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

by Anand Neelakantan

  The guards jumped to either side as it rolled on, but a few were not so lucky and the wheels ran over them. There was pandemonium everywhere as men scrambled to get out of its bludgeoning path. Kali, the goddess of destruction, was marching down at great speed. Guards desperately tried to stop it, throwing anything they could grab and flinging it under the wheels. The chariot did not even slow down; it shattered whatever came under its wheel and bulldozed its path downhill.

  Ally saw Jeemotha diving away from the path of the juggernaut and standing up dazed. His face and expression were priceless. He stood transfixed, staring at Kattappa, as the chariot crushed a trail of destruction behind his back. She could see he regretted not having known the real worth of Kattappa. He would not have sold him so cheap. For Ally, nothing could have made for a better revenge.

  Ally let out a cry of celebration as Kattappa ran towards her. ‘Kattappa, you are free as the wind. Free as the wind, free as the wind. I free you. Go wherever you want,’ she cried at the top of her voice.

  The slave bowed before her, and with one strike of his hammer, broke her rope. She was free. He touched her feet for a fleeting moment, but before she could thank him, he had taken off. She watched the chariot carrying Goddess Kali smashing the wooden wall at the far end. The chariot rolled on and she could guess what lay beyond the wall. The chariot was too big to fall into the narrow gorge. Instead, it toppled over, smashing the statue and the chariot into pieces. She could see many stones spinning and landing everywhere. Through the rupture in the wall, a few child workers ran away into the jungle. The stones that landed inside the wall caught the light of torches and started throbbing with a ghostly blue light. Ally saw Kattappa vanish through the breach in the wall.

  Ally had destroyed the fruit of months of preparation. It would not be an easy task to get all the stones back and it would take several days to make another statue. She felt proud: for the damage she had caused, but much more so for Kattappa. By freeing him, Ally felt she had done something noble, something divine. Ally laughed through her tears and dried her eyes. She felt happy and alive. She turned to see where Jeemotha was but could not spot him anywhere. Time to escape, she thought.

  She turned, and was face-to-face with Jeemotha. For a moment, she was taken aback and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle her scream. Then she started laughing, clapping her hands together.

  ‘You were using Vajrayudha to cut vegetables. Fool, you used him to fish for pearls, and see what he is capable of. I will die laughing,’ she said with scorn.

  ‘No, bitch, you will not die laughing,’ Jeemotha said, as he unsheathed his dagger.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Brihannala

  Though the bell had tolled five times, people were still flowing into the fort from the royal highway. Inside, performances were going on before the king and the nobles. Brihannala walked to the gate through which lower castes and untouchables were being let in. When she reached the gate, her heart sank. What was Skandadasa doing here? Brihannala waited near the fort gate, nervously biting her nails.

  Drums boomed from the palace courtyard. Outside the untouchables’ gate, many tribal artistes who were going to perform once the classical artistes had finished were waiting excitedly. Several had already assembled at the fort gate the previous night. Some had come a couple of days ago and slept in the open ground that sloped from the gate to the river. The road for untouchables and slaves had been closed by evening and only those who had reached the venue before that could make it inside.

  A performing monkey came near Brihannala and extended its cupped palm for money or food. She shoved it away with her leg and the Kurava who had the monkey on a leash cursed her and walked away.

  Brihannala’s eyes scanned the crowd waiting to get in. There was no trace of them in the crowd. Skandadasa was still standing at the gate, supervising the security arrangements. Soldiers were checking each of the entrants thoroughly. Any weapon found on anyone was confiscated by the guards. Even kitchen knives, carpenter’s tools or small knives used to cut betel nut were taken away, ignoring the protests of people that those were their work tools. Skandadasa was not allowing any exception. Brihannala wiped sweat from her face and looked back. The mahapradhana was supposed to be by the side of the maharaja, enjoying the classical music concert. Why was he standing in the dust and heat, checking the unwashed and unclean? This man was turning out to be a real pain in the neck. At the far end of the sprawling palace grounds, on the elevated dais, she could see the maharaja with his queen. Why were they late? Had something happened to them? Brihannala knotted and unknotted the pallu of her sari.

