‘Are you sending me away because of what I did with chacha?’ sobbed Sita.
Sunaina and Janak immediately went down on their knees and held her close.
‘Of course not, my darling,’ said Sunaina. ‘This has nothing to do with your uncle. You have to study. You must get educated so that you can help run this kingdom someday.’
‘Yes, Sita,’ said Janak. ‘Your mother is right. What happened with Kushadhwaj uncle has nothing to do with you. It is between him, and your mother and I.’
Sita burst into a fresh bout of tears. She clung to her parents like she’d never let them go.
Chapter 5
Two years had passed since Sita had arrived in Shvetaketu’s gurukul. While the ten-year-old student had impressed her guru with her intelligence and sharpness, it was her enthusiasm for the outdoors that was truly extraordinary. Especially noteworthy was her skill in stick-fighting.
But her spirited temperament also created problems on occasion. Like the time when a fellow student had called her father an ineffectual king, more suited to being a teacher than a ruler. Sita’s response had been to thrash the living daylights out of him. The boy had been confined to the gurukul Ayuralay for almost a month. He had limped for two months after that.
A worried Shvetaketu had arranged for extra classes on the subjects of non-violence and impulse control. The hotheaded girl had also been strictly reminded of the rules against physical violence on the gurukul premises. The art of warfare was taught to inculcate self-discipline and a code of conduct for future royal duties. Within the school, they were not allowed to hurt one another.
To ensure that the message went home, Sunaina had also been told of this incident on one of her visits to the gurukul. Her strong words had had the desired impact on Sita. She had refrained from beating other students since then, though her resolve was tested at times.
This was one such time.
‘Aren’t you adopted?’ taunted Kaaml Raj, a fellow classmate.
Five students from the gurukul had gathered close to the pond on the campus. Three sat around Sita, who had drawn a geometric shape on the ground, using some ropes. Engrossed in explaining a theorem from the Baudhayana Shulba Sutra, she had been studiously ignoring Kaaml. As were the others. He was hovering around as usual, trying to distract everyone. Upon hearing his words, all eyes turned to Sita.
Radhika was Sita’s best friend. She immediately tried to prevent a reaction. ‘Let it be, Sita. He is a fool.’
Sita sat up straight and closed her eyes for a moment. She had often wondered about her birth mother. Why had she abandoned her? Was she as magnificent as her adoptive mother? But there was no doubt in her mind about one fact: She was Sunaina’s daughter.
‘I am my mother’s daughter,’ muttered Sita, looking defiantly at her tormentor as she pointedly ignored her friend’s advice.
‘Yes, yes, I know that. We are all our mothers’ children. But aren’t you adopted? What will happen to you when your mother has a real daughter?’
‘Real daughter? I am not unreal, Kaaml. I am very real.’
‘Yes, yes. But you are not …’
‘Just get lost,’ said Sita. She picked up the twig with which she had been explaining the Baudhayana theorem.
‘No, no. You aren’t understanding what I’m saying. If you are adopted, you can be thrown out at any time. What will you do then?’
Sita put the twig down and looked at Kaaml with cold eyes. This would have been a good moment for the boy to shut up. Regrettably, he did not have too much sense.
‘I can see that the teachers like you. Guruji likes you a lot. You can come back here and teach all day when you get thrown out of your home!’ Kaaml broke into maniacal laughter. No one else laughed. In fact, the tension in the air was crackling dangerously.
‘Sita …’ pleaded Radhika, again advising calm. ‘Let it be …’
Sita ignored Radhika’s advice yet again. She slowly got up and walked towards Kaaml. The boy swallowed hard, but he did not step back. Sita’s hands were locked tightly behind her back. She stopped within an inch of her adversary. She looked at him and glared. Straight into his eyes. Kaaml’s breath had quickened nervously, and the twitch in his temple showed that his courage was rapidly disappearing. But he stood his ground.
Sita took one more threatening step. Dangerously close to Kaaml. Her toe was now touching the boy’s. The tip of her nose was less than a centimetre from his face. Her eyes flashed fire.
Sweat beads had formed on Kaaml’s forehead. ‘Listen … you are not allowed to hit anyone …’
Sita kept her eyes locked with his. She kept staring. Unblinking. Cold. Breathing heavily.
Kaaml’s voice emerged in a squeak. ‘Listen …’
Sita suddenly screamed loudly; an ear-splitting sound right in Kaaml’s face. A forceful, strong, high-pitched bellow. A startled Kaaml fell back, flat on the ground and burst into tears.
And, the other children burst into laughter.
A teacher appeared seemingly from nowhere.
‘I didn’t hit him! I didn’t hit him!’
‘Sita …’
Sita allowed herself to be led away by the teacher. ‘But I didn’t hit him!’
‘Hanu bhaiya!’ cooed Radhika as she hugged her elder brother. Or more specifically, her elder cousin brother.
Radhika had asked Sita along to meet her favourite relative. The meeting place was around an hour’s walk from the gurukul, deep in the jungles to the south, in a well-hidden clearing. This was where the cousins met. In secret. Her brother had good reasons to remain invisible to the gurukul authorities.
He was a Naga; a person born with deformities.
He was dressed in a dark-brown dhoti with a white angvastram. Fair-skinned. Tall and hirsute. An outgrowth jutted out from his lower back, almost like a tail. It flapped with rhythmic precision, as though it had a mind of its own. His massive build and sturdy musculature gave him an awe-inspiring presence. Almost a godly aura. His flat nose was pressed against his face, which in turn was outlined with facial hair, encircling it with neat precision. Strangely though, the skin above and below his mouth was hairless, silken smooth and light pink in colour; it had a puffed appearance. His lips were a thin, barely noticeable line. Thick eyebrows drew a sharp, artistic curve above captivating eyes that radiated intelligence and a meditative calm. It almost seemed like the Almighty had taken the face of a monkey and placed it on a man’s head.
He looked at Radhika with almost paternal affection. ‘How are you, my little sister?’