PRINCE OF DHARMA

by AKB eBOOKS Ashok K. Banker

  And, like all else in Lanka, there was something about the architecture that defied close scrutiny or accurate assessment. Jatayu had heard the muttered rumour that the interiors of the Fortress of Lanka changed each night, its stones reshaping themselves to the Lord of Lanka’s wishes, even its chambers, corridors, hallways, alcoves, pillars and beams shifting and reknitting themselves into new patterns like a vast architectural kaleidoscope shaken by a monstrous child. Nobody, not even the oldest residents of Lanka—and there were few enough of those— knew for certain just how or when it happened. But there was no question that it did change. Jatayu itself found the Fortress a little different each time it returned. It was unsettling to say the least.

  It had even heard tell that asuras who dared to brood or plot against their lord simply vanished in the depths of night, their entire chambers replaced by spiralling stairwells that led nowhere, or enormous bulkhead walls, as if the beasts had never existed at all. Such individuals were never spoken of again, by tacit unanimity. It made for a cautious and remarkably loyal populace: who would dare speak against the lord of a fortress whose very stones obeyed his every command - perhaps even to the point of eavesdropping on his minions?

  And of all the chambers in the Fortress, the Hall was the most intimidating.

  Even now, as Jatayu scanned the vast chamber for the source of the strangely unsettling sound, the Hall seemed to defy its attempt to plumb its depths. It stretched out before the vulture-king in an apparently unending succession of pillared arches that extended as far as its keen eyes could discern. A thousand yards? Two thousand? There was no telling for sure, with the far end shrouded in semi-darkness, illuminated only by an occasional flickering torch.

  The sound came again, this time from right beside Jatayu. The vulture-king started, its wings starting to flap instinctively, its yard-long talons scrabbling noisily for purchase on the slippery floor that seemed to have not a single level flagstone.

  Its anxiety resulted in more noise than the creature that had materialised beside it.

  Jatayu screeched in alarm, rearing up to defend itself against the Arya mortal who had appeared out of thin air. The man was clad in the rich garb of a royal house. Gold bracelets adorned his muscular forearms and clasped his taut biceps. Necklaces of solid gold inlaid with precious stones encased his neck. The sound that had attracted Jatayu’s attention had come from the man’s weighty jewellery. His handsome head was adorned by a crown that glittered with fine diamonds, each worth a maharaja’s ransom. His fair skin, muscular form, striking good looks and poised stance marked him out for nobility, certainly a prince from a great house, perhaps even a maharaja.

  Jatayu raised its talons, prepared to strike out at the enemy. Its leathery wings had unfurled to almost half their length, looming above the puny two-yard-tall human, dwarfing him. One slash of those black talons and the man’s head would lie severed from its body on the floor of the Hall.

  Before Jatayu could strike, the man raised a hand, gold bracelets jangling again, and smiled beatifically.

  ‘You might not want to raise arms against your lord, Jatayu.’

  The voice was that of Ravana, Lord of Lanka.

  Jatayu stared, its yellow eyes glaring as fiercely as large bright lamps in the murky dimness of the Hall. Its talons, barely a yard above the human’s head, froze. There was no mistaking that voice: the gravelly, grinding sound of the king of asuras speaking was horrible to hear the first time, and once heard, it was never forgotten.

  The man smiled sweetly, his handsome face as cheerful as an Arya prince at a royal feast. ‘Does my appearance surprise you?’

  Jatayu lowered its talons slowly, trying to contain the sudden urge to shriek and fly screaming up to the rafters. It sheathed its talons, withdrawing them to a third of their formidable length, and its wings shuddered shut with a sound like a canvas tent collapsing. It slumped lower, reducing its height until its eyes were below the level of the human who spoke with Ravana’s voice.

  ‘My lord, I did not recognise you in that garb.’

  The man raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Garb? This is more than a garb surely? It’s a human body. A quite real and functional one, I assure you. Not the work of maya.’

  Jatayu blinked. It could understand maya, the subtle sorcerous art of illusion that asuras had developed over the millennia to aid them in their unending war against the devas and the mortals. It had been maya that had changed Kala-Nemi’s appearance to match that of the seer-mage Vishwamitra when the uncle of Ravana had carried out his intrusion into Ayodhya. But maya was just what the name suggested: illusion. He had never heard of a rakshasa being able to assume a living human body.

