Warriors Of Dandaka Kaand 1 Night Has A Thousand Eyes Chapter 15

Pushpak Karnick

28 July 2007, 23:25

The birds twittered overhead as Lakshman and Sulabha-Maa, carried on Shirpa’s shoulders, made their way through the woods on the north western part of the ashram. He pushed the chirpy chattering, by now a familiar acquaintance, to the back of his mind. How strange, he thought. To think that a few days ago, we were hiding in the bowels of the Prithvi, with not a cheerful soul in sight.

He looked around to gauge their distance from the river. The trees were sufficiently dense to discourage any brash calf from straying far into the lair of predators, but allowed humans to walk, rather, pick their way to reach the river which flowed towards the east, and formed the northern boundary of the ashram.

We walk towards the ‘Go-Mukh,’ Sulabha-Maa had said. The Go-Mukh, literally, ‘the cow’s mouth’ was a rock formation which resembled its namesake when viewed from a certain angle, and whence the powerful Godavari sprung forth from her underground source. It was a sacred place for all the Vedic clans, and the ashram hosted an annual festival in the month of Shravan, honoring Lord Shiva, who had brought the Ganga down south as a boon to the Sage Agastya. I know the story well, he recollected. When Agastya came to the south, he was unable to attend Shiva’s wedding with Parvati. Since it was at the behest of the three-eyed one that Agastya had left the Aryavarta mainland, Shiva and Parvati arranged a second wedding (and subsequent honeymoon, it was rumored) on the Rishi’s ashram, so that he could participate in the proceedings. They also brought the Ganga as a gift for the Brahmarishi, and named it the Godavari.

Hmmm, if the Kama’s Grove was any indication, then it must have been a very noisy honeymoon. Lakshman smiled to himself. The thought of Shiva’s honeymoon brought home memories of Urmila, and a sweet pain cut through his heart.

Aah, and so the elusive moon, from the darkest cloud, does peep Oh chaataka, the lovelorn bird! Welcome it, why do you weep?”

Lakshman turned around and faced Sulabha-Maa, who had recited the verse just as he had smiled, and thought about Urmila. How did she know?

“I was beginning to think that my dear Lakshman had been silently cursed by the Rishi, and turned into a mute,” Sulabha-Maa’s voice had an edge of mischief. “You have hardly spoken since we left the ashram.”

“…”

“You worry in vain, Rajkumar. My Urmi is as strong as the strength of her poems. This is as much her test as it is yours. You would do well and support her, for she would certainly not like it if she found out that you regret leaving her behind. Aah, here we are. Shirpa, put me down, my dear boy. I will walk to the stone myself.” Shirpa placed her gently on the ground. Lakshman turned around and saw that they had arrived on the banks of the Godavari, if you could call it that. They were standing on the shores of a huge pond, which was being fed by a continuous fountain of fresh water, gushing forth from an orifice in the mountain. Sulabha-Maa settled on a broad rock, and Shirpa sat down at her feet. Lakshman walked to the banks of pond and scooped up a handful of water in his hands. Facing east, he recited the Gayatri mantra and offered the handful of holy water to the Surya. He then proceeded to drink a scoopful of water, and returned back with a couple, for Sulabha-Maa and Shirpa.

“I do not worry, Maa. Nor do I, or will I, ever regret following Rama into the forest. I am his shadow. How can a shadow be separate from the body? But it seems,” he sighed, “that the dark night can indeed swallow the shadow and leave the body alone.”

Sulabha-Maa understood what ailed him. “My prince,” she paused, “you dwell on that-which-is, what you see. But that is a mere speck. That-which-is-not, that which cannot be seen or measured, but only observed as a cycle of cause-and-effect, which is beyond the sensory realms, and also beyond any measuring instrument invented by Man, ever — that escapes your attention. The night does not swallow that-which-exists, it only shows that there is much that you do not know. A diyaa does not dispel the darkness. It only strengthens the extent of the unknown, revealing the limits of human perception. The rishis know this. But take heart, there is a purpose for everything, that is the way of the Universe. Your preoccupation with riddles and mysteries could prove a fatal flaw. How else,” she added nonchalantly, “would you fail to notice the Rakshashi who has followed you from the depths of Dandakaranya, right upto the banks of the Godavari?”

The last sentence jolted Lakshman, and he made a quick scan of the path that they had taken. Not a leaf rustled, nor a bush swayed to reveal the hideout of the rakshashi who had been tailing them for such a long time. He crouched into the dragon-stance, his warrior-bred instincts taking over. His breathing was barely perceptible as he swung around twice, hoping to catch a glimpse of their pursuer. How could I have been so careless? I trusted Ratnakar’s words that no Asura could penetrate the shores of Godavari. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, as his eyes darted from one direction to another, returning empty each time. To have come this far, and go unnoticed, this must be a very powerful Rakshashi indeed! His hands went to the familiar place on his waistband where he kept his daggers, but he realized that they had all removed their weapons when they entered the ashram. Breathe deeply, concentrate! Guru Vashishta’s voice boomed in his head.

