PRINCE IN EXILE (28 page)

‘But no direct connection with the Second Queen,’ Guru Vashishta said admonishingly. ‘Despite the hunchback being Rani Kaikeyi’s personal attendant, we have no proof that they were in connivance on this dark plot. If anything, I severely doubt that Rani Kaikeyi herself played any active part in the worship of the Dark Lord, human sacrifices, and all such doings. I believe we will find only that Manthara was up to this dire mischief to serve her own ends. And if so, then it is something I have suspected for a long time, for I have sensed the presence of evil forces close to the royal family long before these recent events. Only I did not know the identity of the person or persons involved.’ 

‘Now you have her,’ Kausalya said, ‘caught red-handed.’ 

The guru grunted in response. Kausalya and Sumitra exchanged a worried glance. Surely this would be all the evidence they needed to point the finger at Manthara? Surely this time too the daiimaa could not go scot-free of her crimes? But even if Manthara was found to be guilty of her evildoing, what good was it if Kaikeyi were not convicted as well? Too much was happening too soon. Kausalya felt as if events were hurtling, just as they themselves were rushing, at breakneck speed towards some unforeseen conclusion that none of them could have imagined or dreamed. What that would be was anybody’s guess. She thanked the Devi that at least Rama was safe in bed and far removed from this new turn of events. Little harm could come to him in the arms of his lovely bride at least. She glanced at Sumitra and sensed that much the same thought was crossing the Third Queen’s mind just then. She squeezed Sumitra’s hand again, glad for her presence, and together they turned the last corner towards the wing where she had left the daiimaas and the serving girl. 

The daiimaas were sitting on the ground, looking as anxious as before. They rose hurriedly to their feet when they saw the two queens and the guru approaching. They bowed at once, prostrating themselves before the preceptor, who briefly acknowledged them, then turned toward the object of their gathering. 

Without preamble, Guru Vashishta went to the diwan where the serving girl still lay unconscious. He sat beside the woman and leaned forward. To Kausalya’s surprise, instead of speaking to her or attempting to rouse her, the guru simply sniffed, around her face, then her nostrils, then her ears. Kausalya was struck by the notion that the girl was so redolent of the stench of dung 

-the odour was palpable even from here, two whole yards away -that it was unlikely the guru could smell anything besides that pungent reek. But after a moment of close sniffing, the guru turned his head and beckoned to Kausalya. She went to him, her heart pounding. 

‘This woman has been possessed by a spirit,’ he said quietly. ‘This much at least is true. The stench of occupation is unmistakable.’ 

‘So then it’s true what the daiimaas said,’ Kausalya said excitedly, glancing back at Sumitra, who stood right beside her. ‘Kaikeyi’s spirit was transferred into this body while another asura spirit took over Kaikeyi’s own body.’ 

The guru raised an eyebrow. ‘And yet the woman who paid her respects to me at the griha pravesh welcoming ceremony was none other than Rani Kaikeyi herself. Which is why I now deduce that Rani Kaikeyi was indeed in her own body, but was under great duress on some account. And so, for a brief period, Rani Kaikeyi’s soul fled her physical form, and took up occupation of this form, using it to try to warn those who were to be harmed by the other force.’ 

Kausalya stared at the guru. This was not the answer she had expected to hear. ‘You mean that their souls exchanged bodies, don’t you, maha-dev?’ 

The guru shook his head, replying patiently, ‘Nay, Ranimaa Kausalya. As I said, Kaikeyi was indeed Kaikeyi. But she was operating under the influence of some other entity, whether mortal or asura I am not certain yet. That intense pressure of outside control drove Kaikeyi’s aatma out of her body for a brief while, during which time she came upon this woman’s body and occupied it, hoping that in this way she would be able to undo the goal that the outside influence was working to achieve.’ 

Kausalya pondered this for a moment then replied slowly, ‘So if we assume the outside influence was Manthara … ‘ 

‘Very good, rani. That is what I am favouring as well at present. Go on.’ 

‘Then Kaikeyi was herself but under mental pressure from Manthara. And that severe pressure—’ Suddenly it all made sense to Kausalya in a weird, twisted way. ‘Do you see it, Sumitra?’ 

