Sita set her cup down and looked at the Malayaputra. ‘Jatayuji, I hope you will answer my question.’
Jatayu turned towards Sita and bowed his head. ‘How can I refuse, great Vishnu?’
‘What is the relationship between the Malayaputras and the Lankans?’
‘We trade with them. As does every kingdom in the Sapt Sindhu. We export a very valuable material mined in the cavern of Thamiravaruni to Lanka. And they give us what we need.’
‘I’m aware of that. But Raavan usually appoints sub-traders who are given the licence to trade with Lanka. No one else can conduct any business with him. But there is no such sub-trader in Agastyakootam. You trade directly with him. This is strange. I also know that he strictly controls the Western and Eastern Seas. And that no ship can set sail in these waters without paying him a cess. This is how he maintains a stranglehold over trade. But Malayaputra ships pay nothing and yet, pass unharmed. Why?’
‘Like I said, we sell him something very valuable, great Vishnu.’
‘Do you mean the bird’s nest material?’ asked Sita, incredulously. ‘I am sure he gets many equally valuable things from other parts of the Sapt Sindhu …’
‘This material is very, very valuable. Far more than anything he gets from the Sapt Sindhu.’
‘Then why doesn’t he just attack Agastyakootam and seize it? It’s not far from his kingdom.’
Jatayu remained silent, unsure of how much to reveal.
‘I have also heard,’ continued Sita, choosing her words carefully, ‘that, apparently, there is a shared heritage.’
‘That there may be. But every Malayaputra’s primary loyalty is to you, Lady Vishnu.’
‘I don’t doubt that. But tell me, what is this common heritage?’
Jatayu took a deep breath. He had managed to sidestep the first question, but it seemed he would be unable to avoid this one. ‘Maharishi Vishwamitra was a prince before he became a Brahmin Rishi.’
‘I know that.’
‘His father, King Gaadhi, ruled the kingdom of Kannauj. Guru Vishwamitra himself was the king there for a short span of time.’
‘Yes, so I have heard.’
‘Then he decided to renounce his throne and become a Brahmin. It wasn’t an easy decision, but nothing is beyond our great Guruji. Not only did he become a Brahmin, he also acquired the title of Maharishi. And, he scaled great heights to reach the peak by ultimately becoming the chief of the Malayaputras.’
Sita nodded. ‘Nothing is beyond Guru Vishwamitra. He is one of the all-time greats.’
‘True,’ said Jatayu. Hesitantly, he continued. ‘So, Guru Vishwamitra’s roots are in Kannauj.’
‘But what does that have to do with Raavan?’
Jatayu sighed. ‘Most people don’t know this. It is a well-kept secret, my sister. But Raavan is also from Kannauj. His family comes from there.’
Chapter 16
At twenty years of age, Sita may have had the energy and drive of a youngster, but her travels through much of India and the training she had received at Agastyakootam, had given her wisdom far beyond her years.
Samichi was initially intrigued by Sita’s repeated trips around the country. She was told that they were for trade and diplomatic purposes. And, she believed it. Or, pretended to. As she practically governed Mithila with a free hand in the absence of the princess. But Sita was now back in Mithila and the reins of administration were back in the hands of the prime minister.
Radhika was on one of her frequent visits to Mithila.
‘How are you doing, Samichi?’ asked Radhika.
Sita, Radhika and Samichi were in the private chambers of the prime minister of Mithila.
‘Doing very well!’ smiled Samichi. ‘Thank you for asking.’
‘I love what you have done with the slums at the southern gate. A cesspool has transformed into a well-organised, permanent construction.’
‘It would not have been possible without the guidance of the prime minister,’ said Samichi with genuine humility. ‘The idea and vision were hers. I just implemented it.’
‘Not prime minister. Sita.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I have told you many times,’ said Sita, ‘when we are alone, you can call me by my name.’
Samichi looked at Radhika and then at Sita.
Sita rolled her eyes. ‘Radhika is a friend, Samichi!’
Samichi smiled. ‘Sorry. No offence meant.’
‘None taken, Samichi!’ said Radhika. ‘You are my friend’s right hand. How can I take offence at something you say?’
Samichi rose to her feet. ‘If you will excuse me, Sita, I must go to the inner city. There is a gathering of the nobles that I need to attend.’
‘I have heard,’ said Sita, gesturing for Samichi to wait, ‘that the rich are not too happy.’
‘Yes,’ said Samichi. ‘They are richer than they used to be, since Mithila is doing well now. But the poor have improved their lot in life at a faster pace. It is no longer easy for the rich to find cheap labour or domestic help. But it’s not just the rich who are unhappy. Ironically, even the poor aren’t as happy as they used to be, before their lives improved. They complain even more now. They want to get richer, more quickly. With greater expectations, they have discovered higher dissatisfaction.’
‘Change causes disruption …’ Sita said, thoughtfully.
‘Yes.’
‘Keep me informed of the early signs of any trouble.’
‘Yes, Sita,’ said Samichi, before saluting and walking out of the room.
As soon as they were alone, Sita asked Radhika, ‘And what else has been happening with the other Vishnu candidates?’
‘Ram is progressing very well. Bharat is a little headstrong. It’s still a toss-up!’
It was late in the evening at the gurukul of Maharishi Kashyap. Five friends, all of them eight years old, were playing a game with each other. A game suitable for the brilliant students who populated this great centre of learning. An intellectual game.
One of the students was asking questions and the others had to answer. The questioner had a stone in his hand. He tapped it on the ground once. Then he paused. Then he tapped once again. Pause. Then two times, quickly. Pause. Three times. Pause. Five times. Pause. Eight times. Pause. He looked at his friends and asked, ‘Who am I?’
His friends looked at each other, confused.
A seven-year-old boy stepped up gingerly from the back. He was dressed in rags and clearly looked out of place. ‘I think the stone taps represented 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, right? That’s the Pingala Series. Therefore, I am Rishi Pingala.’
The friends looked at the boy. He was an orphan who lived in the minuscule guard cabin of the local Mother Goddess temple. The boy was weak, suffering from malnutrition and poor health. But he was brilliant. A gurukul student named Vishwamitra had managed to convince the principal to enrol this poor orphan in the school. Vishwamitra had leveraged the power of the massive endowment that his father, the King of Kannauj, had given to the gurukul, to get this done.