Vanara Page 12

  Vijaya went to the front corner. Water was trickling through the narrow wedge between the ship’s prow and the rock.

  ‘Let me see how strong you are, son. Give it a mighty blow!’

  Vijaya swung the club and hit the wooden hull with great force.

  ‘Not good enough.’

  Vijaya hit the hull with renewed vigour. The ship shuddered. Sugreeva started climbing up, mouthing encouraging words. He said songs would be sung in all Vanara villages of the bravery of Vijaya. He said that in every slave colony, in every village of Vanaras, a veerakal—a hero stone in his name would be raised. ‘Hit, Vijaya, hit, for your race, for your people, for your freedom, for your leaders, for Ayyan the great God and for all the forest gods, hit till the ship breaks and frees the river,’ Sugreeva kept shouting from the top of the cliff. Every word of Sugreeva energized Vijaya. Water had started gushing from the edges and Vijaya was drenched completely. The ship was groaning and shuddering and the river was straining to break free. Sugreeva took a few steps back, while shouting slogans about Vanara glory and the promise of a great tomorrow to Vanara people.

  With a loud crack and a boom, the river broke free, moving the ship off its path and splintering it into many pieces. It rushed down, swallowing everything in its path and grabbing whatever it could from either bank. Sugreeva said a silent prayer for Vijaya as he watched the fury of the river. ‘Our sacrifice for you, mother Narmada,’ Sugreeva said. ‘We have nothing else to give other than our lives and we have sacrificed the life of our brave son, Vijaya. Now go forth and destroy Ravana’s camp.’ Sugreeva laughed aloud, above the roar of the river. He was feeling ecstatic. For a moment, the thought that he was responsible for the death of Vijaya stung his conscience. He pushed such useless thoughts away. Everything was for a great cause. He would keep the promise to the poor boy. He would raise hero stones in a few villages in his name. He would pay the bards some money and ask them to make some songs about the boy. He would tell them how Sugreeva and Vijaya had together made the river free and bid her to swallow Ravana. He would tell the bards how mother Narmada had appeared in her divine glory and said, ‘I am taking Vijaya, my beloved son to my bosom. But I am gifting Sugreeva to mother earth, for he has many glorious deeds to do on earth.’

  Sugreeva wanted to dance. He wanted to swirl his club and do a wild Vanara dance. He searched for the club and remembered he had given it to Vijaya. The river had carried it away along with the boy. Sugreeva discarded the grief of losing his club and started dancing. The sun was rising above the hills and he could see that even the city of Mahishmathi was inundated and muddy water rippled in the streets. His dance became more vigorous. It would have been nice to have drummers who could keep rhythm with his dancing feet, but it didn’t matter. He had rhythm in his mind. He was an artist, a musician, a sculptor—he was whatever he wanted to be. Hell, he should have had his club. He could have swirled it and twisted it, smashed a few stones with it, hurled it high and caught it mid-air or flung it at a tree. Some losses are tough to accept. He would get a new club. He would take some money from the loot and get a club of gold made with it. It was his money, earned by his intelligence and hard work. He could even have a few diamonds embedded in it. Aha, Aha, Aha, Sugreeva danced, covered in sweat and laughing like a mad man.

  His dance stopped when his eyes caught the glint of steal by his side. He stood panting, staring in shock and surprise at the two dozen Mahismathi warriors pointing their swords and spears at him. The river roared in laughter and rushed to the distant sea.

  Chapter 17

  Tara was helping her father dress the wound of an eight-year-old boy, when she heard the news. People were rushing towards the city. The Vanara warriors who had gone north in search of money to build their city had come back. She excused herself from her father and hurried to the city. She was excited and happy, but as she neared the city, it appeared gloomy. She could hear the screams and shouts of Baali. She ran through the gates and saw Baali holding Nala two feet off the ground. His fingers were around Nala’s throat and the builder was thrashing his legs, struggling to get off Baali’s grip. People were trying to calm down Baali. Riksarajas was struggling to free Baali’s vice-like grip on Nala’s throat.

  ‘Baali,’ Tara cried, and Baali froze. He slowly turned his head and Tara saw his eyes were red and swollen. He looked haggard.

