PRINCE OF DHARMA

by AKB eBOOKS Ashok K. Banker

  ‘That’s not true!’ Sita cried as she saw Janak’s eyes flutter and close. ‘My father challenged Sudhanva to single combat, to spare his people the horrors of another needless war. He won fairly and the bow was given freely by Sudhanva’s widow.’

  Ravana laughed. ‘If you care so much for your father, Sita Janaki, then make your decision quickly. Already I feel his life ebbing. Or tell me, should I clench my fist and end it for him mercifully?’

  Sita fell to her knees. ‘Please. I will do as you wish. You passed the test, it is true. You are my champion. I will wed you and go with you where you please. But spare my father’s life. In the name of the devi, mother of all creation, I beg of you. Spare him!’

  Ravana grinned with pleasure, raising his heads to the ceiling and roaring his exultation. ‘FINALLY! A MORTAL WHO HONOURS HER WORD!’

  He flicked his wrist as if he was brushing away a drop of water. Maharaja Janak flew across the dais and landed sideways on a trio of palace guards and Captain Bejoo. Bejoo had the presence of mind to grab hold of the maharaja’s arms and cradle his head against his own chest as he fell back on to the floor.

  Lakshman and Rama loosed arrows at the exact same instant. Each aimed at a different head of the rakshasa king. But when the arrows reached their targets, the demon lord was gone from that place. He had leapt into the air, landing with a deafening impact beside Sita. This put Vishwamitra between him and the rajkumars, who were now forced to stay their arrows, reluctant to shoot and risk hitting their guru, or Sita and Nakhudi should Ravana move again.

  Before anyone could react, Ravana reached out to grab Sita’s hair. Instead, he found Nakhudi’s sword at his chest.

  ‘Touch her and I’ll cut you to ribbons, monster!’ the Jat said.

  Ravana’s eyes smouldered with rage. ‘Rajkumari? Is this how you honour your word?

  Sita’s hand shot out, knocking Nakhudi’s sword aside. ‘Back off, Nakhu. He kept his word. He let Father go. Now I have to keep my part of the bargain. I have to go with him.’

  Nakhudi stared at her mistress, her friend. ‘Are you insane? He’s a monster! You owe him nothing! Let me at him. I’ll kill him with my bare hands.’

  ‘NO!’ Sita yelled. ‘We are Aryas. We keep our word. I made a pact. Pass the test and I marry the man. He passed the test! Move aside, Nakhu.’

  ‘He’s not a man!’ the Jat screamed back. But she moved aside sullenly. Her eyes never left Ravana, scouring across the demon lord’s ten heads. Ten pairs of eyes watched her suspiciously.

  Sita turned to Bejoo. ‘Captain, my father … ?’

  Bejoo nodded shakily. ‘Alive. Unconscious but alive.’

  Sita turned to Ravana. ‘Then I am yours.’

  ‘WAIT!’

  Vishwamitra strode forward.

  Ravana snarled and stepped back.

  ‘Sage, again you try to cheat me of my just reward. You heard the rajkumari. She comes with me of her own free will.’

  ‘Nay, asura. She comes with you because she believes you won the contest. But the contest is not yet over.’

  Ravana growled malevolently. ‘What new sorcery is this, mage? You saw it with your own eyes. I was the last to try my skill at the bow. Nobody else could even move it!’

  Vishwamitra shook his head. ‘Her condition was that who ever picks up the bow single-handedly, strings it, and fires an arrow shall be her groom. But she meant that the arrow should be fired at the target, not at that beam.’

  The brahmarishi pointed at the target provided for the contest, at the far end of the hall, high up by the rafters, where a miss would not risk harming anyone. Then he pointed with his staff at the crossbeam where Ravana had shot his single arrow. It was nowhere near the target.

  ‘The point is moot, sage,’ Ravana said. ‘Nobody else could lift the bow, let alone string and shoot it. Therefore I win. The princess is mine. Let me have her and leave before I change my mind and decide to kill all of you.’

  ‘The contest is not won yet, demon,’ Vishwamitra said calmly. ‘Two contestants remain. Only if they are unable to pass the test will you win by default.’

  Ravana’s heads scanned the assembly hall. ‘Which two contestants? All these other young fools declared in my favour the minute I picked up the bow! Ask them yourself! Why do you seek to cheat me of my fairly won prize?’

