The Rise of Sivagami : Book 1 of Baahubali - Before the Beginning

by Anand Neelakantan

  ‘Oh, Prince, so many beautiful moments await you. Why don’t you join us tonight? We have a special guest today and you will make that two.’

  Mahadeva knew she was referring to Bijjala. And the familiar figure he had seen ducking in as he came could only be Bijjala’s slave Kattappa. He was confounded that his brother had allowed a slave to travel with him inside a palanquin. Lust made people do strange things, he thought. He realized that he would have to protect his brother’s secret. If the fat woman found out that it was Bijjala inside the palanquin, going to Kalika’s den, it would spread like wildfire in the city. And the slave would get punished for daring to travel with his master in a palanquin. Besides, what would the girl think about a Mahishmathi prince who frequented Kalika’s den? Wouldn’t she judge him too?

  ‘I am letting you go without punishment only because…’ Mahadeva searched for a reason.

  ‘Because?’ Keki smiled, nodding her head, taunting him.

  ‘Because…’ Mahadeva struggled. Nothing would come to his mind.

  ‘Because Your Highness is too kind,’ Keki filled in for him, and Mahadeva heaved a sigh of relief. That would have sounded stupid had he said it himself, but Keki made it sound not half as bad.

  Keki made a face at the fat woman, bowed low, and got into the palanquin. This time Mahadeva glimpsed Bijjala sitting with his face covered with his turban and Kattappa sitting with his head buried in his knees. Keki held up the curtain a tad longer than necessary, giving Mahadeva enough time to be sure. The eunuch blew a kiss at him as she drew the curtains. The bearers lifted up the palanquin and started moving. Their voices crying, ‘Ho-ho,’ dissolved in the air and the torchlight became a dot on the horizon.

  ‘Your Highness, may we plead your leave? It’s a long way to the orphanage,’ the old woman said.

  ‘Devi,’ Mahadeva said, ‘I will come with you so that you are not troubled anymore. Times are bad.’

  ‘Your Highness is too kind. If it is not too much trouble,’ the old woman replied.

  ‘Not at all,’ Mahadeva said. He extended his hands to take the bundle from Sivagami and said, ‘Devi, allow me.’ She moved away, leaving him stung. ‘I can help carry the bundle, devi,’ he said, hoping his desperation would not show in his voice.

  She had started walking without even bothering to look back. He ran behind her. She did not say anything when he took the bundle from her. He felt hurt that she did not thank him. Neither did she bow to him as a commoner should before a prince. The old woman chided her for allowing the prince to take her bundle, but she did not reply. She kept walking, with the old woman puffing and panting beside her. But the old woman had used the girl’s name—Sivagami—and for that, Mahadeva was grateful.

  The moon had painted the earth in ethereal silver and everything was bathed in its light. The river flowed quiet beside him. A nightingale sung from the groves. The drone of crickets sounded musical to his ears. Each blade of grass shone diamond-edged. Far away, Gauriparvat loomed, half in mist, half dissolved in the dark sky, aloof and divine.

  Sivagami, my Sivagami, he wanted to repeat her name. She was so near, that if he extended his hands he could touch her hair. The breeze that caressed her cheeks caressed his too. What more did he want? The bundle he held now had rested in her hands. She had pressed it close to her breast. It would have heard her heartbeat. The bundle carried her smell. He would hold it for her till the end of the world, he told himself, and felt silly. And happy.

  TWELVE

  Pattaraya

  Bhoomipathi Pattaraya’s chariot turned the last curve, on its way towards his home. Idiots! Pattaraya could not control his anger. He was surrounded by nincompoops and fools. He smacked his chariot driver’s head. ‘Why can’t they light the courtyard properly?’ Not that the poor driver was responsible for his guards not lighting the courtyard. Still, it felt good to vent his anger on someone. Every one of them was a shirker, everyone was after his money.

  He had been shocked to learn that the stones were still missing. Who had killed the dandakara that Pratapa had sent behind the slave Nagayya? The person had killed both and got away with the stones. His stones! Pattaraya gritted his teeth. He patted his waist-band. The one stone he had picked up when Nagayya was running away was still there. He would surprise his daughter Mekhala with that. She would be impressed.

  Pattaraya knew that it was a dangerous game he was playing. It could change the history of Mahishmathi. Pratapa and Rudra Bhatta would be here soon. They had to find a way out.

