PRINCE OF DHARMA

by AKB eBOOKS Ashok K. Banker

  He addressed his question to the taller Kshatriya, Nakhu Dev, but it was Janaki Kumar who replied again, speaking for both of them. The slender Kshatriya’s tone was sharp enough to cut glass. ‘Rajkumar, I’ll have you know that the raj-marg to Mithila is the safest in the Arya nations. A virgin could walk naked clad in the finest jewels and arrive at the capital unmolested.’

  Lakshman’s mouth fell open. ‘Do they usually do that? Travel naked clad in fine jewellery down the raj-marg? I had no idea Mithila virgins were that adventurous!’

  Janaki Kumar glared up at Lakshman. His veil was still crusted with drying mud, causing it to droop in some places and cling in others. ‘It was meant to be a figure of speech.’

  ‘Ah, but I hear Mithila virgins have fine figures too! You really know how to provoke a man’s imagination.’ Lakshman looked up at the sky and whistled. ‘I’ll be dreaming all night of naked virgins prancing down the raj-marg!’ He added mischievously: ‘Clad in fine jewellery, of course. By the way, would that be silver or gold?’

  Janaki Kumar turned haughtily to Rama. ‘Is your brother prince always this offensive when referring to women, Rajkumar Rama? Or does he derive some insidious pleasure from insulting Mithila women in particular?’

  Rama smiled apologetically. ‘Lakshman was just making a jest, friend. You mustn’t take offence at his innocent remarks. He’s always been something of a mischief-maker.’

  Lakshman raised his arms. ‘That’s me! Master of mischief and good times!’ He grinned and winked at the two Kshatriyas. ‘Don’t Mithila Kshatriyas tell jokes about their women? Or would you prefer that I joke about Ayodhyan women instead? They look quite splendid too when walking naked down the raj-marg clad in fine—’

  Rama broke in hastily. ‘Lakshman, go see if Guruji is inclined to meet our new friends formally. Quickly, before it’s time for us to perform our evening rituals.’

  Lakshman shrugged good-naturedly and sauntered off upriver towards the brahmarishi.

  Rama turned back to Janaki Kumar. Suddenly, Nakhu Dev emitted a choking sound. People twenty yards away turned to look at him curiously. The enormous Kshatriya coughed apologetically into his fist.

  ‘Forgive me, rajkumar. I just now pictured Rajkumar Lakshman’s description of naked virgins prancing down the rajmarg, and …’ The warrior paused, his face twitching beneath the veil. ‘It is quite funny, you have to admit, Janaki.’

  ‘Nakhu Dev,’ his shorter companion retorted sourly, ‘if you’re going to start getting giddy-headed and join in that chauvinistic jesting, maybe you’d rather join the Vajra Kshatriyas instead of journeying to Mithila with me. Nakhu?’

  He put a peculiar emphasis on the last word, making Rama wonder if that was the taller Kshatriya’s real name or just an alias. And why did the shorter man insist on being called by his full name, Janaki Kumar, even by his travelling companion? They were surely an odd couple!

  He was about to suggest to the Kshatriyas that they at least join them for the evening ritual and some hot supper before setting off when Lakshman returned, followed closely by a Vajra rider.

  It was Sona Chita, the acting lieutenant of the Vajra. He had ridden close to the river to avoid the slanting, slippery slope of the right bank. He reined in as he approached them, saluting smartly.

  ‘Rajkumars,’ he said, his horse’s hoofs splashing as it pranced in the shallow water of the river. ‘Brahmarishi Vishwamitra requests your presence back at the camp to perform the evening rituals. And Captain Bejoo requests you not to wander this far from our sight again.’

  Lakshman snorted. ‘Tell Bejoo-chacha we’re not little boys with runny noses any more. We can take care of ourselves now, as you probably witnessed up on the hills a while ago.’

  Sona Chita grinned. ‘No argument on that account, Rajkumar Lakshman. But the captain takes his responsibility very seriously. These are unfriendly woods and there’s no telling what might assail you.’

  Rama gestured to Lakshman not to retort again, and said to the Vajra Kshatriya, ‘Thank you for the message. We are turning back towards camp.’

