Realm of the Goddess

by Sabina Khan

  “I’ve heard of this before...kalari…?” I said, intrigued since he had mentioned Aruna.

  “It’s an ancient form of Indian martial arts. It is practiced with a regular sword as well as the urumi. You are familiar with the urumi, yes?”

  I nodded, totally sold on the idea.

  “I would love a chance to learn from Aruna,” I said, full of anticipation.

  “I must warn you, Callie, it is very difficult.” Uncle Suresh sat back in his chair, considering me thoughtfully. “Do you think you are up for the challenge?”

  I sat up straight, looking him in the eyes, just so there was no doubt left.

  “I’m ready Uncle Suresh. Bring it on.”

  He stood up, nodding slowly. “Good, then we shall begin tomorrow. I will inform Aruna that she is relieved from her normal duties.”

  We said goodnight and went to our respective bedrooms. After a quick shower, I changed into shorts and a T-shirt. I sat down on the edge of the bed, picking up my cell phone out of habit. I looked at the last text Ben had sent on that fateful night. I wondered where he was. I couldn’t even think of how he was, because horrible images of the two demons flashed through my mind. At least I knew my parents wouldn’t be harmed for the time being, but I could only hope that Ben was still alive. I shook the thought from my mind. I couldn’t dwell on that or I would not be able to focus on the task ahead. I lay down, hoping to get some sleep, but it eluded me for quite a while.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning found me full of resolve. It felt good to be proactive and I was looking forward to spending more time with Aruna. After a hurried breakfast, I went to find her in the back of the house. As I walked out the French doors of Uncle Suresh’s bungalow, I was greeted by a fragrance that took me back to my grandmother’s blooming garden. There were madhumanjari creepers, their tiny trumpet-shaped flowers in varying shades of pink and red. Then there was my favourite, the champa, its cream-colored flowers spreading their sweet scent. I took a deep breath and walked over to where Aruna was practicing in solitude. She had hitched the lower part of her sari up and tucked it into her waistband, a common practice for Indian women when they needed to allow their legs free movement. Practicing martial arts while maintaining the elegant drape of a sari could be hazardous.

  Unaware that I was watching, Aruna moved with the grace of a classically trained dancer, her sword cutting the air effortlessly in a smooth motion. Her intricate steps belied the danger that I knew her opponent would face. Her arms swung the sword overhead like a feather while her legs moved to the rhythm of an unheard melody. Wanting to get a closer look, I stepped forward. The crunch of a twig underneath my feet alerted her to my presence and her head shot up. She looked startled, almost as if she’d been lost in a world of her own. Then her face lit up with a smile of recognition as she realized it was me, and her demeanor underwent a subtle shift, from fearless warrior to submissive girl. It bothered me, although I wasn’t sure why. I had spent the first few years of my life surrounded by domestic help; it was the norm here. So was the blatant division of social classes. I decided that because I’d been away for so long, the reality of it jarred my senses.

  I walked quickly to where she was waiting in the center of the garden. On my way I passed a koi pond filled with large lotus flowers with fish darting about underneath them. Tall betel nut trees stood like sentries all around while palm trees competed for airspace. In a far corner mango and tamarind trees formed a cluster, creating some nice shade from the powerful sun that was already evident even this early in the day.

  Aruna held out a long stick, gesturing for me to take it. It looked like a baton, and any delusions I had of doing the graceful warrior dance today were shattered in minutes. I spent the next couple of hours learning how to twirl the baton over my head, under my legs and around my body. Even that was a challenge since I dropped the stick every few minutes. By the end of the two hours I had managed to master it to some small degree, but I needed a break. My arms ached from the unfamiliar strain, my muscles protesting the rigor. For someone so petite, Aruna really resembled a drill sergeant when it came to training. Luckily, just then Shiv came out with some fresh lemonade, which I gulped down in an instant. After that small break we went at it again and I realized that Shiv had used the lemonade as an excuse to watch me. When I heard him chuckle for the fourth or fifth time, I shot daggers at him with my eyes. Of course, he just deflected them with a lazy smile as he leaned nonchalantly against a coconut palm tree. I tried to ignore him, which was an exercise in futility. Shiv was not somebody to be ignored. I looked at him out of the corners of my eyes while trying not to lose my grip on the stick. He was tall, dark and handsome, which I realized was a terrible cliché, but there no denying it was true. Under different circumstances I might have been more inclined to dwell on the fact that there was obviously some chemistry between us, but there was no time for distractions. I just forced my mind back to the stick I was twirling.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, Aruna said we were done for the day. But she wanted to teach me some of the history and theory behind kalaripayattu. I was fine with that as long as it didn’t involve anything more physical than listening. I could barely feel my fingers at this point and I didn’t think I could even lift one to turn a page. We went in and washed up before lunch, which consisted of a simple pasta salad. Or it was simple by Kolkata standards. It actually contained several kinds of delicious fresh vegetables and a spicy sauce. Food always put me in a good mood, so I had regained the bounce in my step as I made my way to Aruna’s room in the servants’ quarters, which were in the back of the house. As I entered, my eyes had to adjust to the dark interior. Even though it was late afternoon, it was still bright and sunny outside. Aruna was sitting on one of the traditional woven cane and bamboo stools that could be found in every household. There were three more arranged in a circle. She looked up when she heard me come in.