  He was puffing and panting as he entered his home. He kicked open the door, screaming, ‘Mekhala.’

  ‘Mekhala, Father is home,’ Pattaraya cried out as he untied a bunch of keys from the chain at his waist. There was no response from his daughter. Not that he expected it. She had outgrown the age of running to greet him on his arrival almost a decade back. He could hear her practising dance on the first floor.

  ‘Get a lamp, fast,’ he said when he heard the footsteps of his daughter finally coming down. He inserted a key into the decorated lock in a door. The door creaked open, revealing another trap door to the left.

  His daughter ran and fetched a lamp from the puja room. He opened the secret door that was cleverly concealed in the wall and took out a massive key to open a trap door under the carpet.

  ‘Father, do you need to do all this? We have enough and, in fact, more than enough,’ Mekhala said as she helped her father open the door.

  ‘I am doing everything for you, Mekhala,’ Pattaraya said with affection.

  ‘I don’t want you to do anything wrong, Father,’ Mekhala said as they stepped in. A flight of steps led into a damp basement under his living room.

  ‘Nothing is right or wrong, my daughter. It is all about how you view life,’ Pattaraya said as they climbed down.

  His daughter walked beside him with the lamp. Light scattered on the steps, illuminating its uneven edges.

  His footsteps echoed in the dark passageway. A spider ran across his path. The musty smell of the room assaulted his senses.

  ‘This place stinks,’ he heard Mekhala say.

  Pattaraya was puffing and panting by the time he reached the basement. As he walked, he kept observing the floor. Except for the fading footprints, made by him during his last visit, the floor was covered with a finger-deep layer of dust. Every time he was careful to take a different path inside the chamber so that the footprints would mark each visit they had made. Once a year, he would clean the floor with his own hands—not a job a vaishya would do usually, but it was a part of his elaborate security arrangement. He did not want to trust any servant with even the sight of the place where he kept his treasures. Once he counted the treasure and closed the safe, he would again spread sawdust on the floor. There were cobwebs all over the uneven roof and a few dangled over the huge iron safe. He never allowed anyone to clean it. There was dust over the handle and the padlock. It gave him some satisfaction that no one had touched it after his last visit.

  He inserted the foot-long key inside the keyhole and used both his hands to turn it. The safe fought back for some time but finally gave in. With a loud noise, the door snapped open.

  ‘Oh my god,’ Mekhala exclaimed as the light from the torch reflected on the pile of gold ornaments, rubies, diamonds, pearl necklaces and gold bracelets inside the iron safe. Edges of gold coins shone through the calico sacks stacked inside. A huge golden peacock fixed atop the crown of a five-foot lamp stared back at them with its ruby eyes. For a moment, Pattaraya forgot about all his troubles. His chest swelled with pride. When he had started the business, he had inherited a few measly copper coins lodged in the dark corners of the safe.

  He was a lad of fourteen at that time, with a sick mother to look after. They lived in a crumbling old mansion built by his great grandfather. It had been a struggle of three-and-a-half decades to reach where he was now. He had achieved a lot.

  ‘Nanna, I am getting scared, this is too much, much too much,’ Mekhala said, bri
nging him back to the mouldy dampness of his basement.

  Pattaraya took out a stone from his waist-band and held it before Mekhala. He waited for her reaction.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘Look at this stone. Have you seen anything like this before?’ he gloated.

  ‘Of course I have. Plenty of them too. In summer, when the river dries out, the riverbed is full of such stones,’ Mekhala said with a smile.

  ‘Oh, just a river stone, eh?’ Pattaraya smiled and took the lamp from his daughter’s hand. He held it near the stone. Slowly it started throbbing with a pale blue colour. Pattaraya stood, watching the amazed reaction of his beloved daughter. Her face turned blue as the stone started glowing. Soon the entire room was sparkling blue. He dropped it onto Mekhala’s palm and watched his pretty daughter’s face in the ethereal colour.

  ‘Impressive,’ a voice said. Mekhala looked behind Pattaraya and screamed. The stone fell from her hands and rolled on the ground. In the flickering blue light, a ghoulish face grinned at Pattaraya. Startled, he stepped back.

