His conscience spoke quietly, sternly: What are you doing, Maruti Anjaneya? You are not here to sample the temptations of Lanka. You are here on a service to Lord Rama. Have you forgotten? The lady Sita is in grave distress. You were to find her before nightfall and already the hour is grown late …
He shook his head to clear it of the vapours and odours of sin and intoxication that had surrounded him; of the alluring perfume of the lady Lanka. For all her beauty, she was still no friend of his, and he had a mission to complete.
Aloud he said quietly: ‘My lady, I believe there is only one place left to look. I mean to enter that tower and seek out the lady Sita.’
He nodded over his shoulder as he spoke, for they were in the shadow of the great tower itself now, only a few hundred yards below it.
She looked up at him, her eyes catching the light of fireworks crackling in the sky overhead. Again, he was momentarily distracted by her beauty and by the ethereal grace and nobility that she retained even in this unpleasing rakshasi form. Her moment of petulance had passed quickly, he noted with relief, and she had regained the air of sombre dignity that became her so well. ‘You are wise beyond appearances, young one. That is precisely where she is.’
He stared at her. ‘Then you knew her location all this while? And did not tell me?’
She flashed a dark smile, clearly relishing an opportunity to pay him back for not acquiescing to her entreaties a moment ago. ‘You did not ask.’
Remember, said the voice in his head, she may call herself your friend, but she is not one yet. After all, she is Lanka.
Moments later, Hanuman and the lady Lanka stood at the base of the great white tower. He looked but could see no guards in sight. The area all around was empty, but only a hundred yards below, the carousing went on. He glanced up again at the tower. It loomed up into the dark night sky. He sniffed suspiciously.
‘Can this truly be Ravana’s palace?’ he asked doubtfully.
‘Why?’ she asked in a challenging tone. ‘Because it does not have a plaque saying it is so?’ When he did not respond, she went on, ‘It is more than a tower, much more than meets the eye. But have no doubt, this is the domicile of the lord of Lanka. If it does not resemble a palace in the usual sense, then that is by choice.’ She added wryly, ‘Perhaps he designed it just so it would confuse intruders such as yourself.’
Paying her ironic tone no heed, he went around the base of the tower. The sounds of the city faded, and when he was on the far side, they were extinguished completely. He smelled something else though, a strange half-familiar odour. He crouched down, sniffing at the foot of the tower.
‘I smell iron,’ he said. ‘And sulphur. And other scents that do not seem to belong here.’
Her voice came from behind him. ‘There was a volcano on this site, not too long ago. It erupted some thirteen years ago, engulfing the remains of the old Lanka. This city you see laid out before you like a newly wed bride, this is the new Lanka, built over the ashes of that ancient city. And this tower stands on the very site of the old volcanic channel.’
He nodded. ‘That explains much. But what madness possessed the lord of Lanka to build his palace upon the site of a volcanic channel? A tower no less! Surely the foundation of this edifice must rest in a bed of lava.’
‘You underestimate his powers, young vanar. This edifice you call a tower, it is no construction of metal and stone as you can attest yourself.’
Having licked the Tower’s surface, he could only agree. ‘It is like no substance I have ever encountered before.’
‘Indeed. That is because it is not a tower at all. That is why it requires no foundation or structure in the usual sense. This, my handsome vanar friend, is the Pushpak, the great device of the gods.’
He stared up in newfound awe at the sky-reaching white monolith. ‘Pushpaka? The flying chariot of Lord Brahma?’
‘Not merely a chariot, but a device that obeys the commands of its master and takes any form, any shape that he desires. It was the property of Brahma once, but Kubera, treasurer of the devas and half-brother of Ravana won it as a gift from Brahma because of austerities he had performed. Later, Ravana wrested it away from him at the same time that he won Lanka itself in the great Yaksa war, along with all of Kubera’s great store of wealth. He has lost much of the wealth since then, but the Pushpak remains, serving him as he pleases. At present, Ravana desires it to assume the form of a great white tower, and so that is what it is. If he chooses, he can make it resemble an entire city, or shrink itself to the size of a single chariot to carry him across the ocean with the speed of the wind—or across worlds, if he desires.’
