Avishi: Warrior Queen from the Rig Veda

By Saiswaroopa Iyer

Long before the times of Draupadi and Sita
Immortalised in the hymns of the Rig Veda
But forgotten to the memory of India
Was the warrior queen with an iron leg, Vishpala.


Brought up in the pristine forest school of Naimisha, Avishi reaches the republic of Ashtagani in search of her destiny. When Khela, the oppressive king of the neighbouring Vrishabhavati, begins to overwhelm and invade Ashtagani, Avishi rises to protect her settlement but at a high cost.

Separated from her love, her settlement broken, with a brutal injury needing an amputation of her leg, what can Avishi do to save herself?
Will her disability let her continue to be the warrior that she was?
Can she fight Khela and save everything dear to her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Oct 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9789354350290

Book preview

PROLOGUE

‘Home! My home!"

Lightning struck, brightening the sky and illuminating the dilapidated home. The threshold was familiar, only now it was broken. A bat flew out at that very moment. The wooden beam that held the roof creaked and the characteristic smell of rot greeted her nostrils.

This was my home! Avishi cried out. The rumbling from the skies drowned her cry. It had happened that night too! The torrential rain—the lightning—the masked killer! Avishi found herself stepping back. Rage replaced every other emotion. The nightmare had haunted her ever since. The masked killer. The serpentine scar. Fresh wound on his hand. And occasional lightning. Like one possessed, she walked through the entrance, her pace unhindered by a couple of tumbling bricks.

What took me away from here?

Destiny! The voice behind her was low yet compelling. Unaffected yet grave.

Who is that? Avishi’s hand closed around the dagger that hung on the copper girdle around her waist.

The eyes—bloodshot yet kind—unkempt hair and that ever-ready smile. The man was a stranger and yet that gleam in his eyes made her feel as though she had known him for a long time.

My Little Queen! Don’t you recognise your ‘elephant’?

An unknown voice sounded from the depths of her mind. Another tiny voice answered.

I am the queen and you will be my guard!

No. I will be the queen’s elephant.

Avishi saw him beam. Like he used to. A lone tear gathered in the corner of one eye.

Loha! she gasped and approached him. Loha, my elephant! Are you for real? In response, she felt him stroke her hair and nod. This was my home before I landed in the forest school of Naimisha! You took me away from that masked killer. You saved me!

You’re finally home! This city has long awaited your return, Saukratavi, daughter of kind Sukratu!

Saukratavi, daughter of Sukratu! she repeated and saw him nod. Sukratu was my father! I had a father!

A very loving one. Gentle, loyal and, unfortunately, naive, Loha sighed, who was killed in cold blood and then branded a traitor.

Traitor?

The man sighed, clenching his fists. The tales that spread around the city, he shook his head, are easier to spread when the dead can’t defend themselves.

Avishi looked around, feeling a sharp stab of pain and bereavement. Father Sukratu! He was caught in a conspiracy? She saw him nod, this time pain writ on his face like it did on hers. He left that day. And never returned. I remember everything now!

Avishi collapsed on the floor. The dust stuck to her clothes. She could piece everything together now. Her nightmares, Maharishi Vahni’s instructions, her journey back to the neighbouring Ashtagani! The rivalry! Like it was all meant to happen!

That masked assassin who attacked me—you know who he is, don’t you? He must have something to do with the conspiracy!

You know him, my child.

Avishi stared at him, shaking her head only to get an emphatic nod in response.

You know him too well to not recognise him! These fourteen years of waiting have not been for nothing!

Her eyes closed. Her fingers curled. Her lips quivered and then pursed to suppress the sob that racked her entire body. The monster! He … he … I shall…

Patience child! You know he is extremely powerful.

Avishi looked up, her heart aching to hear Loha’s voice. But only a blackened wall stared back at her.

Leaping to her feet, she looked around. He was gone! Her saviour, her guardian, was gone!

Chapter One

Fourteen years before at Vrishabhavati

I am the queen! This will be my throne! The seven-year-old chirped, leaping from the middle of the porch towards the broken mortar which served as a mock throne. You will be my guard!

Guard? the man pondered, scratching his unkempt beard and then declared, No. He shook his head and smiled, seeing her indignant eyes. I will be the queen’s elephant. He beamed.

Sukratu stepped out of the house to see his daughter in action, perching herself on the tramp Loha’s back, pretending in all earnestness that he was her elephant. He smiled and was about to set out for his duty as the night guard of the king. Sudden lightning appeared in the eastern skies. Sukratu had barely walked a few paces when deafening thunder made him instinctively turn towards home. He heaved a sigh, finding Loha shielding the girl the way he would protect his own child.