  “Are you ready to learn some more?” she said with a smile.

  “Sure. As long as there’s no stick involved,” I replied, grinning.

  For the next hour she taught me about the various moves and stances that were used most frequently in kalaripayattu. Even though I knew this was important, I found my mind wandering as she spoke. I waited for her to pause before I jumped in.

  “Aruna, can we take a little break?”

  “Of course. Would you like some fresh coconut water?” she asked, standing up and moving toward the kitchen area, where a small refrigerator hummed in the corner. I got up, following her in case she needed help. As I watched, she took two fresh green coconuts off a shelf and put them on the little table in the middle of the kitchen. Then she picked up a curved knife and proceeded to cut the tops off the coconuts. She put a straw in each one and handed one to me. Next she took two plates off a shelf and went to the fridge. From it she removed a box of Indian sweets. She placed an assortment on the plates and gestured for me to walk back over to the stools. As we sat and sipped our coconut water, she began to open up about herself.

  “Callie, have you heard about the Priestesses of Kali?” she asked as she picked up one of the little sweets and popped it in her mouth.

  “I heard Shiv’s parents mention them back in Seattle,” I replied. “They said many people believe they didn’t really exist.”

  “Actually, they did,” Aruna said. “They were chosen by Kali herself to bring her sword to a safe place and guard it. My grandmother and her mother before her...they were all descended from one of the Priestesses. The knowledge is supposed to be passed down from generation to generation.”

  I took a moment to lift my jaw from the floor.

  “So you’re telling me that you are actually a Priestess of Kali yourself?” My voice had risen considerably from disbelief, and there were not enough emojis in the world to adequately describe my level of excitement at this little tidbit. Aruna seemed alarmed at my reaction, because she jumped up and went to the door to check if it was close
d all the way. She came back and sat down once more.

  “Callie, no one here can know,” she said in a low voice.

  “Why not? They are Rakshakari, wouldn’t they be thrilled?” I couldn’t imagine why she would want to keep it a secret, but whatever it was, I wanted to know.

  “It’s not that simple...if they knew...” She didn’t finish her sentence; she seemed to get lost in her thoughts.

  I couldn’t stop myself from probing further. This was too important. If she knew something that could help me find my parents and the sword, I had to know.

  “What do you think would happen if they found out?” I asked gently, not wanting to pressure her too much.

  “There are a lot of things you don’t understand yet, Callie. It’s hard to know who to trust.”

  “Well, you can trust me.” Even as I said it, I had to wonder why she put her faith in someone she’d just met. I knew I wouldn’t. The fact that I was even here went against every instinct, but the catalyst had been my parents’ disappearance. But for Aruna my presence didn’t really change anything, so I understood her reluctance to confide in me. I decided to try another angle.

  “Aruna, you must know about my parents...that they’ve been taken. I will do anything to find them.” I took both her hands. “If there is anything...anything at all you can tell me, I will be in your debt for the rest of my life.”

  Aruna raised her head to look into my eyes. I hoped she would see my desperation and take pity on me.

  “Callie...the priestesses...they’ve been ostracized for centuries. It’s not the way it used to be.” She was silent for a while, and again, not wanting to push her, I waited patiently. Finally she went on.

  “There was a time when they were revered...but things changed. They became powerful and had many devoted followers.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I’m not sure exactly, but I think that society changed and a group of women having so much influence wasn’t a good thing for the rulers at the time.”

  “You think the rulers felt threatened?” I could see that happening, especially hundreds of years ago.

  “My grandmother and mother told me some stories about it. The priestesses would step in whenever women were being abused or treated unjustly. Because they had so much influence, they were able to bring many of the perpetrators to justice. Sometimes that included the sons and brothers of prominent people.”

  It made sense. Not much had changed from the time Aruna was talking about. I still heard on the news that women and young girls were being raped and assaulted while their attackers got away scot-free because of their connection with influential politicians. It must have been even worse long ago.

  “So what happened to the Priestesses?” I asked.

  “It started slowly at first...a few were assaulted as they walked home alone from the river, then someone’s hut would catch fire and they would be burned alive.”

  “But if they had supporters…?”

  “They did, but then the village elders would start with allegations of theft, or children would mysteriously disappear. They would accuse them of practicing dark magic. Slowly, their supporters dwindled and so did the number of Priestesses.” Aruna looked down at her hands. Once again she seemed lost in thought. When she looked up, there was something in her eyes that spoke of a deep hurt.

  “You know, Callie, I’ve never told anyone this, but my mother...she was raped when she was sixteen. She worked for a wealthy family and their son was about her age. They knew she came from a line of priestesses and the son would mock her for it, saying she was cursed and that no one would ever want her. He would come into her room at night, knowing she would never tell anyone. She didn’t because she knew they would never believe her, but when she got pregnant with me she tried to tell the boy’s mother. She laughed, saying that my mother was nothing but a lying whore who wanted to get her hands on their rich son. They threw her out in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on her back.” The tears that had pooled in Aruna’s eyes now rolled down her cheeks, and my heart broke for her. I put my arms around her, pulling her head onto my shoulders. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror of knowing that your existence was based on such an act of violence.