  Vishwamitra shook his head. ‘I speak of these two contestants, Ravana.’

  He pointed his staff at Rama and Lakshman.

  SEVEN

  Lakshman stepped forward and looked at the bow. It lay mutely on the smashed planks of the wheeled platform, oblivious to the human conflict raging around it. Its cord was still strung.

  Lakshman took a deep breath and reached a decision. He stepped back, shaking his head.

  Rama stepped forward. ‘Lakshman?’

  Lakshman looked at his brother, then at the brahmarishi. He knew what he was doing was right. Even if he won the contest, he had no desire to wed Sita. If there was anyone here who was suited for the rajkumari, it was Rama. Lakshman had seen how Rama and she looked at each other. How the air between them seemed to sparkle with magic.

  There was no point in playing if the prize wasn’t yours to covet. He could probably complete the test with the help of Brahman shakti, but what would be the point? If he stepped out now, Rama would try his hand, and he would win. Lakshman never doubted that for a moment.

  He looked at Rama, his mind made up. ‘I withdraw. Your turn, brother.’

  Ravana laughed. ‘There goes one of your champions, sage! Your other one will fare no better, I warrant!’

  Vishwamitra said nothing. All eyes were on Rama as he stepped past his brother. He looked at Lakshman, searching his face to make sure he was all right. Lakshman nodded reassuringly and squeezed Rama’s hand.

  Rama stepped up to the broken platform. He looked down at the Bow of Shiva for a moment, discarded as carelessly as an unwanted toy. His heart burned with anger at such foul treatment of a treasured relic.

  He bent down and picked up the bow with one hand. It came easily. On the dais, someone released a long-held breath. It sounded like Nakhudi.

  Rama looked at the cord of the bow. The terms of the contest were clear. He reached up and carefully began to unwind it. It took several moments. Finally, it was done. He loosed the cord, held it in his free hand to show all those present that it was untied, then began to wind it again.

  When it was done, he picked up an arrow and strung it.

  He took aim at the target.

  He loosed the arrow.

  It flew straight to the heart of the painted wooden target, striking the centre, and quivered there. The silence in the assembly hall was deafening.

  Then a roar of triumph rose from the throats of all assembled in the sabha hall filling the air for miles around.

  ‘Satyamev Jaitey!’ Lakshman yelled punching a fist into the air. Truth always triumphs!

  Ravana roared and sprang down from the platform.

  ‘GIVE ME THE BOW. GIVE IT TO ME, BOY! YOU THINK I CAN’T HIT THAT TARGET? I CAN HIT IT BLINDFOLDED IF I WISH.’

  He strode across the hall, his powerfully muscled body thrice as tall as Rama and twice as wide. Vishwamitra’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

  ‘The rajkumari called for one shot. Nothing was mentioned of a retrial. You had your chance, demon. Rama is the victor. Accept your defeat now and show how honourable you are!’

  Ravana roared. His remaining arms, hidden until now within their sheaths of flesh, emerged and spread wide, each pair strong enough to tear a grown man in two.

  ‘The princes of Ayodhya were only watching, sage. You know that as well as I. You connived to let them take part to cheat me once again. I allowed that. Now you will not deny me the same licence! I will shoot that bow again and place my arrow in the tail of this young whelp’s. Then I shall wed and bed the rajkumari!’

  Rama raised the Bow of Shiva over his head. His eyes were glowing with blue fury now. ‘Ravana!’
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  The Lord of Lanka turned to look at him.

  ‘You want this bow?’

  Ravana watched him suspiciously. ‘Give it to me, boy. Or die. It’s the same to me.’

  Rama took the bow in both hands and bent it. Ravana watched him curiously. ‘What would you do now, boy? That is the Bow of Shiva. The Three-Eyed One himself anointed it with everlasting endurance. It cannot be broken. What do you think you will do?’

  ‘WATCH, DEMON!’ Rama shouted, his eyes spitting gold and blue fire. ‘WATCH AND LEARN! THIS IS THE POWER OF THE LIGHT!’

  And with one massive scissoring of his arms, Rama snapped the Bow of Shiva in two.

  The sound that came from the cracking of the bow was monstrous. It rolled through the assembly hall, through the palace, and through the city entire. It swept the streets like a wind with lightning in its breath. Like a rolling tidal wave of thunder, the sound rumbled through Mithila, carrying to the distant fields outside the city, to the Siddhashrama procession arriving just now at the crossroads leading to the capital. It was like a crack of the mightiest thunder ever heard, like the snapping of the backbone of the world itself.

