Asura- Tale of the Vanquished

by Anand Neelakantan

  “What do you understand, Mala? Don’t you know there is a siege?”

  “What siege? Why can’t your King put Varuna in his place? He is a coward, your Ravana. He got his kingdom because someone poisoned Kubera’s soldiers. Spineless cowards – that’s what your people are. He is not ready to wage a war with a bloody pirate and he claims to be the saviour of the Asuras. Shiva help the Asuras if Ravana is an example of the kind of hero the Asura race can expect to produce today. King indeed! He’s just a spineless rascal.”

  The intensity of her frustration and disillusionment was unsettling. I winced at her reference to the poisoning. I did not know it would create such a big slur on Ravana’s victory, but I was sure I would have done the same thing even if I had known. What use would it have been if Ravana had bravely foughtbrag s Kubera and died valiantly? Between glorious martyrdom and deceitful victory, I would always choose the second. Too many Asuras had become brave martyrs and the addition or deletion of a Bhadra to their ranks would not make the slightest difference. I had a grudging admiration for the Vishnu clan, that devious clan which had produced many great Deva generals. They had raised deceit to the heights of the divine.

  We walked home in an uneasy silence. I was surprised that I had thought of her house as our home. Sometime earlier I had realized that my attraction towards her was not merely physical. Nor was I sure how she felt. Perhaps, I was just one among the scores of lovers who frequented her house. I was jealous. I wanted her completely. She was a whore but that did not bother me. I was beyond such moral shackles. I was sure I was broad-minded enough to ignore such small details.

  As we turned the corner, I saw an affluent man caressing the manes of his horse in the courtyard of her house. As we approached, he turned towards us and smiled. I saw Mala’s face light up and in a trice she handed me the basket she was carrying and ran into the waiting man’s embrace with a yelp of joy. I stood there in the growing darkness, too stunned to move, as the couple smooched without any shame. I was still standing there with my hands full of vegetables, when they walked into their nest and closed the door. I saw the horse jeering at me. I was angry as I had never been in my life. I wanted to kick open the door and drag the man out of our home, with his head banging on the steps. I wanted to thrash Mala black and blue for behaving so shamelessly in front of me.

  As emptiness filled me, I thought how foolish I must look, standing in the middle of a street, in front of a whore house, with both hands full of vegetables. I felt a wave of self-pity wash over me and anger and frustration at the unfairness of life. I imagined the horse watching me again, his jaws systematically chewing the grass with an expression of disdain. I walked towards him and emptied the vegetables in front of him. I watched with satisfaction as he started munching them with evident pleasure. I felt small and mean, foolish and ridiculous as I played out my frustrations as the spurned lover.

  I walked towards the market. The curfew had been lifted and there were no restrictions like those imposed during Kubera’s time. Anyone could walk freely. As I neared the market, I suddenly felt I needed a drink. I wanted to get drunk, but not because I had lost my lover. She had never been a lover in the first place, just a whore. I passed many people in various stages of inebriation. It was funny to think that each drunkard who passed me had once had Mala, the celebrated whore of Lanka, the great Asura slut – I spat on a wall. I imagined what Mala would be doing now with her lover in bed, my bed. I badly needed a drink so I entered the inn on the street corner and walked right into the middle of a fight. A tough-looking man was sitting at the counter, chewing pan and watching the fun with an impassive face. He might have been used to drunken tiffs. I approached him shyly and he raised an eyebrow in response. I searched in my purse and discovered some copper coins. I could not remember where the coins had come from, perhaps they were my pay from Kubera’s kitchen.

  “What are they fighting about?” I asked but did not expect an answer.

  “Politics. They do not have anything better to do than fight about it, lazy idiots. What will you have, palm or wine?”

  “Er…actually what I want is a job.” I had not intended to ask that question and my thoughts until that moment were only on getting a drink. Before he could reply, I hastily added, “I am Bhadra, and I used to work in Kubera’s kitchens, they say I am a good cook.”

