Raavan- Enemy of Aryavarta Page 11

Of course, Raavan’s plan did not end with merely raiding other ships for treasure. Exploiting the growing fear of pirate attacks at sea, he started building his own mini army under the leadership of Prahast. He claimed it was a protection force for his ships. Though it was unusual for a trader to have a standing corps of trained soldiers, many thought it was a logical way to protect profits. Some of the other traders started hiring the services of Raavan’s protection force too. Not only did Raavan make profits from hiring out his force, his soldiers also became a source of information for him, about his rivals and their trading plans.

  Profits flowed in at a tremendous pace. Raavan was already among the wealthiest traders in Gokarna. He would soon be one of the wealthiest traders in the world. Wealthy enough for even the richest man on the planet, Kubaer, to take notice.

  Aware that they could not risk the Malayaputras finding out about the real use of the cave material, Mareech had gone about leasing the Pushpak Vimaan from Kubaer. He had negotiated very hard on the price so that it would seem like a credible deal. Kubaer, the ever-pragmatic trader, had readily agreed. The vimaan was so expensive to run that he had virtually stopped using it. And, like any machine not put to regular use, it was slowly rusting away. From his point of view, any deal was better than no deal.

  When Mareech took over the Pushpak Vimaan, the first thing he did was to strip away all the luxuries that Kubaer had built into the flying craft. Out went the gold-plated bed with its soft mattress and the large, well-stocked kitchen for the preparation of exotic food. The vimaan was deprived of everything that smacked of ineffectual opulence without providing any practical value. Removing these luxuries vastly reduced the weight of the craft. The reduced payload meant that the quantities of cave material required to fly the aircraft came down drastically. This slashed the cost of running the craft.

  Mareech also limited the use of the vimaan. It would now be used only for flights to distant lands. To seek information, and for trade in extremely valuable but light cargo, such as precious stones. Raavan sometimes accompanied him on these flights.

  It was one such trip that Mareech had come to discuss with Raavan.

  ‘Are you sure about this information?’ asked Raavan gruffly, as he continued his workout.

  Mareech and Raavan were on the first-floor balcony of his mansion. The house was situated on a tall hill that jutted into the sea. It afforded brilliant views of the Indian Ocean, which stretched as far as the eye could see. And beyond. Raavan came here every morning to perform the Surya namaskar, salutations to the Sun God; a perfect combination of exercise and spirituality.

  ‘Yes, the sailor is from southern Africa,’ said Mareech. ‘It’s first-hand news. He has seen the things he speaks of.’

  The man in question was Lethabo, one of the African sailors who had travelled to Kalinga with Kumbhakarna. He had turned up a few months ago with a message for Raavan, but an injury had prevented him from returning to his post with Kumbhakarna, who was presently in Vaidyanath. Mareech had gone to visit the sailor at the Gokarna Ayuralay where he was being treated. And that’s how he had learnt of the great mines full of precious stones, close to the southern tip of the African continent. Marked by a giant flat-topped mountain, which locals called the Table Mountain.

  ‘Hmm…’ Raavan remained non-committal as he finished his routine and did obeisance to the Sun God.

  ‘Raavan, it may be worth taking the Pushpak Vimaan there. Even if we find just a few precious stones, it will cover the cost of the trip. And if we do find a mine… well, I leave it to your imagination.’

  Raavan walked to the edge of the balcony and rested his hands on the railing. He looked towards the ocean, then away at the horizon.

  ‘Raavan?’

  Raavan remained silent.

  ‘Raavan, what is your decision?’

  There was no response.

  Mareech sighed. He walked up to his nephew and touched him on the shoulder.

  ‘Raavan…’

  ‘Kumbha…’

  ‘What?’

  Raavan pointed to a ship at the edge of the horizon. Its sails raised high. A flag aflutter. The flag of Kumbhakarna.

  ‘How can you make out the markings on the flag from this distance?’ asked Mareech in disbelief.

  ‘It’s him. I know it is,’ said Raavan, his face radiating delight.

  He turned around and almost ran outside, hollering at his guards to follow. He would board a ship quickly and sail out to meet his younger brother. He was too impatient to wait.

  He had to have news of her as soon as possible.

