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‘..... huge thimingalas were seen swimming in the raging flood waters.’
The children were too engrossed in the tale to realise thimingalas were not to be found in shallow waters. They were all here to listen to Sanga’s voice narrating the tale of Hastar, the demon god. Sanga was the descendent of story keepers of the tanda. In her words stories came alive. As they did now.
This particular story was about the floods that ravaged their plains every year. By the eternal grace of Parameshwara, they survived without loss of life for over 50 years. And every year as the rains rage making nearly all activities impossible, their people gather at the mandapam to listen to the cautionary tale of Hastar the demon god. It helped to exaggerate a tiny bit. No one wanted the little ones going near the river banks even out of curiosity.
‘Since then the Nadi was prohibited in times of rain and floods. It has been so long since the timmingalas have fed. So long since anyone had ventured close to the edge. They must be reaaally hungry’. Thunder boomed in the background making the narration all the more eerie. Even the adults listened to her in rapture. Sanga took full advantage.
‘Did I mention they have two rows of sharp, gleaming white teeth on both jaws?’ She asked thoughtfully looking at the little faces peering at her in fear. The children nodded. Sagely she nodded in turn at each chubby face looking at her.
‘Now…’ she started with gravitas, ‘who wants a piece of this juicy mamidi?’ Roaring children enveloped her vying for a sweet piece of fruit, Rakshas and Thimingalas temporarily forgotten. With a twinkle in her eye, Sanga looked at her husband, the Cheiftain laughing at her antics with the children.
Once the kids and the older children were entertained and fed they were put to bed in the chieftain’s cottage along with elderly and infirm. Long ago when they first settled on these plains, their forefathers had devised plans to keep them safe from the raging waters. Keeping the dependent’s safe while the able bodied remained alert for any eventuality. Those plans held true through generations. Those strategies saved lives.
The adults gathered around the fire to keep them warm. Now that the children slept the mandapam seemed nearly deserted. The smiles on their faces dimmed. Finally their discussion turned from trivial to salient. The river was on all their minds. The news from the sentinels at the river bank was particularly alarming. “The embankments hold” he paused. “But it’s only a matter of time before the flood over powers it. We need to reinforce them with the new clay mixture that Sambadu has come up with.”
The Chieftain agreed. Just as he was about to say something the giri deepam roared to life. It took them all a moment to realise what they were seeing before everyone went into action. The giri deepam was the emergency beacon communication created to alert them from dangers around the tanda. It hasn’t been lit in 50 years. A long time has passed since the tribe lost a life to the fury of the jeevanadhi.
A party of Sanga and two others hurried to the river bank braving the downpour. As they reached the bank, sentinels on guard hailed them over a reinforced embankment to witness something unbelievable. A two-man canoe was rocking over the river, precariously close to capsizing. The dark and considerable rain hindered their view but it appeared to be rowed by a single person.
“Parameshwara!”
The woman’s voice reverberated with authority and fury reaching them over the gushing river and raging storm. Thunder rumbled through the forest drowning the woman’s plea. Sanga stood transfixed as the lightning illuminated the canoe just as it capsized ,throwing its inhabitants into the churning madness of the river. The woman wasn’t alone.
Sanga’s heart stopped as she realised there was a wee baby in the woman’s arms. She reached towards the spectacle, her hand outstretched, as if she had the power to reach out and stop their canoe from turning over. In a second she snapped back.
“Sarwa! Ready the ropes! We need to”- she got cut off by him.
“Sanga stop! This is madness! You know we can’t risk people over them. We don’t know anything about the situation. We cannot put our own at risk.”
Rage coursed through her veins. “How could you say that? There are two people perilously close to death who could be saved if we act now! This is not the time for cowardice Sarwa! We need to help them now.”
The wind howled all around them, the rain pouring down in a torrent. Sanga could feel time slipping away from them. The chieftain’s fierce face showed the battle within. She knew what kept him from leaping into action. Being a chieftain meant his people came first. But she also knew the kind of human her husband is. He could never abandon anyone that needed help. Sanga could see the moment he made up his mind. With a nod, he turned around to find his sentinels waiting for his command.
