‘My lord,’ said one of the generals. ‘I say to you, the leaders of the invading army, the mortals Rama Chandra and his brother Lakshman, have freed themselves of Indrajit’s arrow-snakes and risen up once again. They appear to be unharmed and in perfect health. Even as we speak they are marshalling their troops and preparing to attack the capital.’
There was a pause during which everyone waited for Ravana to respond. The king of Lanka gazed out into the distance with three of his heads, one appearing to be softly chanting some kind of shloka—or could it possibly be a song? Surely not! Supanakha resisted the urge to giggle. If she didn’t know better, she would think that Ravana was growing senile at last!
Finally, one of his heads seemed to notice that everyone was staring at him. The head frowned and looked around. ‘Yes, I heard you before. Rama and Lakshman are revived once again. They are about to attack us. And you,’ he indicated another general, ‘said that the bear king and his forces are already in possession of the northern quarter and are preparing to fight their way out.’ He nodded at yet another rakshasa, a war minister more renowned for his amassed wealth than his victories. ‘And you said that the troops are on the verge of revolt, that there seems to be some rumour abroad that Rama’s wife was unjustly abducted by me, and that I provoked this whole war and endangered the entire rakshasa race in doing so.’
The war minister paled and quickly made several obsequious gestures. ‘Not in so many words, your highness,’ he said nervously.
‘It is what you meant, if not what you said,’ Ravana said imperiously. ‘Let’s stop beating about the bush now, shall we? We’re in a sticky situation. The enemy is at the gates, their numbers are still greater than our own, and they have infiltrated our city. With the morale of our troops already faltering, we do not have much hope of turning this war around in our favour. And to make an already bad situation worse, it now appears that the whole thing might have been one great misunderstanding.’
‘A misunderstanding?’ asked one of the generals, a younger rakshasa sworn in quickly to replace his father, a veteran of the wars against the devas and a legendary warrior. The son was clearly not a patch on his illustrious forebear. He looked as if he had eaten something rotten for his morning meal. For that matter, almost every one in the chamber looked wan and sickly, and the way they had blanched at Ravana’s words made it clear that he had struck too close to the truth for their comfort.
‘Yes, a misunderstanding,’ Ravana replied. ‘You know what I mean. These things happen. It’s no use crying over it now, anyway. We will go on, of course. With the war, I mean. Send Indrajit out again, and don’t fret, I’ve made arrangements for my brother to be awoken.’
‘But, sire,’ said the minister for procreation. ‘Your brother Vibhisena has betrayed us and joined Rama’s forces! In fact, we suspect it is his excellent knowledge of the city that gives these bear warriors the advantage.’
Ravana regarded the minister with two heads, one of which looked as if it was eyeing a crushed insect on the underside of a boot. ‘I meant my other brother, minister. Now, if you will all leave me, I wish to undertake my afternoon meditation ritual. Do go ahead and make all the usual necessary arrangements to repel the invaders.’
Stunned silence greeted this extraordinary response.
After a pause, during which the heavy, anxious breathing of several generals could be clearly heard, Queen Mandodhari stepped forward. ‘Is that all you have to say, my lord? We are facing the possibility of defeat against the greatest threat that has ever confronted rakshasakind, and you wish to undertake your afternoon meditation ritual?’
‘Yes,’ Ravana rumbled in a sonorous tone. ‘One must keep up one’s rituals regardless of all distractions.’
Mandodhari looked genuinely puzzled. ‘Is that what you consider this situation to be? A distraction?’
‘Yes, my dear,’ Ravana said, yawning with two heads and making no attempt to even conceal his boredom. ‘A tedious, inane, irrelevant distraction.’
A chorus of anxious whispers spread like butterflies around the chamber. Mandodhari stepped closer to the vaulting dais, the silver anklets on her shapely ankles tinkling as she walked across the black marble floor. ‘And why is that?’
