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

by Anand Neelakantan

  Skandadasa was forced to give away everything to the whores. He knew they would parade it the next day as a proof of his visit. They even took away his veerasrinkala, the chain of honour given by the maharaja for serving the country faithfully. They would possibly auction it on the streets and word would spread about the upapradhana who pawned the greatest honour the maharaja had bestowed on him at the feet of a whore. Skandadasa, the nitya brahmachari, the chronic bachelor who was wedded to his duty—what a fall, what a disgrace. He could almost hear the salacious rumours that would follow: This is what you get when you make a bear dancer a high official. All his years of work and dedication would be washed away with this one act of shame. He thought of fighting the whores. But a death by lynching at the hands of whores and pimps was a more bitter fate than what he was facing now.

  Finally, when they found the upapradhana had nothing more to give, they left him. He walked unfazed, mentally cutting himself off from what had just happened to him. When he reached his chariot and climbed up, the mob became quiet. He waited for his men to come. They came with their heads bent, ashamed that they had been unable to protect their master. Skandadasa patted their shoulders and said, ‘You did well. Never mind what happened. Our duty is to the country. We need not prove anything to anyone.’

  They looked at him with renewed respect. They climbed onto their horses and followed him. Brihannala came running behind and jumped into his chariot. Skandadasa thought of throwing her out but since he had brought her here, he felt duty-bound to take her back. He only prayed that she would refrain from her usual taunts. He felt his self-control had been tested enough. His world had crumbled, his honour had gone, and the last thing he wanted was a eunuch laughing at his misery.

  Surprising him, Brihannala touched his feet. ‘You are a great man, swami,’ she said.

  For a moment, Skandadasa’s chest swelled with pride. Then anger came rushing in. He was not a fool to fall for this trick. Brihannala had too many things to answer for. He remembered that it was she who had declared he was distributing presents and incited the mob. Why did she do it? Did she want to delay him deliberately? He was not going to rest until he got to the bottom of this. But he would not last till the next day if he was unable to find Bijjala, he thought despondently.

  His chariot was stopped by a group of armed men. Skandadasa’s guards drew out their swords, but Skandadasa raised his palm to restrain them.

  An old man came forward and cried, ‘A merchant has destroyed our wares and shops. We want justice.’

  Skandadasa’s face brightened. ‘Was a slave riding the chariot?’ he asked with growing excitement.

  The men murmured amongst each other and the old man said, ‘Yes, a huge black slave. He injured many. We will tear him apart if we lay our hands on him.’

  ‘Which way did he go?’ Skandadasa asked.

  ‘If we knew, why would we have waited here for you, swami?’ the old man said with a scornful smile.

  ‘Don’t waste His Grace’s time, you idiots, give way,’ Brihannala cried, and this resulted in a huge uproar of protest from the men.

  ‘Will you keep quiet,’ Skandadasa hissed at the eunuch and turned to the agitated men.

  ‘Split your men into two. One half will scout the highway up to the river. The other will come with me. We will search the jungle path. But no one shall touch the merchant or slave until they are brought to me. This is an order in the name of the maharaja of Mahishmathi.’

  There were some angry murmurs but the old man said, ‘We want justice. We want assurance that our loss will be compensated once we find the merchant.’

  Skandadasa frowned. If his suspicion was right, it was no merchant but Prince Bijjala.

  ‘No compensation will be given,’ Brihannala screamed. ‘You expect the king to compensate pimps and whores, you bastards?’

  The men screamed in anger. Skandadasa glowered at Brihannala. She looked away.

  ‘I will ensure you are compensated. No more time to waste. Scout the highway and the jungle,’ Skandadasa said.

  The group split into two and Skandadasa entered the jungle path with his guards and a group of men led by the old man.

  He eyed Brihannala. Why did she look nervous?

  Kattappa collapsed before the last two Vaithalikas had fallen. They approached him cautiously. One held a sword and another a bow. It was the arrows that had got Kattappa. He now lay on his back in a pool of blood, a few arrows jutting out of his body.

