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  ‘You may be the giant bird slayer, but don’t mess with Tara,’ the girl laughed, patted Baali’s cheeks and ran out.

  Baali flung the empty pot to the farthest corner of the room in great anger. He roared, ‘How dare you?’

  ‘The cost of the broken pot will be charged from your foster-father, Riksarajas,’ Tara cried from outside.

  ‘He isn’t my foster-father,’ Baali screamed.

  Tara peeped in through the window, ‘Ok, foster mother, if you choose. He is both, you know.’ Before Baali could answer, she had gone, leaving only her laughter reverberating behind. Baali cursed and shouted while Sugreeva sat caressing his cheek. Tara’s hair had brushed against his right cheek when she ran out. Her hair smelled of champaka flowers. Sugreeva sighed as Baali continued to curse under his breath.

  Chapter 9

  Having been confined to his bed and room, Baali was always in a morose mood. Sugreeva was his shadow, catering to his brother’s whims and managing his temper tantrums. Despite Baali’s displeasure, Tara diligently visited him and ensured that he took his medicines on time. Sugreeva used to look forward to her visits. He would sit dreaming about her, recalling her every gesture, trying to find meaning in pauses of her conversation, her taunting, and the way she played with her hair or her eyes. He could not discuss her with Baali, since his quick-tempered brother might get upset. However, Sugreeva observed that in her presence, Baali was silent and obeyed her instructions without much effort on her part. She brought the sunshine and laughter with her into the room whenever she came. Sugreeva would relish the fragrance of champaka flowers that lingered on for hours after she had gone.

  Riksarajas kept visiting them often. Sugreeva learned that a lot had happened in the eunuch’s life. The Vanara tribe had expelled him. They had set the bird Sambati free. It was rumoured that Jatayu had carried the wingless Sambati to some forest deep in the south. The absence of the two birds that had preyed on the Vana Naras should have made the eunuch a hero. Instead, he was blamed for the divine birds abandoning the tribe. The tribal leaders, Jambavan and his deputy, Kesari, had declared that the two boys had brought bad luck to the tribe and the eunuch had brought shame. The divine birds had been disrespected. One of the birds had almost been killed. The eunuch had tied up the holy bird, the brother of the divine eagle, Garuda. Gods would be angry with the Vana Naras, they decreed. They also held Riksarajas responsible for the death of the old man who was killed by Jatayu.

  The council of tribal elders had met and had decided to expel Riksarajas from the Vana Nara tribe. They also decided not to accept Baali and Sugreeva into the tribe. They had even wanted the boys to be expelled from the Vaidya’s home. But Sushena had said that as a physician, his doors were open to all. The elders had left unhappy. Riksarajas was invited by the Vaidya to stay in his humble hut, but the proud eunuch had declined. He was a loner, living by hunting and collecting forest produce, and would often come to visit them with curious presents from deep inside the forest. There would be other members of Vana Nara tribe or from other tribes like Yakshas who were tree dwellers who depended on Sushena’s skills in treating ailments. Initially, all had been reluctant to talk to an expelled man, but he soon won them over with his amiable nature.

  Riksarajas would come and sit with the boys, sharing his dream of making the Vana Nara tribe as civilized as that of Devas or Asuras. He didn’t want to leave his beloved forest, but he wanted his people not to be slaves to anyone, not to live in ignorance and poverty. He wanted to stop the raids of Deva kings and Asura kings which took Vana Nara as Dasas, a polite term for slaves. ‘We’re caught between two aggressive people. We neither have the self-respect of Nagas who would fight to the last man than be slaves, nor the skills of Gandharvas who are respected for their musical skills and are employed in the palace as entertainers.’

  Sitting on the narrow veranda and sipping gooseberry wine, Riksarajas would say to whoever he could find as a listener, ‘We’re just slave material. We’re ignorant, superstitious, forest dwellers. They want our land, our forests to build their cities. They want our children to be their slaves for perpetuity. And they treat us as untouchables. They call us Vanaras, monkeys. They treat us worse than they treat their cows. For Devas, cow was holy, for Asuras cow was food, and in each and everything Devas and Asuras differed, except in one matter. For both the warring races, we’re just monkey men. Crude, black-skinned, forest dwellers. And we stand before their ruffian, barbarian kings and sly priests with our arms crossed in reverence, our spine bent, a palm over our mouth. They make us carry brooms on our back when we visit their towns because the monkeys’ footprints are polluting. They make us carry a pot on our neck, so that our saliva doesn’t fall on the path their holy feet treads. And we call them Swamis, Ayyas. Asuras talk about equality, but do they practise it? Ha! Go and see any Asura town. Are they any better than those of Devas? They too treat us the same way. We’re monkeys for everyone. Vanaras.’