‘Not really,’ the Third Queen replied timidly. ‘But am I understanding you correctly when you say that this woman was Kaikeyi for a while, but the real Kaikeyi was also herself?’ 

That’s it exactly!’ Kausalya said. 

‘Under duress,’ the guru added quietly, ‘a mortal mind is unable to retain its hold upon the physical form. It must have taken a great pressure indeed to drive Kaikeyi’s aatma from her body, even if for a short spell of time. During that period the real Kaikeyi’s body would certainly have lain asleep, for no outside force can operate even an occupied body without its own aatma present.’ 

Kausalya felt a tug on her sari. She turned to see Susamadaiimaa staring wide-eyed at her. 

‘Rani,’ the old woman said. ‘She’s awake now.’ 

Kausalya frowned. ‘Rani Kaikeyi?’ 

The daiimaa pointed over Kausalya’s shoulder. ‘This one. Whoever she may be. My lady.’ 

Kausalya turned and saw what the daiimaa had been pointing to. The serving girl, lying with her head back on the bolsters, was staring at them with wide-open eyes. 

*** 

They were both roused by the knocking on the door. Sita sat up first, looking around. She was briefly disoriented by the strange surroundings. Then she remembered everything at once: the wedding, Ayodhya, Rama. He sat up beside her, then stepped out of bed in a swift, smooth motion that she had to see to believe possible. Before she had rubbed the sleep from her eyes, a sword was in his hands. 

She raised a hand. ‘It must be Nakhudi. A security sweep. Or something.’ 

His face was dark in the blackness of the chamber. The lamps had sputtered out hours ago, before they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, exhausted and sweaty from passion play. ‘I doubt even your bodyguard would interrupt our suhaag raat to check on our well-being.’ 

He moved towards the door. She had a sudden vision of him and Nakhudi facing off with one another on her balcony back at Mithila. She got out of bed quickly, joining him at the door just as he was about to pull back the bolt. He glanced at her briefly, then opened the door. 

She saw Nakhudi’s face looking down at her anxiously. ‘My prince, my queen,’ the Jat bodyguard said in an uncharacteristically worried tone. ‘Rajkumar Rama has been summoned to the kosaghar on urgent business. He must come at once.’ 

The kosaghar? Did they still have that here in Ayodhya? Sita had thought that archaic custom had been discontinued in all civilised cities. But then again, not all cities were as civilised as Mithila. ‘Now?’ she said. ‘Can’t it wait till morning, Nakhudi?’ 

The rani-rakshak shook her head. ‘Apparently not. The queen’s words were quite clear to the two guards who brought the order.’ She gestured over her shoulder. ‘It took much persuading to get me to wake you.’ She touched the hilt of one of her curved swords. ‘I almost had to tell them to get lost.’ 

Rama and Sita exchanged a glance. ‘It must be to do with Father,’ he said quietly. ‘I must go at once.’ 

‘I will go with you.’ 

Nakhudi cleared her throat. ‘Forgive me, my queen. But Rani Kaikeyi’s order was quite explicit. Prince Rama, and Prince Rama only, will accompany the guards back to the kosaghar.’ 

‘Rani Kaikeyi?’ Sita watched, puzzled, as Rama went back into the room to lay down his sword and re-tie his langot in two quick, efficient tugs. He was back at her side before she had finished speaking. ‘Not Rani Kausalya? Are you sure?’ 

‘Certain, my lady,’ Nakhudi said, standing aside to give Rama room to pass, but possessively crowding the doorway so that the guards could not get past her. ‘You must stay in your chambers. I will wait inside with you. I do not like after-midnight calls. Especially on wedding nights. It is most inauspicious.’ 

Rama turned to glance at Sita. He gave her a brief reassuring smile, conveying more than any words could have done, and left, pulling the door to behind himself. Nakhudi came into the room, conspicuously avoiding looking at the tousled and rumpled bed. ‘While we wait, my lady, it might not be inappropriate if you elect to garb yourself. Just in case.’ 

*** 

The woman on the diwan issued a long hissing sigh. Then she lunged forward, grabbing hold of Kausalya’s arm and neck in a fierce grip. At once Kausalya was assailed by the stench of dung and damp and vomit and something else, something she had never smelled before on human breath. It smelled like … brimstone? 

