SITA’S SISTER (16 page)

‘What truth?’ asked Sita, her face pale.

‘That there is a definite competition between Ram and Bharat. And if matters come to a head, Lakshman will choose Ram and Shatrughna will obviously go for Bharat.’

Sita was shocked into speechlessness. Kirti pursed her lips, suppressing her indignation.

‘Why would the brothers split up? What competition are you talking about, Mandavi?’ questioned Urmila, genuinely puzzled now but treading cautiously, lest she gave vent to her own rising ire. Mandavi was being particularly nasty, and worse, insinuating. But she reminded herself of her mother’s warning—that it would not take much to tilt the equation among the sisters.

‘I am not talking about the upcoming archery contest between the four brothers to be held next week,’ scoffed Mandavi. ‘It is this unspoken, unacknowledged rivalry between Ram and Bharat which has been there since they were born.’

‘And how is that? And why Ram and Bharat in particular?’ asked Sita, more curious than annoyed.

‘Because Ram is the son of the eldest queen—Kausalya and Bharat the son of the king’s favourite queen—Kaikeyi—and both are eligible for the throne,’ explained Mandavi. ‘The twins don’t count as they were born of the youngest queen and both are not duly bothered—they have left it to these two brothers.’

Mandavi was telling the story of the birth of the four princes but with a twist. After the birth of Shanta from Kausalya and having given her for adoption to his friend and brother-in-law Rompad, Dashrath was childless for years. One day, during a hunting expedition, he met the young, vivacious Kaikeyi, the lovely princess of Kekaya and fell in love with her. He married her on the condition that their firstborn would be the king of Ayodhya. But they remained childless. Eventually he married Sumitra, the princess of Magadh, his third queen, hoping for the son he yearned for but was disappointed again. Desperate, and on the advice of Vasishtha, and with the help of his son-in-law, Rishyasringa, King Dashrath performed two yagnas—the
Ashwamedha
and the
Putrakameshti.
At the end of the yagna, Agni arose from the
yagnakunda
and gave the king a jar of kheer to be consumed by his three wives which would beget him sons. He asked Kausalya and Kaikeyi to share the kheer with Sumitra. Sumitra got a morsel each from Kausalya and Kaikeyi, thereby giving birth to twins. Kausalya bore Ram and Kaikeyi gave birth to Bharat. This is how the four brothers were born.

‘The throne?’ asked Sita in shock. ‘You are talking about the brothers aspiring and fighting for the throne! Impossible, they wouldn’t dream of it!’

‘They don’t have to dream; it’s a reality that’s going to dawn sooner or later,’ said Mandavi bluntly. ‘They are princes after all and one of them is going to be the king—the choice is largely between Ram and Bharat…’ she shrugged.

‘So that is what was eating you up since the beginning! That is why you asked that irreverent question about why Ram is preferred to Bharat?’ accused Kirti. ‘Well, I will tell you, Ram should be king; not because he is the son of the eldest queen but because he’s the best in every way—as a person, as a prince, as a warrior and most importantly, because he is so hugely popular—something which Bharat can never aspire to! Sorry to say, dear sister, most find him so boringly good that he seems a trifle dull!’ she added hotly, not bothering to sieve her words either.

Mandavi blanched with cold anger, her eyes frosty. ‘No, dear, Bharat
will
be king. Lakshman and your husband are not in the competition anyway; they are too servile, as Manthara says, and possibly because your mother-in-law is not a princess of Magadh as she claims, but of suspect parentage,’ she continued relentlessly, ignoring her sisters’ expressions of speechless outrage. ‘I repeat, Bharat
will
be king, not Ram. Ma Kaikeyi’s father allowed his daughter to marry King Dashrath on only that condition—that her son shall be the king of Kosala,’ she pronounced glacially. ‘And the word of honour is very important in this Raghu dynasty. King Dashrath cannot go back on his word. He will have to crown Bharat as king.’

‘And you his queen, of course?’ asked Urmila quietly, keeping her tone and temper even, not allowing herself to forget her mother’s warning plea. ‘Is that what this is all about? Is that how Manthara managed to convince you, Mandavi?’

