Rama, the eldest son of the Great King Dasarath of Ayodhya, and the rightful heir to his throne was living in exile in a thatched hut deep in the forests called Dandakaranya along with his devout wife Sita and loyal brother Laxman. They were quietly content with the humble existence which seemed to have been ordained. They practiced simplicity religiously in all aspects of their life and never complained over a thing at all. Or so did everyone believe. Their life in the wild was going on peacefully until one day disaster struck and changed everything.
It was a hot Sunday afternoon in the middle of May. Rama had just finished an excellent lunch comprising country-style rabbit and home-made mohwa liquor and was lying on the cot turning the pages of a tribal fashion magazine preparing himself for his all important siesta. As he was drooling over the glossy pictures of supermodel Udumbaa showing off the latest banana-leaf brassiere and dove-feather miniskirt, he was alarmed by the sound of quick footsteps. In a hurry he slid the magazine under the pillow and pretended to whistle unmindfully as Sita entered in all excitement.
“What’s the matter sweetheart?” he asked.
Sita took a moment to catch her breath. “You won’t believe what Laxman and I saw while we were playing Ludo in the backyard! Oh! Amazing…I still can’t believe it…how many beautiful ornaments I can have now! Yuhoo! I am so happy!” she said clasping her fists in glee.
Rama was well familiar with his wife’s habit of rambling on hysterically about any event worth a mild exclamation and it would often be half an hour before she even got to the point. So he just said: “Calm down honey! And tell me exactly what you saw.”
The wife started again: “Oh you won’t believe it! I saw a glittering golden stag…the whole of it made of gold…from the hoofs to the horns – golden body, golden legs, golden eyelids, a short golden tail…”
“And a pair of golden goolies too?”- Rama interrupted with a naughty chuckle.
An agitated Sita screamed back “You dirty-minded fool! Can’t you ever listen to me with seriousness? Me and Laxman…we both saw…it was grazing and jumping around in the bushes near the backyard. But then suddenly it scampered off back into the woods.” Sita’s rude tone abruptly turned mellifluous as she continued “Darling! I rarely ask anything of you. Remember our courtship days when you used to come cycling down to Mithila Girl’s college to romance me. I used to dream through rose-tinted glasses those days. You could marry me only because I had asked my maid to secretly switch off the power to the giant electromagnet when you took your turn on lifting the Shiv Dhanush, remember? But what happened after that? Right after our marriage we had to cancel our tickets for
Rama was reluctant though and so he said “Okay baby, but my aim has become a bit rusty these days, you know. Let me send brother Laxman. After all he does all the hunting of rabbits and stealing hens from the tribal households…he is in much better shape I think and he has never been less of a Kshatriya (person of the warrior clan) than me you know.”
Sita was left fuming in rage. “I don’t trust any of your brothers!” she shouted. “They are all slimy thieves. If Laxman catches it he will run away with that fortune just like your sweet brother Bharat who came visiting us and returned with bags of mangoes and lichies and your expensive pair of Adidas shoes! So get your lazy bum moving right now or else you know how my broom works like a magic wand in such matters.”
Left with no choice Rama picked up his bow and quiver of arrows from the corner of the room and stepped out in search of the golden stag grumbling to himself.
With the scorching sun above his head Rama, the brave warrior scoured the woods for a long time but there was no sight of the stag. He finally arrived near a lake where he put down his bow under a banyan tree and decided to take a nap. A little while later in half-awake state he felt a wet tickling sensation in his belly button. As the blurred vision became more prominent he realized it was the golden stag standing right in front of him and licking his tummy! But even more amazing was that the animal was shedding its color! Patches of golden paint were dripping down its wet legs – it must have been drinking water in the lake. In a moment Rama realized someone had played a prank. But who could it be he wondered.
He got up and started trudging back home mumbling expletives at the unknown prankster. But he had only taken a dozen paces when something lurking in the grass caught his left foot and before he could say the word “Mama!” he found himself dangling upside down by a rope tied to the branch of a tree. It was a man trap laid by the cannibals in the forest – one of their favorite and effective modes of procuring delicious intra-species nourishment. Terrified at the morbid thought of such a ghastly end to his carefully maintained physique Rama screamed at the top of his voice “Help! Help! Brother Laxman! My darling Sita! Save me!”
