The student quarters in Shvetaketu's gurukul were frugal. In keeping with the
general atmosphere of the place. Each student occupied a small windowless
mud hut, barely large enough to accommodate a single bed, some clothes pegs
and a place for study materials. The huts had no doors, just doorways.
Sita was lying in bed, recalling the events of the previous day on the
Malayaputra ship.
She held the knife in her hand. She was in no danger of getting cut since the
blade was safely in the scabbard. Again and again, her eyes were drawn to the
knife handle. And the beautiful symbol etched on its surface.
Vishnu?
Me?
Vishwamitra had said that her training would begin soon. She would be old
enough to leave the gurukul in a few months. She would then take a trip to
Agastyakootam, the capital of the Malayaputras, deep in the south of India.
After that, she would travel across India, incognito. Vishwamitra wanted her to
understand the land that she would redeem and lead one day. Along with his
Malayaputras, he would guide her through this. In the interim, she and
Vishwamitra would prepare a blueprint for the task ahead. For a new way of
life.
It was all quite overwhelming.
'My Lady.'
Sita slipped out of bed and came to the doorway. Jatayu was standing at some
distance.
'My Lady,' he repeated.
Sita folded her hands into a Namaste. 'I am like your younger sister, Jatayuji.
Please don't embarrass me. Just call me by my name.'
'No, I can't do that, My Lady. You are the …'
Jatayu fell silent. Strict instructions had been given to the Malayaputras.
Nobody was to speak of Sita as the next Vishnu. It would be announced at theright time. Even Sita had been prohibited from speaking about it with anyone.
Not that she would have, in any case. She felt anxious, almost afraid, of what
the title implied.
'Well then, you can call me your sister.'
Jatayu smiled. 'That is fair, my sister.'
'What did you want to talk about, Jatayuji?'
'How is your hand now?'
Sita grinned as she touched the neem-leaf bandage with her other hand. 'I
was a little too enthusiastic about drawing blood.'
'Yes.'
'I am all right now.'
'That is good to hear,' said Jatayu. He was a shy man. Taking a slow, long
breath in, he softly continued, 'You are one of the very few people, besides the
Malayaputras, who have shown kindness towards me. Even though Lord
Vishwamitra had not ordered you to do so.'
All those months ago, Sita had served Jatayu some food simply because his
face reminded her of the noble vulture who had saved her life. But she kept that
to herself.
'You are probably unsure about this new situation,' said Jatayu. 'It's natural
to feel overwhelmed.'
What he didn't tell her was that even some Malayaputras had their doubts
about the choice of Sita as a Vishnu, but wouldn't dare openly challenge their
formidable chief.
Sita nodded silently.
'It must be even more difficult because you cannot talk to anyone other than
a Malayaputra about this.'
'Yes,' Sita smiled.
'If you ever need any advice, or even someone to talk to, you always have
me. It is my duty to protect you from now onwards. My platoon and I will
always be nearby,' said Jatayu, gesturing behind him.
Around fifteen men stood quietly at a distance.
'I will not embarrass you by revealing myself in public, in Mithila or
anywhere else,' said Jatayu. 'I understand that I am a Naga. But I will never be
more than a few hours' ride away. My people and I will always be your shadow
from now on.'
'You could never embarrass me, Jatayuji,' said Sita.
'Sita!'
The princess of Mithila looked to her left. It was Arishtanemi.
'Sita,' said Arishtanemi, 'Guruji would like to have a word with you.''Excuse me, Jatayuji,' said Sita, as she folded her hands into a polite
Namaste.
Jatayu returned her salutation and Sita walked away, trailing Arishtanemi. As
she faded into the distance, Jatayu bent down, picked up some dust from her
footprint, and touched it respectfully to his forehead. He then turned in the
direction that Sita had walked.
She is such a good soul …
I hope Lady Sita does not become a pawn in the battle between Guru
Vishwamitra and Guru Vashishtha.
¥€¶€¥
Two months had passed. The Malayaputras had left for their capital,
Agastyakootam. As instructed, Sita spent most of her free time reading texts
that the chief of the Malayaputras had given her. They chronicled the lives of
some of the previous Vishnus: Lord Narsimha, Lord Vaaman, Lord Parshu
Ram, among others. He wanted her to learn from their lives, their challenges;
and, how to overcome them and establish a new path that led to the Propagation
of Good.
She took up this task with utmost seriousness and conducted it in privacy.
Today, she sat by a tiny pond not frequented by other students. It was therefore
with irritation that she reacted to the disturbance.
'Bhoomi, you need to come to the main gurukul clearing right away,' said
Radhika, using Sita's gurukul name. 'Someone from your home is here.'
Sita waved her hand in annoyance. 'I'll be there, soon.'
'Sita!' said Radhika loudly.
