Hasmukh Saab Ki Wasihat- Dancing to his will

 

The Silent Anklets- Historical Fiction

by

Anu Shivaram

Raja Vishnu Deva tossed again in his bed.  He could not sleep; he could not even sit still. He had been miserable all day. He had cancelled all Royal engagements and had locked himself in his chambers.  Even Pratapa Kumara, his trusted minister and childhood friend was denied entry and sent way from his chambers. Vishnu knew that Pratapa would be sitting in the corridor next to his bed chamber and would not leave the palace until he had seen him in person and ensured that his king was well.

Vishnu was struggling with an incident he dared not mention to anyone. It was not a matter of the state he could discuss with his trusted courtiers; not a battle strategy that his generals could guide him on, he could not share it with anyone else in the world. He could not even bring himself to think about it again. He felt an unbearable pressure in his lungs and a huge suffocating lump in his throat. ‘God! make this my last breath! Please take me away!’ he prayed in desperation.

He could not just go and kill himself like a commoner.  His name would go down in history as a cowardly king. Coward, he surely was not, he never had been - until this moment when he was too nervous to face the truth. A truth that could be his life’s undoing, a truth that could take away his trust, his faith and everything else he believed in.

Challenges were not new to Raja Vishnu Deva. In fact, as one of the most successful rulers of Southern India, he faced a new challenge every day. The external enemies were easier to manage than the ones that stayed in his own palace, masquerading as well-wishers.

Whenever he needed a second opinion, a word of wisdom or a smart consul he would invariably approach his beloved wife, Shantha Devi. She had always helped him make right decisions. Sadly, he could not approach her now; his dear wife was now the culprit and he had caught her red handed!

‘Hey Rajan, my men and I have overheard the queen’s maids discussing that a young man has started visiting the queen in her chamber at night and exits through the rear window at the crack of dawn. I could not believe this, until I witnessed it myself. Pardon me, O’ Maharaja, for breaking such horrible news’, the chief of staff had whispered in the king’s ears the previous day as he entered the palace. Vishnu had grown numb in disbelief when he heard this.

Vishnu believed that it was impossible for his beloved wife to be seeing someone behind his back. She loved him dearly and had risked her own life in the past to save him from traitors. She was beautiful, accomplished, wise and above all, a very sensible girl. They had never had any secrets between them, or so he thought.

It was almost a fortnight since they had met. It was pitru paksha (ancestral fortnight), and he had gone away with his entourage to Gaya to perform shraddh to his forefathers and seek their blessings. Women from his clan generally did not accompany men in this annual ritual.

The king was expected to complete the rituals on mahalaya, the last day of the pitru paksha, have a ritual bath and meet his queen and family on the first day of the auspicious month of Ashweej.  

The next ten days were the most important in the royal calendar as the king held his durbar, adorned in his finery, sitting on his golden throne to greet visitors, dignitaries, artists and scholars. This was the chance for the commoners to see their king and queen in all their splendour and rejoice in the gifts doled out to them by the royal treasury.

‘How could my devoted wife form a relationship with a young man in such a short period?’ the king wondered. Who could he be? Why would he steal into her chamber in the dark of the night? King Vishnu desperately searched for answers.

He decided to test it out himself and hid beneath one of the rear windows on the dark night of mahalaya with the help of his trusted bodyguard.

The first rays of the sun appeared like an orange orb in the horizon, tearing through the dark curtain of the night. The night security guards started packing up and the day guards arrived,  being checked in one by one, when Vishnu heard a thump and fleeting footsteps.  The bodyguard almost pounced on the figure covered in a veil, but Vishnu stopped him and let the veiled figure vanish in the dark.

Suddenly a light flashed and king Vishnu saw his cousin Devadatta smile at him. Devadutta had also watched the young man leave the queen’s chambers and to add to this insult, he had also caught the king crouching behind the window of his wife’s chambers.

‘Devadutta, I know you will never let such an opportunity slip; you will make it the first agenda to be discussed at the royal court, tomorrow,’ the king spoke to himself fully aware of the jealousy and ill- will that his cousin harboured against him.