Father, don’t go, the girl pleaded.

Sukratu smiled and shifted his gaze towards the sky. He saw dark clouds loom over the city. The monsoon winds had started to make their presence felt. He had to reach the palace soon. Isn’t my little queen brave? he called out.

The girl nodded. He saw the fear fade from her eyes. From her heart. She knew she was the queen! Pride filled his heart and he ached to stay home but duty beckoned. Tearing his gaze away from the one he treasured the most in his life, braving the drizzle that would soon turn into a storm, he unwillingly walked towards the king’s residence. Sukratu’s house was in the third ring of the concentric structure that was the architectural marvel of Vrishabhavati. The innermost ring was the centre of all trade activity of the city and held the structure that served as the king’s residence. Here no wealth or goods could change hands without the king’s knowledge and approval. The residences of the noblemen formed the second and third rings surrounding this central circle. The guards and soldiers formed the outermost circle with the common citizens living around them in the rest of the four, rather dispersed, circles.

As per protocol, Sukratu approached General Ugra’s residence quite ahead of his reporting time—an hour before moonrise. He walked into the empty courtyard. But the rain made it impossible for him to stand there any longer. He knocked at the giant wooden door fervently. The doors creaked as a strange woman clad in a dark-indigo-hued garment opened them and glared at him with a frown.

General Ugra, Sukratu knew, was never faithful to one woman. His superior’s romantic exploits were not his concern either. But something about the woman at the door disconcerted him. Please let General Ugra know that…

He has already left for the palace! the woman frowned before attempting to shut the door.

What? How ca… Sukratu’s words hung in the air as the door was slammed shut on his face and the woman disappeared. Something did not feel right. He knocked on the door again, firmly this time. Any change in the reporting time would have been announced the day before and he remembered that nothing of the sort had happened. His knocks went unanswered. Frowning and muttering under his breath, Sukratu hurried towards an empty cowshed three houses away from Ugra’s place, hoping to catch his companions who he knew would be equally surprised.

The first to arrive there was Khela, the eighteen-year-old guard, holding a metal shield above his head. The newest addition to the king’s guard, Khela was related to General Ugra and Sukratu felt that his position in the king’s guard was largely a result of undue favours that Ugra showered upon an otherwise impudent boy.

Sukratu! By the great Varuna, I should have come to you earlier! Khela hurried towards him. Pausing for breath, he added, Our platoon has been given relief tonight! It was a sudden decision and I personally informed all the others.

Relief for tonight? That happens only when…

Our guarding hours changed from night to day, Khela completed in a hurry. Now come with me. He turned towards the western direction and the javelin he held started to sway dangerously and came close to grazing Sukratu’s arm.

The older guard’s instincts made him dodge the cut. Where? Sukratu hissed, visibly annoyed, first with the fact that he was kept in the dark about the change in guarding hours and then about Khela’s irreverent behaviour. And watch who your weapon hurts, boy.

Khela shrugged and changed his hold on the javelin. "We are now going to the place, he winked, stretching his hand in that direction. Follow me. This is the only night we get to have some fun."

Sukratu did not move. The place, he knew, implied the tavern where wine was served. We cannot drink tonight, Khela. When do we have to report tomorrow? By sunrise?

You ask too many questions. The rest of us are there too!

That does not answer my question.

Well, I don’t know and I don’t care. The palace is paying for the wine. Are you coming or not?

The last sentence sounded more like a threat than an invitation. Sukratu had an urge to give the youth a piece of his mind and storm back home. His daughter would be overjoyed to see him before she went to sleep. It gnawed at Sukratu’s heart every day to leave her in Loha’s care—the tramp who had begged him for shelter about six months ago and then became a part of his life. The girl had liked him instantly and had begged Sukratu to let Loha live with them and he, despite his misgivings about the tramp’s origins and his unkempt appearance, could not refuse his only daughter. Over time, Sukratu felt grateful for Loha’s company. With him around, his daughter did not have to be all by herself every night. The guard’s home would have been unguarded if not for that stranger. Sukratu brushed aside these thoughts and had almost decided to go home when the thought of meeting other senior guards and clarifying the confusion struck him. He followed Khela’s lead, making no attempt to hide his displeasure.

When they reached the tavern, Sukratu, to his dismay, found many of his brothers-in-arms deeply drunk. When did they reach here and when did they…

Quite a while before. I just forgot to tell you in advance!

Sukratu’s eyes scrutinised the men and women of the tavern who were serving wine to the guards. There were no other citizens or travellers present.

Just for us, the whole night! Khela said as if reading his thoughts, bringing him an earthen goblet.

