Sita sat by the pond, reading Nyayasutra, the classic text which introduced a
key school of Indian philosophy, Nyaya Darshan. A few months had passed
since Vishwamitra had visited Rishi Shvetaketu's gurukul.
'Bhoomi,' said Radhika, using the gurukul name of Sita, 'someone from
your home has come to meet you.'
Sita sighed with irritation. 'Can't they wait?'
She was compiling a list of questions she wanted to ask Rishi Shvetaketu.
Now the exercise would be delayed.
¥€¶€¥
Samichi stood patiently, close to the jetty. Waiting for Sita.
A posse of ten men stood behind her. They were under her command.
Samichi was not the girl from the slums anymore. Having joined the police,
she was a rapidly rising star there. It was common knowledge that the royal
family liked her, indebted as they were to her for having saved Princess Sita in
the Mithila slums. People were guarded in her presence. Nobody knew her
exact age, including Samichi herself. Her appearance suggested that she was in
her early twenties now. For a woman of her age, not born into nobility, to be
commanding a posse in the police force was a rare honour. But then, she had
saved the princess.
'Samichi!'
Samichi groaned as she recognised the voice. It was that ridiculous boy,
Kaaml Raj. He was panting by the time he ran up to her. Excited.
'Someone told me you were here. I came as fast as I could.'
Samichi looked at the twelve-year-old. He held a red rose in his hands. She
narrowed her eyes and resisted the temptation to shove him. 'I've told you …'
'I thought you'd like this rose,' said Kaaml shyly. 'I saw you enjoy the
fragrance of the flowers the last time you were here.'Samichi spoke in a cold whisper. 'I'm not interested in odours of any kind.'
Not to be deterred, Kaaml held out a hand, showing her his bleeding finger.
A pathetic attempt to extract sympathy. He had pricked himself repeatedly with
thorns before yanking the flower from the rose bush. Seeing that it wasn't
working, he stepped closer. 'Do you have some medicine for my finger?'
Samichi stepped back to put some distance between them. In doing so, she
stumbled on a stone. Just a little. Kaaml rushed forward to grab her. The poor
boy genuinely wanted to help. What happened next was blinding in its speed.
Samichi screamed in anger, twisted his arm, and viciously kicked him in the
leg. As Kaaml fell forward, she brought her elbow up in a brutal jab. It cracked
his nose. Instantly.
Kaaml clutched his bleeding nose, as Samichi shouted in anger, 'DO NOT
TOUCH ME, EVER!'
Kaaml was crying desperately now. He lay on the ground in a frightened
heap. Bloodied. Trembling. The policemen rushed forward and helped the boy
to his feet. They cast a surreptitious, horror-filled glance at their leader. All of
them had the same thought.
He's only a boy! What is wrong with her?
Samichi's stony face showed no trace of regret. She signalled a Mithila
policeman with a dismissive wave of a hand. 'Get this idiot out of here.'
The policeman lifted the boy gingerly and walked away to find the gurukul
doctor. The other policemen walked back to the jetty in a fearful procession.
The air was thick with unspoken words about their captain.
Something is not right with Samichi.
'Samichi.'
All turned to see Princess Sita emerge from the trees. And, Samichi
transformed like a chameleon. Smiling broadly, she rushed forward with
warmth oozing from her eyes.
'How are you, Samichi?' asked Sita, as she embraced her friend.
Before Samichi could answer, Sita turned to the policemen standing at a
distance and pulled her hands together into a Namaste, along with a warm
smile. The policemen bowed low, also folding their hands into a Namaste.
'I wonder why your men always look so scared,' whispered Sita.
Samichi grinned and shook her head, holding Sita's hand, pulling her away,
out of earshot of the policemen. 'Forget them, Princess,' said Samichi, her
smile affectionate.
'I've told you before, Samichi,' said Sita, 'when we are alone, call me Sita.
Not Princess. You are my friend. Anyway, it's not as if anyone thinks of me as
a princess anymore.''Whatever anyone may think, I have no doubt that you are a princess of
Mithila.'
Sita rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, right.'
'Princess, I have been sent to …'
Sita interrupted Samichi. 'Sita. Not Princess.'
'Apologies, Sita, you must come home.'
Sita sighed. 'You know I can't, Samichi. I have caused enough trouble for
maa.'
'Sita, don't do this to yourself.'
'Everyone knows about the incident with chacha. When I broke his royal
seal,' Sita recalled her uncle Kushadhwaj's last visit to Mithila. 'He is endlessly
troubling maa and Mithila. Everyone blames me for it. And rightly so. I should
just stay away.'