  A man came with a dancing bear but was stopped at the gate. An argument broke out. The man claimed he had been bringing the bear for the last two Mahamakams, and before that his father had brought the bear’s father in previous Mahamakams. No one had stopped him or his father or his grandfather before that. The bear sat on its buttocks and scratched behind its ears.

  Skandadasa ordered the man to tie the bear by the side of the gate and go in if he wanted. The bear could not be allowed in. The man cried that he would complain to the mahapradhana who belonged to his own caste. Some people in the jostling crowd sniggered. The soldiers suppressed their laughter with difficulty. Brihannala saw the mahapradhana blush a dark red in the light of the burning torches. It was evident that the bear dancer had not recognized Skandadasa. The mahapradhana ordered him to move out of the line or go in after tying the bear outside. Mumbling curses, the bear dancer went to do as he was bidden. He walked a few feet, then came back and sat on his haunches near his bear. He did not want to leave his bear alone. He sat caressing the bear’s smooth hair, whispering sweet things to it, and the beast licked his hand. Soon it was sleeping on its paws.

  There they were! Brihannala saw them at the back of the crowd. They were drumming hard and a few of them were dancing. She moved towards the gate. Skandadasa was supervising the checking of each and every entrant. The drummers were nearing the gate. Brihannala clasped her hands together to hide her nervousness. She saw that some of the men looked awkward, and their anxiousness could be seen on their faces. She fought her way to go outside and reached the drummers. She started dancing to the beat.

  ‘You are late,’ she whispered as she swirled around Bhutaraya.

  ‘As if you have made the path clear. What is that man doing here?’ Bhutaraya hissed back.

  She swirled round and round like one possessed. Her skirt ballooned and the diamond-shaped mirrors in them caught the light of the flaming torches. The drummers moved near her and started a frenzied beat. The crowd parted to watch the famed court artisan dancing on the streets. Other drummers joined in, beating their instruments to the rhythm.

  She danced near Skandadasa, but the mahapradhana stood unfazed. The drummers were about to enter the gate, when the mahapradhana threw out his hand.

  ‘Check their drums,’ the mahapradhana said to his guards.

  ‘Swami,’ Bhutaraya bowed low, careful not to show his face. He bent down to touch the mahapradhana’s feet. ‘This is our livelihood, swami. We came thinking we will get gifts from the maharaja. Allow us in, swami. I beg you. Inside of the drum is like inside the head of poor people like us, swami. They would be empty, swami.’

  ‘Open your drums and show us if they’re empty. It is just a security check. You can go in if the drum is hollow as you say,’ Skandadasa said.

  ‘They are sacred to us. One should never open them except on the auspicious day of Vijayadashmi,’ Bhutaraya said in a reverential tone.

  Skandadasa clucked his tongue and grabbed Bhutaraya’s drum.

  ‘Swami, swami, I am an untouchable, swami. Do not get polluted by touching my hands or drums,’ Bhutaraya cried.

  ‘I am also an untouchable. The son of a mere bear dancer who was lucky to become the mahapradhana. There is no pollution for me. Now, open the drums,’ he said, snatching the instrument from Bhutaraya.

  Brihannala saw Shivappa’s hand gripping hi
s drumstick. He would pierce the drum head with it and pull out his urumi if she waited any longer. She moved swiftly to the bear dancer and kicked him. ‘Now,’ she said. The bear dancer blinked at her and then nodded his head. He untied the bear and gave it a kick. The bear gave out a blood-curdling roar, and everyone froze. The bear dancer pricked the animal with a small knife between its back paws and the bear charged towards the gate. Brihannala dropped a pouch of coins into his extended hand and he quickly slipped it into his waist-band.

  People ran screaming as the beast stood on its hind legs to its full height and gave another roar. The bear went past Skandadasa, knocking him down, and the drum rolled away from his hands. The bear entered the fort and started running through the crowd. People panicked; some fell down and were trampled. The bear chased and mauled a few. It ran here and there, starting a stampede. Skandadasa tried to control the crowd. He shouted instructions to calm people down and ordered his soldiers to catch the bear.

  The drummers slipped into the fort, taking cover under the pandemonium. Brihannala followed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched the bear running amidst the screaming crowd. She looked at the stage where the maharaja was sitting. It was far off and a huge crowd separated her and the king. The drummers had merged with the crowd. Now it would be impossible to identify them. Brihannala whispered with glee, ‘Mother, I have achieved what you could not even dream of.’

