~be calm land-being your friends are safe and well~
He started, unable to discern what being had spoken to him and by what means. The words seemed to enter into his mind directly without being uttered as sounds to be captured by his organs of hearing. Yet he did not feel alarmed, for the ‘voice’, if it could be called that, seemed benign and benevolent, much like a wise, ancient silver-back elder of his own race.
~I am called greyback and it is upon my back that you are resting~
He looked down. And realised that the immense grey raft-like thing he was floating upon was no raft or shelf of rock, but a living being. He recalled the great sea elephants he had seen in the ocean, spouting high plumes of water and calling out to each other in strange high-pitched tones. This was one of them, then. Still, he was cautious and suspicious. The lord of asuras had many minions, and they could assume many forms and avatars.
‘Where am I? Where is my lord Rama, and all my comrades?’
~you will see them very soon ~at the great Rama Chandra’s command ~my lord Varuna asked me to bear you aloft and keep you here in the event that Ravana attempts another assault upon your people ~Rama wishes you to remain here until he orders otherwise~
At the mention of Rama, Hanuman allowed himself to relax somewhat. There was something in the greyback’s tone that made him want to believe the sea beast’s mindvoice.
‘Then it was Ravana who unleashed the wave upon us?’ Hanuman asked angrily, clenching his fists and baring his teeth. ‘The craven. To use asura shakti to kill from afar instead of daring to face my lord in person. Only a coward would wreak havoc thus, without staining his hands with the blood of his foes.’
~indeed ~and for this same reason your lord Rama was infuriated beyond measure ~he resorted to celestial weaponry and was about to wreak havoc upon the oceans as chastisement for killing so many of his followers~
Hanuman felt the great greybacked sea being shudder, its entire body rippling as it trembled in fear of Rama’s wrath. He felt his own heart shudder as well, not in fear of Rama but in empathy for his fellows. Killing so many … ‘My people are in distress, then,’ he cried aloud. ‘They are in need of my help. I must go to their aid at once.’
~ease your heart my friend ~I understand your pain ~ but there is nothing you can do now~
And in the same fashion, speaking directly to his mind, the ocean being explained to him all that had transpired since the arrival of the devastating wave.
Hanuman’s heart ached to think of all those fallen comrades. How could he have lain unconscious when his fellows needed his help? He felt wretched and would have expanded himself and leaped off the greyback to fly back to the mainland shore at that very instant. But the wise sea creature reassured him that his efforts had saved countless lives, and after taking the brunt of the great wave on his own person, it had been necessary for him to rest and recover his strength. Now there was no need for him to fly to the shore.
‘But my lord will have need of me,’ he protested. ‘I am well enough now, I must go to Rama at once, and do what I can to repair the broken bridge. We have lost precious time already, and must redouble our efforts if we are to reach Lanka and avenge my lady Sita’s dishonour.’
~my brave and big-hearted friend~go then~fly up as high as you will and see for yourself ~see for yourself what your lord Rama has achieved through showing mercy to Lord Varuna and us ocean denizens ~see how we are serving your lord’s purpose in exchange for his sparing our lives and the ocean world~
Hanuman needed no further encouragement. He took a deep breath and expanded himself. As he grew, he crouched down and used the back of the sea creature to launch himself up into the air. Had he waited too long and grown too large, he feared that he might injure the greyback with his weight and force. Even so, he felt the greyback’s immense body dip briefly beneath the surface and the ocean waters slosh noisily in his wake, then he was aloft and rising rapidly, up past the clouds, the highflying flocks of birds—who squawked and broke their neat formation to disperse, protesting angrily—until he was high enough to see for yojanas in every direction. He looked in the direction of the mainland, heart clenching at what he might witness.
And he saw an amazing sight.
