Vanara Read online

  Baali came forward and admired the majestic bull, ‘How did you get this wonderful creature?’

  Sugreeva laughed, ‘I won it.’

  The crowd gasped. Sugreeva beamed with pride. ‘That is the least I can do for my beloved sister-in-law,’ he said, looking at Tara. Tara looked away. Something was wrong. She had a feeling that Sugreeva was lying. Baali caressed the forehead of the bull. The bull gave a grunt and the crowd let out a nervous laughter. Something was sinister about the bull. Its shoulders were five feet from the ground and the muscles rippled in its black body. Its curved horns, almost three feet long were as sharp as swords. The small eyes were cruel, and its nostrils flared in anger, as if it was about to charge. It stood, proud and erect, with untamed wilderness brimming from every inch of its chiselled body. It looked like the bull of Kala, the God of time and death. Tara didn’t want Baali to stand so near the bull. She tried to call Baali and the bull stared at her with its bloodshot eyes. She shuddered with an unknown fear.

  ‘And I have brought so many cows too,’ Sugreeva said, pointing at the herd that filled the street till the fort gate.

  ‘Cows?’ Baali laughed, ‘What will we do with cows?’

  Nala, who was standing beside Baali, answered, ‘Cow is the new money, Baali. For the Devas, cows are holy animals and they worship it like a God. For Asuras, it is a delicious food. The two keep fighting for cows, among other things. The Deva term for war is Gauvishti, the desire for cows.’

  ‘Cows are the greatest gift one can give to Brahmins,’ Hanuman added.

  ‘We will need cows and bulls, if we start farming,’ Nala added, ‘and to sustain the city, we need farming. We have to become civilized.’

  ‘A few may be gifted for virtue,’ Hanuman smiled.

  Riksarajas, who was holding his patience for so long, scoffed, ‘The cows are shitting all over our beautiful city. Your gift is stinking, Sugreeva.’

  Sugreeva glared at Riksarajas. He asked, ‘Already drunk?’

  Riksarajas gave him a derisive smile, ‘Just started. I have saved a cask full of toddy for you.’

  Before Sugreeva could retort and make things worse, Hanuman intervened, ‘Let us continue the rituals.’

  The brahmins started chanting their mantras in a language that no one was familiar with. The scene before Tara’s eyes had an unreal quality, like the dream one vaguely remembers when one wakes up. The bull, that was tied in the grove of the seven palmyra trees, bothered her for no reason.

  ‘Wedding functions are exciting only in dreams. In real life, they’re dreary and boring, isn’t it?’ Sugreeva who was standing near Tara whispered in her ears. Despite herself, she chuckled, and Baali frowned at them. Sugreeva repeated his joke aloud, much to the chagrin of the priests, but Baali laughed loudly.

  ‘Wait till you’re married, Sugreeva. I’m looking for a good bride for you,’ Baali said. Tara saw Sugreeva’s face darken. It was only for a lightning second, but it sent shivers through her spine. The way he was looking at her was not right. She moved closed to Baali and intertwined her fingers with his. He looked at her in surprise, but thankfully, he gave her fingers a squeeze. That was reassuring. She didn’t dare look at Sugreeva. From his forced laughter that boomed in her ears, she knew that Sugreeva hadn’t missed the gesture.

  Soon the Brahmins left, leading the cows they had received as a gift. Hanuman went to see them off after blessing the couple. He was not to return soon as he was entering a month-long penance. The moment the boat across River Pampa vanished from sight, the sober mood changed dramatically. Riksarajas gave orders for the celebrations to commence. It started with the beating of Mizhavu from the top of a nearby rock that towered over the Royal cave. A parai drum picked up the rhythm. Soon, the entire valley was reverberating with wild drumbeats. A huge campfire rose by the bank of the river. Some Vanaras rolled huge wooden barrels of palmyra toddy and started serving them. Wild, out of tune and raunchy songs were sung and soon it descended into a wild party as if to compensate for the rituals of the morning. Social barriers that were carefully constructed broke down and there was an easy camaraderie among the crowd.