'Sita, your father and mother miss you. Queen Sunaina is very sick. You
really should …'
'Nothing can happen to maa. She is a superwoman. You are just saying this
to make me leave the gurukul and come home.'
'But … it's the truth.'
'The truth is that maa should focus on Urmila and the kingdom. You know
that baba is … distracted. You yourself have told me what the people say about
me. She doesn't need me to increase her problems.'
'Sita …'
'Enough,' said Sita, raising her hand. 'I don't feel like talking about this
anymore.'
'Sita …'
'I feel like practising stick-fighting. Are you game?'
Anything to change the subject, thought Samichi.
'Come on,' said Sita, turning around.
Samichi followed.
¥€¶€¥
Vishwamitra sat in the lotus position in his austere hut at the Ganga ashram of
the Malayaputras.
He was meditating. Trying to keep all thoughts out of his mind. But he was
failing today.
He heard a whistling sound. And recognised it immediately. It was a
common hill myna. A bird that has often been called the most amazing vocalist.
It can whistle, warble, shriek, and even mimic. What is it doing so far away from home? In the plains?
His mind wandered to an incident from the past. When he had heard the
myna in a place he should not have.
Amazing how the mind wanders … So flighty and unpredictable …
The memory of that day, many decades ago, now came flooding back.
It was the day he had received the news of his former friend, Vashishtha,
being appointed the raj guru of Ayodhya.
Vishwamitra felt his chest constrict. In anger. And pain.
That backstabber … I did so much for him …
His mind wandered to the exact moment he had heard the news. At the
ashram of …
Vishwamitra's eyes suddenly flew open.
By the great Lord Parshu Ram …
He remembered where he had seen that face. Sita's face.
He smiled. This only reinforced his decision.
Thank you, Lord Parshu Ram. You made my mind wander only to help me find
my path.
¥€¶€¥
'Guruji …' whispered Arishtanemi.
He stood next to Vishwamitra at the balustrade of the lead ship. They were in
a five-vessel convoy that was sailing down the sacred Ganga, on their way to
supervise a search being conducted by their miners for some special material.
It would help them acquire a powerful weapon called the Asuraastra, leaving
them less dependent on the Vayuputras.
Centuries ago, Lord Rudra, the previous Mahadev, had restricted the use of
daivi astras. The approval of the Vayuputras, the living representatives of Lord
Rudra, was mandatory for using the divine weapons. This was not to
Vishwamitra's liking or comfort.
The great Maharishi had made elaborate plans. Plans which involved,
perhaps, the use of the Asuraastra. He knew the Vayuputras did not like him.
Not since the episode with Trishanku. They tolerated him because they had no
choice. He was, after all, chief of the Malayaputras.
While the search was a slow and tedious process, Vishwamitra was confident
that the material would be found, eventually.
It was time to move to the next phase of his plan. He had to select a Vishnu.
He had just revealed his choice to Arishtanemi, his trusted lieutenant.
'You disagree?' asked Vishwamitra.'She is exceptionally capable, Guruji. No doubt about it. One can sense it,
even at her tender age. But …' Arishtanemi's voice trailed off.
Vishwamitra put his hand on Arishtanemi's shoulder. 'Speak freely. I am
talking to you because I want to hear your views.'
'I spent some time watching her carefully, Guruji. I think she is too
rebellious. I am not sure the Malayaputras will be able to manage her. Or,
control her.'
'We will. She has no one else. Her city has abandoned her. But she has the
potential to be great. She wants to be great. We will be her route to realising it.'
'But can't we also keep searching for other candidates?'
'Your trusted aides gathered information on her in Mithila, right? Most of it
was very encouraging.'
'But there was that case of her probably killing a boy in the Mithila slums
when she was eight.'
'I see in that incident her ability to survive. Your investigators also said the
boy was probably a criminal. She fought her way through, even as a small
child. That's a positive. She has the fighting spirit. Would you rather she had
died like a coward?'
'No, Guruji,' said Arishtanemi. 'But I am wondering if there are possibly
other candidates that we have not yet stumbled upon.'
'You personally know almost every royal family in India. Most of them are
completely useless. Selfish, cowardly, and weak. And their next generation, the
royal children, are even worse. They are nothing but genetic garbage.'
Arishtanemi laughed. 'Few countries have had the misfortune of being
saddled with such a worthless elite.'
