Histories

Raakshus

The Beginning

Smiling gratefully, Bhismavitra turned towards the Palace and, wrapping his cloak about him, made to leave. As though struck by a sudden thought, he paused and turned towards the guard, ‘Have you had your evening meal friend? Go to my home, Ramvati is still with us. Ask her to give you supper. Who knows when you will get a chance for a home cooked meal once the fighting begins…’ Almost as an omen, cries of alarm sprung up from all corners of the City ‘Saavdhan! Dushman nazar mein hai! Beware! The enemy is in sight!’ Shivering slightly, Bhismavitra smiled weakly at the guard, and hurried away into the darkness, thanking the Gods for their kindness – if his wife had not worked in the Queen’s chambers, there would have been no guard sent to fetch him, no physician by his wife’s side, and quite realistically, little chance for his soon-to-be-born child to survive.

-flash-

Striding towards Bhismavitra’s house on Lodhi Road, the guard wondered at the man’s graciousness and shook his head in disbelief. With his wife in labor, hundreds of thousands of gold nuggets worth of stock in his store, and Jahangir’s army of demons outside the city walls, the old man was concerned about whether he’d eaten! Resolve strengthening, the guard picked up his pace – he wouldn’t have time for supper, what with the enemy beating down the door, but he would at least deliver Bhismavitra’s key to his home.

A Naming

‘The city has fallen my queen, Jahangir stalks the corridors of the palace.’ These words, spoken to her no less than five minutes earlier, echoed hollowly in her head. ‘And the King?’ she had asked. Her question had been met with silence. ‘I do not know, my queen’ the messenger finally replied, ‘I last heard he was injured, but alive.’

Realizing that she needed her wits about her, Mumtaaz bowed her head slightly and murmured ‘Great Gods watch over my people, give them sanctuary and strength for what lies ahead. I pray also that you embrace my husband the King in the safety of your heart. Let him live, Lord, so that he may right the wrong done here today.’ Rising, the Empress Mumtaaz turned towards Bhismavitra and the infant he held in his arms.

‘A boy, your majesty’ the shopkeeper said quietly ‘who’s existence is likely to be but a few hours. Even if he survives, I am certain we will not. Better that he had not been born at all.’ Pain, anguish and a father’s fury made his words bitter and drawn out. Wincing slightly at another thought, Bhismavitra added ‘His mother, your maid, did not survive to see him.’ Crumpling to the floor Bhismavitra cried ‘Oh Majesty, what shall we do? What will my son see in his life? What life will he have? He is born cursed!’

The Queen smiled gently, and raised Bhismavitra to his feet. ‘Look at him, shopkeeper,’ she said, ‘See how his eyes glow with innocence; see how his face radiates love and peace. Let us find solace in this moment, and consider what we can do.’ The child gurgled softly in his father’s arms, filling Bhismavitra with paternal love. ‘I name you Raakshus, my cursed son,’ he said ‘and pray that you outlive the name.’

Smiling wryly at the oddness of a father naming his son ‘cursed’, the Queen turned towards her guards and whispered ‘Send word to the bard. He alone can save this child. Go quickly.’

Jahangir

The prospect of slaughter added speed to his soldiers’ zeal, and within moments, the shrieking and wailing of innocents being ruthlessly killed filled the air.

-flash-

Jahangir coldly considered the general shivering before him.

‘I beg you Lord, please show mercy on your servant. The Queen took her own life before we reached her chambers. It was impossible to capture her alive. I did all I could, Lord, please show mercy. My family has served you for seven generations. Mercy, great Lord, mercy!’

‘Took her own life?’ Jahangir thundered, ‘How could she have taken her own life? The woman’s vows prevented it!’ Pausing for a moment, brushing a strand of blood stained hair off his face, Jahangir thought to himself, ‘He could not have been here. Not here.’ Then he added ‘You said there was a merchant in the Queen’s chambers? Bring him before me.’ Adding offhandedly he said ‘And hang this fool.’

-flash-

Bhismavitra eased his shoulder, sore from the manhandling he had received, and stood calmly in the courtyard of the Palace before Jahangir. Partially filled with hatred for this demon in front of him – a demon that symbolized the destruction of all he had lived for, he was filled with peace and contentment in the knowledge that his son would live to see gray hair.

‘For the one hundredth time,’ he said woodenly, ‘my wife worked in the Queen’s chambers. Given that your army was outside the walls of the city and many citizens have fled the city, she summoned her personal physician to facilitate my wife’s childbirth. I do not know how the Queen died. I did not see anyone enter the chambers. All who had locked themselves in were there when your men broke open the doors. I do not know anything.’

Jahangir smiled warmly. ‘No-one entered the chambers, no-one left the chambers. You do not know anything. Is that correct merchant?’

Bhismavitra nodded, hope filling his face.

Leaning forward and looking intently into Bhismavitra’s eyes, Jahangir said quietly ‘In that case, merchant, where is your new-born child?’

-flash-

Poking idly at the mutilated corpse on the ground, Jahangir turned towards his advisor and asked ‘Have the contents of the royal treasury been loaded?’

‘Yes Lord.’

‘Has the city been entirely razed?’

‘Yes Lord.’

‘Is the purging complete?’