  Sona Chita saluted smartly and turned his horse around, splashing water energetically. He raised the reins to give the horse its head then added belatedly:

  ‘And the brahmarishi also said to make sure our new Kshatriya friends join us. He insists that they share our humble hospitality tonight.’

  As the Vajra lieutenant rode away noisily, Rama found himself feeling oddly pleased. The Kshatriyas wouldn’t be able to refuse the brahmarishi’s invitation; to do so would be to insult him grossly. It would give him a chance to spend more time with Janaki Kumar. He didn’t know why, but he found the slender Kshatriya’s company and conversation strangely pleasing. He was looking forward to talking to him about several topics of minor interest.

  Just then he happened to glance at Janaki Kumar. He was surprised at what he saw. The expression in the Kshatriya’s eyes couldn’t have been more sour if he had just bitten into an imli ka butta.

  The two rajkumars and their black-clad companions made their way up the riverbed, bare feet crunching softly on the gravel. None of them noticed the eyes watching them from the shadowy depths. Four pairs of them, all softly glowing like fireflies in the lush darkness. As they went around the curve of the riverbed, four pairs of snouts, three small and one large, pushed their way through the bush they were standing behind.

  One of the bear cubs made a low mewling sound, reaching up to pluck what looked like a clump of blueberries from the bush. It put the clump in its mouth, chewed, then growled and spat out the mouthful, only a few yards behind the sentry, who continued downriver slowly, swinging his pike. The mother bear slapped the cub on its snout, eliciting a babyish mewl.

  The female turned her snout in the direction the two rajkumars had gone and sniffed several times, as if trying to memorise a certain scent.

  Then she opened her jaws slightly and emitted a sound that sounded curiously like human speech, except gruffer.

  ‘Rama,’ the bear said tenderly, the affection and gratitude in her voice unmistakable. ‘Rama.’

  ‘Rama,’ repeated her cubs obediently. ‘Rama.’ All except the smallest one, who was still snuffling over being cuffed by his mother. His sister nudged him.

  ‘Vaba,’ he said sulkily.

  FIVE

  The company was too large to be accommodated at one fire. They had done the next best thing: building a dozen fires in a circular formation. The riverbed at this point was wide, almost thirty yards across, and the fires were perhaps five or six yards apart. The Siddh-ashrama Brahmins had seated themselves in such a manner that everyone faced inwards but slightly to the north. The result was a roughly circular congregation of seated Brahmins all converging towards a point at the top of the circle, not the centre. Brahmarishi Vishwamitra sat on a rock at this focal point, his staff lying behind him.

  On the outer rim of the circle of Brahmins sat the Vajra Kshatriyas, forming a protective perimeter. Captain Bejoo stood almost apart from the whole group, his face still clouded with conflicting emotions, sharpening the blade of his shortsword with a pumice stone. He glanced up sourly as the rajkumars joined the congregation, nodding perfunctorily. He spat a mouthful of blood-red tobacco-stained paan juice every now and then to the side, evoking irritated stares from the nearest Brahmins, who disapproved of tobacco consumption in any form.

  Everybody seemed quite comfortably settled by the time Rama and Lakshman arrived and took their places. Rama scanned the assembled faces quickly but couldn’t see Janaki Kumar and Nakhu Dev right away. The two princes made their way through the ranks of Brahmins, seated cross-legged with their hands on their knees. Several Brahmins were standing by the fires, supervising the cooking. The smells coming from the enormous pots were delicious and Rama could see the younger acolytes waiting eagerly to be fed. Except for a little fruit and water on the journey, nobody had eaten since that morning.

  They found a space reserved for them right up front, immed
iately before the boulder on which the sage was seated. The Kshatriyas were there already. All four of them seated themselves cross-legged and waited for the brahmarishi to begin speaking. Rama found himself seated diagonally opposite Janaki Kumar, and for some reason found his attention drawn to the slender Kshatriya’s face. The mercenary had performed the evening ritual with them, and his piercing eyes caught the firelight in a way that was oddly hypnotic.

