He caught Lakshman glancing at him curiously and turned to share the smile and the thought with him. But Lakshman turned away at once, looking in the other direction, and the smile fell from Rama’s face. He resigned himself to a silent crossing.
They had covered perhaps a yojana and a half thus, when Lakshman slowed to a halt, pointing. He said sharply, ‘Rama.’
Rama was already alert. He had known something was potentially amiss by Hanuman’s reaction. Until just now, the vanar had flown back and forth along the length of the bridge— or rather, that part of the bridge which his comrades had covered already—making sure that nothing untoward happened to delay their progress. Once or twice, Rama had seen him swoop down, like a hawk falling out of the sky in pursuit of a long-watched prey, and pluck out some unfortunate, or mischievous, vanar from the ocean into which he’d fallen, restoring him to the line. But mostly, the vanar had only had to patrol the bridge, remaining at a height of about a mile above the sea level, visible only as a speck from down here. But a fraction before Lakshman had slowed and pointed, Rama had glimpsed Hanuman swooping down out of the sky. From the trajectory of his descent, he was not diving to rescue another fallen soldier; rather he was heading for a point some few hundred yards away from the bridge itself, far to their right, out in the open sea itself.
Rama acknowledged his brother’s warning and indicated the diving speck that was Hanuman. He slowed down, gesturing to the lines behind to slow down as well. The orders were passed down the line by the generals and tribe captains, positioned a few dozen yards apart to make conveyance of such instructions easy, and gradually, the juggernaut of Rama’s army ground to a halt. There were eager queries and grunts of curiosity down the line, answered only by firm admonishments from the leaders to maintain silence and hold positions. A few of the bolder vanars, filled with a false confidence from their hours of traversing the salt desert, used the opportunity to peek over the edge of the ‘bridge’. ‘See there,’ Rama heard one of them tell the others, ‘I told you, there are no sea serpents waiting to swallow us. Those were just things our mothers told us to get us to keep away!’
Just then something surged up out of the water, and the trio of vanars screeched and fell back over themselves. It was only one of the snouted sea bulls hoping to make friends with the land beings, but the vanars thought it was a sea serpent come to swallow them all whole. Rama admonished them with an upheld hand and a stern glance, and they subsided at once, scrambling back into formation in their lines, still trembling from their encounter. The friendly sea bull uttered an inquiring honk, peering over the top of the greyback, then, when nobody responded to its overture, sank back with a disappointed bleat.
Rama ignored this trivial distraction and focussed his gaze upon the part of the ocean where Hanuman was descending with great speed. He could see something there now that he knew where to look. Something that was not a trick of the sunlight and cloud shadow, but an object suspended upon the water itself. Some kind of craft floating on the sea. And where there was a craft, it stood to reason there would be someone aboard it.
His pulse quickened slightly. Had Ravana launched an armada to repel their crossing, it would have been far greater than that single small speck. And the ocean denizens, if not Hanuman himself, would have warned them against it long before now. Whatever that craft was, it was isolated, and posed them no harm.
Or so he hoped.
***
At first, Hanuman took the object to be a piece of driftwood. And indeed, it was not much more than driftwood. As he descended, he saw that it was a boat of Lankan design. He had seen many such on his trip to the island-kingdom, but none so small or pathetic. Its ribbing was visible, ocean water sloshing through to fill the bottom of the craft, and its single sail was tattered to shreds. It appeared to be occupied by five persons, but even from here, he could see only one of them showing any signs of life. The other four lay sprawled in postures so decrepit, he felt certain they must be dead. There were a few scavenger birds floating on the waves nearby, crying out occasionally. It was the presence of these birds and their calls that had alerted him a moment earlier. From the looks of it, the craft appeared to have survived some terrible sea storm, perhaps even the very tsunami that had devastated his comrades on the beach.
