RAMAYANA Part 3_PRINCE AT WAR

by AKB eBOOKS Ashok K. Banker

  Hanuman came to his rescue. ‘You speak truly, my lord. Such mobilisation has not been attempted ever before in vanar history. There are legends of course, but none living today were present at the time of those legendary occasions. Still, we have a term, passed on in our songs and myths. The term is janayasena. It is what we call such a gathering.’

  Janaya-sena.

  A generation army.

  An entire generation of vanars mobilised into an army. Rama caught the look on Lakshman’s face. His brother appeared sobered. They looked down together at the great mass of vanars huddled together in the valley below. Now he could see them perched even in the trees at the rim of the clearing, hanging from the thinnest branches in an attempt to view the mortal whose cause had brought them together. The trees were bent over with their weight. The foliage rustled and stirred for as far as he could see, as the vanar armies filled even the jungle for miles around. How many were there? How large could a janayasena be? These past few weeks, living and travelling with vanars, he had gained some understanding of their ways. They were far more sophisticated than they seemed at first. Although instinct was prized over rationality in their culture, nevertheless, there were vanars who had acquired some knowledge of the sciences, especially of astronomy, for vanars loved to gaze up at the stars from their treetop habitats. And astronomy required counting to high numbers.

  He thought that the combined numbers of these vanar armies assembled before him would be over ten lakhs for certain. Perhaps even multiples of ten lakhs. He doubted that there was a clearing large enough in the forests of Aryavarta where he would be able to line up and count them all.

  ‘My friend,’ he said to Hanuman. ‘I do not have words to express my feelings. This is more than I expected. Much, much more. I had no notion that you would return with such large numbers. This is a great army indeed. The greatest I have ever had the pleasure to witness with my own eyes.’

  Hanuman bowed his head. ‘It exists only to serve you, my lord Rama.’

  ‘I am honoured, Anjaneya. But surely you have exceeded your orders. Will not such a total mobilisation endanger the very continuation of your great tribe-nations? How will life go on with every able vanar gone to war?’

  Hanuman tilted his head to one side reflectively. ‘How does your life go on, my lord Rama? Without your beloved wife, can you truly live as normal?’

  Rama felt his throat harden. He shook his head.

  Hanuman shrugged. ‘Then how can we, your friends and allies, go on either? The vanar nations cannot rest until Sita devi is returned to your side. If one goes to war, then one must go fully to war. There are no half-fights and part-battles. One either gives all or one gives nothing.’

  Rama was lost for words. He turned to Lakshman to see the effect these words were having on his brother. Lakshman was staring off to the side, in the direction of the shoreline. Rama thought that Lakshman was so overwhelmed, as he himself was, that he could not meet Hanuman’s eyes any longer. The vanar’s efforts had truly been gargantuan.

  ‘Rama,’ Lakshman said softly. ‘It is impossible. This is beyond belief.’

  Hanuman glanced back in the direction of Lakshman’s gaze. He smiled and turned back to Rama. ‘My lord, if you recall my King Sugreeva’s last words, he spoke of another army that might possibly join us as well. We had scent of only rumours then, but on my journey, I met with a happy accident. I am pleased to present to you the rest of your fighting force in this war against Lanka.’

  Rama stared at Hanuman incredulously. ‘Another army? But you said that these were all the vanars on earth assembled here already, then … ’

  Hanuman came forward to take Rama’s hand. ‘The other army does not consist of vanars, my lord. See for yourself.’

  He led Rama by the hand, like a child might lead his father to show him a great sandcastle he had constructed, or a tree house. They stopped at the edge of the blackrock ridge overlooking the shoreline. A thin, straggly line of sandy beach stretched raggedly as far as the eye could see, backed by the same rise of blackrock upon which they stood. The mist had cleared further and the whole shoreline was now visible.

  Along the beach, covering every square yard for miles into the distance—as far as Rama could see—was a vast assemblage of creatures. Dark-furred, thick-pelted, each one a mammoth in its own right, even the smallest one at least thrice as high as a vanar, and twice as high as Rama or Lakshman. Some stood even taller, perhaps thrice as tall as a mortal male, and built like the trunk of a Himalayan fir. Their dark, beady eyes glistened in the sunlight as they peered up short-sightedly at Rama.

