‘I’ll wait,’ Sita had said.
The last few days had been action-packed. It had almost been decided by Dashrath that he would abdicate and install Ram as king. Ram and Sita had decided that if that happened, Ram would abdicate in turn and banish himself, leaving Bharat to take over. Ideally, though, he didn’t want to do that, as it would be a public repudiation of his father’s orders. But it had not come to that.
On the day before the court ceremony to announce Emperor Dashrath’s abdication, some dramatic developments had taken place. Queen Kaikeyi had lodged herself in the kopa bhavan, the house of anger. This was an institutionalised chamber created in royal palaces many centuries ago, once polygamy had become a common practice among the royalty. Having multiple wives, a king was naturally unable to spend enough time with all of them. A kopa bhavan was the assigned chamber a wife would go to if angry or upset with her husband. This would be a signal for the king that the queen needed redressal for a complaint. It was believed to be inauspicious for a husband to allow his wife to stay overnight in the kopa bhavan.
Dashrath had had no choice but to visit his aggrieved spouse. No one knew what had happened in the chamber, but the next day, Dashrath’s announcement had been very different from what the rumours had suggested. Ram had been banished from the Sapt Sindhu for a period of fourteen years. Bharat had been named the crown prince in Ram’s stead. Ram had publicly accepted the banishment with grace and humility, praising the wisdom of his father’s decision. Sita and Ram were to leave for the jungle within a day.
Sita had little time left. She needed to tie up all the loops to ensure their security in the forest.
Vashishtha had not met Sita at all, since their arrival. Was the Raj Guru of Ayodhya avoiding her? Or had an opportunity not presented itself thus far? Anyway, she wanted to speak to him before she left.
She looked up as she saw a man emerge from Vashishtha’s office. He was a tall, unusually fair-skinned man. He wore a white dhoti and an angvastram. But one could tell by the deliberate way he walked that he was distinctly uncomfortable in the dhoti. Perhaps, it wasn’t his normal attire. His most distinguishing features were his hooked nose, beaded full beard and drooping moustache. His wizened face and large limpid eyes were an image of wisdom and calm.
He’s a Parihan. Probably a Vayuputra.
The Parihan walked towards the main door, not noticing Sita and her maids in the sitting area.
‘My Lady,’ a guard came up to Sita, his head bowed in respect. ‘My sincere apologies for the delay.’
Sita smiled. ‘No, no. You were only doing your job. As you should.’
She stood up. Guided by the guard, she walked into Vashishtha’s office.
‘It must be done outside the boundaries of the Sapt Sindhu,’ said Druhyu.
He was in a small clearing in the forest, having ridden east from the boundaries of the Grand Canal for around three hours. He waited for a response. There was none.
The assassin was seated in the distance, hidden by dark shadows. His angvastram was pulled close around his face and torso. He was sharpening his knife on a smooth stone.
Druhyu hated this part of his job. He had done it a few times, but there was something about Mara that spooked him.
‘The Emperor has announced the banishment of Prince Ram. His wife and he will be leaving tomorrow. You will have to track them till they are out of the empire.’
Mara did not respond. He kept sharpening his knife.
Druhyu held his breath in irritation. How sharp does he need that damned knife to be!
He placed one large bag of gold coins on the tree stump near him. Then he reached into his pouch and took out a hundi. It was stamped with a secret seal recognised only by one specific moneylender in Takshasheela, a city far in the northwestern corners of India.
‘One thousand gold coins in cash,’ said Druhyu, ‘and a hundi for fifty thousand gold coins to be picked up at the usual place.’
Mara looked up. Then, he felt the tip and edges of his blade. He seemed satisfied. He got up and started walking towards Druhyu.
‘Hey!’ Druhyu gasped in panic as he turned quickly and ran back some distance. ‘Don’t show me your face. I’m not going to see your face.’
Druhyu knew no living person had seen Mara’s face. He didn’t want to risk his life.
Mara stopped at the tree stump, picked up the bag of gold coins and judged its weight. He set it down and picked up the hundi. He didn’t open the document, but slipped it carefully into the pouch tied to his waistband.
Then, Mara looked at Druhyu. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’
It took a few moments for Druhyu to realise the import of what had been said. He shrieked in panic and ran towards his horse. But Mara, lean and fit, could move faster than Druhyu. Silent as a panther, fast as a cheetah. He was upon Druhyu in almost no time. He caught hold of Druhyu from the back, holding his neck in his left arm, pinioning him against his own body. As Druhyu struggled in terror, Mara hit him hard on a pressure point at the back of his neck with the knife hilt.
Druhyu was immediately paralysed from the neck down. Mara let the limp body slip slowly to the ground. Then he bent over Druhyu and asked, ‘Who else has been contracted?’
‘I can’t feel anything!’ screamed Druhyu in shock. ‘I can’t feel anything!’
Mara slapped Druhyu hard. ‘You are only paralysed from the neck down. I can release the pressure point. But first, answer …’
‘I can’t feel anything. Oh Lord Indra! I can’t …’
Mara slapped Druhyu hard, again.
‘Answer me quickly and I will help you. Don’t waste my time.’
Druhyu looked at Mara. His angvastram was tied across his face. Only the assassin’s eyes were visible.
Druhyu hadn’t seen his face. Maybe he could still come out of this alive.
‘Please don’t kill me …’ sobbed Druhyu, a flood of tears streaming down his face.
‘Answer my question. Has anyone else been contracted? Is there any other assassin?’
‘Nobody but you … Nobody but you … Please … by the great Lord Indra … Let me go … please.’
‘Is there anybody besides you who can find an assassin like me for Lady Manthara?’
‘No. Only me. And you can keep the money. I will tell that old witch that you have taken the contract. You don’t have to kill anyone. How will she know? She will probably be dead before Prince Ram returns … Please … Let me …’
Druhyu stopped talking as Mara removed the angvastram that veiled his face. Sheer terror gripped Druhyu’s heart. He had seen Mara’s face. He knew what would follow.
Mara smiled. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing.’
The assassin got down to work. Druhyu’s body had to be left there. It had to be discovered by Manthara and the others in her employ. It was supposed to send a message.