Asura- Tale of the Vanquished

by Anand Neelakantan

  The other group under Rudraka, proposed storming Karthiveerarjuna’s stronghold and teaching the half-castes a lesson, even at the cost of our King’s life. He had supporters like Sumali and Malyavan, who argued that Asura pride was at stake and an all-out war with a decisive outcome was needed. Of course, these were only speculations started by guards standing outside the camp where the Council met.

  All the great men were seated in their cushioned chairs when I entered the tent. I bowed low and kept my hand over my mouth, my eyes staring at the floor, my spine bent, avoiding any eye contact. The King’s throne stood vacant but Prahastha was seated just next to it. There was an uneasy silence. Then Prahastha spoke, “Bhadra, we are assigning you a special task. We feel only you can do it.”

  My heart jumped. ‘At last! Here was the moment I had been dreaming about, a chance to become a hero, an opportunity to become a legend and escape from the mundane.’ It was not that I had always yearned to do courageous and brave deeds, but I had sometimes wished that fate would give me the chance of a lifetime to somehow save my King and become his favourite and the hero of the entire race.

  “It might be disgusting but you have to do it.” Maricha walked up to me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. My ears burned. ‘What were these people talking about?’ The dreams of my heroism disintegrated in a million pieces. It wasn’t going to be a heroic rescue of our Asura King. That would be done by these nobles surrounding me.

  The job is. . .” Maricha was finding it difficult to spell out. Vidyutjihva moved towards me menacingly and I cowered. I wanted to stand up and stare at his face, but my body remained bent. “You will take that Deva woman and dispose of her.” he sneered. “And also that ill-fated little princess.”

  I recoiled from the shock of what I heard. I had never liked the woman but our King loved her. I might not love Ravana but I stuck with him because I believed that finally, he would outrun all these buffoons. And that would serve my purpose. And now, when he was in danger, perhaps due to his own folly, his supposedly good friends were plotting to finish off his love and his little baby girl.

  “Should we kill her? And the little princess. . .“ Maricha mumbled.

  “Pshaw!“ Vidyutjihva spat out. “We have had enough bad luck with the King running around this woman shamelessly. And have you forgotten the predictions? That little girl of Ravana is an ill omen to the entire Asura race. She will bring death and destructions to us and our King thinks all these are stupid beliefs. I do not want to take any chances.”

  “Enough!” Prahastha’s voice was calm and clear, which made it more frightening. He looked uneasy and indecisive. “I need not tell you this but I believe that knowing the reason for this decision will help you do your duty to our race, with a clear conscience.”

  Maricha’s voice was barely audible, as if he had swallowed something and was trying to talk at the same time. “Our war campaign has reached a critical point. We are on the verge of a total rout. Our King has been taken prisoner and we fear we will end up paying a king’s ransom to Karthiveerarjuna. Morale is low among the troops and the Council has, in all its wisdom, taken a decision. We feel that the lady was a major distraction to our King. I won’t go to the extent of saying she is a spy planted by the Devas, but I know many people who would vouch for such fantasr such ftic theories. Notwithstanding the veracity of such conspiracy theories, there is no doubt that she has become a millstone around the neck of the entire Asura race.” Maricha paused and looked intently at my face. I was sure he could sense my intense hatred towards all these great men. He sighed and put his hand on my shoulder as he towered over me. I felt like a puppy looking up his master.

  Prahastha moved towards me, then stooped from his great height and whispered darkly in my ear, “Take her and dispose of her.”

  Vidyutjihva moved nearer and hissed, “And do not forget the little one.”

  I stood still for some time and then, with the utter helplessness of the lower class of Asuras, I bowed from the waist. ‘Your wishes are my orders, Guru.’

  I was dismissed with a wave of the hand by Prahastha and went out with a heavy heart, Vidyutjihva’s jeer burning deep within. I went to my camp and fell onto my ragged bed. I was tired of being a dog to these people. ‘Who gave these rascals the divine right to ride over poor people like me?’ I felt anger and indignation rising in me, but then, at the precise moment when it was about to brim over, a soldier entered and put a plate full of delicacies on the floor beside me. He banged down a metal glass and poured fine wine. I sat up on my bed and watched the ritual with faint interest.