  FORTY

  Kamakshi

  Kamakshi was tense after Sivagami left her, but worry about her friend had given way to anticipation of meeting Shivappa. How he would find her, she had no clue. She kept scanning the crowd to catch a glimpse of him.

  A group of men were performing magic tricks. A snake charmer came with a basket and a pungi. He opened the basket near the dais and started playing his been. A rope started rising up, dancing, twisting and coiling like a cobra. It went higher and higher as the music increased in frenzy. The snake charmer danced around it, playing the pungi with vigour. It was haunting music and it woke up hidden fears in Kamakshi’s mind. It went on and on, driving her mad. The rope had risen more than thirty feet, and yet it danced to the music. The audience was cheering the trick.

  The snake charmer called his ten-year-old son. He asked the boy to climb up the rope which, according to him, had stretched up to heaven. Get me the vajra of Indra, the snake charmer demanded of his son. The boy started climbing up as his father resumed playing his been. The rope wriggled as if to shake the boy off, and the audience screamed in delight. The boy held on and clambered up quickly. Soon he vanished into thin air. The snake charmer started shouting at the boy, asking why he was taking so much time, and from up above the boy said he was not going to return, he was going to marry Rambha and live in heaven. This drew laughter from the crowd.

  Despite herself, Kamakshi became engrossed in the magic rope trick, but a loud noise at the fort gate broke the spell. A few people craned their necks to see the cause of the disturbance. Some were shouting ‘Bear, bear,’ but that did not make any sense. The disturbance soon subsided. Kamakshi tried to enjoy the performance, but her thoughts went again to Shivappa. It was already past midnight. He had promised he would come. Should she go and seek him out? She tried to get up but was pulled down by a girl sitting behind her. Reluctantly, she sat back down to watch the trick.

  The snake charmer warned Indra to send his son and Indra’s laughter from the sky filled the ground. Indra said he was going to adopt his son. It was a great trick of ventriloquism. The man made it appear as if the voice was coming from the sky. The snake charmer pretended to get angry and asked what he would do in his old age, and pat came the reply from heaven—die young. The audience exploded with laughter. The snake charmer danced around, abusing Indra and his son, and said to the audience that he was going to teach them a lesson. He opened his mouth and drew a four-foot sword from his mouth, making the audience applaud with wonder. He started climbing the rope and soon he also vanished into the darkness. Loud sounds of battle came from the sky. Swords clanged; there were screams and yells and shouts; and suddenly limbs and blood started falling everywhere. Severed hands, heads, fingers, ears, noses, legs—the audience screamed in terror. They scattered as severed body parts fell amidst them.

  Kamakshi also moved from where she had been sitting. She looked around and a thrill passed through her. Shivappa. She had seen him. He was carrying a drum. She tried to call out to him, but her voice was drowned out in the cheers of the audience. The crowd shifted then, and she could no longer see him. She started weaving her way through the sea of people. Behind her, the snake charmer climbed down the rope, holding a sword dripping with blood. He started picking up limbs, checking each piece to see whether any belonged to his son. He found a few and mumbled a few mantras. He heaped them together, uncoiled his turban, and placed it over the pile. He invoked Yama and Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, and when he removed the turban, the boy came out smiling. The audience erupted with thunderous applause.

  Kamakshi had now moved far from where she had been sitting and had left the crowd behind. She had spotted Shivappa again, moving towards the palace, through the ranks of slaves and untouchables who stood at a distance from the stage. He was skirting the wall, keeping himself in the shadows. Sometimes she got a glimpse of him, sometimes she despaired that he had vanished.

  Kamakshi pushed her way through the slaves, ignoring the look of surprise in their eyes. Finally she saw him, leaning against a wall, intently watching the king. She reached him and touched his shoulder. She expected him to sweep her into his arms and blushed thinking about the touch of his lips on hers.