The older guard accepted the goblet, taking his first sip with a sense of foreboding.

Where were you all this time, old friend? the voice belonged to Tunga, one of the senior guards in the platoon.

The grin on his friend’s face brought a smile to Sukratu’s lips. Tunga, what’s with this sudden change in our guarding hours?

The king … that imbecile ... has finally remembered that we are humans too! Tunga guffawed, emptying his goblet and waving vigorously at a serving woman, who obliged with a seductive wink.

She approached them, skilfully distributing her attention between both the men, winking at Tunga and pouting her lips at Sukratu. Her brows rose at Sukratu’s filled cup. Don’t keep the sura and this sundari waiting, my love. Serving Tunga his wine, she placed her fingers upon Sukratu’s shoulders, digging her nails into his skin for a moment, locking her gaze with his and turned around swiftly, letting her light upper garment rest on his face for a fleeting moment.

It was an unquestionable and not-so-subtle invitation and Sukratu knew it. His attention, though, was caught by the colour of the garment, which was indigo. All the women of the tavern were wearing clothes of the same colour, and so did the woman he saw in General Ugra’s house! Was the woman at Ugra’s house lying that he was at the palace when all the while he was still at home? If the general and the whole platoon of the night guard were lying down drunk, who was minding the security of the king? Sukratu looked at the rest of the guards. No one seemed sober enough to talk. The only sober man, Khela, had disappeared!

By the Great Varuna! Sukratu exclaimed aloud and rushed out, pushing the woman who tried to stop him out of the way.

He raced to the king’s residence as fast as his legs could carry him. The huge wooden gates of the palace were closed and secured from inside. The rain lashed, drowning his cries. Misgivings regarding the king’s welfare made him shudder. He had to meet General Ugra. Something told him that the general had his reasons to send the whole platoon of guards to enjoy a drunk night. He was a guard who had sworn to protect the king with his life and the general owed him an answer. Sukratu rushed to General Ugra’s house, located in the first ring of residences built around the royal mansion, determined to confront him.

That, Sukratu realised later, was the biggest mistake of his life.

At the gates of the general’s residence, he saw a familiar figure hurrying out of his house, carrying a heavy bundle on his shoulders. General Ugra! he called out, feeling relieved.

The figure was startled, and the bundle fell to the ground. Sukratu came to a sudden halt as he realised it wasn’t a bundle after all but a blood-drenched corpse. A stroke of lightning from the sky revealed the face and the very familiar greying curls. Sukratu froze for a long moment before he could speak again.

K ... King...

Something hit him on the head even before he could utter the name. Sukratu staggered, reeling at the impact, clutching at his longsword in a vain attempt to defend himself against the next blow.

Finish him! he heard the general shout behind him.

Before he turned around, Sukratu felt cold metal tear into his back. Lightning struck, revealing the silhouette of the person. Sukratu recognised him. Khela! The javelin stabbed him again. Thunder drowned his screams. Falling to the ground with the weapon still stuck to his back, Sukratu lifted his sword and managed to slash Khela’s palm, though the latter, unlike him, was vigilant and alert. Steering his mind away from the menacing duo, knowing very well that he could not last more than a few moments, Sukratu’s thoughts went to his innocent daughter. She would now languish as an orphan, remaining in the dark about the monsters who killed her father. Or would they kill her too?

Sukratu would never know.

Life at the outer rings of Vrishabhavati went on as usual. The citizens laboured on, undisturbed by the news of the king being murdered by a treacherous guard; it was just one of the countless assassinations in the history of the kingdom. It did not matter to them that the new king, Ugra, ascended the throne the very day after his predecessor had been killed. As far as their memory went, they had never heard of a king who commanded their loyalty and respect enough to mourn his death. Whosoever occupied the throne is of no consequence to their miseries, as well as their joys. No king in their memory had ever lived up to his responsibility in a way that made his sudden demise count. Their lives continued, their hearts rendered numb at all the horrific power games and murders in the inner circles. In the midst of the indifference filled with perpetual melancholy, nobody noticed a ragged beggar move among the shadows before he left the gates of the city, carrying a near unconscious child over his shoulder—a child who was still in shock over all that she had witnessed.

Chapter Two

Ashtagani

Wait! Don’t step forward.

The twelve-year-old froze. He turned around, his eyes widening in protest at the sudden alarm.

Satya, I sense something...

Mother, but…

Placing her palm over his mouth, his mother dragged him towards the bushes.

There is nothing there, he whispered but in vain.

Dhruti, the famed warrior and huntress of Ashtagani, could feel a presence much before any man or woman in the settlement could. Pushing Satya behind her, she swept her gaze towards the opening of the cave. Nothing moved. No sound greeted her ears or Satya’s.

