The Onus of Karma

by Rudra Krishna

  ‘And provide you enough men to draw out the fire of the two muskets?’ Shantharam asked, matter-of-factly.

  Rama looked at him for a moment, and replied, ‘I suppose you’re right. It would be as good as asking someone to do that.’

  Shantharam and Gopalan exchanged glances. Shantharam asked, ‘Why exactly are you in here, Ramaswami? What is the secret that the governor general has been trying to get out of you?’

  Rama had no option—if he wanted their help, he would have to confide in them. ‘Have you ever heard of the Sri chakra?’

  They knew of it as a legend. Rama confirmed the existence of the chakra and keeping his facts to a bare minimum, impressed upon them the catastrophic consequences of the chakra falling into the hands of the British.

  ‘The fact is that I don’t know where it is hidden,’ Rama admitted. ‘But I let Hastings think I did so he would not kill me. I have to find it and keep it somewhere safe.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s safe now? After all, it has not been found.’

  Rama paused. He had been in a dilemma about this too. Finally he said, ‘I know that if it had been hidden where my father said he was going to hide it, then a few other people probably know the secret. I have to get it to a place where no one will ever find it.’

  The two men seemed lost in thought for a while. Finally, Gopalan said, ‘Fine! We’ll help you. What’s your plan?’

  The plan was simple and dangerous. Rama would somehow open the gate of their holding pen and station himself near it. When the guards arrived with the food, he would quickly disarm the guard in front and then kill the other guards. Shantharam and Gopalan would provide the diversion Rama needed to succeed. The whole thing was planned for the evening, when security around the fort was less.

  After the first meal the next morning, Rama searched all over for something to use to open the door with. He could find nothing; his plan would have to wait. Just as Rama was beginning to despair of ever finding anything of use, the trapdoor creaked open. This was unprecedented. The trapdoor never opened in the middle of the day. As he breathlessly watched, a man descended the narrow stairs—Mohan!

  ‘Mohan, here! We need to open this gate,’ Rama said urgently. There was no time for thank yous.

  Mohan took a slim knife and efficiently picked the lock on the cell door. It had barely opened when the other prisoners rushed forward. Rama waited for them to go through and about five of them left the dungeon and ran up the stairs and out of the trapdoor. As Rama exited, Mohan said to him, ‘Give them a minute. They are the perfect diversion.’

  ‘Give me your dagger,’ Rama replied. ‘And wait here for a moment.’ He ran back into the dungeon to Shantharam and Gopalan and said to them, ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  Both men shook their heads. ‘Run, you fool. We’ll only be a handicap.’

  ‘Please come with me. I’ll get you out. The world needs to hear your tale.’

  ‘Gopalan is right. We would only slow you down. Hurry.’

  Rama stood there for a minute indecisively till Mohan’s voice snapped him back to action, ‘Come on, Rama; let’s go.’

  With a last look at the pair over his shoulder, Rama said, still looking into Shantharam’s eyes, ‘My friend, I will never forget you. My prayers will be with you.’

  ‘Go on, go to the chakra and prevent these villains from getting their hands on it.’

  And then turning to look at Gopalan one last time, Rama ran to the door.

  ‘I hope no one found my ropes,’ Mohan told him.

  ‘What ropes?’ Rama asked, as he reached the stairs. ‘To get out of the fort, you mean?’

  ‘Yes, the southern wall was completely unguarded.’

  ‘The guards will have run on to the walls as soon as the alarm sounded, and the ones on the ground will shoot at us. Let us try to escape through the streets of the city,’ Rama gasped, as he ran.

  ‘How?’

  Rama said nothing.

  They ran outside, clutching their weapons—Rama a dagger and Mohan a sword. As they reached the top of the stairs, Rama leading the way, he heard footsteps approaching them rapidly. It was a guard rounding the corner ahead of them, running at them. Before he could even think, he had plunged his dagger into the guard’s heart. As the man fell, Rama took his musket and thrust the dagger into the waistband of his veshti. Turning to Mohan he said, ‘Well, that gives us one shot.’