  “Your fanc">rdsy preparations will be useless here. If you can cook up simple dishes like fish curries or chicken fries, you can expect a temporary position. By the way, I am Ilango, and my family has been running this inn since Mahabali’s time, when this God forsaken island was a colony of the Emperor.”

  So I joined Ilango’s inn and soon found it was a hot bed for political discussions which usually ended in a bloody fight. The proprietor never took part in any discussions but gave tacit encouragement by not barring anyone from talking politics. The sly Ilango had decided that these discussions were actually good for his business and he quietly added the expense of repairing or replacing any broken furniture, to the bill of the customers responsible for the mess. Between serving and cooking, I listened to various customers debating heatedly about the affairs of state. This was the voice of the common Asura people, who were incapable of changing things, but who were forced to bear whatever burden the ruling class dumped on their backs. The crowd visiting Ilango were ordinary folk with significantly little education or money. I suspected that the upper middle class of merchants or government officers, considered the present regime boorish. The poor and lower middle class seemed to hope that Ravana would bring about change for the better. Many identified with the poor boy who had risen from poverty. They were sure he would not just concentrate on trade and traders as Kubera had done, but dole out goodies to the poor as well. Many of the older men remained skeptical as they seen many regimes and palace coups. They claimed that things would get worse. Usually, there were several fights between the pro-Ravana men and the pro-Kubera gang. But there was eager anticipation regarding the new government’s policies.

  I was fascinated by the discussions and wished that an optimistic view would prevail, but knowing Ravana better than all these people, the future didn’t seem so bright. The pangs of love I still had for Mala and the frustration I felt because of her blatant betrayal, added to my already miserable view of life. I wished to return to my past and live a simple life on the banks of the river Poorna, tending my cows, farming my small piece of land, loving and fighting with my sweet fat wife, playing with my daughter and walking with my friends to the toddy shop or dancing at the temple festival. I missed all that I had known. But I missed Mala the most and kept an eye on her house. It enraged me that the tall, handsome man frequented it often. Once I tried to follow him but he lost me somehow. I wandered through the labyrinths of the bazaar and was late getting to work. I got a mouthful from Ilango and lost half a day’s pay in the process. The man was an enigma. He looked confident and strong; he had the stride of a warrior; and easily appeared and disappeared at will; but to my eyes, he appeared to be constantly on guard as if he had something to hide. I had decided he was the villain of my story and vowed I would find him and do the needful.

  Slowly but perceptibly, public opinion changed. I could feel the tension in the streets; in the inn and in the way people walked. Jambumali, the new minister of finance and trade, had imposed fresh taxes. He sent messengers to all the trade guilds and shops and even addressed a joint meeting of the guilds to explain the dire necessity of increasing tax percentages. Everyone was implored to bear with the government. They were assured the taxes would be withdrawn once Varuna was paid off. No one believed him.

  Soon Jambumali became the most hated person in the whole of Lanka. The road toll was increased three-fold and farmers were brought into the tax net. The salaries of the armed forces were cut by half and many government servants were literally thrown out of office. Prices soared sky high. Because of the trade embargo, trade came to a standstill. It was rumoured that Praournn hastha had sold Lanka
to the pirate Varuna. The regime became the most hated in the long history of the island. But only a few hated Ravana. He was the innocent, romantic, young man who had established an Asura kingdom, but was in the grip of a vicious coterie. Three months passed in a state of tension. There were small riots in various part of the city and in one instance, a mob lynched a tax collector to death. The Government reacted swiftly and brutally. The army, under the personal leadership of General Rudraka, swept the residents off a street, most of whom were innocent bystanders, and dragged them into the torture chambers. Rudraka became the image of fear. He rode his black horse, surrounded by heavily armed bodyguards, and imposed a reign of terror.