Stay here, she instructed her son and emerged out of the bushes onto the clearing. As her eyes fell on the marshy path leading to the cave, she gasped at the familiar outline of footprints.

Human. Who might that be?

Dhruti knew that the hour before dawn was too early for any citizen of Ashtagani to walk towards the Sacred Cave. Even the hunting team was not up when she had set out. Her son Satya had followed her, leaving behind her mate Vivasvan, the town doctor, sound asleep. Relaxing her hold on the bow which was slung on her shoulder, Dhruti took out her javelin and signalled Satya to follow her, keeping his distance. She could not rule out the presence of the dacoits of Dandaka, who were a menace to the peaceful settlements of Jambudvipa. Noiselessly, the mother–son duo made their way towards the mouth of the cave. The unsettling calm was disturbing.

Her caution had not been in vain. The moment Dhruti stepped into the Sacred Cave, a noose fell upon her neck, upsetting her balance. With her lightning instincts, she extricated herself and surprised her attacker despite his hidden vantage point. She then leapt upon the dazed stranger, brandishing her javelin and aimed at his neck, stopping only by an inch when she saw him raise his hands in surrender.

Who are you?!

She breathed easier, seeing the unkempt face of a near-famished traveller dressed in rags and panting for breath. Just a tramp. He could mean no harm.

Are you new to Ashtagani? She asked in a gentler tone, while still pointing her javelin at him. The man nodded and in the dim light, she realised how weak his eyes looked.

Help, he managed to whisper, pointing towards the interior of the cave before collapsing to the ground.

Satya! she called out. The boy rushed in and examined the tramp while she went further in, spotting the thing that he had pointed at—a child, famished and unconscious. Her maternal instincts made Dhruti lift the girl gently into her arms. It was only when Satya sprinkled water from their gourd that the girl showed signs of consciousness.

She is burning with fever, Mother!

The concern in the boy’s eyes made her feel unsettled. She stared at the care with which he started to tend to the girl, who suddenly screamed out, as though in the throes of a nightmare. She settled back after the boy brushed her forehead. Satya, like his father, was a natural healer. Dhruti knew that she could save for later the pride she was feeling for her son’s healing skills. For now, there were more important matters to address. Bring your father. Tell him that two strangers need help.

And I’ll bring the herbs too! The boy sprinted in the direction of the settlement. Dhruti watched him as he neared the end of the clearing. Something in the air told her that she must not leave the helpless strangers alone. Far away, her son had reached another clearing. The western archway of Ashtagani was not far from there.

Thank you, she heard the tramp say, his voice weak and faltering, as he handed her back the empty gourd. We are headed towards the forest of Naimisha. Dhruti chose to not prod for more details until they were both in better shape.

I am Loha. The child could not take it anymore, the tramp continued.

Stay assured Loha, Dhruti smiled guiding him towards a rock just outside the mouth of the cave where he could sit and breathe in the fresh air. My mate Vivasvan is a doctor. He should be here soon and will tend to your child.

Loha leaned against the ridge and closed his eyes again, giving into a fitful sleep. He had fought hunger and weakness in the last three days, guarding Sukratu’s daughter who still did not know what befell her father. All they knew was that strange masked assassins broke into Sukratu’s home. The merciless monsters had almost succeeded in cutting the child’s throat. Had Loha not intervened and whisked her away into the darkness, they would have succeeded. The girl had not been completely conscious ever since. But Loha was too fearful to even stop at any doctor’s place at Vrishabhavati.

I shall hunt you some hare, Dhruti offered and started when something else caught her attention. She dared not breathe after she caught sight of a striped tail moving noiselessly along the bushes by their right.

Wake up! she hissed, nudging Loha with the blunt end of her javelin. Her gaze fervently swept across the bushes where the man-eating predator hid. In a flash, she notched the bronze-tipped arrow to her bamboo bow. The thicket seemed treacherous and still. Loha, she could sense, was not in any shape to put up any kind of defence.

At least guard the girl! she whispered, pushing him towards the mouth of the cave and blocked the entrance herself. Dhruti had started to hunt from a very young age. At the tender age of fourteen, she had fought off a hyena and a wolf. By the time she had crossed her teens, even a full-grown bear was no match for her. Ashtagani adored her and within no time, she had become the leader of their hunting team. She had single-handedly killed a wild boar and even a couple of bears. But facing a full-grown tiger all by herself was a first.

The man-eater had sensed the weaker prey and had stealthily made its way towards the cave. The beast was astonishingly noiseless for its size but in the faint light of the hour before the fast-approaching dawn, its gleaming eyes gave its presence away.