  Riksarajas would add colourful expletives after this rant, each of them addressed to some king or another. He didn’t discriminate between Deva kings or Asura kings, or the priests on either side. He reserved a special place for the Asura emperor of Lanka and would say that that man had fooled his people. He had promised the rule of Mahabali, but now he was busy playing the Brahmin gentlemen. He plays veena, he claims he is a pundit in Vedas of Devas. And he came to power claiming he is the saviour of Asuras.

  Vaidya Sushena didn’t bother to reply to such rants of Riksarajas, but it left a great impact on Baali and Sugreeva. Sugreeva felt Riksarajas said whatever Baali used to say, but with more clarity and force. Baali’s eyes would glitter with anger whenever Riksarajas explained how Vana Naras have been treated over centuries. ‘We’re monkeys, good for nothing,’ he would often end his ranting and Baali would argue with him vociferously. Except for Baali and Sugreeva, no one paid any heed to the outbursts of the drunken eunuch. Riksarajas would continue to drink the gooseberry wine and the tirade would continue till midnight. Tara would giggle and provoke him by saying something good about Asuras or Devas. It was a source of entertainment for her. It provoked Baali to no end. He would pick a fight with her. Sugreeva was amazed that whatever the provocation, Tara would never lose her cool. She was not intimidated by Baali’s temper. She would often leave Baali speechless with her arguments. Sugreeva’s admiration of Tara kept growing as the days passed.

  By the time Baali recovered and was able to walk, it was time for the rains. The jungle had blossomed in myriad colours and the brooks were gushing with joy, like never before. That day the creepers had acquired an abundance of flowers and buds. It was one of those rare days when the sun shone for a few hours, giving a well-deserved break to the monsoon. After many weeks of sullen silence, Baali decided he had had enough of Tara’s proscriptions. He was sick of being told what to do, what to eat, when to sleep and when to wake up.

  Tara was gathering herbs for her father Sushena. Sugreeva was struggling to have a conversation with her. He often found himself tongue-tied in her presence and this day was no different. She chatted incessantly like the monsoon rain, and he was happy to be soaked in its sweetness. Sushena was squatting on the rock that bulged over the falls where River Pampa plunged down before rushing off to the distant sea. A couple of old Vanara women sat on their haunches, waiting patiently for the Vaidya to prepare a balm for knee pain. Baali burst out of the hut and jumped into the courtyard.

  ‘Sugreeva, let us wrestle,’ Baali shouted. Riksaraja, who was sleeping in the mud veranda, from the previous night’s hangover sat upright. He blinked a few times, not comprehending what was happening. Tara giggled. Sushena looked back, smiled and went back to tending to his patients. Baali scowled at everyone.

  ‘Sugreeva!’ Baali screamed.

  Tara yelled from the far end of the herb garden, ‘Go to sleep.’

  Riksarajas joined, ‘Come, sleep here near me. You get good breeze here, come, come and sleep.’

  Even from the dista
nce, Sugreeva could see Baali was angry. ‘Sugreeva!’ Baali yelled again. Sugreeva ran towards Baali. Tara shouted at him to stop, but when she found he paid no heed to her, she followed him.

  ‘Hey, why’re you yelling at him? You’re sick. You should rest. Come and sleep here,’ Riksaraja said from the veranda.

  ‘Yes, Brother,’ Sugreeva reached Baali before he could say something rude to Riksaraja. The eunuch saw Sugreeva and said, ‘Ask your brother to rest. Bring him here. Come boy, sleep here near your father. Good breeze here.’

  Baali exploded with anger, ‘Stop babysitting me. You’re not my father. I’m not sick. I want to wrestle. I want to flex my muscles.’

  ‘Wrestle?’ Riksaraja stood up in surprise.

  ‘Muscles?’ Tara asked in mock surprise. Baali muttered some expletives under his breath. Tara closed her ears with both her hands and laughed. Tara’s laughter got under Baali’s nerves. Sugreeva tried to pacify him, but Baali pushed away his hands.