  It was dawn and the rain had petered down to a drizzle. Kattappa was finding it difficult to breath. Each drop falling on his body felt like the piercing of an arrow. He eyed Bijjala. The prince was still sitting on his haunches. His lips and nose were smashed up, but he was largely unhurt. ‘I failed you, my lord,’ Kattappa mumbled. After they killed him, they would get to Bijjala. Kattappa closed his eyes and tears trickled down from them. He had failed his father, his family, his tradition. He was the first slave in his family who had failed to protect his master. ‘Sorry father, sorry,’ he whispered and waited for death to arrive.

  The man with the sword approached him and placed his foot on Kattappa’s chest. He raised his sword with both hands above his head. Kattappa waited for it to blast through his ribcage and pierce his heart. Instead, the man’s legs slowly folded and he fell on Kattappa, his sword falling by the side. Kattappa saw Bijjala standing with a spear. The archer tried to notch his bow, but Bijjala turned to him and knocked away the bow with his spear. The archer took off on his heels as Bijjala threw his spear at him. It missed the archer and he vanished into the bushes. Kattappa saw someone coming from the forest. The figure looked at the carnage and paused for a moment. When he saw Bijjala whose back was turned to him, the figure drew his sword. Kattappa raised his head and, to his shock, he found that the figure was none other than Shivappa.

  At that moment, Skandadasa’s chariot came crashing into the clearing, followed by many men bearing arms. Kattappa saw Shivappa disappear into the bushes.

  Seeing Bijjala with the spear, the crowd that had followed Skandadasa looked at each other. Was this not the merchant who had destroyed their wares? They saw Skandadasa running to the prince and bowing low to him. They heard him calling him prince. The eldest man in the group whispered to his followers as Skandadasa was talking to Bijjala, ‘Don’t create a scene now. If it is indeed the prince, we can extract more money later. Kalika will know what to do.’ There were some angry disagreements but the old man was able to prevail upon them.

  He raised his clenched fist and shouted, ‘Victory to Mahishmathi. Hail Rajakumara Bijjala.’ Soon everyone was hailing the prince at the top of their voices. The prince, still half drunk with liquor, did not understand what was going on, but hearing his name being hailed, he picked up a spear from the ground and lifted it up in the air. The crowd became frenzied with enthusiasm.

  When Skandadasa went up to the injured Kattappa, the slave said with folded hands, ‘Prince Bijjala saved my life.’

  NINETEEN

  Sivagami

  Three months later.

  Sivagami tried to balance the bundle of firewood on her head. Sweat trickled down her cheeks and traced its path along her chin to drip down on her faded clothes. She panted as she struggled to climb the last few steps that led to the kitchen and then she dropped the bundle with a thud. A spider jumped out of it and hurried away.

  Sivagami sat on her haunches to retie the bundle and heard a commotion from the central courtyard of the orphanage. She saw the cook, Bakula, also peering out into the courtyard. However, he too spotted her and immediately commanded her to go and draw water from the well. She could see Kamakshi slogging near the well. When her friend caught Sivagami’s eye, she smiled at her.

  It had been three months since she had come to the royal orphanage. After the incident with the knife, Thondaka and his gang had kept a respectable distance from them. Though they jeered at her often, they were careful to avoid any direct confrontation. Sivagami and Kamakshi had ta
ken it up as a holy duty to take care of Uthanga. The boy’s condition remained the same. They had to feed him gruel, which he swallowed with great difficulty. His eyes were glassy and he stared into the distance till one of the girls closed them at night. They changed his soiled clothes, wiped his body with a wet cloth once a week, and kept him free of bed sores.

  They would even pour their hearts out to him. Kamakshi was the one who spoke to the unconscious boy more often. She lamented about the plight of her lover, and her own uncertain future. She laughed and cried and it was heartbreaking for Sivagami to witness her state.

  Neither Revamma, nor any of the other residents, bothered to even peep into the storeroom. Prince Mahadeva, however, visited often to enquire about Uthanga. Sivagami felt most uncomfortable at these times. He was so helplessly in love with her that she found herself getting irritated. She continued to avoid him, finding some excuse or another whenever the prince came with the rajavaidya in tow. Revamma fawned over the prince and extracted whatever she could. Overall, the old woman found the presence of the unconscious boy, and the special interest the prince showed in him, quite profitable.