  ‘Great. Now hurry,’ replied Mohan.

  They ran down a corridor till they reached a point where it branched.

  ‘Take the one to the right,’ Mohan shouted.

  Without pausing, Rama turned into the passage on his right and continued running down, the musket in his hands, ready to be used. This corridor sloped upward and as they ran up, Rama realized it would lead into the open courtyard in the middle of the prison. It was completely dark by this time, and from behind him, Rama could hear the cries of the guards shouting instructions at each other. The other prisoners seemed to have taken another passage that led to an open area further inside the fort, providing them with an excellent diversion.

  When they reached the open courtyard, Rama stood still for a couple of moments, slightly disoriented from being out in the open after five days of imprisonment.

  Mohan ran to the southern wall from where a rope was hanging and shouted out to Rama, ‘Come on, we don’t have any time to lose.’

  ‘This is insane. We definitely won’t make it that way. Come on. Let’s find a cart.’

  They ran towards the stables at the western end of the fort where they saw two young boys leading a trap with two horses into the inner fort. They ran up to them and knocked them out.

  Rama took the reins, and expertly guided the horses through the fort and out of the northern gates. This was the side that overlooked the city. The fort was crowded with people streaming in and out, but Rama maintained his speed as the pedestrians threw themselves out of the way of the speeding trap. Mohan kept watch behind them; there didn’t seem to be any guards following them.

  Once they entered the city, they drove westward. They drew many curious glances from the passers-by, especially Rama with his dirty torn rags and uncombed long hair. When they finally reached the western wall of the city, he drove along it till he reached the western gates, and exited. The alarm hadn’t been sounded yet, so none of the guards were expecting any trouble. It was to be a long while before they discovered that they had unwittingly waved one of the prisoners and his accomplice through, and out of, the city of Madras.

  Rama drove in a westward direction while Mohan went to the back and lay down.

  He would need a better plan to get rid of Hastings, and he still had no ideas.

  fourteen

  ‘What do you mean by disappeared?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, nobody has any idea where they might have gone. The police station was in a state of shambles. The maharaja has taken over control of law enforcement.’

  ‘Did you find any of his old deputies or constables?’

  ‘None, sir. It’s as if he never existed.’

  Warren Hastings stood by his desk, looking out at the Bay of Bengal. He was getting sick of the oppressive heat of Madras. When he had received news of the Morris brothers’ deaths, he had sent men to Kumbakonam to arrest Rama or, if he couldn’t be found, his family. But now, Rama had escaped Hastings’ own clutches, and his family was untraceable. Annoyed, he tapped his fingers on the table top for a few minutes before turning around and telling the soldier, ‘Very well, Captain. Take a squad of men and search the village of Damar, less than ten miles from Kanchipuram. That is where he comes from—he probably sent his family there, and will join them soon. Also, send out some men to get whatever information you can about the wife’s family.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  ‘Oh, and Captain …’

  The young soldier turned around to face the governor general. He had no idea what Hastings wanted with this provincial. Didn’t he realize that it was
practically impossible to locate a native if he wanted to disappear?

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Don’t mention this to anyone, will you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The soldier saluted smartly and left.

  Two days later, Hastings was discussing prices with a group of weavers when he was told that Captain Johnston had returned. He quickly wound up his negotiations, agreeing to what the weavers wanted, before sending them away. After all, it wasn’t such a large amount, and the company could afford to pay the actual value of something for a change. The two surprised but grateful natives had hardly left the room when the young captain was ushered in.

  ‘Yes, captain? Do you have good news for me?’ Hastings asked.

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir. Neither Ramaswami Aiyar, or his family have been seen in Damar. No new families have moved into the village either.’

  ‘All right,’ Hastings said, annoyed by this turn of events, ‘and the wife’s family?’

  ‘They were living on Brahmin Street for many years, sir. They left about a year after their only daughter married Aiyar, and they told everyone they knew that they were moving to Thanjavur to be with their daughter and son-in-law.’