  ‘Fight me, you fool. You coward. Wrestle me,’ Baali bellowed.

  ‘You’re not well, Brother,’ Sugreeva said softly. Without warning, Baali punched Sugreeva in his stomach. Sugreeva doubled up and fell back on the floor, holding his belly and cringing with pain. Baali danced around on his toes, shouting, ‘Get up, you coward. Fight with me.’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ Tara said, running to pick up Sugreeva.

  ‘Stay away, girl,’ Baali jumped in her way and blocked her. Sugreeva gestured her to move away. Riksarajas also had come near them to pick up Sugreeva.

  ‘It’s between us brothers, all of you stay away,’ Baali roared. Vaidya and his patients hurried towards the courtyard. Sugreeva had managed to stand up. He gestured Riksarajas and Tara to move away. Riksarajas went back to the veranda and poured another helping of gooseberry wine.

  ‘Fight and die, you fools. You want some swords to swing, boys? Cut off each others’ heads for fun? How about some stones to throw at each other? Bows? Arrows? Spear? Mace?’ Riksarajas took another swig of wine and spat it out. He wiped his lips with the back of his palm and sneered, ‘No wonder everyone calls us monkeys. Vanaras.’

  Sugreeva saw that Tara had moved to stand near her father. The Vaidya said to her, ‘Make the paste for treating bruise. You know how to mix the herbs, right?’

  Tara glared at her father. ‘I thought you would stop them.’ Her father smiled at her. Sugreeva too wished someone would intervene and stop his brother. They were circling in the mud courtyard like two fighter cocks. The patients of the Vaidya had taken comfortable positions in the veranda to watch the wrestling match between the brothers.

  Baali attacked Sugreeva unexpectedly. Before Sugreeva could comprehend what was happening, Baali’s arms were wrapped around his waist. Sugreeva was thrown on his back and a jolt of pain shot through his spine. He was blinded for a moment. Baali released his grip and bounced back. Sugreeva could hear his brother’s laughter. Everything was black for a moment. Sugreeva got up, wobbling from the impact. His back had gone stiff. Baali danced around him. The strength in his brother’s arm was incredible, even when he was resuscitating from such a serious injury. Next time, when Baali attacked, Sugreeva was prepared. He sidestepped him and put his leg across as Baali charged, tripping his brother. Baali lost his balance but before he could steady himself, Sugreeva grabbed him and flipped him over his head. Baali fell on his face. Sugreeva jumped on his chest while Baali was still turning to face Sugreeva and locked him in a pincer-like movement. Sugreeva knew he would have been no match had Baali been in good health. This might be the only occasion where he could beat him. He felt bad that he was taking advantage of the situation. But one look at Tara’s face settled this dilemma quite decisively for him. He could not afford to lose face before the girl. He held a struggling Baali to the ground. But it was difficult to hold his brother down for long. He saw that there was a pebble embedded in the beaten mud courtyard, a hand width away from Baali’s head. If he thought too much, he knew he wouldn’t do what he was planning. He hoped no one was looking. He loosened one of his arms from the pincer lock and Baali tried to wriggle out. He slammed Baali’s head on the embedded pebble. For a moment, his brother stared at him. Sugreeva watched his brother’s eyes glaze over and roll back. Sugreeva stood up and dusted off his hands. He felt proud that he had beaten his brother for the first time. But as he watched his brother lying still, an unknown fear gripped his heart.

  ‘Brother, Brother,’ he cried, leaning down and shaking Baali’s shoulders. ‘Someone please help. He isn’t moving,’ Sugreeva cried. Vaidya Sushena and Riksarajas came running and others followed. Vaidya checked Baali’s pulse and asked for water. Tara ran to fetch it. Sugreeva stood with his head hanging in guilt.

  ‘Nothing, son. Nothing will happen to your brother. He was weak and was yet to recover from his injury. Don’t cry,’ Sushena pacified Sugreeva but his words only helped break the dam of Sugreeva’s grief. He started sobbing unconsolably. Tara hurried with herbs and water and the Vaidya applied them with a calm urgency. After a few minutes, Baali opened his eyes.

  ‘Sugreeva . . .’ Baali mumbled and his brother fell upon his chest. Sugreeva hugged him tight and cried, ‘I’m sorry, Brother,’

  In a weak voice, Baali said, ‘There, there. Such things happen in wrestling. Why should you cry? You won for the first time. You should be happy.’

