The Onus of Karma

by Rudra Krishna

  In his note, Rama explained that he felt it would be unfair for Mohan to risk his life on such a foolhardy mission, and for that reason he had decided to go alone, and would meet Mohan back at the same shrine the next morning. He knew it would annoy Mohan and he apologized for that, but explained that he had no desire to get his friend killed because of his own lack of planning. Leaving the note pinned to Mohan’s bag, Rama put a few items in another bag, untied one of the horses and silently led him to a point far away from Mohan. He then mounted the horse and rode him away without waking his friend.

  He rode through the forest, through the empty streets of Mylapore and along the coast towards Fort St. George. The night on the coast was completely unlike the night in the forest, brightly lit by the light of the moon, which was almost completely full. The waves crashing against the beach under the moonlight looked both breathtakingly beautiful and, for some reason, terrifying. They seemed to dance to some secret rhythm that sang of the task to be done that night.

  Rama rode along the beach until he reached a backwater that stood between him and the fort. There was an old and narrow bridge here, but Rama had already decided he wouldn’t use it. He tied his horse to a tree on the bank before taking off his veshti and his angavastram and putting them into his bag, which he tied across his back. Then, clad in his langhot, Rama lowered himself into the water and, as he allowed his body to acclimatize itself to the cold temperature, started swimming towards the fort. The channel branched off into smaller canals, one of which ran through the fort, while the other created a natural moat for the western section.

  Rama swam upstream in the canal that flowed through the fort. As it came into view, he took a deep breath and dove below the surface. It was hard work, since he had to periodically stop and surface for air. Eventually, he reached the outer wall of the fort. Rama paused to observe the positions of the various guards manning the fort wall.

  There was a man standing on the bridge and two men on either bank. The men on the western bank didn’t bother him in any way, so he concentrated on the men on the eastern bank. The bridge that connected the two sides went directly from the fort ramparts on the eastern side to a raised platform on the western side.

  Rama had to climb up one of the pillars of the bridge and swing himself under the bridge from beam to beam till he reached the fort wall. Rama’s arms and shoulders burned with the effort of hauling his body weight as he made his way under the bridge to the inside wall. He perched himself carefully in one of the gaps that were created by the main long-beams of the bridge, and got his breath back before peering downward on the other side.

  The ground was about twenty feet below his feet. Rama took off his bag from across his shoulder and took out a long length of rope from inside. Tying his bag back across his shoulder, Rama tied one end of the rope to one of the buttresses that supported the beams of the bridge and let the other end down. It extended to about seven or eight feet from the ground. He quietly slid down the rope till his feet touched the ground, and immediately pressed himself against the wall, under cover of its shadows, reacquainting himself with the layout of the fort.

  He stood directly behind one of the residential buildings with all its windows completely dark. Everyone seemed to be asleep. Not quite everyone! As he looked at the building in front of him, his eyes caught some movement in the background and he was able to discern a guard patrolling the wall of the inner fort. He examined the inner fortress that housed, among other things, the governor general’s mansion. There was a stairway that led to the top of the wall. This would be his only way of going through right now as all the passages on the inside would be closed for sure.

  He waited till the soldier turned the corner and started walking along the southern wall. He quickly looked to the northern wall to check if there were any guards approaching. There weren’t any. In a split second, Rama made a dash for the residential building that stood about thirty yards in front of him. Pressing himself against the wall, Rama looked up at the top of the fort wall behind him. Both the guards who stood on either side of the bridge were looking away from him and, peering around the side of the building, Rama was able to confirm that no guards were looking his way before he sprinted towards the inner fort.

  He didn’t hesitate for even a second when he reached the foot of the stairs. He pressed himself as low as he could and crawled up the stairs. When he reached the entrance to the guardhouse on top, he looked back at the outer wall of the fort, behind him. The guards were both still looking away, and Rama, instead of going through the little doorway onto the walkway, put his right foot on a window ledge, then reached for the one above it and pulled himself up, before climbing to the top of the guardhouse.

  Staying as close to the roof as possible, he surveyed the area. There were two guards on top of the inner fort’s wall, both of whom were at this moment engaged in earnest conversation on the eastern wall. After a couple of minutes’ conversation they broke apart laughing, one walking northward and the other in the opposite direction.

  Still staying low, Rama took his bag off his back again and, opening it, took out his crossbow. Placing a bolt in its channel, he turned towards the south-eastern corner where there was a little guardhouse on top, and waited for the patrolling guard to come through its doorway, aiming at the centre.

  The guard came through thirty seconds later and had barely come out when Rama let loose his missile. Mohan had indeed constructed his crossbow perfectly, for the bolt found its mark, thudding into the guard’s chest and bringing him down in a second. Rama quickly turned around to the opposite wall. The other guard hadn’t seen anything.

  Staying down, Rama laced another little arrow in the shaft of his crossbow and waited for the guard to turn to the western wall. When he did, Rama aimed long and hard at the heart of the approaching guard before he shot, and the arrow hit its target.

  Jumping softly onto the walkway, Rama ran first to one guard, then the other, to make sure they were both dead. They were. Rama looked all around him, at all the outer walls of the fort. None of the guards on any of the walls were even looking inward. It didn’t seem like he was expected yet.

