twenty-five

Hastings wasn’t in the room. A woman sat on the bed, terrified. Rama took one quick look around before he turned to her.

‘Where is Hastings?’ he asked, almost desperately.

‘He hasn’t yet arrived,’ the frightened woman answered. ‘What happened to him?’

Rama didn’t reply immediately. He stumbled with Mohan to the bed and placed him on it before he went back to the door and locked it. ‘Is he in this house?’ he asked the woman.

‘No. He is in one of the other buildings,’ she replied, slightly calmer. ‘What’s going on? Why are you here? And why is he bleeding?’

‘He has been shot.’ Rama pulled a sheet off the bed, ripped it into strips and tied them Mohan’s midsection to staunch the blood.

‘What do we do now Rama? He isn’t here.’ Mohan mumbled, weakly.

‘I have to get you out of here. I can get to him some other day.’

‘Ah, but I’m going to die anyway. Leave me here and go after him. Don’t waste this opportunity.’

‘I can’t do that.’ As he said this, Rama heard the unmistakable sounds of guards arriving downstairs.

Pulling out another sheet from the bed, Rama ran to the open balcony and quickly tied it around the banister. He then ran to Mohan, propped him up on his shoulder and stumbled back to the balcony. ‘Brace yourself, Mohan. I’ll tie you to my back.’

Mohan nodded weakly. Rama knew his friend didn’t have much time. He had to get out of the fort fast. He climbed onto the banister and over the other side; Mohan somehow held on. As soon as they reached the ground, the pair hobbled over to the stables. Inside were three huge and magnificent horses. Rama leaned Mohan against the door carefully before running into the closest stall, where a large grey Arab stallion was stabled. He threw the horse’s saddle on its back and buckled the straps. The horse offered no resistance. He led the horse towards the door and, after helping Mohan up, climbed on the horse behind him. They were off in an instant.

Rama knew that none of the gates would be open and even if he managed to climb out through a drain, they would have to get out of the moat and across the maidan, the large lawn outside the fort, on foot. His only hope was the river. He rode his horse out of the stable just as three soldiers turned around the house and ran towards him, raising their muskets in aim. Rama didn’t hesitate for even a moment as he ploughed right into them. One of the muskets did go off, but it was a wild shot.

Rama rode towards the fort wall, and the western gate. Although the gate would be locked, he decided he would go up the ramp to the very top, and jump off at the westernmost tip, where the fort walls touched the Hoogly.

His passage up the first ramp to the first rampart was uninterrupted, but once he got there, he was fired upon by all the guards. Rama continued riding, trying to get to the second level, where a part of the bulwark overlooked the river. As he rode up the second ramp, a bullet thudded into his right shoulder.

The pain was blinding but it was only for a moment, as the adrenalin kicked in a moment later and Rama realized that he needed to concentrate a little more. As he rode on, he could hear the shouts of the soldiers who were chasing them up the ramp. Rama reached the second tier and the first thing he saw was the Hoogly. He quickly rode across the walkway to the other side and looked down. Two hundred feet below him, the Hoogly crashed into the walls of Fort William. Mohan moaned and fell forward, clutching the horse’s neck. Rama would need to move, and fast.

He took a deep breath and led his horse back to the mouth of the ramp. He saw the hordes of red blazers running up the ramp towards him. Turning his horse back towards the river, Rama geed up his horse and was off in a flash. The wall came up quickly and Rama dropped his wrists a little, letting the reins go slack as he leaned forward, egging the horse on.

And the stallion complied. As his steed leapt into the air, Rama looked down at the Hoogly. It was quite deep, he would be all right. He heard many loud shots fired behind him, and suddenly, something thudded into his back. Rama started falling down.

He was sitting on Marina Beach with Sita next to him and little Pattabhi playing in the sand, digging a hole through which his hand reached in, all the way to his shoulder. He proudly called his father’s attention to this.

Sita had her head on his shoulder. Her hair smelt like fresh hay, mingled with the sandalwood smell of her skin. She had her arms around his waist and he had his around hers as they sat on the empty beach that beautiful morning and watched the sun rise.

The Sri chakra was safe. His father had made sure that not a living soul knew where it was, and that meant it would stay away hidden until the gods felt it was ready to surface on the planet. That wasn’t his problem. His duty now remained for him to love his family and take care of them. His father had released him of his burden. Sita kissed his neck, and gave a little sigh of contentment.

Little Pattabhi ran towards the sea. Rama called out to him not to enter the water. He turned back and smiled reassuringly at his father. Rama smiled back, and then looked down at his darling Sita.

Where was she? There was nobody next to him, and his hands felt wet. He looked down at them. They were red. Why were they red?

Suddenly he saw a form lying in the sand a few feet away. He went over. Who was it? It wasn’t Sita, just a man lying face down on the ground. Who was it? He turned the man over. It was Mohan! His stomach was bleeding, but he looked up at Rama with a happy smile.

‘At least we did it together,’ he said through tears.

But Rama didn’t understand. Did what? Wasn’t everything all right? He looked towards the sea, where his son had been playing. Ah, there was Sita, walking along the sea holding their little son’s hand, but why did she look so different? He looked at her closely.

Her head was shaved, he realized with horror. Her head was shaved! But how? Why?

He looked back at the sun, and then he remembered.

He had failed.