  Sugreeva smiled through his tears, ‘You were weak and I . . . I . . .’

  ‘Warriors do not cry. Neither in victory nor in loss.’ Baali patted Sugreeva’s cheeks. He held Sugreeva’s hand and got up. ‘Take me to the bed. I feel tired,’ Baali said, leaning on his brother’s shoulders. Ignoring Riksarajas’ scolding for wrestling and his lamenting Baali’s health, Sugreeva walked Baali to the hut. He gently helped Baali onto the cot and covered him with a blanket. He sat at his brother’s feet and watched Baali slipping into a tired sleep. Sugreeva sat for a long time, trying to dissolve his guilt and justifying his act in his mind. He felt someone was in the room beside him and his brother. When he turned, he saw Tara was standing behind him, staring at them. Their gaze locked. He tried to smile.

  Tara said, ‘I saw what you did.’ Before Sugreeva could answer, she walked away, slamming the door shut. Sugreeva sat down, devastated that Tara had seen it. He thought of running behind her and pleading his innocence. He searched for some explanation that would convince her.

  ‘You could’ve beaten me otherwise too, brother,’ Sugreeva heard Baali whisper.

  That broke Sugreeva. He hugged his brother and wept, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ It was disconcerting to know that his brother knew. Sugreeva felt a wave of hatred coming up like undigested food. He should not have done it. A mistake, but something which couldn’t be corrected now. There was no point dwelling over it.

  Baali’s weak hands ran through his curly hair, ‘Promise me that you will always play fair, to your friends, to your enemies, to everyone.’

  Sugreeva continued to sob on Baali’s chest. To pacify his brother, Baali started telling old tales of honour and valour of the Vana Nara tribe. The tales of the forgotten heroes and the useless battles that they had lost. The tales of naïve people who had been overrun by the civilized. The tales were as old as the mountains and as deep as the forests. Rains, which had taken a break since morning, started falling with a vengeance. The thatched roof protested as rain pounded on it. The smell of herbs and medicine, disease and death hung heavily inside. Baali continued to drone out the stories, not aware that his brother was not listening. Sugreeva was thinking about how he would convince Tara that he was not evil.

  Chapter 10

  They didn’t have time for goodbyes, thought Sugreeva ruefully. It was getting darker and the forest was alive with the chatter of birds coming to roost. They had been walking for many hours, following the course of the river. A cool evening breeze, carrying the fragrance of Saptaparni flowers, dried the beads of sweat from his back. His legs were aching. His brother hadn’t spoken a word since th
ey had left the hut of Sushena. What was the hurry to leave so soon? It was true that his brother had recovered, yet they could’ve hung around for some more days. He had never gotten a chance to express his feelings to Tara. He had seen her rushing from the river bank when they were saying their goodbyes to Sushena. Sugreeva wanted to talk to her, but she was only looking at Baali. A blob of distaste came up his throat. What wrong had he done for her to avoid him like this? He saw Riksaraja pat Tara’s cheeks, but he was sure he hadn’t told her anything. She kept looking at Baali, who walked as if he was relieved to be going away, as if Tara didn’t exist. Sugreeva walked past her, without speaking a word, trying not to look at her. He was angry. He didn’t deserve this. They had spent many delightful evenings together. Was it not he who had shown her the nest of the weaver bird? Was it not he who had climbed the topmost branch of the jamun tree to collect ripe fruits for her? Was it not they who sat on the veranda and exchanged many a tales of the ghosts and yakhshis? Yet she had stopped speaking to him for no reason. Since the last four months, they had barely exchanged a few words. Sugreeva felt a numbing weight in his chest.

  ‘How long do we have to walk?’ Sugreeva asked aloud.

  ‘As long as it takes,’ came the reply of Riksarajas from behind. He had forgotten about the eunuch so far. He wished his brother would say something. Was he thinking about Tara? Sugreeva felt a pang of jealousy. Darkness crept from the shadows and embraced the forest. Memories of the fight with the giant bird made him restless. Didn’t his brother even think about such things? He doesn’t have the imagination, he is a fool, Sugreeva thought. He looked around fearfully. He felt as if the giant trees that towered over him had eyes—a thousand of them—and they were watching them, judging them. He hurried to Baali and held his wrist.