  ‘Leave him,’ Tara said. Baali threw Nala and people rushed to attend to the semi-conscious builder. Baali staggered, as if in a daze. Tara tried to touch him, but he walked away. He stumbled on the heap of copper and silver coins strewn on the ground without a care and dragged himself towards his cave. Tara ran behind him.

  ‘Baali, Baali . . .’ She caught up with him and grabbed his hand. He didn’t pause. He was walking, as if drunk, dragging her along. She ran to stand on his way. He was mumbling something, but didn’t appear as if he had seen her. He sidestepped with a faraway look and kept walking. He staggered through the steps, unaware of the presence of Tara near him. He stumbled on the uneven steps, got up and continued to climb. As he entered the cave, the emptiness caught Baali’s despair and amplified it many times and Tara heard what he was murmuring, ‘Sugreeva . . . my brother . . .’

  ‘What . . . What happened to Sugreeva?’

  Tara dreaded the answer. Baali continued to stumble through the damp, musty cave. A bat flitted past their heads. She tried to hold him, prevent him from falling and breaking his head. He shrugged her away.

  ‘Baali . . . Baali,’ she cried.

  ‘Sugreeva . . . Sugreeva,’ he mumbled.

  The cave caught their sounds and echoed them back. He tripped at the edge of the stone cot and fell. ‘Baali,’ she screamed. The cave screamed back, and the echoes died down in a whimper. He coiled into himself, keeping his cheek on the cold stone. She stood at his feet, not knowing what to do. In the dim light that pervaded the oppressive air, she could see him. He was shivering, sobbing and talking gibberish. She sat near him and touched his shoulders.

  ‘Baali . . . please . . . what happened?’

  Baali turned and held her hand, ‘They say Sugreeva is dead, Tara.’

  ‘Wh . . . what are you . . .?’

  Tara’s head was swimming. Sugreeva dead? Her heart was heavy as a mountain. It can’t be. Must be a cruel joke.

  ‘He went away without even saying goodbye. I didn’t even see his face one last time. Someone misguided my boy.’

  Tara turned her face away. She no longer wanted to be in the cave. Her head was bursting.

  ‘Tara, Tara, tell me, it isn’t true. You are wise. Sugreeva can’t die, not so young, not while his brother Baali is alive.’

  Tara couldn’t control her tears. She covered her face with her palms and cried.

  Baali jumped up from the cot. ‘Where is my mace? I want to break that bastard’s head. That fool. That Nala, he took my boy away from me and brought him dead. I want to break his head. Where is my mace? My mace?’ Baali stumbled on the mace which fell with a clang. He picked it up and roared. The cave roared back many times.

  ‘Baali, my son . . .’

  Tara heard the voice echoing from the entrance. Riksarajas. She ran to him. The eunuch ignored her and ran to his son. She rushed behind Riksarajas.

  ‘Put it down, you fool,’ Riksarajas ordered.

  ‘Where is that fool, that Nala? Who wants his wealth? He has brought immense wealth to build a city after sacrificing my Sugreeva. Who wants to build a city where my brother won’t live? The fool has killed my brother. I want to crack open his head.’

  ‘Put that mace down. Now!’

  ‘Move away,’ Baali cried and swung the mace. Tara screamed. Riskarajas stood dazed as Baali pushed him out the way and ran out.

  ‘Stop him, Tara, before that fool kills someone.’

  ‘Baali, I sent Sugreeva,’ Tara cried. Baali stopped as if he was caught in a lasso. Her words died down slowly in the cave. Baali turned towards her. Her knees went weak. He walked towards her and she was
ready to die in his hands. He walked past her and his mace fell down with a clang. He went to his cot and sat on it, like a stone.

  ‘Baali . . .’ Her voice trembled. The stony silence sent a chill down her spine. She sat near him, without speaking a word. She heard Riksarajas walk away. The silence thickened. She waited for him to come out of his grief. He didn’t speak. It grew darker in the cave. The bats returned. The sound of water dripping down somewhere gave rhythm to the silence. When the heaviness of the crushing silence became unbearable, Tara fell at Baali’s feet.

  ‘Forgive me,’ she sobbed.

  His trembling hands lifted her up. ‘What is your fault, Tara?’ his words didn’t soothe her guilt. She had made the man she loved lose what he loved the most.

