Abhaya, page 15
It was only when he shifted in the feather bed that he felt someone beside him. Shyeni! He sat up in shock as the memory of the previous evening came to him in a flash. It was the seventh night he had spent with the Garudas on his quest for the Shakta group. The hospitality of the Garuda king, Vainateya, had left nothing to be desired.
That afternoon, the Garuda king had sent for him having heard from another young Garuda about a group of ascetics who had camped two yojanas away from the shore to the south-east of Gomantaka. He had sought to leave immediately but Shyeni, the sister of Lord Vainateya, had insisted him to stay the night. One look in her eyes and Vikrama could not refuse. He promised himself he would return to Gomantaka as soon as the Pingala issue was sorted out. He had not eaten much during the meal but he knew he had gone overboard drinking the wine as she filled pitcher after pitcher. When he could take no more, she had helped him to his hut. Vikrama could not remember anything beyond that and the sight of Shyeni lying in his bed, her clothes barely covering her frame, came as a shock.
By Mahakala! What came over me!
He sat up, pulling the rug over Shyeni. She sensed his movement and opened her eyes, the effect of wine still evident.
“Manikandhara!” Her lips curved into a lazy smile. She reached out to pull him back under the covers.
“Shyeni!” Vikrama leaned over her, brushing the hair out of her face. He didn’t know what to say.
“You will leave by dawn, won’t you?” Shyeni asked, still languorous with sleep and lovemaking.
Vikrama felt his throat go dry. I cannot leave Shyeni; not after crossing the line. “I don’t want to ever leave your side Shyeni. But I am on a mission.”
“Fine, leave if you have to.” Shyeni yawned and turned to her side. A baffled Vikrama shook her awake.
“Do you even remember what we did, Eagle Princess?”
Shyeni sat up, sensing his discomfort, and smiled, putting her arms around him. Vikrama’s hands went around her, his heart at a loss to understand how he could protect her from the consequences of the night. “I want to ask you to stay for another night. But that would hold you back from finding your mother and investigate whatever threatens your family. So, I shall not. I shall remember you, Mani, forever.”
“Come with me!” Vikrama said suddenly. “I shall go right now to Lord Vainateya to seek your hand. We shall leave together.”
“Wait!” Shyeni said, pulling him back. “Why would I leave my home and come with you?”
It took some moments before Vikrama fully comprehended what she was saying. He swallowed hard, hoping that it was the wine that was making her speak in this manner. He gently replied, “My home is yours too, love. My father and sister will welcome you.”
Shyeni smiled again, running her fingers through his hair. “I would love to visit you, Manikandhara. Just that your city seems so far from my home...” She stopped as she saw his shoulders droop and his hands fall to his side. “Manikandhara...”
“Vikramasena. That is the name with which people at my home call me.”
“Well, that is new! What do you want me to call you?”
His eyes narrowed, his gaze no longer tender. “It does not look like it makes much difference.”
“Come on Mani, or Vikrama, or whatever your name is. I love you. Nothing would delight me more if you could stay here with us forever. But did you expect me to be one of those women who leave their homes to live with one man for the rest of their lives?” He turned away from her and got out of bed, adjusting his garments.
“Don’t you ignore me this way!” she screamed, jumping out of the bed in a resolve that startled him.
“Listen, Manikandhara … Vikramasena, my home is to me as yours is to you. The social norms of your world don’t bind me. You came here seeking your mother and want to return to your family. I want to stay here, ensuring the well-being of my family. Do you still want to make it look like I am cheating you? No! I do love you ... but I won’t leave all that is dear to me behind to prove that. And if you truly loved me, you would not ask it of me!”
Vikrama shook his head. But, looking into Shyeni’s indignant eyes, he found nothing but sincerity.
His eyes softened. “I shall never ask you to do anything that pains you, Shyeni. But will you be fine after I leave?”
Shyeni shrugged. “What makes you think that I shall not be fine, Vikrama, if I can call you that?”
The question made him smile. He knelt before her and held her hand. “Can I ask you something, Shyeni? Don’t refuse me this, I beg of you.”
