SITA’S SISTER (20 page)

Urmila was numb. Her brain, stunned at the sudden turn of events, could scarcely unscramble the episode Lakshman was referring to. King Dashrath had offered Queen Kaikeyi two boons when she had saved his life so impressively in the aforementioned battle. She declared she would keep them for a later day. That day was today. She had asked for the impossible—a throne for her son and exile for Ram.

Lakshman was beyond seeing reason. ‘How can my father forget his dharma as a king and be just a husband listening to his wife in matters of the court? His personal decision can’t influence royal affairs of the state.’ he lashed. ‘Ram, you say you are doing your filial duty but I am questioning his role, his status and his right as a king, not as a father or a husband. On what grounds is he sending you away? You have not committed any crime; he has, by denying you your right to be crown prince and convicting an innocent man—you—to be sent on exile for fourteen years! You have no reason to be bound by the promises made by our father to his wife. As the prince of Ayodhya and the kingdom of Kosala, as the prince loved by his subjects, as one who is brave, kind and fair, you have a duty towards them. You know you can revolt and will be supported by everyone—the nobles, the ministers, the army, the people. Say it brother, and I shall do it!’

Lakshman paused, his fury unabated but his voice calm. ‘You can. But you won’t, dear brother, will you?’ he said savagely. ‘You would rather accept the injustice and go for that exile because, for you, filial obedience is above all. You would never disregard your father’s promise. It is our family tradition, right?’ he countered bitterly. ‘And they both—Kaikeyi and Bharat—know that you would not dream of disobeying Father’s wishes. That was the clever plan; and they won!’

Ram had kept silent during Lakshman’s tirade, allowing him to vent his pain and the fire raging within him. ‘You would not have been half angry or hurt if this had happened to you. Why, if I know you well, dear brother, you, too, would have quietly obeyed our father’s orders.’ asked Ram quietly. ‘This anger stems from your deep love for me. You don’t want me to suffer. Lakshman, you are my other self, my very soul in another body—how can you react differently from me? Why this senseless anger and indignation on my behalf? I have no desire for the throne or for power. I take his decision as a new opportunity for myself. If not as king, as a hermit, I shall get a chance to go to the forest and serve there.’

‘But what about all of us here—your mother, your wife, your brothers?’ interjected Kausalya, her voice choking with emotion. ‘How would we live without you? And why? Because my husband is bound by some pledge he made to his ambitious wife?’ she asked with vicious wrath. ‘I won’t allow it! I have suffered enough over the years but not anymore! I shall not part from my son! I won’t allow you to leave us…you cannot disobey your mother either!’ she sobbed, clinging to Ram in desperation. ‘Be kind, son, take pity on me… How will this old mother live without her son? Take me with you!’

It was a terrible, moving sight: the mother hugging her child, holding on to the last vestige of sentiment and sanity. Overwrought, Urmila turned to Sita. She was standing straight and motionless, her eyes dry. She kept silent, her fists clenched.

‘Mother, you have to be with your husband, my father. He needs you now more than ever, in his hour of pain and grief,’ Ram gently wiped the tears from his mother’s cheeks. ‘Be kind to him, mother, for what he did; he had no choice. I have seen him—he is helpless and lying in bed, disconsolate and moaning. He is my God, mother, and I can never disobey him. His words and commands lead me to my destiny. Oh mother, this is fate, else why would someone as loving as Mother Kaikeyi ask for those boons now? Don’t hate her either; she is doing what fate is making her do…’

‘Don’t blame it so conveniently on fate, brother!’ broke in Lakshman harshly. ‘Call it fate or Ma Kaikeyi’s folly, but are we to look on helplessly and give in to fate? Ignore and swallow the injustice? Suffering injustice is also a crime, brother. As princes and warriors, it is our dharma to remove evil and establish justice. I am going to do just that—are our shoulders meant to embellish and simply showcase the bows and arrows and swords? I would take on all those who have conspired against you! Either by taking to arms or through argument. Will no one speak to the king and the queen? Why are we accepting their unjust order?’ he asked in frustration. ‘Why doesn’t anyone say anything? Let Bharat be king if they so wish but I shall make one last attempt to persuade them to not send Ram to the forest. I shall go and beg them, implore them, grovel at their feet if need be…’

He made a move to rush out of the room before anyone could stop him. But an unusual, softly spoken request brought him to an abrupt halt.