He reduced himself until he was only three or four times more than his normal size and slowed his descent until he was hovering perhaps a dozen yards above the water, examining the battered craft intently for signs of deceit. After all, those were rakshasas in the boat, and for all he knew, this could be some new ploy by Ravana to obstruct their crossing. He set his jaw firmly. If this was indeed another ploy by the lord of rakshasas, he would not have a chance to do more than show his hand. At the first sign of peril, Hanuman would crush this boat and its occupants like …
One of the rakshasas stirred.
Hanuman dropped a yard or two lower, examining the Lankan, his fists ready to pound anything that posed a threat. But the creature only turned its head and moaned groggily. It seemed to be half out of its senses, weakened from exposure or injury, he could not tell which, and despite his best efforts, he could not find any weapon upon the rakshasa’s person, nor upon any of the other four wretches lying around him in the half-sunken craft. The rakshasa moaned a second time, turning his head upward, eyes shut tightly against the relentless sun, and it was with a small frisson of surprise that Hanuman realised he understood the Lankan word the creature was speaking: it was asking for water. With another small start, he found that he recognized the rakshasa.
He flew around the boat a few times, circling it and examining it from every angle. He could find no evidence of weaponry or subterfuge. The craft was what it appeared to be: a damaged Lankan fishing boat with four dead rakshasas and one barely alive.
Certain that there was nothing in the craft that could endanger his lords Rama and Lakshman, he dropped down to the level of the ocean, waves licking briefly at his bare feet, the water surprisingly cool even in the noonday sun, and hefted up the entire craft, rakshasas and all. Water splashed as the craft broke free of the ocean, pouring down his arms and body as he lifted the boat and flew with it to Rama.
TWELVE
Angad called for the section leaders to maintain order in the ranks. The flurry of excitement that had broken out when Hanuman brought the Lankan boat with its passengers, died down. As the vanar prince saw to it that discipline was maintained, Rama and Lakshman conferred with the other generals and chiefs about what Hanuman had found.
The four dead rakshasas had been consigned to watery graves along with the battered craft in which the vanar had found them, while the lone survivor had been given the water he was moaning for so pathetically, and made somewhat more comfortable. He now sat propped up on the ‘bridge’ itself where Hanuman had deposited him gently several moments ago.
The vanars shot baleful glances in his direction. ‘He is a spy sent to assassinate you, Lord Rama,’ General Sarabha said. ‘Do not go within ten yards of him.’
The other generals also concurred, with varying degrees of suspicion. Only Sugreeva held his silence. Rama looked at him. ‘Your Majesty? What is your advice?’
Sugreeva looked at him wearily. ‘You are wiser than I, Rama. You must trust your own judgement in this matter, as in all else. Bear in mind that we vanars are greatly biased against rakshasas.’
‘And yet Hanuman speaks in this rakshasa’s favour,’ Jambavan said gruffly. The king of bears regarded the prone form of the survivor, looking more like a washed-up piece of debris than a dangerous assassin. Hanuman was squatting beside him, holding a skin of water for him to sip on slowly. ‘No vanar has as much cause to hate them as he does. Nor knows them better. Yet he calls this one a friend and an honourable Brahmin!’
Rama looked at the albino Lankan sipping water with obvious gratitude from Hanuman’s hands. A cordon of vanars and bears stood around them, spears held at the ready. They seemed somewhat overzealous. The lone rakshasa, batte
red and exhausted as he was, looked as if he could barely stand, let alone pose any threat to anyone. He had told Hanuman that he had set out for the mainland shore in the first boat he could get his hands on, accompanied by four good rakshasas to man the vessel. They were caught almost at once in the tsunami sent to destroy Rama’s bridge and had been battered by the unnatural fury of the ocean. The four others had drowned despite being on the boat, for such was the quantity of water that had fallen upon them. The albino had survived miraculously but had no means to row himself to either shore.
Rama came to a decision.
‘I will have words with the rakshasa,’ he said. ‘I request you all to stand back and let me speak with him. Lakshman, you alone will come with me. This is a task better suited to two than ten.’
Nobody argued, although the vanars looked unhappy and General Sarabha looked as if he would rather run the rakshasa through with a spear than talk with him. Rama and Lakshman went towards the head of the lines where the rakshasa was now sitting up, assisted by Hanuman. They both looked up as Rama and Lakshman approached. At once, the rakshasa joined his hands together in a namaskaram of greeting. Hanuman stood to receive them.
