She glanced up at him, one breast still uncovered, the end of the sari in her hand. ‘Surely you recall the rest, my lord?’
He tugged the end of the dhoti, tightening it harder than usual against his taut abdomen, answering her with frosty silence.
With a sly smile, she went on. ‘After that, you did what any husband does to his wife.’
He froze in the act of draping his ang-vastra, the dressing forgotten, everything else forgotten. Suddenly it all made sense, the strange, pleasurable ache in his groin when he had awoken, the absence of clothing, even the dream … But how could it be? He remembered his decrepit state when he had been carried into the kosaghar. He was on the verge of total collapse. No, this couldn’t be possible. This was some deception of her devising.
‘You’re wrong,’ he said harshly. ‘I was in no condition to lie with you when I came in here. I could barely stand on my own feet.’
She continued smiling with the supreme composure of one who knows she is beyond all reproach. ‘When you came in here, you were ill disposed, it’s true. But after the elixir, once the tonic took effect, you were as amorous as Indra-deva himself, my lord!’
‘What madness or magic is this? How could I have recovered simply after having your vile tonic? I know you well, Kaikeyi. What are you not telling me? What are you trying to conceal?’
‘Conceal?’ She spread her arms, allowing the top of the sari to fall once more. ‘I have nothing to conceal, my lord.’
He slammed a fist against the nearest pillar. ‘Impossible! If what you say is true, then why can I not recall any detail of these events you speak of? Why is my mind a complete blank since the time of my entering the kosaghar?’
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps your hunger is clouding your mind, my liege?’
‘Hunger?’ He started to roar at her, then stopped. Now that she mentioned it, he did feel a keen appetite. It had been months since he had felt so great a need for victual nourishment. An overpowering hunger throbbed in his belly.
She smiled as if understanding exactly what he was experiencing. ‘The tonic leaves one feeling inordinately hungry and thirsty. If you will sit calmly and partake of some nourishment, it will do you good. After all, now that you have regained your strength, your appetite will have returned with it as well.’
He flung the end of the ang-vastra over one shoulder, angrily. ‘Stop speaking of food, woman. I wish to know why it is that I cannot recall any of our discussion. Did we really speak of anything, or did I just fall asleep after entering this chamber? Answer me truly, Kaikeyi. I am in no mood for games. Tell me, why did you summon me here? Why did Manthara say you had taken your vrath-vows and were fasting unto death? Nobody who takes their vrath-vows partakes of health tonics and cavorts with their husband amorously!’
She turned, looking over her shoulder as she adjusted the final fold of her sari, tucking the end into her waistband. Her hair falling across her face, caught in the dusky light of the concealed diyas, added to an effect that he found powerfully arousing, despite his anger and confusion. Why are all my lusts and needs so powerfully aroused? Could her stupid tonic truly have revived me this much?
‘I did indeed undertake a vrath-vow, my lord,’ she replied. ‘A vow to fast unto death if my wish was not granted. And once that wish was granted, quite naturally I ended the vow. You and I partook of the elixir together. And after that we cavorted amorously, as you so mischievously put it, my lord.’
He shook his head, trying to clear it of its foggy obscurity. ‘I don’t understand yet. What was this wish you had that was worth dying for? Which deva was it addressed to?’
‘To the only mortal deva I worship,’ she said, coming forward and unexpectedly prostrating herself before him, touching his feet. ‘You, my beloved husband.’
He stepped back hurriedly. ‘What tomfoolery is this, Kaikeyi? I am asking a serious question. What is this talk you keep referring to? What wish? What did we discuss here tonight?’
She looked up at him from her supplicant position. ‘You still do not recall, my lord?’
He all but snarled at her. ‘If I did, why would I ask, foolish woman!’
She rose to her feet elegantly. She has regained her former slimness and grace. How is this possible? What sorcery is at work here? No elixir can accomplish such wondrous results!
‘I am certain it will all come back to you.’ She gestured oddly, fingers performing some arcane action not unlike the mudras of a classical temple dancer performing a dance of divine adoration. ‘In fact, I would not be surprised to know that you are starting to remember everything even as we speak now.’
