A
shower of sunlight filtered into the woodland, past the leaves of the old grove
of mighty kumbuk trees as Abhaya steadied
his arms. Powerful bands of lean muscle were stretched till they were loosened,
and confidence flooded his system. He scanned the area from his shelter in the thick
shrubbery. He’d been crawling around on his belly for a while, elbows inching
him across the ground as he stalked the beautiful stag.
A
herd of deer had been flashing through the bushes, nervously stopping to look
out for any suspicious intruders. Abhaya hoped that he wouldn’t run into any
peacocks. Once or twice during some earlier hunts, the damned birds had
actually warned the deer of his presence, just as they would whenever a leopard
had been sighted. This big stag had, fortunately for him, been separated from
the herd and was trying to find his way back. Finally, twenty minutes of sweat
and bruises from stumbling about through rough terrain had done their work. He
was just seconds from finally firing his arrow at the animal.
Abhaya’s
eyes beheld cinnamon-colored fur, short and sleek, over a slim, runner’s body.
A pair of wonderful, branched antlers stuck out from its skull. Hopefully, they
wouldn’t be used on the hunter. The sunlight betrayed the presence of the
animal perfectly.
Sensing
that it was a clearing ringed by trees and bushes, the stag looked about before
pacing nervously forwards.
Abhaya
put his arrow to the powerful, highly flexible steel bow, gripping it by the
fine fletch at the end.
He
went down on one knee, but still kept his muscled torso straight. His belly
drew in, as he held his breath, his solid chest raised up.
One
arrow…
An
arrow fired from that bow had been able to penetrate armor itself, after all.
The peacock tail feather hanging from its top, swayed in the light wind as he
released his breath. The arrow shot away, whacking into the back leg of the
stag, and letting loose a shower of blood. Abhaya shot another, just to
reassure himself. The animal cried out, and ran away. All that was left was for
the hunter to follow. He sighed, but smiled with satisfaction. He was a patient
hunter, after all.
Tracking
the trail of blood was no difficulty, and once the hunt was finished he walked
towards the house. He still panted, with the carcass neatly trussed up and
slung across his strong back. Abhaya paused awhile, lungs drinking in the sweet
smell of the damp earth, freshly watered by a light shower. He gazed out at
great rice fields, shining in the sunlight like massive slabs of polished jade.
Lines of coconut trees and small huts lay behind them.
His
world would soon fade; that little he knew.
Abhaya
wiped a tear from his eye as his eyes turned away from the cart track to his wonderful
house, shining in the light of the sun. It might not be three stories tall like
their other house, on their old land in Minneriya. But it was still home.
Yet
the clouds were closing in, to lock Surya’s everlasting light away from his
mortal eyes for a while.
His
skin felt the coldness hitting him as he trudged up the worn paths that lead to
the house. How long would this choice piece of land be here? How long would he
be alive to come back and embrace the boy who sat on the doorstep, waiting for
him with open arms? The bright young eyes, the full lips and broad shoulders
eager for an embrace…Abhaya’s little brother looked at him with a smile full of
mixed feelings.
“Abhaya,
you brought in another!”
“Just
providing for my family, that’s all,” he answered with a broad smile. The
fading sunlight shone on the handsome, yet sweaty faces of the two vibrant
young men. “By the way, I think Father will take some more time. He has more to
do with his regiment. They’re talking about pushing him to commander, little
brother! Won’t that be exciting?” They had to cross a sizeable courtyard before
actually meeting their mother in her quarters of the wonderful house.
He
placed his kill on the ground, and whistled to a manservant to heave it into
the kitchen.
“So
he’ll be away for very long, will he?” The younger boy broke away momentarily.
Abhaya looked deep into his brother’s eyes. “Yes. I told Mother about his
decision. He, well, he’s happy I guess. He always wanted glory, and that’s what
he wanted us to have as well. He wants everyone in his regiment to feel proud
just for our contributions. He believes that we can fight, and he doesn’t care
that it might take a while. Pandu, Themiya, even ourselves. Father wants us to
feel good about our own efforts to fight for our country.”
Abhaya’s
eyes seemed to glow in a strange, determined light.
His
brother looked doubtfully at him.
“Well,”
the younger boy continued, “he’s hardly ever around for Mother and me, is he? I
don’t know Abhaya. I sometimes feel like war is the perfect excuse for him to
get away from us. I mean, think about it! All of you were gone for so many
years! And I missed you. Mother cried sometimes, but I was around, so I guess
it eased her burden. But I really hope you do come back safe!” He grabbed his
brother’s arms with tears in his eyes. “Come back safe! Come back with Father
and our two brothers, please, Abhaya!”
