Avishi: Vishpala of Rig Veda Reimagined by Iyer Saiswaroopa

Author:Iyer, Saiswaroopa [Iyer, Saiswaroopa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2017-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two

Vrishabhavati

“Just the day to beg for food!” The voice cracked at the sound of a thunder. “Hey you! Come away towards shelter here. You will not encounter kindness in the rain! You! Are you deaf?”

The beggar, in fact, a recluse in torn clothes, looked around and spotted another lame beggar call out to him from a deserted shack at the corner of the cattle market of Vrishabhavati. At the first drop that splattered on his forehead, he covered himself with his empty earthen bowl and hurried towards the shack.

“Are you new here?” The lame older beggar enquired. “Even your bowl is empty. Cattle market is not the place where you find very charitable people you know?”

The younger recluse nodded. “Where do you suggest I can get some food and a night’s stay?”

“Food yes, if you go towards the inner circles of the city. Why do you carry a trident!”

“This is just for self-defence when I travel in the wild.”

“Travel in the wild?” The man’s eyes widened. He rummaged through his sack and looked up disappointed. “Had I seen you earlier, I would have given you some food myself.”

The recluse sighed and waved like it did not matter.

The beggar sighed and looked at him with curiosity.

“Copper trident! Some King must have offered it to you. Are you that kind of a man who can speak to the Gods?”

“You read well for a beggar.” The recluse remarked. “Could you kindly lead me to a place where I can rest for the night? As you see I am new to Vrishabhavati.”

“I shall take you to the right place.” The beggar held him by the arm. Suddenly unconcerned by the rain, he led him into the inner city, to one of the bigger houses in the second ring. “Come in.”

The recluse hesitated and stared at the house and then at the beggar.

“Listen recluse, this is the house of Noble Anudatta, the councillor of Vrishabhavati.” Before he completed the sentence, three armed guards came forward and surrounded the recluse.

“Come with us.” One of them strode closer, trying to push the recluse inside the gates.

“Hand over your weapon.”

To everyone’s surprise, the recluse complied and mutely followed them inside, not perturbed at the sight of their weapons, nor by the darkness of the room they shoved him into.

“Who are you, stranger?” A familiar voice shot through the dark. The lame beggar was not what he looked like. “A beggar, even a man of religion will not loiter aimlessly in the cattle markets of a strange city.”

“I told you I was new to the city.” The recluse chuckled. “There must be a shortage of oil this city faces. Even a noble’s house lacks oil to light a lamp!”

The recluse’s laughter filled the room.

“Faking some fear would have helped us dismiss you as a clueless stranger. But then…you seem to be a poorly trained spy.”

More laughter followed.

“You might be brave, stranger. But you gave yourself away. Can a travelling recluse afford a copper trident like this one? Would someone expecting charity not go to the markets frequented by the affluent.

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