The Onus of Karma

by Rudra Krishna

  The other two quickly looked over but it was the last thing they did as Rama’s missile flew through his target’s eye and Mohan’s arrow went through the heart. They both slumped to the ground Rama ran over to the first door and gently tried pushing it open. It opened almost noiselessly.

  Looking inside, Rama could make out a man in the bed with his back towards them. Mohan entered immediately behind him and slid the bar across the door. Haider turned towards them.

  ‘Who is that? Haven’t I told you all not to disturb me after I turn off my lights?’

  ‘So sorry. I think we missed that particular order,’ Rama replied.

  Haider Ali stiffened.

  ‘Get up and fight, you son of a whore,’ Rama whispered through clenched teeth. ‘I am Ramaswami Aiyar, here to avenge myself for what you did to my parents.’

  Haider Ali looked nonplussed for a moment and then shouted. ‘Guards!’ He looked at Rama and then at Mohan and said, ‘Surely you must realize that there is no way you will leave this place alive.’

  Rama replied, ‘Haider Ali, perhaps you should not worry about that. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about my neck.’ Rama strode up to Haider Ali and held his sword to Haider’s neck. At this point, Haider went deathly still.

  ‘Get up and die like a man,’ Rama said. ‘Now!’

  Haider was just out of bed when there was a knock on his door, and a voice called out, ‘Father, is everything all right? May I come in?’

  Rama never once turned his back to Haider Ali as he contemplated the situation, looking at Haider with hatred dripping from his eyes.

  ‘Your son?’ And then, as Haider stayed unresponsive, ‘Damn you! You’re pure evil.’

  Before Haider could react further, Rama slit his throat and, as he slumped to the ground, eyes filled with shock at the surprising turn of events, Rama turned the sword in his hand and plunged it straight into his heart. He was dead in an instant.

  Meanwhile, the banging on the door had grown louder, and many voices could be heard outside.

  ‘We’re not going to make it, Mohan!’ Rama shouted. ‘Get out from the balcony.’

  As they sprinted to the balcony, two guards landed from the floor above directly in front of them. As Rama and Mohan stopped and pulled their swords out, the door behind them burst open and guards spilled in. Rama and Mohan were trapped.

  As they stood with their backs to each other, Rama facing the guards who had come in through the door and Mohan the guards who had jumped onto the balcony, a young man strode through the entrance to the room. He would not have been much more than thirty years old, a plump young man with a large moustache like his father’s. Rama stood face to face with Tipu.

  As they stood thus, Tipu advanced on Rama and Mohan with a sword held out. ‘You filthy swine! You killed my father.’

  ‘He killed mine,’ Rama replied. ‘A score was settled today prince. Let us get out of here, and no one need be hurt any longer.’

  ‘You two are the ones who will be hurt,’ Tipu replied. ‘Guards, move in.’

  The two guards on the balcony charged in and Mohan rushed towards them. He spiritedly swung his sword about violently, and the two guards who had rushed forward so enthusiastically could only deflect his blows.

  Meanwhile, on the other side, Rama had moved towards the charging guards and had taken them head-on. The first two had come forward with their swords above their heads. Rama took his dagger out of his waistband and held it in his left hand, with his sword in the right. The soldier to his left brought his sword down first and Rama deflected his blow. With his sword, he cut into the other guard’s torso. As the soldier dropped his guard in pain, Rama moved his sword back towards the first guard who had attacked, who was able to deflect the blow. As they both pulled their swords back, Rama kicked at the second guard’s groin, and as the man fell down Rama moved in with his dagger aimed at the first one’s heart, plunging it in. The guards had barely fallen when Rama looked up and saw a guard swinging his sword towards Mohan’s back.

  Mohan, who had killed one of his opponents, had no idea what was happening behind him and continued swinging his sword at the remaining guard, who was backing away, only deflecting his blows.