  He turned, but there was no love in his eyes. His eyes burned with anger when he saw who it was and he hissed, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘You…you told—’ Kamakshi’s eyes filled up. He hates me, she thought pressing her lips together, holding back her sobs. With trembling hands she tried to touch him, ‘Shiva—’

  ‘Get lost. Don’t come near me,’ he said. He was not even looking at her. He was watching the king. It was not for this that she had spent every moment pining for him. She turned on her heels, her skirt swirling, and started walking back.

  She half expected him to call her back, say it was just a prank. She would have never guessed he could be so heartless, so cruel.

  She turned for one last time and their eyes met. His eyes were blank, but she felt they were telling her something. Perhaps there was some explanation for his strange behaviour. But then he looked away.

  She ran through the mass of people, uncaring about the tears streaming down her cheeks. She hated her life. She hated Shivappa. She started to head away from the crowds. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to cry her heart out. She wanted to talk to Sivagami, cry on her shoulders. Sivagami! She had forgotten about her. Why had she not come back? It was Amma Gauri’s punishment for leaving her friend alone and waiting for a man she thought had loved her. She had to find Sivagami.

  Kamakshi walked towards the offices. The crowd thinned as she moved. The sound of dance performances faded and the shadows thickened as she headed away from the main grounds. The torches had died a long time ago. She turned to the garden. A sentry was dozing, leaning on his lance. She tiptoed past him, trying to suppress her apprehension and misgivings. Why should she care anymore what happened to her, she thought.

  She continued walking and paused when she heard a soft rustle. It was foggy and dark. Early morning mist was rolling from the river and visibility was shrinking. She resumed walking and heard the rustle again. Taking a deep breath, she turned. Nothing. Only the long shadow of the inner fort wall slanting towards the lawn. A singer was singing his heart out. A song about unrequited love. Kamakshi sighed and turned. An arm shot out from the shadows and grabbed her neck. She wanted to scream, but the hand held her tight. She struggled to see who was holding her. Her scream died in her throat when she saw who it was.

  Keki’s grinning face looked like a spectre. The eunuch poute
d her lips and blew a kiss with her other hand. Slowly, she started squeezing Kamakshi’s neck.

  FORTY-ONE

  Mahadeva

  Mahadeva was sitting alone by the river in his usual place. He was thankful the madman Bhairava was not around. He wanted to be alone. Above him, countless stars blinked in unison, as if mocking him. The river Mahishi flowed by and the waves lapping on the ghat steps sounded as if the river too was laughing at his plight. He had rehearsed the words he had said to Sivagami tonight, a hundred times before in his mind. From the day he had seen her for the first time, he had not thought about anything else. He often conducted conversations with Sivagami in his mind. He had imagined her walking beside him, their hands clasped together, and talking sweet nothings.

  Every time he visited the orphanage, he had found an excuse to talk to her. With a pang, he realized that, each time, Sivagami had been indifferent to his advances. Yet he had been blind. He was a fool to think that a beautiful girl like Sivagami would love him. Such things happened only in stupid songs and old fables.

  She loathed him. Her laughter still rung in his ears. She could have at least been more kind. She could have lied to him that she had another lover. He would have continued to love her of course, but he would have never disturbed her again. She had been cruel to him. No, she had not, he corrected himself. He had asked for something he did not deserve. That is how a strong-willed girl should react to a fool who does not know his place.

  The signs of her dislike had always stared him in the face. He had been fooling himself with convenient justifications for her behaviour. He had assumed her reluctance to talk was shyness, and that had made him love her more. He felt like weeping. He was no great warrior. He was a good-for-nothing person, just like his mother always told him. Maybe she had heard the stories about his cowardice; she knew how clumsy he was with arms, how he preferred to sit in the garden and dream. He was no warrior like Bijjala. His brother had a great temper, but was that not the mark of a warrior? In front of him, men trembled with fear. In front of Mahadeva, they feigned respect but he knew they were probably laughing behind his back. No wonder Sivagami had laughed in his face. At least she had been nice enough not to laugh behind his back. He loved her for her frankness. He loved her for everything. Every moment, every breath. He laughed at the thought, and the laughter soon dissolved into sobs. He loathed himself for crying like a girl, but there was no one to watch, no one to see his plight, and no one to care. He let his tears flow freely. Would they even miss him if he vanished into the welcoming bosom of the river Mahishi? Would Sivagami care? Or would she stand at the shore and laugh?