Raavan- Enemy of Aryavarta

by Amish Tripathi

  ‘Who’s next on the list?’ asked Raavan, irritated that he had come all the way to Gokarna to meet someone who was evidently unfit for the job.

  Mareech didn’t answer. He turned to the assassin and nodded.

  The lithe body moved with lightning speed, reaching behind Akampana in a flash. Before the dandy trader could even react, a finger had jabbed him hard and precisely on a pressure point at the back of his neck. Instantly, Akampana was paralysed from the neck down. The attacker grabbed him by the shoulders and gently let him slide down to the ground.

  Akampana was able to move his head, just about. His eyes swivelled left and right in panic. ‘I can’t feel anything! I can’t feel anything! Help me! Oh Lord Indra!’ He called out to Raavan. ‘Iraiva! Iraiva! Please help!’

  But his ‘true lord’ was laughing. Positively surprised by what he had seen. He turned to his brother. ‘This chap isn’t bad, Kumbha!’

  Kumbhakarna wasn’t amused, however. He said to Mareech, who was laughing along with Raavan, ‘Uncle, tell him to let Akampanaji go at once. This is not right. He is one of us.’

  Akampana was still jabbering in terror. ‘Lord Raavan! Iraiva! Don’t kill me! Please! I haven’t done anything!’

  Raavan controlled his mirth and asked Mareech, ‘Uncle, this is reversible, right?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ The cause of all the anxiety answered Raavan directly. ‘I can release the hold. But, if I have to, I can also kill him peacefully while he is still paralysed.’

  Hearing this, Akampana moaned again in panic, ‘Iraiva! Help!’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Akampana!’ said Raavan, before turning to the assassin with keen interest. ‘So does the victim feel anything?’

  ‘Not when I work this particular pressure point. There are others that will leave him paralysed but feeling the pain.’

  Raavan didn’t conceal the fact that he was impressed. ‘What is this man’s name, Uncle?’

  ‘His very name means death,’ said Mareech. ‘Mara.’

  Raavan turned back to the young man. ‘All right, Mara. You are hired.’

  ‘Iraiva!’ screamed Akampana. ‘Release me!’

  Raavan looked at Akampana and then at Mara. ‘Can you release his body but paralyse his tongue?’

  Everyone burst out laughing. Even Akampana smiled weakly.

  Kumbhakarna was still not amused. The two extra arms on top of his shoulders were stiff. He turned to his elder brother, disapproval writ large on his face. ‘Dada…’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Raavan said.

  He gestured to Mara. ‘Release him.’

  Chapter 21

  ‘Not bad,’ said Vishwamitra, clearly impressed. ‘Not bad at all.’

  Vishwamitra and Arishtanemi were in Agastyakootam, the hidden capital of the Malayaputras. It had been a year since the Battle of Karachapa.

  ‘Yes, Raavan truly is turning out to be the perfect villain,’ said Arishtanemi. ‘There is no person more hated in the Sapt Sindhu than him. Not only did he defeat the empire comprehensively, he has imposed such an extortionate treaty on them that they will soon go from being the wealthiest land in the world to among the poorest.’

  ‘When I heard of the conditions he had proposed, I assumed Raavan was asking for an outrageous cut so that when he finally settled for less, his magnanimity would be lauded. Clearly, that is not what he had in mind. He is actually ramming the terms of the treaty down their throats. Ayodhya has never been so weak. Which means that finally, that… that… spineless abomination of a man has been shown his place.’ Vishwamitra couldn’t bring himself to speak the name he despised above all.

  Arishtanemi knew his guru was referring to Vashishtha, the raj guru, the royal sage of the Ayodhya court and chief adviser of the royal family. As always, the mere thought of Vashishtha was enough to agitate Vishwamitra.

  Arishtanemi smoothly changed the subject. ‘Yes, Ayodhya is weaker now than it has ever been. And the way Raavan forced Kubaer’s hand was masterly, for the chief-trader himself would never have pushed the treaty and the war reparations to this extent. He may be greedy, but he is also a coward. And let’s not forget, the assassination of Meghdoot was a deft touch, impeccably timed.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ asked Vishwamitra, forgetting about Vashishtha for the moment. ‘Because I have heard conflicting reports. There are enough people who believe that his death was caused by drowning—accidental drowning.’