  News of the Kanyakumari.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Raavan had sailed out without delay, meeting his brother a few nautical miles from the Gokarna port. Kumbhakarna had been surprised by Raavan’s sudden appearance, but he could understand his elder brother’s anxiety. It had been three years.

  After an emotional reunion, Raavan had taken Kumbhakarna aside, to one end of the upper deck. And fired his questions. Questions about the Kanyakumari.

  ‘Yes, Dada, I am sure. I have seen her myself.’

  Raavan’s eyes lit up. ‘You’ve seen her?’

  Kumbhakarna smiled. ‘Yes. Lucky me!’

  Raavan smiled broadly. ‘Indeed. But how far away is this place?’

  ‘The village she stays in is quite far inland. In fact, it’s close to the Vaidyanath temple.’

  ‘Vaidyanath temple? Seriously? We stayed there for some time when you were a baby.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Kumbhakarna. ‘I’ve heard the entire tale from maa.’

  ‘But the Vaidyanath temple is quite close to the local Kanyakumari temple, is it not? What is the name of the place? Trikut? Why would she go back to live as an ordinary woman in the land where she was once worshipped as a Goddess?’

  ‘Apparently, it’s quite common for former Kanyakumaris to settle down close to the temple where they once reigned as living Goddesses. It has been known to happen not just at the Trikut Kanyakumari temple, but at many other Kanyakumari temples across India. I guess with so many other former Kanyakumaris around, a support structure is available for them to rebuild their lives.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Raavan, barely listening to what Kumbhakarna was saying.

  I should have gone to Vaidyanath much earlier. It was the logical thing to do, to search for her there. How foolish I have been! I’ve wasted so many years.

  ‘Dada…’

  ‘What?’ asked Raavan, bringing his mind back to the present.

  ‘I just want to say that there is a slight problem.’

  ‘What problem?’

  ‘Umm…’

  ‘Come on, out with it. There is nothing that your dada can’t handle.’

  ‘Dada, the Kanyakumari… She’s… she’s married.’

  Raavan waved his hand in dismissal. ‘Oh, that’s no problem. We’ll handle it.’

  ‘Handle it? How?’ Kumbhakarna looked anxious.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Kumbha,’ Raavan scoffed. ‘We will not kill her husband. How can we? He’s the Kanyakumari’s husband. We’ll buy him off.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘You leave that to me. How quickly can we leave for Vaidyanath?’

  ‘We can leave in a few days.’

  ‘Good!’

  Kumbhakarna laughed and mock-saluted Raavan. ‘At your command, Iraiva!’

  Iraiva was a title that Akampana used for Raavan. It meant ‘True Lord’ in the dialect that was spoken in Akampana’s homeland, far away in the Pashtun regions of north-western India. The title had caught on. Many of Raavan’s sailors now called him Iraiva.

  Raavan embraced his brother and ruffled his hair. Kumbhakarna, despite being nine years younger than Raavan, was nearly as tall as he was.

  ‘But you haven’t asked me the most obvious question, Dada,’ said Kumbhakarna. ‘I guess I’ve been away too long. And you’re getting slower as time passes.’

  Raavan pulled back from Kumbhakarna and frowned. ‘Wha
t question is that?’

  ‘Something you’ve wanted to know since forever. Ask me. I have the answer.’

  Raavan’s face brightened as he caught on. ‘You know it? You know her name?’

  Kumbhakarna nodded, laughing softly.

  Raavan grabbed his brother by the shoulders. ‘Tell me, you fool! What is her name?’

  ‘Vedavati.’

  Raavan held his breath. Letting the ethereal name echo in his ears. Through his body. Through his spirit.

  Vedavati.

  The embodiment of the Vedas.

  Raavan looked away from his brother, towards the sea. He felt as if his heart would burst at the sound of that divine name. He dared not speak it out loud. His soul wouldn’t be able to handle it. He let the name echo softly in the confines of his mind.

  Vedavati…

  Chapter 10

  The brothers were to leave the next morning. The fastest ship in their fleet had been prepared for the journey ahead.

  Surya, the Sun God, had called it a night. Fortunately, Som, the Moon God, had taken up the baton. It was a beautiful full-moon night. Some parts of the sea and the exquisite coastline of Gokarna were illuminated in the glimmer of the diffused moonlight. There were almost no clouds in the sky, and the star-studded night resembled a jewelled canopy. A cool, moist sea breeze soothed the senses. The discordant noises of the city had died down. Raavan looked up towards the sky.