  Rama quickly moved towards Mohan but as he did, he heard Tipu scream from behind him. Turning to face him as Tipu came charging with his sword held above his head, Rama held up his dagger as he swung his sword downward. Tipu quickly changed his posture as he tried to deflect the blow, but was too slow and the tip of Rama’s sword caught him in the chest. As Tipu allowed his right hand to fall towards it in pain, Rama quickly grabbed him and spun him around, his dagger held to Tipu’s neck as he backed away towards the wall.

  ‘All of you stop moving or your prince dies,’ he shouted.

  Mohan had succeeded in killing the guard he had been fighting when Rama last saw him and was engaged in fighting off the soldier who had moved in behind him when Rama said these words. His opponent looked at Rama, and Mohan plunged his sword into the distracted guard’s stomach.

  There had been some more men moving towards both Mohan and Rama, but everyone had stopped at Rama’s words and looked at their prince uncertainly, hoping for instructions.

  ‘Nobody needs to get hurt here,’ Rama said, as he turned towards Mohan. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. Haven’t had this much fun in years,’ Mohan replied, grimly. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Rama shouted, ‘Everybody get out of this room. Now, or your prince dies. I am going to leave this fort. Get a fast carriage with two horses ready immediately. I shall come down in an instant with your prince.’

  ‘You are not going to get out alive,’ Tipu told him. ‘Give up now and I shall kill you quickly.’

  ‘Generous, but I’ll take my chances,’ Rama replied. ‘Now shut up.’

  The soldiers stood their ground, looking to Tipu to tell them what to do. Rama looked at them for an instant before digging the point of his dagger into Tipu’s neck roughly.

  Still keeping his dagger pressed to Tipu’s neck, he whispered, ‘Tell your men to get out. You’re not in the best position right now. Follow my instructions and you may live.’

  Tipu hesitated for a few more before shouting out, ‘All of you, out!’

  As the soldiers left the room, Rama reached over to the bedside and picked up some ropes which lay there.

  Tipu said nothing as Rama quickly bound his hands, before cutting off the rest of the rope and slinging it over his shoulder. Mohan came over behind Rama and said, ‘What now? Do you think this will work?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. What do you think, prince? Will we get out of here alive?’

  ‘Who are you?’ Tipu asked in reply.

  ‘My name is Ramaswami Aiyar,’ Rama replied.

  ‘Why did you kill my father?’

  ‘He killed my parents after getting my mother raped in front of my father and the whole village.’

  Tipu looked at Rama quietly without saying anything.

  ‘Now let’s go downstairs.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your parents,’ Tipu blurted out.

  Rama looked at him, surprised. Turning to Mohan, he shrugged his shoulders before turning back to Tipu and saying in reply, ‘Thank you. Let’s go.’

  They walked down the stairs, Tipu in front with his hands tied in front of him, followed by Rama who was followed by Mohan guarding the rear.

  There was no one on the stairs as they walked down. There were soldiers standing at the foot of the stairs, but they moved away as Rama and Mohan walked down with their hostage.

  ‘All of you move away!’ Rama shouted out. ‘Move completely away from us.’

  They continued down the stairs and out of the front entrance. The sight that greeted their eyes terrified them for a second. They were facing the whole of Haider Ali’s army.

  Rama jerked Tipu violently and whispered in his ear, ‘Shout out to everyone to move away from us and the road. Now!’

 
‘Get away,’ Tipu shouted. ‘I don’t want anyone to attempt to stop us.’

  For a few seconds the army looked as if it would ignore the prince’s orders. Then one of the generals turned to face his squad and shouted out, ‘Men, fall back!’

  Soon after the general shouted out these instructions, the others all followed. Rama shoved Tipu into the back of the waiting carriage before turning to Mohan and saying to him, ‘You get into the back with him. If anyone attacks us, kill him.’

  Mohan nodded in reply and climbed into the back of the carriage while Rama went around to the front and climbed onto the driver’s seat before shouting out to the watching army, ‘I would be very careful about any attacks. If I feel even the smallest movement in my direction, your prince will be killed. Don’t make things worse for yourselves. Now everyone, stay out of the way.’

  And grabbing the reins in his hands, Rama rode out of the fort.