The mighty king needed time to digest this truth. He pinched himself in disbelief! He felt blood draining out of his body, he shivered at the cold drama that had happened before his own eyes. He limped back to his chamber supported by the guard. He slumped on his bed and ordered that doors be shut, and that no soul be allowed to enter his chambers.

Vishnu lay on his bed, staring at the carved ceiling. His entire life seemed to pass before his mind’s eye as though it was a tableau of sorts.

Part 2-After their father’s death in a fierce battle, his elder brother ascended the throne. Within a year, he was killed in mysterious circumstances and the killer was never identified. Vishnu had to ascend the throne even as aspersions were cast on his   integrity. Rumours were afloat that Vishnu had got his elder brother removed so he could become king.

Young Vishnu mourned the loss of his beloved brother as he tried to manage the reigns of his vast kingdom. It was Pratapa’s father, the loyal minister Veeranna Mantri, who took Vishnu under his tutelage and helped him learn the ropes of governance. He ensured that Vishnu received lessons from the best warriors in the kingdom and sent him incognito outside the Kingdom to learn from the best archers and swordsmen. He ensured that Vishnu was exposed to the life of the common man and the joys and sorrows of everyday living.

Veeranna taught Vishnu to listen, consider, consult and respond. ‘Like the Triveni sangam, there is a hidden river of truth in most situations, not just to the two sides of the story; learn to find the hidden one too’ Veeranna would advise Vishnu. He made sure his protégé was not just a brave warrior but a kind gentleman too.

Over the years, Vishnu waged many wars, expanded his kingdom, subdued mighty armies, established a just and fair society and became a respected king. His fame spread far and wide.

He surely was one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire subcontinent. Kings and emperors approached him to marry their daughters. Vishnu’s marriage became a much-debated topic in the kingdom and all chieftains and kings vied with each other to get his attention. Many more verbal wars were fought in the kitchens, temple courtyards and riverbanks where the women folk normally met.

One day King Vishnu came to Veeranna. ‘Appaji,’ he hesitated, ‘while I toured the country side in disguise I saw a beautiful girl sing and dance while she cleaned the temple courtyard. She looked like an apsara, a celestial nymph. I am unable to forget her. Can you please arrange for me to meet her?’ the brave king spoke avoiding Veeranna’s gaze.

Veeranna smiled, ‘Rajan, my spies told me that you visited the Shiva temple every morning. The young girl Shantha devi is the only daughter of the village head Machanna and his wife Sovala devi. She is an embodiment of Saraswathi, the goddess of learning. Her expertise in music and dance, is the talk of the town. Being the chief’s daughter, she is well trained in administration and basic warfare.’

‘Once I realised your interest in her, I tested her myself on various occasions, including sending thieves to her house to test her response and alertness. She passed every test of mine in flying colours’ Veeranna continued. ‘I was not only looking for a bride for you but for a mother figure who could assume responsibility for the subjects from the minute she became a queen; a huge task for any young girl. My heart tells me she will be a blessing to our country.’

Vishnu looked up to the skies with a jubilant smile.

The wedding, as expected, was a spectacular month-long affair. King Vishnu and his new queen Shantha bonded as though they were soulmates. They felt very comfortable with each other as they realised, they had common interests. The king and his new bride, both lovers of art, ensured that artists from far and near were given opportunities to exhibit their skills and get suitably rewarded during the wedding festivities.

‘This is more an artists’ mela than a royal wedding. I hope our king still remembers to wield the sword’ some soldiers had laughed.

Very soon king Vishnu Deva had to wield the sword. The Kongalavas from the Niligiri region in the South attacked his kingdom and then he had to subdue the raising of the chieftains in the north.  He won a series of battles against the Cholas and established his supremacy in the south western part of India. Finally, when he returned to his homeland on the banks of the river Kaveri, he had been away for more than eight seasons.

Shantha Devi assumed the responsibilities of the state in her husband’s absence. She prayed to her favourite deity Shiva for her husband’s safety and the wellbeing of every soldier and his family. She lost herself in a trance and danced in the temple every evening as an offering.