  Rama examined all that lay inside this fortress long and hard. He didn’t want to make any mistakes now.

  The inner fortress housed six buildings. Four of these were built adjoining the inner perimeter of the fortress administrative buildings, one had an extended wing that reached quite close to the fortress wall, and one that stood by itself across from the western wall of the inner perimeter was Warren Hastings’ residence.

  Rama moved quickly. There was no way to get inside from where he was. That is, no staircase or ladder or such. What Rama realized he could do, however, which was what he proceeded to do, was to jump from the eastern wall of the inner fortress onto the roof of the administrative building. It was a crossing of approximately ten feet, and Rama took it running. Landing softly on the roof and rolling over onto one knee, Rama barely paused before he was up again. He looked over the side of the building for some way to get down. Looking down, he was able to make out a strong rainwater drainpipe running down the length of the building. Assuring himself that there were no other exits from that roof, Rama proceeded to slide quietly down the drainpipe.

  It was an easy drop as the pipe was attached to little ledges at frequent intervals, which Rama was able to use as he would have the rungs of a ladder. On reaching the bottom, Rama’s first move was to flatten himself against the building he had just climbed down and look all around him. He wasn’t being watched. His endeavour seemed blessed.

  Rama knew he had to be careful, because if any of the guards inside the inner fortress wall happened to look out, they would see Rama clearly, there being absolutely no cover of any sort between the wall against which he was standing and the wall of the governor’s mansion. After taking a minute to regain his composure, Rama sprinted hard towards the wall of the governor general mansion, running straight for the shadow on the southern side, whic
h meant he had to run along the eastern wall for a few seconds. When he reached the shadows, Rama allowed himself a minute to stop and get his breath back before looking behind him up at the walls of the mansion. He remembered that the library, the first room he had entered with the governor general, was on the south-eastern side of the house and had French windows on the southern wall, the wall he was standing against.

  Moving back towards the first window that he had passed on the southern wall, Rama was relieved to find that his memory had served him well. It was the French window.

  Taking out his dagger, he poked it through the gap between the two doors until he found the latch and deftly slipped it out of its hook. Looking around him again to make sure he hadn’t been seen, Rama quietly pulled open the door and went inside.

  It had been relatively easy, he thought to himself, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. As he stood inside the library, breathing hard, Rama was conscious of the smell of burning tin and looked around him, wondering where it was coming from. From where he stood behind Hastings’ desk, Rama could see about six to seven feet ahead of him, as the rest of the room was plunged in the darkness cast by the shadows of the bookshelves in the room. Something was very wrong, and Rama had absolutely no idea what it was. Taking his sword out of his scabbard, Rama started to advance forward very quietly. A minute later, a voice yelled, ‘Now men, now!’

  And, before he could react, the room was completely lit up, and Rama found himself staring down the barrels of ten muskets. The burning smell had come from four dark-lanterns, and Rama had walked straight into a trap.

  The light surveillance was to lull him into a false sense of security. Rama felt like a fool. As soon as the lamps were lit, the captain of the guards ordered him to drop his sword. After searching him thoroughly and taking away his weapons and rope, the captain threw him into a small room. His hands were tied over his head and he was hung by his wrists from an iron ring in the ceiling, with his feet about a foot off the ground.

  He remained tied up for a long time. Then, he heard the door opening and a key being turned. Warren Hastings entered.

  The two stared at one another for a while and then Warren Hastings smirked. ‘So Rama, it looks like you found me out.’

  ‘Hastings,’ Rama said conversationally. ‘You had my parents killed. Make sure you kill me, or you’re next.’

  Hastings smiled. ‘It seems improbable, Rama, that you could do anything to me.’

  ‘Why are you doing this, Hastings? What do you stand to gain?’

  Warren Hastings circled Rama in silence. ‘I thought you’d figured that out. I want the Sri chakra, and unless you tell me where it is, I’m going to kill you.’

  Rama debated: if he told the truth, Hastings would have no further use for him. He needed to stay alive even if it was only to prevent Hastings and Haider Ali from getting the Sri chakra.

  ‘I’m not telling you anything, Hastings.’

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing—it’s impressive how willing you and your family have been to die protecting that chakra.’

  Rama kicked at Hastings.

  ‘Rama! Rama! You still labour under the delusion that I wanted to kill your family. I even sent those three bandits to Kumbakonam hoping I would eventually find out about the Sri chakra. I had no desire to hurt anyone, but you people are just so damned obstinate!’

  ‘How did you know I was coming for you?’

  ‘Did you think there was any way I couldn’t have figured it was you who committed all those murders?’

  Rama kept silent.

  Hastings continued, ‘You should have killed Toefal, Rama. When I heard that James and Ronald Morris had both been killed, I knew that you would come for me next.’

  ‘So what are you going to do with me now?’ Rama asked. ‘You might as well kill me because I’m not telling you anything.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll keep you alive for as long as I have to. Toefal is here now, and he’s just been dying to get back at you. A doctor can be most creative with torture, you know, and Toefal feels he owes you a lot of pain. I’ve sent my men to Kumbakonam to find your family. They stay hostage till you tell me where the chakra is. Me, I’m just a simple soldier. I’d whip the truth out of you, but first I’m going to allow Toefal to work his magic on you.’

