Vishwamitra glared right back, unrepentant.
A loud sound disturbed them all. They looked beyond the walls of Mithila. Raavan’s Pushpak Vimaan was sputtering to life. Its giant rotor blades had begun to spin. The sound it made was like that of a giant monster cutting the air with his enormous sword. Within moments the rotors picked up speed and the conical flying vehicle rose from the earth. It hovered just a few feet above the ground; pushing against inertia, against the earth’s immense pull of gravity. Then, with a great burst of sound and energy, it soared into the sky. Away from Mithila. And the devastation of the Asuraastra.
Raavan had survived. Raavan had escaped.
The following day, a makeshift Ayuralay was set up outside the city. The Lankan soldiers were housed in large tents. The Malayaputras trained the Mithilan doctors to tend to those who had been rendered comatose by the lethal weapon. To keep them alive till they naturally emerged from the coma; a few days or maybe even a few weeks later. Some would never surface and pass away in their sleep.
Sita sat in her office, contemplating Mithila’s governance after her impending departure to Ayodhya. There was too much to take care of and the conversation with Samichi was not helping.
The police and protocol chief stood before her, shaking like a leaf. Sita had never seen her friend so nervous. She was clearly petrified.
‘Don’t worry, Samichi. I’ll save Ram. Nothing will happen to him. He won’t be punished.’
Samichi shook her head. Something else was on her mind. She spoke in a quivering voice. ‘Lord Raavan survived … the Lankans … will come back … Mithila, you, I … we’re finished …’
‘Don’t be silly. Nothing will happen. The Lankans have been taught a lesson they will not forget in a hurry …’
‘They will remember … They always remember … Ayodhya … Karachapa … Chilika …’
Sita held Samichi by her shoulders and said loudly, ‘Pull yourself together. What’s the matter with you? Nothing will happen!’
Samichi fell silent. She held her hands together in supplication. Praying. She knew what she had to do. She would appeal for mercy. To the True Lord.
Sita stared at Samichi and shook her head. Disappointed. She had decided to leave Samichi in charge of Mithila, under the titular rule of her father, Janak. Ensuring that there would be continuity in leadership. But now, she began to wonder whether Samichi was ready for additional responsibilities. She had never seen her friend so rattled before.
‘Arishtanemiji, please don’t make me do this,’ pleaded Kushadhwaj.
Arishtanemi was in the section of the Mithila Palace allotted to Kushadhwaj, the king of Sankashya.
‘You will have to,’ said Arishtanemi, dangerously soft. The steel in his voice unmistakable. ‘We know exactly what happened. How Raavan came here …’
Kushadhwaj swallowed nervously.
‘Mithila is precious to all who love wisdom,’ said Arishtanemi. ‘We will not allow it to be destroyed. You will have to pay for what you did.’
‘But if I sign this proclamation, Raavan’s assassins will target me …’
‘And if you don’t, we will target you,’ said Arishtanemi, stepping uncomfortably close, menace dripping from his eyes. ‘Trust me, we will make it far more painful.’
‘Arishtanemiji …’
‘Enough.’ Arishtanemi grabbed the royal Sankashya seal and pressed it on the proclamation sheet, leaving its imprint. ‘It’s done …’
Kushadhwaj sagged on his seat, sweating profusely.
‘It will be issued in the name of King Janak and you, Your Majesty,’ said Arishtanemi, as he bowed his head in mock servility.
Then he turned and walked out.
King Janak and his brother, King Kushadhwaj, had authorised the imprisonment of the Lankan prisoners of war left behind by Raavan. Vishwamitra and his Malayaputras had promised that they would take the Lankan prisoners with them when they left for Agastyakootam. The sage intended to negotiate with Raavan on Mithila’s behalf, guaranteeing the kingdom’s safety in return for the release of the prisoners of war.
This news had been greeted with relief by the Mithilans, and not the least, Samichi. They were petrified of the demon king of Lanka, Raavan. But now, the people felt more at ease knowing that the Malayaputras would ensure that the Lankans backed off.
‘We’re leaving tomorrow, Sita,’ said Arishtanemi.
The military chief of the Malayaputras had come to Sita’s chamber to speak with her in private. Sita had refused to meet Vishwamitra since the day Ram had fired the daivi astra.
Sita folded her hands together into a respectful Namaste and bowed her head. ‘May Lord Parshu Ram and Lord Rudra bless you with a safe journey.’
‘Sita, I am sure you are aware that the time to make the announcement draws close …’
Arishtanemi was referring to the declaration that would publicly announce Sita’s status as the Vishnu. Once it was made, not just the Malayaputras, but the whole of India would recognise her as the saviour who would lead the people of this land to a new way of life.
‘It cannot happen now.’
Arishtanemi tried to control his frustration. ‘Sita, you can’t be so stubborn. We had to do what we did.’
‘You could have fired the Asuraastra, Arishtanemiji. In fact, Guruji could have fired it as well. The Vayuputras would have understood. They would have even seen it as a Malayaputra effort to protect themselves. But you set Ram up …’
‘He volunteered, Sita.’
‘R-i-g-h-t …’ said Sita, sarcastically. She had already heard from Lakshman how Vishwamitra had emotionally blackmailed Ram into firing the divine weapon, exhorting him to protect his wife’s city.
‘Sita, have you forgotten what state Mithila was in? You are not appreciating the fact that we saved your city. You are not even appreciating the fact that Guru Vishwamitra will handle the crisis with Raavan, ensuring that you do not face any retaliation after what happened here. Seriously, what more do you expect?’
‘I would have expected you to behave with …’
Arishtanemi interrupted Sita, guessing what she would have said. ‘Honour? Behave with honour? Don’t be childish, Sita. What I have always liked about you is the fact that you are practical. You are not taken by silly theoretical ideas. You know you can do a lot for India. You must agree to make the announcement of your Vishnuhood …’
Sita raised an eyebrow. ‘I wasn’t talking about honour. I was talking about wisdom.’
‘Sita …’ growled Arishtanemi, clenching his fists. He took a deep breath to control himself. ‘Wisdom dictated that we not fire the Asuraastra. There are … We have enough problems with the Vayuputras already. This would have further complicated our relationship. It had to be Ram.’
‘Right,’ said Sita. ‘It had to be Ram …’