  ‘Rksaas,’ Lakshman said, almost to himself, like a man in a dream. Rksaas, or, as they were called in the common tongue, balus.

  Bears.

  An army of bears.

  SEVEN

  Hanuman raised his mace and waved to the army of bears gathered on the seafront below. In particular, Rama saw, he directed his gesture at a great black Himalayan bear at the head of the vast army. The great black was accompanied by an equally large brown, and together, they both responded to Hanuman’s wave by raising their arms and issuing a series of chuffing sounds that Rama took to be some form of bear tongue. They were echoed by their army, the combined effect loud enough to drown out the pounding of the surf momentarily. On the other side of the blackrock ridge, the vanar armies hooted enthusiastically.

  Hanuman turned back to Rama. ‘That is Jambavan, king of the bears. He desires greatly to meet with you, Rama. He says he owes you a blood-debt and will do anything to repay it.’

  A blood-debt? A great army of bears, as well as the largest army of vanars ever assembled in their history? It was too much to take in at once. Rama understood what Lakshman had meant. It was impossible, beyond belief. And yet … it was there before his eyes. As real as the rocky rise upon which he stood.

  ‘This is more than I ever expected,’ Rama said slowly. ‘I thought King Sugreeva was referring to another force of vanars. But bears … ’

  Hanuman frowned. ‘Are you not pleased, Rama? Do you not scent bears well for fighting your war?’

  A smile came to Rama’s face. ‘My friend, I am more pleased than you can imagine. This is truly a great fighting force. The largest army of vanars ever assembled. And a gathering of bears so great that I believe any mortal or asura army would be struck dumb at the very sight, as Lakhsman and I were indeed struck dumb just moments ago.’

  He glanced at Lakshman, who nodded and said, ‘A single angry bear is enough to take on a dozen armed mortals at times. I cannot imagine what havoc such an immense number of them could wreak.’ He added thoughtfully: ‘I wonder how they fight when in groups…’

  Hanuman beamed. ‘They will be glad to show you, Lakshman bhaiya. They are very eager to please Rama and will do anything he orders.’

  Rama had a moment to wonder how and when he had gained such mastery over a race of creatures with whom he had barely had any real contact in his lifetime, but before he could think of a way to express this in words without causing offence to Hanuman or the bears, a vanar came up to them. He was a little fellow, really only a youngun as they called them. A scraggly, furred chap, barely half Hanuman’s height. He reached the top of the rise, heading purposefully towards them, and suddenly came into view of the ocean. He screeched and fell back on his rump. He scrabbled frantically, then turned his face away from the view of the ocean, burying his head in his hands on the ground, while his rump stayed raised high, facing the dreaded expanse. His mouth continued to issue a stream of vanar-sounds which Rama construed as invocations to various devas and devis.

  Hanuman issued a bark of laughter at his fellow vanar’s reaction, then called out, ‘Sakra, it will not cause you any harm. It is the ocean. It only lies there, it does not come up or attack you.’

  The vanar raised his little head fearfully, to look at them. Rama saw that he had managed to get sand stuck all over his furry little cone-shaped head. ‘But it does, Maruti! It comes rushing up and cat
ches hold of your feet and drags you into its maw!’

  Hanuman shook his head, grinning apologetically at his mortal companions. ‘That’s called a wave, Sakra. And waves don’t come this far inland. We’re quite safe here, as you can see.’

  Sakra looked at them doubtfully, as if ascertaining for himself whether they were indeed as safe as they claimed they were, then stole a quick glance at the offending expanse of brine behind him. The sight was more than he was ready to absorb, and it caused him to quiver from head to toe in a perfect imitation of a wind-struck sapling. It took several more words of reassurance from Hanuman before he finally regained his feet and faced them once more.

  ‘You have nothing to fear here, my friend,’ Rama called out. ‘If you do not wish to look upon the ocean, then take three steps to your right, and then walk quickly to us.’

  Lakshman muttered something under his breath about how an army of vanars were expected to cross an ocean without being able to even look at it.

