Her:A Song of Shadows (Part III)

A very loud knocking woke Chhaya that morning. She slowly opened the creaking window of her bedroom and looked outside. She could see three soldiers at their door. One was banging furiously on the wooden door, and the other two waited behind. The door opened, and she could hear the first soldier speak in a gruff voice: “We demand the girl who caused a scene in the market yesterday. We have a criminal charge against her.” “Sir, she did not cause any trouble, she was-” – her mother was cut off by one of the two soldiers who were quiet till now: “Lady, will you bring her out, or do you want us to enter and show you what is what?” Chhaya was wide awake by now. She watched the speaker as he spoke; he seemed to be the oldest of the three. From the window she could not see her mother, but now she could hear her voice, cold like bronze: “You know, my husband is a rider in the royal cavalry; so you can be a little more respectful when you are talking at my door.” The soldiers looked at each other. Then the first one – it looked like he had a scar above his right eye – said evenly, “Ma’am, we understand that, but we have direct orders from the king to bring the girl to the capital. We assure you that your daughter will be safe with us.” The third soldier, tallest of the three, was looking at the house intently. Chhaya shut the window before his eyes fell on her.

She knew she had to play this the right way. She took a moment to wash her face, and quickly put on one of her best dresses, spun of warm and durable material. She knew it would be some time before she could return home again. She had a queer premonition, and grabbed her pair of anklets from the bottom of the trunk. The payals had once belonged to her mother. She put them on hastily, slipped on the sandals, and then rushed to the door.

Her mother was coming in to wake her. Fortunately, the soldiers had not tried to breach the house. One look between mother and daughter made it clear that both were ready for whatever was going to happen now. She went to the door and said, ‘I am Chhaya. You are looking for me?” The soldiers didn’t reply, but surveyed her quietly for a minute. “You are the one who wounded Karkarath?” There was a touch of disbelief in the voice, but she did not bother about it. “I only did what I had to do.” “Well, it is not the citizens’ job to hand out judgement as they want. And we will see who the guilty one is.” The tall one spoke up now, “You are under arrest. You will come to the capital with us now. If you are lucky, your family will get a message about your punishment. Try anything funny, and you are dead.” Chhaya had already seen that all of them carried spears, and a dagger hung at their waist. The older soldier was saying, “We will give you ten minutes, so do whatever you need to do. We don’t carry food for prisoners. It will be a long ride. Hurry up.” Chhaya turned around, but her mother had already disappeared into the kitchen.

It was a quick affair with breakfast. She heard a voice call out from outside – “Ready to go?”  She hugged her mother; grandmother was sleeping, and there was no need to wake her. “Mum, I’m gonna be okay. Don’t worry.”  She went outside, and they tied her hands with a length of jute rope. Then they put her on a horse: she was going to ride with the tall one. Then they mounted, and started off towards the capital.

The sun rose high as the day grew, and soon Chhaya could feel the heat bearing down on her. It was a hot day, and she didn’t have anything covering her head, while the soldiers had turbans. Also, she had never ridden with a strange man before, on the same horse. It was a violating feeling. But she was under arrest, and prisoners cannot complain.

She was hopeful, though. She had heard from her father that the king was a fair ruler. If she told him everything in detail and explain the case, surely, he would understand?

They had barely crossed the borders of the village when something struck her. This wasn’t the road to the capital. The guards rode on quietly, and it was clear that everything was going according to plan. But they were not going to the capital. They were going towards the west, taking her to the old forest.

Chhaya tried her best to keep on a poker face and not start laughing. She had finally realized what the game was. Either these men weren’t soldiers, or they were those ones which are corrupt, using their power to serve their own ends. Well, she could play the game too, she thought. The sun was out of her face now. They had entered the great forest of Dumnigarh.

As they went riding through the jungle, she began to notice the dense trees, the beautiful sheaves of leaves and clusters of flowers, and the chirping of invisible birds. Somehow, she wasn’t worried at all about her fate. She liked coming to the forest, she had done so many times. She was just soaking it all in, when suddenly they stopped. They had come to a clearing in the jungle, and sunlight shone brightly in her eyes.

