Authors: Kavita Kane
SITA’S SISTER
Kavita Kané
is the best-selling author of
Karna’s Wife: The Outcast’s Queen
. She started her career as a journalist and is now a full-time novelist. She is a post-graduate in English literature and mass communications and a self-confessed aficionado of theatre and cinema. Married to a mariner, she is a mother of two teenaged daughters and currently lives in Pune along with Dude, the friendly Rottweiler, and Babe, the unfriendly cat.
First published by
Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd 2014
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Copyright © Kavita Kané 2014
This is a work of fiction. All situations, incidents, dialogue and characters, with the exception of some well-known mythological and public figures mentioned in this novel, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. They are not intended to depict actual events or people or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
First impression 2014
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The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Typeset by SÜRYA, New Delhi
Printed at Thomson Press India Ltd, Faridabad.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.
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To Kimaya and Amiya, who taught me that the daughter
is the mother of invention
‘That girl seems to have vanished into thin air! Where is she?’ Urmila could not contain the exasperation in her voice. Where
was
Sita? They were playing hide-and-seek and like always, the fun had dissipated from the game and it had become a mission to locate her elder sister. Her hideouts were as self-effacing as she was; Sita could come up with the most unexpected hideaways which took hours to track down.
Urmila found herself getting irritated; she was tired, her feet were hurting from running down the marbled corridors, climbing the pillared staircases and, the most trying of it all, searching for the hidden girl in the vast woodland that her father proudly called the ‘family’s garden’. It was a private forest. King Seeradhwaj Janak, her father—the pronunciation of which name was easy for Urmila as she was used to reciting Vedic verses every day—might be one of the most prosperous kings and a respected scholar, but the environs he loved most were the expansive tree-studded greens that housed a million flowers, the little girl thought part sourly, part affectionately. It was her favourite haven too—one in which she could duck easily and remain untraced for hours together. Like Sita was doing right now…
Urmila’s aching feet reminded her that she was digressing and she had still not found her hiding sister. She was
not
going to accept defeat—Urmila’s tiny, stubborn chin rose belligerently. If she could mine out her cousins Mandavi and Shrutakirti (condensed to Kirti by her as she found the name a tongue-twister) from their respective hideouts—a tall-trunked, high-branched tree and a chest—she snorted derisively, she should be able to track down Sita too. But Kirti was just seven, two full years younger to Urmila’s wise nine, and Mandavi was the same age as she and they had been easy to uncover from their hiding posts. Sita, however, was a year older, and
that’s
why she managed to select the most fetching places to hide, Urmila seethed. Behind the rising annoyance, however, was a tremor of worry that was shaking Urmila from her feigned anger. Where
was
her sister? Sita might be a little timid, but she was very strong in the face of mishaps and crises. Had she fallen? Had she hurt herself but was stifling the cry of pain lest her hiding hole was discovered? Had she fallen unconscious? Was she bleeding? Where
was
Sita?
‘You worry too much about her, Urmi, nothing has happened to her!’ Mandavi’s sharp voice cut short her perturbing thoughts. As always, Mandavi had astutely voiced her inmost fears. ‘Come, quick, let’s go to that hall upstairs—that’s the only place we haven’t checked.’
‘But we are not allowed to go there…,’ lisped Kirti, her big eyes widening.
‘Yes, and Sita being such an obedient girl would not break the rule. Why would she hide there when we have been forbidden to go to that wing of the palace?’ Urmila said uneasily knowing
she
would not hesitate to break any such rule. For Sita, she was ready to earn her father’s wrath.
‘I want to go to father! Let’s tell him we have lost Sita…’ Kirti was going to burst into tears any moment now.
‘Cry baby!’ Mandavi laughed scornfully.
‘No, dear, there’s nothing to be scared of,’ Urmila bent down and gathered her little sister close, giving Mandavi a quelling look. She could hear her youngest cousin’s heart thudding noisily, her slight body trembling against hers. ‘Why don’t you go to Ma and tell her we are here? And bring along uncle too…’
‘Urmi, we’ll get into trouble…’ Mandavi said warningly.