“No
problem, little baby boy,” smiled Abhaya gently and warmly, lovingly ruffling
his brother’s curly hair. “No problem at all. I’ll bring them back, Jayampati.
I promise.”
He
punched Jayampati’s shoulder lovingly. Young Jayampati though, stood still in
the middle of the courtyard, his smile fading into a distant gaze of
uncertainty.
Abhaya,
however, stopped halfway and returned. “I forgot to ask you though; what of
your friends? Are they doing well these days?”
Jayampati
answered, “I’ll actually be visiting Chitra today”-and broke into laughter when
his brother smiled cunningly at him-“oh Abhaya! No! It isn’t like that!
Although I could perhaps…”
“You
should. You two are young and free. Go ahead with it.” He placed his hand on
his younger brother’s upper arm. “You’re not going to be a boy forever, Jayampati.
In fact, I would say that you’re already a man, and Chitra is a beauty. So go
to her if you must…or I’ll take her for myself!” Quickly, he rushed out of the
courtyard, and to their mother’s room.
The
beautiful sound of a veena drifted
through the inner rooms of their house. Abhaya followed the music to a large,
but light wooden door with a strong knob shaped like a lion’s head, held wide
open against the wall by a large stone.
He
promptly put his hands together in salutation on seeing the player, a woman
seated comfortably on a large vermillion cushion. Incense burned in a small
lamp next to her, and a light muslin curtain hung in front of the window cut
into the left wall. Her hair, soft and
long, rested lightly against the small of her back, and she sat cross-legged.
Her yellow sari was short and light against her body for ease of movement. The
huge Saraswati veena rested
comfortably on her lap, and she strummed it with perfect ease as she fiddled a
few times with the tuning pegs. “So, I hope you have a valid reason for
disturbing me, my dear boy?” she chided gently, but smiled at her son as he
walked shyly into the room.
“It’s
my final day at home. I couldn’t go without saying goodbye.”
He
toyed with his cloak, brushing off some deer fur off it, strands which might
have a tick or two clinging to them. She looked at him with a strange gaze,
darkly at first, but then it morphed into something more sympathetic.
“Abhaya…must
you?” The instrument was placed gently on the carpet as she got up from her
cushion.
Her
slender hands grasped her son’s rough ones, tracing over the blisters at the
bases of his fingers. Blisters that had come up from handling hard weapons for
years and living rough on the battlefield.
To
Abhaya, his beautiful mother’s soft touch was something that felt almost alien;
it was a sensation that he had hungered for a long time, but once he received
it, it terrified him. The feeling of being away from her was slowly tearing him
up, he who was just half her age, who still called himself her child. He shied
away gently, but there was no escaping her warm, dark eyes. Her head was held
against his hard chest as she embraced him tightly. Her eyes tried to fight
tears as she felt her son’s strong arms enveloped across the slender form of
her back.
Her
voice was cracked. “And what if you don’t come back? What if you’re taken
prisoner, or are killed on the battlefield? What will I do?” Her tone grew
fiercer as she pushed him away suddenly. “Pandu and Themiya, well, they just
left in the middle of the night. So did your father! And now you too? Stay,
son! At least for a week!”
“Not
until I find Father again.” His voice was a whisper, choked with tears and a feeling
of deep uncertainty. He tried to smile as he held her hands against his heart.
“Just tell Jayampati that I’ll be back soon this time. He’s young, true…but
he’s smart. He knows more than he chooses to betray, Mother. He’ll understand.”
Yet the young man’s eyebrows were knit as he spoke. “I love you, I do”-he knelt
by her feet, gently whispering a Buddhist prayer-“and I want your blessings if
I’m to succeed. I have a duty to my country and my people. Don’t worry,” he
continued, seeing her expression once more growing that familiar feeling of
uncertainty, “I’ll be back with him before you know it.”
“But
I sometimes wonder if Anuruddha just leaves because…he wants to.”
Abhaya
frowned slightly, and backed up against the door. “What?”
“Haven’t
you noticed? I think he wants to find any excuse to not come back. Like he
dumped you three on me when I still so young! Abhaya, I can’t be sure of what
your… your father thinks of me,” she continued, breaking away from her son,
“but sometimes I wonder if he’s just making excuses. I don’t want him to go to
war, and I don’t want you to go away either!” Her voice rose to a high pitch as
desperation filled her.
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