‘Would it make a difference, dear?’ asked a soft, gentle voice. It was Sumitra. ‘My son, I am proud of you. And this proud son of mine would lower his pride for his brother and beg at their feet for mercy but would they hear you? Would they listen to us? To reason? Ram is correct—this turn of event is a twist of fate. There is more to it than the pain and anger you are feeling right now for your brother. You want to fight for him, give him the justice he has been denied. Then, support him in what he wants, not what you want for him…’

She paused and Lakshman understood what she was saying even before she had finished the sentence. ‘You read my mind, mother, as you always do…’ he said softly, the anger suddenly dissipating from him. With a marked change of expression, he turned to his brother. ‘I am sorry for the words of anger and irreverence against our father but I cannot bear it when you are harmed. And now I realize, you are not hurt, you are, in fact, welcoming this opportunity to see a new world. In that case, please take me with you in this wonderful journey. We have always been together; we are, as you said, one soul in two bodies. So, do not refuse me, Ram, because I shall follow you nevertheless. You cannot stop me.’

Urmila was struck numb, the implication of his words hitting her fast. He was leaving her to go with his brother for fourteen years.

Ram was not surprised, but he did not approve of what he had heard from his brother. Frowning, he looked worriedly at his brother and then at Urmila. Lakshman did not turn around to look at her. His back was to her, straight and unrelenting. She got the message—he would go to the forest, with or without her consent.

‘No, you will not,’ countered Ram forcefully. ‘You and Sita have to look after the family when I am not here. They need you more. Your place is in the palace, not in the forest. It is my punishment which I have to bear alone.’

‘Oh the great follower of dharma, you have given a fine speech!’ Sita’s strident voice cut his sharply. ‘As a wife, let me repeat my dharma to you. I have to be where my husband is; I have a right to share your love and happiness but also your unhappiness, duties and misfortunes. I am to share everything with you—a wife is first and foremost the companion of her husband, at his side always, loving, supporting and guiding him. So, there is no room for discussion here; I will go with you to the forest. And please do not insult me by saying I am a princess and that for me my world is the luxury of the palace. The forest will be my luxury henceforth. You cannot abandon me. You cannot. I am your wife and I am with you wherever you go. Parting from you will be more cruel than death.’

There was no plea in her statement; it was articulated with a succinctness that was stinging. But Urmila was horrified. Sita in the forest? She would be an incumbent for them in their mission, and worse, she would be exposing herself to unknown danger. Urmila was about to protest but bit back her words at the last possible moment: she could not interfere between husband and wife. It was their decision. She looked at the two queens, hoping they would stop Sita. But, instead, Kausalya looked pleased with her decision. ‘Just as a good wife should be!’ she said proudly. ‘I give you my blessings, dear. Help him in his endeavour.’

How could Sita be of any help to them in the forest, wondered Urmila. Rather would she not be making herself and the brothers susceptible to harm, injury and risk?

Both Lakshman and Sita had made their intentions clear: they would be accompanying Ram and there was no room for any argument. Lakshman had forsaken her and Sita was going to leave the palace with Ram. The two persons whom she loved most had left her, without a moment’s hesitation. Suddenly, she had had enough of the scene in front of her. Her heart constricting painfully with conflicting emotions, feeling suddenly unwanted and bereft, Urmila silently slipped out of the room, but not unnoticed as she had thought she would.