  Birds fell from the skies, killed outright by the sound. Small creatures ran gibbering to their holes for safety. Large predators mewled in fear and cowered in dark thickets. Glass shattered throughout the city, cracks appeared in walls and floors, and in the highest point in Mithila, the Sage’s Brow, an enormous bell that had not been rung for twenty-two years sounded a single pealing toll, then was silent again.

  ***

  Sita couldn’t believe her eyes. Rama had outmatched Ravana. And now he had broken Shiva’s bow. Broken it! But that was impossible.

  She heard Vishwamitra speak a single phrase: ‘Om Namay Shiva.’ All around her, everyone repeated the invocation, praying to the three-eyed god to forgive the destruction of his weapon.

  ‘Om Namay Shiva,’ Sita said.

  Her father stirred in her lap. She had gone to him while Rama and Lakshman went to try their hand at the bow. She looked at his wan, bloodless face. His eyes fluttered, then opened slowly. He peered up at her with difficulty, groaning.

  ‘Sita,’ he said, relieved. ‘That monster …?’

  ‘It’s over, Father. Rama bested him in the contest.’

  Janak sat up with difficulty, peering across the assembly hall.

  Sita followed his gaze.

  Ravana was staring at the two broken halves of the bow in disbelief. He looked at Rama, whose eyes had returned to their normal deer-brown colour.

  ‘So,’ Ravana said softly, ‘the boy has learned some new tricks.’

  ‘These were old when the world was young, demon,’ Rama replied.

  Ravana laughed. ‘You try to teach me, boy? Me? I was old when the world was young! I!’

  ‘No, demon. You weren’t even born at the time. You’re no deva, no god. Only an anti-god. That’s easy enough. Far more difficult to be a god. Or even aspire to that divine status.’

  Ravana looked startled. Then he recovered, his faces breaking out in a variety of enraged expressions. ‘Enough banter! Do you think by breaking the bow you have ended this? Nothing has ended! The sage said it truly. Already my army masses on the north bank of the Ganga. In hours they will be here, tearing down the gates of Mithila, laying waste to this city. And after we finish raping the city, I will do the same to Rajkumari Sita! Enjoy your ill-won wife while you can. I will be back before nightfall to take her from you. And this time, your puny Brahman tricks will not save you. I will make your nightmares come true tonight. You do remember your nightmares, don’t you, boy? Sita remembers too! Don’t you, princess?’

  ‘Rama! Cut him down now. Use your shakti and bring him down! Together we can take him! Now, Rama! Now!’ Lakshman sprang forward, his sword ready. ‘Come on, brother. Don’t let him leave alive. He’s alone and unarmed now. We can kill him together. If he leaves, he’ll return with a million of his kind and we won’t even get close enough to strike at him.’

  Ravana turned to Lakshman. The demon lord’s eyes glinted and gleamed with dark anger. His mouths snarled silently, fangs bared, dripping saliva as thick and viscous as insect ichor.

  ‘You mortals. Always dishonourable, yet you pretend that you are the only honourable ones. You would fight me now? Come! Fight me! I will take your odds and to hell with your honour and your so-called eternal souls!’

  Rama stepped forward, drawing his sword. The blue light of Brahman flashed in his eyes again. Nakhudi whooped with exultation and leapt down from the dais, ready to join in. Bejoo jumped down beside her. The seer-mage Vishwamitra strode forward, his staff held high, preparing to chant.

  ‘No,’ Maharaja Janak cried. His voice was cracked and hoarse, but his authority was indisputable. This was his roof, his city. He was liege here.

  Everybody froze. They looked at him.

  Sita helped her father to his feet. He said hoarsely, ‘You cannot attack this creature under my roof. It violates the law of dharma. A guest is as a god by our Arya traditions. To cause harm to this guest, monster though he may be, would dishonour the Chandravansha dynasty and the Arya people.’

  ‘But he harmed you, Father,’ Sita said urgently. ‘And if they allow him to leave, he will return with an army! Lakshman spoke truly. We must kill him now and end it. It’s our only chance.’

  ‘No.’ Janak shook his head, adamant. ‘He knows our ways. That is why he came here alone and unarmed. He knows that Arya law dictates that no guest can ever be attacked beneath his host’s roof. If we kill him, we will put the lie to every Arya tradition. People will stop believing in our nobility and say we are not worthy of the title Arya. What face will we show to the world then?’