‘His name is Vibhisena,’ Hanuman said. He pronounced the name ‘Vibhishun’ which was probably the way he had heard it spoken back in Lanka, Rama guessed. ‘He is the brother of Ravana. And the one I spoke of to you upon my return, Lord Rama. The one who championed my lady Sita’s cause with such dedication, opposing even the king of Lanka in his own court to the point of endangering his own life. I believe him to be an ally and a man of honour, perhaps the most honourable rakshasa in Lanka.’
Rama nodded. ‘Then I shall treat him with the respect he deserves. The enemy who supports us at a time of great crisis is preferable to the friend who turns his back upon us at the first sign of trouble.’
At these words, the pale-skinned rakshasa looked up at Rama with a strange light in his watery eyes. ‘Truly,’ he said weakly, his rakshasa mouth and tongue forming the words oddly but lucidly enough, ‘I expected no less from the great warrior of dharma. It is my everlasting privilege to meet you, great and virtuous Rama Chandra of Ayodhya. And this must surely be your equally renowned brother, Sumitra-putra Lakshmana, who sacrificed all to accompany you into exile fourteen years ago.’
Lakshman’s eyes narrowed. ‘It seems you know a great deal about us, Lankan.’
Vibhisena shrugged weakly. ‘Who does not know the tale of Rama’s great sacrifice and unjust banishment? It is the misfortune of the rakshasa race that we are relegated to playing the role of the villains in your great life history.’
Lakshman frowned. ‘Tell us then, why did one of you villains suddenly leave Lanka and come seeking us?’
Rama said softly, ‘Lakshman, if Hanuman has vouched for him, then that is reason enough for us to trust him. We should not question him so roughly.’
Vibhisena’s eyes gazed up at Rama. ‘Permit me to answer, Lord Rama. Your brother is fully justified in questioning me. I know full well he means no offence by these questions, he seeks only to apprise himself of my motives.’ He turned to Lakshman. ‘My lord Lakshman. I am but a devout Brahmin rakshasa seeking to find peace in this time of great madness and war. My only mission is to aid you and your illustrious brother in your righteous effort.’
Lakshman looked suspiciously at the rakshasa. ‘You pick a strange time and place to show your support, Lankan. How do we know you are not here to delay us in our crossing? Perhaps you were sent here to stall us, and give your brother time to put some fiendish new plan into effect?’
Vibhisena shook his head in denial. ‘My lords, my brother and I have always held widely differing views on many matters, this is no secret. Hanuman here has witnessed how fiercely I opposed him in his own council. The only reason Ravana tolerated me this long was because even he has not sunk so deeply into arrogance that he would execute his own flesh and blood. But on the matter of the abduction of Sita, he and I have finally parted ways. I have sworn to remain in exile for ever rather than live in a land where such acts are tolerated. So it was that after Hanuman departed Lanka, I too resolved to leave and to offer my services to Lord Rama. For I was greatly impressed by Hanuman’s valour and the manner in which he bore himself while in our kingdom. If the messenger is such a great being, I thought, what might his master be like? Had I intended you any harm, why would I have set sail on the very sea upon which Ravana was about to wreak his sorcerous havoc? It was perhaps an ill-conceived voyage and I am no shrewd planner of such jaunts, but the devas have seen fit to spare my life and bring me to your feet. And here I lie, prepared to serve you as best I can.’
Still, Lakshman persisted. ‘Even so, how can we trust you? A brother who betrays his own flesh and blood. A rakshasa who joins with his enemies against his own race. A traitor and a turncoat.’
Vibhisena bowed his head sadly. ‘What you say is all true, and it shames me to admit it. But Ravana violated dharma by abducting Sita, and after that great transgression, he has continued to violate dharma in one misdeed after another. I cannot stand by and watch him without doing anything.’ He looked away for a moment, his eyes distant. ‘I have stood by silently for far too long as it is.’