He staggered back, raising a hand to his head. The hand stank of mustard oil; it was the same one with which he had carelessly picked up the burning diya. He felt as if he had received a blow to the head—but on the inside! His shoulder struck a pillar and he leaned against it, bending over. ‘Deva!’
‘My lord?’ Her voice sounded anxious, concerned now. ‘Are you well?
He straightened up with an effort, staring at her. As suddenly as it had struck, the pressure was gone, leaving only a sense of great foreboding and regret. ‘What sorcery is this? What have you done to me, Kaikeyi?’ He looked down at himself. Suddenly, he realised fully what he had only been dimly aware of since awakening. ‘My body? My strength?’
‘Is returned to you. Yes, my lord. This, you see, is the magic of the elixir. Wonderful, is it not? To have the health and virility of a man ten years younger once more?’ She feigned a coy blush.
‘Enough!’ He pounded the pillar with his fist. ‘This is impossible! My vaids and even Guru Vashishta have tried for years to reverse or slow my canker. No elixir can achieve what they could not achieve, in just a few hours!’
She shrugged. ‘If you will take another draught, you might find that much more can be accomplished. I for one certainly intend to partake of another serving. Shall I fetch you a goblet as well?’
‘Silence,’ he said. ‘I am—’ He was remembering it all now. Not just the drinking of the elixir, in the belief that it was truly some herbal concoction, but also the sudden surge of power and virility that had swept him like a torrent.
And then it came to him, with the striking immediacy of a vajra bolt flung by Indra himself, lord of thunder and storm.
The talk they had had before the drinking of the elixir, before the lovemaking. The way Kaikeyi had lain on the floor of the kosaghar when he had entered, distraught and dishevelled, face puffed with tears. His bending to console her, ask her what ailed her mind. The long, tortuous talk that followed, at the time seeming so like a nightmare that he had wanted only to forget it for ever. It was to drive the memory of that talk from his consciousness that he had consented to drink the elixir, had in fact quaffed it like water without so much as tasting it. And it was that same talk that flooded his consciousness now, roaring through his mind like the Sarayu in spate during spring thaw, great chunks of glacial ice crashing and shattering down its turbulent course.
‘Kaikeyi,’ he said, dropping to his knees in disbelief and shock. ‘Kaikeyi, I beg you, tell me it is not true. I did not promise you … It was but a dream, was it not? We did not have any such discussion. You did not press me to—to—’ He sobbed, unable to say it. ‘Tell me it isn’t true!’
‘What isn’t true, my lord?’ She had draped the sari around herself, covering her nakedness. Now she looked at him as calmly as if he had just made a comment upon the coolness of the night air, or some such irrelevance. ‘What are you trying to deny?
‘What we talked of, before I drank the elixir,’ he cried. ‘The boons you reminded me of. The promises I made to you years ago, the vows I swore to you in exchange for saving my life on those two occasions. You asked me to recollect those vows. When I did so, you told me you wished to collect the boons I had promised to give you unconditionally. You demanded your right to claim anything you pleased, upon my honour. I could not refuse you. I said yes, of course, I made you those vows and you m
ay collect upon them if you please. Whatever you wished, I would grant to you unconditionally. And then you said—’ He lowered his head, unable to stop the tears, the tearing anguish that threatened to rip out his heart and slash it to shreds. ‘You said—’
She looked at him with an expression of utter serenity, like a palace cat that had partaken its fill of milk and cream and fish. ‘I said that I wished for Rama to go into exile for twice times seven years. And for my second boon, I wished to have my son Bharat crowned prince-heir on the morrow.’ She whispered the next words, though they seemed to echo resoundingly in the vast, empty pillared chamber. ‘And you said you could not refuse me anything I desired. And so the pact was struck.’
TWENTY
‘Rani? Pardon my disturbing your rest.’
Kausalya came awake with the swiftness of one accustomed to caring for the sick and ailing, used to waking at all hours to tend to her husband’s medical needs these past several nights. The lamps in the chamber had burned down. The serving girls had probably neglected to refill them, believing that she was asleep for the night. But she had only been dozing here upon this diwan, unable to sleep properly, restless in the knowledge that Dasaratha was taking an inordinately long time in the kosaghar.
