Today was such a magical night. I was filled with the urge to caress the sinuous body of the Veena. As a lover takes his beloved, I took the Veena and gently placed her in my lap. Then I forgot the war; I forgot Rama and his monkey-men; I forgot the dead and the living and myself. I became a feather floating in the wind, carefree, rootless, purposeless and weightless. I was bound neither to the earth nor the sky. I was just me, barely aware of the touch of my beloved wife, Mandodari, as she came and sat near me, with her lovely face resting on my shoulder. I was barely aware of the party going on in the garden beneath, celebrating the temporary victory of the Asuras. As my fingers caressed the strings, I was only aware that I existed in the celestial sound that flew from them. That was more than enough for me.
“Where is my son, your Highness?” The spell broke and I came back to the ugly world of wars and death. I woke with anger flaring in my eyes. From the shadows of the curtains, the ugly and stooped figure of Bhadra emerged. ‘How dare this beggar enter my private chambers? Who allowed him in?’ Before I could react, he had fallen at my feet and grasped my legs with both his hands. I stood still, not knowing what to do. Then I slowly raised him up. The stench of sweat and stale liquor hit my nose. I gasped involuntarily. Immediately, Bhadra moved away and shrank like a frightened mouse.
“It is alright,” I said, even though my voice did not carry any conviction.
“I am sorry for touching and polluting you.” His voice cracked while his eyes looked down.
Mandodari moved quickly towards the old man and took his hands. He tried to wriggle away. With more compassion than I could ever muster, she asked, “Bhadra, what happened?”
In answer, he broke into sobs. I was assaulted with various emotions – anger that this fellow had broken into one of the most magical moments of my life; ashamed that he had awakened dormant thoughts of impurity, that had lain hidden in the dark alleys of my mind; sorry that I did not treat the beggar in a kinder way; happy that my queen at least remained compassionate enough to understand the distress of this poor man. With my mind in shambles, I vaguely heard that Bhadra had been searching for his adopted son, Athikaya. In some corner of my mind, I knew Athikaya was of my blood, and that I had deliberately forgotten it. I had pushed such irritatiadra had bng memories into the dark attics of my mind. I felt that this old beggar was invading my private and dirty attic, where I had kept my dark secrets hidden from the world.
My son burst into the room. I could smell his inebriated condition. He smelt of wine, women, and arrogance. Like his shadow, a dark figure entered the room. Seeing him, Bhadra rushed to him. Athikaya pushed the old man rudely away. Bhadra staggered and fell. My face burnt with anger and shame. The scoundrel, black and ugly Athikaya leaned on my son Meghanada like an equal. And they were creating a ruckus in the Emperor’s private chamber.
“Father, we thrashed those
bastards! You should have seen how I set a dhothi on fire. Hoooooo. . . and Athikaya’s arrow struck Lakshmana’s back. . .ha ha. . . I do not know how he will sit. . .” And Athikaya joined in the laughter and slapped the Prince hard on his back.
“Meghanada. . .” I shouted at the top of my voice. “This is no language to use before your parents.”
“Athikaya. . . say shorry to papa.” I stepped forward and slapped him hard across his face. He was stunned for a moment, then, without saying a word, he went out, his head hung in shame. Athikaya followed.
Bhadra threw himself forward and tried to block their path. “Athikaya, do not go. Please come with me. We’ll go away. We’ll go to the mainland. Please come with us.”
“Get out of my way, you old rascal.” Athikaya pushed Bhadra with a force that made the old man stagger and fall. “May you rot in hell!” Cursing, Athikaya followed Meghanada into the darkness.
Mandodari said something to me but I raised a hand and waved her away. I wanted to be alone. I stood looking at the eerily beautiful, moonlit night. Sons were sons, whether they were born in a palace or a hut. But this kind of arrogance was the harbinger of disaster. But who could find fault with the youth? I had behaved worse with my father. Suddenly, a shriek, followed by a huge commotion, broke out in the palace gardens, where the celebration had been going on. Something had gone terribly wrong. With my heart pounding against my ribs, I ran towards the garden, lithely stepping over the heart-broken figure of Bhadra lying on the floor of my chambers.
