Raavan- Enemy of Aryavarta Page 9

  ‘A poem?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Composed by whom?’

  Raavan remained silent. He looked almost embarrassed.

  Kumbhakarna raised his eyebrows. ‘By you, Dada?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘By the great Goddess Saraswati, how did this miracle happen? I had no idea you composed poetry!’

  ‘Will you keep quiet and listen?’

  ‘Of course!’

  Raavan picked up a scroll, looking nervous and excited at the same time. He cleared his throat, then said, ‘It’s called “The Ballad of the Sun and the Earth”.’

  ‘How eloquent! I like it already.’

  ‘Shut up and listen, Kumbha.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ll try to be serious. Poetry is no joking matter after all.’ Kumbhakarna smiled impishly.

  ‘Well, it’s a story as much as it’s a poem. Now, listen:

  ‘The Ballad of the Sun and the Earth

  The Clouds rush to the Mountain…’

  Kumbhakarna interrupted. ‘What are the clouds and the mountain doing there? I thought this was about the sun and the earth.’

  Raavan glared at Kumbhakarna, who immediately put his hands together contritely.

  ‘No interruptions, I am warning you,’ Raavan said. He took a deep breath and started again.

  The Ballad of the Sun and the Earth

  The Clouds rush to the Mountain,

  they caress him gently,

  they fight for his attention,

  they rise to kiss his lips.

  The Clouds believe the Mountain is smitten,

  that he stands so high to not let them pass,

  that he stands uncomfortably still, with rishi-like repose,

  because he waits for their return every year.

  There’s no doubt in their mind:

  The Mountain loves them.

  It’s sad that they’ll never know

  that the Mountain doesn’t care for them,

  he only wants the nourishing rain they carry,

  he doesn’t nudge them up to kiss them,

  he does it to break them and get what he wants,

  and by the time they understand,

  it’s too late.

  It’s sad that no Cloud survives to warn the others.

  The River rushes to the Sea,

  her instincts tell her this is her destiny.

  She’s grown up on stories of love,

  on tales of blind and illogical passion,

  and she’s in too much of a hurry to meet

  her lover, to feel rather than think.

  But when she sees the Sea,

  his immensity, depth, power,

  she hesitates and meanders.

  But her innate romanticism wins,

  And she flows happily into his arms.

  It’s sad that she’ll never know

  that the Sea doesn’t love her,

  that the Sea is too lost in his own grandiosity

  to even notice the River.

  That her loving embrace doesn’t change the Sea,

  that the water she received as a gift from the Sea

  was actually given to her by a philanthropic Sun.

  It’s sad that by the time the River realises the truth,

  She’s already lost her identity.

  And then there’s the Earth.

  Unlike the others, she thinks more than feels,

  Her mind is more powerful than her heart,

  She sees the Sun,

  Luminous and spirited, alone and magnificent,

  Has so much and is so wasteful with it.

  The Earth, being smart,

  Uses the Sun’s wasted energy,

  Nourishes herself and grows,

  in character, in mind, body and spirit.

  She marvels at her own brilliance

  and what she’s done with her life.

  She fears the Sun and his immense power,

  and detests the way he lavishes his God-given gifts.

  It’s sad that she’ll never know that the Sun could have left,

  Yet he stands there all alone, so that he can give to the Earth.

  He burns himself, so she may benefit from it,

  He wants to come closer, but he knows he can’t,

  He knows his passion is so strong that he’ll hurt her,

  So he stands apart and admires his Lady.

  It’s sad that no one’s around to tell the Earth

  Tell her just how much the Sun loves her.

  Raavan put the scroll away and waited for his brother’s response.

  Kumbhakarna looked contemplative.

  ‘Dada, that was powerful,’ he said after a moment.

  Raavan smiled. ‘Do you really like it?’

  ‘I love it! Trust me, Dada, there will come a time when even the Mahadevs and the Vishnus will quote this poem!’

  Raavan laughed. ‘You really do love me a lot, kid brother…’

  ‘That I do! But seriously, Dada, you can play music, you sing, you write poetry, you are a warrior, you are wealthy, you are well-read, you are super-intelligent. There’s no one like you in the whole wide world!’