While her Sarwa prepared an impossible rescue, Sanga created a little tent of leaves and branches fallen on the ground just a little further from the embankments. Torches were lit under huge trees that partially shielded them from the downpour. The healers who came with her readied to handle the woman and the baby once they came ashore. Sanga knew not what desperation drove the woman to the horrifying depths of jeevanadhi. Sanga prayed they could still be helped. That they were not too late already. ‘Shiva! Show mercy over these poor souls!’
Shouts erupted as the rescue mission picked up pace. In no time the harnesses were bought and men got ready to take to the rope bridge. The bridge was off limits to all during floods. Very few people knew the brilliance of the rope bridge lay on the undersurface where a virtual horizontal ladder was put in place to be used in case of such adversities. It took great courage and strength to navigate this crawl across when a river raged beneath but her people succeeded. The woman was very nearly drowned. She held onto a piece of log anchoring herself to the river bed, holding the baby with one hand outstretched over her head while the river drowned her. They reached the woman just as another surge of flood water hit her nearly pulling her along.
Once on the shore, the woman and the baby were carried to the makeshift tent. The healers’ quick steady hands took over the care of the infirm. Sanga stayed close. Her heart cried out seeing the little wet, pale bundle on the ground in front of her. Her healers say he couldn’t be more than a day old, his umbilical cord stump still too raw for him to have healed at all. The heartbeat was steady even though his breaths were still laboured, probably from the cold water that could have gone into his lungs at the near drowning experience.
The woman on the other hand had been drowned for longer. Her wet hair streaked around her head and face, greying at the roots. They said her heart had stopped and that her lungs were filled up with water to allow in air. Tears filled her eyes as nothing they did made the woman breathe. The healers started thumping her chest as a last ditch effort to shock the heart into beating. For a split second everything around them paused. They witnessed the woman cough up a stream of water, her eyes opening and darting around like that of a startled animal. She slipped into a state of sleep right after, her heart beating sluggishly, her breathing laboured. The healers didn’t give her any odds of survival. Her will was the only thing fighting for her.
.......
(A few years later…. )
“Shivudu! What is wrong with you? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
An enraged Sanga sprinted behind a laughing Shivudu as he darted between houses trying to escape the butt whooping he was sure to get if she got hold of him. Sanga didn’t actually hate getting old but the one thing she did hate now was how fast she got winded. Her joints ached and she was out of breath too easily. _He’s going to be the death of me_. She thought as she chased after him.
“Shivudu!! Come here this instant!”
It was the third time in a year that he had pulled this stunt.
A few years ago Shivudu’s interest in the jeevanadi took a dangerous turn. He became obsessed with the river, it’s origin. He traced the river upstream and ended up at the gigantic waterfall that fed the monster. His curiosity was such that he started scaling the steep, slippery slope. The steep, cascading waters had never abated. A perennial Ganga that the tribes believed is a gift from their deity Shivayya. The sheer rock face has no footholds. Years of flowing water had eroded the rock face. Yet, her Shivudu attempted this madness at every opportunity.
Exhausted, Sanga gave up hunting her son and went to the one place guaranteed to set her mind at peace. No one knew who the woman they had rescued all those years ago was. She never told them her story and they never asked. Her recovery took nearly a year. All she said in the initial days was that her name was Bhairavi and that the infant in her arms was her grandson. Amma never shared what happened to Shivudu’s birth parents and she had never pried. She had given her and the chieftain the greatest gift of their lives. Their son. Prone to illness Amma chose to stay close to the healers and helped people in the tanda in anyway she could. Approaching the quaint cottage close to Ayurshala, Sanga hailed.
“Amma! Amma! Choosava ni manavadu?”
Soft laughter emanated from within. The sound of anklets, faint fragrance of crushed sandalwood and fresh malle flowers wafted through the air. The remnants of Shiva Pooja just concluded.
As Sanga made her way to the courtyard, a statuesque figure emerged from within. Holding a cane to support her already weak heart, Bhairavi amma made her way to sanga.
Smiling at the woman she considered a daughter, Amma asked , “What did he do now Sanga ?”
“He has attempted to scale the jalapatam. Again.”
Bhairavi Amma’s smile dipped. She contemplated this news as she headed towards the courtyard. She finally asked Sanga.
