The Young King - II

“Siddhas” whispered Sunetra to Shantanu. Sure enough, Shantanu saw them. The Siddhas were wandering ascetics who wore nothing but a loincloth to hide their nakedness. They were men who had supposedly attained the eight attributes of perfection or the eight siddhis. Endued with magical powers, they were said to be capable of transforming themselves at will changing their size and shape. They spoke with others only when it was absolutely necessary and even among themselves, they spoke only rarely and even then in monosyllables. Sensitive to jibes and even to the occasional stare, they were known to flare up easily in anger and curse people, one of the few times that they talked to others outside their sect.

                Shantanu saw them in all shapes and sizes, tall ones and short, bald ones and great bearded ones with heavy knots of matted hair. Some had anointed themselves with ash and some had covered their foreheads in vermilion, but they were all without exception naked save the loincloth that they wore on a girdle around the waist. The group of huntsmen stopped on the edge of the camp on a signal from Sunetra.

                “Stay behind” he said in a low voice turning to the followers. “The king and I will be entering the camp.” The two attendants carrying the deer set down their load on the grass as Shantanu and Sunetra came down from their horses. They slipped out of their leather shoes and walked towards the camp, barefoot. The Siddhas considered leather as unclean and impure, to wear shoes inside their camp would be a certain invitation of their wrath. As they neared the camp, the duo heard a low singing as well as the laughter of women. It came from somewhere to the rear of the camp near the river and they made their way among the tents in the direction of the voices, trying their best to ignore the stares of the naked mendicants. Skirting their way around the centre where the fires were burning, they were suddenly struck by a pungent, stinging odour which had them coughing with tears in their eyes. Shantanu gripped his uncle’s arm in fear.

                “Go... go... gold” the old warrior whispered. “They are trying to make gold.”

                But of course, thought Shantanu. The Siddhas were rumoured to have learnt to turn anything into gold, but even among the Siddhas that knowledge was not common. A siddha had to undergo rigorous experiments and learn it firsthand. The most accomplished among the Siddhas knew two great secrets, the ability to transform material into gold and the ability to concoct amrita, the elixir of life which could bring back the dead. Shantanu was wondering about the mysterious lives of the naked and holy mendicants, when they came to a tent of black hide from which the low singing was emanating.

                His uncle was smiling. “Charanas” he said. “Come child. We may be able to rest here after all.” He entered the tent. Shantanu followed him inside.

                Inside the tent sitting around the embers of a fire were seven men dressed in the black robes of the celestial singers who called themselves the charanas. Some claimed that they were gods, others were less sure of their divinity, but they too like the Siddhas were wandering men, who sang praises of the gods. They walked bare foot and hence the name charanas, which meant barefooted in the language of the gods. The charanas, unlike the Siddhas were friendly folk and Shantanu found his uncle whispering softly to the black robed singer in the centre, obviously the leader. Beside him sat four women of fair complexion and lustrous black hair. Shantanu wondered whether they were the wives of the charanas, when they leader stood up.

                “Let us go and talk to them my sire” he said beaming, revealing crooked and large white teeth. Sunetra beckoned Shantanu to follow as he left the tent with the leader. Once again, Shantanu more than a little puzzled at the happenings followed his uncle back outside the tent. The charana led uncle and nephew to the fires.

                “Stay here” he said hoarsely and leaving them at the edge of the clearing in the centre of which the fires blazed, walked to the biggest fire of the three where a man sat pouring libations into the fire. Is that soma, wondered Shantanu as he saw the man bend low and whisper to the naked priest who was feeding the fire. The priest stared back at the charana, his eyes registering displeasure and the charana once again whispered to him. This time, he had said something more convincing for the siddha nodded in agreement. The charana rose beaming once again and walked back to the two royals waiting for him.

                “You can rest here for the night my sires” he said. “Of course you will have to leave your horses outside the camp and any arms that you may be carrying. Also, no leather and no meat. If you have been successful in your hunt and want to enjoy the spoils, I suggest you finish the dinner outside the camp. There is another clearing beyond the bend in the river to the north. It is downwind from here and will not carry the scents of your dinner to our holy friends.”

                “Much obliged sir” said Sunetra. “The king of Hastinapura will remember your help.”

                “Well, I certainly hope so” replied the charana winking at Shantanu. “Perhaps you may visit us after you have dined on meat. I hear soma agrees very well to the palate after meat.” He laughed loudly.

                “We will be grateful” said the uncle. The black robed singer walked away, back in the direction of his tent. Sunetra turned to Shantanu.

                “I will go and give instructions to the other my king. Why don’t you refresh yourself by the river? I will meet you at the tent of the charanas in some time.”

                “That is agreeable to me uncle. Perhaps you can ask the attendants to get the deer cooking soon. I am famished indeed.”

                “We will not be having venison for dinner tonight child. Do not take everything these people say literally. They are just testing our faith and our respect for them. We will partake of the fruits and the roots that they have. It will be an insult to them to ask them to refuse the food that they serve us after asking them to take us in for the night. The charanas will not mind too much, but I cannot say the same about the mendicants.”

                Shantanu’s heart fell a little. But his uncle continued “Of course the part about the soma was true. We shall most definitely partake of that as well” he winked at his nephew. “See you in a bit” he said turning towards where they had left behind their attendants.

 Shantanu sighed and went in the other direction, where the Ganga flowed gently beyond the edge of the camp.