and challenging him to a fight. Killing his guards might not have provoked Vali, who was given to cutting down even his own bodyguards when they displeased him, or simply to vent his foul temper at times, but he could not brook insults against his person. Vali descended, swearing to kill Mayavi where he stood. Vali’s many wives—for he had kept his wives captive in the palace, against vanar practice—pleaded with him not to go, weeping copiously. For even when wronged, a vanar retains his sentimental loyalty and they could not bear the idea of him being killed by the wild Mayavi. Even I had been awakened by all the fighting and shouting and I pleaded with Vali as well. But he pushed us all aside and stalked out.

  ‘I rushed after Vali, exiting the palace gates at that unearthly hour. Only to find that Mayavi was no longer at the gate but had left the city, leaving a trail of death and destruction that even a blind vanar could follow. Vali, now enraged beyond any sense or logic, pursued Mayavi out of the city, and I followed Vali, in the hope of persuading him to leave off this foolish duel.

  ‘Mayavi led Vali to a hill on the outskirts of Kiskindha. There he seemed to have escaped into a cave that led to a labyrinthine subterranean network of natural cave formations. A massive boulder was usually kept rolled in front of the cave’s entrance to prevent young vanars from venturing inside, for the caves were dangerous and once lost, you could wander inside forever and not find your way out. Mayavi had managed to push this boulder aside with his prodigious strength, which alone was a feat in itself. But clearly, he had a sinister plan, and he had deliberately tricked Vali into following him into the caves. I caught up with Vali as he was about to enter the cave’s mouth, and pleaded with him not to go. He abused me and called me foul names, and charged me with standing guard at the cave’s mouth to ensure that Mayavi did not double back on his tracks and escape while Vali was inside. In the passion of that moment, he made me swear an oath upon our father’s grave. Then, without another word, he disappeared into the cave.’

  King Sugreeva looked around, his glistening eyes meeting Lakshman’s briefly.

  ‘I waited all that night, the next day, and six more nights and days. Vali did not come out nor did I go inside to seek him out, for he had made me swear a terrible oath and I could not break that oath. At first, I reasoned that if it was a trap, then Mayavi would kill Vali and emerge from the cave. Then, when Mayavi did not come out, I thought that perhaps Vali had outwitted and outfought Mayavi, and killed him. But Vali did not emerge either. Weeks passed. I lived like a hermit on that hillside. Vanars came and went from the city, my wife Tara among them, and as time passed, people began saying that Vali must surely be dead by now. Finally, the elders arrived and said that with Vali gone, presumed dead, it was my duty to ascend the throne. I told them of my vow to my brother, but they insisted that a prince’s duty was first to his kingdom, then to himself. They also pointed out that Vali had not cared about his people when he committed the heinous sins that had led eventually to his disappearance, so why should his people care for him anymore? Tens of thousands of vanars came, pleading with me to take up the rule of Kiskindha.

  ‘I waited a full year after Vali’s disappearance into the cave. After a year’s absence, a missing vanar is taken for dead according to our laws. It would not be a violation of my oath for me to leave my position at the cave’s mouth anymore. Yet, my heart cried out as I walked down that hillside and returned through the streets of Kiskindha, my ears reverberating with the celebratory shouts of joy of my countrymen, for the entire kingdom had turned out to greet me and show their solidarity for my ascension.’

  ‘It was a great day for all vanarkind,’ said the aged vanar that Lakshman remembered was Prabhava.

  ‘And a great day for Kiskindha,’ added the other silver-backed adviser Plaksa.

  Everyone murmured assent. Lakshman noticed Angad staring at the ground fixedly, as if dreading what came next. He looked at Sugreeva again and was surprised to find the vanar king staring directly at him. Sugreeva nodded, sighing, and went on.

  ‘Without my knowledge, and after I had left the hillside, my advisers and elders of the council had the cave’s mouth sealed up by rolling not just the one boulder, but a landslide’s worth of boulders, too great for any one vanar to ever move singlehandedly. They thought they were doing the right thing; after all, the cave was always kept sealed, but I think they also feared the possibility, however remote, that Vali might return one day.’ He looked at each one of his councillors here, and Lakshman noted how each one looked away, unable to mask their embarrassment. Yes, they had not wanted Vali back, and who could blame them?

  Sugreeva said, ‘Yet their worst fear was realised. For one day, Vali did return. The crafty Mayavi had led him on a merry chase through the caverns, showing himself just long enough to fight and flee.
Sometimes he would ambush Vali and inflict a wound upon him, sometimes Vali would lie in wait for him, and cause hurt to Mayavi. This game went on for nigh on two full years! Yet neither vanar would relent until he had killed his opponent. Finally, Vali succeeded in killing Mayavi, and then came to the cave’s opening. For by now, he was well versed with every turn and every crevice and knew the way out. But of course, he found his way blocked by a small mountain of stones, too great for him to move by himself. So he searched for another way out and finally found a narrow cranny that showed sunlight at the top. After crawling up that passageway, he dug his way out through the crack and emerged into the sunlight again. Over two full years had passed since he had entered the cave, yet he had lost track of time. All he could think was that I, his brother, had broken oath by leaving my post at the cave’s mouth, and had committed treachery and treason by blocking the way out, and seeking to confine him, Vali to a living burial.’

  Sugreeva looked around at his elders, then at his son. Angad’s face was tight with sorrow. Lakshman also felt his throat constrict. He knew what must come next, and his heart weighed heavy in his chest.

  ‘Vali flew into a great rage when he saw me enthroned as king of Kiskindha. He took a weapon from a guard and began to slaughter ministers and advisers and councillors and nobles there and then. Those he could not slay, or who fled in panic, he ordered to be imprisoned and tortured. None dared oppose him openly, for he claimed that I had known all along that he was alive and had wrested the throne unlawfully. Though nobody truly believed him, it could be argued that he was still king since among vanars, a king retains his title until he is dead or slain, or he passes on his crown to an heir of his choosing. So Vali took back his throne. And with it, he took my wife Tara, and he threw me out of the kingdom, sending me into exile for the duration of my natural life.’

  Sugreeva wiped more tears from his eyes and added, ‘He could not kill me himself nor order my death openly, for such a thing is expressly contrary to vanar dharma. But what he did to me was not of any importance, for he was justified in his rage and his revenge. It was what he did to Kiskindha after exiling me that was the most terrible thing of all.’