Even the puritans and nay sayers who objected to the queen dancing in public, fell silent when they saw how passionate she was and how her devotion and surrender came through in front of the Lord. Without her knowledge, Shantha Devi had transformed her subjects into lovers of art. Every parent wanted their child to learn dance, music, literature, architecture. The whole kingdom had turned into a vibrant artisan’s village!

When Vishnu Deva returned triumphant from the wars, he was welcomed with great splendour and festivities. Finally, one night he sat with his beautiful wife on the river bank. ‘Devi, you have turned my kingdom into a haven of fine arts. You have managed the kingdom so well and lifted the quality of life a few notches higher. I feel so blessed to belong here and see my people so cultured and sophisticated. You are a magician. What gift shall I honour you with?’

Shantha blushed in pride and joy listening to her husband’s words, ‘your words are enough my Lord, I need nothing else’ she whispered coyly resting her head on his well-worn shoulders.

‘I insist, ‘Vishnu said.’ Ask for whatever you want and it shall be granted.’

Shantha hesitated and finally yielded, ‘while you were away Lord Shiva was my protector, my refuge and my companion.  I would like us to build a beautiful temple for him. A temple that will stand the test of time and will be a beacon of beauty and hope. A temple that will instantly lift a pilgrim’s spirit into higher realms where they realise the meaning of ‘Satyam Shivam Sundaram’- that Truth, God and Beauty are three manifestations of the same primordial entity.’

‘Well, well, this is way beyond the comprehension of an ordinary soldier like me! Vishnu laughed,’ but I shall do whatever it takes to fulfil your lofty dream. With Lord Shiva as witness I hand over today not only the keys to the Royal treasury but to my heart as well.’ The king gently hugged his queen.

PART 3

When Vishnu happily agreed to build the Shiva temple, Shantha’s joy knew no bounds. She had wanted to build something that would be immortal, something that would tell the future generations about the golden period that the citizens enjoyed during her beloved husband’s regime, something that would bear testimony to the great skill of the artisans of their kingdom; how their nimble fingers could carve the most delicate patterns in stone, it would be a gift to posterity, to cherish and show the world what they had inherited.

Veeranna suggested that the Royal architect, Acharya Jagganna should oversee the building of the temple with a free hand to draw funds directly from the treasury, assign tasks and hire the sculptors.

The Acharya was too old to work with his hands any longer but he was considered one of the most skilled sculptors in the entire subcontinent. Kings from both friendly kingdoms and not- so-friendly kingdoms would approach Jagganna to carve the face of the presiding deities when they built temples. He had never failed to bring a graceful smile to the face and fill the eyes of the deities with kindness and compassion. He was known as the man who could make a piece of stone to speak.

It was rumoured that many kings would accept defeat in a battle so they could befriend the king and approach Jagganna for help and guidance with their temples and palaces.

‘Of course, who else but Acharya Jagganna?’ King Vishnu said, ‘we were well aware of the Acharya’s mastery in Shilpa shastra (architecture), Natya shastra (treatise on dance), Bhooragbha shastra (Geology) and khagola shastra (astronomy).

‘Great scholars from far and near consult him, he has earned the title of Acharya, a great guru not only for his skill and scholarship but also for his wisdom and humility’ Shantha Devi added, ‘let us both approach him with royal honours and request him to take on the entire responsibility of our dream temple.’

The building of the temple started soon, Rani Shantha was keen that the ‘shilanyas’ happened and the work started before Vishnu and his army left on another expedition, a long one, up to the banks of river Godavari and beyond.

After a ceremonial farewell to the king and his army, Shantha focussed all her energies on the temple. Veeranna’s son Pratapa Kumara was now a well-trained minister and was taking over the reins of administration under his father’s watchful eyes. Shantha was confident that the kingdom would be well managed. 

‘Can you please design the platform of the temple to be in the shape of a star? I want this temple to be absolutely unique and unmatched’ Shantha requested Jagganna.