  The vanar did as Rama said, taking not three but a half-dozen steps to his right with an enthusiasm that almost carried him back down the hillside. Regaining control of himself by use of his tail, he glanced nervously in the direction of the ocean and seemed surprised that it had suddenly vanished. After a moment, he grinned, elated, and issued a happy ‘cheeka’ before bounding with astonishing speed towards them. He stopped a few yards away, and scratched first his backside and then his head violently, scattering sand and dirt everywhere, showing his gums to Rama and his companions.

  Hanuman grinned. ‘Sakra! Sakra, you little rascal! I have missed you sorely, my brother.’ He picked up and hugged the little vanar. So vast was the difference in their sizes that the smaller vanar seemed to almost disappear within Hanuman’s arms. He licked Hanuman’s face happily, then sniffed him in several key places, as Rama had seen vanars do when greeting a stranger or a new arrival.

  ‘You scent so different, Anjaneya,’ Sakra said wonderingly. ‘Looking at you, I thought it was a shapeshifter disguised as you. But now I see that it is you.’

  Hanuman laughed. ‘Yes, it is!’

  ‘Yes,’ Sakra went on seriously. ‘For I can scent your old smell underneath. It is not that you have a new scent, just that your old scent has changed so much. It is as if you have grown years in a single moon! And so healthy and strong!’

  Hanuman laughed. ‘We will speak of those things later, my brother. For now, pay your respects to King Rama and his brother Prince Lakshman.’

  He put Sakra down again. The little vanar looked at Rama and Lakshman, baring his gums and scratching his backside once or twice, vigorously, until he found some offending particle of dirt, yanked it out and examined it closely. Then he suddenly remembered his manners and the mortals before him, and abruptly bowed his head nervously several times, low enough to bang his forehead on the rocky ground.

  Rama smiled, amused at his nervousness. Many vanars still regarded him as a god, or at the very least an avatar, after his defeat of Vali and restoration of Sugreeva: it was a misapprehension he had been unable to dislodge thus far. ‘You may approach, youngun. I do not bite friends of Hanuman.’

  At that, the vanar’s round eyes grew large, seeming to fill his entirely little face. ‘But you do bite others who displease you? With giant teeth you can summon up at any time you please?’

  Hanuman prodded his brother lightly. ‘Sakra, you’re as lice-headed as ever! King Rama was making a jest. He does not bite at all.’

  ‘Mortals do bite!’ Sakra exclaimed. ‘They bite the flesh of dead animals after they kill them and burn them in fires.’ He imitated a mortal tearing roasted meat off a bone, then leaned closer and whispered to Hanuman, loud enough for both Rama and Lakshman to catch easily. ‘They eat rakshasas too, I heard! Boiled and buttered!’

  Hanuman laughed. ‘And they snack on vanars between meals, then use their finger bones to clean their teeth afterwards.’

  ‘Cheeka!’ Sakra screeched, leaping backwards a good yard or three. ‘They will eat me! They will eat me! That is why they sent for me. They know that I opened the gate to Vrindavan so we could get in and drink the honey-mead. They will catch me and cook me and eat me! Save me, brother. I beg you, save me from them!’

  Hanuman looked back at Rama and Lakshman. Both were grinning widely, amused at the little vanar’s antics. ‘You will excuse my half-brother,’ Hanuman said. ‘He is prone to overexcitement and exaggeration.’

  He turned back to Sakra. ‘Don’t be foolish, Sakra. You are not here because of any mischief you have committed. Although,’ he raised his eyebrows meaningfully, ‘I have no doubt that you have committed much mischief that would bear looking into. For the present time, it was not Rama and Lakshman who sent for you. It was me.’

  ‘You?’ Sakra looked simultaneously curious and relieved. ‘Because you missed me and regretted not taking me along on your mission?’

  Hanuman glanced at Rama as if to apologise again for his brother’s childishness. ‘No, Sakra,’ he said impatiently. ‘I sent for you because I have work for you to do.’

  Sakra stared at him goggle-eyed. ‘Work? For me?’

  ‘Yes, important work. Now, listen carefully. I wish you to tell Generals Susena and Satabali below to take up positions to convey Rama’s words. He will speak to our people shortly. Go, quickly!’

  Sakra hesitated, looked nervously—but with a shrewd reappraisal—at Rama and Lakshman, saluted his brother smartly, then bounded down the hillside towards the generals Hanuman had spoken of.

