Warriors Of Dandaka: Kaand 1: Night Has A Thousand Eyes Chapter Eleven

Pushpak Karnick

1 July 2007, 04:22

The day dawned to the welcome song of the mynaa and a host of other birds that Lakshman did not recognize. Their journey had taken them through the forests which were at once dark and frightening, and also, the keepers of untold beauty. He was reminded of the Darkwoods near Kosala, where sunlight fought valiantly against a never ending army of leaves to make its way to the earth, and often lost its way in between. The shade had been welcoming at first, but after walking almost two days in the same damp, cold surroundings, he was not so sure about the ‘welcoming’ part anymore.

He glanced at Ratnakar, walking a few feet on his right — they were no longer walking in the single file formation. Ratnakar seemed to be oblivious to the dampness, the cold that sent a chill up Lakshman’s spine in spite of the cloak that he carried. Too proud to show that he is weary, he thought. Ratnakar was walking, nay striding, forward with the confident gait. With the manner of someone who has been there before, and knows every blade of grass and every leaf and vine along the way. Lakshman played with the thought for a while and then dismissed it. Ratnakar’s previous life was a mystery best left to Time to solve.

Here and there, a ray of light bounced off a leaf shining with fresh morning dew, the bright spots dancing for an instant as they grasped the window of opportunity that had opened for the briefest instant. The trees swayed and shimmered to the morning breeze, and countless such windows opened and closed, as if playing out a dance from one of the romantic plays that he had seen. Nilkanth, Abhay, Srinath, Shirpa – he looked around – and Sulabha-Maa, being carried on the Abhir’s shoulders. She had insisted on accompanying them to their destination. Lakshman recalled that she had said something about being required at the appointed time. Another riddle for him to solve — True to her nature, and very much against her name , he thought.

He had not had enough time to talk to her after their first meeting. By the time he had returned from the hearty meal that the villagers had prepared for them, she had already retired to her hut. However, she had spoken to Ratnakar for a ghatika or so, and he had returned from her hut with a grim expression on his already solemn face. The riddles just never ended.

The forest seemed to thin out around him, but the darkness made it hard for him to gauge why. The trees seemed to be placed apart in some geometrical pattern, as if planted by human hands. After walking for an hour or so, he could discern that the trees were indeed planted in some combinations of rows, seemingly random to the casual observer, but apparent to one trained to think like a warrior.

Ratnakar and Shirpa now took the lead, taking the group this way and then that, turning left or right in the most unlikeliest locations, walking through the forest as if following some invisible signs. Lakshman stepped a feet or two behind the group to observe. The trees had thinned considerably to allow brief streaks of sunlight through, and they weaved an exquisite pattern of shadow and light on the forest around them.

There, he finally grasped something. The trees they were walking through were as apart to let a two-man row of humans pass easily. As he saw the shadows of his companions fall onto the next row of trees, their shadows seemed to lick the bottom of the trees on the opposite side. Lakshman did some quick calculations in his head. The trees on the others rows were planted closer than the rows they were walking through!! If one knew what to look for, then one could find the correct way through this invisible labyrinth. His eyes widened with wonder at this ingenuity.

But what lay in the rows where they did not walk? He was now burning with curiosity to know what lay in those mysterious pockets between the trees. Was this the reason why Ratnakar had been so confident that the Asuras could not trouble them here? And what lay at their destination, which needed such intricate devices for its protection?

Scarcely had he finished the sentence when a glimmer of light hit him straight in the eyes. He covered his eyes on reflex, but not before he saw the ground where they had stood moments ago rise up just a notch and then subside, as if some invisible wave had passed over it, nay, passed through it. I must be seeing things, he thought. What was that … ? He could not even find a word to describe the phenomena that he had just witnessed. Or imagined. With one last look behind him, he turned back to catch up with his friends.

He smelled, rather than heard, the ashram. The smell of pure ghee burning on the sacrificial pyre, made of dried cow dung cakes. The odor was refreshing. It meant that there was a yagna in progress in the ashram. It also brought back the memories of his Gurukul. He had never liked sitting at the altar, offering ghee to the fire as his Guru and his acolytes offered their mantras. The smoke and the fumes stung his eyes and made them water heavily.

It was strange, he mused, when the inhalation of the fumes, sanctified by mantras, was considered to cleanse the human system of the various parasites and microorganisms which were responsible for causing a multitude of diseases. But Rama, he never wavered from his position, no matter how much the smoke stung his eyes. Lakshman recalled the proud look on his Guru’s face as he saw the little boy of no more than twelve years, fighting hard to keep his eyes open and not allowing the fire to ever go out. Rama had shown his steadfastness even as a boy.

He stiffened suddenly, and spun around in a fraction of an instant. The hair on the back of his neck stood up like the antennae of a spider. That feeling of being pursued surfaced again. The last time he felt like this had been when they had crossed the river with Shirpa. Lakshman had dismissed the feeling earlier, attributing it to the cautious Abhir, who was probably following their movements before making contact. As the feeling had died after they met with him, Lakshman had almost forgotten about it. Till now.

Lakshman made a quick scan of the terrain they had covered in the past few minutes. The fact was that Ratnakar had led them on such a zigzag path that he was not even sure which direction they had come from. This would make the tracking of whoever was following them doubly difficult. But the pursuer had to be within visible range to follow them and not be swallowed by the labyrinth. Lakshman’s eyes could not find anything in the forest that looked like it did not belong here. A few birds twittered on the trees as they returned back to their nests after a busy day.

Not a twig broke, nor a leaf rustled. If some Asura had been able to cross the Godavari, and also avoid being trapped in the labyrinth, then it was some powerful Asura indeed. The warrior’s instinct within him told him that he was not wrong, that it was not a play of shadows. He trusted his own instincts to know that he had to be on full alert henceforth. He also decided to keep the news to himself. No point in worrying others about an invisible enemy until the enemy showed itself.

Lakshman moved ahead, following others into the narrow path that lead them to their destination. It was the day before the Bhadrapada Amavasya.

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