“Arise, Vikrama! I understand this is hard for you. I shall not refuse you anything that is within my power.”
“If you discover that you are pregnant with my child, will you let me know? You know where to seek me out.” Shyeni nodded. She knew she had the right and the power to decide about any child that she might bear. But if the divine eagle Suparna willed, destiny would fall in line and Vikrama would return to Gomantaka. Vikrama’s relief showed on his face. He got to his feet and collected his sword and upper garment.
Shyeni approached him and held his arm. “I shall walk with you till the foot of the mountain, Vikrama.” Vikrama agreed, hoping against hope that she might still change her mind. But when they reached the bottom of the mountain, she turned to head back. She turned around again to give him one last smile and wave and he felt a lightness in his heart, knowing he couldn’t expect more.
Duty and destiny. Strange are their ways indeed! If Shyeni’s duty towards her home and family came first, I have to respect her choice. But if we love each other, may Mahakala unite us when one needs the other.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kamarupa
It was past sunset and Kamarupa’s gates had long been shut for the day. Mura walked across the terrace of the fortress wall. Most of the guards had retired to their rooms except for those scheduled to keep the night vigil.
Where did that imbecile disappear to now! he exclaimed to himself. He was waiting for the arrival of the head of one of the guard divisions who had left for Pragjyotisha a couple of days ago. Mura had expected him to return long before sunset and he wondered what had kept him this long. With each passing minute, Mura’s heartbeat quickened.
Several events had occurred in the past months that had robbed Mura of his peace. A maiden from the Pundra kingdom who had rejected to accept Shakta religion had left Kamarupa and her corpse was found by two strange Shakta practitioners who had mysteriously left Kamarupa the same night. Despite Mura’s best efforts to brush away his worries, the memories of the Shakta conclave that took place years ago haunted him. He had brushed aside the death of the Shakta guru, Vamanatha, as a natural one and disbelieved the yogini who claimed that Bhauma had killed him.
Kadambari. Her name echoed in Mura’s ears in the wake of these events. The only satisfaction he could derive from the incident was that he had trusted his instincts and let the woman escape before her claims were heard by anyone else. Back then, he had suffered from pangs of guilt at allowing someone who dared to blame his lord of a heinous crime to leave. But, as Mura pieced together the mysterious facts around the girl’s death, he felt increasingly uncomfortable about Bhauma’s intentions. Before he took any step further, Mura wanted to secure the safety of his daughter and Dhatri.
Sowing doubt about Bhauma in Dhatri’s mind, Mura knew, was an impossible task. It was all the more impossible as Mura only had theories and no proof. Bhauma’s objection to sending Mura’s daughter to her mother’s family only strengthened Mura’s doubts. As a consequence of his disturbing thoughts, he had sent messages to the family at Pragjyotisha to come to Kamarupa and take the girl away to safety. But he had received no response. Further dismayed, Mura had bid the head of the guards to carry his message personally.
A bang at the gates caught Mura’s attention. His messenger had returned!
“What did they say?” Mura asked as soon as the guard was ushered inside.
“Forgive me, Senapati. I found the house of your relatives locked. The neighbours told me that they had left for a long pilgrimage and shall not be back for at least a year.”
Mura’s heart sank at the news. His disappointment was visible.
“What disappoints you, Senapati? I thought your message was a casual one.”
Mura shook his head, calming his thoughts. “It is just that I find my daughter disturbs Mahadevi too much. She is becoming impossible to manage.”
“The fact that you waited for me this long in the night for such a trivial issue intrigues me,” the guard remarked.
Mura managed a laugh. “I am just developing sleeplessness.” He then turned solemn. “They could have informed me about their pilgrimage. I was just concerned when I did not hear from them for so long.” He waved, dismissing the guard, whose remarks made him feel even more uncomfortable. He spent another hour walking the fortress wall, offering explanations to his troubled self.
Maybe it is just me. They say that doubt, once it is sown in one’s mind, becomes an overgrown banyan tree, leaving no opportunity for other thoughts to survive.