Chhaya could barely suppress a smile when she saw where they had come. They had brought her to the old temple. Perhaps this was their idea of a secret hideout? She kept her expressions blank. The soldiers ahead of her were sniggering about something, probably about what they would do to her. The horse she was on abruptly stopped. The tall soldier climbed down, and tugged at her skirt, speaking roughly, “Come on, move!” She dropped on her feet, and he pushed her ahead. The other two had got down too, and now they started walking towards the temple. The place was probably three miles from the borders of the village. She could easily walk the distance; in fact, she came here twice every day. But these men didn’t know that.

Along the way the soldiers kept pushing her ahead, trying to trip her and playing other silly tricks, but Chhaya walked unbothered. These were big, armed men and her hands were tied, both literally and figuratively. When they came to the broken gates of the temple, she saw a huge, hunched figure sitting on a rock beside the gates, one arm nursing his side. The figure stood up seeing them, and burst into violent laughter.

 “Tiny girl, you thought you had beaten me? ME? The future king?” Karkarath roared as he laughed. The soldiers were laughing too. It seemed they were thick as thieves. She was taken through the gates, on to the temple yard, and tied to a pillar. She kept quiet. They had tied her very tightly: apparently an untied girl was too much four swarthy men. And then Karkarath stood in front of her, and down came a crashing slap on Chhaya’s face. She rolled her face at the last moment and avoided the worst of it, but it still sent her ears ringing. She felt her mouth with her tongue to see if there was any bleeding. There wasn’t. Yet.

Karkarath was about to deliver another blow, but the older soldier stopped him. “Hey, why waste the goods before using it? Plenty of time to kill her. And if we sell her instead of killing her, we’ll can even share the money between us, eh?” Karkarath waited for a moment, and an ugly smile spread on his face. “When I am done with this bug, no one will want to buy her.” She looked at him quietly. He turned away from her gaze, spat, and walked off. The other two were unpacking some lunch. They would start with her after the meal, she guessed. Then she looked at the ancient idol of the goddess, one she met every day. It was supposed to be a statue of Parvati, but she had always felt like the idol looked a lot more like Kali. Was it one of those odd riddles of history? Had her grandfather still been alive, she could have asked. Now she looked at the idol, faintly visible inside the old shrine; and it gave her an idea.

Soon they were back. Their bellies were full and now they were going to take it slow. Karkarath was the first one to come forward. ‘Now, little heroine?” he laughed, and just as she expected, he slapped her across her face again. She could hear the soldiers laughing.

“We should have brought your mom along too,” the scarred man said. “Yes, they’d have made a nice pair – the over-smart daughter and her mouthy mother,” said the tall fellow. Karkarath asked, “What did she say to you?” “Oh, just some steam about her husband being in the cavalry.” Karkarath spat, and said “Cavalry my foot! I can kill this insect’s daddy with my bare hands. He is lucky that he is not here.” The older man spoke to her, “Hey, girl. Do you think your daddy can fight?” The others laughed. “Do you think he would have come for you, if he knew we had you?” The scarred man said, “Not likely. He would probably hide behind his wife’s saree.” They burst out laughing again.

Now Karkarath spoke again, “Listen, little beggar. You made a big mistake messing with me. Today is your last day. This is your last hour. I will teach you how people should treat Karkarath.” He held her jaw with her hand and squeezed her mouth open, hurting her. “Understand, smarty?” he said, and grabbed her throat, and started to choke her. “Hey, don’t finish the fun already,” said someone. Karkarath let go, lowered his hand, and slapped her again. Chhaya began to cry.

She began to cry profusely, sobbing like a child. She was trying very hard not to laugh at the sound she was making herself. She had to convince these idiots that she was really, really crying. Everything depended on that. She sobbed, “Please don’t hit me! I am sorry please don’t hit me! Please let me go! I will never do it again!” The four men watched for a second, and then burst out laughing. It was certainly great entertainment for them.

 “You are not getting anywhere, girl,” the tall one said., “You better get ready to die.” She slowly stopped sobbing. Her face still red and wet, she said, “Then please let me pray to the goddess one last time. Please, God will bless you!” The men looked at each other. The girl was clearly broken. She said again, “Please! I just want to dance one last time in front of the goddess! Please, soldier sir,” she broke into sobs again, “Give me one last wish!”