  The man laughed. ‘You’re befuddled, my feathered friend. Unable to grasp the concept. It’s simple enough really. Remind me to tell you about it sometime. Right now, though, we have work to do. I have a mission for you, bird-master.’

  Jatayu tried to bow its head. It was difficult, with its body already scrunched down this low. ‘Lanka-naresh,’ it said in as respectful a voice as it could muster, ‘I have yet to report to you on the result of my last mission. I have returned from Ayodhya with news of great import.’

  The man waved dismissively. ‘I already know what transpired on your mission, Jatayu. Let’s move on, shall we? Time is short and I have many other urgent matters to attend to.’ The handsome face creased in another winning smile. ‘Many more matters than I have heads, you might say!’

  Jatayu didn’t know how to laugh. That emotional expression was not a part of its physiological make-up. It screeched as softly as it could manage, trying to emulate the peculiar sound mortals made when indulging in this inane expression of pleasure.

  The mortal who spoke with Ravana’s voice grimaced, raising a gold-bedecked hand to shield his delicate human ears from the high-pitched sound. ‘Ah, you need to consider taking voice modulation lessons from the gandhar-vas! But now, let’s get to the point, shall we?’

  ‘But master, I have flown a long way to bring you this news.’

  ‘And you will fly a long way to carry out the next mission. Pay heed now. I have places to go and cities to ravage, bald-headed one.’

  ‘But master, my news—’

  The change was astonishing. One moment the Arya human’s demeanour was all smiles and cheerful patience; the next it was a raging mask of fury.

  ‘SILENCE! YOU DARE TO QUESTION THE LORD OF LANKA? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU WRETCHED CARRION-EATER?’

  If Jatayu’s high-pitched attempt at laughter had been offensive to the human’s ears, then the glass-grinding, mirror-shattering timbre of the mortal’s voice was equally painful to the manvulture’s ears. It reared back several steps, sheathed talons skittering helplessly on the slippery floor, cringing at the low, booming tones of the asura king’s voice, as well as at Ravana’s anger.

  ELEVEN

  The echoes of the Lord of Lanka’s shouted words reverberated down the enormous chamber, travelling until they seemed to reach the ends of the island fortress. The chittering, clicking, grunting, hissing, flapping and other bestial sounds of asuras scattered throughout the Hall ceased momentarily as every creature in Lanka shivered in anticipation of the demon king’s temper.

  With a visible effort, the human composed his face into an unconvincing simile of a smile. ‘Let’s have no more of that, shall we? I have a very important function to attend and I don’t wish to arrive in a bad mood. After all,’ he added, visibly trying to regain the cheerful demeanour he had presented before his outburst, ‘it wouldn’t do for a prince to arrive at a swayamvara in a bad temper!’

  Jatayu cringed and grovelled as best as its anatomy permitted. The stones of the Hall’s floor stank of old ichor and other vital fluids from a dozen different asura species. ‘Forgive my impudence, Lanka-naresh. I meant you no disrespect.’

  The man waved the apology away self-deprecatingly. ‘Don’t bother. You were just eager to do your job, that’s all. Just remember, Jatayu,
that I oversee not merely some military campaign over here. I am orchestrating the invasion of all of the earth! Sometimes an individual shred of news, important as it may seem to the soldier who has spent so much effort in procuring it, becomes insignificant when the larger picture changes. Since I dispatched you to Ayodhya to report on Kala-Nemi and Supanakha’s intrusion, much has changed. The very fact that the intrusion itself failed made your mission redundant. I’ve long since moved on to other, more important considerations. As for your news itself, well, I have excellent sources in Ayodhya that provide me with all I need to know. There’s nothing you can tell me that I have not heard and acted on several days ago.’

  That’s because you made me wait several days for an audience. And if my news was so unimportant, why didn’t you just tell me so earlier instead of keeping me waiting like a lackey in this horrible cold and damp hall for all this time? These thoughts flashed across Jatayu’s mind silently, but it saw a flicker of irritation cross the demon-lord’s human features and forced itself to say aloud quickly, ‘Forgive me, great lord. I await your next command.’