  More than the prince’s visits, what both the girls dreaded were the occasional visits of Keki to the orphanage. Revamma’s husband sold girls from the orphanage to the Kalika’s den. Often he took an advance as soon as a young girl was admitted into the orphanage. Revamma was a part of the racket too, and held on for as long as she could for the highest bidder. Corrupt officials, bribed by the duo, swore that girls volunteered for the jobs of devadasis. As it was rumoured that Kalika took care of her wards well, often pampering them with luxury, not many girls objected to this scheme, glad to flee the bleak orphanage.

  Kamakshi was yet to be sold as Revamma was sure her beauty would fetch her a better price if she waited long enough. Keki kept coming for her, each time increasing the size of the offer from Kalika. Revamma, sensing a good opportunity, was driving a hard bargain. It would be a matter of time before the right bidder came along, and Kamakshi would be sucked into the dark folds of Kalika’s den. It was also possible that she proved to be a fast learner in the art of love, in which case she would become one of the exalted dasis in Antapura, for the pleasure of visiting princes or kings. For Kamakshi, Shivappa was her only hope to escape the inevitable.

  Today, there was going to be a puja which made both the girls tense. It was the day of amavasi—the day of Revamma’s grand puja.

  Sivagami hurried through the tasks at hand, but her mind was outside. From what she could gather from the loud jeers and snatches of conversation she caught, there was a newcomer in the orphanage. The boys seemed to be having fun at his expense. She could well empathize with the plight of whoever had had the misfortune to join this hellhole. Even after three months, the treatment they had given her when she had stepped into the orphanage for the first time riled her.

  By the time she finished her work and hurried to the central courtyard, the shadows had grown long and night had already crept into the corners. The entire population of the orphanage was assembled there and the veranda was overflowing with howling boys and girls. She was unable to see what was happening, but she could discern the feeble cry of a boy. Though it was time to light the lamps, no one had bothered to do so. A bitter smell of sweat hung in the air.

  ‘Now, fatso, show us how Hanuman jumped to Lanka!’ Huge laughter followed. Sivagami could recognize the voice of Thondaka. Within a few months, he would be eighteen and would leave to join the army. Until then she and Kamakshi would have to be wary of him.

  ‘See how his belly bounces?’ Thondaka screamed in amusement, and the entire building shook with laughter.

  ‘He looks like a monkey,’ Malika’s shrill voice added to the fun, and Sivagami could hear the boy whimpering.

  ‘Maybe he was fathered by a monkey,’ Thondaka slapped his thigh in merriment and was rewarded with another bout of laughter. ‘Did your father come to your home or did your mother go to the forest to make you, fatso?’ Thondaka screeched. There were howls and screams of glee.

  Sivagami felt sorry for the boy. She walked towards the courtyard to see what was happening. She knew the pain of standing there, facing the hostility of all the residents.’

  What is happening here?’ Sivagami heard the swish of a cane as the boys and girls scattered. Revamma climbed up the steps. Within the blink of an eye, everyone except Sivagami and the fat boy had vanished.

  ‘They were teasing me,’ the fat boy said to the scowling woman.

  ‘You are the new bride here, no?’ Revamma said as she brought the cane on the boy’s ample back with great force. He howled in pain. The old woman chased him as the boy tried to get away, and beat him till the cane broke. The boy lay whimpering on the floor, in foetal position. Revamma kicked him a couple of times before turning to Sivagami. ‘What are you gaping at? Don’t you have anything to do?’ she yelled at her.

  Sivagami knew it was better not to argue. She hurried to the kitchen. There was a mountain of soiled vessels to wash before dinner. She sat by the well and joined Kamakshi in scrubbing the pots and utensils with ash. They discussed the newcomer in hushed tones.

  ‘Another one like us,’ Kamakshi said as she scrubbed hard to remove the grease from the edges of the vessel. Sivagami did not reply. There was nobody who shared her fate. After a few days of teasing, they would accept him. He was not a traitor’s son after all. Soon he would join the others in harassing her. She was a pariah, the daughter of a traitor amongst boys and girls who were the wards of martyrs. Every action of hers was suspected. They called Sivagami a witch behind her back. Thondaka had never lost a fight with any boy, but he had been forced to swallow dust against her. That had sealed her reputation as a witch.