Karkarath grunted. The older soldier said, “One last wish, huh? Okay. You are lucky we are kind enough – anyone else would have killed you outright.” He came forward and began to untie her. “Cows like you should stick to cooking and dancing, idiot, then you might survive when I become king,” she heard Karkarath saying.

 She was free from the ropes now. She left her sandals, went and stood in front of the stone idol, and said a silent prayer. Then she started to dance. It did not matter if it was a real dance. These men knew nothing. She just needed to go through dancing motions.

But she had been dancing for years. Even when she pretended to dance, it was the real thing. Just as well, she thought – after hours of tight bondage, the dance was just the warm up she needed to prepare for her plan. She kept on dancing. She noticed the soldiers drawing closer, to watch her. They sat themselves down here and there, around the stone floor, looking at her intently.

Instinctively, she increased her tempo. She could feel four pairs of eyes following her every movement. Good. She remembered her grandmother telling her of the red sundew plant that grew in the jungle. The plant drew insects with its bright colour and sweet smell, and when they came close, they stuck to the gluey leaves as the plant caught them and digested them as food. Now she wanted these four insects to be stuck properly before she began her assault. She had moved into a fierce tandav now, and the soldiers sat with their eyes glazed and mouths parted. They were bewitched for the moment; their alertness had turned off. Now was the time.

She whirled and moved to one of the sitting soldiers, the tall one. She kicked out with a foot towards his throat, aiming for his thyroid cartilage. There was an odd crack as her foot sunk into his throat and came back to the floor. The man clutched his throat with horrified eyes. Then, he toppled to the floor, dead. But she did not wait to watch all this.

The others were still processing her attack when she had moved on to her next target. The older soldier saw her, and tried to thrust his spear at her belly. But spears are long-range weapons, her father had taught her, and she had already come too close. She parried, gripped the shaft with her right hand, and wrenched it away with a sharp pull. The man drew his knife, but she had already skipped away, and the next moment, his own spear pierced him through the ribs.

As she turned towards the two men, she saw that by now they were ready. But things were happening very fast. She looked at Karkarath and saw that the fear had returned to his face. He was keeping back. The other man, the soldier with the scar, looked angry enough to tear her apart. But she noticed he did not have his dagger with him. She decided very fast what she’d do.

She threw the spear away, and advanced at the soldier. “Come on,” she called him, beckoning with a hand. It was a hand-to-hand challenge. The soldier laughed, and threw his own spear away. Men can never resist a challenge of physical strength, she thought, and smirked on the inside. Then he rushed at her, and their hands locked with each other.

If she had made a miscalculation, and taken on the taller soldier in this contest of strength, she would surely have died, because she was much shorter and he would have pushed her down easily. But this man was her height. He was strong, though, and he was pushing with everything he had. Unfortunately for him, everything he had was not enough.

She did not waste much time. Slowly, she poured on more pressure, and the man found himself being pushed back and down bit by bit. She saw the confusion and disbelief in his eyes. Good. She pushed with all her strength. It was a matter of stamina now. Karkarath could easily attack her right now, and the fight would be over. But his broken ribs hurt, and like a true coward, he watched from a safe distance.

The man was going down. She gritted her teeth and pumped down desperately. Bit by bit, he had to hit the floor. Now she had him in front of him on his knees. But he was still pushing. She held his arms back, and quick like a cobra, kneed him in the jaw. The man’s head snapped back with a crack, and he dropped to the floor with a short ‘Uhk’, knocked out.

She brought her gaze up, and looked at Karkarath. His face was full of terror. He turned, and started to run. But she was easily faster than a lumbering man with a broken ribcage. She ran, caught up with him, and tripped him over as he was about to make down the stairs. Karkarath fell face first, and tumbled down the old stone steps of the temple. He got on all fours and looked up, she was calmly climbing down towards him, slowly, deliberately. He suddenly recalled what she had whispered to him in the marketplace. It had been exactly a week. He got to his knees and brought up his hands in terrified supplication. “Mercy!” he cried.