'We have had great leaders in the past. And we will have a great leader in the
future too. One who will pull India out of its present morass.'
'Why not from the common folk?'
'We have been searching for a long time. Had that been Lord Parshu Ram's
will, we would have found one by now. And don't forget, Sita is only an
adopted royal. Her parentage is unknown.'
Vishwamitra did not feel the need to tell Arishtanemi what he suspected
about Sita's birth.
Arishtanemi overcame his hesitation. 'I have heard that the Ayodhya princes
…'
The Malayaputra military chief stopped mid-sentence when he saw
Vishwamitra bristle. His famed courage vanished into thin air. Arishtanemi had
indeed heard positive reports about the young princes of Ayodhya, particularly
Ram and Bharat. Ram was a little less than nine years old. But Vashishtha wasthe raj guru of Ayodhya. And, Vashishtha was a subject Arishtanemi had
learned to avoid.
'That snake has taken the Ayodhya princes to his gurukul,' said Vishwamitra,
anger boiling within. 'I don't even know where his ashram is. He has kept it a
secret. If I don't know then nobody knows. We only hear about the four
brothers when they return to Ayodhya on holiday.'
Arishtanemi stood like a statue, barely breathing.
'I know how Vashishtha's mind works. I had made the mistake of
considering him my friend once. He is up to something. Either with Ram or
Bharat.'
'Sometimes, things don't work out as planned, Guruji. Our work in Lanka
inadvertently ended up helping …'
'Raavan has his uses,' interrupted Vishwamitra. 'Don't ever forget that. And,
he is moving in the direction we need him to. It will all work out.'
'But Guruji, can the Vayuputras oppose the Malayaputras? It is our
prerogative to choose the next Vishnu. Not that of the raj guru of Ayodhya.'
'For all their sham neutrality, the Vayuputras will do everything they can to
help that rat. I know it. We do not have much time. We must start preparing
now!'
'Yes, Guruji.'
'And, if she is to be trained for her role, it too must begin now.'
'Yes, Guruji.'
'Sita will be the Vishnu. The Vishnu will rise during my reign. The time has
come. This country needs a leader. We cannot allow our beloved India to suffer
endlessly.'
'Yes, Guruji,' said Arishtanemi. 'Should I tell the Captain to …'
'Yes.'
¥€¶€¥
'Where are you taking me, Radhika?' asked Sita, smiling, as her friend led her
by the hand.
They were walking deep into the forest to the south of the gurukul.
'Hanu bhaiya!' screamed Sita in delight, as they entered a small clearing.
Hanuman stood next to his horse, rubbing the tired animal's neck. The horse
was tied to a tree.
'My sisters!' said Hanuman affectionately.
The gentle giant walked up to them. He enclosed'You have been away for far too long!' Radhika complained.
'I know,' sighed Hanuman. 'I'm sorry. I was abroad …'
'Where do you keep going?' asked Sita, who found Hanuman's mysterious
life very exciting. 'Who sends you on these missions?'
'I will tell you when the time is right, Sita … But not now.'
Hanuman reached into the saddlebag tied to the horse and pulled out a
delicate necklace made of gold, in a style that was obviously foreign.
Radhika squealed with delight.
'You guess correctly,' smiled Hanuman, as he handed it to her. 'This one is
for you …'
Radhika admired the necklace in detail, turning it around several times in
her hands.
'And for you, my serious one,' said Hanuman to Sita. 'I've got what you've
always wanted …'
Sita's eyes widened. 'An ekmukhi Rudraaksh?!'
The word Rudraaksh literally meant the teardrop of Rudra. In reality, it was a
brown elliptical seed. All who were loyal to the Mahadev, Lord Rudra, wore
threaded Rudraaksh beads or kept one in their puja rooms. A common
Rudraaksh seed had many grooves running across it. An ekmukhi Rudraaksh
was rare, and had only one groove on its surface. Very difficult to find.
Expensive too. Priceless for Sita, a staunch Lord Rudra devotee.
Hanuman smiled as he reached into the saddlebag.
Suddenly, the horse became fidgety and nervous, its ears flicking back and
forth. Within moments its breathing was rapid and shallow. Conveying panic.
Hanuman looked around carefully. And he caught sight of the danger.
Very slowly, without any sign of alarm, he pulled Radhika and Sita behind
him.
The girls knew better than to talk. They, too, could sense danger. Something
was seriously wrong.
