The girls knew better than to talk. They, too, could sense danger. Something was seriously wrong.
Hanuman suddenly made a loud, screeching sound; like that of an agitated monkey. The tiger hidden behind the tree immediately knew that its element of surprise was gone. It walked out slowly. Hanuman reached for the scabbard tied to his cummerbund and drew out his curved knife. Made in the style of the khukuris of the fierce Gorkhas, the blade of the knife was not straight. It thickened at mid-length, and then the thick section curved downwards. Like a sloping shoulder. At the hilt-end, the sharp side of the blade had a double-wave notch. Shaped like a cow’s foot. It served a practical purpose. It allowed the blood from the blade to drip to the ground, instead of spreading to the hilt and making the knife-hold slippery. The cow’s foot indentation also signified that the weapon could never be used to kill a holy cow. The handle was made of ivory. At the halfway mark, a protrusion emerged from all sides of the hilt. It served as a peg between the middle finger and the ring finger, making the grip secure. The khukuri had no cross-guard for a thrusting action. A less-skilled warrior’s hand could slip forward onto the blade, in a thrust. It could cause serious injury to the knife-wielder.
But nobody in their right mind would call Hanuman less than supremely skilled.
‘Stay behind me,’ whispered Hanuman to the girls, as the tiger edged forward slowly.
Hanuman spread his legs apart and bent, maintaining his balance. Waiting. For what was to follow. Keeping his breathing steady.
With an ear-splitting roar, the tiger suddenly burst forward, going up on its hind legs, spreading its front legs out. Ready to hold the massive Hanuman in its grip. Its jaws opened wide, it headed straight for Hanuman’s throat.
The tiger’s tactic was sound: topple the human with its massive weight, pin him to the ground with its claws, and rely on its jaws to finish the job.
Against a lesser enemy, it would have prevailed. But, to its misfortune, it had attacked the mighty Hanuman.
The giant Naga was almost as big as the tiger. With one foot back, he arched his spine, flexed his powerful muscles; and, remained on his feet. Using his left hand, he held the tiger by its throat, and kept its fearsome jaws away. Hanuman allowed the tiger to claw his back. It would not cause much damage. He pulled his right hand back, flexed his shoulder muscles and brutally thrust the khukuri deep into the tiger’s abdomen. Its outrageously sharp-edged blade sliced in smoothly. The beast roared in pain. Its eyes wide in shock.
Hanuman sucked in his breath and executed a draw-cut to the right, ripping deep into the beast’s abdominal cavity. All the way from one end to the other. Vicious, but effective. Not only did most of the beast’s abdominal organs get slashed, the knife even sliced through a bit of the backbone and the nerves protected inside.
The tiger’s slippery intestines slid out of its cleaved abdomen, its hind legs locked in paralysis. Hanuman pushed the beast back. It fell to the ground, roaring in agony as its front legs lashed out in all directions.
Hanuman could have avoided further injury from its claws had he waited for the tiger to weaken. And let its front legs go down. But the animal was in agony. He wanted to end its suffering. Hanuman bent closer even as the tiger’s claws dug deep into his shoulders. The Naga stabbed straight into the animal’s chest. The blade cut right through, sliding deep into the beast’s heart. It struggled for a few moments and then its soul escaped its body.
Hanuman pulled the blade out and whispered softly, ‘May your soul find purpose once again, noble beast.’
‘These things happen, Radhika,’ said Hanuman. ‘We’re in the middle of a jungle. What do you expect?’
Radhika was still shaking with fear.
Sita had quickly pulled out the medical aid kit from the saddlebag and dressed Hanuman’s injuries. They were not life-threatening but a few of them were deep. Sita stitched a couple of gaping wounds. She found some rejuvenating herbs around the clearing and made an infusion, using stones to grind the leaves with some water. She gave it to Hanuman to drink.
As Hanuman gulped the medicine down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he watched Sita.
She is not nervous … She didn’t get scared … This girl is special …
‘I would not have imagined that a tiger could be brought down with such ease,’ whispered Sita.
‘It helps if you’re my size!’ laughed Hanuman.
‘Are you sure that you can ride? Your wounds aren’t serious, but …’
‘I can’t stay here either. I have to get back …’
‘Another of your mysterious missions?’
‘I have to go.’
‘You have to do what you have to do, Hanu bhaiya.’
Hanuman smiled. ‘Don’t forget your Rudraaksh.’
Sita reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a silk pouch. She opened it slowly, carefully picking up the ekmukhi Rudraaksh. She stared at it in awe. Then she held it to her forehead with reverence before slipping it into the pouch tied to her waist.
Chapter 8
Shvetaketu could not believe his luck. The great Vishwamitra had arrived at his gurukul for the second time this year! He rushed to the gates of the ashram as the Malayaputras marched in.
‘Namaste, Great One,’ said Shvetaketu, smiling broadly, his hands joined together in respect.
‘Namaste, Shvetaketu,’ said Vishwamitra, smiling just enough to not intimidate his host.
‘What an honour to have you call on our gurukul so soon after your last visit.’
‘Yes,’ said Vishwamitra, looking around.
‘It is unfortunate that my students are not here to gain from your presence,’ said Shvetaketu, his expression reflecting heartfelt regret. ‘Most of them are away on vacation.’
‘But I believe a few have stayed back.’
‘Yes, Illustrious One. Sita is here … And …’
‘I would like to meet Sita.’
‘Of course.’
Sita stood with Maharishi Vishwamitra near the balustrade at the edge of the main deck of his anchored ship, facing the far bank of the Ganga. Vishwamitra had wanted privacy, away from the curious eyes of the teachers in the gurukul. A small brick-laid yagna kund was being readied by the Malayaputra pandits on the main deck of the ship, a little distance away from Sita and Vishwamitra.
Sita was confused. Why does the Maharishi want to speak to me?
‘How old are you now, Sita?’
‘I will turn fourteen soon, Guruji.’
‘That’s not too old. We can begin, I think.’
‘Begin what, Guruji?’
Vishwamitra took a deep breath. ‘Have you heard of the institution of the Vishnu?’
‘Yes, Guruji.’
‘Tell me what you know.’
‘It is a title given to the greatest of leaders, who are Propagators of Good. They lead their people into a new way of life. There have been six Vishnus in this present Vedic age that we live in. The previous Vishnu was the great Lord Parshu Ram.’
‘Jai Parshu Ram.’
‘Jai Parshu Ram.’