49 Death visits again
Bhadra
I got up after a while. My heart was heavy. What was the use of anything? There was nothing now to look forward to. My son had been lost forever. I knew I would never see him again or maybe only as a lifeless body. Strangely, I felt empathy for the Asura King, not as our Emperor, not as the great leader who had given his life and valour for the Asura race, but as one distressed father to another. Stripped of his royal robes and shining crown, he was just like me. Or was I fooling myself? Are the powerful and the mighty unhappy in a different way?
A blanket of silence shrouded the palace. In the faint light coming from the durbar, I saw shadows among the shrubs and trees of the garden. Something secret was going on. I had decided long ago that the affairs of important men were none of my concern. But curiosity got the better of me. I peeped through the open windows and saw the Emperor sitting on his throne, his face deathly pale and his ministers huddled around a few limp bodies on the floor. I became tense. Had something happened to Athikaya? I waited with bated breath for someone to move so that I could get a better view.
“It is inexcusable.” t. Hahe Emperor said in an icy voice. The ministers shifted restlessly.
“I woke three hours ago. When I got there, the scene was grotesque. Our people were being slaughtered. It was pitch black. It wasn’t clear who was butchering whom. Initially, I thought a victory party had gone awry and our people were butchering each other. I moved away from and called the sentries. As we approached, I saw two dark figures. I am not sure, but almost certain that they were none other than Hanuman and Angada. I tried to apprehend them and threw my dagger at Angada and injured him, but in the confusion, they escaped. That was when your Highness reached the scene. Probably, Angada’s cry alerted your Highness,” Prahastha concluded and a tense silence followed.
“This is an insider job. I think we are going down in the usual Asura way. We almost triumphed today but then we snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. I think we deserve to be slaves. Two of my senior ministers butchered in my own gardens. We are dealing with an enemy who has no scruples, no sense of fair play and dharma. They are ruthless barbarians who will stoop to any level to achieve their goals. And we are infested with spies and traitors. My brother became a traitor, my friend became a traitor. I wonder who else will help the Devas? Sumali and Malyavan were good men. They may not have been warriors, nor did they deserve this end. Rudraka, this has now become an all-out war without scruples. Our aim should be to create maximum damage in the enemy ranks. I do not want us to stoop to their level of dastardly terrorist attacks and killing people in their sleep. But I think we are justified in using ruse to capture them. Find my son, if he has returned to sobriety, and bring him here. Prahastha, you will handle what Sumali and Malyavan did, till peace returns. Let us strategize and give them a lesson in their own way.” The Emperor sounded resolute and grim.
I took a deep breath. It was the old ministers. They were good men with integrity in public life, but their deaths were of no concern to me. The world was full of men like them who could be replaced without batting an eyelid and nobody would know the difference. But what was happening inside was fascinating and I stood glued to my position. Soon, I saw Meghanada and Athikaya enter the durbar. The ministers were seated in their chairs, but the bodies of the two ministers who had been slain, lay on the floor with their heads turned towards the south. Oil lamps made out of coconut shells flickering near their heads. Athikaya and Meghanada were shocked when they saw the dead. Nobody spoke for a while. The two youngsters bowed to the ground to pay o
beisance to the dead. Then Meghanada assumed his seat with Athikaya on the floor near him. Ravana raised an eyebrow at the sight of Athikaya, but the youngsters ignored the distaste of their elders.
“Tomorrow, when Rudraka strikes from the eastern side, Prahastha will attack from the sea with the captured ships and will try to either sink or take more pirate ships. I am sure the brothers will be leading the attack. Since their bridge collapsed yesterday, they might use canoes today and try to take our left flank from the northern side of the city. We will use the hills to our advantage and ensure that boulders are employed to maximum effect. Wait till the enemy reaches our city gates and then shower them with stones and boiling oil. Use the catapults and flame-throwers effectively. Prahastha will surround them from the sea and cut off their retreat, or at least engage Varuna, so that they do not get any support from the
sea. Put Dhumraksha, the assistant chief-of-army on that task. He’ll have to create maximum impact and create panic in the Vanara ranks. When they are attacked from all sides, Surantaka, the chief of the stable task.s, will let loose the royal elephants by opening the fort gate. They will not expect us to open the fort gate. Draw them in and allow them to think they have breached the citadel of the Asuras. When they are trapped in the narrow confines between the hills and the city walls, let the beasts loose. We will show the Vanaras what we are capable of.
