Chapter 8: Manohra and Sudhana Kumara

Several years later …

The sun shone intensely in the late morning, sending glorious rays of golden orange into the world. Cottony white clouds dressed up the bright blue sky. A gentle wind caressed the branches and leaves of the trees. The air felt balmy.

Kembang Seri Wangi laid out the newly washed clothing of her family on a coconut husk fibre rope tied between two ciku trees not far from the family well. Her first task of the day was completed. Now fifteen years of age, she was a flower in early bloom, a young lady ambling through the first stages of womanhood.

A princess though she was, her dress was plain and her manner simple. Daughter of a royal house in exile, her lifestyle was no different to that of any other village girl in the neighbourhood. No court maiden to serve her every wish or desire. Every task she had she did it all by herself.

Pinang and Nibung were now both ten years old. Their gangly frames had begun to grow and lengthen with greater speed, promising the strapping builds of their late fathers.

They were now happy enough living with their adoptive family, Prince Adhi Vira and his daughter Kembang Seri Wangi, in Gunung Batu. No more were they tormented by those terrible nightmares of theirs, the result of tragic events that befell their parents in their home town of Bukit Panau during their younger days.

Still, one or the other of them would occasionally retreat into his own private session of solitary contemplation, when he would then prefer not to be disturbed by anyone. It was like he would then recall and reenact, in his own mind, some bitter event or other of his sad past. While from time to time, their two uncles, Utih and Uda, would come visiting, just to see how they were getting by.

"Father", Kembang Seri Wangi called out to Adhi Vira as he walked past in the direction of the family farm.

“Yes, Wangi,” Adhi Vira answered. “What is it?”

“Utih and Uda. Any idea when they'll come visiting again?”

"I can't say for certain, Wangi. Perhaps they're busy with things. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing in particular, Father. It's just that ... it's been quite a while since they last came. Well, I just thought it's about time they came to see Nibung and Pinang again."

"Come on, I know. You just want to hear Uda telling stories again."

"He's a fine talespinner, Father. He says he was always listening to stories from his grandfather when he was a child. It's been quite some time since I sat listening to a tale from him."

"I see. Not to worry. I'm sure that they'll come by here again when they're free of their duties."

§

"Right! Listen, you all,"  Utih spoke. “Today Uda is in good storytelling mood. I'd advise you all to each ask him now, to tell you the story you wish to hear."

Kembang Seri Wangi thought for a while. While Nibung dan Pinang started scratching their heads.

"How about Putera Dewa Muda?” suggested Pinang. "Would that be all right?"

"Or Puteri Mayang Angin,” Nibung now proposed.

"Or Puteri Gondang,” Pinang added.

"Puteri Manohra,” Nibung suggested another one.

"Cerang Tegayung.”

"Beringin Tenggarung.”

"Oh dear," Utih interjected. "You two kids are really something. Don't you ever want to try something else? I've heard those you suggested so many times."

"All right, Uncle Uda,” Pinang muttered. “Tell us whatever tale you wish to tell, we don't mind. As long as it's entertaining, and it captivates us."

"Yep," Nibung grunted. "Pinang is right. I agree.”

"Umm,” eventually Kembang Seri Wangi spoke. “How about we listen to something different today? What if we could hear a tale about ... the struggle of a people of a kingdom ... fighting against their foreign conquerors and liberating their land from foreign occupation? Do you have a story like that, Uda?"

"Hey!” Utih exclaimed loudly, startling the children. "Isn't that a great idea? Something like that would be sure to fire up one's imagination. That's just what I need!"

"All right," Uda had to acquiesce. "Today I shall tell you all exactly such a  story. How a people fought to free themselves and their land from oppression and occupation, with the help of the Sakti Muna Dragon, the Lady of the River and the Celestial Horse, in the Legend of Sejahtera Pura."

"Yay!" Pinang shouted. "This is going to be a great tale."

"Looks like I'm in luck," a girl's voice came from the direction of the steps leading up to the verandah of the house. She was carrying a basket of woven reed full of ripe ciku fruit on her head.

"Look who's here," Nibung slapped the floor. "It's Kenanga." The girl handed the basket she carried to Pinang and Nibung. The boys grabbed some fruit for themselves, then slid the basket onward to Utih and Uda.

"Hey, Kenanga," Kembang Seri Wangi addressed her best friend Kenanga Sari. They were bosom sisters suckled by the same woman, Kenanga Sari's mother, during childhood, after the death of Kembang Seri's mother. "I haven't seen you for some time. Come on up."

"You know our Uda, children," Utih interrupted. "When he gets some juicy ciku fruit, his stories get even juicier. Right Uda?"

Uda could hardly open his mouth now, let alone reply to Utih's aside. It was full of sweet fleshy ciku.

