‘How did Mithila come into the possession of the Pinaka?’ asked Ram, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful weapon.
‘It’s a long story,’ said Sita. She knew she couldn’t give him the real reason. Not yet, at least. ‘But I want you to practise with it. This is the bow which will be used for the swayamvar competition tomorrow.’
Ram took an involuntary step back. There were many ways in which a swayamvar was conducted. Sometimes the bride directly selected her groom. Or, she mandated a competition. The winner married the bride. However, it was unorthodox for a groom to be given advance information and help. In fact, it was against the rules.
Ram shook his head. ‘It would be an honour to even touch the Pinaka, much less hold the bow that Lord Rudra himself graced with his touch. But I will only do so tomorrow. Not today.’
Sita frowned. What? Doesn’t he want to marry me?
‘I thought you intended to win my hand,’ said Sita.
‘I do. But I will win it the right way. I will win according to the rules.’
Sita smiled, shaking her head. This man is truly special. Either he will go down in history as someone who was exploited by all. Or, he will be remembered as one of the greatest ever.
Sita was happy that she had chosen to marry Ram. In a tiny corner of her heart, though, she was worried. For she knew that this man would suffer. The world would make him suffer. And from what she knew about his life, he had suffered a lot already.
‘Do you disagree?’ asked Ram, seeming disappointed.
‘No, I don’t. I’m just impressed. You are a special man, Prince Ram.’
Ram blushed.
He’s blushing again …!
‘I look forward to seeing you fire an arrow tomorrow morning,’ said Sita, smiling.
‘He refused help? Really?’ asked Jatayu, surprised.
Jatayu and Sita had met in the patch of the jungle that was now their regular meeting place. It lay towards the north of the city, as far away as possible from Raavan’s temporary camp.
‘Yes,’ answered Sita.
Jatayu smiled and shook his head. ‘He is no ordinary man.’
‘No, he isn’t. But I’m not sure whether the Malayaputras agree.’
Jatayu instinctively cast a glance around the woods, as if expecting to be heard by the formidable chief of the Malayaputras. He knew Vishwamitra did not like Ram. The Prince of Ayodhya was just a tool for the Maharishi; a means to an end.
‘It’s all right. The words will not carry to …’ Sita left the name unsaid. ‘So, what do you think of Ram?’
‘He is special in many ways, my sister,’ whispered Jatayu, carefully. ‘Perhaps, just what our country needs … His obsession with rules and honesty, his almighty love for this great land, his high expectations from everyone, including himself …’
Sita finally asked him the question that had been weighing on her mind. ‘Is there anything I should know about the Malayaputras’ plans regarding Ram tomorrow? At the swayamvar?’
Jatayu remained silent. He looked distinctly nervous.
‘You have called me your sister, Jatayuji. And this is regarding my future husband. I deserve to know.’
Jatayu looked down. Struggling between his loyalty to the Malayaputras and his devotion to Sita.
‘Please, Jatayuji. I need to know.’
Jatayu straightened his back and let out a sigh. ‘You do know about the attack on a motley bunch of Asuras close to our Ganga ashram, right?’
Vishwamitra had gone to Ayodhya and asked for Ram and Lakshman’s help in resolving a ‘serious’ military problem that he was facing. He had taken them to his ashram close to the Ganga River. He had then asked them to lead a contingent of his Malayaputra soldiers in an assault on a small tribe of Asuras, who were apparently, attacking his ashram repeatedly. It was only after the ‘Asura problem’ had been handled that they had left for Mithila, for Sita’s swayamvar.
‘Yes,’ said Sita. ‘Was Ram’s life in danger?’
Jatayu shook his head dismissively. ‘It was a pathetic tribe of a handful of people. They were imbeciles. Incapable warriors. Ram’s life was never in danger.’
Sita frowned, confused. ‘I don’t understand …’
‘The idea wasn’t to get rid of Ram. It was to destroy his reputation with his most powerful supporters.’
Sita’s eyes widened as she finally unravelled the conspiracy.
‘The Malayaputras do not want him dead. They want him out of the reckoning as a potential Vishnu; and, under their control.’
‘Are the Malayaputras intending to ally with Raavan?’
Jatayu was shocked. ‘How can you even ask that, great Vishnu? They will never ally with Raavan. In fact, they will destroy him. But only when the time is right. Remember, the Malayaputras are loyal to one cause alone: the restoration of India’s greatness. Nothing else matters. Raavan is just a tool for them.’
‘As is Ram. As am I.’
‘No. No … How can you even think that the Malayaputras would use you as a …’
Sita looked at Jatayu, silently. Perhaps Samichi is right. There are forces far beyond my control. And Ram is …
Jatayu interrupted Sita’s thoughts and unwittingly gave her a clue as to what she should do. ‘Remember, great Vishnu. You are too crucial to the Malayaputras’ plans. They cannot allow anything to happen to you. No harm can come to you.’
Sita smiled. Jatayu had given her the answer. She knew what she must do.
Chapter 21
‘Do I know all there is to know about the Malayaputras’ plans for the swayamvar, Arishtanemiji?’ asked Sita.
Arishtanemi was surprised by the question.
‘I don’t understand, Sita,’ he said, carefully.
‘How did Raavan get an invitation?’
‘We are as clueless as you, Sita. You know that. We suspect it to be the handiwork of your uncle. But there is no proof.’
Sita looked sceptical. ‘Right … No proof.’
Arishtanemi took a deep breath. ‘Why don’t you say what is on your mind, Sita …’
Sita leaned forward, looked directly into Arishtanemi’s eyes, and said, ‘I know that Raavan’s family has its roots in Kannauj.’
Arishtanemi winced. But recovered quickly. He shook his head, an injured expression on his face. ‘In the name of the great Lord Parshu Ram, Sita. How can you think such thoughts?’
Sita was impassive.
‘You think Guru Vishwamitra has any other identity now, besides being the chief of the Malayaputras? Seriously?’
Arishtanemi looked a little agitated. It was uncharacteristic of him. Sita knew she had hit a nerve. She could not have had a conversation like this with Vishwamitra. She needed to press home the advantage. Arishtanemi was one of the rare few who could convince Vishwamitra. She unnerved him further by choosing silence. For now.
‘We can destroy Raavan at any time,’ said Arishtanemi. ‘We keep him alive because we plan to use his death to help you. To help you be recognised, by all Indians, as the Vishnu.’
‘I believe you.’
Now, Arishtanemi fell silent. Confused.
‘And I also know that you have plans for Ram.’