Rama’s bridge was indeed broken. Dislocated by the tsunami wave, the great rocks that he and his compatriots had laboured so long and hard, and at such terrible cost, to drag and drop into place, were dispersed, fallen into the ocean, tumbled higgledly-piggledly here and there. It would be impossible for the vanars and bears to dive into the water and raise them up again. They would have had to start anew, bringing new boulders, and rebuilding the bridge almost from the start. It would be a daunting, near impossible task.
But there was no need to do so.
For a new bridge had been constructed. A bridge of greybacks like the one who had borne Hanuman aloft just now, lined up in the ocean from the mainland shore all the way up to the spot where Hanuman’s greyback was still floating and spouting water from the breathing hole in its head, and beyond, all the way to Lanka. Most were submerged beneath the surface of the water, waiting to be told to rise. But from his high vantage point in the sky, wafted by a gentle sea breeze, the line of greybeings looked like a great grey bridge across the ocean, as solid as any bridge of rock or wood. From time to time, one of them would raise his or her head slightly and spout a fountain of water high into the air, issuing a deep, reverberating call that was answered by many other greybacks along the long line.
It was an astonishing, beautiful sight.
As he hovered, marvelling at this miracle of nature, Hanuman heard the greybeing on whose back he had been resting, issue a high tone almost too intense for mortal ears to catch. To his vanar ears, familiar only with creatures of the jungle and the plains, the sound resembled the lowing of an elephant leader to its tribe. In answer, the long line of greybacks lowed back. Somehow, he could follow the broad gist of their communication, if not every subtle nuance. There were cows and bulls among them too, he understood then, just like among warm-blooded creatures on land, there were even young ones and elderly ones, although the eldest were of an age far greater than any vanar could ever hope to live … And the eldest, wisest, and greatest of them all was the cow who had held him aloft, and from the tone of their response, he could tell that the great line of greybacks revered her and obeyed her every wish. She was the leader of the ocean tribe, then.
On the great matriarch’s order, the entire line of greybacks elevated themselves out of the water, just high enough to provide a natural bridge some two yards above the level of the ocean, enough to provide a platform for vanars and bears and his lords to walk upon and cross as safely and comfortably—nay, much more safely and comfortably, for unlike rocks, the backs of these greybeings were smooth and flat— creating a perfect natural bridge all the way to Lanka.
***
Lakshman watched as the vanar forces lined up in an orderly fashion, their usual vanar exuberance tempered somewhat by the ravages of the tidal wave and the loss of their fellows. Angad and the generals of the various armies were organising them into a queue of two abreast, for though the bridge of greybacks was wide and flat enough to make crossing easy, it was not wide enough for the armies to simply race across pell-mell, as they were clearly keen to do in their newfound anger. The bear chiefs were grunting and squealing at their forces to get them to form a similar queue.
A row of northern bears with their characteristic light-hued fur, almost silvery white in the sunlight, shambled to the fore, jostling past their fellow bears to forcibly make place for a third row, even though they knew quite well that the command had called for only two bears and two vanars to cross at one time. Lakshman paused and succinctly but grimly spelled out the likely consequences of disobedience to the chief of the northern bears. The bear glowered down at Lakshman, his snarling jaws dripping threads of spittle, then turned and raised his head, issuing great grunting commands to his tribe-fellows. With lowing moans
of protest they all turned and shuffled after him to the back of the long line, stretching now far beyond the ragged line of debris that marked where the treeline had stood before the wave struck.
Lakshman intervened in one or two other similar instances where vanars or bears who had lost companions to the killer wave were somewhat overeager to cross and have first strike at the rakshasa hordes, but on neither occasion did he have to use force. Simmering though their rage was at the unfair misuse of natural elements to strike down unsuspecting warriors, they knew better than to transfer that rage to the very mortal leaders who would grant them the revenge they now sought. After a few more carefully spoken stern commands and crisp orders passed down the lines, the vanars and bears subsided into an orderly routine, stepping down the beach in pairs. Lakshman turned and noted that the first line of four soldiers—two vanars and two bears abreast—was at the point where the first greyback floated in the water, waiting. The ocean lord had stilled the waves nearest to the shore to allow the armies to board the bridge without mishap. Although Varuna was no longer in sight—Lakshman suspected that the deva could not maintain that physical form for long—his presence was palpable, keeping the elements of the sea and its environs tightly leashed and wholly benign towards Rama’s forces.
