I couldn’t speak, so she carried on, still in that quiet, sharp voice. ‘I’m going to invite people for Chiro’s birth star feast. By the time I return, you should be gone. Take some food in a bundle if you wish, although do you know what I would do if I were you?’ She moved so she was only inches away from my face, her blazing eyes boring into mine. ‘I would drown myself in the river in the hope that my next life would be more blessed.’
With that, she turned and walked out of the door, leaving me huddled on the floor. I couldn’t wallow for very long though; my mother – was she still my mother? – would come back soon enough, and the fire in her eyes and the steel in her voice was enough to convince me that she meant every word. Besides, a small part of me, beyond the hurt and anger and fear, was also feeling slightly relieved. I didn’t want to live with her any more than she wanted to live with me, and now my leaving would be her fault and not mine.
I quickly threw a few things into one of my saris and fashioned it into a bundle. Briefly, I considered actually drowning myself and then dismissed it. I was unhappy but I was also optimistic. I would go to my real family, I decided, King Vasu and all the rest of it. I’d find my twin brother and I’d live happily as a princess. Later, we’d have my mother put to death, or in prison for cruelty, and bring my father and brother to live with us. I might have even hummed to myself as I carefully folded up some dried fish, seasoned the way I liked it, the way only my mother knew how to prepare. I would miss that fish when it ran out but at least I could still eat it, since Joshi’s cure had done nothing for me.
My plan, as I strode down to the riverbank, was to get in that old boat I had hidden away, cast off and make my way to the Chedi kingdom. I had no idea how far it was, but I knew it was somewhere along the riverbank. It might take me many nights to reach but I intended to sleep in my boat and make my meals there as well, so I wouldn’t be wasting any time. My eyes were quite dry by then, my heart filled with queer resolve. I had never before felt so in control of my life. Even the trees seemed to whisper destiny to me as I stood on the sand, considering my options.
Except the voices of the trees changed to the voice of the old woman I had seen so many nights ago. I had all but forgotten about her, and now I suddenly heard her voice play in the breeze. Destiny.
I looked out over the clear water, the moon full and bright in the sky. There, gleaming in the light was the little island I had dropped her off at. Had it been there all this while? The water rippled, the current looking almost like arrows pointing towards the island’s banks.
After all, I thought, I didn’t want my royal father to meet me when I smelled like this. The old woman had promised me a cure, had she not? If I was to arrive in Chedi smelling like a rose, the king would be more inclined to clasp me to his chest and cry at the idea of abandoning me all those years ago to these cruel, peasant-like people.
The boat was still there, looking like some ancient animal, buried as it was up to its prow, the bottom all but fallen out. Would it still work? I tugged at it experimentally, and as before, it glided, breaking free of the creepers smoothly and easily, sliding into the water with a demure splash, tilting slightly back and forth and waiting for me. I put my bundle in, picked up the pole and began to punt the bottom of the river. And like a flat stone, I reached the island in two skips, as though the boat longed to return there as much as I did.
The moonlight lit up a snaking path that wound its way in front of me, strange flowers dipped their cups over my head as though in benediction, and a cool breeze lifted strands of my hair playfully, as though it was stroking my head and saying, ‘Welcome, sister.’ I picked up my bundle, gave one last look at the village I had come from and began to walk deeper into the island.
Now
The king looks different this time. His head is bowed and he holds it in one hand. His jewelled armlet is off, so are his grand clothes. In fact, if he was not sitting at the head of the room, against a silk bolster, I would not have taken him for royalty at all. When he looks up and sees us, I see deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. This is an old man who has been disappointed by life several times before.
‘I thought our royal orders were not to be disturbed,’ he says wearily.
‘Your Highness, this is the girl—’ blurts out one guard, while the other shoots a dark look at him and interrupts smoothly with, ‘We are extremely sorry to burst into your royal presence. But we thought you might be interested in this girl.’
The king’s eyes lazily flit over my figure and then go back to his guards again. ‘Now why would I be interested in this person?’ he says.
‘Because, your majesty, this is the girl, the girl you wanted to see!’ says the excitable guard, spitting a little in his enthusiasm.
I wonder if the king has really forgotten me and then glance down at myself. I am dishevelled, covered with grass stains and mud, my hair is probably standing on end, my eyes puffy with tears. I want to erase this moment, pull myself backwards out of the chamber, backwards through time so I’m sitting in front of the family hut again, rejecting this idea as a bad one.
The king sits up a little and looks more closely at me. ‘It cannot be,’ he breathes. ‘Was I dreaming and are you part of my dream? How do you walk so boldly into my tent when I have been conjuring you up by rivers and over mountains?’
‘Forgive my appearance, Your Highness,’ I say, shaking myself loose from the men’s grip on my arms. ‘I was not expecting to see you today either.’
‘No, I am not one to be fooled by fancy clothes,’ he says, although he clearly was, since he hadn’t recognized me at once. ‘I had just forgotten how … young you are. How pure. But why do you look distressed? Have my guards been giving you a bad time?’