‘Devi, I would love to take on this challenge and so will my team of highly skilled artists. However, it would take us months or even years to arrive at a workable geometric design that would support the ceiling and hold on forever. We have no theory, no sample to fall back on’ Jagganna stroked his silver beard, slowly considering his words.

Shantha would visit the worksite every day, some days while the sculptors were working on the designs, to appreciate and encourage them. On other days she would go early in the morning to critique each piece of the plan in detail and discuss any changes she wanted.

 ‘I just want ‘Rani Amma’ to look at the line of elephants I have carved for the base of the platform. All elephants are the same height and size but I have made sure each one is in a different pose, depicting a different mood. The one I made today has such a naughty expression; it is sure to make her laugh. I hope she comes by today,’ a young sculptor said.

The senior architects knew that Her Majesty’s gracious presence on the worksite would fill the artists with a new energy and each would work more zealously than the other to get his queen’s appreciation. They specifically showed her when a piece was well made and introduced the sculptor.

‘An artist can survive without food, but he will die without applause’ Shantha Devi would tell the supervisors to acknowledge and encourage whenever they spotted a pair of skilled hands.

Jagganna and his elite team were still struggling to finalise the design of the inner part of the temple, that would support the roof of the star shaped building. They were discussing standing near the exclusive sand-pit in the temple work site where the plans were drawn, erased, and re-drawn in sand.

Young Mallita who was working nearby, overheard the discussions of his seniors. His imagination was fired. He went back to his tent in the artist’s village and started working on the problem. After three days and three nights of intense calculations, he concluded that the structure could be strengthened with slanted stone slabs connecting the tiered pillars to the ceiling of the temple. He worked out forty-six pillars would be needed on the outer circle and six in the inner circle facing the ‘garbhagriha’ where the deity would be placed.

Mallita was but a teenager; a faint line of moustache still forming on his tender face, a young apprentice who had accompanied his neighbour Bopanna to the capital city to work in the temple site.  Like Bopanna, he was also listed as an unskilled labourer and was assigned menial tasks.

Mallita was excited about his calculations, he wanted to share it with none other than Jaggannacharya, no one else would understand, he told himself.

Next day, he deliberately broke an idol, turned violent and created a scene until he was led to Acharya Jagganna before being expelled from his job. As soon as he was in the Acharya’s presence, Mallita fell at his feet and begged him to listen to his solution for holding up the temple ceiling.

Acharya, an experienced teacher, laughed at this young man’s ploy, ‘I will give you ten minutes to explain your theory and convince me. If you can’t, you will be kicked out of this site, never to return.’

Mallita quickly pulled out a rough clay model he was hiding in his satchel and presented it.  The Acharya sat down at his workbench and examined it in detail and slowly dismantled the sticks that were used as make-shift pillars. He burst into a loud laughter and started swearing in disbelief!

‘This is a solution sent by Lord Vishwakarma, the divine architect! He has sent you as an answer to my prayers! Tell me child, who gave you this solution? It is perfect! How did you know I was worried about the technical design of the ceiling?’ Acharya Jagganna hugged the boy with tears of joy streaming down his cheeks.

Acharya took away the clay model and gave it to his engineers for further work.

Soon, Mallita was inducted into the Acharya’s personal team of highly skilled and venerated artists. Acharya had faith in the young man though others scoffed and tried to call his bluff. ‘Just a fluke! He will be exposed soon.  Too raw to sit with us.’ Many seniors would walk away as soon as he entered the Acharya’s chambers.

 Mallita was not fazed, nothing bothered him except the construction of the temple. His entire being - body, mind and soul was invested in the temple. He was observing, learning and absorbing every minute and when he slept, which he rarely did; he dreamt of filling every wall in the temple with exquisite figurines.

Whenever Acharya Jagganna saw this boy and his immense passion, he smiled to himself, ‘This is exactly how I was! I would wake up in the middle of the night and steal the work that was allocated to my brother by my father! Such was my madness’ his colleagues would smile respectfully; they knew his father who was the chief royal architect.

The temple work progressed rapidly but not fast enough for Rani Shantha, who wanted it completed in time for Raja Vishnu’s Vijay yatra; his successful home coming after winning several wars.

