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Having slept for most of the day in proper asur fashion, Akasur and Chamund greeted the beautiful Lanka evening with great spirit.

They sat perched on a high wall, not looking down and in possession of two large wooden mugs full of soma stolen from the ruins of the classiest tavern in upper Lanka.

They talked of many things in their lives, recounting tales humourous and otherwise, laughing generously at each others jokes. They remained largely truthful until the soma started getting the better of them. Both fell from their perch and landed with a thud on the street side. In front of them, shops did brisk business and nobody paid them much attention.

“Have you seen her yet?” asked Chamund.

“Seen who?” said Akasur, mildly annoyed that the fall had emptied his mug. He threw it away.

“Sita,” said Chamund with a silly grin on his face. He produced his flask and refilled his mug.

Akasur groaned and said, “The likes of us aren’t allowed within two yojanas of Ashok Vatika. But I have heard she is pretty.”

Chamund rubbed his eyes and yawned, “A cousin of mine is married to one of the asuris that take care of Sita. He tells me she is pretty but cries all the time. You do know her husband is the prince of Ayodhya, don’t you?”

“So I have heard, yes.”

“He is the one that sent that irreverent vaanar to Lanka. Hanuman they called him.”

Akasur grinned secretly. A most hated relative of his had lost everything in the fire that swallowed much of uptown Lanka last month. He didn’t think it was appropriate to show his glee, so he asked, “What was he like? This vaanar Hanuman.”

“They all look alike to me. But this one was larger than the average vaanar, more hairy too. He was very well built, and moved like the wind itself. His tail was long. A palace guard told me later it seemed to grow by itself and that he made a stool with it for himself,” Chamund stopped to giggle, then continued, “He spoke to the king haughtily. They set his tail to fire to teach him a lesson. You know what happened after that. Some claimed they saw him fly across uptown Lanka, systematically setting fire to the buildings.”

He took a swig from his mug. The overall outcome hadn’t been bad. The fire and the ensuing chaos had made plundering much easier. Had it not been for that Hanuman, this soma would have been a distant dream to them now.

Months later, on the other side of the sea…

Vallabh was shaken awake by Sabal. Instead of getting angry, he felt guilty. It was well over an hour since the sun had come up. Tired or not, he should have been up and about with the first ray of the sun. Sabal pressed his shoulder gently and smiled.

They were both proud soldiers in the army of the mighty vaanar king Sugreev. Guilt had no place in their lives. It slows a warrior down. Now that the bridge across the sea was on its way to Lanka, haste became all the more essential.

He leapt out of his straw bed and bounded out of the tent with Sabal into the early morning. In the distance they saw their king in conference with Sri Ram and Lakshman. All across the beach, their fellow soldiers towed carts filled with rocks towards the bridge.

They were aided by all manner of creatures — elephants, hares and deer. Sabal even saw birds swoop down with rocks clutched in their talons.

Vallabh gasped as a loud, deep groan echoed from behind them. They turned and were met by a sight that, though common in the camp, made their hair stand on its end each time.

A 50-foot-high Hanuman was walking towards the start of the bridge with a twelve-ton column of rock hoisted on one shoulder. He had just shifted his weight from one foot to another and was looking for the best way to get to the coast without having to disturb the queues of workers any more than was absolutely necessary. He could fly, but the slipstream would cause even more disturbance.

“Will you move towards the sea a bit my dear vaanars?” he said, looking down.

Sabal realised Hanuman was talking to them and nudged Vallabh. They scuttled out of his path. Hanuman talked really slow when he was that big.

He moved his weight again. Dropping the weight from his sore shoulders on to his hands, he set it down on the ground as slowly as possible. Even so, the considerable ‘thump’ made many turn their heads.

“Sorry,” said Hanuman slowly, his voice sage and child-like at the same time.

He sat down next to the rock and reduced his size by a quarter. He then began to tap the rock with his knuckles.

Vallabh realised they had still not put themselves to any use. He was about to mention this to Sabal when he heard Hanuman again,

“Will you do me a favour brave soldier? Please go find senapati Neel for me. Tell him I need his help here.”

Sabal took off without a word, having naturally assumed that the phrase ‘brave soldier’ could be directed at none other than him.

“That is one cocky ape,” Vallabh thought.

“What is your name friend?” Hanuman asked Sabal, catching him off guard.

“I am called Vallabh my lord,” he said, and then fell quiet in deference to authority.

“Speak your mind Vallabh,” said Hanuman. “We are like brothers.”

Vallabh was embarrassed that his unease had been this obvious. He said, “I am curious about Lanka my lord. What do the asuras on the other side of the sea look like? You are the only one who has been there. None of us have any idea what we are going up against.”

“Hmmm,” said Hanuman. He hit the rock column with his fist once. The thump sounded over all other sounds on the beach. He hit it once again. This time a crack appeared down the middle of the rock. Hanuman smiled.

“They are selfish and short-sighted. It is difficult for them to think of others. They think of power as an end. They have no unity. They have no respect for anyone, not even each other. They are impatient. It is easy to get them angry.”

Vallabh listened and made pictures inside his head. He could have used a more graphic definition.

Hanuman wrapped his tail around one half of the column and pulled at the other half. The column gave away where the crack had appeared.

“I am sorry. I can’t define an asura any other way,” he said, “Are you afraid?”

“I am not afraid,” said Vallabh, his throat dry.

Hanuman smiled. He got up and closed his eyes. His size reduced to something closer to Vallabh’s own.

“Don’t be,” Hanuman said. “You are better than them.”

Sabal reappeared, accompanied by senapati Neel, fabled to be a son of Vishwakarma himself. Neel, along with his brother Nal was in charge of the bridge.

“Pranaam senapati Neel,” said Hanuman. “And thank you brave soldier for your help. Jai Sri Ram!”

“Jai Sri Ram!” said the two soldiers in unison.

“Don’t just stand there talking about it,” Neel said. “There’s a bridge to finish.”

Vallabh and Sabal turned and ran to where the air was thick with hardworking vaanars’ groans.

Posted on Sunday, October 1st, 2006 at 7:11 pm and filed under stories, ramayan.

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