“How far did he go this time?”
Aghast, Sanga looked at Amma with her mouth hanging open.
Amma’s eyes danced with mirth all though her face didn’t show a smile.
“Come on Sanga. Even you should have thought about it. Your competitive streak is legendary.”
“He’s nearly reached the Divide. He’s just tall enough to swing up there.” Sanga admitted sheepishly.
Amma sat on the bench at the edge of her cottage facing her garden, inviting Sanga to sit with her. The setting sun cast a mellow glow over the vegetation surrounding them. Scent of jasmine swirled around them. She gazed ahead contemplating. In her presence Sanga has always felt more relaxed, centered.
A defeated sigh left Sanga’s lips. “What am I to do , Amma? If he keeps it up he’s going to end up falling to his death at the foot of that waterfall!”
Amma smiled a little “I remember hearing that you were the leading prankster until.. well, until your kid beat you to it.”
“That has nothing to do with anything!”,she answered indignantly.
Chuckling, Amma turned to her. “You are right. But my Baahu….” , she trailed, her smile dimming.
“Amma….”
“My Shivudu is as spirited as you, my daughter. He’s growing to be as strong and as brave as his father.” She continued with a determined smile on her face. “But you are right. He needs rules and he needs to learn the virtue of patience.”
Sighing, Sanga held on to Amma’s hand. “Rules, Amma? When has he ever followed rules ?”
That made Amma laugh out loud. “But he will follow them if you set them Sanga. You know that.” She said with devilish gleam in her eyes.
Sanga laughed at Amma’s ingenuity. Their plan was foolproof. Promising to bring her news tomorrow, she left Amma’s cottage and made way towards her own.
After Sanga left her cottage Bhairavi Amma continued looking at the sky. The sun had finally set, drenching the world around her in the darkness of twilight. All her thoughts were on her son. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking how he would have reacted to his son pulling this stunt? Or his wife? Baahu would join him of course. She had no doubt about it. Devasena would just speak her mind and call them both idiots for being reckless. Later she would study the challenge and probably scale the whole thing just to show them it could be done without all the fuss. Eswara! She sighed.
She struggled to get up and stand on her feet even with the help of her kane. Her health had deteriorated rapidly over the years. Little walks winded her and even a hint of chill in the air made her cough and wheeze. Guilt ate at her. For her role in snatching away his parents, his birthright as the rightful heir to the throne of Mahishmathi. All this time that she has been alive after taking a plunge into jeevanadhi has but one purpose. To make sure her grandson was alive and looked after. Return of this exiled King to his rightful throne, she left in the hands of God.
Īśvarēccha.
..............
(Later that night…..)
Shivudu hesitated to enter his home. The oil lit lamps swayed in the gentle breeze. The scents and sounds of Amma’s evening Pooja indicated the presence of his mother to him. Amma was livid as she chased him around the tanda. It was by sheer luck that he had been able to escape her ire. He was ready to apologise, grovel, do anything that meant she’d cool down.
“Amma….?” He called out.
“Ikkada.”
“Amma I’m really sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll be extra careful the next time. I told you I wasn’t hurt. See?. I’m really not hurt at all…” words just poured out of him as he went towards her. Usually it was his father who took issue with all his shenanigans. His mother was a co-conspirator. It really didn’t make any sense at all.
Amma was sitting in front of the mandapam, facing away from him. She gestured for him to sit beside her. He couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting.
“Will you tell me why climbing up to the top of the waterfalls is so important to you Shivudu? I want to know.”
“Ummm ..” he started. Shocked that Amma asked at all. “Um. It’s impossible isn’t it? It’s the story you tell the little ones to keep them in line. I want to see what’s so impossible about it. And when I scale it I can brag about it!” He shoved down that kernel of guilt that threatened to get a full confession out of him. Some things were just too embarrassing to share even to one’s Amma.
“Hmm. Glory and guts. That’s what you are after? Like the warriors and knights protecting a kingdom?”
“Yes Amma! I want to be the Knight in our little village.”
Still contemplating, Amma asked “ Do you remember the stories Nayanamma told you?”