  She would always be the traitor’s daughter in Mahishmathi, while the citizens prided themselves on being patriots. Sivagami hated the country that killed her father from the bottom of her heart.

  Her thoughts travelled to his manuscript. She often wondered what was written in that book. Her reading skills were of no help, and Kamakshi could barely read. Thimma had told her that her father had written it in the old tongue of Paisachi. He did not know anyone who could read Paisachi other than her father.

  Sivagami wondered why her father wrote it in Paisachi. It was not a language many knew. Or had he got it from someone? She was scared to even show the book to anyone and carried it on her person most of the time. It had a picture of a mountain etched on the leather cover. Many nights she would creep to the window and, by the moonlight, try to make sense of what was written in it. It was a risky thing to do. Already a few of the girls had asked her what she was hiding.

  A girl was lighting a lamp before the idol of Kali, which stood in the centre of the courtyard. The wards were coming out one by one to say their prayers. Revamma had changed into a sari and was sitting cross-legged before the idol. The smoke from incense sticks clung over them like mist and spread a sickening fragrance. When Revamma tinkled her bell, everyone rushed to the courtyard. She started reciting shlokas in a voice that could have made a buffalo proud. Sivagami wiped her hands on her skirt and rushed out. Kamakshi followed her. When the aarti happened, everyone was supposed to be in the courtyard.

  ‘Oh, what do we have here? Such precious, charming girls!’ said a familiar voice.

  They stopped at the threshold and Keki walked towards them, swaying her hips. She stopped in front of Kamakshi and turned to Revamma, ‘Can I take this doll home?’

  Kamakshi backtracked. Keki reached out and gave Kamakshi’s breasts a squeeze. ‘So firm, so…’ Sivagami’s hand shot out and grabbed Keki’s neck. Kamakshi moved behind Sivagami, fearful. Keki laughed and slapped away Sivagami’s hand. The next moment, a knife was being pointed inches away from her left eye. Keki froze.

  ‘Move,’ Sivagami said in a calm voice.

  ‘Easy, easy. Can’t you take a joke? We are all women, you know? What is wrong with one woman touching another?’ Keki cried.


  Sivagami grabbed Keki’s head with one hand and held the knife close with another. This time the knife was almost touching the eunuch’s eyeballs. Sivagami could sense Keki’s fear, though the eunuch tried to laugh it off. Sivagami prayed she would not do anything foolish. She was not sure she could plunge the knife all the way into Keki’s brain. She had never hurt anyone apart from Thondaka and his gang and that was self-defence. For the first time, she was the aggressor. It gave her a sense of power which frightened her.

  ‘The witch is on the prowl again,’ Sivagami heard Thondaka’s voice. She could feel all eyes on her. Kamakshi was sobbing behind her. Sivagami pushed Keki away. The eunuch spun, bumped her head on a pillar, turned back and grinned.

  ‘Revamma, I want this girl. You name the price and I shall get it. She is worth a fortune,’ Keki said. Sivagami slashed out with her knife and it scratched Keki’s nose. Clutching her bleeding nose, she cried, ‘Oh god, you almost killed me. You killed me. Oh, how I love you. You are so sexy. Revamma, I want this girl. She’s the one I want.’ The eunuch danced around. She clapped her hands and hissed at Sivagami’s face, ‘Just watch how I get you now.’ Sivagami stood coolly, though her heart was hammering against her chest. The eunuch danced away, loosening her hair and swirling her head round and round, spraying droplets of blood everywhere. She cried, ‘Amma, amma,’ and danced towards the Kali idol.

  Sivagami walked Kamakshi to the storeroom which she shared with her friend and Uthanga and left her there.

  When she came back, Bakula was jingling the bell while another boy lit camphor in front of the idol. Thondaka, now bathed and sporting a big tilak on his head, was throwing flowers at the idol. His eyes were closed in devotion and he was trying to outshout Revamma in singing the goddess’s praises. Keki sat in the middle with her hair spread around her face, swirling her head like one possessed.

  Sivagami said her prayers quickly. There was only one thing to pray for—death for people who had killed her father.