SITA’S SISTER (9 page)

But for all her brave words, Urmila was not too sure about the terms their future would dictate on her and her sisters.

Mandavi, for all her pretentious claims, could not take her eyes off the portrait. Not that the portrait was a piece of art, discerned Urmila’s critical eye, but the man in the portrait definitely was. After glancing at Shatrughna’s miniature which Kirti seemed to be mooning over as well, Urmila concluded fairly that Bharat was the best looking of the brothers. Broad forehead, a pair of deep set eyes, a finely chiselled nose over perfectly shaped lips. He was incredibly good looking, a quality which any girl would find difficult to resist. Mandavi could not remain immune for long either and Urmila could well surmise that it would not take Mandavi long to accept the marriage proposal. King Dashrath had shrewdly known what he was about to accomplish when he had sent the portraits over with the letter. He knew the answer well before he finally received the expected reply in Janak’s neat hand. The four princesses of Videha would be marrying the four princes of Kosala on the date already fixed. Just a week away and the twin cities of Ayodhya and Mithila burst into a frenzy of activity and euphoria.

Urmila found it wonderfully strange that just a few days ago, she was preparing for her sister’s wedding and now she was going to be a bride herself! The sisters running errands till yesterday were today’s brides-to-be. Getting pampered and fawned upon and being dolled and decked up was a delicious feeling; Urmila was enjoying the indulgence. The only dull spot was that she rarely got to catch a glimpse of the man she was soon to marry. She wanted to talk to him personally, and openly, about their official engagement but the series of pre-wedding events at the palace prevented her from meeting him. Neither did he make any attempt to seek her out. It was a disquieting feeling but Urmila tried to cheerfully brush it off as bridal nerves.

That morning her father had asked the four girls to seek the blessings of Rishi Vishwamitra, who it seemed, had been the chief brain masterminding the four weddings, silently and piously. As Urmila stood before him, she saw him in a new light. He was surprisingly very good looking but formidable with his angry, piercing eyes—a lot like Lakshman’s, Urmila thought with mild amusement. He was tall and well built, his lanky frame accentuating a muscular sturdiness. But it was his eyes which often did most of the talking—they were often calm, with frequent flashes of humour and irascibility. Considering he had assiduously planned their romance, Urmila could well believe his incredible love story. The beautiful apsara Menaka, the celestial nymph, was especially brought from heaven by Indra, the king of the devas, to distract and seduce the rishi and break his severe meditative penance which was threatening the three worlds—heaven, earth and hell. She did, but only to fall in love with him as well. And he, too, fell in love with her. They got married but not to live happily ever after…

But there was nothing remotely romantic about him now—neither in dress, design or demeanour. Urmila followed her sisters as she touched his feet to seek his blessings. ‘After the way you wrangled the blessing from the great Rishi Parshuram, I fear, dear, I am careful to measure my words!’ chuckled Vishwamitra.

Urmila found herself blushing, hating her reaction each time the betraying colour flooded her face. His mocking words had brought a rush of memories of that fateful day when she swung from hope to despair, from fear to unmitigated joy. ‘You are a brave child and in your unassuming, charming way, you shall win whatever you aspire for. But it won’t be easy, dear. You are the strongest of the four; you shall reap what you receive; not reap what you have sown…’

Urmila looked puzzled. What was he trying to imply? Before she could ask him to elaborate, he continued, ‘There was a reason why I came to Mithila, there was a reason why I stayed on here and there is still a reason why I wanted the four of you to marry the four young princes of Ayodhya. Time will tell all…’ the rishi declared sagely, albeit with a certain conceit. It was as though it was he and not Time and Fate who had propelled the events. Urmila frowned. Was this a blessing, a back-handed self-compliment or a subtle warning of things to come?

She shrugged nonchalantly. She was not a superstitious person, nor one who particularly believed in ritual and rites, her father’s philosophy and family’s inherited pattern of though notwithstanding. Was she supposed to perform some yagna to propitiate an angry god, she wondered with a mirthless smile. As if reading her thoughts, the sage told her gently, ‘It is not yagna, but dharma which you shall always have to uphold. It is how you nurture your relationships and your deeds that will see you through. You are the one who shall deliver them all to happiness eventually. Your love shall eventually succeed!’ he said and Urmila caught a fleeting look of a sad, lost look on the sage’s tired face. Was he reminscing his lost love?

Urmila was not sure if she was more confused or frightened by his eerie enunciations. But catching the kindly look on the sage’s face, she assumed the best and felt reassured. However, she was relieved, as were her sisters, only when they finally took their leave and proceeded back to the palace. They almost ran back, their quick steps breaking into a slow sprint.

‘He is a little scary, isn’t he? Weird…’ Kirti giggled.

‘Don’t be disrespectful!’ Sita rebuked her.

‘I am not being rude, but he really did scare me and I was wondering if I am doing the right thing marrying a man I haven’t even met,’ said Kirti wryly.’ Everything seems to be going fine—too fine—and that is the reason for these unfunny jitters!’

‘…And his words were hardly reassuring. Was he trying to warn us about something?’ asked Mandavi, puzzled. ‘But then why would he, he is the one who arranged this whole affair!’

‘Hush, girls, look at the brighter side—be thankful to him that he gave us our life partners and helped us stay together—even matrimony could not separate us…’ smiled Sita jauntily, driving away the clouds of doubt and depressing thoughts.

They walked silently, each lost in her own thoughts when, suddenly, loud, angry words broke the peace of the place.

‘…This is unfair to all of us! Why doesn’t he understand?’

It was a male voice and Urmila’s keen ear immediately recognized it to be Lakshman’s.

