Sita: Warrior of Mithila (Ram Chandra Series #2)
Amish
Acknowledgements
When one writes, one pours one’s soul out on paper. They say it takes courage to do that. They also say that courage comes only when one knows that many stand with him. I’d like to acknowledge those who stand with me: Who give me courage: Who make me realise that I am not alone.
Neel, my 8-year-old son, my pride and joy. He reads a lot already. I can’t wait for him to read my books!
Preeti, my wife; Bhavna, my sister; Himanshu, my brother-in-law; Anish and Ashish, my brothers, for all their inputs to the story. They read the first draft, usually as each chapter is written. And I discuss many of the philosophies with them in detail. I also wrote much of this book in Anish and Meeta’s house in Delhi. I must have done something good in my previous life to be blessed with these relationships.
The rest of my family: Usha, Vinay, Meeta, Donetta, Shernaz, Smita, Anuj, Ruta. For their consistent faith and love.
Sharvani, my editor. She is as committed to my stories as I am. She is as stubborn as I am. She reads a lot, just like I do. She’s as technologically-challenged as I am. We must have been siblings in a previous life!
Gautam, Krishnakumar, Neha, Deepthi, Satish, Sanghamitra, Jayanthi, Sudha, Vipin, Srivats, Shatrughan, Sarita, Arunima, Raju, Sanyog, Naveen, Jaisankar, Sateesh, Divya, Madhu, Sathya Sridhar, Christina, Preeti and the fantastic team at Westland, my publisher. In my humble opinion, they are the best publisher in India.
Anuj, my agent. A friend and a partner from the very beginning.
Abhijeet, an old friend and senior corporate executive, who worked with Westland to drive the marketing efforts for this book. The man is brilliant!
Mohan and Mehul, my personal managers, who manage everything so that I can have the time to write.
Abhijit, Sonali, Shruti, Roy, Kassandra, Joshua, Purva, Nalin, Nivedita, Neha, Nehal, and the team at Sideways, an exceptional company that applies creativity across all aspects of a business. Sideways helped formulate the business and marketing strategy for the book. They’ve also made most of the marketing material, including the cover. Which I think is one of the best covers I have ever seen. They were helped in the cover design by the Arthat team (Jitendra, Deval, Johnson) who are thoroughly outstanding designers.
Mayank, Priyanka Jain, Deepika, Naresh, Vishaal, Danish and the Moe’s Art team, who have driven media relations and marketing alliances for the book. They have been strong partners and among the best agencies I have worked with.
Hemal, Neha and the Oktobuzz team, who have helped manage many of the social media activities for the book. Hardworking, super smart and intensely committed. They are an asset to any team.
Mrunalini and Vrushali, Sanskrit scholars, who work with me on research. My discussions with them are enlightening. What I learn from them helps me develop many theories which go into the books.
And last, but certainly not the least, you, the reader. It is only due to your support that I have been given the privilege of living the kind of life I do; where I can do what I love and actually earn my living from it. I can never thank you enough!
Chapter 1
3400 BCE, somewhere near the Godavari River, India
Sita cut quickly and efficiently, slicing through the thick leaf stems with her sharp knife. The dwarf banana trees were as tall as she was. She did not need to stretch. She stopped and looked at her handiwork. Then she cast a look at Makrant, the Malayaputra soldier, a short distance away. He had cut down perhaps half the number of leaves that Sita had.
The weather was calm. Just a little while ago, the wind had been howling through this part of the forest. Unseasonal rain had lashed the area. Sita and Makrant had stood under a thick canopy of trees to save themselves from the rain. The winds had been so loud that it had been almost impossible for them to talk to each other. And just as suddenly, calm had descended. The rain and winds had vanished. They’d quickly headed to a patch of the woods with an abundance of dwarf banana trees. For the entire purpose of the excursion was to find these leaves.
‘That’s enough, Makrant,’ said Sita.
Makrant turned around. The wetness had made it hard to cut the leaf stems. Under the circumstances, he had thought that he had done a good job. Now, he looked at the stack of leaves by Sita’s side. And then down at his own much smaller pile. He smiled sheepishly.
Sita smiled broadly in return. ‘That’s more than enough. Let’s go back to the camp. Ram and Lakshman should be returning from their hunt soon. Hopefully, they would have found something.’
Sita, along with her husband Prince Ram of Ayodhya and her brother-in-law Lakshman, had been racing through the Dandakaranya, or forest of Dandak, to escape the expected vengeance of the demon-king of Lanka, Raavan. Captain Jatayu, leading a small company of the Malayaputra tribe, had sworn to protect the three Ayodhya royals. He had strongly advised that flight was the only available course of action. Raavan would certainly send troops to avenge his sister, Princess Shurpanakha, who had been injured by Lakshman.
Secrecy was essential. So, they were cooking their food in pits dug deep into the ground. For fire, they used a specific type of coal — anthracite. It let out smokeless flames. For abundant caution, the sunk cooking pot was covered with a thick layer of banana leaves. It ensured that no smoke escaped even by accident. For that could give their position away. It was for this reason that Sita and Makrant had been cutting down banana leaves. It was Sita’s turn to cook.
Makrant insisted on carrying the larger pile, and she let him. It made the Malayaputra soldier feel like he was balancing his contribution. But it was this act that would eventually prove fatal for poor Makrant.
Sita heard it first. A sound that would have been inaudible a little while ago, with the howling winds. It was unmistakable now: the menacing creak of a bow being stretched. A common bow. Many of the more accomplished soldiers and senior officers used the more expensive composite bows. But the frontline soldiers used the common variety, made entirely of wood. These bows were usually more rigid. And, they made a distinct sound when stretched.
‘Makrant, duck!’ screamed Sita, dropping the leaves as she leapt to the ground.
Makrant responded quickly enough, but the heavier load made him trip. An arrow shot in quickly, slamming into his right shoulder as he fell forward. Before he could react, a second arrow struck his throat. A lucky shot.