by Daljit Nagra
and back-stab the counter-party?’
Said Rama, ‘Sugreeva sought your mercy
instead you gave grief to a meek brother —’ ‘You won,’
said Bali, interrupting, ‘Sugreeva’s support
against Raavana?
Is like courting a rabbit to tame a lion …
One pleading word here
and I would have died
rucking to arrange on a platter this Raavana;
returning, safe
for your misfiring eyes, Sita.’ Lakshmana
stepped in, ‘Do not blame Rama. We promised
Sugreeva we’d keep back
whilst you brothers fought. You been brass neck:
you stole a kid brother’s wife, your sister-in-law!’
The sails of the wind were lifting
and eager to sail Bali away, but Bali puffed hard and,
‘Heyhey! Rama and Lakshmana,
is blind judgement! In our monkey
world is apt to take a brother’s
wife. Becomes my duty
to protect Ruma once
my brother scram. My kid
brother betrayed my trust.
Plotting against me and leaping
to the throne ahead of
my son, Angada. And took my
Tara to bed. You talking
incest … treachery?’
Said Rama, ‘Under my brother, Bharat’s reign in Ayodhya,
we are here to assist his rule by establishing peace
wherever we please.’
‘Human marital customs
are alien to us. What is
wedlock to us, hey? Our
monkey laws and ways
are not human customs
of those who come from
far-off, from Ayodhya.’
Said Rama, ‘I am aware of your monkey ways.
You own plenty insight to know right from wrong
but when you rule barbarously
it befalls on man to hunt wild animals.
Remember man is granted power
to trap in pits and with nets
whatever beast is a bane.’
‘Is an eye-opener
when my eyes are
closing.
A hunter kills me
if I’m edible or a
threat. Was I either,
hey? Lord Rama,
you are bent on
good deeds – I must take
death by your spear
as God’s own judgement.’
Bali’s last words,
‘Hey Angada …
my son …
make quick shift to the new …
seek peace with your un—’
In Bali’s dying, Rama said, ‘Fear not, great Bali.
Your son and your wife
are under my protection now.’
Rama handed back Ruma, to her husband, Sugreeva.
Rama watched them smiling,
watched them yo! and behold
whilst he shuffled off. But then he caught Tara’s stare,
‘Now you have trapped him hey, will you eat him?
Where is the good in parting two so in heaven with love.
O noble, noble man!’
Chapter Four: Monsoon Causing up to No Good
Rama grieves for Sita.
No animal stirred for the period. Period.
The sky rumbled and a golden lash
cut the sky for lightning. The earth on a wizened wind
sough song, was alliteratively bumbling big drops
from Indra’s kohl clouds,
was metaphorically raining constant cats and dogs!
In the room where he and Sita had slept, he became downcast.
He was stormed by pangs that uncertainty itself
and uncertainty of an outcome were drowning him in.
Mountain water rushing down with flesh and fowl
served to bring on greater guilt about his wife
and how she, from him, lay washed away …
Real or hallucinatory, between trees
peahens walking with their mates tormented him.
He who lived daily without eating. So lost in his thoughts
he did not even brush away a termite mound
growing about him.
Flaws coalesced in a mind abuzz as ever with his wife …
He chased his mind after a girl
in flowing silks for armour, with a bow of sugarcane
and flowers for arrows – how could she have felled him so
softly?
He could not handle the irony.
And fell upon the gravest point mankind attains
and couldn’t haul up his head from the mire.
Lakshmana saw it all and felt sad
and could have said: obey a father and lose a wife …
Instead Lakshmana interceded to groom his brother
for the formal mood, ‘Rama, as you once told me:
passion breeds mental chaos.
This desire, this passion – how far from duty
you are sinking. Rain that begets our earthly food –
must we not open our arms to it
and take on the storm or if we are sunk under … Let
the rain feed you with its own sweet harmony
so you shed worldly grief
so you become fortified for our spiritual observance.
How else win back Sita-jee?
Come, let us turn to our allies for support.’
‘O brother, Sita and I are but one heart.
If you tear us apart, what are we but bleeding for the rest …?’
What could Lakshmana reply but look outside.
Outside, season over, nature’s traffic
cheeped and jippered
with swans, cranes and other aquatic birds in aerial concourse,
new fish flexing about in the streams
and areca palms ripened their fruits in golden bunches
around flowers
whilst crocodiles spanned out in the sun.
