Scion Of Ikshvaku Part 24

It's a long story,' said Sita, but I want you to practice with it. This is the bow which will be used for the swayamvar compet.i.tion tomorrow.'

Ram took an involuntary step back. There were many ways in which a swayamvar was conducted, two of them being: either the bride could directly select her groom; or she could mandate a compet.i.tion. The winner would marry the bride. But this was unorthodox, to say the least: for a groom to be given advance notice and help. In fact, it was against the rules.

Ram shook his head. It would be an honour to even touch the Pinaka, much less hold the bow that Lord Rudra himself graced with his touch. But I will only do so tomorrow. Not today.'

Sita frowned. I thought you intended to win my hand.'

I do. But I will win it the right way. I will win according to the rules.'

Sita smiled, shaking her head as she experienced a peculiar sense of fear mixed with elation.

Do you disagree?' asked Ram, seeming a bit disappointed.

No, I don't. I'm just impressed. You are a special man, Prince Ram.'

Ram blushed. His heart, despite his mental admonishments, picked up pace once again.

I look forward to seeing you fire an arrow tomorrow morning,' said Sita.

Chapter 23.

The swayamvar was held in the Hall of Dharma instead of the royal court. This was simply because the royal court was not the biggest hall in Mithila. The main building in the palace complex, which housed the Hall of Dharma, had been donated by King Janak to the Mithila University. The hall hosted regular debates and discussions on various esoteric topics: the nature of dharma, karma's interaction with dharma, the nature of the divine, the purpose of the human journey... King Janak was a philosopher-king who focused all his kingdom's resources on matters that were spiritual and intellectual.

The Hall of Dharma was in a circular building, built of stone and mortar, with a ma.s.sive dome; quite rare in India. The delicate elegance of the dome was believed to represent the feminine, while the typical temple spire represented the masculine. The Hall of Dharma embodied King Janak's approach to governance: an intellectual love of wisdom and respectful equality accorded to all points of view. The hall, therefore, was circular. All ris.h.i.+s sat as equals, without a moderating head', debating issues openly and without fear; freedom of expression at its zenith.

However, today was different. There were no ma.n.u.scripts lying on low tables, or ris.h.i.+s moving to the centre in a disciplined sequence, to deliver speeches or debate their points. The Hall of Dharma was set to host a swayamvar.

Temporary three-tiered spectator stands stood near the entrance. At the other end, on a wooden platform, was placed the king's throne. A statue of the great King Mithi, the founder of Mithila, stood on a raised pedestal behind the throne. Two thrones, only marginally less grand, were placed to the left and right of the king's throne. A circle of comfortable seats lined the middle section of the great hall, where kings and princes, the potential suitors, would sit.

The spectator stands were already packed when Ram and Lakshman were led in by Arishtanemi. Most contestants too had taken their seats. Not many recognised the two princes of Ayodhya, dressed as they were as hermits. A guard gestured for them to move towards the base platform of a three-tiered stand, occupied by the n.o.bility and rich merchants of Mithila. Arishtanemi informed the guard that he accompanied a compet.i.tor. The guard was surprised but he did recognise Arishtanemi, the lieutenant of the great Vishwamitra, and stepped aside to let them proceed. After all, it would not be unusual for the devout King Janak to invite even Brahmin ris.h.i.+s, not just Kshatriya kings, for his daughter's swayamvar.

The walls of the Hall of Dharma were decorated by portraits of the greatest ris.h.i.+s and ris.h.i.+kas of times past: Maharis.h.i.+ Satyakam, Maharis.h.i.+ Yajnavalkya, Maharis.h.i.+ka Gargi, and Maharis.h.i.+ka Maitreyi, among others. Ram mused: How unworthy are we, the descendants of these great ancestors. Maharis.h.i.+kas Gargi and Maitreyi were ris.h.i.+kas, and today there are fools who claim that women are not to be allowed to study the scriptures or to write new ones. Maharis.h.i.+ Satyakam was the son of a Shudra single mother. His profound knowledge and wisdom is recorded in our greatest Upanishads; and today there are bigots who claim that the Shudra-born cannot become ris.h.i.+s.

Ram bowed his head and brought his hands together, paying obeisance to the great sages of yore. A person becomes a Brahmin by karma, not by birth.

Dada,' said Lakshman, touching Ram's back.

Ram followed Arishtanemi to the allotted seat.