  The business at the inn also fell and I had a lot of free time. Once I visited Mala but found her house locked. I was told she had vanished a few days ago. I felt sad and relieved at the same time. And there ended a chapter in my life, I thought despondently. To add to the woes, the retreating monsoon failed. The harvest was poor and people from the neighbouring villages thronged the temples of the capital, where free food had been provided since time immemorial. But there were no longer any patrons and many temples fell into disrepair. The king had announced that his marriage with chief engineer Mayan’s daughter, had to be postponed to avoid hardship to the people. Except for a few derisive laughs, it did not draw any positive response from the populace. What the king did was his private affair, as long as he did not spend any public money, or so it was said in the Asura’s unwritten code of governance. Like so many codes and laws, this too was meant to be violated.

  By the end of the winter, a trivial incident sparked large scale rioting in the city. No one would have thought that Mayan, the unassuming bumbling professor, now chief engineer of the regime, would be the reason for rioting. But the professor touched a raw nerve in the highly-strung, tense and starving populace, when he chose to show his engineering skills. It was a clear winter morning when I was surprised from my sleep by a hullabaloo in the street. I struggled from my cot when the uproar became unbearable. There was a strange whining noise outside. Sleepy and irritated, my long-drawn yawn was cut off in the middle by the sight of Mayan inside a vimana, a flying machine. He was doing sorties in the sky and was quietly enjoying it, quite oblivious to the rage he was generating below. The huge crowd was shouting at him in awe and horror.

  It was Pushpaka, the famed flying machine made by the old Mayan, the present one’s grandfather. I had only heard about the existence of a prototype developed by Kubera, with the help of some earlier Mayan, but his untimely death in a horse race, led the millionaire merchant-king to shelve the project. Kubera had spent a fortune trying to develop something like this but he could never get the thing to fly. As I watched in astonishment, the Pushpaka made a graceful turn and vanished towards the palace. Then the murmurs started. People started saying all sorts of things. It was then I saw him – Mala’s lover. He was standing on top of a wall, shouting something. I wanted to hear what he was saying so I wove my way through the crowd. The noise subsided slowly, except for occasional murmurs and whispers and some hissing. There was an air of expectation. Then my rival exploded in fury.

  “This is absolute nonsense my dear brothers! Do we deserve this? While we starve, your King rolls in luxury…” The crowd roared in approval. “Ravana is your nemesis, do we need such a ruler?”

  ontle “No! No! No!” I found myself joining the chorus.

  “While your children starve, the jokers inside the palace choose to fly.” He stopped and looked around, waiting for silence. “He defies the Gods. Not even the Gods fly and the king doles out money to mad scientists to make flying machines.” The crowd booed. “When your children die of hunger, when your fields are littered with the corpses of your kin, when your cattle die of thirst, your ruler will fly above the waste you have become and take an aerial view. Why?”

  “Why? Why?” a thousand voices echoed his question.

  “Because he is afraid of you. He is afraid to come down and mix with you common folk. Shame on Ravana!” he roared with a powerful punch to his own chest.

  “Shame! Shame!” the mob echoed and did the same.

  He says it’s because of Varuna that your life is miserable. Who is this Varuna and what right has he over the people of Lanka? He is a pirate. It is your misfortune, nay, your weakness, that you have a coward like Ravana as your King.”

  There was movement at the rear of the mob and I jumped up and down to see what was going on. It was a small scuffle but nothing of importance and I turned back to the speaker. “Did we invite Ravana here? Did we ask him to come and rule us?”

  “No! No! No!” the crowd roared.

  “The old king was a rogue but he was a brave rogue.”

  “Hear! Hear!”

  “He kept pirates at bay. He robbed you, but he robbed with a conscience. He bent you but did not break you. After all his luxuries, he left something for you to eat. This coward Ravana, earned a kingdom through deceit, then he imposed his devilish rule upon you. He will rob the milk from a baby’s mouth. He will drink your blood. He will sell your wives if he thinks that will subsidise his luxurious lifestyle. He is weak, cruel and above all, a coward.”

  I was mesmerized by his oratory skills. He was perfect, his voice rising and falling with perfect timing, his gestures powerful, and I could sense the crowd swaying with emotion.