I wonder whether I should mention the men in the woods, I want to tell him, I want him to leap out of his throne outraged on my behalf, I want him to treat me like I am delicate and fragile, even though I normally don’t care for that. But then, there are some men who don’t feel outrage at other men for touching, grabbing, groping, possessing a woman’s body, but turn their anger towards the woman, who they feel should have kept herself safer, stayed locked indoors like a string of precious stones. I don’t know which sort of man the king will be. It strikes me that I know so little about him. Maybe it’s better this way, because then I can pretend and attribute all good things to his character.
‘No trouble,’ I say. ‘My brother was injured not far from here and your men helped me get him to the healer’s tent.’ Try as I might, I cannot keep a quiver out of my voice when I speak of Chiro and the king is by my side at once, offering me a clean handkerchief from his own pocket. I mop my face, the cloth smells of leather and smoke, and look up into his eyes for the first time. They may be wrinkled but they are kind.
‘Ah, little one, love is a game that will injure all the players,’ he says softly. ‘I will say prayers for your brother tonight. I hope he is recovering?’ Then, turning to the guards, he said, ‘You may go but I want one of you to bring me a report on the boy’s health. Stand guard outside the healer’s tent and escort the boy to me when he is well.’
The guards leave without so much as a backward glance at me, and the king smiles widely. His teeth flash white against his very brown skin. I remember what the old wives say about this king – Shantanu – how, as a young man, he had a passion for wine and women, and how the river goddess herself fell in love with him. However, men cannot be with goddesses unless they’re willing to sacrifice greatly, and her condition for staying with him was that he was not to question her, even if she acted strangely. After the goddess left him, because of course she would leave him, the king became pious and noble, never indulging in the things he used to love so much, giving regular alms to the poor, having large prayer meetings every month, becoming, in fact, such a model man and king that the kingdom is now littered with several small Shantanus, his namesakes, their parents hoping their son might too become a man like the king.
He turns away from me as though he is reading my thoughts and offers me a drink, a sweetmeat, a place to sit down. I take the seat and sigh. He’s still standing, his back to me. ‘Little one,’ he says, half to himself, ‘could you be what I have been looking for?’
I want to tell him that I want that, more than anything. It is what I am here for, this man will be my husband. I am born of an apsara and a king, and I deserve nothing less than the finest kingdom. I can’t rule on my own, Chedi will never welcome me, an abandoned daughter, with open arms, so I have to settle for my own sort of battle.
I have been silent for a long time, but the king luckily takes this for modesty. He claps his hands and servants come in with trays of food, things I have never tasted before in my life – spicy meat in flaky pastry, sweets that raise a cloud of powdered sugar when I bite into them, fried snacks in the shapes of birds and castles. I am delighted and it must show on my face, because he gives a solemn sort of chuckle and says, ‘Oh, you are such a child yet!’
‘Your Highness.’ The guard has returned with his report on Chiro. He’s resting, we’re told, and cannot be moved. The best thing would be for us to stay on at the camp; word will be sent to our parents.
‘But is he going to live?’ I ask, forgetting that I cannot speak till the king gives me leave to. He doesn’t seem to mind though. The guard harrumphs and perhaps takes pity on me, because he says quite gently that the healer hopes that Chiro will make a full and complete recovery. I am so relieved I want to cry and sing, all at the same time.
‘Ah, the gods must have been listening to all of our prayers,’ says the king, giving me a little smile. ‘Have the women make up a tent for the lady and help her freshen up,’ he tells the guard. He inclines his head to me. ‘I shall make a call on you later. If there’s anything else you desire, do not hesitate to ask. My servants are at your service.’
I walk out of the tent with the guard following me. ‘He really is going to live, isn’t he?’ I ask him.
‘He’ll live, my lady,’ says the guard. ‘I have a young son myself. It’s miraculous how hardy they are at that age. Still’ – he looks at me with sympathy – ‘it is a shame what those other men did to him and to you. If they had not run away, the king would have had their heads.’
‘I’d rather no one knew about that,’ I say, quickly.
‘Please yourself, my lady, but men talk, especially men who have nothing to do.’ He indicates the noblemen, who are once again watching me walk towards the women’s section of the camp. This time their eyes are harder, more watchful. I am suddenly someone and so I need to be observed.
Then
My new life was not unlike my old one in many ways. I rose in the morning, washed my face, plucked a twig from a nearby miswak tree to run over my teeth with some charcoal and prepared a hot drink for myself and the old lady. Her name was Dvipaa, I called her Dvipaa-ma, and she was far kinder to me than the other woman who had held the title.
I came across Dvipaa after I spent the first night wandering around the island, stumbling through vines and trees that seemed to suddenly appear whenever I turned. Unfamiliar plants blocked my way as I tried to go back the way I came, and soon I was thoroughly lost. I had been hoping to make my way back to the river, perhaps find a sheltered cove where I could rest till daylight, when I intended to find the woman who had brought me here, but it seemed the island had other plans for me. As I moved forward over the path, new turns opened up in front of me, while older ones concealed themselves with grass and undergrowth. It was remarkably quiet, except for the sound of crickets; there were no large animal rustles through the weeds, no chack of night birds, not even any frogs that I could hear. Finally, when I was half-dazed with exhaustion, stumbling over my own feet, the path stopped and there in front of me was a pretty little cave, looking like it had been created for me alone. Perhaps it was. I was yet to learn that this island had many ways of dealing with visitors, or at least, with me, since no one else ever appeared the whole time I lived there. But that first night, I had no idea where I was, or if it was sorcery that was behind all this. The cave had a reed mat all ready for me, a sheltered overhang of ferns I could hide behind for privacy, and through a crack in the roof, enough moonlight filtered in to let me see what I was doing. I lay down on the mat, hoping to stay awake in case anyone should come, but in a few short moments, I was asleep, and didn’t wake up till the sun was high in the sky and an insistent koel called koo-oooh! koo-oooh! from a tree just above my head.