  Raavan puffed out his chest exaggeratedly. ‘Quite right. There is nobody like me!’

  They burst out laughing.

  A month had passed since the decision to rob Krakachabahu had been made. Raavan and his crew were to sail out of the Gokarna port the following day. Considering the speed at which the ship could sail, they expected to be in Chilika within a few days. Akampana, Mareech and a hundred soldiers would accompany him. Kumbhakarna had insisted on tagging along too, and after a few unconvincing attempts at dissuading him, Raavan had relented.

  Mareech and Akampana had already struck a deal with Prahast. He would first help Raavan steal Krakachabahu’s treasure, and then leave Chilika with them. Most opportunely, Krakachabahu had recently sailed out to his homeland Nahar, situated in between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. Half a world away from Chilika.

  The night before the proposed heist, Raavan decided to visit his favourite courtesan, Dadimikali, the most expensive courtesan in the most elite pleasure house in Gokarna. Only the best would do for him!

  He lay on the bed now, a sheet pulled up to his waist. Dadimikali was lying on her stomach, her head resting on Raavan’s thighs. Nude as the day she was born. She was lithe of body and slim, with curves in all the right places.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow,’ she giggled. She turned towards Raavan and felt her way up. ‘But it looks like you are ready for more.’

  Raavan stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. ‘I don’t think you can take it.’

  Dadimikali gazed at his face lovingly. ‘You know I can take anything from you.’

  Raavan looked away. Bored. Dadimikali’s affection was becoming increasingly cloying. His mind wandered to the dog he had killed a few months back. The one that had kept following him around.

  Mangy, pathetic-looking creature. Disgusting. It needed to be put out of its misery.

  ‘Raavan?’

  Raavan didn’t answer. He focused on his breathing. A long-dormant animal was slowly beginning to stir inside him.

  ‘Raavan,’ whispered Dadimikali. ‘I think I love you.’

  Raavan could feel the animal inside him awaken.

  Dadimikali edged up and pressed her naked breasts against him. Love poured out of her eyes. ‘You don’t have to tell me you love me. I understand. I just want you to know that I love you.’

  ‘What are you staring at?’ growled Raavan.

  He knew his swarthy skin was attractive to most women. But the pockmarks on his face always made him feel self-conscious. He was growing a beard and a moustache to hide as many of the marks as he could.

  Dadimikali kept gazing at him. ‘I’m looking at your beautiful face…’

  She moved closer, pouting her lips in readiness for a kiss. Raavan grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back.

>   ‘Which part of my face are you staring at?’ he demanded.

  Dadimikali knew that Raavan sometimes liked things rough. She lay back on the bed with her hands clasped behind her head. Surrendering completely. ‘I am your slave. Do what you want with me.’

  Raavan was gripped by desire. The desire to know what it would feel like to peel the beautiful skin off Dadimikali’s face and see the pink flesh underneath. To slice through it. Hacking at the tissue and arteries. Reaching the bone. Sawing through the bone. He felt his breath quicken with excitement. The animal inside him was roaring now.

  Oblivious to the reason for Raavan’s excitement, Dadimikali edged closer once again. She kissed Raavan gently. Offering herself to him. Submissively.

  He bit down on her lips. Hard. Drawing blood. She didn’t cry out. She remained still. Waiting for Raavan to do more.

  Raavan’s breath quickened. His body urged him to finish what he had started. He felt intoxicated. Then, from the deep recesses of his mind, he heard a soft voice.

  Dada…

  Kumbhakarna’s voice. Filled with innocence. And fear.

  No. Not her. I can’t keep it quiet here. Kumbhakarna will find out…

  But the animal inside growled louder.

  I have the money to keep it quiet.

  He looked into Dadimikali’s trusting eyes. Her puckered lips. Her heaving chest.

  She wants it. She’s asking for it. She’s pathetic. Disgusting. She needs to be put out of her misery.

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her. Crushing her. She whimpered slightly. But did not complain.