  “You grovelled before them did you? Well, you are being fed well,” he sneered and left.

  All that we had got for the last few days had been a few spoons of rice and a watery gruel. There was never enough. But for the important ones, there was always enough and more. When you did what they wanted, they sometimes fed you a few morsels from their table. I stared at the plate for a long time. Suddenly I felt very hungry. I wiped my hands on my dhothi and eagerly ate my special treat. For good measure, I licked the plate as well. Then in one sweep, I swallowed the fine wine and threw the metal tumbler out. It landed somewhere in the darkness outside and registered its protest with a clang.

  It was still dark when I was shaken awake from my drunken slumber. I had a searing headache and hangover. I could hear the noise of the ox cart getting ready. I went out and washed my face in cold water, shivered, and then stretched. I could see the tall figure of Maricha approaching me. Quickly, I went in and changed into some decent clothing. Then, fumbling with my clothes, I went out to meet him midway, bowed, and remained bent at the waist. He was in a dark, pensive mood. He silently came near me, stretched out a hand to touch me, but then decided against it. After a few moments silence, he said, “Bhadra, I’m sorry about the task we have entrusted to you. But do it anyway, for our race, for our King.”

  I remained silent. Somewhere a cock crowed before its time. “I hope what we are doing is the right thing. . . I feel sorry for the girl. . . and of course, for the Brahmin lady. Godspeed Bhadra. . .do your duty and do not trouble your simple mind with anything. Leave the worrying to us.” And with a swirl, he turned on his heels and left.

  I stood there bent for a few more moments. ‘Simple mind indeed.’ I felt blood on my hands. When I stood erect, I prayed for strength and inner peace and waited for the exhilaration to sweep me, knowing that I was doing my duty. Nothing came to me except a sense of dread, self-pity and disgust. In that mood I walked to the kitchen. The clerk at the counter smiled when he saw me and handed over a bundle of food. The bustling activustling ity in the kitchen at such an early hour surprised me. When I walked back, a drizzle had started. I tossed the bundle into the cart and climbed onto the driver’s seat and waited.

  The east had streaks of light when they brought her. She was drugged and being carried by two men. Her dress has become dishevelled and a large part of her white breasts were exposed. The men carrying her were ogling at the rare treat and sniggering. They dumped her in the back, winked at me, and left. After some time, Maricha came, carrying with a little bundle delicately in his hands. He kissed the forehead of the baby girl and slowly deposited her near the woman. He turned back, trying to avoid my eyes. I saw a tear drop on the baby’s thighs. She stirred a little, smiled angelically in her sleep and was at peace with herself.

  I whipped the oxen and with a jerk the cart started its swaying journey. The sun had already risen and painted the world saffron when I reached the swelling Narmada. The drizzle had turned golden in the morning sunlight. There was a huge rainbow on the distant horizon and I turned away from it. The cart swayed and jerked its way through the narrow forest path towards the kingdom of the Devas. My quarry was asleep in her drug-induced world. The beauty of the forest cheered me and for some time I was able to push aside my dark thoughts. I enjoyed the cold drizzle on my face, the fragrant wind caressing my skin and I forgot what I had been entrusted to do. I was a si
mple-minded person, wasn’t I?

  It was dark and the sun sinking below the distant hills when I stopped for a rest. She was still sleeping. I felt the stirrings of sexual passion arising in me. Her breasts were still half exposed. I wanted to remove her dress completely and see what remained hidden. As I reached a trembling hand towards her, the baby near her stirred. It jerked me back and I felt ashamed. Then the anger came back. She was mine to do with as I pleased. I had been entrusted with her disposal. I was surprised I had brought her so far. I could have gone a few miles away and finished her off and come back in a few hours. The story to be spread was that we had been taking her and the princess to a village doctor a few miles from camp, as they were suffering from forest fever, but both had succumbed to the illness.

