However, their attempts to provoke him had just the opposite effect on Ravana. He would not tolerate any criticism of Mandodari and he ordered them to leave him alone. He prowled the far-flung corners of his kingdom, venting his rage on the weak and the young, destroying ashrams and performing dark rituals to augment his powers. Everywhere he went, he looked for a challenger, someone he could defeat to reaffirm his supremacy in the eyes of the world.
On one of his rampages, Ravana heard of Indra’s son, the vanara king Vali, who ruled undefeated in Kishkinda. They said that Vali’s favourite sport was to toss huge mountains in the air and catch them again in his arms. Vali was also armed with a boon by which he gained half his enemy’s strength when he faced him in combat.
Unfazed by what he had heard, Ravana resolved to kill Vali by stealth while the vanara offered worship to Surya on the shores of the four seas. He crept up behind him when Vali began his prayers by the southern ocean. But Indra’s son sensed him approaching and trapped Ravana’s neck under his arm while he continued with his rituals. When he had completed his ablutions, Vali rose into the skies like Garuda, with Ravana still pinioned under his arm, and flew to the western ocean. The rakshasa flailed desperately, trying to escape, but was unable to do so. Still gripping him, Vali flew to the northern and the eastern seas, submerging Ravana when he stood waist-deep in the water and chanted his mantras. His worship completed, Vali flew to Kishkinda and there dropped the rakshasa to the ground, pretending to notice him only then.
‘O, a toy for Angada!’ he exclaimed, reducing Ravana in size so that he could tie him on top of his son’s cradle.
The Lankapati realized that he would never succeed in freeing himself from this mighty vanara and decided to throw himself at his mercy. ‘O king!’ he said. ‘Your strength and your flight through the air have left me dumbfounded. I erred in thinking that I could kill you by deceit and have realized that it would be foolish to have you as my enemy. Let us be allies, great Vali. Let us fight no more until the end of time.’
The magnanimous Vali laughed heartily on hearing this and embraced him in friendship. He gave Ravana the respect due to an honoured guest and showered him with rare gifts.
When he returned to his own kingdom, Ravana chose to interpret this encounter and the earlier one with Kartavirya in a manner that suited his own conceit. He claimed that these were victories rather than defeats, for he had managed to neutralize his biggest foes. Now he could rule unimpeded, without fear of defeat.
The rakshasa preened and postured, and paraded a bevy of beautiful women he had seized in his rampages around the world. Mandodari spent her days shedding bitter tears, experiencing his petulance for the first time. Why could he not understand that her refusal to perform the yagna with him was based on her love and her fear for his life? What if he replaced her in his affections with another woman? She could not survive his rejection . . . She would die!
5
Cursed
Ravana soon began to enjoy his old life, indulging in debauched amusements. ‘This is the way an emperor should live!’ he told himself. ‘Besotted by my new wife, I suppressed my natural instincts and led an arid life. But did Mandodari appreciate my sacrifice? No. She grew so complacent that she spurned my desire for a daughter. I love her still, no doubt, but will not give up my pleasures anymore. She must see the error of her ways before I accept her again.’
At times though, he recalled her face when he had declared that he would cast her aside for a more beautiful woman. He had seen the blood drain out of her face in shock. She had been a devoted wife after all and had indulged his every whim, except for one. Her refusal this time too stemmed from concern for his life. Mandodari watched over him now with the same care that Pulastya had shown during his childhood. And he knew deep in his heart that he could never be happy when he was away from his frog princess.
However, Ravana soon chased away these uncomfortable thoughts and told himself that he had done nothing wrong. It was Mandodari who should make the first conciliatory move. He could never surrender to anyone, least of all a woman.
The rakshasa now focused his resentment on families that enjoyed the love that he himself had lost. He amused himself by separating wives from their husbands and children, crushing their protests in his bed or winning them over with his gifts. He abducted and defiled young girls and gave full vent to his hedonistic impulses.