“You mean the Knights of Kritunga? The Princess and the Cowherd? Yes!”
“Tell me the best qualities of the knights nanna. What did Bhairavi Amma teach you?”
“Well, they were all very strong, they protected the kingdom at all costs. They served the king and the kingdom with utmost loyalty. Their promises were for life and never broken.”
A soft smile played on Amma’s lips. She said “Nanna, why weren’t you able to complete your “quest” this time? You should have thought about the reasons. Will you share them with me?”
“I wasn’t tall enough!” He said with indignation. At thirteen he was the tallest boy in their thanda. But it still didn’t make it easy for him to reach his destination. “I got tired easily”. He added sheepishly.
“Right. It took the Knights in the story years of rigorous training to cultivate their skills. They had to work hard to reach their goal. You will have to work harder to achieve yours because there’s no one that’s done it before. The first step is always the hardest.”
Sanga looked at him steadily and continued. “You are not ready for this challenge yet. Even if your heart is set on it your body is not ready to survive it. You need training, knowledge and patience to scale that monster.”
“But Amma if I don’t practice every chance I get how am I going to climb to the top?”
“You are right, nanna. But if you continue to do as you have been doing you are more likely to fall to your death than safely climb up.” And every time you do this my heart seizes and one of these days it really might be permanent. She added internally.
Earnest eyes looked back at her. She knew he was thinking hard about it. That was all she wanted. Because her boy, for all his mischief, was wise and thoughtful beyond years. He listened. He tried to understand different perspectives and was never adamant without reason.
Finally he said “I’m not ready for this challenge. I need to train and work harder. But I can’t just not climb the jalapatham. It sings to me Amma! What am I to do?”
Gently brushing his hair she said, “I’m not banning you from trying to climb the waterfall. I propose that you try this expedition once every year. Once a year to test how far you can go without exhausting your limits and to test all the training you will undergo throughout that year. To assess and know yourself better.”
His eyes went round and his mouth gaped like a fish as he tried to wrap his mind around this astounding proposal of his mother’s. Once a year ? How was that even possible? The jalapatham haunted his dreams. It wasn’t just that he wanted to be the first to do this because no one else had done it before. That waterfall gave him things. A broken arrow. Torn and discarded scabbard with strange letters engraved on it. Pieces of fabric the likes of which he’d never seen before in his life. He hadn’t shown anyone. The entire village believed that beyond that waterfall was heaven. Kailasam! They said. But if what he found was any indication, there were people in this so-called heaven. And he needed to see them!
Surprised at the depth of his distress Sanga amended her first proposal. “Shivudu I know how much this means to you. But please understand that I do this for you. To make you strong enough to fulfill this dream of yours. Once a year…. until you turn eighteen.” She added as he listened in rapt attention. “After that you may try any number of times and I won’t stop you.”
“That means I get to try five times till I turn eighteen and I wouldn’t have to face your ire or make you unnecessarily anxious?” He calculated. After eighteen it was as many times as he wished.
“Yes.” Amma nodded. Holding her son’s face in her hands Sanga gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Do you agree, Shivudu?” She asked, looking him in the eye.
“Yes Amma. I agree to these conditions.” He answered just as his stomach grumbled loudly. Laughing, Amma looked at a blushing Shivudu who started fidgeting again.
“Nanna! Why haven’t said anything about being this hungry? I have to feed this beast now, haven’t l?” She laughed. “Come let’s go have the deer meat I cooked for you just the way you like it.”
“Meat? You cooked meat for me today ?! Amma! Why didn’t you say so?”
As Sanga led Shivudu chattering on about how it was unfair to bribe him with food of all things, she couldn’t help smiling to herself at her small victory. At eighteen, she figured he’d be too tired and exhausted to continue trying to scale the monster. She was proud of his son and always believed in him but the task he set himself is insurmountable. Bhairavi Amma was right. Shivudu was growing to be a very special young man. He was loyal, logical and innately wired to understand perspectives. His antics make her heart stop at least once everyday and he gets out of any reprimand with oodles of charm. She had to plan this little expedition with the dexterity of a general! And yet she wouldn’t change a single thing about him. Her son was not just a Knight as he thought himself to be. He was her little Prince.