  Tara saw another facet of Baali that night. Gone was his stern demeanour. The toddy had loosened him up. He sang the most raucous songs and laughed the loudest. He matched wit for wit with his brother and the crowd roared in appreciation. For a change, Riksarajas was finding it difficult to keep up with the enthusiasm of his two boys. Baali danced with gay abandon and had a drumming competition with his brother. On the silky-smooth river bank, under a full moon that painted everything in buttery yellow, he wrestled with many men, beating them easily and pounding his chest to proclaim his victory every time he slammed his opponent on the ground and pressed his heavy feet on his chest. Tara was laughing her heart out, forgetting that she was a new bride. Sugreeva came to challenge his brother, much to the cheer of the crowd. She watched with bated breath as the two drunk brothers hurled colourful expletives that made her blush and the crowd roared with whistles and howls of laughter. Like two bison in the fight for a mate, they rammed into each other, trying to trip the other, catching each other’s torso, grunting, falling, rolling on the sand, separating, and clashing again.

  As the wrestling progressed, Baali got the upper hand and slammed Sugreeva on to the ground. He held him pressed to the ground and Tara clapped in appreciation. Sugreeva’s eyes met hers and she saw his expression change to pain and then anger. She stopped clapping. With a grunt, he wriggled out of Baali’s grip, grabbed his leg and tripped his elder brother down. Baali laughed and cursed as he got up. Sugreeva stared at Tara and she was scared. She watched him attacking Baali with full vigour. Baali continued to laugh and parred his younger brother’s attacks playfully, but Tara could see that Sugreeva was dead serious. Somehow the crowd sensed that something was wrong. The drums died down and an uneasiness descended. Baali continued to laugh and fight but Sugreeva’s face was contorted with rage. The image of Sugreeva slamming Baali’s head when they were boys came rushing to Tara’s mind. From the darkness of the city, Dundubhi bellowed, sending shivers down her spine. It was like a warning, a premonition that riled some dormant primeval fear in her mind.

  Tara wanted to get between the two brothers and separate them, but they were like two elephants clashing. Soon, despite Sugreeva’s spirited fight, Baali slammed him down and held him firm. He kept his feet on a panting Sugreeva’s chest and beat his broad chest, proclaiming his victory. Baali extended his hand to Sugreeva with a smile. For a brief tense moment, Sugreeva didn’t take his brother’s hand. Baali abused his younger brother in colourful language that would have made Riksarajas proud and a few people laughed. Tara saw Sugreeva’s face flush with anger. But what scared her more was how it changed to a smile in a flash. Sugreeva took Baali’s hand and Baali yanked him up. The drums picked up in frenzy and the crowd cheered.

  Sugreeva hugged his elder brother and patted his back. Tara saw that his eyes were searching for her. She tried to sneak away, to get lost in the crowd but he found her. For a moment, their eyes met, and he winked at her. It sent tremors down her spine. He left his brother’s embrace and rushed to her. Before she could react, he grabbed her hand. Baali stood watching indulgently. To her dismay, she found herself blushing at Sugreeva’s touch. She was scared whether Baali could understand the effect Sugreeva was having on her.

  ‘Sister-in-law,’ Sugreeva said with his charming smile. ‘Why are you hiding here? My brother is waiting for you!’ Before she could react, he lifted her off her feet and threw her to his brother. She would have fallen had Baali not caught her. The crowd burst into laughter again and there were a few bawdy comments. Baali lifted her off her feet and swirled her. She cried, half in fright, half in relief. Faces became a blur as he swirled her, and she grabbed him tight, burying her face in his broad chest. The rawness of his sweat made her giddy. When he placed her back on earth, the world was swimming before her eyes. Baali held her close and proclaimed to his subjects.


  ‘Behold your Maharani Tara,’ Baali said, and the crowd roared in approval.

  ‘Tara, the best of the women, the most beautiful,’ Sugreeva cried and the cheer was deafening this time. She kept her face down. She didn’t want anyone to observe how flushed her face was. She hated herself for the effect Sugreeva was having on her. The rawness of Sugreeva’s sexuality, his audacity and his obsession for her was arising the bitter sweetness of forbidden pleasures in her. She felt she was betraying Baali.

  Baali swooped her off her feet and started walking. The drummers walked before them. She was surprised at what was happening. Sugreeva was hurrying beside them.

  ‘Have you forgotten our ancient custom, Yata?’ Sugreeva said, using the Northern tongue for sister-in-law. ‘The marriage is to be consummated in the grove of palmyras. My brother is taking you there.’