Sita turned around. Her friend looked and sounded agitated.
'Your mother is here. You need to go. Now.'
¥€¶€¥
Sita walked slowly towards the main gurukul clearing. Her heart beating hard.
She saw two elephants tied close to the walkway, which led to the gurukul jetty.
She knew her mother liked bringing her elephants along. On Sunaina's visits,
Sita and she would go on elephant rides deep into the jungle. Sunaina loved to
educate her daughter on animals in their natural habitat.
Sunaina knew more about animals than anyone Sita had met. The trips into
the jungle were among Sita's most cherished memories. For they involved the
two most important entities in her life: Mother Earth and her own mother.Pain shot through her heart.
Because of her, Kushadhwaj had imposed severe restrictions on Mithila
trade. Her uncle's kingdom, Sankashya, was the main conduit for trade with her
father's kingdom; and the prices of most commodities, even essentials, had
shot through the roof. Most Mithilans blamed Sita for this. Everyone knew that
she had broken Kushadhwaj's royal seal. And, that retaliation was inevitable.
According to ancient tradition, the royal seal was the representation of the
king; breaking it was comparable to regicide.
The blame had also seamlessly passed on to her mother, Sunaina. For
everyone knew that it was Sunaina's decision to adopt Sita.
I have given her nothing but trouble. I have destroyed so much of what she
spent her life building.
Maa should forget me.
Sita was even more convinced of her decision by the time she reached the
clearing.
It was unusually crowded, even for a royal visit. Eight men were gathered
around a heavy, empty palanquin. It was a palanquin she hadn't seen before:
longer and broader. It appeared to be designed so that the person travelling in it
could lie down. To the left, she saw eight women crowding around a low
platform built around an Ashok tree. She looked all over for her mother, but
did not see her anywhere.
She moved towards the women, about to ask where her mother was. Just
then, a few of them moved aside, revealing Queen Sunaina.
It knocked the wind out of Sita.
Her mother was a shadow of her former self. She had been reduced to bare
skin and bones. Her round, moon-shaped face had turned gaunt, with cheeks
sunken in. She had always been short and petite, but had never looked
unhealthy. Now, her muscles had wasted away, and her body was stripped of the
little fat she had once had. Her eyes looked hollow. Her lustrous, rich black
hair had turned sparse and a ghostly white. She could barely hold herself up.
She needed her aides to support her.
As soon as Sunaina saw her precious daughter, her face lit up. It was the
same warm smile where Sita had always found comfort and sanctuary.
'My child,' said Sunaina, in a barely audible voice.
The queen of Mithila held out her hands, her deathly pallor temporarily
reduced by the abundance of a mother's love-filled heart.
Sita stood rooted to her spot. Hoping the earth would swallow her.
'Come here, my child,' said Sunaina. Her arms, too weak to be held up, fell
on her sides.Sunaina coughed. An aide rushed forward and wiped her mouth with a
handkerchief. Specks of red appeared on the white cloth.
Sita stumbled towards her mother. Dazed. She fell to her knees and rested
her head on Sunaina's lap. One that had always been soft, like Mother Earth
immediately after the rains. It was bony and hard now, like the same earth after
a series of devastating droughts.
Sunaina ran her fingers through Sita's hair.
Sita trembled in fear and sorrow, like a little sparrow about to see the fall of
the mighty Banyan tree that had sheltered not just her body but also her soul.
Continuing to run her hand through Sita's hair, Sunaina bent down, kissed
her head and whispered, 'My child …'
Sita burst out crying.
¥€¶€¥
The Mithila physician-in-attendance had vehemently opposed it. Even though
severely weakened, Sunaina was still a formidable creature. She would not be
denied the elephant ride into the jungle with her daughter.
The physician had played his final card. He had whispered into the queen's
ear, 'This may well be your last elephant ride, Your Highness.'
And Sunaina had replied, 'That is precisely why I must go.'
The queen had rested in the palanquin while the two elephants were prepared
for the ride. One would carry the physician and a few attendants, while the
other would carry Sunaina and Sita.
When it was time, Sunaina was carried to the howdah of the seated elephant.
A maid tried to clamber aboard, next to the queen.
'No!' a firm Sunaina decreed.
'But, My Lady …' pleaded the maid, holding up a handkerchief and a small
bottle. The fumes from the dissolved herbal medicine helped boost her energy
for short periods of time.
'My daughter is with me,' said Sunaina. 'I don't need anyone else.'
Sita immediately took the handkerchief and bottle from the maid and
climbed aboard the howdah.
Sunaina signalled the mahout, who tenderly stroked the elephant behind its
ears with his foot. The elephant rose very slowly, causing the least amount of
discomfort to Sunaina.
'Let's go,' she ordered.
The two elephants ambled off into the jungle, accompanied by fifty armed
Mithila policemen, on foot.
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