Kevin Missal - Raavanputr Meghnad: The Prince of Lanka

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RAAVANPUTR MEGHNAD

Kevin Missal

To the Reader

Before you begin reading, I want you to keep in mind a few disclaimers. This is not a book based on the Ramayana. There are a lot of characters from the Ramayana that I have not included since they were not required for the narrative that I was constructing. My focus and story arc in this book have been purely from the point of view of Raavanputr Meghnad.

Also, some scenes and situations have been imagined and reconstructed and is not completely faithful to the original historical source, in order to fit the needs of Ravanputr Meghnads story.

Thank you so much for reading this. You may turn the page now.

PROLOGUE

Laxman

It was the seventh month of the war

Laxman knew death now.

He had been close to it because of one man: Meghnad.

But not today. The son of the mighty Raavan hadnt shown his face today and Laxman was glad. He almost felt lucky.

Lets hope I stay lucky.

As he plunged the sword deep into the gut of the Rakshas beneath his feet, Laxman scanned his surroundings for Raghav his brother, the Avatar of Vishnu. He was nowhere to be seen. The war had turned messy, the darkred soil buried deep in the confines of the fiery desert where the orange sun flared its scarlet rays.

The stench of the piled corpses infiltrated the air, with the sound of the clashing of blades and the crushing of bones reverberating in Laxmans ears.

He felt weak. His scars throbbed.

But he had not given up.

We are close to winning today.

Laxman felt someone grabbing him from behind massive arms holding him tightly, squeezing his lungs out. He could almost feel his breath quaver.

He was fainting.

Come on!

He tried to writhe out of the grip that imprisoned him. But the more he tried, the weaker he felt.

His blade had toppled from his hands and the heavy set of arms was now making matters worse for his body.

He turned his head a little to face the dark-skinned Rakshas, the man responsible for his breathlessness.

Damn you!

With all his might, he pushed himself back, rooting his right foot on the ground and then struggled more, desperately trying to lean towards one of the fallen daggers, but his efforts went in vain. He called out to his Vanar soldiers but they were busy fighting their own battles. And before he could do anything more

He heard it.

The trumpets blared and the sound of the heavy set of wheels entered the battleground.

No.

Everyones eyes, including his, turned towards the chariot upon which a bulky, muscular man stood his ground. The Vanars squeaked in fear. The Rakshasas applauded and roared.

And he knew why.

It was none other than

Indrajit, also known as Meghnad the unparalleled warrior in this war.

Guess I wasnt that lucky today. I should have killed him when I had the chance.

He was tall and he had a black breastplate over which a shining orb gleamed. He wore a tilak on his forehead with a red bindi which was similar to the marks on the foreheads of those who worshipped Lord Shiva. His skin was as dark as charcoal, while he sported a thick bushy mustache.

He had two swords one dangling from his hip and another latched on to his back, sheathed in a scabbard of pigskin.

My prince! cried the Rakshas who was holding on to Laxman. Kill him.

Laxman tried to push himself away from the Rakshas but failed. He frantically searched for someone on his side in the crowd, hoping someone would come to his rescue.

But there were none.

Meghnad came forward as his army continued to fight the Vanars, his hulking presence towering over the frozen figure of Laxman. Laxman saw the subtle features of the Raavanputr his light grey eyes highlighted with a scar across his left eye brow.

Kill him, my prince! The Rakshas sneered again.

Laxman would have used his charms, but not today. Indrajit earned his reputation not by being fooled, but by being decisive in his actions.

And this quality of his was evident when he pulled out his sword and swung it in Laxmans direction

Laxman closed his eyes, as fear choked him, his heartbeat rose. And for a moment, he wanted to feel pain, but couldnt. Perplexed, he opened his eyes and he felt the Rakshass grip loosening as the sword wavered while stuck in his head, blood spurting as it fell down, flat on the floor.

The Rakshas was killed by his own prince, Meghnad the vanquisher of Indra, the conqueror of Amravati. He was the wielder of several atomic weapons and invincible to the point where his involvement meant the victory of Raavan, his father.

But his action spoke otherwise.

What was more surprising to Laxman was that the very man who had been trying to kill him for so many days had just saved him.

Why would you do this?

And how are you alive after the incident at Nikumbila Hills?

Meghnad displayed no emotion. He was impassive; as if killing his own kind didnt affect him. Laxman remained confused until he saw what Meghnad was doing.

He was kneeling down. And then he pulled out his sword, presenting it to Laxman, as if he was surrendering.

And then to Laxmans sheer surprise he uttered the words Kill me.

450 days before the war

1. Meghnad

When he entered, the crowd ceased to speak.

His feet hit the granite floor of the grandiose Indrasabha the open courthouse of the Devas. The structure of the entire place was semicircular. One half of the area was occupied by the civilians Gandharvs, the servants of the Devas; Apsaras, the beautiful women, and the Manav immigrants that had escaped the ills of Illavarti to be here at the heart of Swarglok Amravati Kingdom. And the other half was where the high fifteen feet pillars over which the King and the Queen of the Devas sat. Swarg, as people thought, wasnt the heavens but a huge island, situated miles away from Illavarti.

This ages Indra, Rocana, was there, leaning forward, his silver hair dancing over the sides of his face. His overalls were white and he had a pale demeanour. He was clean-shaven and his posture was heroic.

But to Meghnad he resembled a puny girl, with flowing locks of hair.

His wife, Sachi, was short, with beady eyes, not the kind you would expect to be a queen. In fact, she looked like any ordinary woman.

How boring!

Meghnad expected the queen of the Devas to look angelic. But alas!

The guards pushed Meghnad to the front where he could be under the striking, pellucid light filtering through the mosaic from above. He narrowed his gaze, grinning, as he saw Rocana studying him.

My lord, Im flattered. But frankly, I would prefer to speak to a woman, Meghnad said, shrugging as the chains that bound him crackled.

The guard next to Meghnad said, We saw him trespassing.

Rocana shook his head. You are the son of Dashanan, arent you? This Indra was young. Meghnad had heard how the Indras lived for two hundred to three hundred years solely because of their consumption of Soma drinks that came from the Somalata plants which they brewed here in Swarglok. Years ago, they brewed it in Illavarti as well. The Somas had anti-ageing qualities and gave immense strength and power in its full capacity, though they could harm a weak-minded persons brain, making them go mad.

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