He’s so awkward … and cute …
Ram smiled. ‘Umm, may I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Tell me something about your childhood.’
‘You mean, before I was adopted? You do know that I was adopted, right?’
‘Yes … I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if it troubles you.’
Sita smiled. ‘No, it doesn’t trouble me, but I don’t remember anything. I was too young when I was found by my adoptive parents.’
Ram nodded.
Will you also judge me by my birth?
Sita answered the question that she thought was on Ram’s mind. ‘So, if you ask me who my birth-parents are, the short answer is that I don’t know. But the one I prefer is that I am a daughter of the earth.’
‘Birth is completely unimportant. It is just a means of entry into this world of action, into this karmabhoomi. Karma is all that matters. And your karma is divine.’
Sita smiled. She was charmed by her husband’s ability to constantly surprise her. Positively surprise her. I can see what Maharishi Vashishtha sees in him. He is special …
Ram was about to say something when the attendant came rushing in with the salt. He added some to his food and resumed eating. The attendant retreated from the room.
‘You were saying something,’ said Sita.
‘Yes,’ said Ram, ‘I think that …’
Ram was interrupted again, this time by the doorkeeper announcing loudly, ‘The chief of the Malayaputras, the Saptrishi Uttradhikari, the protector of the way of the Vishnus, Maharishi Vishwamitra.’
Sita was surprised. Why is Guruji here?
She looked at Ram. He shrugged. He did not know what this visit was about. Ram and Sita rose as Vishwamitra entered the room, followed by Arishtanemi. Sita gestured to her attendant to get some washing bowls for Ram and herself.
‘We have a problem,’ said Vishwamitra, not feeling the need to exchange pleasantries.
Sita cursed under her breath. Raavan …
‘What happened, Guruji?’ asked Ram.
‘Raavan is mobilising for an attack.’
‘But he doesn’t have an army,’ said Ram. ‘What’s he going to do with ten thousand bodyguards? He can’t hold a city of even Mithila’s size with that number. All he’ll achieve is getting his men killed in battle.’
‘Raavan is not a logical man,’ said Vishwamitra. ‘His ego is hurt. He may lose his bodyguard corps, but he will wreak havoc on Mithila.’
Ram looked at his wife.
Sita shook her head with irritation and addressed Vishwamitra. ‘Who in Lord Rudra’s name invited that demon for the swayamvar? I know it was not my father.’
Vishwamitra took a deep breath as his eyes softened. ‘That’s water under the bridge, Sita. The question is, what are we going to do now?’
‘What is your plan, Guruji?’ asked Ram.
‘I have with me some important material that was mined at my ashram by the Ganga. I needed it to conduct a few science experiments at Agastyakootam. This was why I had visited my ashram.’
‘Science experiments?’ asked Ram.
‘Yes, experiments with the daivi astras.’
Sita drew a sharp breath. She knew the power and ferocity of the divine weapons. ‘Guruji, are you suggesting that we use daivi astras?’
Vishwamitra nodded in confirmation. Ram spoke up. ‘But that will destroy Mithila as well.’
‘No, it won’t,’ said Vishwamitra. ‘This is not a traditional daivi astra. What I have is the Asuraastra.’
‘Isn’t that a biological weapon?’ asked Ram. Deeply troubled now.
‘Yes. Poisonous gas and a blast wave from the Asuraastra will incapacitate the Lankans, paralysing them for days on end. We can easily imprison them in that state and end this problem.’
‘Just paralyse, Guruji?’ asked Ram. ‘I have learnt that in large quantities, the Asuraastra can kill as well.’
Vishwamitra knew that only one man could have possibly taught this to Ram. His best friend-turned-foe, Vashishtha. The Chief of the Malayaputras was immediately irritated. ‘Do you have any better ideas?’
Ram fell silent.
Sita looked at Ram and then at Vishwamitra. I know exactly what Guruji is trying to do.
‘But what about Lord Rudra’s law?’ asked Sita, a little aggressively.
It was well known that Lord Rudra, the previous Mahadev, had banned the unauthorised use of daivi astras many centuries ago. Those who broke the law would be punished with banishment for fourteen years, he had decreed. Breaking the law for the second time would be punishable by death.
The Vayuputras would be compelled to enforce the Mahadev’s law.
‘I don’t think that law applies to the use of the Asuraastra,’ said Vishwamitra. ‘It is not a weapon of mass destruction, just mass incapacitation.’
Sita narrowed her eyes. Clearly, she wasn’t convinced. ‘I disagree. A daivi astra is a daivi astra. We cannot use it without the authorisation of the Vayuputras, Lord Rudra’s tribe. I am a Lord Rudra devotee. I will not break his law.’
‘Do you want to surrender, then?’
‘Of course not! We will fight!’
Vishwamitra laughed derisively. ‘Fight, is it? And who, please explain, will fight Raavan’s hordes? The namby-pamby intellectuals of Mithila? What is the plan? Debate the Lankans to death?’
‘We have our police force,’ said Sita, annoyed at this disrespect shown to her force.
‘They’re not trained or equipped to fight the troops of Raavan.’
‘We are not fighting his troops. We are fighting his bodyguard platoons. My police force is enough for them.’
‘They are not. And you know that.’
‘We will not use the daivi astras, Guruji,’ said Sita firmly, her face hardening.
Ram spoke up. ‘Samichi’s police force is not alone. Lakshman and I are here, and so are the Malayaputras. We’re inside the fort, we have the double walls; we have the lake surrounding the city. We can hold Mithila. We can fight.’
Vishwamitra turned to Ram with a sneer. ‘Nonsense! We are vastly outnumbered. The double walls …’ He snorted with disgust. ‘It seems clever. But how long do you think it will take a warrior of Raavan’s calibre to figure out a strategy that works around that obstacle?’
‘We will not use the daivi astras, Guruji,’ said Sita, raising her voice. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have a battle to prepare for.’
‘Where is Samichi?’ asked Sita, surprised that the Mithila Chief of Police and Protocol was not in her office.
The sun had already set. Sita was marshalling her forces for an expected attack from Raavan. She did not think the demon king of Lanka would honour the rules of war. It was quite likely that he would attack at night. Time was of the essence.
‘My Lady,’ said an officer. ‘We don’t know where she has gone. She left immediately after your wedding ceremony.’
‘Find her. Tell her to come to the fort walls. The Bees Quarter.’
‘Yes, My Lady.’