Rama.
Lakshman turned and sought out his brother. There he was, at the high northern end of the beach, conferring with Jambavan and Sugreeva and the other elder bears and vanars. His war council. He had asked Lakshman to join them too but Lakshman had answered gruffly that he would first oversee the preparations for the crossing. Rama had nodded without questioning him further, but Lakshman had seen him glance briefly in his direction as he walked away, his eyes seeing all, noting everything. Nothing escaped Rama’s attention. Not even at a time like this. Certainly not the barely restrained resentment his brother was harbouring.
Lakshman clenched both his fists, then released them along with an exhalation of breath, trying to rid himself of that very resentment. It was futile. He would have to have words with Rama. He needed to know certain things, to hear the answers to the questions that were eating him alive. He knew that this was not the time to pose these questions, to demand Rama’s attention for even a brief moment, but he also knew that he could not concentrate on his duties until he had confronted his brother and received those answers to his fullest satisfaction.
Better then to do it now and get it over with.
He walked towards the knoll upon which Rama and his councillors were gathered. They were looking at the sand, where one of the vanar generals had been drawing lines and arrows to indicate strategy. It was Satabali. The elder vanar was crouched on the sand, pointing with a stick at various points on a crude map of what could only be Lanka, or a rough indication of what they presumed to be the island-kingdom’s layout. The other vanar generals, Nila, Susena and Vinata, crouched around the map while Angad stood by with a stick of his own and a frown marring his golden furred features. Rama, Sugreeva and Jambavan stood facing the map, listening carefully. Kambunara and the other bear generals were standing behind and around them, tall enough to be able to see over the heads of the vanars easily.
Lakshman spared the map a glance, walking around the knot of vanars and bears. He listened to Satabali’s laboriously detailed war plan as he walked. It was a good plan, not unlike classic siege-breaking strategies that mortals also used, and which Lakshman and his brothers had studied back in Ayodhya during the military part of their education. But Lakshman could easily see the flaw in the plan, and knew that Rama saw it too; indeed, Rama must have seen the flaw within moments of Satabali starting to expound it, yet he had listened these past moments and was listening still, patiently and with evident interest. Lakshman did not understand how Rama could be so patient with what was clearly an irrelevant course of action. There was no point in discussing a siege-breaking strategy because there would be no siege. He restrained the urge to interrupt the elderly vanar’s droning, meticulous explanation, and stopped at the far end of the circle from Rama.
Now he could look across the sand-map and see Rama directly, face-to-face.
Rama continued to listen intently to Satabali’s explanation. Finally, the general wound down and his flow of words petered out. He stood erect, the stick clutched by his side, like the military veteran he was, awaiting his commander’s response to his suggestions.
Rama spoke a few well-chosen words of praise and admiration for the plan, and for Satabali’s astuteness in applying it to the current scenario. He also thanked the other vanar and bear generals for laying out their excellent suggestions, and promised that he would take all their ideas into consideration when planning the actual assault on Lanka. He finished by saying, ‘We shall make our final decision once we are on the far side of the ocean and have reviewed the lie of the land.’
The generals nodded approvingly and Rama turned his attention to Lakshman. Although Lakshman knew that Rama had been aware of him from the very instant he had stepped into his field of view, if not before, it was only now that Rama permitted himself to raise his eyes and look directly at him. ‘And now, my brother would have words with me. If you will grant us a few moments in private … ’
‘We shall go and prepare for the crossing, Lord Rama. But we shall await your command to begin,’ Sugreeva said. The vanar king looked wan and weary, his injuries from the wave no doubt adding to his age and ailing health. Still, he bore himself proudly as he walked stiffly with his son and the others towards the quadruple lines snaking up the beach.