The advisor hesitated. ‘Mostly, my Lord. There are still some children hiding in the park. It is a difficult place to navigate and one that no doubt they know intimately, and as such have been able to evade our troops.’ Pausing, he added ‘Several of the men have reported hearing the cries of a newborn child, but on hacking though the bushes in its direction, have found nothing, only to hear the cries from elsewhere in the park.’

Jahangir felt a shiver go down his spine as blood began pounding in his head. He decided to leave. ‘Rally the army. We are finished here.’

Crazyboy

My first memory is that of receiving a beating at the hands of an older child. I was the youngest in the park – perhaps of 2 or 3 seasons at most. Food was limited to berries and hilsa fish from the tiny lake, and quite by chance I had come across a small package – no doubt left behind from the occasional traveler that wandered through en route to other realms. On opening it, I found several loaves of bread, some meat, potatoes and fruit. Rubbing my hands in glee, I sat down and began to eat. The boy that stumbled upon me and my feast was one of the eldest, or rather, one of the ‘Elders’ as this group called themselves. Frowning at me he said ‘You know the rules. You should have deposited this with the Council of Elders so that we could eat first. How will we protect you kids unless we are healthy?’ Grinning to himself, I saw the gleam in his eyes as he said ‘Now I will have to discipline you.’

-flash-

Wandering listlessly about the bramble bush, I suddenly heard a voice from within it. Crouching down, I held my breath and willed my heart to stop beating so loudly. Having being constantly picked on, as the youngest in the park, I had long since avoided contact with any of the other children. Rubbing a small bruise on my knee, I tried to listen to what was being said – this was not a familiar voice, not child’s voice. My curiosity got the better of me and I lay down and began to inch my way into the bush. I wanted to see the faces associated with these voices. While travelers did occasionally camp in the park, I had never, ever, heard of anyone camping within the hollow of the bush. In fact, beside myself, I did not think that anyone even knew there was a hollow within the bush.

Peering carefully through the leaves, I could barely make out the figure of a man crouched over an item on the ground. He appeared to be chanting softly over the item, as though casting a magic spell. He tensed suddenly, though he had no way of detecting my presence, and as he turned, I caught a quick glimpse of knotwork tattoos on his forearms. Pausing for a fraction of a second, our eyes met, and then in an instant, he vanished before my very eyes!

More frightened than I had ever been before, throwing caution to the wind, I stood and fled to the tree where the other children typically gathered. Blubbering incoherently, I tried to tell them what I had seen. ‘Man, talking, vanish. Bush! VANISH!’

Laughing at the first sight of me in over two years, blubbering, wearing a skin around my waist, bruises and scratches all over my body, the other boys began to laugh and chant ‘Crazyboy, crazyboy, go back to the bushes!’

Disoriented, disillusioned and frightened, I fled.

A Familiar Presence

Having taken up ‘residence’ of sort within the bramble bush, for several years now I had shunned all contact with the other, now grown, children in the park. Occasionally running into one them, they would no longer beat me with sticks – I had after all grown - but taunt me with the name ‘Crazyboy.’ Over the years, I had learned to ignore them and keep about my business. The necessity to survive, had forced me to seek deep within, to seek strength, perseverance, and endurance within myself.

After that night when I first saw the man in the bushes, there had been several occasions when I had felt a presence that in time I grew to think of as ‘his’ presence. I often caught a glimpse of a stranger, but those glimpses were more fleeting than I would have liked, and the man always appeared to look different – yet I would feel it was my stranger in the bush.

Often, when the hunting and gathering had been lean, I would return to the bush to find packages of food awaiting me. I often felt unusually invigorated on consuming the contents, and would spend days thereafter not requiring any sustenance whatsoever. Intrigued, I tried to hide and see if someone would appear, but no one ever did.

One evening, I stepped into my ‘home’ to find that two of the other boys had discovered my sanctuary and were pillaging it at will. Consumed suddenly by a furious rage, I threw myself at them and with the benefit of better nutrition, had them fleeing in no time at all.

I set myself to cleaning up, and did not consider for a moment that they would return in greater numbers, jealous of the neatness and comfort of my ‘home’. I did not think, that this time they would not merely taunt me, but actually seek to kill me. I did not think they would come.

They did, and I fought harder than I ever had in my life. I know I killed several of them, perhaps even most of them. But they were many, and I was one. I felt myself tiring and a slow warm haze began to fall over my eyes. My movements began to slow, my body began to ache, and I felt myself falling…

-flash-

The man stepped silently into the bush and considered what lay before him. His nose tingled wildly from the steel-like smell of fresh blood that literally covered the floor. Turning the side of his head that was shaved towards the ground, he leaned sideways and examined each body carefully. Finally finding the one he sought, he bent to lift it. The knotwork tattoos on his forearm writhed on his skin as the rippling muscles beneath appeared like taut steel cables. Cradling Raakshus’ apparently lifeless form in his arms, he whispered ‘Little Raaky, there is only one way I can save you now. I pray that you forgive me for what I must do.’

Stepping into the moonlight, and laying the lifeless body on the ground, Bastien lowered his head towards Raakshus’ bare neck.

The wind began to blow and wolves howled in the distance.