‘We are already in deep trouble,’ Urmila retorted, her voice hardening, the fear spiralling fast to engulf her.
She saw Kirti scrambling away as fast as her short, plump legs permitted her.
‘Let’s go find Sita,’ said Urmila, taking Mandavi’s hand.
The two small girls ran up the high steps of the wide, curving stairway in a hurried rush to locate their missing sister. They had to find her soon, Urmila thought furiously, as she peeped into each room and found it dismayingly empty.
‘She’s not here in this room too…!’ Mandavi looked shaken, her face white. Urmila could hear the tears in her voice.
They came to a huge, carved door. It was the door to the room the girls had been warned never to enter: the sacred hall. It was shut, but not locked. The girls stood looking at each other, undecided and wavering. Would Sita be inside? That thought propelled Urmila to push at the door. It did not budge. She pushed it harder, with all her hope, might and urgency. Mandavi pressed on with her slight shoulders. They felt the door move and slowly swing open. The girls rushed in, their eager, scared eyes scanning the long, pillared hall.
‘She can’t be here! How could she have got inside if both of us together couldn’t open that door?’ Mandavi whispered urgently. ‘Let’s leave fast…before we are caught!’
‘No!’ Urmila’s hand snaked out swiftly to catch hold of Mandavi’s wrist. ‘We have tried every room, every nook, every corner…she must be here. Sita has to be here!’ Urmila said chokingly, the tears welling up in her eyes and throat. ‘Sita! Sitaa!’ She screamed, her voice hoarse with despair. ‘Come out…please! Where are you?’
Her voice echoed distantly bouncing off the high domed ceiling. Her eyes barely noticed that the hall was extraordinarily long, lined with a row of carved chairs on either side, along the column of pillars. Urmila was staring far ahead. At the far end of the room was a throne, perched high over a long flight of steps. At the end of the steps and just in front of the throne was a low-lying long table on which was a huge iron box and peering into it was…Sita!
‘Sita!’ Joy and sheer relief gurgled out as a squeal from Urmila’s throat. She ran towards her sister, wanting to hug her fiercely. But she stopped. The sight before her was too much to behold. Were it not for the solemnity of the occasion, Urmila would have laughed aloud; it seemed that ludicrous. Sita was holding an enormous bow in her hand—it was gigantic, considering Sita’s elfin frame, towering high above her. But she was holding it effortlessly in one hand; peeking inside the massive casket in which the bow must have been previously placed. She was obviously searching for something.
‘I can’t find my play ball,’ cried Sita, looking distressed. ‘It must have fallen in here when I climbed into this box to hide. Oh there! I found it!’ She almost swooped on the ball, which lay in the inner niche of the armoury box, the huge bow in her small hand swaying dangerously.
‘Be careful,’ Urmila shouted instinctively.
As an answer, Sita carefully placed the tall bow back into the confines of the strong box with one hand and, skilfully scooped out the ball with the other. Noticing that the table—which was actually an elongated cart—was slightly askew, the meticulous girl that she was, Sita promptly straightened it with a nudge of her knees.
‘How did you do that?’ blurted Mandavi, her eyes shining in wonderment. ‘It looks sooooo heavy…it must weigh a tonne!’ She was gazing at Sita with newfound awe.
Sita shrugged lightly and said, ‘Let’s go…we are getting late. Ma will get worried!’
Suddenly realizing the reason of their presence in the hall, the series of events came rushing back to Urmila and flooded her with trepidation. She was about to retort tartly when her angry words were silenced by the sight of her parents and her uncle at the bottom of the steps. Her heart sank—now for the collective reprimands, she thought in dismay. But the harsh words were not uttered. Instead, all three adults seemed thunderstruck, carrying the same frozen expression on their faces which Mandavi had had a few moments ago. That of sheer awe.