‘But yes, dear, you would wish it otherwise, wouldn’t you?’ said Mandavi with deceptive sweetness. ‘You would rather have your dear elder sister be queen than your cousin…and what they say is so wrong, blood is certainly not thicker than water!’

Urmila gasped in horror; Sita looked as if she had been physically struck, her face ashen. All this while, Urmila had been deliberately leading the conversation to extract the truth out of Mandavi. But she had not expected so much venom to be spewed. Manthara seemed to have worked thoroughly on her sister.

‘Stop it, Mandavi! This is outrageous!’ cried Kirti furiously. ‘You have been despicable throughout this conversation, constantly disparaging our husbands and now you stoop so low to say such a wicked thing! How could you?’

Before Mandavi could retaliate from the vitriolic assault of her sister’s words, Urmila intervened. ‘Please, girls, don’t! We are fighting!’ she said angrily, bringing the two girls to their senses. ‘We have fought before as well but this is so hideously vindictive!’ she cried. ‘What are we fighting about—who’ll be queen, who is superior, who ups who? How does it matter? Did we ever think this way? We were always sisters, never cousins, never queens and princesses. Oh, what’s wrong with us?’

The plea in her voice stopped further argument. Mandavi looked shaken. So did Sita and Kirti. It had been a moment of mad viciousness; each lashing at the other.

‘It is Manthara who is so wrong for us,’ continued Urmila, her tone gentler. ‘I wasn’t doubting you, Mandavi, but trying to warn you that she’s dangerous. Her motives and methods are questionable. She is toxic. With her sweet venom, she brings out the worst in us—our insecurity, our latent fears, our petty jealousies. She is deliberately harmful, sowing distrust and ill will. You saw what she has done to us? That’s why I was worried. That’s why I was probing… By now, hopefully we have all realized how effectively her poison has played up…’

Mandavi look wretched and turned to Sita, ‘Your goodness might prompt you to forgive me but I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for what I said…’

Sita’s face was crumpled. ‘No, it is what you believed that is so hurtful… As an adopted sister, was I always an outsider for you, Mandavi?’

‘Sita, like Mandavi, Manthara has worked on you too, do you realize?’ said Urmila softly. ‘By ingratiating herself to both of you, she has played one against the other.’

‘She certainly never made me forget what an unfortunate orphan I was, brought up with my selfish sisters!’ agreed Sita, with a mirthless smile.

Mandavi nodded her head slowly. ‘She made me feel that as I had married the best, I deserved the best—from being the princess of Varanasi to being the queen of Kosala…how could I have been such a blind egotist?!’

‘Is that what you wanted to be—a queen?’ Kirti asked in surprise.

‘Yes,’ confessed Mandavi, her voice suddenly low. ‘I always hoped I would marry a king to be his queen and not remain a princess all my life. That is why I was hesitating in marrying Bharat…’

‘And you only agreed when you were convinced that Bharat had a fair chance to be king!’ Urmila could not hide the incredulity in her voice. Mandavi had always been the most ambitious amongst them, sharp and politically astute, but she would not have believed her to be so excessively materialistic or so deceptively manipulative.

‘Guilty as you think me to be,’ said Mandavi candidly, reading her sister’s thoughts. ‘I am not very proud of myself right now. Yes, it was my dream to be queen one day but not at the cost of my sisters’ happiness. I know you girls don’t believe me, but I mean it. I was wrong. I was led to hope, and allowed myself to hope, that I was the destined queen as Bharat’s wife…’

‘We do believe you, Mandavi,’ said Sita. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. I was gullible too, and inferred the worst.’

Mandavi gave her a hard look, turned on her heel and spun away, rushing out of the patio. Sita called urgently after her, but she did not stop.

‘What did I say wrong?’ asked Sita in bewilderment.

‘Give her time,’ Urmila said gently. ‘She is upset. And so are we.’

With one of them having gone, the three girls sat together in protracted silence, drawing consolation from each other. They were still shocked at the wickedness of Manthara and how their individual involvement with her had exposed their wickedness as well.

Urmila simply wondered who would be next in line to be seduced by Manthara’s evil talk.