  ‘Are you telling me we have no idea where to find this man?’ Hastings asked, raising his voice.

  ‘I have sent out notices to all the Presidencies and all the friendly kingdoms, sir. Is there anything else I should do?’

  Hastings thought about it long and hard. There really wasn’t much.

  fifteen

  Rama and Mohan left the road ten miles outside Madras and drove through forests for the next two hours along Buckingham canal until they reached the point where Cotter’s canal joined it. Here, Rama decided they needed to stop and get a little rest. They tied up the horses and rubbed them down with some hay before washing up themselves. After Rama changed his torn and grimy shirt for a clean white cotton shirt that Mohan had brought with him, they went in search of food.

  There were a number of huts nearby that belonged to fishermen who worked in the lake at the other end of Cotter’s canal. This was a major source of fish in the region, and a very busy point with plenty of waterborne traffic and two piers. These were fairly independent communities and though they traded with the British, they also kept them at a distance. Rama knew the men would not betray him and Mohan even if they learnt that they were fugitives.

  They walked into one of the commercial establishments on the pier and asked for three dosais each. The food was parcelled in little strips of plantain leaves and Rama and Mohan returned to their cart.

  They ate in silence till Mohan looked up at his companion rather suddenly and asked, ‘So what is our next step, Rama?’

  ‘You go back to Damar. I’m going back to my wife and son.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s what you’re going to do?’ Mohan asked suspiciously. ‘Are you sure you’re not going after Hastings and Haider Ali?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Rama replied, with a reassuring nod. ‘I have to go to my family.’

  ‘I don’t trust you, Rama.’

  ‘Well, I will go after Hastings and Haider Ali,’ Rama admitted. ‘But first, I’m going to check on my family.’

  ‘Let me come with you. I don’t want to let you go alone.’

  Rama looked at his friend long and hard. Mohan had proven to be a huge asset, and while he appreciated that he needed help, he also knew’could not allow Mohan to risk his life for him.

  ‘It’s far too dangerous, Mohan, and the risk should be mine alone.’

  ‘Listen, you need me, and I don’t want you to go alone. We can stop at the village on the way to Chitoor, and I’ll pick up some more weapons.’

  ‘Mohan, I …’

  ‘Stop, Rama,’ Mohan cut in, holding up his hand. ‘I am going with you. That’s final.’

  Rama smiled slowly and nodded. ‘Very well, brother. Let’s go to Chitoor.’

  The next day, they woke up early and ate hot idlis with coconut chutney before heading towards Damar. Rama brooded silently while Mohan drove. His encounter with Periyavar had puzzled him. His guru had neither encouraged nor discouraged him from his course of action, but Rama really wanted some guidance. He wasn’t sure anymore if revenge would serve any purpose other than assuaging his own guilt. He believed in what he was doing. He knew he would never be satisfied until he had avenged his parents’ deaths, but he was not sure if it was worthwhile. He had other responsibilities. The Sri chakra and his family and, now, Mohan and his family.

  Haider Ali and Hastings were two of the most powerful men in the region, and he knew taking both of them on was foolhardy. On the other hand, he realized they would never let the matter end there either. He was committed to fighting this battle to the death, because his enemies were too far into this campaign to give up. Better then that he be the aggressor, rather than be on the defensive when they attacked.

  Unfortunately, Mohan did not agree with him; he thought Rama was too far steeped in thoughts of hatred and revenge to see things for how they were. The wheel, he said, was safely hidden away. Rama hastily pointed out that the only reason Mohan thought the wheel was safely hidden away was because no one knew exactly where it was. What would happen when the news that it was hidden somewhere in Tirumala got out, he asked Mohan. Neither Warren Hastings nor Haider Ali would hesitate to tear down the temple in their quest for the wheel. Mohan did not answer, merely maintaining that Rama had always sought violence as a solution to his problems.

  When they reached Damar, Rama chose to stay at the temple with the horses while Mohan went home to get the weapons. The village was dead to Rama, as were all the things that had gone into making it his home.