‘Kausalya,’ said a voice that sounded exactly like Kaikeyi’s, except that each word was elongated, as if the person were struggling to put out one syllable at a time. ‘Paaaaaay heeeeeed … nooooot muuuuch tiiiiime noooooow … Saaaaave … Raaaaaama.’ 

‘Guru-dev,’ Sumitra shouted behind her. ‘The witch will kill her! Please, save her!’ Behind her the daiimaas erupted in a chorus of alarmed exclamations and muttered mantras. 

But Guru Vashishta only stood immobile beside Kausalya, watching and listening intently, his whole attention focused on the serving woman. 

‘It … waaaaaaas … nooooooot … my … dooooing,’ said the tormented Kaikeyi-like voice. The woman’s eyes were bulging now, the red veins sharply defined. And Kausalya could see a trickle of blood seeping slowly out of one flared nostril. ‘I … truuuuusted … the … witch … Manthara … buuuuuuttt … sheeeeee … serves … anooootheer … maaaaaster … ‘ 

Kausalya could feel the grip on her arm growing stronger, crushing her flesh and bone. She resisted the urge to cry out for help, knowing that if she was in any real danger the guru would not simply stand and watch as he was doing now. For some reason he wished to let the woman speak her piece. And, Kausalya sensed, that piece was almost said. 

‘Foooooorgggiiiive meeee … ‘ the woman moaned. 

And then, with a torrent of life-blood pouring out from her nostrils, her ears, her eyes, and her open mouth, the woman released her hold on Kausalya and slumped forward, falling face down on the ground. She lay there still and unmoving, a pool of blood forming quickly around her flared tresses. 

The guru knelt down and touched the woman’s neck. ‘She is dead,’ he said quietly. Only then did he stand up and look directly at Kausalya. ‘Are you well, my rani?’ 

She nodded, unable to speak at once. 

Sumitra hugged her tightly, weeping copiously. ‘Oh Devi, Kausalya! I thought she was going to kill you just now!’ 

‘No,’ the guru said. ‘Poor soul. She was already as good as dead. She stayed alive only that she might convey that one last message to you. A message that achieved two goals at once. One, it put the finger of blame squarely upon the hunchbacked daiimaa. And two, it told you something you would not otherwise have believed, that the real Kaikeyi, trapped within her own body and mind under the crushing influence of the daiimaa’s evil shakti, does not endorse or desire what her physical form has been given to accomplish.’ 

And what is that?
Kausalya asked herself silently, still recovering from the shock of the assault.
That is the real question. What is Manthara using Kaikeyi to accomplish? 

She searched for an answer in the words emitted from the dying woman’s throat. Cleansed of its sibilant syllables, the message was simple enough:
Kausalya. Pay heed. Not much time now. Save Rama. It was not my doing. I trusted the witch Manthara but she serves another master. Forgive me. 

Save Rama. 

*** 

The door of the kosaghar was open when Rama arrived, flanked by the two palace guards. They had walked in silence all the way. Rama knew better than to ask questions of them; they were simply following orders. But he sensed a tenseness about them even as they walked the long corridors to the kosaghar. An air of great unease, quite unlike their usual smooth efficiency. He had lived among armed Kshatriyas all his life, and he could read their outlook simply from the way they moved and spoke - or did not move and speak. These two men were exceedingly unhappy about something. But they could not say what it was, and he did not wish to waste time by asking. 

They stopped at the door of the kosaghar, and one of them rapped quietly on the outside. Then they stepped back to allow him passage. 

Rama took a quick deep breath as he went inside. In another moment or two he would know why he had been summoned here at this odd hour. And why the two guards had been so unhappy performing a simple duty. 

‘Shut the door behind you,’ said a female voice. 

He did as he was told, then turned and saw Rani Kaikeyi standing with her arms folded across her chest. Further along the chamber he saw his father, seated on the ground like a child with his legs sprawled wide, his head in his hands. Was he weeping? Surely not. Oddly enough, the maharaja seemed otherwise quite all right. Rama could clearly see his chest rise and fall with the lurching motion of someone who is trying hard to still his own crying. 

‘Kaikeyi-maa,’ Rama said, performing a namaskar out of respect for his clan-mother. ‘You sent for me?’