She did not have to wait long. Manthara was visibly enthused about the contest between the four princes where they would display their martial skills. But she was visibly disappointed when Bharat refused to participate in the contest, citing the reason that he could never compete against his brothers. It was after much cajoling and at Ram’s request, that Bharat allowed himself to join the contest in the spirit of sportsmanship.

The day of the contest dawned as clear and unclouded as the results were going to be. Everyone was clearly rooting for Ram. Dashrath beamed regally. His three queens by his side looked on eagerly, each uniformly proud of the four princes, or so it seemed. Kausalya’s face held an intense look of hope and expectation—her son would not fail her, it seemed to say. Sumitra looked supremely serene as if knowing what would happen next. Kaikeyi was the most animated—enjoying the contest and applauding heartily.

The sisters preferred to flock together though Mandavi seemed stiff with them. She remained with them for a while and then joined her mother-in-law. Was the contest reminding her of her harsh words? She had not spoken to them since that awful day and Urmila was getting anxious at the deepening coldness between them. She looked neutral, as she always did, her face expressionless and taciturn.

As far as the competition was concerned, it was ridiculously tame. The brothers looked half-hearted in their attempts and the contest was so brief that it ended as soon as it began. It was the mild-mannered Bharat who excelled and gained the first position, but much to everyone’s surprise—and obvious delight—it was Ram who was announced the winner. Vasishtha soon revealed the alleged discrepancy. The four princes had been put to test in more unsubtle ways as well. The guru had made one of his students pose as a distressed citizen who, in the thick of the contest, begged for help. Ram had quickly obliged, leaving the competition mid-way, rushing to the man’s rescue, relinquishing the first position to his brother. But this gesture declared him the winner. And a precursor to the throne, Urmila thought with a smile, watching the clamorous applause for Ram and the stark disappointment on Manthara’s face. It was the dawning reality Manthara feared most, and was so furious about.

That evening, Urmila could not resist teasing her husband about his poor show at the contest. ‘It was such a sham! Who were you brothers trying to fool?’ she asked with a laugh.

‘Our dear parents,’ he chuckled. ‘We were dead against it—especially Bharat—but Manthara managed to convince Father to organize it. I guess she wanted to show the people of Ayodhya who is the best among us. And yes, you are right, it was a charade for our parents’ and Manthara’s benefit!’ he said, unpinning her bun rolled tightly at the nape of her neck and running his fingers through her loose hair. He did that so often, and each time, as he watched her mane tumbling down, he looked at her as if he was undressing her. Urmila was pleasantly disconcerted but a thought struck her—Manthara again. She had planned the whole show though it had not ended as she would have liked.

Urmila was not allowed to think any further as she sank willingly in his arms, feeling his hands and lips working on her deliciously…

The next morning Urmila was surprised to see the old hunchback in her palace’s front hall.

‘Got some sweets made by Princess Sita for you,’ announced Manthara, bowing. ‘She is busy in the royal kitchen, serving up this new recipe I taught her but she sent me right away to give it to you. Have a bite!’ she requested brightly.

‘Delicious!’ Urmila said perfunctorily, sampling a tiny morsel. ‘But then, it always is. Sita is a natural!’

‘Yes, she is a bright and quick learner, and so patient,’ beamed the old maid. ‘Why don’t you visit the kitchen, princess? I shall teach you too.’

‘Because I do not like to cook,’ Urmila replied pleasantly. ‘I would rather paint.’

‘Oh that smattering of colour? It’s lovely, of course, but that doesn’t make the man happy when he’s hungry, does it?’ she cackled. ‘I say the way to a man’s heart is always through the palate! Didn’t you notice the glow on Ram? It’s all because of the fabulous fare Sita serves him every day. Such a talented girl, and so sweet and loving! Just the right choice for our dear Ram. It is fortunate that he has her as his wife. His soon-to-be-queen,’ she added slyly.

Manthara took Urmila’s silence as acquiescence and continued with her toothy smile. ‘That girl is real lucky! An orphan who was found by none other than the king of Mithila himself…and so a foundling grows up as a princess like you. But unlike you, by marrying Ram, she’ll become queen, smart girl.’