She sat up and looked around. The old daiimaa who had woken her had a kindly face. She was one of several who had cared lovingly for Rama and his brothers during their tender formative years. Kausalya nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Susama-daiimaa. What is it? Has the maharaja sent for me?’
‘No, my lady. Forgive me for interrupting your nidra. But the matter seemed to warrant some attention. I would have come earlier, but you were engaged in conversation with the maharaja, and then, after he left, you and the pradhan-mantri were in discussion until very late. So I thought it best to return in the morning. Only,’ she paused, her voice trembling to match the shiver in her wrinkled arm, ‘it would not wait. So we decided to send for you at once.’
‘We?’ Kausalya sat up and looked around. There was nobody else in the chamber.
‘Vandana-daiimaa and Karuna-daiimaa are in the outer chamber, with her. If you will but accompany me, I will take you to them. We have a strange thing to show you, my rani. I trust it will not disturb your dreams tonight, for it will surely trouble us for many nights to come.’
Kausalya frowned. ‘What are you talking about, Susama? What thing?’
The daiimaa looked at her strangely. ‘It is best if I show you. Please, if you will come this way … ‘
Kausalya rose and followed her. She paused as she left the chamber, shocked to see the time in the large water-clock in the anteroom. Whatever was keeping Dasaratha so long? Had he fallen asleep in the kosaghar? Yes, perhaps he had. She felt a touch of unease, like the tip of a cold blade pricking the back of her neck. Then she dismissed it as idle anxiety. He must have grown weary after cajoling and coaxing Kaikeyi out of her latest tantrum, and then had no energy to make the long journey through the palace complex back to his chambers, so he had fallen asleep right there in the kosaghar, stretched out upon a mat on the floor, for the kosaghar had no furnishings. She hoped Kaikeyi had kept him warm.
The palace corridor was empty and still, in eerie contrast to the hustle and bustle of just a few hours past. Only the ever-vigilant palace guards stood at three-yard intervals, alert and silent as ever. The serving maids were all asleep, but several had remained within calling reach, in case she or the maharaja required anything during the night. She let them sleep. They would need to be rested. Tomorrow would be a long, busy day, with the coronation, and the rest of the traditional post-consummation marriage rituals. She glanced out at the dark starlit sky and wondered if Rama and Sita were still awake, looking out at that same sky, or blissfully asleep. She hoped it was the latter; they would need their rest too. Thinking of them gave her a warm, comfortable feeling, like sinking into a rock-heated bed on a snow-bound winter’s night, with a blizzard raging outside. She vowed to make some time to spend alone with Sita. She had so much she wished to share with her new bahu. So much to say, and so much to know. The culmination of generations of female wisdom to be handed over to the woman who would some day bear Kausalya’s grandchildren. She smiled at the thought, at the thought of herself as a grandmother. Yes. It would be nice. To have little Ramas and Sitas running around this palace, filling the air with their milky cries and little pattering footfalls.
The daiimaa led her into a receiving chamber, one of several that were intended for visitors to wait in until the maharaja was ready to see them. At one time there had been visitors sitting here all night, and Dasaratha would even receive some of them at ridiculous hours and spend his rest-time hearing matters of state or regional interest. But that was a different Dasaratha, at a very different time. A younger, more idealistic Dasaratha, with enough energy to put into running the kingdom the way he believed it must be run: not as a fiefdom inherited from his illustrious forebears, but as a great tradition entrusted to him for safekeeping and continuance.
Two other daiimaas stood by a diwan, below a life-size portrait of Aja, father of Dasaratha, and Kausalya’s own fatherin-law, although she had never known him too well. Aja had decided to take vanaprasthashrama, forest retirement, and had unexpectedly handed over the reins of kingship to a very young Dasaratha almost immediately after his marriage to Kausalya. All she recalled of her father- and mother-in-law was that last glimpse of them, clad in spiritual white symbolising their departure from worldly affairs, as they were carried by the chariot out of the city. They had passed away peacefully in the forest a short while later, not even living long enough to see their grandsons. Whenever Kausalya saw his portrait, it always evoked a silent prayer from her that she at least would be here to see and hold her grandchildren in her arms. She took it as a propitious sign.