Hanuman took a step back from the tower, marvelling at its pearl-like perfection. ‘The very structure itself obeys his mind’s command.’
‘And none may enter or leave its environs unless he decrees it. This is why you see no guards outside the tower. He has no need of them, for the Pushpak itself is the most effective protector he could ever want.’
Hanuman nodded. ‘Surely then Sita devi is inside this place. I must enter at once. Already, the hour grows late.’
She chuckled softly. He turned to look at her sharply. She was laughing openly, but when he looked, she raised a hand to cover her mouth as a cultured lady would be expected to do. ‘Do you think to force your way in by brute force? Even the strength of a god will not be sufficient to tear a hole in the Pushpak’s defences.’
He was silent.
She took his silence as an indication that he was lost for words. ‘Oh, don’t be disheartened, Hanuman. You have done a great deal already. Much more than anyone could expect of a vanar, even one with such extraordinary gifts. Even Rama cannot fault you for having tried so hard and failed. This is no ordinary place and Ravana no ordinary foe. The gods themselves have lost to him before, and been slaves in his household in times past.’
Still, he was silent.
She came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, touching him, caressing him. ‘There is nothing more you can accomplish here. Come, let us away. Stay the night with me and I will show you the true wonders of my land!’
His only response was to remove her hand from his shoulder. ‘I thank you for your assistance and grace, my lady. But I request you to leave me now.’
‘Leave you?’ Her voice was incredulous, shocked.
‘My purpose will not be thwarted by any distraction. I must proceed and fulfil my mission.’
‘Distraction?’ Her tone was sharper this time. ‘Is that how you perceive me? As a distraction?’
He looked at her. Her face had contorted with a new expression, an unattractive one. It made him wonder how he had ever thought her beautiful. It made him wary of his own feelings and her true intentions in accompanying him on his quest. ‘My lady, anything that delays me or draws me away from my true purpose ill serves my lord Rama’s cause. I thank you for your company and your guidance until now. But I realise that I must continue my journey alone. Pray, allow me to take my leave of you now.’
She stared at him scornfully. ‘And what do you expect to accomplish without me to guide you? Do you believe you can enter Ravana’s palace tower alone and unarmed, seek out the prisoner and carry her away without so much as a bleat of protest?’
He shrugged. ‘I will face what challenges may arise when they arise.’
He was looking directly at her eyes at that instant and saw something peculiar occur. For a moment, just a fraction of a second, they seemed to alter subtly, to become eyes like those of a jungle predator, like the great jungle cats that his vanar race feared and detested so much. Then, before he could be certain of it, they were as before once again.
‘I see that you are more resolute of purpose than I first believed,’ she said.
‘My lady,’ he said, growing restless. ‘I cannot dally here talking all night. Sita may be in grave distress. I must find her at once.’
She was silent a moment. ‘And you know that this will bring you up against the lo
rd of rakshasas himself, will most surely earn you his wrath. Are you prepared to face Ravana and feel the blight of his anger?’
‘If need be, yes. And now, I take your leave.’
He turned back to the tower, considering the best place to strike and attempt to force an entry. He joined his hands together to make a double fist, intending to hammer at the wall and see if he could not batter a hole.
Before he could raise his hands to strike, the surface of the tower shimmered, like a reflection upon the surface of a sunlit lake, and a portal opened in the wall itself, large enough for him to pass through.
He turned to see the lady Lanka gesturing with a raised hand, a sardonic smile on her beautiful face. ‘Let us see if you can match your actions to your intentions, bold one. I am intrigued by your foolhardy courage. Few would dare to even dream of confronting Ravana under such circumstances, and none would survive such an encounter. But I am impressed by your dedication and your zeal. I will take you to the end of your quest and watch to see how you accomplish your goal.’