  ‘I . . . I sent Sugreeva to find money for our city.’

  ‘He would do anything for me, Tara. It wasn’t your fault. And I have been listening to my heart. I can hear him. He is alive. I can feel it in every part of my body. He is in danger, but alive. He is calling for my help. I must hurry.’

  Baali stood up. Tara grabbed his wrist, ‘Please . . .’ she was scared.

  ‘Leave me, Tara. I must go. I must find my brother. He can’t be dead.’

  ‘People say there is a war out there between Ravana and Arjuna’s men,’ Tara said, fear gripping her voice.

  ‘All the more reason I should go, Tara. My boy is in danger. I have to go.’

  ‘Baali, please . . . What if he is already . . .’

  ‘No!’ Baali yelled, shocking Tara, ‘If he is dead, where is his body? How can I sleep here, when my brother is in peril? I must go, Tara. Don’t stop me.’

  Baali rushed to his mace and put it on his shoulders. He walked out with deliberate steps. Tara ran after him and hugged him from behind. Baali stopped and lifted her chin. ‘I thought you were brave. Why are you crying?’ Baali tried to lighten the moment.

  When she turned her face away, he said, ‘Tara, look after my father. I will be back soon with Sugreeva.’

  Tara nodded. She heard him keep the mace down. He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead, ‘If I come back, I will come to your home. I will ask the Vaidya whether he would give the hand of his daughter in marriage to a monkey.’

  Before she could reply, his lips were on hers. She stood forgetting everything, unmindful of the tears flowing down her cheeks. She had been waiting to hear these words, but when they were said, she felt fear more than ecstasy. Was she the right woman for Baali? Could she make him happy? She pushed such thoughts away. He was hers and nothing else mattered.

  When she opened her eyes, he was gone. She climbed down the steps with a light head and a heavy heart. At the last step, a dark thought came from nowhere. Baali had said, if he came back. What if he didn’t?

  Chapter 18

  It was past midnight, but the argument that had started the moment Baali had left the unfinished city was refusing to die down. The council members had come and were insisting that the money that Nala brought be handed over to them. The money belonged to Vana Nara tribe and was not to be wasted on building cities. They were not Devas or Asuras to live in any cities. They were Vana Naras and were supposed to live in tiny huts in the forest, or perhaps in caves. That was what Ayyan wanted. That was what the scriptures of Devas said. Devas would be angry if Dasa Jatis like Vana Naras built cities. A Dasa should wear only one cloth, should walk bare feet, and sleep on a dirt floor. Those were the rules. Besides, the council had come to know that the money was looted by Nala. The revelation shocked Tara. Did Baali know about it?

  Riksarajas was abusing the three council elders, Kesari, Jambavan and Rishabha, in the choicest of words. He was standing near the pile of the silver coins, swinging his club and daring anyone to come near him. Nala and the labourers were huddled in a corner, waiting for the outcome of the argument. Tara knew what was happening. The council was scared. Until now, they had tried their best to scuttle the city building and were sure that without labour, Baali’s city would never be built. But with the news of the money spreading like wildfire, more people had started arriving from distant villages. In a city built by Baali, the council didn’t expect anyone to obey them. Tara knew the three men were desperate to keep their hold and she was determined to protect Baali’s dream at any cost.

  ‘When men are talking, how dare you interrupt, girl?’ Rishabha asked Tara as soon as she attempted to calm them down. Riksarajas came forward swinging his club.

  Tara stopped him with a gesture and said, ‘I respect all the elders, but the work on the city will go on.’

  ‘Says who? While we are alive not a stone will be lifted here. We will excommunicate everyone,’ Rishabha threatened. Kesari and Jambavan were frowning at her.

  ‘You have already excommunicated everyone. Go jump into Pampa now,’ Riksarajas said. Tara pleaded with him to keep quiet and let her handle the issue. The eunuch grunted and took another swig from his toddy pot.

  ‘Daughter, this is sin,’ Kesari said to her. ‘This is looted money. My son told me.’

  Tara searched for the famous son of Kesari, but he was nowhere to be seen. She wanted to know the truth.

  ‘It is our money,’ Nala cried and the gang of Vanaras who had gone with him agreed loudly.

