Asura by Anand Neelakantan

Author:Anand Neelakantan [Neelakantan, Anand]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789381576052
Publisher: Leadstart Publishing Pvt Ltd

35 The Duel

Ravana

Sleep eluded me. Bhadra’s dark, ugly face took on grotesque shapes in my mind, sometimes leering, sometimes piteously pleading. I lay twitching on my sheet. Tomorrow I would send Maricha to him. Perhaps a few gold coins would assuage my guilt. But I was also angry and embarrassed by the man. It had all started in a moment of weakness. How could I have stooped so low? My conduct had been inexcusable. But I could have forgotten about it and got on with my life, but for this gift from Shiva. It was beyond me how a single act of passion could produce a child, while my queen and I struggled for twelve years to give my son, Meghanada, a sibling. Akshaya Kumara was born after many years, but Meghanada already had a half-brother – Athikaya. Mandodari knew and hated him so much, that she showed the maid and her son extreme kindness. A few minutes in the darkness, anger at my wife, my race, and my life – that is all that it had taken to make this creature of darkness – Athikaya.

I could have made both mother and son vanish at my royal command. But something held me back – perhaps some humanity remained within me. Or maybe it was the memory of a long lost love and a small baby floating in a reed basket over a swiftly flowing river – or maybe it was the memory of a long lost love and a small baby girl fished out of a ditch by a Deva King. After all, Athikaya, black and ugly, with buck teeth, was also my son, and I had become older and wiser, or was too foolish, to commit such heinous acts. Like my daughter in the northern Deva lands, the son of my sin too, grew up quickly.

It was true that I had not been paying attention to day-to-day governance. My ministers were efficient and I was immersed in family life. My coffers overflowed and I had no ambition left for any conquests. I was in my fifties and content. I knew I was a good King and that people would talk about my regime long after I was dead. Like most rulers in their middle age, I was more interested in leaving behind a legacy. Death did not seem so distant now. I could feel its breath on my neck. I was no longer invincible or immortal. Strangely, I had begun to value life. I relished every moment and the little things like the pealing of a distant temple bell; the clang of swords as my beloved son, Meghanada, practiced his swordplay; my wife cooing to my younger son, Akshaya Kumara; the tinkle of bangles as my teenaged niece, Trijata, fluttered around the sweeping verandahs of the palace. . .the small pleasures of life gave me so much joy.

In the centre of controversy was Athikaya, my son from the maid Mala. I loved Meghanada more than anything else in the world, even more than myself.

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