His grandfather Pulastya came to him one day and reminded him of the days when his mind had been unsullied. ‘You curbed your senses, performed penances and acquired boons that helped you conquer the realms,’ the sage said. ‘But alas, your senses are now taking their revenge by controlling you.’
Ravana was respectful to Pulastya while he was with him, but once he had returned to his ashram, he unleashed his wickedness once more.
On one such expedition, he was attracted by a bright glow radiating from the sacred Pushkara forest. He descended to the ground in his vimana, eager to find the source of this light. It was here that his fate caught up with him, in the form of the enchanting Vedavati.
Vedavati was a young tapasvini meditating upon Vishnu in order to be united with him. She was none other than Goddess Lakshmi born on earth as the daughter of King Kushadhwaja. The king in his conceit had stopped worshipping the goddess who had blessed him with good fortune. An angry Lakshmi had left him, leaving him prey to calamities and loss. The rains failed and the land dried up, the royal treasury became empty, his enemies attacked and the king was driven from his throne and kingdom. Kushadhwaja then embarked on a severe penance to placate the goddess. She finally took pity on him and promised that she would be born as his daughter.
Soon afterwards, the king’s wife gave birth to a miraculous child who chanted the Vedas as soon as she was born. Hence, they named her Vedavati, and with her blessings they regained their fortunes and their kingdom. The goddess, having kept her promise, left the palace to begin severe penances in the forest, wishing to return to her lord in Vaikunta. This was where Ravana chanced upon her.
He saw the divine maiden who glowed with the lustre of a loftier realm and was spellbound by her incredible beauty. Her garb was simple but her face and form were so lovely that he grew dazzled and lovelorn.
‘Who are you, fair maiden? An apsara or a goddess? What do you do in this fierce forest, all alone?’ he asked. But Vedavati’s eyes remained closed and her lips continued to chant the sacred mantras. ‘Marry me and be my queen,’ Ravana persisted, growing more impatient by the moment. ‘I am Ravana, king of Lanka, and I offer you a life befitting your youth and beauty.’
Vedavati’s eyes flew open and rage shimmered in them. ‘How dare you address me in such terms?’ she asked, her voice fierce. ‘I am Princess Vedavati and I will marry no one but the lord of the universe, the great Vishnu himself. Leave my presence at once, asura.’
‘You are speaking to none other than the lord of the universe, foolish maiden,’ Ravana scoffed. ‘Your Vishnu is nothing compared to my strength and my wealth. Give up your fruitless penance and come with me so that you may enjoy pleasures beyond imagination. Sweet Vedavati, your lips are meant to be kissed, your body to be caressed . . .’
‘Raging fool!’ Vedavati cried out, cutting him short. ‘You rant without knowing that you face certain doom!’
‘If you will not come with me willingly, I must take you by force,’ snarled Ravana as he grabbed her by her hair. Vedavati rose to her feet, her wrath surging forth in a wave towards him. Her hand chopped down like a sword to lop off the tresses that he had touched.
‘You have defiled me, rakshasa,’ she said, ‘and you will soon face the consequences of your lust.’
He leapt back as a fierce fire rose between them. Vedavati stepped into the fire, her heart fixed on the radiant lord reclining on Adisesha.
Thwarted by a woman again, Ravana exploded into a frenzy. He ravaged the forest, killing the innocent animals that roamed there. Then he soared through the realms looking for a woman who
would satisfy the desire that Vedavati had aroused in him. This time, an apsara caught his eye—Rambha, the queen of the apsaras.
Rambha had been sent to earth to disrupt Sage Vishvamitra’s penance as it threatened Indra’s throne. But Vishvamitra had grown angry when she interrupted his meditation and cursed her to become a stone for a thousand years. The unfortunate Rambha had languished as a stone, waiting to be released from her present state and from her life as an apsara when she was used by the gods to attain their own ends. She dreamed of a gallant lover who would desire her for herself and cherish her forever. Would she ever be so fortunate?
And then, when she was finally restored to life, the first man she encountered was the gallant Nalakubara, the son of Kubera. His ardent wooing and noble manner convinced her that he was the man she had been waiting for during her endless vigil. They were soon married, only to have their idyll interrupted by the vile Ravana.