In a bid to calm himself, he decided to patrol the outer ring of Kamarupa one last time before turning in for the night. Everything seemed to be in order. He walked towards a quiet corner of the outer fort wall which overlooked the expanse below and stood there for long, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. The cool breeze helped, to some extent, to calm his mind. He told himself to let the issue rest, to not pursue a path that would lead him to the sin of blaming a devout lord like Bhauma. Just as he was about to retire to the warmth of his home, Mura heard a groan from the very stairs of his house.
Rushing there, he found a woman in a pool of blood. Mura frantically called out to the guards on vigil. Coming closer, he was shocked to find her gagged and stabbed in several places, her clothes torn at places suggesting even worse things had happened to her. He undid the gag and lifted the woman to a sitting position. She groaned, partly recovering from her swoon.
“Who did this?!”
“Bhau…”
“What?” Mura saw the guards approaching and shouted at them to hurry. “Who did this to you?”
“Bhauma. He is the one … Save me, Senapati!” The woman fell limp in his arms.
Several things happened then. The guards gathered around him. Mura lay her on the porch of his house. Before he could order anyone to get medical help, Mura saw Bhauma rush in from the gate.
“What, by the Supreme Goddess!” Bhauma exclaimed. “Senapati!”
Mura glared at him, too shocked and too angry to speak. A guard checked the woman’s pulse.
“She is dead.”
“What!”
“She is dead, Prabho.”
“No!” Mura cried, feeling for her pulse himself.
“Will someone tell me what happened?” Bhauma growled.
“Prabho!” A guard said, trembling. “The woman left her room sometime after sunset saying that the senapati had sent for her. I saw her exit the middle fortress. Then, then…”
“I never sent for anyone!” Mura spat.
“Then what?” Bhauma shouted, glaring at the guards. “Speak out, imbeciles! What were you doing when she was being…? Speak out!” He slapped the nearest guard hard.
“I only came here hearing the shouts of Senapati Mura!” the guard cried. “We all were on our night vigil near the gates, Prabho! We came hearing his calls. We only saw her screaming ‘senapati’ before she died.”
“Were you all lying drunk at the gates in the name of the night vigil? You good-for-nothing brutes! Mura, you tell me the truth!”
Mura had a good mind to fly at Bhauma but he could do nothing at the moment. Bhauma’s cold hand held his arm.
“Senapati, tell me you did not do this!”
Mura thought he saw a momentary smile on Bhauma’s lips. He was about to raise his hands when he saw Dhatri behind Bhauma. Mura closed his eyes, unable to see her shock, and sank to his knees.
Conversations went on above him. The guards reported to her what they had told Bhauma.
“I was around the southern end of the outer fort wall till now, Mahadevi!” Mura exclaimed, struggling with the sudden turn of events. “Surely someone of you must have seen me there!” He glared at the guards and they looked at each other and then back at Bhauma fearfully shaking their heads.
“I was … by the southern corner, Lord.” A guard stuttered. “But you passed us quite a while back, Senapati!”
“No! How dare you! No, Mahadevi! I was by myself for a long while! There must…” Mura saw Bhauma smirk to himself again. A chill went down his spine. If Bhauma had planned to frame him for the crime, he could have managed the guards too! Mura turned to Dhatri, steeling his heart to expose Bhauma. But words failed him at the sight of the shocked reproach in her eyes. He saw Bhauma hold her by the arm and instruct the guards. His limbs felt like they were not his own when the guards hauled him inside his own home and blocked the exit.
“You are lucky, Mura. After that heinous crime, you get to live and continue being the senapati.”
“Bhauma!” Mura finally found the strength to reach out and grab hold of Bhauma’s neck in a bid to strangle him.
“Now, now, my dear Mura, you don’t want to kill the only friend you have in this fortress.”
“I will give you the most painful of deaths, you demon!”
“What a clumsy way of showing gratitude to the one who can protect your daughter!”
Mura’s hands fell back.
“And she will be safe, I promise you,” Bhauma whispered with a wink.
In the light of the flickering lamp, Mura saw the monster that Bhauma was.