  Ravana looked at the giant man-vulture for a moment. Despite the ludicruous difference in size, it was the relatively puny-seeming mortal who exuded danger and power. Jatayu kept its beak dipped and its eyes cast downwards. It was more difficult to keep its thoughts blank and devoid of the frustration and resentment it felt, but it made an effort.

  Finally, the king of asuras spoke again, quietly this time. ‘Take your flock to Mithila. They must be in position to attack in three days’ time. Do not commence the attack until I personally give you the order. Until then, make sure none of your flock is seen by any mortal. Naturally, they should not be spotted while travelling there either.’

  Jatayu shifted uncomfortably from one clawed foot to the other. ‘My lord, I shall do as you say. But it will prove difficult to avoid being seen in the course of the journey. It is a long way to Mithila and there are many ashrams and rakshak outposts that will spot us and send warning of our approach.’

  Ravana sighed. ‘Did you think I would forget that? The outposts are taken care of. There will be no warnings given. As for ashrams and gurukuls, fly high, stay above the clouds. And on the day of the attack, there will be ample cloud cover. I shall see to that.’

  That means I leave today. What about rest and food? What does he take me for? One of his dispensable rakshasa minions? Jatayu struggled to compose itself before replying.

  ‘Very well, my lord. In that case, I suggest that I remain at a high vantage until such time as you call upon us to attack.’

  ‘That would be appropriate,’ Ravana agreed, looking suddenly distracted. ‘One more thing. When you attack, I wish your flock to direct itself to certain key targets.’

  ‘Key targets, my lord?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ravana went on. ‘You will focus your attack primarily on Brahmins.’

  ‘Brahmins?’ Jatayu blinked in surprise.

  ‘You heard me the first time,’ Ravana snapped. ‘The Kshatriyas will be on the walls, defending the city. But the Brahmins will mostly be within the city enclave, protected for the most part from our ground assault by all those stupid walls the Aryas love to build. Eventually, we’ll ram through and get them all. But I wish to remove as many of the cursed devaworshippers as possible early in the battle. And walls will be no protection for them against an assault from the skies.’

  Ravana gestured with a raised finger before continuing.’So when I give the word, I want you and every last one of your flock to swoop down like hawks on cobras, killing as many Brahmins, seers, rishis, maharishis, sadhus, pundits and their ilk as you can manage in one mass attack. It should be as quick and unexpected as a horde of eagles falling on a nest of newborn serpents. Within moments, every last Brahmin in Mithila should lie dead, savagely shredded by your beautiful talons and razor beaks!’

  His eyes gleamed, filled with the epic vision of slaughter. ‘The Aryas will never know what hit them. Without their seers and priests, they will still be able to fight physically. But spiritually, mentally, they will be crippled beyond repair.’

  He laughed, gesturing. ‘Because every Brahmin in the kingdom of Videha, as well as the highest-ranked Brahmin representatives from the other seven Arya kingdoms, will be present there, like a field full of fatted calves awaiting slaughter!’

  Jatayu resisted the urge to screech in response. ‘Master, it is an ingenious plan. After we are done with the destruction of the Brahmins of Mithila, what would you have us do next?’

  Ravana blinked rapidly, as if he had forgotten for a moment that he was addressing someone. He focused his blue-grey mortal eyes on the vulture-king.

  ‘After Mithila?’ He chuckled sardonically. ‘After Mithila, then Ayodhya. And after that, nothing will stand in our way. But first accomplish this much and show me, bird-king! Don’t underestimate mortals, like so many asuras have done before. They are weak of flesh and short of life but their other qualities more than compensate for those shortcomings.’

  Ravana’s eyes glimmered darkly. ‘If you do this for me successfully, if you can show me the ravaged, worm-eaten corpse of every last Brahmin in Mithila city, then I will give you an opportunity for advancement such as you have never dreamed of before.’

  The disguised demon-king chuckled again, seductively. ‘What am I saying? Of course you would have dreamed of it. But I can put it within your grasp at last. Do you know what I speak of, vulture-lord? I mean to make you the new king of your kind!’