There was a woman seated beneath the portrait. Kausalya blinked in surprise as she took in the woman’s dishevelled state, her torn and muddy sari, the bruises on her arms, a recently bandaged cut on her forehead. She was leaning back against a stack of bolsters the daiimaas had propped up to support her. She seemed to be unconscious. Kausalya could smell dung on her, stale, dried and encrusted elephant dung. The woman’s mouth lay partly open, and she snored lightly, like a person who had consumed far too much soma.
‘This woman,’ Kausalya said. ‘I know her. Who is she?’
The three daiimaas exchanged a look. Kausalya caught the tenseness in their manner and the fearfulness in their eyes. They’re scared witless. Susama-daiimaa spoke for them.
‘She is a serving girl, my rani. She works in the Second Queen’s palace. But mostly she serves … ‘ The daiimaa looked around at her companions for support.
‘Whom does she serve, Susama? Speak freely, you need not have any anxiety when addressing me.’
The old woman nodded gratefully. ‘She serves Mantharadaiimaa.’
Kausalya frowned. ‘Manthara. Then … ‘ She stopped, unable to complete the thought aloud. Then she might be the one Sumitra spoke of, the serving girl she saw in the hidden chamber where Sumitra too was kept prisoner that day. Then again, she thought, Manthara might have a dozen serving girls running errands. I must learn more before I say something that I cannot withdraw from gracefully. The memory of the humiliating scene at the welcoming ceremony was still fresh in her mind. Poor Sumitra had retired to her chambers and hadn’t been seen since. Should I have Sumitra roused? No, not just yet. Let me find out a few more things first.
Aloud she said, ‘Why is she in this state?’
Susama replied haltingly, ‘Rani, we were watching the royal procession approach the palace when we happened to see her, running out of the palace gates like a madwoman.’
One of the other daiimaas piped up in a thick southern accent. ‘She all but came beneath the bigfoot, she did. Running wild.’
Susama went on, ‘She fell in the mud and must have got the cut on her forehead when she fell. We were called by the palace guards to go fetch her and take her into
the palace. So we did, all three of us, and it was all we could manage to drag her away from the maharaja’s elephant.’
‘No,’ said the third daiimaa, silent until now. ‘It was Prince Rama’s elephant she was after, I tell you again. Prince Rama.’
Susama nodded. ‘Or perhaps it was the rajkumars’, I don’t know for sure. I was too shocked at the time. You see, milady, at the time we went out into the avenue to fetch her, we all three of us,’ indicating her companions, ‘never thought she was a serving girl at all. We thought for certain she was—’
‘Rani Kaikeyi, Second Queen of Ayodhya,’ Kausalya said quietly.
The southern-accented daiimaa reared back in surprise. All three of them stared up at the First Queen with identical expressions of shock. Susama-daiimaa touched her hand at once to the amulet hanging around the withered folds of her neck.
‘Isn’t that who you thought she was at first?’ Kausalya asked gently. ‘Rani Kaikeyi running wild in the streets, probably distraught over some perceived slight, or simply drunk and out of her senses? It wouldn’t be the first time, after all, would it?’
‘Indeed, no, my queen,’ replied Susama, her breath coming faster and heavier now. The daiimaa still had her hand on the amulet, clutching it tightly. ‘We have often tended to her at such times. Rani Kaikeyi is … how shall we say it … ‘
‘High-strung,’ said one of the others.
‘Aye,’ Susama agreed. ‘And the way she was calling out, the things she was saying, her very voice too … it was all exactly Rani Kaikeyi to the core. So we naturally took her to her own palace, calling to her serving girls, all of whom had abandoned their posts to see the parade.’
‘They will do that at such historic times,’ the south-accented one said apologetically. ‘It’s not to be condoned, of course, but it’s not worth punishing harshly either, my rani.’
Susama continued. ‘But after we brought her into the palace and sat her down on a diwan, only then did we see her … ‘ glancing at the others with that same fearful look, ‘change somehow. As if some invisible hand were re-drawing her features to make them less like Kaikeyi and more like … ‘ gesturing at the woman asleep on the diwan, ‘like the serving maid she truly is. It happened very quickly, in a trice, but we all saw it, and we all knew that something sorcerous had occurred. The only thing was, we didn’t know what exactly had happened.’
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