He seated himself as Lakshman and Arishtanemi stood behind him. All eyes turned to them. The contestants wondered who these simple mendicants were, who hoped to compete with them for Princess Sita's hand. A few, though, recognised the princes of Ayodhya. A conspiratorial buzz was heard from a section of the contestants.

Ayodhya...'

Why does Ayodhya want an alliance with Mithila?'

Ram, however, was oblivious to the stares and whispers of the a.s.sembly. He had eyes only for the centre of the hall; placed ceremonially on a table top was the bow. Next to the table, at ground level, was a large copper-plated basin.

Ram's eyes first lingered on the Pinaka. It was unstrung. An array of arrows was placed by the side of the bow.

Compet.i.tors were first required to pick up the bow and string it, which itself was no mean task. But it was then that the challenge truly began. The contestant would move to the copper-plated basin. It was filled with water, with additional drops trickling in steadily from the rim of the basin, attached to which was a thin tube. Excess water was drained out of the basin by another thin tube, attached to the other side. This created subtle ripples within the bowl, which spread out from the centre towards the edge. Agonisingly, the drops of water were released at irregular intervals, making the ripples, in turn, unpredictable.

A hilsa fish was nailed to a wheel, fixed to an axle that was suspended from the top of the dome, a hundred metres above the ground. The wheel, thankfully, revolved at a constant speed. The contestants were required to look at the reflection of the fish in the unstill water below, disturbed by ripples generated at irregular intervals, and use the Pinaka bow to fire an arrow into the eye of the fish, fixed on the revolving wheel high above them. The first to succeed would win the hand of the bride.

This is too simple for you, Dada,' said Lakshman, mischievously. Should I ask them to make the wheel revolve at irregular intervals, too? Or twist the feather-fletching on the arrow? What do you think?'

Ram looked up at Lakshman, narrowed his eyes and glared at his brother.

Lakshman grinned. Sorry, Dada.'

He stepped back as the king was announced.

The Lord of the Mithi clan, the wisest of the wise, beloved of the ris.h.i.+s, King Janak!'

The court arose to welcome their host, Janak, the king of Mithila. He walked in from the far end of the hall. Interestingly, in a deviation from tradition, he followed Vishwamitra, who was in the lead. Behind Janak was his younger brother, Kushadhwaj, the king of Sankashya. Even more interestingly, Janak requested Vishwamitra to occupy the throne of Mithila, as he moved towards the smaller throne to the right. Kushadhwaj walked towards the seat on the left of the great maharis.h.i.+. A flurry of officials scuttled all over the place, for this was an unexpected breach of protocol.

A loud buzz ran through the hall at this unorthodox seating arrangement, but Ram was intrigued by something else. He turned towards Lakshman, seated behind him. His younger brother verbalised Ram's thought. Where is Raavan?'

The court crier banged his staff against the large bell at the entrance of the hall, signalling a call for silence.

Vishwamitra cleared his throat and spoke loudly. The superb acoustics of the Hall of Dharma carried his voice clearly to all those present. Welcome to this august gathering called by the wisest and most spiritual of rulers in India, King Janak.'

Janak smiled genially.

Vishwamitra continued. The princess of Mithila, Sita, has decided to make this a gupt swayamvar. She will not join us in the hall. The great kings and princes will, on her bidding, compete-'

The maharis.h.i.+ was interrupted by the ear-splitting sounds of numerous conch sh.e.l.ls; surprising, for conch sh.e.l.ls were usually melodious and pleasant. Everyone turned to the source of the sound: the entrance of the great hall. Fifteen tall, muscular warriors strode into the room bearing black flags, with the image of the head of a roaring lion emerging from a profusion of fiery flames. The warriors marched with splendid discipline. Behind them were two formidable men. One was a giant, even taller than Lakshman. He was corpulent but muscular, with a ma.s.sive potbelly that jiggled with every step. His whole body was unusually hirsute - he looked more like a giant bear than human. Most troubling, for all those present, were the strange outgrowths on his ears and shoulders. He was a Naga. Ram recognised him as the first to have emerged from the Pushpak Vimaan.

Walking proudly beside him was Raavan, his head held high. He moved with a minor stoop; perhaps a sign of increasing age.

The two men were followed by fifteen more warriors, or more correctly, bodyguards.

Raavan's entourage moved to the centre and halted next to the bow of Lord Rudra. The lead bodyguard made a loud announcement. The king of kings, the emperor of emperors, the ruler of the three worlds, the beloved of the G.o.ds, Lord Raavan!'