She kept climbing down, her mouth tightly shut. He cried again, “I am sorry! I am sorry!” She kept silent, but at her footsteps, the payals jingled softly.

She came and stood in front of him. He started to scream again, “Please let me go-” – but she lifted her foot and kicked him in the mouth.

Before he could pick his face off the dirt, she stepped forward and smashed her foot into his face again. His cries of pain rang in the deep trees. She saw him crawl away with terrified screams. She went and grabbed him by the hair, and threw him back on the ground. She wanted to finish this. She stepped on his throat. His wails stopped with a ragged choke, as he struggled to remove her foot. ‘Hhrrrkkk,’ he said. “What?”, she said, “I can’t understand you.”

She took her foot off, and smashed down on his chest repeatedly, driving the kicks with all her power. His screams didn’t even sound human now. The remaining ribs were also ruined. She turned around and went up the steps again. She had to check the unconscious soldier, the one with the broken jaw. As she climbed, she could hear Karkarath crying in agony, gurgling blood and gibberish. “Whatever”, she thought.

The soldier was dead. Her knee shot had not, in fact, broken his jaw, she saw that it had broken his neck. “Must have been the angle,” she told herself calmly. Then she went down to Karkarath.

The man lay there like a half-dead beast, eyes closed in pain. He heard the jingling chimes of her payals before he saw her. To him, it sounded like the footfalls of death. As she approached, Karkarath screamed again, his eyes wide with fear. She went up straight, kicked down on his stomach once. As the kick drove the breath out of the gigantic man’s body, he spat out blood. She locked eyes with him, holding his pained gaze for a moment. “I keep my promises,” she whispered, and then, brought down her heel on his throat with a stomp. There was a sound of cartilage breaking. And just like that, Karkarath was dead.

The sun was climbing low over the trees. Chhaya took a moment to compose herself. Now that she was out of danger, the bloodlust was leaving her fast. She had to get out of the jungle before dark. But what to do with the dead bodies? And, wouldn’t the dead soldiers be missed by the army officers? She was confused for a moment. Had she ended up becoming a criminal for real?

Then slowly, she figured a plan out. These soldiers weren’t here on official business. So no one knew where they were. They must have been very careful to keep their hideout a secret. And about Karkarath? – Well, that was another matter. She already knew what needed to be done. But there was another matter. Now she was the owner of three horses, and also all the personal money that the soldiers were carrying with them. She counted it out – it was enough to start off on a travel. And she would need to travel – at least until she found a way to clear herself of the four killings in a transparent, legal manner.

She left the bodies of the three soldiers in a neat heap, inside the temple, at the feet of the idol of Parvati. She knew the wild beasts of the jungle would find them, and soon, not much would remain. She loaded the fourth body on to a horse. She climbed on to another horse herself, and leading the third one by the reins, started off towards the village.

She stole into the village quietly, not by the main street but through the mango groves, which were always deserted by evening. She came to her house, and went in. First, she needed to meet her people, then she needed to eat, and then, there was business to be taken care of.

The next morning, the people of the village were treated to a strange sight. Tied to the banyan tree in the centre of the marketplace, there was the body of Karkarath. There was no life in it. His body looked badly broken, with dried blood on his chin and chest. There was a palm-leaf note stuck to his body, tucked in the ropes that bound him. One of the old men went forward and picked it up with trembling hands. There were only three lines, followed by a familiar shape drawn in something that looked like blood. It said-

Chhaya was not among the crowd that had gathered in the marketplace by mid-morning. She was at home. This time, she was leaving for real. Well, not for ever, but for long enough.

“I will be fine. You take care of yourselves, ma,” she said, as the horses stamped their hooves, waiting. They were rested, fed and loaded, ready for the long journey. She was ready too. “We will be fine. I have lived in this village for far longer than you have,” her mother said smiling, “We have more friends than you think. Don’t worry.” Her grandmother was out, too. “Will you see your father when you go to the capital?” she asked. Chhaya was thinking about that too. “Well, if I go to the capital,” she laughed, and stooped to touched their feet.

Then, she climbed on her horse, looking at the road winding up the east, and said – “Hyah!”

The adventure was just beginning.