The tiger leapt into the air and so did the huntress after shooting the arrow, which found its mark. The scream was followed by a roar. The roar was louder when Dhruti again succeeded in driving her dagger into the predator’s flesh. Its paw tore into her shoulder. She screamed again, partly in pain and partly to alert someone from the settlement. The tiger pounced again, this time its wounded rage adding to its natural ferocity, but Dhruti was better prepared and ducked, retrieving her javelin.

Fire! Loha, can you light a fire? she shouted, hoping that Loha was aware enough to help her with a flame. But to her dismay, she heard no sound from inside.

The tiger attacked this time, swifter, both paws tearing into her arms. Undeterred by the blood oozing out, Dhruti drove her javelin into the beast’s forehead while narrowly escaping its snarling jaws. The tiger yelped in pain and pushed her away. As Dhruti hit the rock behind, the impact momentarily stunned her. Blood gushed freely from her limbs. Her hands could not afford to lose their grip over the javelin. Come what may, though, she would not let the man-eater past the mouth of the cave.

Loha!

The tiger only seemed to grow stronger with its wounds, and the woman who was deemed the tigress of Ashtagani summoned all her strength, her indomitable will pushing against her own failing limbs and the lack of all traces of hope. The predator growled, the gaze of its dilated pupils penetrating enough to melt the most courageous of hunters into a helpless daze. But the warrior in Dhruti was yet to concede. In desperation, she threw fistfuls of sand with her right hand, while still holding the javelin with her bloodied left hand.

The tiger had gained over the huntress. The oozing blood from its annoyingly valiant prey deepened its hunger. Even as pain tore through its belly, it ripped at the huntress’s flesh. So focused was the predator in fighting its foe that it did not sense movement behind it.

The sudden scorching at its hind made the beast fling Dhruti afar and turn around to find Loha brandishing a burning torch.

His concern rose when Loha saw a motionless Dhruti. But the monstrous beast had now turned towards him. To Loha, death seemed inevitable, the fire the only thing that kept it at bay.

Kill it! he shouted, desperation and resolve manifesting into a spurt of much-needed energy. Dhruti continued to move, her fingers still curled over the handle of her javelin. But to Loha’s dismay, her attempt to get back to her feet was in vain. Her cry of pain rent the air. Loha was not used to the sight of so much blood. The tiger leapt at him, dodging the flame. Loha did have primitive training in combat but was not trained to keep his grip on the weapon in the face of a terrifying predator like this. He prepared for the worst. But to his relief, Dhruti managed to push the javelin into the beast at its most vulnerable spot. Even as her vitality ebbed, she mounted on its back and gaining a foothold, twisted the weapon at a spot where the beast could feel the most pain.

With another blood-curdling roar, the tiger tried to dislodge the huntress but Dhruti prevailed this time. The beast winced and shook in vain under her as Dhruti held on to her weapon and drove it further down its throat. Summoning a strength that was unusual to even a beast of its size, the tiger finally turned around and threw its killer off its back. That strength sucked the last bit of its own life.

Vivasvan who had arrived on the scene stood rooted to the spot as droplets of his beloved’s blood fell upon his legs and her blood-drenched body dropped to the ground. She lay there before him, life oozing out of her with each passing minute. As he stood frozen, her lips curved and her eyes widened as though beckoning him, eyes that had never stopped bewitching him now reddened in pain. He saw her gaze alternate between him and Satya and stop at him again. The blood that was pooling around her told him that she was beyond saving. Seeing Dhruti’s eyes close forever, Vivasvan pulled his young son closer and dropped to the ground, his gut-wrenching cry filling the air.

Chapter Three

Naimisha

The forest of Naimisha was referred to as the enchanted forest by the people of Jambudvipa. It was a hub of learning, the centre of dharma. Spiritually realised rishis, who had the ability to converse with gods, had made Naimisha their place of residence. Its lush thickets and spaces inspired awe, devotion, admiration and fear among the people. The rulers and leaders sought out rishis to solve the various dilemmas they faced. Students of all disciplines aspired to learn from the teachers of Naimisha. Some commoners considered that even a visit to the holy forest earned them the grace of the Pantheon.

The ashram at the heart of the wilderness was a picture of serenity. The spacious thatched shed that was the council hall of the forest school of Naimisha was relatively empty. Medhahuta, the kulapati of Naimisha, opened his eyes after a five-hour meditation session. To his right, his soulmate Shrutishrava, the mahamatrika of Naimisha, spoke in a low voice to the group of young travelling rishis headed by their son, Shankha. A veteran traveller