Raavan turned towards a minor king who sat closest to the Pinaka. He made a soft grunting sound and flicked his head to the right, a casual gesture which clearly communicated what he expected. The king immediately rose and scurried away, coming to a standstill behind another compet.i.tor. Raavan walked to the chair, but did not sit. He placed his right foot on the seat and rested his hand on his knee. His bodyguards, including the giant bear-man, fell in line behind him. Raavan finally cast a casual glance at Vishwamitra. Continue, great Malayaputra.'

Vishwamitra, the chief of the Malayaputras, was furious. He had never been treated so disrespectfully. Raavan...' he growled.

Raavan stared at Vishwamitra with lazy arrogance.

Vishwamitra managed to rein in his temper; he had an important task at hand. He would deal with Raavan later. Princess Sita has decreed the sequence in which the great kings and princes will compete.'

Raavan began to walk towards the Pinaka while Vishwamitra was still speaking. The chief of the Malayaputras completed his announcement just as Raavan was about to reach for the bow. The first man to compete is not you, Raavan. It is Ram, the prince of Ayodhya.'

Raavan's hand stopped a few inches from the bow. He looked at Vishwamitra, and then turned around to see who had responded to the sage. He saw a young man, dressed in the simple white clothes of a hermit. Behind him stood another young, though gigantic man, next to whom was Arishtanemi. Raavan glared first at Arishtanemi, and then at Ram. If looks could kill, Raavan would have certainly felled a few today. He turned towards Vishwamitra, Janak and Kushadhwaj, his fingers wrapped around the macabre, finger-bone pendant that hung around his neck. He growled in a loud and booming voice, I have been insulted!'

Ram noticed that the giant bear-man, who stood behind Raavan's chair, was shaking his head imperceptibly; seemingly rueing being there.

Why was I invited at all if you planned to make unskilled boys compete ahead of me?!' Raavan's body shook with fury.

Janak looked at Kushadhwaj with irritation before turning to Raavan and interjecting weakly, These are the rules of the swayamvar, Great King of Lanka...'

A voice that sounded more like the rumble of thunder was finally heard; it was the giant bear-man. Enough of this nonsense!' He turned towards Raavan. Dada, let's go.'

Raavan suddenly bent and picked up the Pinaka. Before anyone could react, he had strung it and nocked an arrow on the string. Everyone sat paralysed as Raavan pointed the arrow directly at Vishwamitra. Lakshman was forced to acknowledge the strength as well as the skill of this man.

The crowd gasped collectively in horror as Vishwamitra stood up, threw his angvastram aside, and banged his chest with his closed fist. Shoot, Raavan!'

Ram was stunned by the warrior-like behaviour of this ris.h.i.+. Raw courage in a man of knowledge was a rarity. But then, Vishwamitra had been a warrior once.

The sage's voice resounded in the great hall. Come on! Shoot, if you have the guts!'

Raavan released the arrow. It slammed into the statue of Mithi behind Vishwamitra, breaking off the nose of the ancient king. Ram stared at Raavan; his fists were, uncharacteristically, clenched. This insult to the founder of the city was not challenged by a single Mithilan.

Raavan dismissed King Janak with a wave of his hand as he glared at King Kushadhwaj. He threw the bow on the table and began to walk towards the door, followed by his guards. In all this commotion, the giant bear-man stepped up to the table, unstrung the Pinaka, and reverentially brought it to his head as he held it with both hands; almost like he was apologising to the bow. He turned around and briskly walked out of the room, behind Raavan. Ram's eyes remained pinned on him till he left the room.

As the last of the Lankans exited, the people within the hall turned in unison from the doorway to those seated at the other end of the room: Vishwamitra, Janak and Kushadhwaj.

What are they going to do now?

Vishwamitra spoke as if nothing had happened. Let the compet.i.tion begin.'

The people in the room sat still, as if they had turned to stone, en ma.s.se. Vishwamitra spoke once again, louder this time. Let the compet.i.tion begin. Prince Ram, please step up.'

Ram rose from his chair and walked up to the Pinaka. He bowed with reverence, folded his hands together into a namaste, and softly repeated an ancient chant: Om Rudraya Namah.' The universe bows to Lord Rudra. I bow to Lord Rudra.