She stepped forward through the portal, turning to beckon him on. ‘Come, I will take you to your lady Sita.’
He hesitated, sniffing sharply. He did not trust the lady Lanka’s intentions any more. In point of truth, he had begun to doubt that she was what she claimed to be. And this whole capitulation and the ease of her entry into the tower, it all reeked of a trap. Beware, Anjaneya, his mind’s voice warned. It is for good reason that you are a sworn brahmacharya. You took the vow of celibacy because you knew that desire for the opposite sex can cloud a warrior’s judgement at crucial moments. From the very first moment she appeared, this being, whomever she might truly be, has manipulated you with great shrewdness and skill. You cannot trust her.
Every instinct in his body screamed that he was stepping into a trap.
But it was a trap that might just lead him closer to Sita.
With a grimace and a soft growl, he lowered his raised fists and leaped through the portal, into the tower.
EIGHT
He was plunged immediately into hell. Either hell or a heaven designed by perverse rakshasas.
He stood still, staring incredulously. Without realising it, he had changed back into his natural form, shocked by the sights and sounds that sprawled before him. His senses were overwhelmed, his mind ignited like a lump of camphor touched to an open flame.
‘What is this place?’ he heard himself whisper.
The lady’s voice caressed his ear, speaking in the same manner she had used before~~Call it what you will. Ravana calls it the Palace of Infinite Pleasures. A place where all your desires are fulfilled. A garden of earthly delights. A cornucopia of sensual satisfaction.~~
He breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind of the thick musk that enveloped him, and only inhaled more of the intoxicating odours of the chamber. Before him, vaster than anything he had ever seen before, lay a seemingly endless space. There was little doubt that the place within was far, far greater than the external dimensions of the tower suggested. That in itself did not surprise him; he knew it was a celestial device, capable of astonishing miracles. But he had not been prepared for what lay within its deceptively pristine white walls.
The space was filled with bodies writhing and twisting in the torment of sensual pleasure. Thousands upon thousands, perhaps even lakhs, of rakshasas of every shape and colour and race. All engrossed in a frenzy of sensual pleasuring.
~~Hanuman,~~ said the beautiful one who called herself Lanka. ~~You are a handsome and virile vanar. I am impressed by your bravery and your dedication. Come. Let us dally here awhile. I would share my charms with you.~~
He fought the impulses that warred within him. With each passing moment, he began to see more and more. What had seemed at first to be only one vast chamber was in fact a thousand chambers, each immeasurably vast. The entire Mount Mahendra could have been brought into this place and it would have been as an anthill. And the more he looked, the more he saw. And heard. And smelled. And felt. It was endless, without limits. Somehow, Ravana had contrived a place that only looked like a white tower from without. Within its walls was a space as vast as imagination itself: an endless unravelling of sexual excesses, played out by more rakshasas than could be counted.
The more he studied it, the more it threatened to overwhelm him. Just as a man fond of drink pauses when passing the open doorway of a tavern, tempted by the reek of liquor and the sights and sounds of the revelry within, so he too paused, wondering for a fraction of an instant what it might be to participate in this feast of the senses. It was only the briefest pause, not even a considering, let alone a yielding. But it was enough to let the ocean of sights and sounds press at the dam of his self-control and threaten to burst through like a raging flood.
He fought it furiously, with all his will and self-empowered strength, fought to regain his equilibrium the way a drowning man thrashes and twists his way back to the surface. The forces against him were too great.
Through his struggle, he felt the voice of the lady who called herself Lanka and whom he now knew was a rakshasi of some sort, seeking to insinuate itself through the chink in his mental armour, trying to wedge it open and let the flood come rushing through. On a more physical plane, he heard and saw and felt the rakshasas nearest to him approach, crawling and dragging themselves across the lushly carpeted floor, clutching at him, caressing his skin, calling him to join them in their depraved games, seducing.