A full moon shed its silvery light on the celestial garden where Rambha was gathering fragrant yellow champaka flowers to make a garland for her beloved. Ravana could hear the lilting songs of love sung by heavenly singers. And before him was a beauty whose charms had captivated the gods. How then could a rakshasa resist her? Rambha was slender yet curvaceous, delicate yet sensuous. Her shapely limbs were golden, anointed with sandal paste. Her dark hair flowed like a torrent down to her hips, glinting with white jasmine blossoms, like the midnight blue sky studded with stars. Delighted to come upon such a prize, Ravana floated lightly to the ground and obstructed her path. The doe-eyed maiden glanced at him and joined her hands together in respect.
But respect was not what the asura craved. ‘Who are you and where are you headed, so beautifully adorned?’ he asked in his resonant voice.
‘Do you not know me, great king?’ asked Rambha. ‘I am Rambha, the wife of Nalakubara, your brother’s son. I am on my way to meet my husband.’
Ravana watched entranced at the way her lips moved and the graceful sway of her body as she spoke. Blinded by lust, he ignored her words and stepped closer and grabbed her hand. ‘You may not go anywhere!’ he growled. ‘Stay with me and cool my body that is heated with passion. We will attain bliss together, uniting our skills in the magical arts of Kama.’
Rambha struggled to free herself, her eyes filling with helpless tears. ‘It is your duty to protect me, O king!’ she said. ‘It is not dharma to treat your daughter-in-law in this fashion.’
‘You speak as if you are Nalakubara’s wife alone,’ he leered. ‘Are you not an apsara who shares her bed with many men at Indra’s behest?’
The rakshasa seized her trembling body in rough arms, silenced her protest with cruel lips and took her by force. Finally satiated, he flew away with a triumphant smile. Soon, Mandodari would hear about his tryst with the beauteous apsara. She would be hurt, no doubt. He felt sorry for a moment, but then his arrogance took over. Did his queen think that there was no one else to satisfy his passion? He had been a slave to her love and she had spurned him. She had to suffer now until she realized what a great prize she had lost.
A distraught Rambha carried the story to Nalakubara who pronounced a terrible curse on the king. ‘If Ravana should ever violate a woman again, his head shall shatter into a thousand pieces,’ he said.
And the gods whispered, ‘Tathastu!’
Outside Ravana’s palace, his guards cried out in fear as the royal flagstaff splintered and toppled with a crash. Mandodari woke up with a moan and heard the curse thundering against the walls. She was soon informed of Ravana’s misdeeds. His other queens gloated that she too had been cast aside, just as they had been when Ravana had married Mandodari.
‘Did you think that your beauty was so dazzling that he would remain forever under your spell?’ they mocked. ‘What was so special about you that he should give up his old ways?’
Mandodari could not help but feel guilty that she had not been able to stop his downward spiral. Perhaps if she had agreed to the yagna, he would have remained faithful. With his powers and her prayers, they could have challenged fate. But she had been obstinate and had ended up losing him entirely. An uncertain prophecy had vanquished the certainty of love. She had been a fool and betrayed the very cause for which she had been born.
It was Kumuda who finally roused her from her anguish by appealing to her intellect. ‘Is the king totally free of blame, my queen?’ she asked. ‘He forgets his promises to you and refuses to acknowledge the love that prompted your decision. You knew that his well-being was more important than his desire for a daughter. What has happened now is merely the result of his uncontrolled lust.’
When the maid left her so that she could rest awhile, Mandodari pondered sadly about her future. From being the beloved wife of an emperor, she had descended to being the discarded mistress, the object of mockery and pity. She felt hurt, angry, desperate and heartbroken—all at the same time. More than anything else, she felt betrayed. He had violated her trust in him. But was it his fault or hers that she had believed him when he had probably sworn eternal love to each of the beauties he had wooed? Not Ravana alone, she too had been vain in thinking that she was superior to his other wives. She felt a deep pain in the pit of her stomach as if he had physically assaulted her.