  They had driven for about three hours when Rama finally stopped. Getting down from his perch, he called out to Mohan, who alighted and said to him, ‘What now, Rama? What are we going to do with him?’ indicating the back of the carriage with a nod.

  ‘I’m going to find out if he knows anything about this business.’

  He looked into the back of the carriage and said, ‘Could you please join us out here, prince?’

  Tipu got out of the carriage slowly. After getting down, he looked from one man to the other before saying to Rama, ‘Well? What is it?’

  ‘Do you know who I am, prince?’

  ‘You told me. Ramaswami Aiyar,’ he replied shortly.

  ‘Do you know why I came after your father?’

  Tipu looked puzzled as he replied, ‘Because my father killed your parents.’

  ‘My parents were Appayya Dikshitar of Damar village and his wife.’

  Tipu looked more puzzled than ever. He seemed to hesitate for an instant before asking, ‘Is that supposed to mean anything to me?’

  ‘Come now! Are you trying to tell us you don’t know why your father attacked our village?’ Mohan asked loudly, a jeering look on his face

  ‘Yes,’ Tipu replied. ‘I have no idea what you people are trying to tell me.’

  ‘Oh please stop, prince.’ Mohan said to him, pushing him roughly. ‘We’re not fools.’

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t know, Mohan,’ Rama said to his friend. ‘We’re going to let you go now, prince. You should reach your army in a few hours.’

  Tipu turned to him with a confused look on his face,

  ‘What? You are letting me go? Aren’t you worried I might come after you?’

  ‘If you choose to do so, prince, I can’t stop you. But I’ve already told you that your father got my mother raped in front of my father before killing both of them. If, after hearing that, you still want to kill me, then I can’t stop you. Only know that your father got his just desserts. Rule well, and unite your people with love.’

  And, climbing back into the carriage with Mohan at his side, Rama drove away into the night.

  sixteen

  Where to now, Rama?’

  ‘I have been thinking about it. What do you say about going to Tirumala?’

  ‘To look for the Sri chakra?’ Mohan asked.

  ‘Yes, before we go after Hastings, again.’

  They rode in silence for a while. Suddenly, Mohan exclaimed, ‘Rama, stop. What is that over there?’

  Rama turned around in his seat. Behind him in the dark he could make out the vimanam of a temple, lit up by some sort of fire. He alighted from the carriage without saying a word to Mohan and walked towards it. It seemed to be sticking out of the top of a sand mound.

  ‘What is it?’ Mohan asked.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ Rama replied. ‘Looks like a temple. Stay here. I’ll see what it is.’

  The mound was rather large, about ten feet tall, and extremely steep. Rama scrambled to the top and looked in. Directly below him, inside the pit, was a roaring fire and in front of it sat a ragged hermit.

  Rama had been looking at the man for about half a minute when he spoke, ‘Well, come on down. It’s not very polite to spy on people, you know.’

  And then the man looked up. Rama felt like he had met the man somewhere before. There was something disquietingly familiar about him, even though Rama knew he had never met anybody with eyes that shone like gold, like this man.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rama said from the top, smiling. ‘I was surprised to find anyone out here.’

  ‘Why don’t you come down and join me?’

  ‘Thank you. I shall be with you in a few minutes.’

  Rama slid down the mound and went back to the carriage.

  ‘There seems to be an ascetic over there. It’s just a big pit. I never got to examine that vimanam,’ he told Mohan, who had been waiting impatiently for his return.

  ‘What’s he doing there?’

  ‘Nothing. Keeping warm by a fire,’ Rama replied. ‘Come, let’s sit with him for a while and warm up.’

  ‘You go on ahead. I’ll just tie the horses up and join you.’

  Rama joined the ascetic. They both remained companionably silent while the ascetic primed his chillum.

  ‘My name is Ramaswami,’ Rama introduced himself. ‘And my friend Mohan will be joining us any moment. Thank you for letting us sit with you.’

  ‘It’s good to meet you, Ramaswami. My name is Kailasan.’