  ‘I am sure, Guruji. He didn’t drown. He was drowned.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘It was beautifully planned. Everyone knew that Meghdoot was rehearsing for his role as the doomed poet Kalidas, in his favourite play, Jalsandesh. And we all know how that famous lake scene played out.’

  ‘But I heard a wine glass and a decanter were found next to the pool where he drowned.’

  ‘Also a part of the setup. Meghdoot was a colourful character who liked his wine and women, so it made sense to place a glass of wine there. A red herring, if there ever was one. Besides, there was no sign of injury on Meghdoot. No signs of any struggle. The post-mortem showed there was water in his lungs. He died by drowning. Everything fits too well to be true, Guruji. There is no reason for anyone to suspect anything.’

  ‘So, you think it was too perfect?’

  ‘Exactly. Real life is messy. Nothing is ever perfect, but this death was. That’s what got me suspicious, and I decided to investigate.’

  ‘So, who is the person behind this?’

  ‘Someone called Mara. That’s obviously not his real name. Which mother would name her child “death”? I don’t know anything about his background yet, but wherever he came from, he is a genius. I suspect he is young and still honing his craft. There are things he needs to work on.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, for one, he is not secretive enough. He has shown his face to too many people. He is good, but he can be trained to improve.’

  ‘Is that what you intend to do?’

  ‘I do believe Mara could be a useful asset for us, Guruji.’

  ‘I’ll leave that to you. Do what you have to. I am more interested in what Raavan is going to do next. When do you think he will take Kubaer out?’

  ‘I don’t think he will, for now. With Meghdoot gone, he controls both the revenue department and the military directly—the first Lankan minister to do so. He has, in fact, already started excluding Kubaer from sabhas, saying that the voice of the chief-trader is too pure to be heard in these petty administration meetings. He is, for all practical purposes, already the king of Lanka. There is no need for him to upset the balance by overthrowing Kubaer.’

  ‘Hmm… clever move. But I am a bit sceptical about the wisdom of enforcing such ridiculous terms on the Sapt Sindhu. He will end up killing the golden goose that feeds him.’

  ‘Is that relevant, Guruji? We have him exactly where we need him. He is setting himself up to be the perfect villain. All of the Sapt Sindhu will grow to dread him. We should start searching for a Vishnu now.’

  ‘Of course. But we can’t lose sight of Raavan’s motives either. We need to know what’s going on in his mind so that we can control him better. It is important to understand exactly what is pushing him to take this position on Ayodhya. I don’t think it’s just his lust for money and power. He seems to be driven by a sort of unbridled, almost unhinged rage. Because his actions defy all logic—of business and politics.’

  ‘I’ll find out, Guruji.’

  ‘Also, let’s start charging him more for the cave material and the medicines.’

  Arishtanemi chuckled. ‘Yes, Guruji. I was thinking that too. We’ll certainly put the money to better use than he will.’

  Raavan flung open the door to the ship’s cabin and walked briskly in, his face sweaty and flushed.

  Kumbhakarna, looking similarly exhausted, followed his brother. There were two Lankan soldiers with him. As he entered the cabin, he stopped the soldiers outside. ‘Keep your swords drawn and stay vigilant. Don�
��t allow anyone else in.’

  Raavan had already poured two goblets of wine for them. He handed one to his younger brother.

  ‘Thanks, Dada,’ said Kumbhakarna, regarding the bloodstained goblet for a moment before draining the wine in one gulp. There was nothing like good wine after the exertions of a battle.

  Raavan downed his glass just as efficiently. He was still trying to catch his breath.

  It had been two years since the Battle of Karachapa. With the Sapt Sindhu having capitulated completely, money was pouring into Lanka at a furious pace. Raavan was now the prime minister of the island kingdom and the general of the Lankan army, making him the most powerful man in the land. Kubaer had been reduced to a ruler in name only.

