38

The raga had chased Amsha all morning, begging for an audience. A tiny, silky flake, it had settled on his shoulder just as he made to step into the court. ‘Not now,’ he had reprimanded it, brushing it off. Later, when he had settled down for an afternoon nap, it had tried humming into his ear, but once again Amsha had banished it. ‘Come at dusk,’ he had told it, noticing its doleful droop. It had perked up then, quivering all day just outside the door, waiting for the sun to set.

‘All right,’ Amsha snapped his slender fingers, beckoning it and it rushed in, opening its palpitating heart, the notes flowing in such a unique arrangement that the general sat up, alert. ‘You have been holding a message for me all day. Forgive me for dismissing you earlier, my friend. Play on then.’ Encouraged, the raga gave vent to its feelings and Amsha’s soul soared, suffused with an unusual longing.

It was the hour of gaudhool, when the cows returned from the pastures, their hooves churning up golden dust into the rose-coloured sky. He heard their plaintive lowing as they called out to their calves, their bells tinkling across the village green. He listened to the sweetness of wholesome voices raised in evening prayers, to the sputter of lamps twinkling in dusk-darkened windows. And when he heard a soft whistle, he smiled involuntarily. He saw him then, a tall figure holding a long staff across bare shoulders, his feet lightly pressing down the mud.

The cowherd stopped, brown eyes crinkling at the corners, the dipping sun a halo behind his head. ‘I am coming home, my friend,’ he said. ‘Look out for me,’ and whistling softly, he slowly faded into the haze.

Its work done, the raga fell silent, slipping back into the flute. Amsha opened his window to the loud chirrup of crickets and the twittering of birds preparing for the night. He looked up at the darkening sky, at the stars beginning to shine. ‘You are alive?’ He frowned, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Could the raga be mistaken?’ A hush fell over the garden, and in the sudden quiet, he heard the pounding beat of thousands of hooves, the strident war cry of an approaching army. ‘It is true then!’ His face broke into a smile. ‘But, of course! A pure raga is always right.’

Too distracted by spring, Yamathig did not notice the faint tremors vibrating gently through its ridge. The season had sprung out of Nirmohi’s cave, scattering a variety of flowers all over the trees and shrubs, their fluffy, bright heads nodding in the breeze. The mountains sighed, luxuriating in their velvety touch, prodding the Vijaya Dal and the brigade to settle down. And they obeyed, falling into a somnolent silence, stretching their aching limbs contentedly.

It had been a successful morning, scaling the tallest peak without ropes, using only handholds to hoist themselves up. The descent had been easier, urged as they had been by the happy gurgles of the baby echoing from below. They lay down now on the cushion of matted grass, the sun warming them, indulgently watching the infant crawl amongst the flowers.

The child tumbled, but even before Dharaa could get to her feet, Lushai reached the baby in one bound. Everyone leapt up. ‘The mountains are shaking,’ they said, feeling the vibrations coursing through the bedrock. The tramp of marching feet became audible as also the thunder of hooves.

‘I say it’s an army on the march,’ Tota shouted, running towards a cliff they had named ‘the lookout point’, ‘and if I am wrong, I’ll cook every meal this week.’

‘That is quite a large force,’ muttered an officer. Crowded on the cliff, they watched it raise a mighty dust. ‘Indeed, an impressive infantry,’ Tota observed, trying to assess the numbers of the never-ending columns of foot soldiers.

‘What is that?’ Every eye followed Riju’s pointing finger, to the rider in the front leading the army. Behind him, on his saddle, rested a flat plank bearing a torch burning with an unusual fire, multi-coloured just like a rainbow. The rider raised his hand, signalling a halt.

Tota peered around the rock face, narrowing his eyes to see better. ‘There are cavalry regiments too! And if I am not mistaken, those large shapes in the distance are elephants. This is an army going to war,’ he breathed. A loud whinny interrupted him.

‘It is sire’s horse,’ shouted Lushai from the makeshift stable, desperately hanging on to the reins. ‘He is trying to get away. I don’t know what has gotten into him.’ Rearing up, the stallion pawed the air with its front legs. Tota spun from the horse to the rider far below, a miniature man.

‘Do you think it’s him?’ the brigade clamoured. ‘Do you think he has returned?’

‘I am going down to see for myself,’ Riju announced, edging towards the narrow path leading off the cliff.

‘Wait!’ Tota smiled slowly. ‘I have a better idea. Lushai,’ he called out, ‘let go off the horse.’

Shaking his mane, the stallion charged through the thicket and galloped down the slope, snorting loudly. The miniature figure looked up and quickly dismounted, running up to the horse.

‘Easy boy,’ Saahas laughed, catching the reins. ‘You look very well! Hey, what’s the matter?’

The horse tossed its head, refusing to let him come near, fretting and stamping its feet. ‘You know it is me. Of course, you do!’ He stretched out a hand, but once again the horse snorted, turning its head away, eyes rolling dangerously. ‘Are you sulking?’ Dropping his voice to a murmur, he approached it cautiously. ‘I am sorry, boy. Sorry for leaving you but I couldn’t have put your life in danger.’ He caught one ear in a gentle grip, speaking into it softly, ‘I would have never forgiven myself had something happened to you.’ The stallion grunted, dropping its head, quivers running up its legs. Saahas caught its face between his hands and blew into the flaring nostrils. ‘All right, I won’t ride the Ugr horse anymore. Now, do be a good boy.’