"Thanks, Kenanga. You always have such great timing," Uda wiped his mouth. "But children, before I go ahead with my main story for the day, allow me to present to you all the Legend of Manohra, as our curtain opener."

"Attaboy!" Nibung clapped his hands as one of his suggestions was eventually accepted. "Way to go, Uncle Uda."

"Darn you, Uncle Uda," Pinang protested. "So why not Dewa Muda?" his face began to darken.

"The Dewa Muda story we'll save for tomorrow," Utih patted Pinang on the shoulder. "Or else, Uncle Uda will not have much left to tell you all then."

Pinang's face brightened up again.

§

Once upon a time … a long, long time ago ... there was a land named Panchala. At the time it was divided into two, Uttara Panchala the northern part and Dakshina Panchala the southern one.

Uttara Panchala was prosperous because a benevolent dragon living there called Janma Chitraka, who presided over the local weather, made sure of sufficient rainfall which made the land fertile. Dakshina Panchala, on the other hand, remained poor and backward. The wise men there said that it was a result of the local king's unethical rule over his subjects.

Uttara Panchala was ruled by King Maha Dhana of Aditya Vamsa, the Dynasty of the Sun, and his queen Chandra Devi, from their palace in the city of Hastina Pura.

Maha Dhana and Chandra Devi had a son named Sudhana Kumara, whose name meant Fortunate Prince. The prince was a young man of many talents. He could speak many languages, sing and dance with elegant grace, play all kinds of musical instruments beautifully, and fight as fiercely and skilfully as any warrior. Above all, however, he excelled as an archer, which gained him fame far and wide, and for which he received the moniker True Arrow.

As Sudhana Kumara came to an age appropriate for marriage, the king and queen scoured near and far to find a suitable bride for their son. Despite all their efforts, no young maiden proposed to them by anyone satisfied their requirements. A maiden offered either had some fault of physique or anatomy, or was too clumsy or not good looking enough, or lacked in intelligence, poise and grace, fair courtly manners, or good breeding. The royal couple, however, never gave up and persevered with their endeavour. They offered a handsome prize to anyone who could find a maiden good enough in their eyes for their son.

It so happened that on the fringes of Uttara Panchala there lived a hunter by the name of Halaka, whose hut lay by the edge of a forest known as Hima Vanta Forest, at the foot of a mountain called Mount Meru. He had also once met Prince Sudhana Kumara during an archery tournament, where the two became acquainted and shared hunting stories and experiences between them.

One day, Halaka felt the call of the wild again. He let his heart have its way, riding his faithful horse into the forest, accompanied by a wolf he had kept since finding it abandoned by its mother in the woods as a pup.

The king of Dakshina Panchala, meanwhile, had summoned a wizard priest and commanded him to do what he could to make the dragon Janma Chitraka shift from Uttara Panchala to Dakshina Panchala to change the latter's fortunes. On his way towards the dragon's lair, the priest met the hunter Halaka. The two men got on quite well at first, until the priest blurted out his main mission. Halaka vehemently disagreed with him, and their intitially friendly conversation rapidly developed into a heated argument about the priest's intentions. In a moment of rage, Halaka gave the priest a big whack on the head, inadvertently killing him.

Halaka continued his journey until he met Janma Chitraka and told the dragon his story. Halaka was rewarded by Janma Chitraka and his dragon clan with much gold and jewellery, as well as a magic hunter's net that would capture any prey. Halaka then moved on with his hunt.

Exhausted after a long journey, Halaka had laid down to rest, and he slept heavily from late afternoon through dusk. Waking up fully refreshed, he went ambling on, his path revealing itself to him under a grandly luminous night sky. Then it began to feel like something, somehow, was urging him on. Letting his horse wander in no direction in particular, he reached the foot of a hill, and climbed it slowly until he reached the other side. He rode down, then proceeded along a valley running between that hill and another bigger hill.

As Halaka rode further along, he saw a large lake rimmed by thickly clustering bushes on one edge, seemingly bathed in shimmering light. He approached it with care and stealth, coaxing both his horse and his wolf to keep silent, lest the place hid some danger he could not yet perceive. While the other side of the lake dazzled in the scintillating radiance of a full moon.

As Halaka got closer to the lake's rim, what he saw surprised him beyond anything he had seen before. It was a group of young maidens, seven of them to the count, all of exquisite beauty, each one a spitting image of the next, dressed in the finest apparel of multiple hues. Strangely, every maiden had a pair of wings and a tail like a bird's, like they were all some hybrid of bird and woman.

Nibung and Pinang were now drawn even deeper into the tale, their mouths gaping bigger, their eyes blinking less for fear of missing some vital story part.

Then Halaka recalled the tale he had heard from a sage monk he had met in the forest after he had left the dragon's lair. That lake must be the Lake Anu Dasha of the monk's story, and the seven maidens must be the seven princesses of a tribe called the Kinnara, the females of whom were called Kinnari.