  Mareech and Akampana ran the twenty-nine-year-old Raavan’s business empire under Kumbhakarna’s able supervision. Mareech had been tasked with expanding the business as far and wide as possible and dominating global trade. He had already appointed ‘approved key traders’ in every kingdom of the Sapt Sindhu. All trade with the empire was done only through these appointees. This was a strategic move—it gave the Lankans greater control over their trade with the Sapt Sindhu, and also allowed them to build loyal allies in each kingdom.

  Akampana’s task was to ensure that the accounting and financing of this vast enterprise—the biggest business corporation in history—was clean, with no scope for either employees or associates to drain money out through corruption.

  All their plans had been executed smoothly so far. Raavan was now wealthier than Kubaer and had begun to focus more on enjoying his immense wealth. The richest man in the world wanted his lifestyle to reflect his newfound status—the finest wine and food, the most beautiful women, music and dance—only the best of everything would do for Raavan. He indulged in all that satiated his desire, his kaama.

  The palaces situated on the lower levels of Lion’s Rock had been taken over soon after the previous prime minister’s unfortunate death. Raavan had evicted Meghdoot’s family and Kubaer’s junior wives and concubines, merging their palaces into a sweeping, opulent estate over which he presided with all the pomp of a ruler.

  He had also begun to travel for pleasure—something he had rarely done before—accompanied by Kumbhakarna and a few of his chosen concubines. It was as they were sailing peacefully over calm seas towards the Arabian Peninsula that one of the ship’s officers had burst into Raavan’s cabin, with the news that a pirate vessel had been spotted speeding towards them. The brothers had just returned to the cabin after taking care of the unwanted diversion.

  ‘Fools!’ said Raavan. ‘Attacking us! What were they thinking?’

  Kumbhakarna rose from his chair, wine glass in hand, took Raavan’s from him and walked over to the table. He put them down before cleaning his bloodied hands with a towel. Then he wiped the goblets clean. When he was done, he poured out some more wine and walked back to his brother, bearing the two goblets and the piece of cloth. ‘Here, Dada. Use this to wipe your hands. Lord Indra alone knows whose blood that is.’

  Raavan looked down at his bloodied hands. His clothes were stained red too. But not one speck of blood on his expensive clothes or his body was his own. There was not a cut on him. He sniffed the blood on his hand before sticking out his tongue and licking it.

  ‘Yuck!’ Kumbhakarna made a face.

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Raavan, thoughtfully. ‘It’s an interesting taste.’

  Kumbhakarna, still looking nauseated, held the goblet away from Raavan. ‘You need to clean your mouth first.’

  ‘I’ll just wash it down,’ Raavan said, as he took the goblet from Kumbhakarna and gulped down the wine. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing some more blood on his face. ‘So, what were we talking about? Before those bonehead pirates attacked?’

  Kumbhakarna shook his head, trying not to think about what he had just witnessed. ‘We were talking about meeting Vibhishan and Shurpanakha. You promised maa you would, remember?’

  After Vishrava and his second wife, Crataeis, had passed away, Kaikesi had decided to adopt their children, Vibhishan and Shurpanakha. The two children, accompanied by some others from the ashram of the great sage Vishrava, had found their way to their wealthy half-brother Raavan’s abode in Lanka, seeking refuge. They had not anticipated the reception they would get there. Raavan, still angry with his father, had thrown his half-siblings out of his home and refused to shelter them. But Kaikesi had stood up to her son and insisted on bringing them back, saying she had responsibilities towards them.

  Raavan did not approve of his mother’s act of apparent altruism. ‘Kumbha, you know what maa is really like. Her compassion is all fake. She’s only taken them in to show the world how virtuous she is.’

  ‘Dada, what’s wrong with you? How can you say that about maa?’

  ‘I haven’t said anything untrue. Tell me, what has she done to deserve any of this? What sacrifices has she made for our happiness? I am the one who is working hard and paying for her comfortable life in that magnificent mansion. I am the one who pays for all the charity that she does—and publicises. And I am the one who is paying for those useless half-siblings of ours whom she has decided to adopt and shower with attention. She just struts around exclaiming, “Oh, look! Look, how great I am.”’ Raavan opened his eyes wide and mimicked his mother’s slightly high-pitched voice. ‘She’s a fraud. Let her try to build her own life by herself. Then she can prance around the world teaching lessons in morality, for all I care. I am tired of her virtue signalling.’