Ravana looked down at her as if peeved that she actually expected an answer. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘If it was I wouldn’t be asking, would I?’ She gestured at the roomful of anxious warlords. ‘Pardon me, but I am not as well versed in the craft of war as these gentlemen. Pray, do explain to me why this situation, which seems pressing and near disastrous to my guileless eyes, is such an irrelevance to you, my lord?’
Ravana sighed and shook two heads sleepily, then nodded wearily. ‘Very well, then. It is unfortunate that Indrajit’s arrows were unsuccessful. But no doubt this is the result of more sorcery on Rama’s part. As are the rumours among our troops and the confusion in their minds—all evidence of his continued sorcery. I have our royal wizards at work on this problem already and it will be redressed very shortly. As for the enemy advancing, well, I think you will all agree that my brother Kumbhakarna is more than sufficient to repel any and all comers—in fact, he’s capable of destroying their entire army on his own, wouldn’t you agree, my queen? And then there is still Indrajit and all you other great warriors to contend with. Not to mention the fact that I have yet to enter the fray and have not even fired a single arrow as of yet. That is why I require to undertake my afternoon meditation ritual, to prepare myself.’
‘And will you?’ Mandodhari asked.
Ravana regarded her for a moment. ‘Will I what?’
‘Fire a single arrow? Or more?’
He smiled then, with several of his heads at once. ‘I began this war. I shall end it.’
He rose to his feet and said, in that manner which Supanakha found simultaneously arrogant and attractive: ‘And I know only one way to end a war—by winning it. Does anybody here doubt that I shall emerge the victor in this conflict? If you do, then say so now. Otherwise, get the devil out of here and go do your jobs, as I shall do mine. We have an enemy to destroy, and a war to win. Let’s not waste time standing around here bickering like old women.’
At his words, the entire room erupted into activity. In moments, everyone had exited hurriedly. Supanakha noted that several looked relieved and more confident than when they had entered, but the majority still appeared ill at ease and confused.
Mandodhari remained standing where she was, at the foot of the dais.
‘I shall go and pray for you to be triumphant on the field today,’ she said.
‘Then you do believe I will triumph?’ he asked quietly.
‘Should I have reason to doubt it?’ she asked in an even quieter tone.
‘Have you ever known me to fail before?’
‘I have never known you to act this way over a mortal woman.’
‘This war is over a mortal man, not a woman. The woman is only a tool.’
‘I see,’ she said. ‘Then why not return her now and resolve that issue?’
‘All issues will be resolved soon. With the end of this war.’
‘People are saying things.’
‘It is what people do.’
‘But this is different. They are saying you are acting oddly. Confused. Erratic. They say you are hardly seen in person. They say you are indulging in arcane sorceries that even the court wizards fear to speak about. They say omens are everywhere, indicating the destruction of our country, our kingdom, our race. They say that Rama is not the evil villain he is made out to be, but a misunderstood hero who is the righteous one in this conflict. They say we are the villains to oppose him.’
Ravana shrugged. ‘I said that this is a misunderstanding. But now it is a misunderstanding that can only be resolved by finishing this war. And I intend to finish it, one way or another. Let people say what they will. I can only do what I must. That is my dharma.’
‘Your dharma?’ She shook her head. ‘They also
say that Rama is a warrior of dharma, and that we are the ones fighting against dharma. They say that is why Indrajit’s arrows did not kill him, because Lord Indra himself sent Garuda down to earth in the guise of a cloud of sparrows to resurrect Rama and Lakshman. And this is evidence that the devas, although bound by their ancient vows to you and compelled to serve you in your war, are in fact favourable to Rama and his forces and will subvert your every move to ensure your loss and his victory.’
He stepped down from the dais, taking his time, his impressive bulk dominating the chamber, a fitting figure for a room filled with magnificent statuary and art. He looked like the king he was. When he was on the same level as Mandodhari, he reached out slowly, gently even, and took her hands in his own. Even she looked surprised at this action. It was not a very Ravanalike gesture.
‘You have told me all that the people say and the people think and the people believe. Now tell me what you believe.’
And he looked deep into her eyes, waiting for her answer.