He raised his right wrist and touched both his eyes with the red thread tied around it. He felt a charge run through his body as he touched the bow. Was this his devotion towards Lord Rudra, or did the bow unselfishly transmit its acc.u.mulated power to the prince of Ayodhya? Those seeking only factual knowledge would a.n.a.lyse what happened. Those in love with wisdom would simply enjoy the moment. Ram savoured the moment as he touched the bow again. He then brought his head down and placed it on the bow; he asked to be blessed.

He breathed steadily as he lifted the bow with ease. Sita, hidden behind a latticed window next to Kushadhwaj, looked at Ram intently with bated breath.

Ram placed one arm of the bow on a wooden stand placed on the ground. His shoulders, back and arms strained visibly as he pulled down the upper limb of the Pinaka, simultaneously pulling up the bowstring. His body laboured at the task, but his face remained serene. He bent the upper limb farther with a slight increase in effort as he tied the bowstring. His muscles relaxed as he let go of the upper limb and held the bow at the grip. He brought the bowstring close to his ear and plucked; the tw.a.n.g was perfect.

He picked up an arrow and walked to the copper-plated basin with deliberate, unhurried footsteps. He went down on one knee, held the bow horizontally above his head and looked down at the water; at the reflection of the fish that moved in a circle above him. The rippling water in the basin danced as if to tantalise his mind. Ram focused on the image of the fish to the exclusion of all else. He nocked the arrow on the string of the bow and pulled slowly with his right hand, his back erect, the core muscles activated with ideal tension. His breathing was steady and rhythmic. As was his consciousness, so was the response from the universe. He handed himself over to a higher force as he pulled the string all the way back and released the arrow. It shot up, as did the vision of each person in the room. The unmistakable sound of a furiously speeding arrow cras.h.i.+ng into wood reverberated in the great hall. It had pierced the right eye of the fish, and lodged itself into the wooden wheel. The wheel swirled rhythmically as the shaft of the arrow drew circles in the air. Ram's mind reclaimed its awareness of the surroundings as his eyes continued to study the rippling water; he smiled. Not because he had hit the target. He had, in fact, earned a sense of completion of his being, with that shot. From this moment on, he was no longer alone.

He whispered, in the confines of his mind, a tribute to the woman he admired; Lord Rudra had said the same words to Lady Mohini, the woman he loved, many many centuries ago.

I have become alive. You have made me alive.

Chapter 24.

The wedding was a simple set of solemn rituals, observed in the afternoon of the day that Ram won the swayamvar. To Ram's surprise, Sita had suggested that Lakshman and Urmila get married in the same auspicious hour of the day. To Ram's further disbelief, Lakshman had enthusiastically agreed. It was decided that while both the couples would be married in Mithila - to allow Sita and Urmila to travel with Ram and Lakshman to Ayodhya - a set of grand ceremonies would be held in Ayodhya as well; ones befitting the scions of the clan of Raghu.

Sita and Ram were alone at last. They sat on floor cus.h.i.+ons in the dining hall, their dinner placed on a low stool. It was late in the evening, the sixth hour of the third prahar. Despite the fact that their relations.h.i.+p had been sanctified by dharma a few hours earlier, there was an awkwardness that underlined their ignorance of each other's personalities.

Umm,' said Ram, as he stared at his plate.

Yes, Ram?' asked Sita. Is there a problem?'

I'm sorry, but ... the food...'

Is it not to your liking?'

No, no, it's good. It's very good. But...'

Yes?'

It needs a bit of salt.'

Sita immediately pushed her plate aside, rose and clapped her hands. An attendant came rus.h.i.+ng in.

Get some salt for the prince, please.' As the attendant turned, Sita ordered with emphasis, Quickly!'

The attendant broke into a run.

Ram cleaned his hand with a napkin as he waited for the salt. I'm sorry to trouble you.'

Sita frowned as she resumed her seat. I'm your wife, Ram. It's my duty to take care of you.'

Ram smiled. Umm, may I ask you something?'

Of course.'

Tell me something about your childhood.'

You mean, before I was adopted? You do know that I was adopted, right?'

Yes... I mean, you don't have to talk about it if it troubles you.'

Sita smiled. No, it doesn't trouble me, but I don't remember anything. I was too young when I was found by my adoptive parents.'

Ram nodded.

Sita answered the question that she thought was on his mind. So, if you ask me who my birth-parents are, the short answer is that I don't know. But the one I prefer is that I am a daughter of the earth.'