By Sujatha Balasubramanian

Navarasa literally means, nine emotions.

According to Indian tradition, the basic emotions in life are divided under nine heads; Shringara– love, Hasya– humour, Karuna– pathos, Roudra– anger, Veera– valor, Bhaya– fear, Bhibhatsa– horror, Vismaya– wonder and Shantah– peacefulness.

Each of the following stories is meant to portray one of the Rasas or emotions.

‘Veera’

“Of all the stories in the Ramayana,” Somadeva said, “I like that which recounts the valour of Jatayu best.”

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Shanmugam and Raji walked down the road from the market, close together, their hands almost touching. It was late afternoon, the sun hot and blazing fiercely on their faces. Raji wiped the streams of perspiration from her brow. Shanmugam turned to look at her, his eyes radiant.

“I still can’t believe that we have been really betrothed. Yesterday was like a dream. It was a wonder that your father consented after all,” he said.

Raji smiled. “Oh! That was not very difficult, there were ways and means of getting round my father,” she said, “But I was absolutely terrified lest Cousin Kali should create trouble. He is a hot-tempered vicious person. And after all, he did have his rights for my hand. I was afraid he’d bring along half-a-dozen of his hefty henchmen and break up the function. But, thank God, he seems to have taken it well.”

Shanmugam asked softly, “Are you sorry? Are you going to miss all that your cousin Kali can offer you – the big, storied house, the dozens of snow-white bulls, the soft, upholstered carriages?” Raji stopped and looked at him, the answer in her eyes. Then she laughed mischievously. “Well, we’ll see. There is still a month until the wedding. Who knows? I may even change my mind and decide to take Cousin Kali, eventually. You are right – that new, blue carriage of his is really a beauty.” She flounced along the road with an exaggerated, mincing walk, waving the end of her sari to and fro.

He caught up with her. “You little minx,” he said, holding her arm with mock severity, “just you mention that man to me again and see what happens. You are mine now and you are not even to speak to another.”

The open road turned a corner and they were in an avenue of shady, tamarind trees. It was cool here, invitingly cool after the scorching heat of the dying day. The lovers sat on a large stone under a tree for a few minutes. Raji admired her recently acquired armful of coloured bangles afresh, the reds and the blues and the greens spangled with gold. Then she undid the bunch of exotically-scented, green maruvu from her hair, rolled it up neatly and tacked it in again. Shanmugam looked on, amused.

They started on their way, walking slowly, wordlessly, savouring each other’s presence, and came to a fork in the road. Four men stood on the path to the left that led to their village; four huge, dark, hulking men, their dhotis wound tightly around their thick legs, each with a long bamboo pole in his hand. Their eyes were grim and unfriendly.

“Cousin Kali!” whispered Raji and clutched her lover’s hand.

“So, you thought you could get away with my girl, did you, you rascal?” Kali’s voice was full of venom. He came forward and stood before the couple, looking over Shanmugam indifferently. “Go, pick yourself another,” he said, “this one belongs to me.” He pulled Raji away roughly, carelessly, to his side. Shanmugam sprang forward to intercept him but the other men were ready and closed round him menacingly.

Raji threw off the restraining arm and spat scornfully on the ground. “Call yourself a man? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, bringing three men with you to attack one man and a defenseless girl? The great and mighty Kali, owner of twenty acres,” she twirled an imaginary moustache, “wait till the whole village hears about it. Why you’ll be the laughing stock of every urchin!” She turned on him suddenly, “If you are really a man, stand and fight with him,” she pointed to Shanmugam, “on equal terms and let the better man take me.”

Kali thought for a moment, his pride stung by the challenge. But it would be really stupid to lose his advantage and risk a fight with Shanmugam all by himself. “You shut up, girl,” he said brusquely and pushed her aside. “Come on you fellows, let us see what this young colt has to say for himself.” Four long bamboo poles were aimed at Shanmugam.

He glanced at Raji. If only she could get away from these ruffians, he thought, if she could reach home safely. “Wait,” he cried, lifting up his arm, “listen to me for a minute. Let the girl go. Give me a pole and I’ll take on all of you together. The moment you have beaten me, you can run after her and catch her. The sooner you defeat me, the earlier you can go after her. Will that suit you?” he asked, praying that Kali would not just knock him on the head and walk off with Raji. Anything, he thought, to see that she gets back safely.

Kali lowered his pole thoughtfully. This would certainly save his face for, after all, he wouldn’t be hitting an unarmed man. And, as the fool said, they could catch up with the girl in a jiffy, surely, it wouldn’t take long for four of them to deal with this fellow. “All right,” he said, “no one can say that Kali hasn’t been fair. Here, you,” he called to one of his men, “give him your pole.”

Shanmugam took the bamboo and turned to Raji. “Run” he told her urgently, “run as fast as you’ve ever done in your life. I’ll try and keep them back as long as I can.” Raji looked at the merciless faces of the four men and sped down the path to the left.

Six feet of bamboo poised carefully in his hands, Shanmugam faced the men. Kali laughed confidently and began to attack. Shanmugam blocked the blow with his pole twisting it around to face the second man. With a faint jab and jab to the shoulder, he landed a glancing blow. But already, Kali’s pole whipped viciously through the air. He saw it coming and nimbly stepped to the side, but could not avoid being hit. Then the other two men came at him from left and right. Shanmugam defended himself carefully, getting in a blow now and then. His pole twisted and turned with incredible speed. But, little by little, they moved forward, pressing him into a corner.

Another blow, this time on his shins, almost brought him down. His grip on the pole relaxed for a moment as his face contorted with agony. One more minute, he thought, hold on for just one more minute, imagine Raji is nearly home by now, almost by the banyan tree. He straightened and faced Kali and his men again. But the long bamboo poles landed on his body oftener and oftener, on his head, shoulders, chest, till Shanmugam’s eyes became dull and glassed with pain. Kali swing the stick around expertly and Shanmugam fell in a huddled heap.

“So much for the meddling rogue.” Kali brushed himself down and tucked up his dhoti. “Now for the girl.” “Not yet,” croaked Shanmugam trying to get up. “I’m not done yet.” Raji’s near the temple now, he thought, only a minute more, she needs just a minute more to enter the mango grove and she’ll be home. The unarmed man who had been watching the fight got up and aimed a brutal kick at him. “Our friend wants some more, does he?” Shanmugam lay on the ground silent and inert. The four men picked up their poles and walked rapidly down the path to the village.

A few minutes later, a bush rustled and a face peered cautiously out of the leaves. Raji looked around carefully and emerged from her hiding place. She ran across to where Shanmugam lay. “Oh, my dearest!” she cried and took his head on her lap, wiping his face with her sari. He opened his eyes and gazed at her, questioning with terrified eyes. “It’s all right,” she answered soothingly, “they’ve all gone down the road to the village after me. I ran up to the second milestone, cut across the Nazar’s fields and doubled back as quickly as I could. Now, lie down quietly, you’ll be all right soon.” She sat on the dusty road with her lover’s head on her lap, waiting for help, in the twilight.