Gandikota

The Hanging

The bright glare of the sun's rays hit straight into his eyes, as he struggled to capture the sights around him. His bare soles, burnt from the hot rocky pathway, on which he was being led to his execution. He felt the pointed tips of the lances prodding sharp into his rips. His lips were dry from thirst, as he staggered along weakly.  But nothing hurt more, than what he was hearing around.

The cries from the mob around "Traitor, Traitor", "Hang the Traitor".

Stones flew from the mob, some hitting him on the temple, as he bled.  The pain from that however was nothing compared to the cries of the mob around him.

He, Pemmasani Ramalinga Nayaka, who had strode into Gandikota,many a time, in victory,  was now being dragged across the very streets.  The very same people who hailed him as a hero, were now cursing him as a traitor.  The flowers that rained on him, when he returned in victory, had now turned into stones, hurting every part of him.  He had been thrown into prison, tortured, starved, beaten. But above all he had been humiliated, and stripped off his dignity. 

As a warrior, he was used to wounds, in fact he would flaunt them with pride. The scars and wounds on his body, would heal in due course of time, but what of the pain of being called a traitor. He had undergone every humiliation and torture in the prison, in the hope that his people were behind him. He had kept himself alive all these days in prison to find out the truth.

But for what purpose, when those whom he fought for, now condemn him as a traitor, and pelt stones on him?  What does it matter, if such ungrateful, fickle people, exist or not? Why should he even bother about such people,who blindly believe anything without even knowing the truth?

For the first time in his life nothing held any meaning for Ramalinga, as the cries of "Traitor, Traitor" grew louder, and more stones were pelted on him.  He had lost the will to live, he really found no purpose at all.

The gallows beckoned him, as the hangman, with his massive frame, and thick moustache, looked at him menacingly.  On one side was Bukappa, grinning with a viciously sadistic look on his face.  And his brother Timma, the one who had betrayed him. 

"It is all over Anna, hope you fare well on your final journey"

Ramalinga just glared back, with such malevolent fury, making Timma cower, those eyes, they were just piercing through him. 

"Every condemned prisoner has something to say before being hanged,  Ramalinga?"

The sneering tone of Bukkappa's voice, ringing in his ears, Ramalinga gathered himself, in a slow measured tone.

"The land where the blood of an innocent man spills, is destined for destruction" 

As Bukkappa let out a loud racous laugh, motioning with his fat, pudgy fingers.

"Nothing shall shake Hampi or Gandikota, for centuries to come Ramalinga, wish you well on your journey beyond"

Ramalinga offered no resistance as the hangman placed the dark cloth over his face. He could feel the rope tightening around his neck, as the darkness descended on him. But after a long time, he felt a kind of inner peace.

"Virupaksha, I must have sinned grievously in my past births, and bearing the karma for my action now. I had striven to lead a virtous life, as per my Dharma, in my heart and conscience, I know I am innocent.  But you in the heavens yonder know more, if this is your will I submit to it"