Rama’s piercing cries for help did not go unheard. Sita flustered around Laxman and asked him to rush off to help his brother. Laxman was a gallant man no doubt but he did truly believe in the adage: discretion is the better part of valor. It made little sense to him to sacrifice two young souls when one of them could be safely preserved. So he cooked up some nice excuse and said: “Sita, how can I leave you here alone amidst all the dangers of this great forest? It is my duty to protect you above everything and I am not going anywhere. My brother is a great warrior and he will take care of himself.”
Sita always had a cynical view of Laxman’s motives and she was damn irritated at his woeful excuse. “Hmmm…I always knew you had designs on me.” she said venting her ire. “I knew it from day one. That’s the reason you followed us into these forests. You must have been waiting for this moment you ugly bastard! I often caught you peeping at me in the kitchen but I ignored it. Now I see what a lewd scoundrel you are!”
Sita wasn’t too far off the mark with her observation; after all a woman’s intuition is dead accurate in such matters. Laxman did cast a glance at her cleavage from the corner of his eye a few times maybe but it was really harmless. However he couldn’t tolerate such a serious allegation about fostering a wicked ambition and so he made up his mind to go in search of Rama no matter what happened to him. But he also had to convince Sita about the genuineness of his intentions. Being a superstitious man he pulled out a stick, and etched out a great circle on the ground surrounding the hut and solemnly declared: ”If my faith is pure then any evil soul who dares to cross this circle would be burned alive!” With such a great exhibition of melodrama he finally left to look for his brother in the woods.
Meanwhile Ravana, who was the conjurer of the golden-stag trick, was hiding himself nearby behind the shrubs while keeping an eye on all these events as they unfolded. He was reveling at the grand success of his plans so far and thought this to be the opportune moment to execute his final act.
Being the king of Sri Lanka Ravana was a stinking rich fellow and had at his disposal a majestic palace built by the famous Russian architect Maidanov apart from several island resorts, a wide collection of luxury cars and all the pleasures of life. But all this wealth seemed to have no worth if he couldn’t have Sita, the woman he really adored. Having missed out on her in the Swayambar (Who’s Gonna Be My Hubby) ceremony, he was besotted with the idea of marrying her somehow and spent most of his time drawing up devilish plans to wrest her from the arms of the undeserving pauper, Rama. Everything is fair in love and war - he thought to himself. Inspired by the character of Shah Rukh Khan in his favorite movie, Darr he just wanted to have his object of desire, by persuasion or by force.
Disguised as a bearded old monk he approached the hut. As he gingerly stepped over the line drawn by Laxman…well let’s just say he wasn’t exactly burnt alive! Sorry to disappoint all those who swear by the name of black magic, voodooism, mumbo-jumbo – miracles don’t work anymore. Ravana stood at the doorstep and started yelling ”Give it to me in the name of Allah, gimme in the name of Maula” for those were the time tested professional lines for all beggars. In a while the door opened and out came Sita. Ravana’s heart skipped with joy, his inside melted at the sight of his gorgeous love! But so melted the glue around his right cheek and off came the false beard from the sides! Before he could say or do anything Sita’s soft palm had left its imprint on his cheek with a slap of savage ferocity. Ravana was in tears. Seeing the tall, dark macho hunk in such a feeble emotional state Sita felt a touch of sympathy in her heart and wanted to know what he was up to.
They went inside the hut and shared the sorrows and miseries of their lives. It turned out from this conversation that both of them were such unhappy oppressed souls – Sita banished to a wretched life of poverty ever since her marriage, a life devoid of the royal pleasures she was used to and Ravana on the other hand, for all his massive fortune, felt so lonely and incomplete without the love of the one woman he obsessively craved. “I have often wondered about divorcing this good for nothing hubby of mine but I would have nowhere to go.” Sita complained with tears rolling down. Her heart was swept away by the intensity of Ravana’s love besides the little material benefits of being with a rich guy. Ravana couldn’t believe his luck and he seized the chance to take the dainty little creature in his manly embrace. With little coaxing Sita was ready to flee with him, out of the bounds of a dreadful marriage which was never rewarding enough.
So the new pair of love-birds ran off to the helipad by the riverside where Ravana’s personal pilot was waiting with his private jet.
It has been heard that a great white bird Jatayu caused a little trouble during their flight by trying to hit the engine and was mutilated to death. But then no such bird is ever mentioned by Salim Ali in his books. So the sensible reader would do well not to place much credence in such rumors.
2 comments:
Travesty Of Truth! Sacrilege! Blasphemy!
Great work.
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