The devil, Supanakha thought, curling her tail in the alcove in which she sat, he has truly changed, he has. Either that, or he is giving the most excellent performance of his life, and that is saying something, given that I am one of the finest actors of our time!
Mandodhari tried to shift her eyes away, caught off guard by the simple directness and gentleness of his query. But to ignore or avoid it would be as good as a reply in itself and she was too intelligent to make that mistake. She forced herself to return Ravana’s look levelly. Sighed deeply. And admitted the truth. ‘I believe that you are my husband, and the master of Lanka. And that in all you do, you keep the welfare of this nation and race uppermost. Even if it serves your own purpose, it also serves the purpose of the rakshasa people. And that is why, however distasteful some of your acts may be to me personally, however much I disagree with your decisions and choices individually, as a whole I endorse you completely and support you with all my might and my strength. And I shall continue to do so until death parts us.’
He looked at her a moment longer, then bent down and kissed her. Supanakha craned her neck, trying to see which face he had used, but it was impossible to tell for sure from this angle. The first one on the right rack? Or was it the second one on the left rack? Damn. If she had known he was going to do that, she would have taken up a better spot.
Then it was over, and he was holding his wife in his arms, so tenderly that Supanakha could scarcely believe that this was the same Ravana who enjoyed servicing several dozen rakshasis on a given night, and treated them all like they were whores of the lowliest class. And what was that bit about dharma? Ravana and dharma? She scratched behind her ear with a half-extended talon. Something odd was going on here, that much was certain.
‘Continue believing and supporting me a little while longer then, my queen,’ he said softly. ‘It is all I ask.’
***
After Mandodhari had left the chamber, Ravana glanced up at the alcove where Supanakha reclined. ‘You can come down now, my cousin.’
She scowled, but descended quickly and lithely.
He looked at her contemplatively. ‘I trust I did not hurt you overmuch when I struck you in the chariot. But it was necessary to gain the mortal woman’s trust and to make a point to her.’
Was he really apologising to her? Impossible! Aloud she said archly, ‘Mandodhari was right, you are obsessed with that woman.’
He gestured dismissively. ‘It hardly matters now. Things are coming to an end.’
‘So I see.’ She looked around as she stalked the floor slowly. ‘I am trying to imagine Rama occupying this chamber as King of Lanka.’
He chuckled. ‘You will not succeed in provoking me today, my dear. I am not that Ravana you could once rely on to tease and arouse.’
She glanced up at him sharply. What did he mean? Had he read her mind just now? She knew he could, but never knew when he actually did so. But more importantly, what did he mean by that?
‘Who are you, then? Rama Chandra of Ayodhya?’
He laughed appreciatively. ‘Nicely put. Now, enough banter. I have a small chore for you. A little charade I wish you to enact.’
She swished her tail from side to side. ‘Who do you wish me to play this time? You? I could do a better job than you’re doing right now!’
He only managed a tiny humourless grin at that. ‘Actually, I had in mind a role you’re much better suited to play. I believe you’ve even played it successfully once before, and fooled none other than Rama himself, if only for a while.’
She pricked her ears up. Could he possibly mean … ?
‘Yes, my dearest cousin. I wish you to take the guise of Sita for a little demonstration I have planned. This time, however, you needn’t worry that you’ll be found out. Because you’ll only be seen from afar. And only for a brief while.’
TWELVE
They were ready to attack Lanka when Lakshman pointed upwards at the sky. Rama glanced up, hoping to see Hanuman returning, but it turned out to be Ravana’s golden flying chariot again. This time, the lord of Lanka had altered the vehicle—or commanded it to alter itself, more likely—to display only a single level. And from what Rama could make out at this distance, there were only a handful of people riding in it. He watched as it came closer, much closer than it had before, and descended low enough so that he could see the people riding within as clearly as he could see Angad and Sugreeva on the field ahead, supervising the formation of ranks for the advance.
There were only two persons in the Pushpak. Ravana himself. And Sita.
Rama and Lakshman exchanged a glance. Rama knew what Lakshman meant by that look: What is that devil up to now? He wondered the same thing, but didn’t waste time speculating. He had a feeling he would find out soon enough.