And you, Meghanada, I want to talk to you in private. I will assign you a task which will break the back of the Deva army. Make funeral arrangements for our slain heroes. Visit the homes of those slain in today’s battle and comfort their kin. We must assure them that the entire Asura community is with them in their bereavement and that the nation does not forsake its martyrs.” With this, the Emperor rose from his throne and so did the entire durbar.
The eastern skies were painted saffron and the birds were chirping in the trees. I was both thrilled by and afraid of what the Asura Emperor was doing. I was happy that at last he was leading from the front. He had regained his vigour, now tempered with experience. At the same time, he faced a sly and ruthless enemy who did not care even when civilians were killed and burnt enemy cities through arson and treachery. It was a bloody and brutal war and my son was part of some secret scheme. I did not want him to take any part in this war. But sons are sons. I was tired. I went home, leaving scheming kings and invading princes far behind. I wanted to drink and sleep like a log.
50 For whose sake?
Ravana
The loss of two of my ministers was a great blow. This war was different from any other war I had fought. My palace was swarmed with spies. Assassins struck with impunity. I hoped that today we would finish off that upstart of a Deva prince. I had heard that that the Vanaras believed him to be an avatar of Vishnu himself. ‘That is a good piece of propaganda, I must admit. Claim that God is with you, or better, you are God, then anything you do, any adharma you commit, becomes divine play.’ I was shocked to learn that many common Asuras had also begun to believe in Rama’s divinity. Making your wife suffer exile in the forest, killing a friendly king through deceit, sending terrorist to cities and annihilating innocent men, women and children…were these the marks of divinity? The naivety of the people was mind-boggling.
Today, hopefully, if Shiva was willing, I would tear off the mask of divinity. I was restless and wanted to get into action and see the Deva prince face to face. He was much younger than me, but the strength in my arms remained. Prahastha had advised me not to venture into the battlefield as it would be too risky. There were plenty of traitors in our midst and one stray arrow from my own ranks could finish the Asura empire forever. But I longed for action. How could I remain shut in my chamber when my people were in grave danger? I called for a guard and ordered the sentries to line up in the verandah. I choose the right one who had my build and dismissed the others. I asked the suitable one to strip and kept him locked in one of the smaller rooms. Then I left for battle in his uniform. I knew it was foolish and juvenile, but I could not help myself. I wanted to be in the action and see how my people were faring.
I went to the stables, took the first horse I could find and rode off towards the eastern gates. I could see dust rising like a cloud from there. The confusion and violence that met me as I entered the fray was unimaginable. As planned, Surantaka heahad let the royal elephants loose on the monkey-men. They were caught in the narrow corridor between the fort wall and the cliff that rose more than 300 feet high. The monkey infantry, who had rushed in when the fort gates had opened, found themselves trapped between the charging elephants and Rudraka’s mighty cavalry. I rode to a nearby hillock inside the fort to get a better view.
The Vanaras were being butchered. Huge boulders landed on them with sickening thuds from the cliff top. Arrows rained down from Rudraka’s men. Huge barrels of boiling oil were dropped onto the hapless Vanaras and some accidently spilt on the rampaging elephants, driving them insane with pain. Sugreeva had led the enemy attack and I could see him desperately trying to rally his men. Arrows zoomed past, perilously close to his head, and few struck him in the shoulder and thighs, but the monkey-king held on. But his escape route had been sealed. He would not escape this trap alive. Rudraka would see to that. This part of our plan had worked well. I rode towards the northern end, where Rama and Lakshmana were leading the attack.
Meghanada had waited until the attackers reached the northern gates and then the Asura chariots rolled in from outside the fort. The horses had been walked in the dead of the night to a nearby jungle and hidden there. Only a token force remained near the northern gate. The chariots were taken apart and carried into the jungle. Then, before dawn, the chariots were reassembled and by mid-morning, Meghanada’s charioteers charged in and attacked Rama from the rear.