  Love was in the air. And the pirate-trader breathed it in.

  ‘I can’t wait till tomorrow!’ he said, drinking some more wine.

  Kumbhakarna smiled. He had begged off sharing the wine with his elder brother. Their mother was home.

  Raavan savoured the elegant flavour of his drink, holding the glass up in appreciation. He glanced at the bottle. Then at Kumbhakarna’s empty hands.

  ‘Seriously?’ asked Raavan. ‘She actually told you not to pick up my bad habits? Sometimes I think I should just—’

  Kumbhakarna interrupted his elder brother. ‘Dada, does it really matter? She is our mother…’

  Raavan sighed. He drank some more wine.

  Though Kumbhakarna respected his mother’s wishes, at least in her presence, Kaikesi’s well-meaning warnings to her younger son went unheeded. Kumbhakarna idolised Raavan. His elder brother had always been his hero. Bad habits? He wanted to emulate every habit of Raavan’s. The only thing he wished his brother wouldn’t do was insult their mother.

  ‘So, tell me more about her,’ said Raavan. ‘The Kanyakumari…’

  Kumbhakarna had noticed that despite knowing her name, Raavan could not bring himself to say it. He wondered what else he could tell Raavan about Vedavati. He had already described her physical form. It was remarkable how closely she resembled the woman in Raavan’s paintings.

  ‘She truly is extraordinary, Dada,’ said Kumbhakarna. ‘You know how hard life is for most people, right? Taxes have gone up and jobs have been difficult to come by.’

  The anti-trader policies of most of the Sapt Sindhu kingdoms had resulted in a dramatic decline in business activities. An equally dramatic decline in tax revenues had followed. At the same time, royal expenditure had gone up due to the imperial preoccupation with war. So tax rates had been increased. This had further diminished the prospects for business and impacted job opportunities. In this atmosphere of desperation, crime too had increased. And as usual, the common folk suffered the brunt of it all. Mini rebellions were breaking out all over the country, especially against the petty nobles and landlords who served the kingdoms’ rulers. But Raavan was not interested in the condition of the people at this moment.

  ‘Tell me about the Kanyakumari.’

  ‘It’s linked to that, Dada. The Kanyakumari’s husband…’

  Kumbhakarna stopped as he saw Raavan’s jaw clench.

  Raavan looked away for a moment and then back at his brother. ‘Yes, what about him?’

  Kumbhakarna continued, ‘His name is Prithvi. He is, or was, a businessman from Balochistan, in the far western corner of India. He settled in Vaidyanath many years ago and tried his hand at some business. But he ended up making heavy losses.’

  ‘Loser.’

  Kumbhakarna decided to let Raavan’s jealous remark pass without comment. He had been told that Prithvi was an honest, straightforward, decent man. Even if he wasn’t the sharpest businessman going.

  ‘These losses in business,’ continued Kumbhakarna, ‘left him heavily indebted to the local landlord. To repay his debt, he is now working for the man.’

  ‘So the Kanyakumari is stuck doing some menial job because of her idiot husband?’

  ‘It appears she is there by choice, Dada. She too works for the landlord. Everyone in the area knows that she was the Kanyakumari and they respect her. Therefore, she is able to broker peace between the common people and the landlord, whenever it becomes necessary. The landlord ensures that there is enough food for his people. He also gets them jobs wherever he can, on his farm, or at construction sites in and around Chilika. They are reasonably content because of this and have no reason to rebel. Theirs is one of the more peaceful villages you will find in the Sapt Sindhu. Which is an achievement in these times of penury and anger. And it is all underwritten by the moral authority of Vedavatiji.’

  Raavan’s takeaway from all this was just one thing. ‘So, all we have to do is repay the debt to a petty village landlord and the Kanyakumari is free?’

  ‘Umm… Dada, I don’t know if it will be that simple.’

  ‘It is that simple. There is so much you have to learn about life, Kumbha. You are still very young.’