That tribe was said to be descended from the mythical man bird Garuda, steed of Lord Vishnu. As the monk had said, the princesses, once in full flight, could fly at enormous speeds, and they would leave their own realm and come to bathe at the lake once every full moon.

When each of the maidens was about to enter the lake, she would take off her wings and tail, and place them neatly beside a big tree by the lake's edge. What surprised the hunter, even further, was that when the maidens detached their birdly parts, they then looked like normal human females, their remarkable beauty apart. The last of them to enter the water, to Halaka's observation, seemed to be of the greatest elegance and poise among the seven.

'If only I could catch that one, I would present her as a gift to Prince Sudhana Kumara, it would make him so glad,' Halaka mused.

'But then, if I were to rush her, she'd get terrribly scared, as would the other six maidens. They'd all scramble for their wings and tails, and fly away from this lake and not come back for a long time,' the hunter reconsidered.

Halaka cracked his head further ... and then it occurred to him. Slowly and stealthily, he slithered through the shrubs and bushes, taking absolute care to make no sound at all, until he came close to the big tree. He gathered the wings and tail of the last maiden to disrobe, took them to where he had tied his horse, and hid himself.

§

"Well, what're you waiting for then, Manohra?" urged Tara, one of the maidens. "Come on in. The water's nice and cool."

"Father says to always watch out for them humans," Anoushka glided about on the lake's face. "He says they like to hunt and kill for fun."

"What a strange tribe," muttered Khushandra as she emerged from a shallow dive. "They must be violent and dangerous."

"I would give them a wide berth," Priyanka rinsed her hair.

"But that old fellow who lives in that cave around the hill never seems to give us any bother," Divya played with a fish.

"Naah, that one is not an ordinary human," Madhuri lay floating on her back. "He's a monk and a sage. All he does is meditate, contemplate and pray."

"But you can't really tell though, can you?" Priyanka reasoned. "Appearances can be deceiving. Who knows what's there on the back of his mind?"

"Perhaps they're not that strange after all," Manohra at last waded into the water, "if only we could get to know them a bit better."

"Oh no," Khushandra scrubbed herself with some fragrant leaves which she had crushed and pummeled. "I don't think I would like to. They don't really sound like my cup of tea."

Halaka continued listening in to their chatter and gossip. He understood nothing of what they said, since they spoke in their own tongue. It might as well have been the warbling of birds for all it was worth. But still they sounded to him more or less just like any ordinary group of human maidens, he reflected.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7OZfAImves

Then the maidens started singing. Their voices were much more melodious than that of a female human, Halaka thought. They had such a pleasant calming effect on him, lulling him, making him forget his immediate concerns. He lay down and closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the sounds and merging with the ambience.   

When the seven Kinnari princesses had finished bathing, they made their way to the lake's bank, one by one, and moved towards the tree where they had placed their clothing, tails and wings. They put on their garments, then their wings, then their tails. Except for the last of them, who could not find hers.

At that moment, Halaka approached the big tree and threw his magic hunter's net over the last princess. His stunned quarry, now bewildered and aghast, started flailing her arms and legs wildly to free herself from the net. All her efforts were in vain though. The more she struggled, the more the net tightened around her. While her sisters somehow managed to hastily put on their clothing, wings and tails and scrambled away, flying high and fast into the sky.

Against her vehement protestations, Halaka bound the princess he caught firmly, carried her back home on his horse while he himself went on foot, then immediately proceeded to Hastina Pura to present her to his good friend and master Prince Sudhana Kumara.

"Good heavens," Nibung interrupted. "Such a wicked man, that hunter Halaka."

§

Prince Sudhana Kumara had only heard of the Kinnari from the legends told to him before. He was pleased beyond measure when his hunter friend presented him with a real live Kinnari princess. She was beautiful beyond measure, better looking than any human maiden that he had ever met. He did everything he could to make the Kinnari princess happy in his palace and remain there of her own free will. Not that she had that much of a choice though.

But the prince was otherwise a kind man. He took especially good care of the Kinnari princess, provided her with all her needs and wants, and always looked after the smallest things regarding her welfare.

 

Nevertheless, Sudhana Kumara's first efforts to win her over were flatly rebuffed. They were simply an exercise in futility. She saw him as her captor rather than a potential friend. Their inability to communicate with each other did not make matters any easier. She rejected his overtures repeatedly, often just ignoring the food and tidbits which he himself brought for her, choosing to go hungry rather than interact with him.

Sudhana Kumara, however, never lost heart. Especially now that he had become hopelessly infatuated with Manohra. He simply persisted. Eventually, his patience was rewarded and she gradually warmed to him. He started teaching her the human language, while she introduced to him the Kinnari tongue. She told him that her name was Manohra, which meant Charming Fairy.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agIIXyZ7RQU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nfcJX2b6y4

Eventually, the two fell in love with each other. After several months of courtship, a grand wedding was conducted with all the pomp and pageantry befitting the marriage of a prince. A charming exotic dance, performed by a troupe of young dancers trained and tutored by none other than Manohra herself, turned into a high point among the festivities.

