‘Lord Rudra be merciful,’ whispered Janak.
‘There’s more. Queen Kaushalya, the eldest wife of the Emperor, gave birth to a son on the day that he lost the Battle of Karachapa. And now, many are blaming the little boy for the defeat. Saying that he’s an ill omen. For the Emperor had never lost a battle till this boy was born.’
‘What nonsense!’ said Janak. ‘How can people be so stupid?’
‘The little boy’s name is Ram. Named after the sixth Vishnu, Lord Parshu Ram.’
‘Let’s hope it’s lucky for him. Poor child.’
‘I am more concerned about the fate of Mithila, Janak.’
Janak sighed helplessly. ‘What do you think will happen?’
Sunaina had been governing the kingdom practically singlehandedly, of late. Janak was spending more and more time lost in the world of philosophy. The queen had become increasingly popular in the kingdom. Many believed that she had been lucky for Mithila. For the rains had poured down in all their glory every year since she had come to the city as King Janak’s wife.
‘I am worried about security,’ said Sunaina.
‘And what about money?’ asked Janak. ‘Don’t you think Raavan will enforce his trade demands on all the kingdoms? Money will flow out of the Sapt Sindhu into Lanka’s coffers.’
‘But we hardly trade these days. He cannot demand anything from us. The other kingdoms have a lot more to lose. I am more worried about the decimation of the armies of the Sapt Sindhu. Lawlessness will increase everywhere. How safe can we be if the entire land falls into chaos?’
‘True.’
A thought crossed Janak’s mind. Who can prevent that which is written by Fate, be it of people or of countries? Our task is but to understand, not fight, what must be; and learn the lessons for our next life. Or prepare for moksha.
But he knew Sunaina disliked ‘helplessness’. So he remained silent.
The queen continued, ‘I did not expect Raavan to win.’
Janak laughed. ‘It’s all very well to be a victor. But the vanquished get more love from their women!’
Sunaina narrowed her eyes and stared at Janak. Not impressed by her husband’s attempt at wit. ‘We must make some plans, Janak. We must be ready for the inevitable.’
Janak was tempted to respond with another humorous remark. Wisdom dictated restraint.
‘I trust you completely. You’ll think of something, I’m sure,’ smiled Janak, as he turned his attention back to the Jabali Upanishad.
Chapter 3
While the rest of India was suffering the aftershocks of Dashrath’s defeat to Raavan, Mithila itself was relatively unaffected. There was not much trade in any case to be negatively impacted. Sunaina had initiated some reforms that had worked well. For instance, local tax collection and administration had been devolved to the village level. It reduced the strain on the Mithila bureaucracy and improved efficiency.
Using the increased revenue from agriculture, she had retrained the excess bureaucracy and expanded the Mithila police force, thus improving security within the kingdom. Mithila had no standing army and did not need one; by treaty, the Sankashya Army of Kushadhwaj was supposed to fight the external enemies of Mithila, when necessary. These were not major changes and were implemented relatively smoothly, without disturbing the daily life of the Mithilans. There were mass disturbances in the other kingdoms though, which required gut-wrenching changes to comply with the treaties imposed by Raavan.
Sita’s birthday had been established as a day of celebration by royal decree. They didn’t know her actual date of birth. So they celebrated the day she had been found in the furrow. Today was her sixth birthday.
Gifts and alms were distributed to the poor in the city. Like it was done on every special day. With a difference. Until Sunaina had come and toned up the administration, much of the charity was grabbed by labourers who were not rich, but who were not exactly poor either. Sunaina’s administrative reforms had ensured that the charity first went to those who were truly poor and needy; those who lived in the slums close to the southern gate of the inner, secondary fort wall.
After the public ceremonies, the royal couple had arrived at the massive temple of Lord Rudra.
The Lord Rudra temple was built of red sandstone. It was one of the tallest structures in Mithila, visible from most parts of the city. It had a massive garden around it — an area of peace in this crowded quarter of the city. Beyond the garden were the slums, spreading all the way to the fort walls. Inside the main garba griha, the sanctum sanctorum of the temple, a large idol of Lord Rudra and Lady Mohini had been consecrated. Seemingly in consonance with a city that had come to symbolise the love of knowledge, peace, and philosophy, the image of Lord Rudra was not in his normally fierce form. In this form, he looked kind, almost gentle. He held the hand of the beauteous Lady Mohini, who sat next to him.
After the prayers, the temple priest offered prasad to the royal family. Sunaina touched the priest’s feet and then led Sita by the hand to a wall by the side of the garba griha. On the wall, a plaque had been put up in memory of the vulture that had valiantly died defending Sita from a pack of wolves. A death mask of its face had been made before the bird was cremated with honour. Cast in metal, the mask recorded the last expression of the vulture as it left its mortal body. It was a haunting look: determined and noble. Sita had made her mother relate the entire story on several occasions. Sunaina had been happy to oblige. She wanted her daughter to remember. To know that nobility came in many a form and face. Sita touched the death mask gently, reverentially. And as always, she shed a tear for the one who had also given her the gift of life.
‘Thank you,’ whispered Sita. She said a short prayer to the great God Pashupati, Lord of the Animals. She hoped the vulture’s brave soul had found purpose again.
Janak discreetly signalled his wife, and the royal family slowly walked out of the Lord Rudra temple. The priests led the family down the flight of steps. The slums were clearly visible from the platform height.
‘Why don’t you ever let me go there, Maa?’ asked Sita, pointing at the slums.
Sunaina smiled and patted her daughter’s head. ‘Soon.’
‘You always say that,’ Sita protested, a grumpy expression on her face.
‘And, I mean it,’ laughed Sunaina. ‘Soon. I just didn’t say how soon!’
‘Alright,’ said Janak, ruffling Sita’s hair. ‘Run along now. I have to speak with Guruji.’