  You…you here?’ Pattaraya stuttered. His hands trembled and the lamp he was holding shook, casting shadows that danced around the room.

  ‘Impressive,’ the ghoul said as it entered the safe. The diamonds and pearls inside caught the blue hue of the Gaurikanta and sparkled.

  The ghoul weighed a necklace in his hand and turned to Mekhala. ‘Don’t stare at me like that, young woman. I feel shy. I am no ghoul, but a poor dwarf, devi,’ the dwarf grinned and bowed.

  Mekhala looked at the dwarf in amazement as he scooped up some pearls from the floor of the safe and let them slip through his stubby fingers. They tinkled around the iron floor.

  ‘Congratulations on your ill-gotten wealth, fat man. You are an inspiration.’ The dwarf’s voice echoed in the basement.

  Pattaraya stood wavering on his feet.

  ‘How the hell did you get here?’ he demanded of the dwarf who was eyeing his daughter.

  ‘You have not only amassed great wealth, you have made a beautiful daughter too, fat man. She looks like a sculpture in the temple. With a narrow waist, rounded breasts, wide hips…’

  Mekhala blushed blue and Pattaraya gritted his teeth in anger.

  ‘Shut up, you bastard,’ Pattaraya screamed. He gestured for Mekhala to move away. The Gaurikanta was returning to its dull slate-grey colour.

  ‘Oh Pattaraya, you are using filthy language before your daughter. Is this the way you are bringing her up? Apologies, devi, for making your father angry and inciting him to use swear words. Your lovely ears should not hear such language, even if it is from your father. Especially if it is from your father. He has one filthy tongue. Oh, we have not been introduced. I do not think your father will do that, since he seems very angry with me. So let me introduce myself,’ the dwarf said. ‘I am Khanipathi Hidumba. Your father’s nephew, a bit distant and all that, but never mind that. A minor bhoomipathi, half a man and half a noble. My stature may be small, but my heart is big.’ The dwarf bowed low again and smiled. His golden canine tooth glittered in the lamp light.

  Pattaraya pushed his daughter out of the way and approached the dwarf who was now weighing a gold necklace in his hand.

  ‘Why have you come here? You were supposed to have gone to—’ he paused.

  ‘Directly to Kalika’s den. And wait for you there in that house of sin,’ the dwarf said with a smile. Pattaraya eyed his daughter. He should have been more careful.

  ‘How the hell did you get inside?’ Pattaraya asked, quickly changing the topic.

  ‘I am surprised. I thought you knew…’ the dwarf looked at his misshapen legs. ‘There is a new technique called walking. You put one step in front of another and you find that it can take you a long way.’

  ‘Not any more, Chandala. You are done with your walking days.’ Pattaraya slammed the door of the safe shut. He struggled with the door knob. The key fell down. He could hear the dwarf banging from inside.

  ‘Mekhala,’ he said, as he fumbled with the keys, ‘the dwarf is lying. Don’t believe him. Do you think I could ever…’

  ‘Nanna, this is not something a daughter should have to hear about her father,’ Mekhala’s voice trembled.

  Pattaraya stood wiping beads of sweat from his forehead with his palm. Bloody dwarf, he cursed silently as he bent down to pick the Gaurikanta from the floor.

  ‘He was lying, Mekhala. And he is not going to get away with it. Let him be locked down here and feel the terror for at least a week.’ Pattarya turned to the safe and started putting a double safety lock on it.

  ‘Nanna,’ Mekhala called, her voice betraying her terror.

  Pattaraya finished locking the dwarf inside the safe. When he heard Hidumba banging the door from inside, he kicked the iron door and said, ‘Serves you right, dwarf. In a few days, I shall serve what is left of you to my dogs. Be quiet till then.’

  ‘Nanna…’ Mekhala called again.

  ‘I am not going to show any mercy, daughter. He dared enter my house and slander me. He says I go to whorehouses. I, the best of all men. He has to pay the price.’

  ‘Nannaaa…’ his daughter screamed. When Pattaraya turned, the key fell from his hand. There were two men inside the chamber. Similar-looking, each had a dagger at his daughter’s neck.

  Pattaraya rushed towards them, but one of the giants brandished a knife at him. He pointed at the door of the safe. Pattaraya fumbled around, looking for the key. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Remembering that he had dropped the key, he went down on all fours, trying to find it. His daughter was screaming. When he looked at Mekhala, he saw a trickle of blood oozing from her fair neck.