‘Calm down, Lakshman!’ they heard Ram plead, clearly trying to soothe his evidently irate brother. The brothers seemed to be in the midst of a heated argument and the passing girls could hear each word ringing clear through the window above. Courtesy demanded they moved away and not eavesdrop but the next words uttered by Lakshman rooted Urmila immobile.

‘How can I remain calm when I keep insisting that I do not want to marry? Why am I being forced?’ he asked furiously.

‘If you don’t, this is going to be embarrassing for all of us. Why are you being so stubborn?’

They were talking about her. Urmila felt a certain coldness creep into her heart and with each word he pronounced, it became harder and heavier.

‘My marriage would be a lie, though an alluring one!’ she heard Lakshman say. ‘It’s best if I don’t marry. I am saving everyone from heartache, don’t you understand, brother?’

‘Tell her then…she might understand…’ Ram sounded unconvinced.

‘How am I supposed to tell her I cannot marry her?’ There was frustration in his voice.

Urmila couldn’t take it any longer; she could not bear to hear his harsh pronouncements. All she was aware of was a searing pain deep in her heart and she wanted to get away from there, from the onslaught of his savage words. She made a sudden movement, the dry leaves rustled noisily under her feet and there was a pause in the conversation above. She looked up and saw Lakshman looking down at her. There was a look of dismal incredulity on his face…and something more. But she did not bother to know. She turned around and started to walk away as fast as she could. Mandavi made a move to come with her but she shook her head violently.

‘Please, no, let me be!’ she barely managed to speak.

‘Mila, stop!’ called Lakshman from above.

She heard him but quickened her steps and made a mad dash to the woods—her childhood hideout whenever she wanted some private moments of solitude and solace. She was working herself up in a state and she did not want anyone, even her sisters, to see her like this. She was crazed with grief, the tears falling hard and fast, but not able to wash away the hurt and pain breaking her heart. She had got it all wrong. He had never loved her. He didn’t want her. He didn’t want to marry her—the rejection stung. And his repudiative words kept ringing feverishly, searing her mind, her soul, her very being. She felt discarded, thrown away in distaste and contempt.

She had been running long and was deep into the woods. But she well knew her way around. Her mother had warned her repeatedly about the dangers but this thick glade was her haven, her secret hideaway where she could bare her heart. She felt drained, her energy seeping out, her body wracked with dry sobs, she crumbled into a heap. Through her brimming tears, she could not see what was hurting her most—his rejection, her lost love, her shattered trust, her anguish or the humiliation. She couldn’t forgive him; she couldn’t forgive herself even more. What madness had made her fall in love with him, made her want him, trust him, cherish him? And the fact that she couldn’t have him and, bitterly still, that he did not want her, burned her with a mortification more consuming than the licking flames of disillusionment. She had been ruthlessly forsaken, cast away for a reason unknown. Urmila hated wallowing in tears of self-pity but never had she experienced such a crushing, intense feeling of abandonment. She had never felt more lonely and bereft, more desolate and deserted.

She did not realize how long she had been sitting here. It was high noon now: she must have been here for hours. Urmila knew she had to return before her absence created a panic. But the thought of informing her parents that she would not be marrying Lakshman made her feel heartsick. How was she going to explain it to them when it was inexplicable to her as well?

A sudden rustling noise brought her back to another reality. Was it some animal? Urmila realized she had no weapon on her to protect herself. She frantically looked around for a hardy stick or rock or something to hurl at the approaching animal. She heard the sound of running footsteps and before she could rise and run, Lakshman appeared from nowhere. He seemed to loom large before her. He looked at her as if in a daze.

Both of them looked shocked and speechless; he relieved, she stunned. His face showed his fear and his quick relief at seeing her sitting crouched amongst the bushes. He wanted to rush and grab her by her shoulders and hold her close, never to let go of her soft body crushed against his but he restrained himself, recalling the words he had addressed to his brother. They had not been meant for her ears, but she had overheard them and Lakshman could never forget the stricken look on her face. And then she had fled from him, like a hurt doe, disappearing into the woods, hoping for a place to hide to lick her wound—which he had inflicted with his insensitivity and lack of foresight. He wished he had spoken to her earlier than she having to overhear the damning conversation with Ram; he wished he could snatch back those words.

He was standing so close to her that she could hear the wild thudding of his heart. The mere sight of him made her almost melt in the comforting warmth of his presence but she remembered why and where she was. She was not going to chase her mad dream again. She struggled within herself, the pain and anger rushing back, pushing out any soft thoughts of him. Lakshman stared back at her. She still looked grief-stricken, her eyes haunted, the tears drying into dark rills, ravaging her lovely face. He cursed himself for being the cause of that despair.

‘How did you find the way?’ she asked stupidly.

‘I would have searched and eventually found you, Mila!’ he said evenly, spacing the two syllables of ‘Mi-la’ with an unbearable tenderness.

Urmila was stung to the quick. ‘Don’t, don’t call me that! Don’t you dare again! You have no right,’ she said forcefully, her fury rekindled. ‘You know better than to keep up with this pretence! You didn’t have the courage to tell me what I was entitled to. Coward!’ she spat. ‘What was that you said? Aha, marriage is an alluring lie. Well, so are you! A dishonourable man with dishonourable intentions.’ Rage leapt at her throat, choking the words and she could not speak anymore.

‘All I know is that my intention was never to hurt you!’ he said simply, his craggy face falling into soft lines of gentleness. ‘It is not as it seems, what you overheard was a part of a larger story. And I genuinely intended to tell you the truth but…’

‘But what? You lost your nerve?’ she asked contemptuously. ‘Frankly, I don’t care to know. I don’t need your explanations. You are what you are; it was me who could not see through you. I was the fool!’

‘So was I,’ he said grimly. ‘I didn’t lose courage, I lost my heart. To you…and that’s what made it so difficult. I loved you and wanted you so desperately…yet I dare not have you…’