It was only after he had made a dozen scans that he was satisfied that there was nobody here but them. He looked down and saw the markings made by his feet. Perfectly circular, with two orbits, like the Chandrama that revolved around the Prithvi as she went around the Surya. He noticed that throughout this exercise, Sulabha-Maa and Shirpa had remained on their position. Sulabha-Maa had observed him with an almost bemused expression on her face. When Lakshman finally stood up to face her, she merely gestured upwards with her eyes, and her face broke into a smile that was at once, the riddle and its solution.

The birds, Lakshman observed, a shapeshifter? No wonder she escaped the enchanted woods. She simply flew behind us, not daring to set foot upon the sanctified soil !! The prickling on his neck, the constant chirping of birds who knew the truth – it all made sense now. He looked up to spot a flock of birds hovering around a bird which was almost twice their size. The bird was resting on a high branch, staring at the human party below. For a brief instant, their eyes met, and the bird/rakshasi knew it had been discovered. In a flash, it was airborne, heading as straight as an arrow, towards the eyes which had espied it.

Supanakha flew straight towards Lakshman, changing into her feline form midway through the jump. How many days had she waited for this moment, when she would find Lakshman unarmed and vulnerable. Her spies had told her about the destination that the humans were headed towards, and she had changed into a bird once they had crossed the river. She knew very well that if she set foot on the soil sanctified by the waters of Pancha-nadi, the five rivers – Ganga, Yamuna, Sarayu, Sindhu and Brahmaputra, she would turn to ashes at once. The jump, and the element of surprise, were her only chances to succeed in dealing at least a fatal blow to the one who had brought her such humiliation. She had been robbed of the latter, but she would make the most of her jump.

Lakshman stood transfixed on the ground, seemingly oblivious to the instrument of certain death that was hurtling towards him at great speed. The sight of the feline rakshasi making a near impossible jump from over thirty feet above him, brought out but one word from his immobile lips. Ati-sundar, very beautiful!

Supanakha was four feet away from Lakshman when she swung back her left forearm to deal the final blow. And missed him.

She fell on the ground, expecting to burn in an instant. But the ground was hard and she felt her forepaws and ribs crack under the fall. She could no longer stand up. Spitting mouthful of blood, she looked up at Lakshman, who seemed to be in a trance, staring at her with glazed eyes. She felt her eyes grow heavy, but refused to look down till the very last breath.

A thunderous growl brought them back to reality. Lakshman was the first to react. He picked up a huge rock lying nearby, and came towards her, intending to crush her head under its weight.

Lakshman lifted the rock on the top of his head, when he heard a voice speak inside his mind.

Sheshaa.

The voice was cold, filling his bones with a chill that was not of this world. Lakshman looked towards the direction of the voice. Sulabha-Maa. But the woman standing in her place was not Sulabha-Maa at all. She had jet black eyes, her body was smeared with ash, and she wore but a garland of skulls around her neck. Her tongue was bright red and gave of the odor of fresh blood. But the unmistakable odor lingering around her was fear. Supanakha too was looking at her, and he saw that the rakshasi was as frightened as he was.

Sheshaa, it is not your time yet. Nor is it hers. Your purpose is incomplete. The Brahman cannot allow you to die, nor to kill each other. Save your hatred for another day.

Why was she calling me Sheshaa? Lakshman wondered. He never realized that the heavy stone had been lifted off his hands and kept on the ground by some unseen force. A low growl on his right brought his attention towards the fallen rakshasi.

He could not believe what he saw. Supanakha was being lifted by a huge beast, a lion bigger than an elephant. So this was what caused her to fall away from me! He looked around to search his third companion, when the lion turned towards him and let out another growl. Shirpa!! His heart skipped a beat. What had this demoness turned him into?

She let out a small laugh, as if reading his thoughts. Lakshman felt a surge of energy through his mind as he was being assailed by countless images. Images he had seen before, images that had been his companions during his nightmares. They twirled and twisted inside his mind, drinking his consciousness away. He fell down, clutching his head in both hands, unable to stand against the invisible force of Brahman sorcery. Through the tons of images and countless recollections of his nightmares, he could barely make out one thread before he passed out. Siddha-ashram.


They found him in the bough of a banyan tree, stone cold and hardly breathing, curled up in fetal position.

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