  Jatayu frowned. What new insult was this? It was already king of its kind.

  Ravana smiled, his mortal face cheerful and handsome again. ‘Not just king of the vultures and foragers, Jatayu. I mean king of all birds. I will place you above even the lord of birdkind himself, the Maharaja of Pakshis!’

  Jatayu peered disbelievingly. Could the Lord of Lanka mean what it thought he did?

  Ravana nodded. ‘That’s right, Jatayu. Do this for me and your path to ascension will be clear of all hurdles. And by the end of my campaign, when the Arya nations lie smashed and bleeding across the land, I will crown you king of Pakshis. You will replace Garuda himself and rule over every last winged being in the three worlds for all eternity!’

  Jatayu had nothing to offer in response to that astonishing beak-bending statement. Not even the tiniest of screeches. It was struck speechless and immobile.

  It was still searching for words to express its inexpressible response to that amazing promise when the Lord of Lanka raised his hand. ‘Enough talk. I will leave you now, my feathered senapati. When we meet next, we shall both have mortal blood on our hands.’

  Ravana flashed a brilliant smile. ‘And on our beaks as well! But now, you will excuse me. I have a marriage to attend and little time to waste.’

  ‘A marriage?’ Jatayu heard itself say stupidly. It was still dazed at the prospect of being king of all birdkind.

  ‘Yes. Well, first a swayamvar, of course. But they are generally followed by a marriage, as even you, my unmoral friend, probably know.’

  Jatayu couldn’t understand what attending a marriage had to do with waging a war. So it asked before it could stop itself: ‘Whose marriage, sire?’

  Ravana flashed another brilliant smile. This time, it was so dazzling, the vulture-king was actually blinded for a moment. Then Jatayu realised that the brilliance came from the asura lord’s use of Brahman magic, not the whiteness of his teeth. Ravana was transporting himself instantaneously to another location, using the flow of Brahman.

  An instant before the Lord of Lanka winked out of sight, he spoke one last word, answering Jatayu’s question.

  ‘Mine,’ Ravana said.

  TWELVE

  Rama had a hundred questions, a hundred things he wished to say to Vishwamitra. About the unmasking of the rajkumari Sita, about the things she had overheard the bandit leader saying in the hills, about the asura invasion that was coming. But moments after announcing that Mithila, not Ayodhya, was to be the
first target of the invaders, the seer had abruptly ended the dialogue and told them all to prepare to leave. Bejoo was already giving Sona Chita last-minute instructions about the Vajra, and Lakshman and Rama had begun strapping on their rigs, which they had taken off for the evening ritual and meal.

  Nearby, Sita and Nakhudi, their faces bare now that they had no reason to mask themselves, were using the brief respite to have a few words privately. Rama found himself unable to keep his eyes off the rajkumari. He was still trying to adjust to the realisation that Janaki Kumar was a woman. Lakshman, on the other hand, seemed mostly embarrassed by the unmasking and studiously avoided both women. Even when Rama tried to catch his brother’s eye, Lakshman grinned sheepishly and looked away.

  Brahmarishi Vishwamitra walked down to the riverside, his robes flapping in the sudden chill wind from the north that was growing steadily in intensity and coldness. Just a little while earlier, the weather had seemed calm, almost balmy. Now, as if churned up by the drama on the riverbank, it seemed to be confused and agitated. The wind blowing in from the north had a wet, icy edge to it that could mean either hail or rain, or maybe even both.

  Rama found himself thinking that if he found the wind so cold, surely Sita must find it even more uncomfortable. She had no maha-mantras to shield her from the vagaries of nature. He mentally chided himself for thinking such thoughts. What did he think he could do? Offer her the maha-mantras the way you might offer a lady a cloak?

  Lakshman nudged him. When Rama glanced at him, he found his brother watching him with a strange expression. For once, he seemed to have no smart witticism to offer. He looked pointedly at Sita and then back at Rama in a manner that was a comment in itself. Rama raised an eyebrow in warning. Lakshman nodded and gestured at the riverbank, at the brahmarishi.