  ‘Please…please…’ he pleaded as he struggled to find the key. Finally he spotted it and hurriedly opened the door and let the dwarf out.

  ‘Well, well,’ said Hidumba as he waddled out of the safe. ‘Great welcome at your home, fat man. Wish I had had your daughter with me inside. Next year we could have celebrated the jatakarma of your grandson. You missed a golden opportunity.’

  His thugs laughed at his crude joke. Pattaraya saw the dwarf had stuffed his waist-pouch with rubies and diamonds. The dwarf laughed, looking at the impotent rage in Pattaraya’s eyes.

  ‘You were in a hurry to open the safe, Uncle. You did not give me enough time to take whatever I wanted. Never mind. Oh, by the balls of the holy bull, my boys have been rude to your daughter.’

  The two giants let go of Mekhala and grinned.

  ‘Apologize to the lady, rogues,’ Hidumba said. One of the giants fell on his knees, took Mekhala’s hand and said, ‘Sorry.’ Mekhala stared at her father and he wilted under her accusatory stare.

  ‘Charming, aren’t they? The one with a scar on his left cheek is Ranga. His twin, who keeps grinning as if his father has just died, is Thunga. They are twins, if you hadn’t observed. They are a bit dumb, but they have their uses. I like to surround myself with big men for obvious reasons,’ Hidumba said, as he started climbing the steps.

  Pattaraya followed him, with Mekhala’s help.

  When he reached his living room and shut the entrance of the underground chamber, he was enraged to find the dwarf sitting in his favourite chair. Pattaraya swallowed his anger and led his daughter to her bedroom. She appeared terrified and it was important to ensure her safety first. He mumbled some words to pacify her and hurried out of the room.

  Pattaraya reached the hall to find Hidumba admiring the beauty of a ruby he had taken from the safe. He pulled a chair and sat facing the dwarf. ‘You were called for a purpose and this is how you behave? How dare you barge into my home, unannounced?’

  ‘Coming unannounced has its own advantages,’ Hidumba said, squinting at the lemon-sized ruby and turning it towards the light.

  Pattaraya slammed his fist on the table nearby, knocking over the lota of buttermilk.

  Hidumba smiled. ‘Easy, Uncle. A few rubies and some pearls for a poor nephew are not going to ruin you. No need to g
et angry.’

  ‘You force your way into my home, steal my treasures, and ogle at my daughter. Am I supposed to feel ecstatic for the privilege?’

  Hidumba adjusted himself to sit at the edge of the cushion and leaned towards Pattaraya. ‘You think I missed what you showed your delightful daughter? I was standing inside the chamber, watching you.’ The dwarf’s eyes flashed in anger.

  Colour drained from Pattaraya’s face. ‘I…I…’

  ‘I did not take such a big risk for you to swindle it.’ Hidumba slammed his fist on the table.

  ‘It…it was only one stone. I will pay for it.’

  ‘Ah, one stone. Pay for it you will. But what happened to the other stones?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Pattaraya stood up, wringing his hands.

  ‘The two dozen I procured. The rajaguru has a lot to answer for. You and that stupid Dandanayaka Pratapa will have to answer too. Pah! Why was that slave Nagayya killed? Everyone’s neck is on the block now,’ the dwarf said.

  ‘No one wanted to kill him. But he ran away with the stones,’ Pattaraya felt angry that he had to explain himself to this dwarf who came only up to his knee.

  ‘What an elaborate arrangement. Impressive. Except for the fact that now we have neither the stones nor the blacksmith who could’ve worked on the Gaurikanta,’ Hidumba snarled.

  ‘Maybe they got washed away in the storm-water drain where the dead body of the slave was found. They could still be there or could have been washed into the river.’ His argument did not sound convincing even to his own ears.

  ‘While you are busy speculating, why don’t you also think about how we are going to repay Chitraveni? We were supposed to deliver the Gaurikanta stones and a slave who knew the process of extracting Gauridhooli. An expert who could set up a workshop in her country and train her people. The bastard princess of Kadarimandalam is not going to buy the excuse that the slave we identified has run away with the stones and got himself killed. If she blows the secret, you know what will happen,’ Hidumba said, wagging his index finger at Pattaraya.