Peacocks furled their tails and gave up their love games.
And Rama holding a white thumba flower
slowly managed his grief
whilst huffy Lakshmana marched to Kiskinda.
Lakshmana would find a baggy-eyed Sugreeva,
baggy clearly from too much partying with molasses wine,
with honey wine. Or so the sweet air implied.
Tara was sent at the palace gates
to receive and then with her fine words placate Lakshmana.
Sugreeva’s conscience was easily pricked about a mission
with the mega post-monsoon army he’d promised.
Chapter Five: Not so by Thiruvengadam
Sugreeva informs Hanuman about where he should search for Sita.
Sugreeva became himself and readied an army to locate Sita,
but first things first, where the heck is the enemy?
A search party was led by a nigh-on midget monkey,
Hanuman,
for only Hanuman could come up trumps.
Hanuman, that startling white-bodied, white-haired monkey
quietly memorised all the details Sugreeva imparted.
‘Hey Hanuman, you are my most trusted.
Report to me within thirty days where exactly Sita is captive.
Now absorb my words.
Head mostly southwards
but comb the land from west to east and down.
Go past the cloud-topping Vindhya mountain peaks
and search for Sita in every nook of the mountain ranges
then after that range check along the lovely rivers
of Bhagirathi, Sarayu and Kausiki
perhaps even afield to the Yamuna river
and the mountains in which it rises.
Then to the Sarasvati, the Sindhu and the Sona
with their jewel-sparkling waters,
and nearby is Mahi and then nearby
is Kalamahi
with its hilly and wooded banks.
Still no Sita?
Sweep across to Magadha’s great villages,
search in the kingdoms of Brahma-mala, Malava,
in Pundra and Anga; look where the silk worm is bred
and where silver is mined.
Then you will reach the range called Hemakuta
on whose gold-topped towers divine damsels descend
to spend their hours composing and singing lyrics
which lull even birds and beasts to sleep.
Listen hard, Hanuman. Do not let any holy spot
wobble your legs from the main task.
If you find yourself by that holiest mountain,
Thiruvengadam:
I say, stiffen up. Back off.
A visit to this spot is your instant
heaven but seek all reward after Sita is found.
Besides, how likely is Raavana
to be rooted at this sacred ladder?
Your time is limited. Tarry not, yo.
Look next in the hills, perhaps the hills of Mandara
where there are people with ears that are
curtains draping
down their body:
ears so long they lollop below their lips,
and peoples whose faces are made from iron
and hopping peoples who schlep about on a single leg.
All these peoples or what they are
eat only mammal flesh.
Next look where the beautiful gold-skin hunters
who are known as human tigers live –
they live underwater in hill and forest homes.
Still no Sita? Then veer for the island of Yava-dvipa
which can only be reached
by crossing over hills and seas,
and only you, my magnificent Hanuman, can make this trek.
Inside the mountains are many lions, tigers, elephants
and boars roaring the long sundial day
enchanted only by the echo of the din of their own sounds.
Yava-dvipa has seven kingdoms
where is mined gold and silver.
Look carefully among these terrifying islands
for here are enormous arsooras
that catch creatures by their shadows.
Then by nibbling on the shadow they nibble
throu
gh the
creature’s actual flesh!
Thereby is a mountain where is the greatest dancer.
Whilst she dances your ears will fill with erotic song.
Hema is her name. Hema will help you in,
but if you enter her mountain
you enter Death, yo,
for you cannot give her grooves the slip.
Your ears will be like bees gumped in the music’s honey.
And you will drop dead when her song drops off.
Do not nowhere near enter the shadow of Hema’s mountain
for the shadow goes against the sun
for that shadow is Hema’s crafted handiwork.
Then you will come upon a sea clad with serpents
where you will greet the blood-red waters
that are said to be redder even than the waters of Lohita
where live fierce Mandehas
who are huge as boulders
and who hang upside down from mountain peaks.
They are daily burnt by the sun
and they daily slip into the ocean
and then return to hang upside down
again, each day.
Soon you are at the ocean of pure water
where is said all will be floating at Time’s end.