The outer precinct of the temple was almost ready, filled with finely sculpted and polished friezes. The stories from the great epics Ramayana, Mahabharata, and the puranas were depicted in the upper half of the temple, while the lower half around the platform had series of elephants, lions and horses carved in immaculate perfection, interspersed with flowers and creepers. It was indeed a visual delight to see the temple in daylight.

The inner precinct near the shrine, the ‘garbha gruha’ had empty slanted slabs which were rather hard to decorate, they couldn’t be left empty in a temple where every inch was covered in exquisite art.

Mallita, who had now gained the complete confidence of the ageing Acharya came forward, ´Acharya, if you permit, we can bring the ‘Natya shastra’ to life on these frescoes. We can have every dance posture described by Bharata Muni in the Natya shastra. This will become an artists’ paradise; a true tribute to our Maharani Shantha Devi who is herself a great dancer.’

‘Not a bad idea’ agreed the Acharya hesitantly. It is a big job to carve life-like images of the dancers and we have to have fifty-two such images ready! Sounds impossible to be completed in the next nine months, in time for the inauguration of the temple.’

Sensing Acharya’s apprehension, other courtiers grabbed the opportunity to discourage this exotic idea. Sanganna, the head sculptor, who was particularly jealous of Mallita, proposed, ‘If Mallita can decorate the inner frescoes with the graceful dancers he so beautifully described to us, then we can employ our best sculptors to bring the Natya shashtra to life and make his dream come true! However, the six nymphs should be dancing away on the walls by ‘Vijayadashami’, the final day of the Dasara festival when the king and the queen will visit the temple at the end of the ceremonial procession. If he can’t meet this deadline, then he will have put his tools down forever.’

 Young Mallita jumped eagerly to accept this challenge even as Acharya Jagganna and other seniors fell silent sensing the enormity of the challenge the naïve young man had accepted without thinking it through.

PART 4

Raja Vishnu sat staring at the night sky and thinking of the day that lay ahead. It would be a busy morning with the priests arriving to guide him through the rituals and then he would head to the court for the beginning of the royal durbar. He knew for certain that his cousin Devadutta would broach the unpleasant topic of the previous night as soon as the court commenced. Devadutta would not let go.

‘I am not going to let my dear wife be discussed in public and have aspersions cast on her behaviour. Other mighty kings have banished their wives without giving them a chance to defend themselves, but I shall not do so.’ He stormed out, leaving the doors swaying wildly behind him.

Vishnu banged on the doors of the Rani’s chamber in his night clothes with his hair disheleved, his red eyes sleepless and confused. It was almost the break of dawn and he saw the silhouette of the man at the window, ready to jump out.

Vishnu rushed towards him and grabbed him by the neck instinctively pulling out his sword.

Devi Shantha rushed towards him and pushed the young man aside, trying to protect him, ´Prabhu, I can explain. Its not what it looks like. Let me tell you…..’

‘No, Amma ji! Not you! let me explain. You are sworn to secrecy and I will not let you break your promise.’

‘Maharaja, please, please grant me a chance to speak and tell you the truth,’ Mallita fell at the king’s feet.

‘Hurry up and tell me what you are doing in the queen’s chamber at this hour. Don’t you dare cook up a false story,’ the king thundered. ‘I know who you are!’

Mallita gathered courage and spoke hesitantly, stammering and shivering in front of the king, ‘I had publicly accepted the challenge to make six beautiful figurines for the inner sanctum of the temple based on Bharata’s Natya shastra. I was so stupid that I did not comprehend the enormity of the task.’

 I spent months trying to draw the perfect dancer.  If I got the proportions right, I failed at getting the right expression on the dancer’s face. If the expression was right, the dancer’s body would be disproportionate, when I managed to get both, then the figure would be too large to fit on the fresco,’ I struggled day and night to get it right.’

Mallita saw the intense look on the king’s face as he settled in an embossed chair nearby, and gathered the courage to continue.

‘Seeing my misery, someone suggested I should look for a live model. I am only a poor apprentice, an orphan who was nurtured by the kindness of neighbours in my village. I could not afford the luxury of a live model.’