  Turning to the tableau of warriors and sage in the assembly hall, Janak raised his voice with difficulty, continuing, ‘I command all of you, my own people and visitors from Ayodhya alike. This guest must be allowed to leave unharmed. If he chooses to return with hostile intentions, then he will be answered in like fashion. But for now he has come to attend a ceremonial function and as such he must be permitted to leave safely. Go now, demon king, go and never darken my door again!’

  Ravana raised his head and laughed. ‘A fine way to speak to a man you were willing to make your son-in-law a little while ago! But I think it’s for the best. You and I would have had a hard time getting along under the same roof, wouldn’t we? I don’t think you would have liked hearing a rakshasa bed your beautiful daughter every night! It might have tested your Arya honour more than you could bear!’

  ‘Begone, demon!’ Janak shouted fiercely, his damaged voice cracking with strain. ‘Begone before I rescind my words and turn you over to your enemies.’

  Ravana chuckled and began sheathing his arms again, pair by pair. His muscled torso glistened darkly as he strode to the doorway. Citizens watching wonderstruck fled away like rabbits before a wolf. Some spat at the demon’s feet before they ran. ‘I shall go, Janak. But I will be back this very eve. And then we shall see who owns this roof. Or even if you have a roof left, for that matter!’

  The rakshasa lord sketched a series of symbol in the air as he walked. A misty sheen formed before him, like an oval doorway, and he stepped through it. Briefly at the edges, over his shoulder, Sita glimpsed a green field of grass and a great body of water flowing beyond.

  The Ganga’s north bank. And there, just at the periphery of the portal, the unmistakable dark mass of an alien army.

  The portal closed behind the demon lord and the air sparkled briefly before resuming its normal appearance. The laughter of Ravana echoed through the hall.

  EIGHT

  Kausalya ran down the winding corridor, forcing the leader of her personal guard to run as well. The woman, a short but strapping Banglar named Sengupta, tried to answer a question the First Queen had asked a moment ago. ‘She seems all right, my queen. But she looks like she’s been at a funeral pyre.’

  ‘A what?’ Kausalya didn’t slow her pace, but her fa
ce registered her surprise. ‘I thought you said you found her in the south corridor of the palace.’

  ‘That we did. But she was wandering around in a daze. And her vastra, her face, her arms … well, she looks like she’s been rolling in ashes.’ Sengupta wrinkled her dark snubby nose. ‘And the stench of her, my queen … How can I describe it?’

  Rolling in ashes? What in the world had Sumitra been up to? Where had she been?

  Kausalya had got word of Sumitra’s disappearance this morning, when the Third Queen’s maids had taken her some breakfast and had found Sumitra’s bedroom door ajar and the maharani nowhere in sight. Kausalya had been alarmed at the news. She hadn’t stopped feeling guilty and miserable since placing Sumitra under palace arrest the previous day. But she’d had no choice in the matter. She’d done it as much to protect dear Sumitra as to prevent further mishap. Too much was happening to take any risks.

  She had hoped to be able to discuss the matter with Guru Vashishta and see if he still felt that Sumitra had accidentally dropped the vinaashe poison in the maharaja’s punch yesterday, or if it had been more supernatural mischief perpetrated by some agent of the Lord of Lanka. After all, if their enemy could reanimate a dead man and send him within strangling distance of Maharaja Dasaratha himself, might he not possess the ability to somehow poison the maharaja as well?

  Kausalya reached the place where the corridors bifurcated, heading south and west. She took the former and ran past a clutch of serving girls, maids and daiimaas all trying to catch a glimpse of the latest mishap to befall the House Suryavansha. O Sri, Kausalya prayed silently as she approached the jewelled arch that marked a titled queen’s palace annexe, let Sumitra be okay. Let her not be culpable of any further mischief, deliberate or otherwise.

  She entered the Third Queen’s private apartment, slowing to give herself a moment to catch her breath, and breezed past a clutch of Sumitra’s private guards and servants. The alert angrakshaks, the birth-caste of personal bodyguards sworn to live and die protecting the Third Queen, glanced sharply at the First Queen as she entered. It was yet another sign of how much Ayodhya had changed in just a few days. The recent spate of intrusions, attempts, supernatural occurrences and grim news had left the capital city shaken.