  ‘Where are you from?’ Rama asked, looking around. ‘What is this place? It doesn’t look like a pit!’

  ‘To answer your first question, I come from Badrinath. To answer your second, no, this isn’t a pit. It’s an old temple.’

  ‘Why is so much of it buried?’ Rama asked.

  ‘Who knows?’ Kailasan replied, nonchalantly. ‘This region probably underwent a drought of some sort many centuries ago. Everybody must have left in search of food and water. The area would have stayed uninhabited for many years and the temple would have been covered by mountains of shifting sand. Or, there might have been a huge flood many centuries ago and this region might have been uninhabited, and when people came back they found it like this and just continued using it as it is. It’s not lost, just different from how it was originally intended. If you go through that door you’ll see about four different corridors, all leading into a little dome-shaped shrine with the oldest lingam in the world.’

  ‘Are you the priest?’

  ‘No. I just stay here. There’s no priest in this temple. People just come and pray in whatever way they feel like.’

  ‘I see.’ Rama inhaled deeply. Something about the ancient temple appealed to him. Maybe there were strong vibrations, maybe it was something else. Rama, at that moment, wanted to go into the garbagriha of the temple and see the deity within.

  ‘Would you excuse me while I went in and looked around?’ Rama asked his companion.

  ‘Go ahead, it’s wonderful. Take a light with you, it’s very dark inside.’

  Rama looked about him for a stick. Without a word, Kailasan handed him one with a cloth tied around one end, along with a little can of oil.

  ‘I see you have one. Thank you,’ Rama said as he took the torch and bucket from him.

  Kailasan smiled at him and Rama noticed that, in spite of his ragged appearance, his teeth were in perfect condition. White and even.

  Rama dipped the cloth end of the torch into the oil and held it to the flames. He was off as soon as it was lit, and was almost through the doorway when he remembered Mohan, ‘Oh, when my friend comes along could you please tell him he can join me inside, or that I’ll be along in a moment.’

  Kailasan smiled, almost fiendishly, as he replied, ‘Oh yes, of course.’

  Rama went inside, feeling uneasy. He couldn’t tell where he had met the man before. He certainly hadn’t given any indication that they had ever met, but then, the smile. Rama kept wondering about the smile. What could it have meant? Why did he smile like that?

  The path he was treading led to the garbagri
ha. It was the most fascinating place he had ever seen. The first thing that grabbed his attention was the lingam, in front of which, stood a statue of a hunter with a ram in one hand and a kamandalu in the other. But the lingam was what held Rama’s attention, he had seen nothing like it. It projected straight from the ground and as he looked up at the completely spherical dome he was under, he realized the structure signified creation. The dome was the womb. Rama held his torch closer to the idol; from the clothes he was wearing, there was no doubt it was Shiva. On the ground, beneath his feet, was the head of a rakshasa.

  There was something magical about the chamber. Maybe it was the cumulative force of the vibrations of spiritual eons, or maybe it was his imagination, but Rama seemed to hear the gods whispering to each other. He propped his torch in a ring on the wall and then sat down in front of the deity. Pulling his legs into the lotus position, Rama closed his eyes and chanted the Gayatri mantra eleven times. He then opened his eyes, got to his feet, bowed before the image and made his way back to the pit.

  Chillum in hand, Mohan sat by the fire with Kailasan, hardly listening to the ascetic’s chatter. As Rama walked towards them, Mohan inhaled another deep lungful of smoke before handing the chillum back to Kailasan.

  ‘… never too much food brought by any of the devotees. There are very rarely any devotees who haven’t travelled a fair distance just to see the temple. Most of them give me money, but what’s the use of money? I ask them to keep their money. Ah, your friend’s back. So Ramaswami, how do you like my little temple?’

  There was an inflexion in his voice when he said this that Rama could not comprehend. It might have been irony, but that didn’t seem likely.

  ‘It is stunning,’ Rama replied, as he sat down. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘I don’t know. It seems like forever,’ Kailasan replied. ‘Would you like a smoke?’ he asked, holding out his chillum.