  ‘I am yours. Do what you will with me…’

  Suddenly, Raavan heard the familiar, calm voice in his head.

  You can be better than this.

  The voice of the Kanyakumari. The voice of a living Goddess.

  His navel throbbed, the pain intensifying.

  Raavan pushed Dadimikali away and leapt off the bed. She reached for him, trying to stop him from leaving. ‘What happened? What did I say?’

  ‘Get away from me!’ he hissed.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘Don’t leave me… please…’

  Raavan turned and slapped her across the face. Savagely. As she fell back on the bed, he picked up his clothes and stormed out of the room.

  Raavan and Kumbhakarna stood on the upper deck of the ship, admiring the view. They had just sailed into Chilika lake. Mareech and Akampana were on the lower deck, supervising the progress of the vessel towards the small island of Nalaban, in the centre of the lake.

  The entire island had been reserved for Krakachabahu’s use. His palace was on the top of a hill, right in the middle of the island. The hill was man-made, created from the earth that had been dredged up from Chilika lake to increase the depth of the water so large ships could enter. Much of the land around the house had been left undisturbed. Wild and lush. Nalaban was also a bio hotspot, welcoming large numbers of varied species of birds during their winter migration.

  Krakachabahu was perceived to be a simple man, dedicated to his job. His apparent respect for Mother Nature and the simple gubernatorial palace helped him maintain appearances with the king of Kalinga, and hide his thieving. The truth was that he planned to take his illicit skimming of the Kalinga revenues and leave soon. He had stashed away enough money, and he intended to use it to raise an army to conquer Nahar. His long-term plan was to rule his home country.

  But he didn’t know that his plan was about to be upended by an upstart trader from Lanka.

  ‘You remember my instructions, right?’ Raavan asked his brother.

  ‘I do, Dada, but can’t I come with you?’

  ‘No, you can’t. We’ve discussed this already. Now repeat my instructions.’

  ‘We’ll sail to the secondary wharf on the island and present our manifest as a trading ship from Thailand. All of you will go in carrying empty chests, which you will fill with Krakachabahu’s gold and precious stones. Then you will carry them back to the ship.’

  Raavan laughed and ruffled Kumbhakarna’s hair. ‘Kumbha, that’s what I need to do. Tell me what you are supposed to do.’

  ‘Oh that, yeah… So, I’ll be waiting at the wharf for you. In case I see any sign of trouble, I’ll sound the ship’s horn and sail out. I’ll wait for you at the main wharf on the other side of the island. And you’ll meet me there.’

  The main wharf had been damaged a few months ago, when a craft lost control of its steering and rudder mechanism, and crashed into it. It was under repair now and all traffic had been directed to the secondary wharf.

  ‘That’s correct. Now, I am leaving some men here with you. But you will not attempt to be unnecessarily brave if there is trouble. You will sail out and meet me at the main wharf, the damaged one.’

  ‘Yes, Dada.’

  Raavan bent closer to Kumbhakarna. ‘Promise me that you will sail away and not do anything foolish.’

  ‘Have I ever disobeyed your instructions, Dada?’ asked Kumbhakarna, looking hurt.

  ‘Often,’ said Raavan sardonically. ‘Go on, promise me. Swear in the name of Lord Rudra.’

  ‘Dada! I can’t take Lord Rudra’s name so casually.’

  ‘Swear!’

  ‘Fine! I swear in the name of Lord Rudra. I’ll sail away at the first sign of trouble and meet you at the main wharf.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘By the great Lord Indra!’ exclaimed Raavan, turning the flawless pink diamond around in his hand. ‘It’s hard to believe this little rock is worth four hundred thousand gold coins.’

  The colour of a diamond significantly determined its value. If a white diamond exhibited a yellow hue, its price went down. If it exhibited a pink hue, a much rarer phenomenon, its price shot up.

  Mareech stepped closer to admire the precious stone. ‘It’s not little by any stretch of the imagination, Raavan. It’s the biggest diamond I have ever seen.’

  Akampana stood to one side, looking around nervously.