  She was horrified. Why was half the population of Kishkinda following them for something that needs to be done in private? The procession soon reached the grove. Seven towering palmyra trees stood in a line on a hill, like ghosts of a bygone era. As they neared, she saw that the place was breathtakingly beautiful. From the hill, they could see River Pampa taking a turn at a distance. The earth lay bathed in golden moonlight, but there were stars sprinkled in the sky too. Jasmine creepers had entwined the palmyra trees and the star shaped flowers gave a heady fragrance to the breeze. As Baali gently lay her down on the ground, the grass was deliciously soft. Dew had started falling. There air was thick with the smell of Nishagandhi flowers. She stared at Baali’s eyes with all the love she could muster. For a moment, she forgot they weren’t alone. Her lips parted, thirsty for a kiss from her beloved.

  ‘Not so fast, Yata.’

  She was startled when she heard Sugreeva’s voice near her. He was standing behind Baali. She could not hide her shame. He had seen her desire and that was worse than seeing her naked. She hated him with all her heart and was afraid of the hate that was perhaps love in another form.

  Tara saw that Sugreeva was passing pots of toddy again. Anger bubbled up in her mind. This was not right, she wanted to scream. Sugreeva came near her and offered a pot to her. She was livid.

  ‘You’re supposed to drink, Yata,’ he said with a smile. She looked at Baali. He nodded in consent. She was confused. Were they playing a prank on her? Should she take it or refuse it? Sugreeva pressed the toddy pot to her lips and the pungent sweet smell of the white liquor assaulted her senses. She turned her face away. He turned her face towards his. He was so close to her that she could smell him. He smelt like his brother. She was afraid of him and herself. She grabbed the pot and gulped the content down. It burned its way to her stomach and she gagged. She pushed him away and ran to vomit the contents out. Laughter exploded behind her.

  Soon a circle had formed. They were still passing on the toddy pots. Sugreeva was at the centre. His brother sat near him with an indulgent smile. She was confused and didn’t know how she should react. She stood at the edge of the circle as Sugreeva started singing. His voice was rich and melodious. For a moment, she got lost in its fullness. It had the power to carry her away to forbidden lands. She was thankful for the ridiculous dance that Riksarajas did. The eunuch’s dance lightened the mood, breaking the enchantment Sugreeva’s mellifluous voice was weaving around her. She was grateful for the laughter he elicited from the crowd, for she could hide her feelings in smiles.

  ‘I said I would tell a story about you, Yata,’ Sugreeva repeated, bringing her back to reality. ‘I am going to tell a story about how my brother won his beautiful wife,’ Sugreeva said, raising his pitcher of toddy. The crowd cheered. Sugreeva cleared his throat, hummed a few tunes, snapped his fingers to get the rhythm right and started singing. The lyrics formed by itself and filled the grove. It merged with the mist that rose from the bushes and floated away to the river. The palmyra fronds swayed as if keeping rhythm with the song.

  Sugreeva sang about how the gods and demons had once decided to churn the ocean of milk that lay beyond the seven worlds. The great Naga Vasuki was the rope, and Mandara Mountain, the churning rod. Holding the head of the great snake Vasuki were the Asuras under Mahabali and the tail of the snake was held by Devas under Indra. They kept churning the ocean of milk and from it, spectacular things emerged. Celestial nymphs emerged from the waves, the Apsaras like Rambha and Menaka. Devas and Asuras fought to appropriate the women, but when the most beautiful of them emerged, Devas and Asuras were stunned by her beauty. The woman with rounded breasts and narrow hips, fish-shaped eyes, hair so curled and thick like a colony of bees, skin so smooth and dark like ripe Jamun, was none other than Tara. Devas and Asuras fought for her hand, but when the great hero named Baali claimed her, there were none among Devas or Asuras who would dare to challenge. Thus Tara was married to Baali.

  The absurd song was received with much appreciation and applause. Tara didn’t know what to make of it. She remembered her humble hut and an old father who struggled to make his two ends meet, who thought serving people with his knowledge of medicine was more important than acquiring fame or money and chose never to leave the village. She remembered the mother she had never seen. She didn’t want to be an Apsara, she was happy being herself. Baali came to her, unsteady on his legs. He smelt of toddy. He took her by her waist and pressed her to his body. He tried to kiss her, but she shoved him back.

  ‘My Apsara,’ Baali drooled as the crowd roared in laughter. Tara wanted to get away from all the ruckus. She saw Sugreeva smiling at her and knew that he was getting Baali drunk.

