Warriors of Dandaka : Kaand II "War Drums" Chapter Four

Pushpak Karnick

17 July 2008, 23:40

“Asooan bhar aaye ri …”

Urmila walked down the passage as the notes of Charukeshi wafted over the palace. It was the third prahar of the night, she turned her gaze towards the Eastern rampart. The moon rested peacefully in the night sky, nestled in its retinue of countless stars. She was headed towards the palace gardens to pick fresh flowers for the morning puja in Kausalya-Maa’s kaksha.

“Gori torey nainawaa..”

Mandavi. She smiled to herself. Looks like I am not the only one who cannot sleep tonight. Urmila stopped walking and closed her eyes, absorbing the swirling, melodious taans that descended upon her like the first drizzle of the shravan. Charukeshi reminded her of the purple bell flowers found on the mountains to the North. She imagined herself on such a field, the purple carpet extending from one end of the horizon to another. It was such with her – every Raag, every emotion, every person in her close vicinity; immediately blossomed into a color in her mind. Urmila had the gift of colors, just as her younger cousins Mandavi and Shrutakirti were adept in the arts of song and dance, respectively. Not Sita, she thought. She was always the warrior-princess.

The thought of her elder sister wandering about in the wild sent a jolt of pain through her heart. The spasas that Kausalya-Maa had sent to locate the whereabouts of Rama had only been successful in tracking the trio till the borders of the kingdom of Nishads. Their chief, Guha, had refused to divulge any information other than the fact that Rama, Sita and Lakhsman had passed through these lands on their way south. With Bharat and Shatrughan out of the city, Kausalya Maa and Mahamantri Sumantra had the difficult task of rebuilding the administration and the trust of the people in the Suryavansha clan.

Aryaputra !! As wave after wave of melodious taans echoed through the silent night, Urmila felt the familiar ache rising in her heart. Charukeshi was a perennial favorite among the brothers, but Lakshman was especially fond of the late night Raag. Mandavi had once remarked (when they were in Mithila) that Rama-bhaiyya was like the Raag Shri — sombre and deep as the bottomless abyss in the ocean; Lakshman was intense and evocative like the Charukeshi; Bharat, a hefty mace welder like the Bhairav; and Shatrughan fresh and young as Basant. They had laughed together on this, all except Sita, of course; who always became quiet and pensive whenever they spoke of Rama.

Well, she thought wistfully, Aryaputra was fond of a quite a few late night melodies. The memory of that one night they had spent together gave her goosebumps. She missed him, Oh yes she did! Every waking moment and worse, every sleepless moment, she missed him with the entire essence of her being. Mandavi and Shrutakirti could at least visit Bharat and Shatrughan at Nandigram, even if for a few hours during the day. Even Sita-didi had Rama-bhaiyya to comfort her through their vanvaas. But Urmila, she had been left entirely to herself.

“Kaun tori bithaa, kaun jaaney dukhada …”

She recalled the moment when Lakshman had informed her of his decision to accompany Rama and Sita into the forest. She had been shocked, but her Kshatrani upbringing forced her to put up a brave face. She had felt so proud to be the wife of such a dutiful Kshatriya prince and brother. She had even bade her husband farewell with a smile, thinking that it was all a misunderstanding and that the princes and Sita would return in a short while. But they never came back, after the death of Dasarath Maharaj, the pride was replaced by an equally intense sorrow and anger. Kausalya Maa’s resolve and strength had seen them through those times, and Urmila had unknowingly began emulating her. At times she could sense Kausalya Maa observing her work from afar, her face a strange mixture of paternal pride and regret.

“Jiya ki laagi tori, kaa tohey peed padi?”

Urmila was brought out of her reverie by the crisp, metallic sound of steel striking steel. Her first reaction was to take cover under a thick pillar, hiding away from the prying eyes of some would-be assassin. This was not the first time that somebody has attempted to assassinate a member of the royal family. Fortunately, every attempt so far had been successfully thwarted by the PFs that guarded the city. She crouched on all fours, as she had been instructed by her bodyguards, out of range of an attacker with poison-tipped darts or arrows.

Urmila expected the palace to be filled with the coded cries of the PF guards that would signal the capture of the culprit. The guards should have descended on the spot by the dozens as of now, she thought. The guards maintained a near-perfect code of cries that would readily pass on as authentic bird cries to a layman. Only the members of the royal court knew the details of such calls, to coordinate with the PFs during an emergency situation like the one she was currently in.

Silence. Urmila grew uneasy with the growing silence. Clang! Another blow. And another. The blows seemed to have a rhythm that she could barely discern. The absence of PF guards puzzled her enough to rise up and peek from behind the pillar on to the grounds below.

