The boys turned away from the orphan, even though his answer was correct.
‘We’re not interested in what you say, Vashishtha,’ sneered the boy who had asked the question. ‘Why don’t you go and clean the guard’s cabin?’
As the boys burst out laughing, Vashishtha’s body shrank in shame. But he stood his ground. Refusing to leave.
The questioner turned to his friends again and tapped the earth once. Then drew a circle around the spot he had tapped. Then he drew the circle’s diameter. Then, outside the circle, he tapped sharply once. Then, he placed the stone flat on the ground. Pause. Then he tapped the stone sharply again. Quickly. Eight times. ‘Who am I?’
Vashishtha immediately blurted out, ‘I know! You tapped the ground and drew a circle. That’s Mother Earth. Then you drew the diameter. Then you tapped 1-0-8 outside. What is 108 times the diameter of the Earth? The diameter of the Sun. I am the Sun God!’
The friends did not even turn to look at Vashishtha. Nobody acknowledged his answer.
But Vashishtha refused to be denied. ‘It’s from the Surya Siddhanta … It’s the correct answer …’
The questioner turned to face him in anger. ‘Get lost, Vashishtha!’
A loud voice was heard. ‘Hey!’
It was Vishwamitra. He may have been only eight years old, but he was already huge. Powerful enough to scare the five boys.
‘Kaushik …’ said the boy questioner nervously, using the gurukul name for Vishwamitra, ‘this has nothing to do with you …’
Vishwamitra walked up to Vashishtha and held his hand. Then, he turned to the five boys. Glaring. ‘He is a student of the gurukul now. You will call him by his gurukul name. With respect.’
The questioner swallowed. Shaking in fear.
‘His gurukul name is Divodas,’ said Vishwamitra, holding Vashishtha’s hand tighter. Divodas was the name of a great ancient king. It was Vishwamitra who had selected this gurukul name for Vashishtha and then convinced the principal to make it official. ‘Say it.’
The five friends remained paralysed.
Vishwamitra stepped closer, menace oozing from every pore of his body. He had already built a reputation with his fierce temper. ‘Say my friend’s gurukul name. Say it. Divodas.’
The questioner sputtered, as he whispered, ‘Divo … das.’
‘Louder. With respect. Divodas.’
All five boys spoke together, ‘Divodas.’
Vishwamitra pulled Vashishtha towards himself. ‘Divodas is my friend. You mess with him, you mess with me.’
‘Guruji!’
Vashishtha was pulled back from the ancient, more than a hundred-and-forty-year-old memory. He quickly wiped his eyes. Tears are meant to be hidden.
He turned to look at Shatrughan, who was holding up a manuscript of the Surya Siddhanta.
Of all the books in the entire world … What are the odds?
Vashishtha would have smiled at the irony. But he knew it was going to be a long discussion. The youngest prince of Ayodhya was by far the most intelligent of the four brothers. So, he looked with a serious expression at Shatrughan and said, ‘Yes, my child. What is your question?’
Sita and Radhika were meeting after a two-year gap.
Over this time, Sita had travelled through the western parts of India, all the way to Gandhar, at the base of the Hindukush mountains. While India’s cultural footprints could be found beyond these mountains, it was believed that the Hindukush, peopled by the Hindushahi Pashtuns and the brave Baloch, defined the western borders of India. Beyond that was the land of the Mlechchas, the foreigners.
‘What did you think of the lands of Anu?’ asked Radhika.
Kekaya, ruled by Ashwapati, headed the kingdoms of the Anunnaki, descendants of the ancient warrior-king, Anu. Many of the kingdoms around Kekaya, bound by Anunnaki clan ties, pledged fealty to Ashwapati. And Ashwapati, in turn, was loyal to Dashrath. Or, at least so it was publicly believed. After all, Ashwapati’s daughter, Kaikeyi, was Dashrath’s favourite wife.
‘Aggressive people,’ said Sita. ‘The Anunnaki don’t do anything by half measures. Their fire, put to good use, can help the great land of India achieve new heights. But, when uncontrolled, it can also lead to chaos.’
‘Agreed,’ said Radhika. ‘Isn’t Rajagriha beautiful?’
Rajagriha, the capital of Kekaya, was on the banks of the river Jhelum, not far from where the Chenab River merged into it. Rajagriha extended on both sides of the river. The massive and ethereally beautiful palace of its king was on the eastern bank of the Jhelum.
‘It is, indeed,’ said Sita. ‘They are talented builders.’
‘And, fierce warriors. Quite mad, too!’ Radhika giggled.
Sita laughed loudly. ‘True … There is a thin dividing line between fierceness and insanity!’
Sita noted that Radhika seemed happier than usual. ‘Tell me about the princes of Ayodhya.’
‘Ram is doing well. My father is quite certain that Guru Vashishtha will choose him.’
‘And Bharat?’
Radhika blushed slightly. And, Sita’s suspicions were confirmed.
‘He’s growing up well too,’ whispered Radhika, a dreamy look on her face.
‘That well?’ joked Sita.
Her crimson face a giveaway, Radhika slapped her friend on her wrists. ‘Shut up!’
Sita laughed in delight. ‘By the great Lady Mohini, Radhika is in love!’
Radhika glared at Sita, but did not refute her friend.
‘But what about the law …’
Radhika’s tribe was matrilineal. Women were strictly forbidden from marrying outside the tribe. Men could marry outside their tribe on condition that they would be excommunicated.
Radhika waved her hand in dismissal. ‘All that is in the future. Right now, let me enjoy the company of Bharat, one of the most romantic and passionate young men that nature has ever produced.’
Sita smiled, then changed the subject. ‘What about Ram?’
‘Very stoic. Very, very serious.’
‘Serious, is it?’
‘Yes. Serious and purposeful. Relentlessly purposeful. Almost all the time. He has a strong sense of commitment and honour. Hard on others and on himself. Fiercely patriotic. In love with every corner of India. Law-abiding. Always! And not one romantic bone in his body. I am not sure he will make a good husband.’
Sita leaned back in her couch and rested her arms on the cushions. She narrowed her eyes and whispered to herself. But he will probably make a good Vishnu.
A year had lapsed since the friends had last met. Her work having kept her busy, Sita had not travelled out of Mithila. She was delighted, therefore, when Radhika returned, unannounced.
Sita embraced her warmly. But pulled back as she noticed her friend’s eyes.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ said Radhika, shaking her head. Withdrawn.
Sita immediately guessed what must have happened. She held her friend’s hands. ‘Did he leave you?’
Radhika frowned and shook her head. ‘Of course not. You don’t know Bharat. He is an honourable man. In fact, he begged me not to leave him.’