nineteen

The Sri chakra was not in Tirumala. There were no more clues as to where it might have been hidden. Rama and Mohan had decided to set off down the hill as soon as they discovered that it was not there. It was an hour to daybreak when they got out of the temple, and they had barely got out of the temple town when Mohan decided that he needed a break.

They sat by the side of the path watching the pilgrims making their way out of the town. Their break-in would not be discovered. They took nothing, and locked the door behind them. Rama showed Mohan his father’s letter, and after reading it Mohan said, ‘There. Now that we know the chakra is safe, we can get on with our lives.’

‘Yes, but Hastings is still alive,’ Rama pointed out sullenly.

‘Rama, it’s not worth it,’ Mohan repeated wearily. ‘Hastings is too powerful and much too well-guarded for us to be able to get to him.’

‘But Mohan, I know Fort St. George well,’ Rama exclaimed petulantly.

‘So what, Rama? We are still just two people going up against the entire might of the British forces in Madras. I realized what a stupid scheme it was after I saw what happened in Haider Ali’s camp. We had no plan, and no way to get out.’

‘If Haider had not shouted …’ Rama began.

‘What did you want him to do? Welcome us? Come on Rama, we can’t succeed.’

Rama said nothing for a while. It seemed as though he was meditating on Mohan’s words. Finally he said, ‘I guess you’re right Mohan. Come on, let’s go back home.’

The drive back to Chitoor was uneventful. It was almost evening when they reached the gates of Chitoor, and though Rama begged Mohan to stay the night, before leaving, Mohan refused. He knew he would not be welcome in Rama’s in-laws’ house. In any case, his own parents would be missing him very much, he pointed out.

‘At least take the carriage,’ Rama begged.

‘No, thank you,’ Mohan replied. ‘I would get rid of it if I were you.’

‘How will you go back home?’

‘I’ll get a ride.’

Rama sat with his friend till a cart arrived that was going to Kanchipuram. The driver, a friendly, toothless old gentleman, seemed delighted to have company. Especially when the first thing Mohan did upon getting onto the cart was offer to drive. The driver thrust the reins into his hand gratefully, and kept muttering about how famously they would get along.

Rama went to a little food stall that stood by the city gates. He hadn’t eaten anything since the previous afternoon and he would need a lot of strength for his next task. He didn’t want to meet his wife right now. Better it be presumed he was with Mohan rather than that he was alone.

Rama climbed back into the carriage and whipped the horses. He was off, headed to Madras and Hastings. He couldn’t be satisfied until he had completed his revenge. Rama drove all night, only taking breaks to rest the horses, till he reached the city of Madras. He abandoned the carriage some distance outside the city and rode in on horseback, leading the other horse. He let the horses go on the outskirts, stripping off their gear and hiding it; if a native rode up on an Arabian steed it would surely excite remark. He then went to an inn for breakfast and decided to rest there—he was dead tired. After breakfast, Rama paid the advance on a room, lay on the cot and was asleep in an instant.

He awoke early the next morning, disoriented and in a state of panic; he had slept almost twenty-four straight hours. It took him a few minutes to recollect where he was and what he was doing there. As his memory returned slowly, Rama tried to make an inventory of his weapons. He would need them that night. He emptied Mohan’s bag onto the cot and examined the contents. There was a crossbow, two daggers, two swords and a quiver full of bolts. There were also about twenty feet of rope, and a shirt. Just then, Rama heard a loud commotion from the street. Looking out of the window, he could see law enforcers clearing the street, as if to make way for a procession. There was a knock on the door. Rama hurriedly packed up his weapons and shoved the bag under the cot. It was the innkeeper’s son.

‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘You sleep heavily. I knocked for lunch and dinner yesterday; you didn’t respond. I must tell you, you have two hours to leave if you want to avoid paying for one more day.’

‘I’ll stay one more day,’ Rama said. ‘Can I pay later?’

‘Sure. Would you like some hot water?’

‘Yes, please. I’ll come down for my bath in an hour. What was all the noise in the street about?’

‘Oh, it was nothing,’ the boy said, as he turned to go. ‘Just the governor general returning to Calcutta.’

‘What?’ Rama shouted, grabbing the boy’s arm.

The attendant looked down at Rama’s hand, surprised. Hastily, Rama let go and apologized. ‘Did you say Hastings was going back to Calcutta?’

‘Yes,’ the boy replied. ‘He has been here for over a month now, you know. So, you are going to come down for your bath in an hour?’

‘No,’ Rama replied. ‘I shall come down now. I have to leave town immediately.’