Lakshman looked at him sceptically. ‘So you are doing this in order to uphold dharma?’
‘Yes,’ the rakshasa answered simply. ‘For dharma is above relationships, above brotherhood even, above race and caste and creed and community. It is my sense of dharma that makes me now turn against my people and my own brother.’
Lakshman was silent for a moment. Then he glanced up at Rama as if to say, Well? What next?
Rama addressed the rakshasa gently. ‘You seek sanctuary, then? Protection from your brother’s ire?’
‘Nay, my lord. I seek to aid you in your war. I ask for no sanctuary, or favours. I wish only to help you win your righteous cause.’
‘How so?’
‘My lord, you are unfamiliar with Lanka, and unfamiliar with Ravana’s military wiles. I have watched him wage war many times. I can impart to you a great deal of insight regarding the lie of the land and his strategies of war.’
Rama forced himself to inject a modicum of doubt into his next query: ‘You would aid us in killing your own countrymen and overrunning your kingdom?’
‘Only in the hope that by bringing this ill-desired conflict to a swift close, I may spare much needless bloodshed. The sooner peace is restored to Lanka, the happier I shall be. Ravana does not seek an early peace. In his current state of mind, he would relish war to be the only condition of existence. If left to him, he would sooner let every last rakshasa in Lanka die fighting than allow peace to reclaim the land. I hope that by aiding you, I shall break this endless cycle of violence and restore Lanka to the beautiful, peaceful land it once used to be.’
Rama was silent for a moment, contemplating what the rakshasa had said. He looked at Hanuman. Then at Lakshman. Then back at the long lines of vanars and bears stretching out across the ocean, waiting for his command. This decision could not take all day. He had to choose swiftly and decisively. He knew already what he must do. He spoke once more to the rakshasa, this time without any trace of suspicion or doubt.
‘My good Vibhisena, I apologise if my brother’s questioning was somewhat harsh. We are at war with your race and your appearance here was most unexpected. We would be foolish not to suspect something amiss.’
Vibhisena shook his head in dismay. ‘Nay, my lord Rama. You owe me no apologies. Lakshman was well within his rights to question me. After all that you have endured at the hands of my brother and his fellow rakshasas, I am astonished at how graciously you have treated me. In contrast, I am ashamed of how my people to be treated your own emissary Hanuman in Lanka. Sadly, it is such misdeeds that bring shame to the name of rakshasas.’
Rama held out his hand. ‘Then let us make a fresh start towards a new era of peaceful friendship. Perhaps all rakshasas and mortals cannot be friends, but we can prove t
o be the exception. I accept the hand of friendship you offer so graciously.’
Vibhisena clasped the hand Rama proffered him, tears streaking down the sides of his face. ‘I thank you, Rama. And I salute your greatness. Truly, all the great praises Hanuman heaped upon your name in my brother’s court were no more than the honest truth. You are truly a deva among mortals.’
Rama brushed aside the compliments, continuing hurriedly, ‘You are now a part of my forces, and will travel with us. However, I do not wish to delay the crossing of my armies any longer. Let us proceed to Lanka and we may speak further once we reach those shores.’
Vibhisena nodded. ‘That is wise. The sooner we reach Lanka, the better your chances of victory. Come, then. I do not wish to be the cause of any further delay to you.’ He struggled to raise himself to his feet, his nether limbs wobbling unsteadily with the effort.
Rama turned to Hanuman. ‘My friend, our new friend and ally is clearly in no condition to keep pace with us on our march. If you will do me the courtesy of carrying the noble Lankan, we shall make better time. Vibhisena, my new friend, please think of this as a friendly support. You are drained of strength, and incapable of running at the speed we must maintain to reach Lanka before nightfall.’
Vibhisena raised no objection. Hanuman bent down and hefted the prone rakshasa as easily as he might have picked up a small child. He placed Vibhisena on his shoulder, making him comfortable. Vibhisena’s pale face reflected his gratitude and pleasure at being accepted as well as at the mode of conveyance.
RAMAYANA Part 3_PRINCE AT WAR Page 55