  Janaki’s eyes were surprisingly bright, brighter than anyone else’s in the congregation that Rama could see. They had seemed dark and soft earlier in the sunlight, but now they had a way of catching the light and holding it within that was fascinating to see. Like the eyes of predators which caught light at night-time, except that his eyes were neither feline nor feral. They were very human and very striking, filled with a glowing intensity that collected every sight, every observation around, sparing nothing. Rama found himself compelled to glance often in the lad’s direction until the sage began speaking. Janaki seemed not to notice at first, but at one point, when Rama glanced that way suddenly, he found the Kshatriya watching him with the cool, studied gaze of a fisherman watching a dolphin race alongside his boat—neither as a potential catch nor as a threat, simply watching. Janaki raised his gaze to meet Rama’s eyes, their views locked, and it seemed to Rama that a faint flicker of a smile passed over the youth’s face. But it was hard to tell with the veil.

  The brahmarishi began speaking, and Rama’s attention turned to the sage.

  Vishwamitra spoke quietly, yet his voice seemed to carry across the riverbed to even the farthest listener, who was Bejoo. The Vajra captain put down his sword and sharpening stone and listened to the seer.

  ‘I know all of you are eager to partake of some nourishment. This has been a long day and the past days have been difficult ones too. In a few moments, we shall eat together. I know that some of us,’ here the seer’s eyes passed over the two princes of Ayodhya and the black-clad mercenaries and then flicked to where Bejoo sat, ‘have weighty concerns on their mind. All doubts will be pacified, all questions answered. This shall be done after we nourish ourselves. But first an important sandesh to all of you. From this point onwards, our company will divide into two groups.’

  A ripple of surprise met this announcement.

  Vishwamitra went on, ‘My good Brahmins of Siddh-ashrama, you will travel to Mithila directly via the rajmarg. Maharishi Tulsidas will lead you well.’

  He indicated the elderly rishi who had stood up when his name was spoken and now greeted the congregation with a namaskar. He resumed his seat as the guru continued.

  ‘The rajkumars and I will take the Visala road to Mithila. I invite our new Kshatriya friends to accompany us as well.’

  Rama glanced at Janaki Kumar. The lad looked startled by the seer’s announcement, as if unsure of how to respond.

  Fortunately for the young warrior, Captain Bejoo spoke at that moment. ‘Swami, may I enquire as to why the company must split up?’

  Vishwamitra replied, ‘Owing to certain developments too complex to explain here and now, the rajkumars and I must visit Visala before travelling on to Mithila. I do not wish to delay the rest of the company. The good ashramites of Siddhashrama have waited eagerly all year to attend this philosophical festival. Taking this detour would cause them to miss the first day and also the inaugural yagna. Hence the rajkumars and I shall travel separately from this point onwards.’

  The sage added as an afterthought: ‘However, you and your Vajra Kshatriyas may freely choose which group you wish to travel with. After all, you are not under my spiritual guidance and may do as you please.’

  Without waiting for an answer, the sage went on, ‘We shall all meet in Mithila then. I urge all you good Brahmins to make directly for the congregation halls specially provided in the fields adjacent to the royal complex. There you will be well cared for and all your needs met. Those of you who have attended this annual conference will know full well that Maharaja Janak’s love for men of faith and philosophical debate is matched only by his generous and warm hospitality. I am sure we shall all come away from this trip a little wiser and more insightful about matters that are central to our way of life and thought.’

  Vishwamitra raised his head. The sky was a deep dusky blue, and few birds were flying now. The sounds of night insects were growing steadily louder as twilight fell as rapidly as a black scarf descending.

  ‘It is past sunset now. Let us all perform our agnihotra and then take some nourishment prepared by our Brahmins. The Kshatriyas shall be fed at the two cookfires further upriver. This segregation is unavoidable as they consume flesh and our Brahmins do not. After breaking my fast with my good ashramites, I will join the Kshatriyas for a while in order to discuss tomorrow’s journey. I urge all of you to take an early night’s rest and be refreshed before the long journey tomorrow. Swaha.’

  ‘Swaha!’ responded the congregation in one resounding chorus. Everybody began moving eagerly towards the cookfires. There was only one thing Brahmins loved more than prayer and penance, and that was good food.