  ‘These three are trying to loot these boys. There is only one treatment for such greed.’ Riksarajas swung the club and moved forward. Rishabha swung his mace.

  Jambavan shoved them back and said, ‘Enough. There is nothing to discuss. We don’t want any city. For thousands of years, we have lived as per our customs. The two upstarts and this eunuch want to change everything. Fortunately, one of the upstarts is dead and the other will die soon.’

  That provoked Tara. She said, ‘This can’t be decided by three people. Whether Vana Naras need a city or not should be decided by Vana Naras.’

  ‘We are the chiefs. We are the council,’ Rishabha growled.

  Tara ignored them and turned to the crowd. ‘Those who think we deserve a city like those of Asuras and Devas move forward to me. Those who think they want to continue living in tiny huts or in the open, in remote caves deep inside the jungle or as slaves in the homes and cities of others may move behind the three chiefs.’

  Not a single person moved, either to Tara or to the council. Kesari said, ‘See daughter. Everyone fears the great Ayyan. The traditions are for a reason. They are divine decrees. We are Dasas and we should not aspire more in life. Baali . . .’

  Tara raised her hand, ‘We will have a decision soon. No one wants to defy you three openly. If they didn’t want the city, they would have come behind you.’

  ‘Ah, the Vaidya’s daughter is speculating. Kesari, why should we talk to this chit of a girl? Women should not open their mouth and like fools, we are listening to her girlish prattle,’ Rishabha scoffed.

  Tara flushed with anger. She restrained Riksarajas who had jumped forward again, swirling his club and shouting expletives at the three chiefs.

  ‘Those who support the three chiefs may bring one pebble each and pile it under the first palmyra tree in the grove,’ Tara said, pointing to the sacred grove by the river. ‘And those support Baali should pile their pebbles under the seventh palmyra tree.’

  ‘What is this? A girl’s game of hopscotch?’ Rishabha laughed.

  ‘To ensure that you will take your decision without any fear, the three chiefs and myself will come there to count only after the last of Vana Naras present here has put his pebble.’ Tara said.

  Rishabha was about to protest, but the labourers had started walking towards the grove. The three chiefs huddled in an intense discussion. Riksarajas took another gulp from his pot of toddy and walked to the grove, singing a loud limerick. Tara stood alone, tense about the outcome of the voting. No one had done anything like this before in the Vana Nara tribe. What if the majority rejected Baali’s city? Would she have betrayed Baali? What answer would she give him? And there was the pesky issue of the money coming from a loot. It was well past midni
ght and her father would be awake, worried. She hoped her father would understand and be secretly proud. She was doing this for Baali. She prayed Ayyan would not be angry and make her lose the city. Nala called out to them to count the pebbles.

  Tara was sweating by the time she reached the grove. She had developed a severe bout of headache. A cold breeze blew from the river, rustling dry leaves in the grove. Countless stars blinked from the sky. She nodded when Nala asked permission to count hers and the chiefs’. She didn’t want to go near the palmyra trees and see how she stood. What if she had lost and there was only one pebble in her side, the one of Riksarajas. She stood at the border of the grove, staring at the river hurrying towards the distant sea. She thought about Baali and wondered whether he would be sleeping under the stars. The same stars that were winking at her would be winking at him too. She smiled at the thought. She thought about that day in the cave when they woke up in each other’s arms and blushed. She was shocked by the sudden commotion.

  ‘This is unacceptable,’ Rishabha was shouting.

  ‘Jump into Pampa and drown,’ Riksarajas cried.

  Tara rushed to the palmyra trees. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There were hardly a dozen pebbles in favour of the council chiefs. The city has been saved. She had saved the city for Baali. She fell on her knees and cried.

  ‘Get lost old monkeys,’ Riksarajas screamed, waving his club. ‘You have lost. Bury your old traditions forever, Ayyan is with us. Ayyan wants us to be free and not to remain Dasas forever. We are building a city. We are building Kishkinda. You can rot in the jungle.’

  ‘We don’t accept this, eunuch,’ Rishabha screamed. ‘These young monkeys were enticed by her charms.’

  Blood drained from Tara’s face. When they had lost, they were blaming her character, shaming her, trying to bully her, just because she was a girl. Not a man was supporting her. Not even those who voted for her cause. They were sniggering, enjoying her being shamed.