Gandikota

A hero in chains

He felt some one rudely prodding him in the ribs, faintly hearing a loud, gruff voice asking him to wake up. He got up in a groggy mood, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the cell and the rather dank, musty smell all around him.  The silhouettes of the two guards hovered in the light of the torches, as he attempted to lift up his bruised and battered body,  weakly.

Pemmasani Ramalinga Nayaka, commander of the Vijayanagara Empire, who had struck terror in the hearts of the enemies on the battlefield, was now a common prisoner in chains, arrested on charges of murdering Timma Nayudu, the ruler of Gandikota.

The muscular frame of his that had strode across battlefields, and had taken many a blow, was now shrunken into a mass of flesh and bones. The eyes  whose very look would strike terror into the hearts of his enemies, had sunken deep into the sockets. The once handsome and radiant face, was now a mass of wrinkles and bruises, covered with a thick, scraggly, beard.

He had not known since when he was here, all he had seen was just darkness around, in a small cell, with damp wells. The only light for him was a tiny window, and a flickering torch. His bed, had been the rough floor, his only companions were the cockroaches, scorpions and snakes that had slithered across often. 

His back, bore the scars from the repeated beatings of the spiked clubs, in order to retract the confession from him. He had been branded repeatedly with burning hot iron, his screams often echoing in the dark cavern like reaches of the prison cells. His nails had been pulled out, and he had been whipped repeatedly, the welts across his body, still showing.

A lesser man, would have died from the inhumane torture, inflicted on him to confess, but this was a warrior, who had taken blows during many a battle. Years of fighting on the battle field, had made his body hard enough to endure any hardship. But above all there was one reason, why he endured the indignities inflicted upon him.

The oath of Gandikota, by which it had sworn to be loyal to death to Vijayanagara, and never betray that trust. 

More than him, that oath was in danger, if he had indeed confessed under duress, the retribution would be too frightening.  The Raya detested disloyalty, and if he felt that Gandikota an ally he always trusted, had betrayed him, he would wreck such terrible destruction. Not a single stone would be left, nor a single person be alive.

He had lived for the honor of  Gandikota,and he could not let that be stained. He had fought many a battle in the past, but he would have to fight another battle now. For the honor of Gandikota, for keeping the oath he had given to his father, and he had to be alive for it now. He had to fight for the truth, at stake was not just Gandikota, but the future of Vijayanagara itself. 

"Get up traitor", he felt the guard kicking him in the ribs harder, as he hauled his body using all the strength still left in him. 

The fetters were bound around his feet, the handcuffs snapping around his wrists, as he was led out, along the dark corridors,  the screams of the prisoners being tortured echoing in the chambers.  There was the glorious Hampi, the city of riches, diamonds, palaces, and beneath were the chambers of hell, that only the unfortunate would ever visit. 

As he stepped out, a glare of light hit him, right in the face, as the sun burnt brightly. The bearded visage, bound in handcuffs and fetters, dressed in coarse rags, strained to look at the surroundings. Where he had rode in triumph after many a victory, he was now a prisoner in fetters, condemned as a traitor.