  Hanuman returned to Rama. ‘I apologise for my brother, he is … ’ he searched for words, then shrugged helplessly. ‘He is Sakra,’ he said at last. ‘We used to call him Cheeka as younguns because he always behaved more like a monkey than a vanar.’

  Lakshman flashed a rare grin, nodded as if recalling his own lost childhood, and asked, ‘And what did he call you back then?’

  Hanuman looked at Lakshman, then at Rama. He grinned shyly. ‘Any of my childhood names. Maruti. Anjaneya. Whiteleaf. Broken jaw.’ He paused. ‘And sometimes, Shard-shrak.’

  Lakshman frowned. ‘Shard-shrak.’

  Hanuman sighed. ‘One who has too thick a skull and not enough sense in it.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lakshman nodded, understanding. ‘I know that one. Bone-brain.’

  ‘Yes,’ Hanuman said, straightfaced. ‘And I would much appreciate it if you forget I ever told you that, brother Lakshman.’

  Lakshman shrugged, trying to keep a straight face too, and having some trouble doing so. ‘Of course, brother Hanuman!’

  Rama chuckled. ‘If you two have finished with your little banter, I would like to speak with the leaders of all the armies, Hanuman. Both the vanars and the bears.’

  ‘Certainly, my lord Rama. That is what I have entrusted Sakra with doing. They will set up a chain of speakers who will convey your words to even the farthermost soldiers, a full yojana away.’

  A full yojana away? That was a good nine miles! How many vanars and bears were there anyway? Rama made a mental note to ask Lakshman to make some kind of a rough count, if only to satisfy his curiosity. Aloud, he said, ‘But should we not speak to the generals alone first?’

  Hanuman joined his hands together. ‘Respectfully, my lord, the soldiers would be greatly pleased if you addressed them all together first. Among us vanars, and similarly among the bear races, we do not follow the mortal system of captains and other hierarchies quite so rigidly. Organising an army and giving orders when going into battle is one thing, but when not fighting, each vanar is virtually equivalent to all others. By addressing the troops at large first-hand, you will gain their respect.’

  Rama nodded, understanding. ‘It is most fitting,’ he agreed. ‘Very well, we shall do as you suggest.’

  Sakra came bounding back to Hanuman. He whispered a few quick words into his half-brother’s ear. Hanuman nodded and said something in response and Sakra bounded away downhill. Rama saw several other vanars take up positions along the slope of the
hill, each close enough to hear the other’s words. Hanuman looked at them, acknowledging their waves and sounds of greeting with gestures of his own. Then he turned back towards Rama.

  ‘We are ready, Rama. You may speak at any time you wish.’

  Rama took a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘First of all, then, please tell them all that I feel truly graced by the Creator Himself. For only Lord Brahma could have provided the means by which such a great force could be assembled.’

  Hanuman translated Rama’s words, calling them out loudly in the vanar-tongue, the primitive language of half-words, grunts and teeth-showing grimaces that was understood by all the separate tribe-nations and gotras of vanars. Sakra, who had positioned himself closest, rose upon his hindpaws and began issuing a series of like communications, ending with an ulullating cry that carried across the suddenly hushed valley. For several moments, Rama could hear echoes of Hanuman’s translation being passed along by the vanars below, in undulating waves that carried into the jungle and beyond, as the message was repeated with lightning swiftness until every last vanar had received it. Meanwhile, Hanuman had turned already to face the bears and was translating Rama’s words into their tongue, producing a passable imitation of bear-talk. On the bear side of the ridge, Rama heard chuffing sounds and loud, resounding grunts, as the bears passed on Rama’s words in like fashion.

  A brief pause followed the end of the translation.

  Then, as one enormous beast, the entire vanar army bared its collective teeth and issued an ulullating cry that seemed to resound across the world. The bears followed them with an enormous roaring that put Rama in mind of a glacial waterfall he had once seen in springmelt high in the Gangotri region of the mighty Himalayas, source of the great river Ganga. Birds took to the air for yojanas around, startled by the sheer volume of sound.

  Hanuman said, ‘They are pleased by your praise. Pray, mouth more words. They would hear the great Rama speak further. They have heard so much about your courage and prowess in battle. If you will say some wise, noble words of inspiration, they will feel blessed.’