Urmila’s first instinctive reaction had been a flood of hurt for being rejected by both her husband and sister, followed by a deep and bitter anger. They had not considered her at all, each intent on getting what they wanted. She felt betrayed, left out and let down. Her grievance was more against Lakshman than Sita. For Sita, there was reserved an envy—another unfamiliar feeling—that she could accompany her husband to the forest; Urmila could not. Her husband had rejected the option outright. There was the guilt for harbouring such disagreeable scepticism towards the people she treasured most; why was she thinking such terrible thoughts about them? And then came the volcano of grief, like molten lava, exploding and scalding each sense, every thought on how she would be wrenched away from the man she loved for fourteen years. A man who did not love her enough, who could betray and forsake her yet again. He did not need her, her heart wept.

‘Mila, don’t!’ she heard him say hoarsely. ‘Please don’t hate me so!’

She turned instinctively on hearing his beloved voice, unable to mask the stark despair in her eyes. He winced.

‘Don’t hate me for what I have done,’ he repeated. ‘Forgive me, if you can. I know I have failed you!’

There was a lump in her throat; she could not speak. She did not want to speak; she did not trust herself. The sight of him was so precious…soon it was going to be rare, no, absent—she would not see him for years now. She was drinking in the sight of him uninhibitedly, without anger or pride. She timidly stretched out her hand to touch him, scared he would soon disappear. She felt his smooth skin under her trembling fingers, looking straight into his eyes. They were as anguished as hers—tormented, tortured and torn between the two loves of his life. It struck her that they did not have too much time. He would be leaving soon. There was no time for anger and rancour, for pain and regret, for hatred or forgiveness. All she could do was love him.

‘I love you,’ she breathed softly. ‘Go.’

‘Yes, I have to. But not with you thinking the worst of me. Mila, I love you. But you think I don’t,’ he said, his fingers unconsciously loosening her bun at her nape, the hairpin dropping at her feet. ‘Never, Mila, never think that. I cannot prove what I feel for you but don’t condemn me. Can you feel how you fill my heart, my being, my very soul?’ he swallowed convulsively. ‘You are in me. And that’s what I shall have when I am without you for the next fourteen years.’

‘Then why can’t you take me with you?’ she asked sadly.

She said it before she could stop herself as she knew the answer. It was a futile request. Lakshman was going out of his own volition with Ram, he had not been banished. He was going with his brother as his soldier, his bodyguard, and a soldier does not take his wife to the battlefield. Urmila knew she had to harden her heart for herself—and for him. She looked at the darkening sky from her window, black and bleak, refusing to break into light, ushering the dawn of a new day.

‘I cannot take you with me because I love you too much…not too less as you think,’ he was saying tenderly, holding her hands and turning her wrists out to stroke them absently with his thumb. ‘It’s not easy in the forest. Ram is taking Sita because he knows he will be able to protect her. I am going as his guard, so how will I be able to look after you or protect you? And more importantly, you are safer here in the palace. The forest is not a safe place, and it’s not just the physical hardship I am talking about. I know you can suffer that gladly. Dandaka is now especially dangerous with the demons, having captured it, throwing out or murdering the rishis, disrupting their penance. And you have seen how treacherous they can be, Mila! Don’t you remember how they entered the Mithila palace and took the form of Sita? Everyone was fooled. Even you! Then how can I take you with me to such a place and expose you to danger?’ he said violently. ‘I would go mad with worry just imagining you coming to any harm! No, Mila, I would rather part with you for these many years than endanger you even for a moment! Possibly, as Ram said, that’s what we are destined for—to fight the evil there and not sit easy on the throne of Ayodhya.’

His face was tortured, his eyes glistening with pain. He looked at her. She looked lovely and forlorn. Her silence drove him crazy. He did not miss the plea in her heart, her silent, softly despairing appeal, breaking his heart, almost killing his resolve. ‘I can never forget how Ravan and the other princes looked at you at the swayamvar and I would have killed each of them for their temerity! And in the forest, if not protected, a woman is anyone’s for the taking—it’s an animals’ world with no rules, morals or societal restrictions. How can I ever take you there?’