‘It is sire!’ Overjoyed, the brigade jumped up and down on the cliff, throwing their arms around each other. ‘That’s his way of greeting his horse,’ they explained to Riju and Dharaa, their voices throbbing with emotion, ‘blowing into its nose.’

‘Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go and meet him.’ Riju turned and ran, the rest of them at his heels.

‘Wait for me,’ cried Lushai, stumbling, tears blurring his sight.

‘Sire,’ they shouted, careening towards the road. ‘You’ve come back to us, our lord, our king, you have returned.’ With their feet barely touching the ground, they vaulted over streams and sprang down knolls, their joyous screams resonating in Yamathig’s bones.

Spreading his arms out wide, Saahas waited to embrace them all and when they shot out from under cover of the greenery, pouncing on him like ecstatic puppies, he roared with laughter, eagerly looking into each face, noticing the sorrowing hope, the elation, the relief. The brigade caught him up, tossing him up into the air several times, as it had been wont to do in the past. There wasn’t a single dry eye, and Bhuma blinked away surreptitious tears. There wasn’t a single unsmiling face, the soldiers of Purvichi revelling in every moment of the grand reunion. And there wasn’t a single heart left untouched, each person uplifted by the current of deep affection.

‘Hail King Saahasvajra,’ the brigade chorused. ‘Victory to the true King of Aum.’

The entire force picked up the chant, each soldier raising his weapon to the sky. ‘Victory to King Saahasvajra, victory to Aum,’ the trumpet of elephants punctuating every cry.

‘Hail Aum,’ Saahas intoned, over and over again, the rainbow flame growing taller with his every chant and when the reverberations of ‘Aum’ faded, the flame diminished, dropping back to its original size. A figure scuttled through the tight group, falling at Saahas’s feet.

‘Lushai!’ He hugged the weeping servant. ‘No more tears, dear fellow. This is a happy occasion.’

Sniffling into his sleeve, Lushai appraised his master keenly. ‘You are too thin,’ he remarked, his tone severe, mouth pulling down in its characteristic manner.

The brigade burst into merry laughter and Saahas, a naughty twinkle in his eye, introduced the two manservants to each other. ‘This means trouble,’ he muttered in Tota’s ear, wiggling his eyebrows at their bristling, wary faces.

‘You are to blame,’ Riju laughingly retorted and Saahas glanced at him appreciatively.

‘I want to hear all about how you came to be here. I am glad you did and found Tota and the brigade. You look—’ he stopped searching for words, ‘like a warrior!’

‘And so he should, bhaiyya! You have been our inspiration.’

Saahas spun around. ‘Dharaa,’ he exclaimed, his eyes widening. A band of women approached him, their leader lithe and strong, a wriggling bundle on her hip. Dharaa bent to touch his feet, the infant pushing out its arms and legs, trying to free itself from her firm clasp. ‘You both never fail to amaze me,’ Saahas declared, moving quickly to take the baby from her.

No more than six months old, the child tucked in its chin, holding itself back, all the better to look into the stranger’s eyes. ‘The confidence of a lion cub,’ Saahas chuckled, tapping a light finger on the button nose. ‘I am your uncle, young man. What name have you given him?’

Dharaa and Riju exchanged a smiling glance before chorusing together, ‘We named him Saahas.’

‘So we leave immediately, sire.’ Tota and the brigade rode with Saahas through the column of soldiers, inspecting the regiments.

‘Yes. The Saade Saati ends in four months. I wish to reach the gates of Aham by then.’

‘It shall be done,’ the aide-de-camp’s eyes glinted with the light of battle. ‘We are fighting fit!’

‘I can see that,’ Saahas smilingly rejoined, appraising the bronzed and powerful physiques of his officers.

Tota’s gaze roamed over the much-loved face. The man that he had once known, strong of purpose and determined, had returned. Still, he perceived a subtle difference, a shift in his bearing. Even more regal than before, Saahas walked the earth like a proud owner, the keeper of life, appearing as tall as Yamathig. Awed, Tota murmured to no one in particular, ‘Fearless, that’s what he is.’

‘But naturally,’ replied one of his mates. ‘He is a king and he believes that now, and yet . . .’ the officer shook his head, unable to describe the other-worldly glow in the brown eyes.

Everyone wanted to bask in that light, crowding around him, eager to soak in it. ‘Do you feel it too?’ Riju nudged Dharaa. ‘I look at him and I feel so happy that I want to laugh out loud for no reason.’

Saahas caught them staring, a knowing smile spreading over his face. ‘We will spend many a night talking,’ he told them. ‘I shall regale you with my adventures, all leading to the most exciting one, when I became acquainted with the wonderful Rrum.’

‘Do you mean the colourful flame? We want to hear all about it too, my lord!’

‘What do you mean?’ He stared in astonishment at Riju and Dharaa.

The couple nodded their heads vigorously, ‘We are coming with you. Your war is our war too.’

‘No,’ he said sharply, ‘you have a child now.’

‘Sire, please let me explain,’ Dharaa began, looking at him gravely, ‘the battle for Aum is everyone’s battle. It is for the good of all . . . everywhere. The day that I finished training as a warrior, I knew in my heart that if you returned I would be by your side.’ Placing her hand on his, she added with a bright smile, ‘I want my son to grow up in Aum, bhaiyya, knowing Aum.’