Go on all fours or fly fast through this scape
for the sound here will be unbearable –
wailing creatures of the deep are heard
for they cannot bear to look at
the horse-faced son of Wrath-God
who is held trapped here. Who knows why all this happens?
Once out of the ocean you are at Jatarupa,
a mountain where lives a serpent
with a thousand heads nested atop its head.
Keep watching him for he is still: silent.
Yet when he moves he’s reared at you
before you knew he was there.
Past Jatarupa, there is a crevice clefting the earth –
peep down and you may glimpse the serpent Sesha
who is white like the moon. He upholds Earth on his coils.
Nobody can travel any further.
Beyond is the region where several gods roam –
no sun or moon is here but darkness only for mortal eyes.
This is as far as monkeys tread
for we do not know what is beyond
except is pure walkabout.’
Storing in his capacious monkey mind every detail,
diminutive Hanuman was ready for his biggest challenge.
Rama added, ‘You know not Sita but
you can observe her by her toe-nails
glowing red as rubies. Or observe her heels
for learned men have compared them to a quiver …’
Lost in sighs, Rama ceased his description.
Chapter Six: In Bird Brain
Hanuman seeks help in locating Sita.
For thirty days Hanuman’s army
scoured mountains and valleys,
passed impassable torrents and climbed
unclimbable crags, ran alongside temples with hidden
side-doors leading to heaven
and still Raavana and Sita
where are they?
Hanuman called despairing from a mountain tableland,
‘Great Jatayu, if you had not died
only your vision could have enlightened us now.’
At this, what seemed a vile looking raksassy
hobbled towards him with giant wings
all skin-marred, with guzzy feathers.
It spoke in a cut-glass voice,
‘I am the vulture Sampathi, Jatayu’s elder brother.
Long ago, we were parted
and now I hear him mentioned as being dead.
Who killed him? Who would kill my gentle brother?’
Hanuman explained how they had found Jatayu
dangling from trees and had buried him
offering several fat deer in sacrifice
to the spirit of the departed so Jatayu could find peace.
Relieved Sampathi explained how the brothers had been
parted,
‘… we would skim and float in the higher skies. One day
we flew higher than ever so we the heavens might glimpse.
We flew higher and crossed the path of Sun-God
who became vexed. Perhaps he assumed we were being
impudent.
He bore his full heat on us. I said to Jatayu,
fly away! I shielded him under my wings whilst he escaped.
My feathers, as you see are burnt. I tried flying away
but my propulsion flapped me to this peak.
I have been here unheard the while, gripping to dear life,
for my inner vision says redemption from the gods will come
when I hear Rama uttered within my earshot.’
At this, Hanuman and his army cried in one voice,
Rama Zindabad!
Sampathi’s feathers healed and as he rose
his wings were again
soft broad arches cruising through the effortless skies!
The feathery monarch heard about Hanuman’s mission
and recalled from aloft, ‘If it is Raavana you seek,
you have come too far east. He was carrying a woman back to
Lanka
and that is direct south.
My brain has divine powers and has sensed only this:
Raavana holding Sita captive in the Asoka gardens.
Now I must take my leave, I must return
to lead my tribe
since there is no Jatayu.’
Chapter Seven.one: Jawman
The army considers how to reach Lanka.
All you who would mock a fellow humanoid
by jesting how they’re a monkey,
I say it’s neither a fun-mock nor a wise-jest.
Now watch me show you how cussing a fellow
by calling them monkey
is dread ironic!
Listen to the true tale about wee Hanuman
whose army despaired at the great ocean between them
and Lanka. No flying monkey could make the perishing
journey.
Jambavan, the wise bear, whose army had recently
hooked up with Hanuman, spoke thus,
‘Youthful when I was, I leapt 200 yojanas high
and circumambulated
about Vishnu’s triple-stride through the universe.
Ancient as I am now, I can still leap up to 100 yojanas
but my upper-leap is shot with age.
One is here who can leap greater than I could ever.’
Angada stepped in, ‘It falls to none other
but I must attempt this leap.’
Jambavan bowed before the warrior,
saying,
‘Kings or a king-to-be, such as you are,
send servants whose honour is served best
by attending upon the duty. You are the darling and the boast,
we serve to defend our hope that is enshrined in you
and your king, King Sugreeva.
Look not around Hanuman. Who is the one
who alone can make the leap and live?
You only