  Raavan’s ship was sailing up the eastern coast of India, towards Branga. Towards the mouth of the holy Ganga. They intended to sail up the river, to the point where it came closest to Vaidyanath. The crew would then march overland to the sacred temple town. The river Mayurakshi began its journey close to Vaidyanath, and flowed east to empty itself into the westernmost distributary of the Ganga. An amateur sailor might make the mistake of thinking that sailing up the Mayurakshi would be the fastest way to reach Vaidyanath. But Raavan was not an amateur. He knew that the Mayurakshi was a flood-prone river with treacherous and fast-moving currents. Sailing on it would be hard work, and slow. Better to sail further up the Ganga, and then walk or ride the rest of the way.

  ‘Are you sure you are fit enough to ride all the way to Vaidyanath?’ asked Raavan, playfully patting Kumbhakarna’s immense belly.

  The brothers were on the upper deck of the ship, walking down the corridor, towards the captain’s cabin. Raavan had just finished an hour of dance practice on the open deck, accompanied by his favourite musician, Surya. He had hired Surya at considerable expense some time ago, and persuaded him and his wife Annapoorna to accompany them on the voyage so he could continue to practice the dance form he was currently attempting to perfect.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, Dada. I am not the one who goes breathless at the mere mention of that “divine name”,’ said Kumbhakarna, a mock-devout expression on his face.

  Raavan burst out laughing and Kumbhakarna thumped him on the back, laughing even more loudly. They entered the cabin and Kumbhakarna shut the door behind them. Raavan walked up to an ornate cabinet and fetched a glass decanter and goblet. He poured himself some wine.

  ‘Maa is not here, Kumbha,’ said Raavan, holding the glass high. ‘You should try some.’

  ‘I have tried some already, Dada!’ Kumbhakarna grinned. ‘But I don’t like drinking at sea. It makes me feel like vomiting.’

  ‘Yuck,’ grimaced Raavan, ‘I did not need to know that.’ He flopped down on a chair placed near a porthole, across from his brother. ‘Anyway, now that I know you have tried wine already, I have to get you to try women. There are some very good courtesan-houses on the way. We’ll stop at one of them. Let you experience… shall we say, a woman’s touch.’

  Kumbhakarna giggled. Embarrassed and excited at the same time. He had heard stories. But he had no idea what he was sup
posed to do with a woman.

  ‘The only problem with women is their mouth,’ continued Raavan. ‘They talk. And what is more, they talk utter nonsense. You do know that in some parts of the world, they believe that heaven is above and hell is below, right? Well, it’s the exact opposite with women. With women, there is heaven below and hell above!’

  Raavan laughed aloud at his own joke. Kumbhakarna joined in somewhat uncertainly.

  ‘That is not true of all women, Dada,’ he offered. ‘When Vedavatiji speaks, one can sense the wisdom—’

  Before he could complete the sentence, Raavan cut in. ‘The Kanyakumari is not just a woman. She is a living Goddess.’

  ‘Of course, Dada.’

  Raavan looked out of the porthole, sipping his wine. Thinking of what he would tell her when he saw her. How he would woo her.

  Why will she refuse me? Especially when she finds out how I feel about her. When she gets to know how rich and powerful I am… and worthy of her love.

  ‘Dada, I just want to be honest about something. You should consider it seriously too.’ Kumbhakarna’s voice interrupted Raavan’s thoughts.

  Observing his younger brother’s grave expression, Raavan became serious too. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s just that…’ Kumbhakarna hesitated.

  ‘What happened, Kumbha? Out with it.’

  ‘Dada… don’t take this the wrong way… but honestly, I just don’t think the Kanyakumari will be impressed by your dancing. So don’t dance for her, please. I can guarantee that she will run away from you if you do.’

  Raavan picked up a small cushion that lay nearby and threw it at Kumbhakarna, who collapsed in peals of laughter.

  Raavan was laughing too. ‘You are certainly not the good little boy who maa fears I will corrupt.’

  Kumbhakarna grinned. ‘Trying to follow your example, Dada!’

  Raavan picked up another cushion that was at hand and threw it at Kumbhakarna. His younger brother caught it effortlessly, and put it behind his back. ‘I think I’m comfortable enough now, thank you. I won’t be needing any more!’

  Laughter filled the cabin. As he wiped away the tears of mirth, Raavan looked at his younger brother with love. And pride. For these few light-hearted moments, even the ever-present pain in his navel seemed to have disappeared. Joy and hope filled his heart.