She dismissed her attendants and paced to and fro, reflecting on her dismal fate. She no longer had the strength to listen to tales of Ravana’s depravity or watch his headlong rush towards disaster. Maybe it would be better to die now than to agonize over his downfall. But the sages said that those who killed themselves would be condemned to endless suffering in naraka. And what of her sons who would be shattered at losing her? Her thoughts conjured up images of her firstborn, Meghanada, valiant Atikaya and her youngest child, Aksha . . . If she were to die now, they would come fully under the sinful sway of Ravana.
But her wounded heart forced her to return again and again to thoughts of death. Even naraka would be better than the life she was leading. Now there was nothing she could do and nothing to live for. She needed something that would kill her silently, without attracting anyone’s attention.
Poison. That was what she needed. Her mind flitted at once to the pot that was stored in a dark alcove in her bedchamber. Ravana had killed numerous ascetics and sages and stored their blood as a means to acquire their powers through occult rites. He had chosen to hide the pot in her antapura as her bedchamber was forbidden to everyone except him. He had warned her too to keep away from the potion, as it was the deadliest poison on earth.
‘I will drink this potion,’ resolved Mandodari, her face pale yet determined. ‘It is fitting that I should die by the fruits of Ravana’s sins, the darkest of his crimes. Maybe the shock of my death will bring him back to the path of virtue. If I cannot live for him, I can at least die for him. My love then will not be futile.’
Her eyes overflowed with tears as she lifted the pot in her hands.
6
Torment
Mandodari closed her eyes tight as she tilted the pot and poured some of its contents into her mouth. The taste and smell of the blood, together with the horror she felt at what she was doing made her retch dreadfully. She stifled her cries with a supreme effort of will and put down the pot with trembling hands. But a fierce moan erupted unbidden when she wiped her lips and saw the dark blood on her hand. What had she done? How could she have drunk this awful brew? And why was she alive still? She had willingly sought death despite her fears that she would be cast into a world of unending torture.
Perhaps she needed to drink more of the vile potion, for she could not stop now. She had to complete what she had started before she was discovered by her maids or by her husband. Mandodari shuddered. She knew that Ravana would suffer immensely when she died, for he did love her. But he would also regard her action as an affront to his supremacy, for he regarded her as his possession, to live or die as he commanded.
What if he came in now before the deed was complete? Perhaps he would kill her with a fierce blow so tha
t he could tell himself that her death had been determined by him. Or perhaps he would use his dark powers to revive her, just so that he could torment her every day.
She lifted the pot with a trembling hand to her lips again, only to have it snatched away. Had Ravana arrived, summoned here by her thoughts? She whirled around, bracing herself to confront his fury.
‘How could you do this, my queen? Why should you sacrifice your life to pay for the king’s sins?’ It was Kumuda who stood before her, her eyes overflowing with tears. She wiped Mandodari’s lips with a wet cloth in a desperate bid to erase the effects of the poison that was even now coursing through her body.
Fond Kumuda, so young and so loving. The daughter I will never have, thought Mandodari. I am happy that it will be her face that I see before I die.
‘Permit me to call the physician, my queen!’ Kumuda said desperately. ‘It is not too late to save you.’
Mandodari reached for her hand and held it tight. ‘Allow me to die, Kumuda,’ she pleaded. ‘I cannot stand by and watch as the curses snatch him away. I am unable to shed my guilt for spurning him when I knew well that his ego could not tolerate such a blow.’
‘But he is the one who sinned against a wife who will die rather than see him suffer!’ Kumuda replied fiercely. Her clear young eyes discerned the truth that her king could not.
‘If you love me, you will obey my last wish!’ said Mandodari even as she felt a strange languor envelop her mind and body.
Ravana, who was far away in patala, caught up in the embrace of a lustrous naga princess, was overcome by a strange feeling. He pushed the princess away, his eyes drawn to a dark corner of the bedchamber where he could see a luminous figure. Was it Mandodari? He looked closer, but now he could only see the curtains fluttering fiercely in the wind.
Prem Purana Page 13