  With these words, he started walking back towards the door. Then he turned around and said, ‘I’m going to give you a few days to think it over. You’ll be a guest in the prison chamber below. Maybe the other prisoners will show you just how serious I am about what I say.’ And with a mocking bow he called in the guards and instructed them to take Rama away.

  thirteen

  The underground chamber had no windows. A large, crude holding pen, it had a strong padlocked gate behind which the prisoners were confined. The only inlet for air was the trapdoor which led into the chamber; this was opened twice a day when the guards carried food and water for the prisoners. The food was thrown into a long filthy trough, which looked like it had never been cleaned. On his first day in the cell, Rama stayed in a corner, not even daring to look at his fellow inmates. When the food was brought in that evening, the prisoners ran to the trough and started devouring the food. He looked at the broken men around him and closed his eyes. Hastings was going to try really hard to break him.

  ‘Why aren’t you eating?’ A voice broke into his thoughts.

  Rama looked up. One of the prisoners was looking down at him. Like all the other prisoners in that dungeon, he was filthy and had a long beard. But under the grime and wild hair, the eyes that looked at Rama were kind and reflected great intelligence.

  ‘I don’t want to, thank you.’

  Instead of leaving him alone, the prisoner sat next to Rama.

  ‘I remember when I first came here I swore not to eat. I lost track of how long I fasted, but eventually, I cracked.’

  ‘I don’t want to become like them,’ Rama told him. ‘Look at those men eating like animals.’

  The prisoner raised his arms: his hands had been cut off at the wrist. ‘A gift from the British!’

  ‘Why did they do this to you?’

  ‘I was one of a group of skilled skin-and-flesh-reconstruction surgeons. The British made us teach them the art before they cut off our hands so that we could practise it no longer.’

  ‘That’s terrible!’ Rama exclaimed.

  Rama’s horror must have shown on his face because the prisoner went on, ‘Don’t worry, it was a long time ago. I know we seem like degenerate life forms to you now, but I can assure you I never did anything to merit this treatment. What are you in here for?’

  ‘Well,’ Rama said. ‘The British want information from me. Hastings is going to keep me prisoner till I give him what he wants, and then he’s going to kill me.’

  ‘If I were you, I’d take death any day over being in this prison. After a while we all go mad down here.’

  ‘My name is Ramaswami. What’s yours?’

  He replied with a smile, ‘Shantharam, but I haven’t used that name for years!’

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘I don’t know. I lost count after the first two years.’

  ‘Have you ever tried escaping?’

  ‘How? I don’t even have hands. But frankly, it’s impossible. The only way out is the gate that keeps us locked in and the trapdoor which connects this dungeon to the prison above. They don’t bring the keys to the gate when they come down with the food. Even if you open that gate, you’d need someone to open that trapdoor from the outside—that’s locked too.’

  ‘But only four come down, and two of them carry barrels of food and water. Can’t we kill the other two and take their muskets?’

  ‘Where would you hide? They can see everything.’

  ‘There’s always a way. We can’t lose hope.’

  ‘In this dungeon, you will too. What information do the British want from you?’

  Choosing his words carefully, Rama replied, ‘Please don’t misun
derstand me, but I can’t tell you.’

  Shantharam nodded quickly. ‘Certainly, I understand. I hope you find your way out of here.’

  Rama felt irritated with this man who was so obviously intelligent but had given up all hope. For the next few days, he sat in his corner and observed. He had learned to tell time by observing when the guards came in with the food for the prisoners. They came in once in the morning and once in the evening; so Rama knew he had been inside for four days. On his second day he realized that if he didn’t eat, he wouldn’t be able to keep his strength up. Instead of participating in the mêlée when the food was brought in, he retrieved scraps when the others had finished. The conditions in the cell were filthy; a hole in the ground served as a toilet and the place stank.

  Rama spent his days trying to come up with an escape plan, but none seemed likely, not unless he had help from the outside.

  On the fifth day, Rama approached Shantharam. The old man was sitting with another inmate, who looked to be the same age as Shantharam. ‘Ayya, tell me, has anyone tried to escape this dungeon?’ he asked as he sat down with them.

  Shantharam’s companion, Gopalan, replied, ‘There was a prisoner, Vinayakar. We never knew what he was in for. He fashioned a key from some wire and picked the lock on the cell gate. We all rushed with him to the trapdoor, excited at the prospect of being able to escape. But like always, the trapdoor was locked. We came back inside, certain that we would all be massacred for trying to escape. But Vinayakar was irrepressible. He closed the gate just so, so that when the guards came in, he could overpower them. It was madness, but he wouldn’t listen. When the time came, Vinayakar rushed the guards and he was mowed down. There is no way out of here, my friend.’

  Rama sat still for a few minutes. He couldn’t accept that there was no way out. Turning back to the pair, he asked, ‘Would the others join me in an attempt to disarm the guards?’