  ‘Doesn’t it look like it’s bleeding from the inside?’ asked Raavan, enchanted. ‘I wonder how it got this pink hue.’

  Nobody knew how or why a diamond acquired its colour. Some said it was because of the pressure exerted on the stone over many millennia. Others opined that the enormous forces unleashed by earthquakes caused a diamond’s colour to change. A few even considered a pink diamond to be unlucky. A carrier of bad karma.

  ‘Would you know?’ asked Raavan, showing the diamond to Akampana.

  ‘Raavan, it doesn’t matter how it became pink. As long as it is pink. Let’s leave. Please.’

  Raavan laughed softly. ‘Always so nervous, Akampana.’

  He stepped back from the tiny, secret chamber that had been artfully built into the thick wall. He looked at Prahast, standing at the far end of the room. Prahast’s loyal soldiers were positioned alongside him, their swords drawn. Dripping with blood. In front of them were three eunuchs on their knees. Part of Governor Krakachabahu’s Naharin security team. They bore the wounds of the gruesome torture they had been subjected to, until they revealed the location of the secret chamber where the precious stones were kept.

  Raavan nodded at Prahast. The men immediately swung their swords and decapitated the three eunuchs. Raavan’s instructions had been clear. No eye-witnesses were to be left behind to identify the perpetrators of the robbery. Everyone in the palace—the security staff, the maids, the cooks, the helpers—had been killed. In cold blood.

  Prahast had managed to corrupt half the security force, with loyalty earned over many years and large amounts of gold promised over the previous week. His men had launched a surprise attack on the other Naharins in the palace. Swift and clean.

  Nobody outside had an inkling of the massacre that had taken place within the palace. In an attempt to mislead Krakachabahu, dead bodies had been brought into the palace earlier. Their faces had been smashed in to prevent identification. To convince the Naharin governor of Chilika that Prahast and the others in his s
ecurity force had also been killed during the robbery.

  It was a brutal plan. But also efficient and practical. Like Raavan himself.

  On Prahast’s advice, Raavan had decided against killing the workers whom they had seen repairing the damaged wharf, at some distance from the governor’s residence. To kill them in the open was to risk exposure. In any case, the workers were never allowed near the palace or the secondary wharf. So the chances of them identifying Raavan and his gang were next to none.

  Raavan’s men had already carried the gold out of the palace in large chests. These were being loaded on the ship right now. He had stayed behind, with Mareech, Akampana and a few others to gather the precious stones. For just these stones were worth a little over two million gold coins.

  Raavan stepped forward and stared at the decapitated bodies of the three Naharin eunuchs. As the blood continued to leak out of their gaping necks, he stood still, almost hypnotised. Drawn to the bloody spectacle before him.

  He bent forward. Trying to distinguish the different arteries through which the thick red fluid was gushing out. The bodies were lifeless. But their hearts didn’t seem to know that yet. They were still pumping. Weakly. But still despatching blood to heads that weren’t there anymore.

  Akampana touched Raavan’s arm. ‘Raavan…’

  Raavan snapped out of his reverie and slipped the stone in his hand into the pouch tied to his cummerbund, where it clinked against the others. He took a deep breath and looked at the others. ‘Let’s go.’

  Just then, the ship’s horn sounded. Loud. Insistent.

  ‘Run!’ shouted Raavan.

  Everyone reacted immediately. They knew what they had to do. The plan was clear. They had to rush to their horses and ride like the wind to the main wharf. Kumbhakarna would be waiting for them there, in Raavan’s ship.

  ‘Hyaah!’

  Raavan and his men rode their horses hard. Ten of them. Mareech in the lead. Raavan bringing up the rear-guard. They were riding downhill, fast and furious.

  ‘To the right!’ shouted Mareech, pointing.

  A fork in the road was coming up. The road to the right led downhill to the damaged wharf. The other one went straight to the secondary wharf, which was visible in the far distance. Where Raavan’s ship should have been. But it was missing. From high up on the hill, they could see another large ship moored there. It had just cruised in, for the sails were still up. So was the flag. It was Krakachabahu’s vessel. He had returned early.