  ***

  It took Guru Vashishta the better part of the day to complete the ritual spiritual cleansing and make sure that Dasaratha was totally free of all evil influences. Both the healer and the afflicted remained through those many hours locked in a bond of Brahman. The evening shadows were lengthening across the assembly hall floor when Vashishta ceased chanting the smriti mantras—the most secret Vedic knowledge of all—and was finally satisfied that this new crisis was also past.

  Still holding the maharaja on the tip of his finger, the guru lowered Dasaratha gently to the floor. This part of the hall was furnished with large, comfortably stuffed mattresses that Aryas liked to stretch out on while conducting business or pleasure.

  He placed the unconscious king on one such seat. Dasaratha returned to gravity, his bulk indenting the overstuffed mattress. The guru watched him closely for several moments, then finally felt satisfied that the maharaja was breathing normally and out of danger.

  He rose to his feet and strode towards the doors of the hall with an energy that belied his considerable age. A single phrase from his lips parted the towering doors. The palace guards moved aside to let the seer pass.

  He gestured to their leader.

  ‘The maharaja is exhausted and needs rest. Have him taken to his sick-chamber.’

  The guards rushed to do his bidding.

  Vashishta turned to face the sizeable group that awaited him anxiously. First Queen Kausalya was there, but the other two titled queens were conspicuous by their absence. Pradhan Mantri Sumantra, Captain Drishti Kumar and his father Senapati Dheeraj Kumar were present as well, along with Mantri Jabali, Mantri Ashok and the other members of the ministerial cabinet, and several other nobles and officials of the court. The anxiety on all their faces was as plain as a spoken question.

  ‘Council of Ayodhya, pray, enter within the assembly hall. We have important matters to discuss.’

  They followed him in without question. Their wan, anxious faces and small number were a stark contrast to the busy, bustling, clamour that normally filled the vast chamber. Vashishta stood at the foot of the royal dais and turned to face the council of ministers and the First Queen of Kosala.

  A volley of questions erupted, everybody speaking at once, eager to know the meaning behind the sage’s cryptic comments. Only the maharani awaited her chance to speak.

  Vashishta raised a hand, showing them his palm.

  ‘Silence. The maharaja is well. He is tired now and will sleep long and deeply. But when he awakens he will be refreshed and well.’

  A hoarse cheer rose from the assembly. Two or three assistants ran down towards the exit to convey the news to the criers, who would pass it on to the citizenry. The others remained, still looking anxiously at the guru. He resisted the urge to sigh. The exorcism had taken a great deal out of him. But their questions would have to be answered.

  First Queen Kausalya spoke fir
st, asking anxiously, ‘Gurudev? Was there an attack on the maharaja?’

  Vashishta sighed. ‘It vexes me to say aye, maharani. This morning the attempt on his life was physical and brought him to the very brink of mortality. But the later attack was spiritual.’

  ‘Spiritual, maha-dev?’

  Vashishta nodded. ‘Yes, maharani. The courier who arrived this morning was no normal Kshatriya. He was one of Ravana’s own minions.’

  Consternation and dismay met this announcement. Pradhan Mantri Sumantra’s face creased into a mask of anger.

  The guru held up his hand. ‘But do not fear. The danger is past. Twice today the Lord of Lanka has attempted to take our liege’s life. Twice he has been foiled. The devas watch over Maharaja Dasaratha. The man named Bheriya was in truth a twice-lifer. He was ambushed and killed last night on the road to Ayodhya. The king of the asuras infused the empty vessel of his body with the aatma of another long-dead man. This wretched being was sent here by the Lord of Lanka to deliver a false message.’

  The faces of the ministers and the maharani were chalk-white with shock.

  The sage turned to the First Queen and said gently, ‘Maharani, the king has need of your healing touch. I request you, attend him in his sick-chamber and let me know the minute he awakens.’

  Kausalya nodded and withdrew without any argument. The First Queen had sat on the sunwood throne long enough to know that even a maharani could not deal with every problem at once. This was a matter for the guru and the royal council. She also understood from the subtle change of tone in the guru’s voice that he wished her to stay close to the maharaja. An enemy who could make two attempts on the king of Ayodhya’s life was capable of making another. She exited the hall with the same quiet grace and dignity with which she always conducted herself.

  After she was gone, the guru had the doors closed again. For the third time that day, they were barred shut.