Ratnakar the Thuggee

I did a quick inventory of the loot that my Thuggees had brought back to camp with a general sense of satisfaction. Mother Kali would be pleased with the offerings we’d provided. Running my fingers down the ritual scarf on my belt, I considered which prizes I would keep for myself. As jemadar, first choice was always mine. As I pondered my options, a golden torq with inset gems caught my eye. I froze as I studied the neckpiece, inundated with memories. My mother had one just like it.

My family had been traveling by caravan to a new village. I don’t know where we had come from or where we were going. I was very young. Up to that point, my life had been a series of joyful moments, one after another. My mother was beautiful and happy. I remembered the smell of her hair and the softness of her smile with heartbreaking clarity. My father was a bit of a blur, but my mother was clear in my mind. Her, and my sister. I hadn’t thought of my sister in uncounted years, but I could perfectly picture her impish face, and the cheerful sound of her carefree giggles. A group of young men joined our caravan. I only recollect that portion of events vaguely, but I recalled the men discussing the group around the fire at night. They’d seemed trustworthy, so they’d been accepted. The ambush came when we stopped to set up camp for the night about a week after the strangers joined us. The young men attacked in silence, without warning. Using bright red scarves, they strangled everyone in the caravan. They strangled all of them, except for me. They hid the bodies in the forest, and they took me with them.

My life was very different after that fateful night. I became a Thuggee apprentice, learning the arts of murder and robbery in the name of Mother Kali. I embraced the teachings and the life, and I excelled. I reveled in the blood, and took pleasure in the look of betrayal in the eyes of my victims as the light faded from them. I was good at what I did, and I enjoyed it. I took the name Ratnakar, and it wasn’t long before I led a Thuggee band of my own. I thought nothing of the family that I’d lost. Until now.

A scream pulled me from my reverie. The panicked and pain-filled cries of a young girl flooded the camp. A girl that sounded like my sister. I rushed toward the racket, into the clearing in the middle of camp. There, tied to a stake, was a terrified child. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her face. She not only sounded like my sister, she looked like her too. We stared at one another for a very long time, the terrified girl and me. Her tear-filled eyes seemed to see into the deepest parts of my soul. My Thuggees told me that they’d found her, alone, on the outskirts of a nearby village. They were planning to sacrifice her to Mother Kali. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let them hurt that little girl.

I untied the girl and returned her to her village. Walking back, I contemplated my life and what I had become. I realized the monstrousness of my actions and the horrors that I had inflicted upon the innocent. I did it all in the name of the goddess, but I had no real certainty that the goddess wanted the sacrifices we provided. Wanting an answer, I stopped to pray, hoping that the goddess would take pity and answer me. I had almost given up when she did, not with words, but with a certainty in my heart. What the Thuggees do, what I had done for so long, was not the worship that Mother Kali desired. It was, in fact, inimical to her purpose. I bowed my head in shame, tears of misery tracking down my face. I had betrayed my mother, my sister, my father, my goddess, and myself. I had done evil, and I had to atone.

My evil acts had been those of excess: excess greed, excess blood, excess harm. To redeem myself, I had to commit to a life of absolute austerity. After disbanding my Thuggees, and explaining the wrongness of our way of life, I went deep into the woods. I entered into a trance so deep it was like unto death, becoming one with Brahman and the whole of the universe. I do not know how long I was in that trance state. It must have been many years, for when I awoke I was imprisoned in an anthill, a valmik, which had grown up around me. Vines twined through my long hair and beard. Breaking out of my dirt cell, I looked around the deep woods and determined to start a new life. A new life based on enlightenment and goodness.

For a new life, a new name was required. A name that embodied the man I was now, and what had shaped me. I chose Valmiki.