  By now I was miles away from camp. Who would know if I had her? Perhaps the Council would appreciate my act. I moved again and had my hands firmly on her clothes. I tried to unknot her breast cloth. But in my excitement I found it difficult. I had almost got through when she opened her eyes and stared at me like a cow. I cowered, stopped my fumbling, and stood up. Tears brimmed in her eyes and a small drop fell and wet the red silk cloth on the floor of the cart. I felt ashamed and turned my face away. Then she howled – an animal cry of agony, pain, and abandonment. It startled the birds around. The little oil lamp I had carried had toppled over and spread oil stains on the silk sheet. I tried to put it upright but my hands were trembling in fear.

  “You uncouth Asura,” she screamed in a high pitched voice. ‘How dare you touch me?” The baby had woken up and started wailing.

  “Your master never even tried to touch me and you…scoundrel. How dare you?”

  I had regained my anger. She was all alone in a forest and I had been instructed to kill her. I moved towards her as she tried moving away. She attempted to get out of the cart but the flickering oil lamp which had spread oil stains over her clothes, burst into life in the wind and her dress caught fire. Instinctively, I tried to smother the fire but she slapped me hard and ran towards the river, a ball of fire, screaming in pain and anger. She never managed to reach it. I ran behind her, tbehind hrying to catch her, if possible save her. She screamed and screamed, but continued burning. She had fallen a few feet from the bank and was beyond any help. I gave up trying to save her. After all, my job was to finish her off. Yet, she refused to die for a long time. Lying there near the river, a mass of half-burnt flesh, she looked ghastly. She kept cursing the entire Asura clan. She screamed that Ravana had brought her to this and that she would return in the next life to haunt him. I watched her die with an indifference bordering on boredom. Before she died, she howled that she would enter the body of the little Asura princess as a spirit and ensure that the entire Asura clan was destroyed, and the prediction of that astrologer would come true through her wrath, through her chastity and such nonsense. Finally she died when the sky was turning faintly red in the east.

  The baby had stopped crying. I ran towards the cart. She looked at me and there was a flicker of an innocent smile. I did not know what to do and thought of smashing her head on the nearest rock. Then I saw the image of a small girl’s skull splattered in my own house by the Devas. Did I want to do the same thing to this baby? I lifted her and her small fists tightened against my little finger. I could not. I could not at all. I collapsed with the baby in my lap and wept.

  I sat there for a long time and drifted off to sleep with the baby crying in my lap, until other sounds woke me with a jolt. A large hunting party appeared – I saw hundreds of armed men on horses and on foot. They were erecting a camp in a clearing by the river. The baby lay limp and almost blue, perhaps dead. I had to get away from here. The hunting party made enough noise to wake a whole village and I was afraid the baby would awaken and cry. The party looked like Devas, though there were many black-skinned among them. The last thing I wanted was for them to discover the dead Brahmin woman, and me with the baby… I had to get away.

  But when I turned to go, I tripped and fell in the undergrowth. The baby slipped from my hands and rolled a few feet into a slime-covered ditch and let out a howl. To my horror, one of soldiers turned in our direction and I saw him alerting the others and pointing in our direction. They came towards us to investigate. I had clambered up a big Banyan tree, hoping they had not seen me. I was fortunate that the guards did not look up. I saw more soldiers coming and then heard a distinct cry of alarm. They had found the dead Brahmin woman, lying burnt near the river. I saw one of them running towards their main camp. There was some general agitation and I could see them trying to get the baby out of the slime. It was not a deep ditch but the baby was slowly sinking. The soldiers knew that the moment they stepped into it, they would sink into the quagmire.

  A squat man with an air of importance came and the entire party bowed to him and started talking in excited voices. He peered into the ditch and ordered one of his minions to fetch a plough, which he carefully used to lift the baby out of the ditch. He felt for the baby’s heartbeat and on his orders, his servants scattered to fetch various things. After a few minutes, the baby began to cry again and everyone cheered. I also felt like cheering from the canopy of the tree but held back the impulse. Hidden among the branches, I watched them cremate what was left of Vedavathi and learnt from their conversations, that the scholarly-looking man was Janaka, the King of Mithila.

  That afternoon, the men assembled about their King, and with Brahmin priests chanting, the King bent to whisper the name he had given the baby. The entire camp erupted into cheers and the name of the baby, Sita or ‘the one got with a plough’, filled the air. I was happy for the baby. Instead of being eaten by some wild animal, she would now be a princess in a palace. This was a lucky was a lbaby and I hoped she would carry that luck through her entire life. She was my master’s daughter, a princess of Lanka, an Asura princess, but born with a curse, a death warrant for her blasted race.