I didn’t realize where I was at first and lay there, looking up at the roof of my cave – for it already felt like ‘mine’ – for a moment. Then it hit me with delicious warmth. Of course! I had escaped my village! I was somewhere where no one cared about the way I smelled and – I sniffed my arm – it seemed like it was already subsiding. I hurriedly braided my hair, straightened out my clothes and stepped outside to gaze at the island.
It was full of trees and birdsong this morning, but the vegetation was nothing like I had ever seen before. A tall tree with leaves like needles stood by a shrub covered in bright red flowers. A creeper of jasmine wound itself round the top of my cave, while in front of it lay flowers shaped like cups attached to tall stalks. Ahead of me, I saw juicy red fruit with shiny skins hanging low as though beckoning to me. I laughed out loud with joy and ran forward to pluck a fruit and bite into it. The flesh yielded easily under my teeth, grainy and sweet, and I walked through the trees, eating it and looking around. Something was niggling at the back of my mind, some observation, although I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then it came to me as I looked at a sunbird dipping its beak into pretty white and yellow flowers that we sometimes used for worship. While my surroundings had a feel of serendipity, as though it was sheer luck, it definitely had been cultivated. I could tell by how orderly the flowers were, how certain fruit trees stood together, how carefully the grass had been tamed so it didn’t reach my knees, as you would expect, but only just my ankles, so that it felt like I was treading on soft sand.
And then, just in my path there lay a shiny jewel. It was bigger than the fruit I had just eaten, glimmering the same sort of red and catching the light so it threw off dancing sunbeams all around it. I ran over to it and grabbed it at once, feeling its peculiar warmth. And just ahead of it, I could see another one. Who was dropping all these precious stones? I forgot everything else as I set about collecting them. Dimly, I had a thought: if I could go home to my village laden with gems, I would be the richest person there. I would give a few to my father so he could recover the gold he sold for my treatment, and with the rest, I would build my own hut and take Chiro to live with me, paying the bride price when he got married. As for my own marriage, I hadn’t considered it, but if there was a man worthy of my great wealth, I’d think about it. Maybe I’d have enough money to not marry at all, and just be able to row my own boat every morning, and live my own life. The village was still home, you see, despite my cruel banishment, and I think I always saw it as somewhere to return to, no matter where I went. But what had changed was how I would return, it wouldn’t be a coward’s entrance, turning over to show my belly like some beaten dog. No, I would return with my head held high or I wouldn’t return at all.
I must have collected about ten or twelve of the stones in a fold of my sari which I held up like a sack, when the path ended abruptly by a small hut. And there, sitting right out in the open and combing what was left of her grey hair was the old woman.
‘Good morning, my dear,’ she said, without missing a beat. ‘I wondered when you’d be up and about.’
‘You knew I was here?’ I asked, all thoughts of riches flying from my head.
‘Of course I did.’ She sounded surprised. ‘The island told me. I trust it made you comfortable?’
‘Then these are your jewels,’ I said, disappointed.
She laughed. ‘Not mine, dear child, they belong to the island. I suppose it wanted us to meet and led you down to me.’
‘So I can
keep them?’
‘Keep them for all the good it’ll do you.’ She went off into a gale of her funny laughter – hack-hack-hack – I wondered what was so funny and then realized that my lap felt queerly light. When I pulled down my sari, all the gems were gone.
The old woman laughed so hard, she got out of breath and had to hold on to the front of her chest, doubling over and gasping. ‘Oh – I haven’t laughed like that in a long time! Oh, your face.’
I was inclined to be a little upset at being laughed at, but the wind tickled my face again and even a nearby bird gave a chirp that sounded astoundingly like a giggle. I couldn’t be angry in this spot, mysterious as it was, even if it was filled with beings that mocked me.
She had recovered her breath by now, and began to run her fingers through her hair again. For a second, the air around her shimmered and her hair fell to her knees, now black as ebony, now gold, now the red of the stones I had picked up, now thick silver, running through her fingers like silk. Then she made a flicking motion with her fingers and the air stood still again, leaving her the old bent woman she was before – with wispy white hair and gnarled old fingers which she used to quickly put her hair up in a bun.
‘Sometimes when the island is feeling particularly loving, it gives me a treat,’ she told me. ‘Then I look as young as you are right now, and very beautiful, but who is there to see it? Only the birds and the trees. I have stopped with my vanities. I think it’s better we get acquainted with my true face.’
The One Who Swam with the Fishes Page 6