“You have quite a list of things to do to atone for that heinous, brutal and inhuman act of yours, Senapati. But quite a small price to pay for the safety of your precious child, isn’t it? I would hate to lose a warrior like you and that is what saved you! I spent the whole night convincing the mahadevi that a crime of passion does not warrant death but an atonement and that letting you live and binding you to the services of Kamarupa was a well-deserved punishment, better than death.”
Mura stared at him, desperately trying to calm the rage that boiled within. He would have preferred to die rather than serve Bhauma anymore. What kind of a coward is Bhauma, who lacks the resolve to kill me? No, he just wants to use me till he can find someone else to replace me. Of all things, did my valour have to prove my weakness now? Had I not been a warrior, nobody would have asked me to defend Kamarupa while heinous crimes are committed right in the presence of the Goddess Herself! My daughter would have been safer … His hands ached to kill Bhauma and end the matter for good. But if he killed Bhauma then and there, Mura would have to bear Dhatri’s hatred forever. He couldn’t bear the thought of that.
“Have you ever thought what she will do the day she discovers the fiend that you are, Bhauma?” Mura’s broken voice sounded like that of an apparition.
Bhauma’s laughter told Mura everything. He sadly realised what Bhauma was capable of doing to Dhatri the moment she found out the truth. He realised the daunting task he had before him; he had to ensure Dhatri’s safety and, for that, he needed to stay alive.
No, he would not leave Kamarupa, not until he could prove his innocence to Dhatri and save his daughter.
When the gates of the inner fortress closed on Mura the next day, he steeled his heart further.
Wake up from your slumber, Supreme Goddess Kamaksha! See for yourself who pollutes the air he breathes, taking your very name. See how innocent women are killed, or worse, violated. Wake up to punish the demon who has turned this temple into a hell! Wake up to end this naraka, this hell on earth! Wake up!
Chapter Twenty-Five
Indraprastha
She awoke at the deep sound of a conch being blown in the distance. The rhythmic sound of drumbeats took up the conch’s call, followed by a voice raised in song:
The jingle of anklets of the fair Uma
The arrow from the bow of Kama
Stirred the king of dance, the Shiva
Could he remain a recluse, the Bhava?
The song had become familiar by now. It was heard from the nartanashala every morning, punctuated by the sound of musical instruments and the accompanying tinkle of anklets. The sessions of music and dance started with the first rays of the sun falling on the placid waters of the Yamuna. The lines evoked smiles from those in the neighbourhood, despite the interruption to their sleep; the legendary story of Girija Kalyanam was dear to artists and commoners alike.
Abhaya, though, did not smile. She lay staring at the ceiling. Nothing seemed capable of penetrating the gloom that had enveloped her. She had reached Indraprastha the previous evening. Some of the citizens of Anagha had gone to live with their relatives in the neighbouring cities of Saurashtra but most had accompanied her to Indraprastha, where Subhadra had received them with open arms. For Abhaya, she had reserved quarters at her residence.
What struck Abhaya the most about Indraprastha was the whole different scale of things here. Subhadra’s mansion was almost as huge as the royal palace at Anagha. Given the large family of the five Pandava brothers and their multiple wives, the royal residences of Indraprastha in themselves could have easily housed the entire population of Anagha. The wide streets, the jostling masses, the hustle and noise had made Abhaya feel lost the moment they entered the city. As she had passed through the streets that housed the nobles and counsellors, Abhaya couldn’t help but notice the lavishness of their homes. Prosperity was at its peak in Indraprastha. But despite the air of luxury and abundance, Abhaya had felt intimidated and unwanted. Gathering herself, she had blamed her mood on her bereavement and tried to clear all traces of envy from her mind. Her heart broke, though, to see her people stopping to admire each home on the street with longing.
Abhaya lifted herself from the bed and went to the mirror. The turn of events and the fatigue of the long journey had taken their toll on her. Her hair had lost its lustre, her skin was dull, there were dark circles around her eyes but, most of all, it was her restrained demeanour that rendered her practically unrecognisable from her usual ebullient self.