  ‘We have swords, daggers and bows,’ Mohan told Rama when he returned an hour later carrying a sack filled with weapons. ‘And enough arrows to face a small army. Come, let’s be on our way.’ Rama stalled, ‘What did your parents say? Did they ask you where you had been? What did you say?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Mohan replied, airily. ‘I told them that I had gone down to Madras with you to sort some work out, and that now I was going with you to Thanjavur. I needed to name some slightly faraway place so I could explain why I’ve been away for so long.’

  Rama suddenly felt extremely moved. ‘You have always been there for me, Mohan. Thank you.’

  The city of Chitoor was a flourishing one. It was situated about one and a half days’ travel from Damar, and Rama and Mohan reached there late in the morning of the second day.

  They drove into a noisy, unsettled city with soldiers rushing everywhere. It seemed like they were preparing for war. Haider Ali was in the district, less than a day away, having recently arrived at the fort of Chandragiri. The coincidence was unmistakable, perhaps a sign from the gods. Whatever it was, Rama knew he had to make the first move. He had no idea why Haider Ali was in Chitoor, but he knew he couldn’t let him leave.

  Rama was hesitant to go to his wife’s parents’ home without speaking to Sita first. He decided to wait in the marketplace for a while till he could meet her alone. He told Mohan that she used to buy vegetables fresh every afternoon for the next morning’s cooking, and that it was more than likely that she would do the same while she was living with her parents.

  Chitoor was a prosperous town, filled with a variety of traders and businesses. The news of Haider Ali’s imminent attack did not seem to have affected commerce much, unless, Rama reflected, it was generally even busier than this. The afternoon was busy with travelling minstrels playing music in different quarters, and people shouting to each other across the marketplace.

  Rama drove to the mouth of the street where his in-laws lived and stopped the cart, not sure what to do next.

  ‘We could eat at that tiffin stall,’ Mohan said, pointing across the road. ‘It’s right across from the street, so we should see your wife whenever she gets here.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Rama replied, nodding his head in agreement ‘I was thinking of something heavier, but no doubt
she will cook us something when we go home.’

  They went into the stall and ordered two pessarettus each, which arrived five minutes later along with a vessel of spicy gojju: a concoction of onions, tomatoes, garlic and green chillies. As they ate, Rama observed the people walking in the crowded marketplace of Chitoor. Though it was a busy little town, it still seemed relatively untouched by the British. Of course, there were a few white people moving about, but they were traders rather than invaders.

  It was at one time the capital of the kingdom of Chitoor, or what was now known as Chitoor district. Ruled till the sixteenth century by the Vijayanagar empire, it was taken over by Venkatapatideva Maharaya of the Aravidu dynasty. The capital was brought to Chitoor when the king began ruling from Chandragiri fort instead of Hampi, the traditional seat of the Vijayanagar royalty. The fort had grown in importance for the next two hundred years till the sultan of Golconda took over. The sultan had been defeated by the British and the French in consecutive battles and driven out from the fort. It was here that Haider Ali had now set himself up.

  Just as Rama finished his first pesarettu, he noticed Sita walking into the marketplace, and stopping by a vegetable vendor. As he looked at her, Rama drew a deep breath. He still could not believe her beauty had meant nothing to him for so long. As she walked towards the cart, her head held high, Rama remembered how it felt to hold her in his arms. Her eyes, which looked so authoritative and unapproachable, twinkled with love when she looked at him, and he wondered again whether he was doing the right thing in fighting two such powerful enemies. Shouldn’t he be content with growing old with her?

  Pushing his second pesarettu towards Mohan as he got to his feet, Rama said, ‘Here, finish this. She is here.’

  He went behind the stall to wash his hands and, when he emerged, saw his wife examining a pumpkin. Rama waited by the entrance of the tiffin stall and watched as she picked out plantains, okra and sweet potatoes. He started moving towards her as she paid the vendor, and was within five feet of her when she picked up the little bag filled with vegetables, turned and saw him. For a second she stood still and stared at him before running up to him and clutching his arm.