  “She went back to my grandmother. For a few years it seemed that my mother was fine, but then one day she was taking me to the market and saw my father driving by.”

  Aruna’s mouth turned down in disgust at the corners as she spoke. “Later that night my grandmother found her hanging from the ceiling fan in her room. We never spoke about her after that.”

  Now it was my turn to cry. It all just seemed so unfair and cruel. We held each other for a little bit and then Aruna pulled away and wiped her eyes with a tissue. I grabbed the one she offered me and dried my own tears.

  “What a fine pair of warriors we make, no?” She smiled wanly, shaking her head.

  I didn’t know what to say. I was still in shock after hearing the horror that Aruna’s mother had gone through and what she herself must have had to endure. No wonder she didn’t want anyone knowing about her lineage. To her it was a reminder of everything she had lost.

  Taking a deep breath, I stood up and held out my hand to help her up as well.

  “I think we’ve had enough training for one day,” she said, her voice still slightly tremulous.

  “I couldn’t agree more. Is there any chance that we could go and watch a movie?” I hadn’t watched a Bollywood movie in ages, and it was just the thing to get our minds off all the heavy stuff for a little while.

  Aruna’s face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. “There’s a new one out that I’ve been wanting to watch. We can get panipooris too.”

  Paanipoori. Another one of my favorite street foods. I could just taste the sweet and tangy water as the thin, crunchy balls of fried dough exploded in my mouth. There was nothing that compared.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning I woke up to agony. As expected, my muscles were sore and my hands had several blisters. I felt good, though, because of last night. It had been a good idea to go out and do something fun. There had been a pang of guilt, though, when I thought that I should be using the time on more productive pursuits, but in the end I realized I desperately needed some down time. I also felt genuinely bad for Aruna and blamed myself for forcing her to dredge up bad memories. On the other hand, I was convinced she possessed some vital information. I didn’t know why I was so sure of that, but I was.

  I got dressed and ready for another day of training. After a light breakfast of toast and tea I met up with Aruna in the vast garden. The fragrant jasmine and tuberoses filled me with calm and positivity. Aruna was waiting for me as I passed the koi pond on my way to the open space where we had practiced the previous day. She looked a lot better than she had when I’d left her after we got back from the movies. There were some dark shadows under her eyes, but she smiled when she saw me coming and it lit up her face. We spent the next few hours practicing with the urumi and I had to admit I began to feel more and more confident and less like a klutz. We broke for lunch and a little rest but got right back to it until late afternoon. My muscles protested as I sat down on the edge of the koi pond and Aruna joined me. It was cooler now that the sun was setting, and the koi swam lazily around between the lotus pads.

  “I have something to give you, Callie,” Aruna said shyly, reaching into her jute bag to pull out something wrapped in cloth. She handed it to me and I removed the soft cover. It was a dagger, the blade of bronze as far as I could tell from its color. The handle was beautifully adorned with a pattern of red, blue and green gems. I didn’t know if they were precious stones, but it didn’t matter. It felt heavy and ancient, but I didn’t know why Aruna was giving it to me.

  “My grandmother gave this to me before she died,” she said, getting that faraway look in her eyes again.

  “Did it belong to your family?” I asked.

  She nodded. “It’s b
een handed down to the women in my family for generations. Along with this.” She handed me a piece of paper, folded carefully in four. I took it from her. It was old brown parchment and the creases where it had been folded were so deep I was afraid it would tear if I wasn’t extremely careful. I unfolded it as delicately as I could. It was a map. A really old map, judging by the fact that the Indian subcontinent was divided into a multitude of kingdoms. The names were in Sanskrit, so I turned to Aruna.

  “What does it say? Is that Kishkinda?” I asked, referring to the kingdoms that were part of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, India’s ancient texts.

  Aruna nodded. “My grandmother told me this map is of the utmost importance to the Priestesses of Kali, that I must guard it with my life.” A cynical smile played across her lips. “Everything I’ve experienced in my life had made me doubt the truth about the Priestesses. But now, seeing you here, I believe that I must give this to you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My heart raced and my hands trembled, whether from excitement or because I was touched by her actions, I did not know.

  “Aruna...you have no idea what this means to me. Does this really show the location of the sword?” I couldn’t really make sense of the map, but I did look to see whether North Sentinel Island was visible. There it was, not a tiny speck in the Indian Ocean like on the other maps, but much larger and clearly visible. But if I’d expected some quick fix, an X that marked the spot, I was disappointed. A part of me had hoped it would be that easy, but of course it wasn’t. I was grateful that I at least had a map, and that Aruna had seen fit to pass it on to me, even though she knew that it was of precious value to her ancestors.

  “I’m not sure whether the sword is actually there, Callie,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “My grandmother never talked about it with me. She just told me it was very important and that I would know what to do when the time came.”