Hanuman suddenly made a loud, screeching sound; like that of an agitated
monkey. The tiger hidden behind the tree immediately knew that its element of
surprise was gone. It walked out slowly. Hanuman reached for the scabbard
tied to his cummerbund and drew out his curved knife. Made in the style of the
khukuris of the fierce Gorkhas, the blade of the knife was not straight. It
thickened at mid-length, and then the thick section curved downwards. Like a
sloping shoulder. At the hilt-end, the sharp side of the blade had a double-wave
notch. Shaped like a cow's foot. It served a practical purpose. It allowed the
blood from the blade to drip to the ground, instead of spreading to the hilt and
making the knife-hold slippery. The cow's foot indentation also signified thatthe weapon could never be used to kill a holy cow. The handle was made of
ivory. At the halfway mark, a protrusion emerged from all sides of the hilt. It
served as a peg between the middle finger and the ring finger, making the grip
secure. The khukuri had no cross-guard for a thrusting action. A less-skilled
warrior's hand could slip forward onto the blade, in a thrust. It could cause
serious injury to the knife-wielder.
But nobody in their right mind would call Hanuman less than supremely
skilled.
'Stay behind me,' whispered Hanuman to the girls, as the tiger edged
forward slowly.
Hanuman spread his legs apart and bent, maintaining his balance. Waiting.
For what was to follow. Keeping his breathing steady.
With an ear-splitting roar, the tiger suddenly burst forward, going up on its
hind legs, spreading its front legs out. Ready to hold the massive Hanuman in
its grip. Its jaws opened wide, it headed straight for Hanuman's throat.
The tiger's tactic was sound: topple the human with its massive weight, pin
him to the ground with its claws, and rely on its jaws to finish the job.
Against a lesser enemy, it would have prevailed. But, to its misfortune, it had
attacked the mighty Hanuman.
The giant Naga was almost as big as the tiger. With one foot back, he arched
his spine, flexed his powerful muscles; and, remained on his feet. Using his left
hand, he held the tiger by its throat, and kept its fearsome jaws away. Hanuman
allowed the tiger to claw his back. It would not cause much damage. He pulled
his right hand back, flexed his shoulder muscles and brutally thrust the khukuri
deep into the tiger's abdomen. Its outrageously sharp-edged blade sliced in
smoothly. The beast roared in pain. Its eyes wide in shock.
Hanuman sucked in his breath and executed a draw-cut to the right, ripping
deep into the beast's abdominal cavity. All the way from one end to the other.
Vicious, but effective. Not only did most of the beast's abdominal organs get
slashed, the knife even sliced through a bit of the backbone and the nerves
protected inside.
The tiger's slippery intestines slid out of its cleaved abdomen, its hind legs
locked in paralysis. Hanuman pushed the beast back. It fell to the ground,
roaring in agony as its front legs lashed out in all directions.
Hanuman could have avoided further injury from its claws had he waited for
the tiger to weaken. And let its front legs go down. But the animal was in
agony. He wanted to end its suffering. Hanuman bent closer even as the tiger's
claws dug deep into his shoulders. The Naga stabbed straight into the animal's
chest. The blade cut right through, sliding deep into the beast's heart. Itstruggled for a few moments and then its soul escaped its body.
Hanuman pulled the blade out and whispered softly, 'May your soul find
purpose once again, noble beast.'
¥€¶€¥
'These things happen, Radhika,' said Hanuman. 'We're in the middle of a
jungle. What do you expect?'
Radhika was still shaking with fear.
Sita had quickly pulled out the medical aid kit from the saddlebag and
dressed Hanuman's injuries. They were not life-threatening but a few of them
were deep. Sita stitched a couple of gaping wounds. She found some
rejuvenating herbs around the clearing and made an infusion, using stones to
grind the leaves with some water. She gave it to Hanuman to drink.
As Hanuman gulped the medicine down and wiped his mouth with the back
of his hand, he watched Sita.
She is not nervous … She didn't get scared … This girl is special …
'I would not have imagined that a tiger could be brought down with such
ease,' whispered Sita.
'It helps if you're my size!' laughed Hanuman.
'Are you sure that you can ride? Your wounds aren't serious, but …'
'I can't stay here either. I have to get back …'
'Another of your mysterious missions?'
'I have to go.'
'You have to do what you have to do, Hanu bhaiya.'
Hanuman smiled. 'Don't forget your Rudraaksh.'
Sita reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a silk pouch. She opened it
slowly, carefully picking up the ekmukhi Rudraaksh. She stared at it in awe.
Then she held it to her forehead with reverence before slipping it into the
pouch tied to her waist.
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