‘Yet, I went in search of a model. I would stop by the village wells and lakes staring at women, looking for the perfect one.  God only knows how many times I have been beaten up by the men folk for staring at their wives and daughters.  I got expelled from villages by the panchayats that fore bade me from ever entering the village.’ Mallita wiped his tears.

‘I had lost all sense of self respect and shame. I did not care what people said or did to me. I went from village to village and town to town looking for a lady with proportionate limbs, but what I sought most was the look in her eyes, a lady who would be so lost in her dance that she would merge her whole being into her art; only her art would shine through and her persona would cease to exist’

‘Stop blabbering! You scoundrel!’ The king yelled impatiently, ‘tell me why you are in my queen’s chamber. How dare you enter this palace!’

‘Pardon me Maharaja, I had spent many months looking for the perfect image that would adorn the walls of the temple and lift the entire temple to a different realm. I went to prostitutes, devadasis, temple dancers and street acrobats, I found none that matched my dream figure.’

‘Meanwhile, the pressure on me increased, to either complete my work or lay my tools down. What meaning did my existence have without my hammer and chistle? How could I show my face to Acharya Jagganna and other elders having failed so miserably? ‘

‘In my arrogance I had assumed that art was easy. I did not realise that it took a lifetime’s penance to be able to sing or dance, sculpt or write well. I had not understood the blood and sweat, the tears and the toil of many, many failed attempts before tasting a drop of success.’ Mallita wiped the tears that flowed down his cheeks and blew his nose forgetting he was in Royal presence.

 ‘One morning, I finally decided to jump into river Kaveri to end the ignominy of my failure,’ Mallita sobbed, unable to speak any more.

Shantha opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Ambike, her trusted maid since childhood, stepped forward and bowed before the king seeking permission to speak.

Vishnu was familiar with Ambike, Shantha Devi’s personal assistant who was like her shadow and well respected in the palace.

‘That morning Maharani Shanthakka and I had gone to the river for an early morning dip in the river before going to the Keshava temple for Vishwa Roopa Darshana. As we came out of the river, we saw a person jump into the river from the nearby cliff. Shanthakka called out to her body guards to rescue the person who had just jumped   into the swift river. They pulled him out of the water and resuscitated him. Devi took pity on the young man, wrapped him in her shawl and listened to his long story patiently, fed him and sent him home.’ Ambike continued in a subdued voice aware of the king’s irritation and anger.

‘Prabhu, you know Shanthakka never takes rash decisions. I saw her sick with worry for three days, lost in thought, unmindful of her hunger and thirst. Finally, she sent for this young man. She invited him to this very chamber and danced in front of him, adorned in her dance costume and jewellery.’ Ambike added.

‘Maharaja! even Natya Saraswathi, the goddess of all learning, could not have danced like that! I fainted in joy!! Mallita screamed, his eyes half closed as he re-lived the ecstasy of his dream come alive in front of his own eyes, not any ordinary dancer, but the maharani herself. He had clearly forgotten that he was being interrogated by the king!

‘Shanthakka proposed that she would pose for him every night, if Mallita promised to complete his task and get the idols fixed in the temple by the time you arrived. Mallita came here every night and sketched and developed a template of the Rani in a different dance pose each night.  He has been carving out those templates in stone during the day.’

‘I am only an ordinary maid and it is not my place to comment’ Ambike hesitated for a minute and then continued, this place felt like a tapovan, a place of intense devotion and meditation when they both worked together to create something ethereal. I feel blessed to have witnessed this,’ Ambike wiped her tears with her     trembling hands as she stepped back.

Shantha moved towards the king; her anklets were silent. No one spoke a word,  a thick veil of silence had enveloped the queen’s chamber.

‘Amma, I will never forget your generosity and the affection you showered on this poor orphan. I should not live any longer as I have broken my promise of secrecy. Long live the King!’ Mallita suddenly pulled out a dagger from his vest, pointing it towards his heart.

Like lightening, the agile king leapt towards him..... .