Soon after, Prince Sudhana Kumara was officially appointed the Crown Prince, and his bride accordingly became the Crown Princess. Still, he kept Manohra's wings and tail in a secret place, which only he and his mother the queen knew, for fear that Manohra might one day succumb to the pangs of longing for her own homeland, and just decide to fly away.

Not long after the wedding, Halaka was rewarded with substantial wealth by the queen for his part in bringing Manohra and Sudhana Kumara together. While the king made the hunter prefect of his home province, as reward for saving the dragon Janma Chitraka, keeper of the weather in his kingdom, from harm.

Every now and again Manohra would think of her own family and home in Kinnara Nagara. But then she now had a new family and home, and as long as she felt loved, appreciated and protected, she did not let her thoughts bother her too much. Sometimes, she would get her husband to go with her to lake Anu Dasha for a swim and a picnic. It was no substitute for actually meeting her own sisters in the flesh, but at least it went a little way to soothing her feelings of longing for them.

Occasionally, on their way home, they would stop by the cave of the sage monk, whom they had befriended, and spend the night there. The monk would cook them a simple meal. The three would have dinner together, and after that the monk would regale Manohra and Sudhana Kumara with his stories.

 

At first, Princess Manohra held a bitter grudge against the hunter Halaka. She hated him for having caught her in his hunter's net at Lake Anu Dasha and brought her to his prince. It was an act of utter disrespect, she reflected. In the end, however, she accepted it as her fate, all part of the scheme of things set up for her by the Great Ordainor. For it was what the hunter did that had indeed made her come to meet the man who would later be her husband and the love of her life. So, at long last, she forgave Halaka.

Of King Maha Dhana's many citizens, one man silently resented everything that had happened. It was the Royal Counsellor. He had for long been scheming to get his own daughter married off to the prince, with the hope that she would one day be made queen, and things had seemed to be well going his way. Until the unexpected appearance of Princess Manohra at the palace had put paid to all his dreams.

When Prince Sudhana Kumara one day left for the border regions to do battle against an invading enemy army, the Royal Counsellor, consumed by hatred and jealousy, quickly got back to his scheming ways, conducting his wicked machinations to revive his old ambitions. He started spreading a rumour to the queen that Princess Manohra carried a curse that would bring harm to the palace and the entire kingdom. According to him, because Manohra was not a genuine human female, but a hybrid bird-woman, all the evils of the curse would only be eliminated if she was completely destroyed.

One night, King Maha Dhana had a bad dream. Then he fell severely sick a day later. The Counsellor pounced upon the opportunity presented to him to advance even further his spurious claims. The Counsellor argued to the now anxious king that his dream and illness were both proof of the evil brought by Manohra. The Counsellor then proposed to the king that Princess Manohra be burned alive.

Under the sway of the Counsellor's malicious advice, the king considered that, irregardless of his personal feelings for his daughter in law, his obligations to his family and kingdom were greater, especially now that his son was away doing battle against the kingdom's enemies, and that he should take whatever measures necessary to protect both from harm. Thus, albeit with a heavy heart, Maha Dhana decided to abide by the Counsellor's suggestion.

"No need to fret or feel guilty, Your Majesty," so the Royal Counsellor comforted the king. "We're not killing a proper woman here. Manohra is only a mere bird. A bad bird at that too, one that has cast an evil spell on your son, and will bring even more evil to your palace. What we're doing is all for your family's sake and that of your kingdom." 

"That man was bad," Pinang interjected. "He was pure evil."

Queen Chandra Devi, on the other hand, who was extremely fond of Manohra, pleaded with her husband to reconsider his decision and to find another way to resolve the matter. But the king would not budge for fear of being seen as weak or indecisive. Wracked with guilt and confusion, however, he locked himself away in a room and forbade anyone from disturbing him.

The queen went to see Manohra with the intention of consoling her. But she ended up breaking down in tears, while the Kinnari princess remained strong and stoic, and was the one who had to soothe her.

"No, I shall not beg for mercy, Mother," Manohra insisted. "That is not the way of the Kinnara. Besides, I have not done anything wrong."

"Which makes this all the more unfair to you then, Manohra," the queen lamented. "If only there is something I could do."

"It is now all up to the Great Ordainor, Mother. If this is to be my destiny, then this will be my destiny. But if my time is not yet up, nothing and noone can make it otherwise. Tomorrow, this is what I shall do, and I shall need your help to make it work."

Manohra leaned to whisper to the queen something she had been contemplating for some time while in confinement.

"I shall do everything I can for you, Manohra," the queen promised. "You can count on it."