  ‘Dada, I wish you wouldn’t be so harsh on her. Besides, what do Vibhishan and Shurpanakha have to do with any of this? They are little children.’

  The outgrowths on Kumbhakarna’s shoulders were stiff and straight, a clear sign that he was upset.

  Raavan sighed. ‘You are too genuinely kind for your own good, Kumbha.’

  Kumbhakarna remained silent.

  Raavan threw his arms up in surrender. ‘All right, all right! I’ll meet them when I get back to Sigiriya.’

  Kumbhakarna smiled. ‘That’s my boy.’

  ‘Excuse me!’ said Raavan, straightening up. ‘What do you mean “boy”? Don’t forget I am your elder brother.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Kumbhakarna, laughing.

  Raavan smiled at him. ‘I let you get away with too much.’

  ‘That’s because you can’t manage without me.’

  ‘Well, my life manager, tell me, what have you done about Kubaer?’

  ‘We’ve discussed this already, Dada. There’s no need to try and remove him. He’s practically your prisoner in any case. He can’t step out of his upper citadel without passing through our lower terraces. His bodyguards are our men. We control his life.’

  ‘But what is the point of having him around at all?’

  ‘Listen to me, Dada. Kubaer’s idea of doing away with taxes within Lanka was brilliant. We don’t need tax revenues in any case, with the flood of money coming in from the Sapt Sindhu. And by proclaiming that all citizens are exempt from paying any taxes at all, he has bought the loyalty of his subjects for life.’

  Raavan shook his hand. ‘No. It’s been too long. I want to be known as the king of Lanka.’

  ‘Sounds to me like you already have a plan.’

  ‘Obviously. That’s why I am talking to you.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘I’ll tell you… but only after we’re finished with these guys.’ Raavan drained his glass and threw it away, then he got up and strode briskly to the door.

  Kumbhakarna followed in his brother’s footsteps.

  They were on the main deck of the ship in no time. It was a pleasure boat, so the deck was massive and grand. At the moment though, it resembled a battleground. The bodies of the pirates lay all over. Not one Lankan had been killed, though a few had suffered minor injuries. Next to the large ship, bobbing in the sea, was the much smaller pirate craft, attached to Raavan’s vessel with grappling hooks. The pirates had
assumed their target carried some rich, chicken-hearted businessman whose crew could be easily overpowered. They had chased down Raavan’s ship and boarded it, screaming fierce battle cries. Regrettably for the pirates, that had been the extent of their fierceness. They had come face to face with soldiers who were amongst the finest warriors in the Indian Ocean. Most of the pirates were dead within the first few minutes of battle. The rest, many of them grievously injured, had been lined up at the far end of the deck, shackled and on their knees.

  The brothers walked up to the prisoners, their loyal Lankan soldiers close behind them. They stopped in front of a stocky young man who was on his knees, blood flowing from a deep cut on his forehead.

  ‘So, Dada, what do you want to do with these morons? Should we find out who they work for? Maybe we can sell them as slaves somewhere in the Mediterranean?’

  By way of answer, Raavan simply flexed his shoulders, then drew his sword and in one swift, mighty blow, beheaded the man kneeling in front of him.

  Kumbhakarna shrugged. ‘Or we could do that.’

  The Lankans followed the example of their lord and commander. They drew their swords and put every one of the pirates out of their misery.

  Chapter 22

  Three years had passed since the Battle of Karachapa. Raavan was now the sole ruler of Lanka, having got rid of Kubaer. It had been surprisingly easy.

  The main contact for trade in Ayodhya for the Lankans was a woman called Manthara. Over the years, Kubaer had come to trust her implicitly. However, a message from Raavan asking her to choose between higher commissions for compliance on the one hand, and severe punishment in case of disobedience on the other, had made the pragmatic Manthara switch sides in a hurry. On Raavan’s instructions, she had put the idea in Kubaer’s head that Raavan had hired an assassin to get rid of him. This was not the truth, but Kubaer believed it. To nudge him further towards the edge, Manthara let him know that his former prime minister, Meghdoot, had not died by accidental drowning but had, in fact, been assassinated on Raavan’s orders. This, of course, was the truth.