Lakshman walked around the sand-map slowly, keeping his eyes on the sketch of Lanka. ‘I apologise if I am distracting you at this crucial time, Rama,’ he said softly.
Rama shook his head. ‘You have nothing to apologise for. You are my brother. We command this army, this campaign, together. Whatever you have to say is not a distraction, it is a necessity. Speak your mind, Lakshman, my brother.’
Lakshman stopped and looked up at Rama. Suddenly, without warning, the anger he had been suppressing the past several hours flared into flame. He fought to restrain it, but it was hard enough not to raise his voice and howl his anguish. When at last he spoke, his voice was pitched evenly, just loud enough to be heard above the inevitable background sound of a million-plus vanars and bears jostling and preparing for the great crossing. But he could hear the pain and confusion in his tone, and knew that Rama heard every nuance as well.
‘Why, Rama?’ he asked. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you betray Sita and me and yourself? Why did you decieve us all these years?’
TEN
Rama regarded Lakshman calmly. He had expected this very outburst from his brother. It was testimony to Lakshman’s age and maturity that he had waited this long to broach the topic. Now, he could wait no longer. It would do no good to suggest to him, however gently, that they should speak of this later, that there was a great deal of arduous work ahead, or that it would do no good for the vanars and bears to see their mortal devas—for, like it or not, they now regarded himself and Lakshman as nothing less than demigods or avatars —bickering thus. But he knew his brother well enough to know that Lakshman could not be persuaded to wait. Best to deal with this quickly and be done with it.
‘Lakshman,’ he said gently, ‘I understand your ire. You wonder how I was able to summon the shakti to call up Varunadeva, and challenge him with annihilation. That is what troubles you, is it not? How did I come by such power? For after unleashing the brahm-astra at Mithila, to repel the asura armies of Ravana, both you and I were divested of the maha-shakti of Bala and Atibala which Brahmarishi Vishwamitra had infused into us, as well as the several dev-astras he imparted to us. Indeed, we were denuded of all Brahman shakti forever. For that was the heavy price we had to pay for unleashing the ultimate weapon of all, the weapon of mighty Brahma the Creator Himself. So how was it that today, long years after that divestment at Mithila, I was able to summon up such shakti as would compel the lord of the oceans himself to take phy
sical form and show himself to me, and enable me to threaten his vastness with destruction on a scale so terrible that it would be beyond even his divine powers to prevent? This is the question that burns within your breast, is it not? How was it that I was able to summon up such great power at will today, when Brahmarishi Vishwamitra said quite explicitly that we would not be able to do so for the rest of our mortal lives?’
Lakshman’s face, drawn and angular from years of hard forest living, stared back at him with blazing eyes. ‘Yes, Rama. That is the first question that I wish to hear answered: How? How did you come by such immense shakti?’
Rama was about to answer, when Lakshman held up his hand.
‘No, brother.’ He shook his head grimly. ‘Do not speak just yet. For I fear that once your words flow, they will sweep away all my objections the way the Sarayu in spate carries away a sapling torn from its roots. Allow me to speak a few moments longer. You have already spoken my question for me. Now, allow me, if you will, to attempt to voice your answer.’
Rama inclined his head in acquiescence.
Lakshman went on. ‘The answer that I propose, for I have thought this over carefully these past hours as the ocean lord’s great greybacks arranged themselves to form the bridge that awaits our armies … the answer I propose to my own question is itself a question. Bear with me as I speak my thoughts aloud, for I have not your skill at wordcraft, my older and wiser brother.’ He paused, staring out at the horizon for a moment before going on. ‘At first, when I saw you unleash such great power, not just shakti but maha shakti, I was dumbstruck. I could not believe my eyes. Then, when I saw you wield that celestial bow and arrow, I recalled their shape and form at once.’
RAMAYANA Part 3_PRINCE AT WAR Page 53