  ‘Enough, please don’t drink more,’ she said and to her horror, Baali repeated it aloud. ‘My bride says, not to drink.’ That was received with more laughter.

  ‘I’m the son of Indra, my Apsara. I’m the son of the King of Devas. That is the nonsense that the bards sing. And everyone knows, Devas are the greatest Surapanis, drunkards. They enjoy life,’ Baali said, unsteady on his legs and lisping. People laughed again.

  ‘And you know, my Apsara,’ Baali went to Sugreeva and put his arm over his shoulders. ‘This devil is the son of Surya, the sun God.’

  Another bout of laughter followed. More toddy was passed around.

  ‘I see doubt in your eyes, my Apsara,’ Baali came lurching to her with an idiotic grin. He touched her nose with his index finger. ‘You’re ignorant, my Apsara. Brother, brother . . .’ He went back to Sugreeva who hadn’t had a drop of liquor.

  ‘Brother, tell your story about how Indra and Surya made us,’ Baali said and slapped his thighs. ‘It’s one hell of a story.’

  The crowd roared in appreciation. ‘Yes, tell us the story, tell us the story,’ they demanded. Sugreeva raised his hands and pacified them.

  ‘Once, Aruna, the charioteer of Surya, came early for his work. The sun God hadn’t woken up and it was still dark. Aruna felt bored. He didn’t want to wake up his master. He was pacing in the veranda of Surya’s palace when he heard an enchanting music. He was confused. Who could be singing at this time? Who could be playing the Veena? He started moving towards the sound. He reached heaven, the Sabha of Indra. But the guards stopped Aruna. They said, ‘You could be the charioteer of a big man, but in Indra’s sabha, he is the only male who is allowed. The dance of the nymphs is going on, but you can’t enter.’ Aruna was not pleased with this. He walked back to his master’s palace, but the thought that celebrated beauties like Rambha, Menaka and Thilothamma would be dancing in front of Indra made him restless. When he reached Surya’s palace, he found his master was still asleep. An idea formed in Aruna’s mind,’ Sugreeva smiled.

  ‘This is hilarious,’ shouted Baali and howled with drunken laughter. Sugreeva waited for his brother to stop his laughter before continuing.

  ‘Aruna decided to dress like a woman. He hurriedly shaved off his beard, and wore a woman’s dress, in the most seductive fashion,’ Sugreeva winked at Tara, and she recoiled. She was getting more and more uncomfortable. The crowd seemed to be deeply involved in the story. Sugreeva stood up and
started walking in an exaggerated effeminate way, ‘Aruna, now looking like the most ravishing of women, started walking towards Indra’s court. The guards let him in, when he said he was the new nymph. Aruna entered and saw the celestial nymphs dancing. He was not impressed. He thought he could dance better. Not being a man who hesitated when a thought struck him, he ran to the centre of the sabha and started dancing. Indra was astounded by the talent of this new nymph. More than the dancing skills, it was the sheer beauty of the new nymph that attracted the king of Gods. Like Aruna, Indra too didn’t believe in dilly-dallying once an idea stuck him. He didn’t wait for the dance to be over. He rushed from his throne and lifted Aruna up. He carried her to his bedroom. And to his chagrin, he found that instead of a nymph, he got a man who had cross-dressed. He cursed Aruna to be pregnant and deliver a child then and there. And before Aruna could blink, a baby was born to him. And that baby is . . .’

  Sugreeva paused and the crowd, though it knew the answer, waited with bated breath. ‘Yata, do you know who that baby is?’ Sugreeva asked. Tara was on the verge of tears.

  ‘That baby is my brother, Baali,’ he said and Baali bowed.

  ‘You’re insulting my husband,’ Tara could not control her anger.

  ‘Tara, my Tara,’ Baali came to her. ‘This is just a game. You’ve not heard how this idiot was born. Now, let me tell the story,’ the courtiers clapped in appreciation. More toddy was passed around.

  ‘This Sugreeva is the son of Surya,’ Baali said and Sugreeva kept his palm on his chest and bowed to everyone. People laughed.

  ‘Listen, listen. I’m going to tell the second part of the fantastic story my brother narrated,’ Baali cried and an anticipatory silence descended. Some people had already started guffawing. They might have heard the story a hundred times, thought Tara.