Meanwhile, Prahastha had managed to drive Varuna’s fleet far away, so Rama’s armies had no naval support. With alarming swiftness, Meghanada’s charioteers surrounded the Vanara army and started their butchering. Asuras who had hidden in the trees and in the citadel and laid low during the morning attack, rose together as planned, to shower arrows on Rama’s men. The brothers were trapped. One flank was closed by Meghanada. ‘Who was taking care of the other flank?’ I craned my neck to get a better view. Whoever it was, he was doing a better job than Meghanada. Then when the dust cleared a little, I saw him. It was Athikaya, my son. The Vanara army had been surrounded on all sides and the Asuras were decimating the monkeys. Only Hanuman’s infantry held on and fought with grit and determination. The majority of Rama’s men were now trapped on the other side of the half-broken bridge to the mainland. Prowling canoes and Prahastha‘s captured fleet, effectively cut off Rama’s reckless front men from the cautious ones who had stayed back on the mainland under the command of the wily old rascal, Jambavan, the octogenarian commander of Bali, still serving under Sugreeva.
I rode back to the palace, half amused by my adolescent urge for heroics. My people were fighting to plan. If all went well, we would be holding a victory party tonight. I had got rid of the disguise by the time I reached the palace gates. But Jambavan’s reticence nagged me. ‘Why was the wily old enemy commander holding his men back? Was it another ruse? And where was Varuna?’ The reports I got indicated that he had sailed his fleet deep into the sea, far from the island, towards the mainland. But that was unusual for the pirate-King. ‘What was it that I was missing?’ I missed Prahastha.
I walked towards the garden to see my daughter. Here in the garden, it was a different world. Faint noises of battle could be heard by discerning ears, but otherwise it was just a normal day. I suppressed my thoughts and worries about the war and Rama, and stood under the shade of a sprawling tamarind tree, soaking in the beauty of the world arouse ind me. I could hear the soft whisper of the sea and see the wind rustling the leaves. I found rhythm in the orchestra that the crickets had set up in my backyard. My mind raced back to my glorious boyhood spent in the forests of this island and in the Sahya mountains of the mainland It was amazing ho
w easily the mind forgot the painful past, grinding poverty, daily humiliations, and the pangs of hunger, and only remembered the little moments of happiness. There was a pleasurable pain in nostalgia; a yearning for things that were lost forever; a magic woven over things that could have been but did not; a dusting of secret hopes and sweet frustrated longings. And there were small things in the everyday world, if one listened with your heart, like the cooing of the cuckoo, or the chatter of the squirrels, where painful things remain hidden in the shadows and long-forgotten happiness glows once again.
She looked angelic sitting under the Ashoka tree. Beside her, looking smug, was my niece, Trijata. I was not pleased to find her with Sita. I wished to speak to my daughter alone. Trijata, in more ways than one, resembled her loafer father. Kumbha lived his own life of debauchery. His once grand ambitions had been thwarted by a lack of determination and character. He was usually dead drunk in his chambers. He had yearned for immortal fame and an empire of his own, but never had the will to achieve greater things in life. Perhaps I had overshadowed him. I was always the big brother. And no one resents your success more than your siblings. Perhaps it was plain bad luck that I had become what I had. I was at an age when I no longer thought that hard work, determination and ambition determine one’s destiny. The atheist in me had died an unceremonious death long ago. I had seen too many things to naively believe that man created his own destiny and nothing else mattered. Hindsight made me ashamed to think of the childish conversation I had had, years ago, in that dark cave, with the real Asura Emperor, Mahabali. I smiled at the memory of my brashness and stupidity and the kitsch philosophy I had used, trying to impress the old man. There was something beyond the mental grasp of man that defied common sense. Determination, hard work, and all the things the gurus talk about, were useful only to determine how to react to random things that happened. But I saw order in things, the way the day and night alter or the way living things take birth, live and die. Yet many things could only be explained by a randomness called fate.
Asura- Tale of the Vanquished Page 38