He thrashed and twisted, clutched by a thousand blind hands. Tugged at by a million minds warped by an existence spent seeking only pure hedonistic pleasure.
~~Struggle is useless, my vigorous vanar. No being in all the three worlds possesses the ability to resist the allure of the palace of infinite pleasure. Even the devas hesitate to come here, for they fear they might never leave. Every fantasy you ever conceived can be fulfilled here, handsome Hanuman. It is futile to resist. Give yourself over to the call of your own libido and you will experience pleasure such as you never dreamed possible.~~
No, he shouted, I will never—
But no words came from his open, gasping mouth.
He flailed, tearing himself free of the clutching, reaching, caressing limbs that sought to bear him down, to crush him beneath the weight of his own subterranean desires, to awaken the reservoir of secret lust that every creature of flesh and blood must of necessity possess in order to procreate and further its species. The flailing was as much mental as physical. For every pair of hands he threw off, twisted free of, a thousand new pairs clasped him slickly. For every inflammatory incendiary sight and sound and scent he blocked, a million more rushed in to replace it. Now it seemed the very ground beneath his feet was made of living, writhing rakshasas, engaged in the vulgar execution of primal lusts. Every mote of air he breathed was filled with the musk of sexual predation. Every way he turned, everything he did, only increased the onslaught.
He cried wordlessly, caught in the bog of lust, sinking beneath the weight of a million nameless desires, his struggles only dragging him deeper into the quicksand.
He had been prepared to fight, to battle any number of opponents, wage war single-handedly if need be. He had been unalarmed by the flying mountain, by the giant sea serpent, had expected resistance, fighting, bloodshed. But this was a war for which he had no armour. A battle that he was not armed against. A struggle for which he had no defenses prepared.
Yet he fought on.
His head reeled, his senses swam. His sense of smell was overwhelmed, his mind assailed. He fought furiously, but it was as if he had been submerged in a bottomless ocean and was trying to swim his way back to the surface. He swam through the ocean, racked by storm winds, teeming with great creatures and aquatic marvels and wonders, seeking only to regain the surface and breathe clean natural air once more. But struggle as he may, he could not reach it. He was lost, lost in a world not of his understanding, succumbing to a struggle for which he had no means of retaliation.
; Then a single word swam to the surface of his beleaguered mind.
Rama.
He repeated it, felt its graceful syllables upon his mind’s tongue.
Rama.
It brought solace. The ocean paused in its churning turmoil, the flood abated a brief instant, the quicksand ceasing its relentless sucking.
Rama.
He recited it with adoring respect. Like a mantra against unseen evils.
Ramaramaramaramaramaramaramaramaramarama …
‘Rama!’
The sound of his own voice was like the gasp of a drowning man, regaining the surface, gulping in his first breath of air after long moments of agony.
He repeated it again, firmer and more resolute. ‘Rama.’
The hands clutching at him, clasping him, caressing him, began to shrink away. The hordes seeking to pull him down, to drag him into their own perverse ocean of toxic sensuality drew back fearfully.
~~No, you fool. Your master cannot save you now. Only Ravana can help you. Say his name instead. Say Ravana’s name aloud, call to him for help. He is the only master!~~
‘Rama,’ he said softly, reverentially.
And flexed his body.
They fell away like shackles unchained. A space grew around him, larger, widening with every bisyllabic repetition.
Ramaramaramaramarama …
~~You fool. You seek your own destruction. My cousin—I mean, Ravana, the lord of Lanka, will discover you if you say that name here. It is forbidden. Outlawed.’
‘RAMA!’ he boomed, his voice expanding to fill the length and breadth of the vast space.
They were screaming now, unable to bear the sound of the Forbidden Name. He repeated it over and over, relishing his power over them, at the manner in which each repetition leached the lust out of this hellish place and left it a little cleaner, less impure.
RAMAYANA Part 3_PRINCE AT WAR Page 33