There were guards below. About two dozen or so (she counted hastily), fully armed in their battle gear (this surprised her), forming a neat circle around a solitary figure in white robes. One of the guards was engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand combat with the intruder, their swords clashing together, set to a near-constant rhythm. The intruder was skilled, she noticed, and was hardly wearing any protective clothing at all. He was clad in all white, from his turban to his robes. His white robes whirled and billowed as he gracefully dodged the blows of his opponent, the sweeping trails of his stole throwing the guard into confusion. The guard recovered from a particularly dizzying maneuver, and lunged forward to strike, only to find his sword, and his hand, caught in the angavastra. Urmila heard a distinct chuckle as the intruder jerked his hand back, and the helpless guard could only watch his sword flying away from him. He bowed his head and stepped out of the ring. Urmila watched with growing amusement as two guards stepped in for the combat. They were quickly dealt with, and so were the others – up to four at a time. When all the guards had either been disarmed or incapacitated due to a telling blow to their vitals, the intruder removed his turban and let his knee length hair loose.

Knee length hair? Urmila realized with a shock, and next moment, some amount of relief.

Senadhipati Kaikeyi was conducting her military exercise for a batch of PF guards! Ever since Rani Kaikeyi had been made the Senadhipati, the Supreme Commander of the armed forces of Kosala, she had introduced combat exercises for the troops at unearthly hours to test their endurance and instill proactive vigilance in their minds. This was not the first time that Urmila was watching Kaikeyi perform her martial exercises, but this was the first time she was watching her conduct one for a group of soldiers.

* * * * *

The exercise over, Kaikeyi dismissed the guards. Helping herself to some cool water from a nearby matki, she paused to gather her breath. She had noticed Urmila walking along the passage a few moments ago, before the exercise had begun. She searched for the slender form of her daughter-in-law amongst the thick stone pillars and found her standing at the end of the corridor, looking down towards her. Urmila must have noticed kaikeyi looking up, for she hastened away towards the gardens in a moment or two. Kaikeyi sat down to rest on the black stone steps that led upwards from the water tank and the maidaan to the residential chambers of the royal family.

The cool breeze from the south soothed her sweat drenched body. She removed her angavastra and kept it at her feet. The muscles in her shoulders relaxed as the southern wind gently swirled around her.

This was not good. The guards needed more practice if they were to go up against anything Kekeyan. She refused to believe that her brother Yuddhajit was behind the intrusions into the Kosalan borders. Probably Senapati Gajapati. He was known to use such methods on their western neighbours, the Mlecchas of the desert. The bottomline was – the troops needed more training. And as the Senadhipati it now became her responsibility.

Dasa, dasa …. she replayed the meeting in the Suraksha Kaksha. Kausalya had obviously invoked the displeasure, if not full blooded wrath of many ministers and courtiers by inviting her to the meeting. What if she was the Kekayan spy? How can we trust her? She was sure the whispering behind her back had never ceased, even after the trial. Kausalya must have defended her as before, for the entire council to have agreed to her presence. Not Vashishtha, not him, she knew. He supported Kausalya, though he did not necessarily distrust Kaikeyi. Kausalya had capped off the invitation by not only trusting Kaikeyi with sensitive information regarding the Kekeyan intruders, but had made her the Senadhipati, the Supreme Commander of the Kosalan forces. As was her wont, she had then walked out immediately after the meeting, not waiting to talk to anyone. Or was she just avoiding me? She had never understood Kausalya. Sumitra – docile, naive and oversentimental. Sumitra she understood. She had also exploited Sumitra on several occasions, and lately, she thought, had driven her sons into exile. Though Manthara pulled the strings, that was no excuse for Kaikeyi’s behavior. She wondered why Kausalya trusted her, or merely did a show of the same, waiting for Kaikeyi to commit one fatal mistake.

Devi, she sighed. Give me strength to face the coming months.

She looked eastwards, as if looking for some sign that the Devi had heard her prayer. Streaks of yellow and pink were heralding the arrival of the new day. On the ramparts, the guards for the day shift were relieving their nocturnal comrades. Cries of “Bhor Aaiyee Re-e-e-e-e” signaled the change of guards from one post to another. Kaikeyi picked up her sword and strode purposefully to the center of the maidaan. She closed her eyes in a silent prayer and then began her daily exercise, her broad sword sweeping brilliant arcs of silver against the dark western skies.

The taans from Mandavi’s kaksha echoed across the courtyard as the servants of the Palace commenced their duties for the new day.

“Asooan bhar aaye ri, gori torey nainawaa
Kaa tohey peed padi?
Kaun tori bithaa, kaun jaaney dukhada
Jiya ki laagi tori, kaa tohey peed padi?”

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