  Later, after their partying was over and most of them were dead drunk or asleep, I slipped down from tree and entered the camp quietly. I stole some food from the kitchen and drank some wine from the half-empty jugs scattered around. It was then that I had the irresistible urge to see the Asura princess again. I entered the most luxurious looking camp and in the dim light of the flickering oil lamp, I saw the little bundle snuggled coyly in a white silk sheet, near the loudly snoring king. I went close to her and peered into her beautiful face. I stooped and gently planted a kiss on her cheek. Perhaps the vile fumes irritated her, because she pouted and then sucked her lips a few times. I stood for a few minutes, watching her tiny hands and legs. Then, with great reluctance, I slipped away from the camp, tears streaming down my cheeks and my legs weak with emotion.

  As I reached the clearing, I looked back once more. I felt I was leaving my own daughter there and prayed to Shiva to keep her happy. I prayed she would grow into a lovely princess and marry some good Deva prince who would keep her happy

  forever. This King seemed to be a gentle sort and learned and wise. As I walked back through the jungle to the Asura camp, I wanted to take her back and adopt her as my own. I wanted to give her back to my King and confess the truth. I wanted to do many things but I was confused.

  When I was sufficiently far away to think clearly, it struck me. I should have killed the baby. I shuddered at the thought, but had the premonition that she would come back one day. She would return to her clan and be the cause of the destruction of everything her father had fought for. I did not know how I knew, but these thought kept coming back. I prayed to Shiva for deliverance, but deep down I knew that even Shiva was helpless. Perhaps that would be her revenge – the revenge of an Asura princess on a proud and heartless race that wanted her dead even before she had a chance to know life. She would change the history of mankind. But I am running ahead of myself. I doubt whether I knew so much or was so clairvoyant then. All that would come later and consume us all, condemning my country to darkness for many millennia to come.

  29 Let
her live

  Ravana

  I did not want to face anyone. Like a bull in a market, I was exchanged for goods. My people bought me back by paying whatever we had gained from our campaign. The humiliation was complete. In one stroke, Karthiveerarjuna neutralized my army. We did not have anything to take back to Lanka. We had to surrender all our arms, except our personal swords, the horses, the elephants and the gold. And what we got in return was my worthless life. I wanted to die, but then again, the entire sacrifice would have gone to waste. What was even sadder was that I could not put up a fight.

  Vedavathi challenged me to cross the swiftly flowing river and the fool that I was, I dived into the ravaging Narmada. I felt like a teenager trying to impress his girlfriend. But I underestimated the swiftness of the current. And before I could recover from my ill-timed dive, my head hit an underground rock. I almost drowned and then got swept away by the current. When I opened my eyes, I was in a dungeon, chained to an iron bed, like a mad man. Initially, I was angry at myself, at Vedavathi, at the Asuras, and at Karthiveerarjuna, who I guessed was my captor. But soon anger died in the damp dungeon. When the door opened for the stale food which was thrown in, a glimmer of hope gleamed. After a few days, even that died. I soon lost count of the days, the time, and forgot even my ambition, dignity and pride. I was just a rat, scurrying around the dungeon to survive

  They had unchained me after a few days. My spirit was broken, but I kept myself sane by counting the footsteps of the guards outside. I tried to escape and failed miserably. I was beaten by the lowly guards. I would not have minded so much had Karthiveerarjuna come to supervise my torture. I had practiced the words to shock him with. I wanted him to see I could endure anything and that my spirit could never be conquered. But he did not come and I think that hurt me more than anything else. I wept like a child in that dark dungeon; I cried for my lost glories, my freedom, my ambitions. Sometimes I thought of Lanka and my almost-forgotten wife, Mandodari. I yearned for the fragrance of ripe mangoes. I relived the taste of yellow jackfruit, the spray of water from the gigantic falls of the Poorna, near Muzaris, the lapping of waves on the white sands, the swaying of coconut palms on a moonlit night, the smell of jasmine. . .