When Ravana’s voice rang out, Rama had been expecting it for several moments. It was the only reason for the rakshasa to halt the flying chariot at such a place, directly before him, and hovering over the middle of the field, perfectly placed to be visible to all of Rama’s forces as well as to Lanka’s troops by the walls of the capital city. The voice was a booming baritone, amplified somehow through Ravana’s sorcery, for once again the tide had turned and a new chapter had begun in the annals of the war: anything was possible next, from sorcery to treachery.
‘Rama Chandra of Ayodhya,’ said the voice that so many had feared for so long. ‘You have committed genocide against the asura races at Mithila, you have slaughtered innocent rakshasas and other asuras on countless occasions, you have ravished and tortured and mutilated my sister Supanakha, and killed her brothers, you have conspired with Sugreeva the Usurper and on his behalf murdered his brother Vali, the rightful vanar king of Kiskindha. Your crimes are countless, your offences beyond measure, and now, by invading Lanka and attacking my people without rightful provocation or cause, you have proved yet again that you are a tyrant with an infinite capacity for cruelty. You are an enemy of dharma, and so it is only fitting that you be judged by the laws of dharma itself.’
Nala, who was the nearest to the brothers, looked up angrily and shouted. ‘How dare he! Rama, you must stop him from speaking more lies and deceit. Cut him down with your celestial astras.’
Several hundred other voices echoed Nala’s sentiments, shouting angry threats and retorts at the vahan hovering above them.
Rama replied steadily. ‘If I attack him now, it will be perceived that I did not wish him to relate my alleged crimes and sought to shut him up. I must let him continue to the very end. After that, I shall take action if necessary.’ He called out to his people, his voice carried across the field by instant word of mouth. ‘Let him speak!’
Lakshman nodded. ‘The more lies he speaks, the more he strengthens our cause.’
‘Wisely spoken, my brother,’ Rama said.
But Ravana did more than speak next.
Instead, he turned and grasped Sita by the shoulders. At that, both Rama and Lakshman lost their composure. To see Ravan
a so much as touch Rama’s wife, to see her wriggling in his grip, and his muscular arms grasping her forcefully with power enough to crush her to death in an instant, was more than either one could bear. This was beyond lies and insults; this was an affront to the dignity of Sita and a mortal threat to her.
At once, Rama spoke the shloka of incantation and the Bow of Vishnu appeared in his grasp, glowing blue even in the bright afternoon light.
‘This is the reason you came to Lanka, is it not?’ Ravana’s voice boomed. ‘To recover this mortal harlot of yours to whom you would not even give the status of wife? This woman who seduced me and persuaded me to help her flee your tyranny by bringing her to Lanka where she would be safe from your wicked treatment? And now I find that in fact she is in league with you, and has been all along. That both of you devised this ingenious plan to dupe me, exploiting my sense of dharma and fair play. In fact, she is your mate in the commission of wrongdoing. Your partner in evil. It has taken me far too long to understand this and to recognise her for what she truly is. But now I know. And knowing her true evil nature, I will not let her survive to dupe other unsuspecting males and provoke other needless wars. Too many have died already. You have rejected my previous efforts to make peace and consistently thwarted every attempt to parley. Now I ask you one final time, before all your forces as well as mine, do you agree to yield here and now, and return home across the ocean with your army?’
Lakshman clenched his sword so tightly that his fist turned white. Had it been any other metal but steel, it would probably have bent. As it was, the imprint of his fingers would certainly be embedded permanently in the grip of the weapon. ‘It is a trick, Rama. Do not listen to him or answer. Fire your arrow now. Destroy him!’
‘I cannot,’ Rama said softly but fiercely, even as his heart agreed with Lakshman. Shouting as loudly as he could, he replied: ‘If you wish this war to end here and now, rakshasa, then you have but to release Sita. Hand her over to me this instant, and I promise you I will return with my forces, never to return to this land again. But first take your hands off my wife and face me like a man, you craven!’
RAMAYANA Part 3_PRINCE AT WAR Page 85