  “Arise my fellow countrymen of Lanka. We Asuras do not want cruel weaklings as our rulers. Let us remove this imposter and dump his coterie into the sea. Then we will fight Varuna and teach him his place. Let us march to the palace and drag this demon from his throne. Let us mar--” There was a sudden silence and I saw him fall forward slowly. His chest became crimson and it was then I saw the blunt end of an arrow jutting from his clutch after he had removed it from his chest. As the crowd watched in horror, horsemen entered from all sides and started hacking the crowd. There was a widespread pandemonium. I saw Rudraka at full gallop, his black horse trampling everyone in his way towards the fallen orator. I wanted to run from danger but was drawn towards the centre of the drama. I wanted to see the end of my rival and ran, ignoring the pain as many running in the opposite direction collided with me. By the time I neared the wall,

  my feet had been stamped on many times. I saw Rudraka was trembling with rage and frustration. There was no bleeding man lying prone. Rudraka hit a soldier with the hilt ofth et h his sword in frustration. Ignoring the blood which sprayed from the wounded soldier, Rudraka barked instructions to his other men to find the rebel. He could not have gone far. I was disappointed. I fervently prayed that the arrow had done its job and the man would die in a few hours. But I knew I could not count on it. I was never lucky in my life. Then I saw flames rising in different parts of the city. Lanka was burning. And it would not be the first time the island city would burn.

  18 Brother’s brother

  Ravana

  “There are reports of riots in the eastern side of the city and some rogues have burned the artisans’ village and hacked the chief artisan to death. Many lives have been lost. Rudraka has managed to curb the riots in the northern and western sides, but the riots have spread to outlying villages as well. Temples have been torched, granaries looted, women raped. The situation is grim in the central district. The tribes of the southern forests have joined the looting and have committed widespread arson in the southern parts of the city.

  Rebels hold sway in the south and Vidyutjihva has proclaimed himself king. He has started collecting a major part of the farm tax. Sumali and Malyavan have rushed to the south to curb the rebellion and if possible, capture Vidyutjihva. We have also dispatched search parties to find the whereabouts of the missing prostitute, Mala. We are awaiting confirmation to see if the man who visited Mala, was the same spy Bhadra, who escaped from us earlier. Rudraka is sure that he sighted Bhadra during the commotion, but he vanished. It appears that Vidyutjihva, Mala and Bhadra are conspirators in a well-rehearsed scheme to topple the government. Permission is sough
t from the King to impose strict and ruthless measures to curb the rebellion. Orders may be issued to the army to proceed to the southern forests and take back the territory lost to the rebels.”

  Prahastha stopped reading and stared at me as if expecting a ready solution. He looked as if he was almost happy at the turn of the events.

  Maricha, Jambumali and I sat in silence. A decision had to be taken. I did not want to use excessive force in curbing the rebellion. I wasn’t even sure if it was as serious as Prahastha made it out to be. I was hurt that my own people had taken up arms against me. Why did these idiots not understand that governance is not simple? That the government needed taxes to run the State. Was I not supposed to be the saviour of the Asuras? Unless they allowed me to do so, how could I consolidate the kingdom and recover the lost Asura pride? My people spent more time fighting each other than the common enemy. These nitwits could handle change. I wanted to run a model state and build a kingdom where everyone was prosperous, a strong Asura state which could take on the Devas. I want to drive the Devas out of India, and do many great things for my people. And these thankless rabble go and rebel. The stupidity of the people was astounding. Didn’t they know that the present difficulties they were facing was for a brighter future? Why did they not comprehend that I had to buy time to garner enough strength to take on Varuna? Why did they not remain patient and give me some time?

  “Crush the rebellion with force. No traitor shall be spared.” I looked away towards the sea as I pronounced damnation on my own people. ‘For the greater good, of my people,’ I consoled myself. Then it started, the bloody voice inside me. ‘But then, that is what every tyrant in history has told himself. Ravana, I know you are a fool, but you still sth et. urprise me. So, for greater good, you will do some lesser good, like chopping off a few heads, splitting some families, and endorsing wholesale slaughter. Bravo! You have become a real ruler.’ How I want to squeeze the breath out of the mocker within me.