“The Uttarapatha, my lady. Not far now to Kapilavastu.”
The road was no longer the rocky path of the heights or the muddy trail through the swamp. It ran flat and wide and straight, flanked by tall kusim trees with thick, overarching boughs. Dappled sunlight fell around them but the recesses of the woods on either side were dark, and the travelers heard rather than saw the animals that lived in them.
They emerged from the forest in the afternoon and began to see fields of millet and rice on one side of the road. On the other, taller green stalks grew.
“Captain Sukesa,” Sakhi called. “What is that?”
“Sugar cane, my lady,” he replied with a broad smile. “It sweetens life in Kapilavastu. And over there,” he added, pointing at masses of yellow flowers, “the first mustard crop is almost ready to harvest. Sakyan mustard seed is famous for its healing properties.”
A few women dressed in yellow the same color as the flowering mustard plants were working the fields, while in the shade of a large solitary tree a boy in a white dhoti tended a few cattle. Small huts were scattered here and there in the distance.
Ahead, the capital city of the Sakyas shimmered through the waves of summer heat. The sun descended as they approached until at last, as the sky turned violet and orange and red, they reached the city’s enormous wooden gates. Six guards in Sakyan gold and blue saluted Captain Sukesa and two of them slid the gates open to reveal a broad street teeming with people. Beautiful structures, some three levels high, were surrounded by walls of decorated wood, white-painted brick, or stone, and topped with hundreds of lamps that lit the curious faces of men and women in vivid clothing and jewels.
Runners carrying torches appeared as if by magic to light their way. Captain Sukesa rode alongside Sakhi. “The merchants’ quarter, my lady.”
Sakhi was speechless. If merchants and tradesmen lived like this, she couldn’t imagine the dwellings of the Sakyan nobility.
Sukesa waved his hand. “All the most respected merchants and physicians and engineers live in this quarter. Even craftsmen and artisans. The best goldsmith in the city lives over there,” he said as they passed a smaller home with an exquisitely carved wooden gate. Its walls were covered with vines full of pink blossoms. “In Kapilavastu, you don’t have to have an ancient lineage to have wealth and influence.”
Inside the palace gate, they proceeded along a road lined with tall trees and bushes with dark foliage covered in huge, white blooms that seemed to cast a magical light. Ahead was the palace, which to Sakhi’s surprise was not a many-leveled mansion like those they had passed on the road but a rambling structure with white walls that stretched forever into the shadows of the huge royal park.
Then they were at the palace’s broad door, and a dark figure rushed out from the shadows.
“Dhara!” Sakhi scrambled up and fell into Dhara’s arms, crying with grief and joy.
“Sakhi!”
They embraced amidst a chaotic blur. Captain Sukesa and his men dismounted and stable boys came to take their tired horses. Guards in blue and yellow milled around, laughing and joking with Sukesa and his men.
“Mistress,” Mitu said. “What shall I do?”
“Mitu,” Dhara said, appraising her with narrowed eyes. Mitu bowed deeply. “Why did you bring her?” she said to Sakhi.
Dhara’s coolness shocked Sakhi. “She was so brave during the battle. You have no idea what we went through. I couldn’t have left Dhavalagiri if she hadn’t come along.”
“But she’s not trained to serve in the palace.”
“Captain Sukesa said I could bring her.” Sakhi and Mitu exchanged frightened glances.
“I suppose it’s all right. You!” Dhara signaled to a servant. “See this woman has appropriate palace attire. She will serve my friend.” Her imperious tone was another shock.
“Mistress Sakhi,” Mitu said in consternation. “What about Deepa and the boys?”
“I will take care of everything,” Sukesa said, breaking from the crowd of laughing guards. “Don’t worry.”
“And you are?” Dhara said in that same imperious tone.
“Captain Sukesa, my lady.” He bowed. “I have served the king for many years. It’s my honor to make sure all is well for Mistress Sakhi.”
“Indeed. Thank you, Captain. Come, Sakhi. I’ll take you to my rooms.”
This commanding young woman was Dhara, yet she wasn’t. Sakhi clung to her as they wove through the jumble of people, animals, and baggage behind a maid along a torchlit passage.
As they walked, the noise faded. “Dhara, your father… ” Sakhi’s voice quivered.
“I know. I saw.”
“How did you see?”
“I have so much to tell you.” Dhara was dry-eyed, calm. Sakhi didn’t know what to make of this haughty self-possession. They had been separated for perhaps ten days, but in that time Dhara must have had unimaginable adventures. She was still a slender beauty with long, silky hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, but she was also an elegant young woman with a thick gold band around her neck, and ears pierced with winking yellow gems. Sakhi wanted to reach out and touch Dhara’s smooth antariya flecked with gold thread that swished as she walked. Sakhi was acutely aware of her dusty old clothes, her sweaty smell, and her tangled, dirty hair, and also aware that the maid, whose antariya was almost as lovely as Dhara’s, was naked to the waist.
Dhara’s room had elegant oil lamps that made it bright as day though night had fallen. There were jewel-toned pillows scattered everywhere and billowing fabric hanging like low clouds from the ceiling.
“Fetch towels and fresh clothes, Emba,” Dhara commanded, and the girl bowed and backed out.
They were alone. Sakhi wanted to take Dhara’s hands and search her face for the girl who was her heart’s sister, but she was suddenly shy. Then Dhara put her hands on Sakhi’s shoulders. Their eyes met and at the same moment they burst into tears. They clung to each other, sobbing and sobbing.
“Oh, Dhara. It was hideous. Where were you?”
“Forgive me, forgive me!”
“Don’t cry, heart’s sister!” They embraced, shaking with sobs, their hot tears mingling. “Don’t cry, don’t cry.”
Gradually they calmed down and settled on Dhara’s bed. Dhara sniffed and brushed the tears from her eyes. “Oh, Sakhi, I wanted to find you, to fight alongside Father, but Mala said we had to fly away… I was an eagle… ”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Mala came to tell me.”
“Mala! She was incredible!” Then Dhara didn’t ask about the village, didn’t ask who had survived and who had perished, but seemed compelled to recite such fantastical events that if Sakhi had not seen Mala, she would have thought her friend had gone mad.
“Then we landed in the cremation grounds—can you imagine? There’s a king there, Harischandra… he is doing a penance… and then Siddhartha… wait until you meet him… Oh, forgive me, Sakhi! You are all right, aren’t you?” Dhara took Sakhi’s hands and squeezed them, then kissed their entwined fingers. “I wanted to fight for my people… we saw a rishiki, Bhadda, she was amazing, so wise! She bested a Brahmin… And then Siddhartha, oh, he is the most wonderful boy I’ve ever met… ” The words poured out interspersed with “Forgive me!” and “Are you all right?” without a minute between for Sakhi to respond. Then suddenly she stopped. “Listen. Your brother brought Siddhartha and me to Kapilavastu in a whirlwind! You’re to meet him tomorrow.”
“My brother—” Sakhi began, but Dhara interrupted.
“But I can’t believe you haven’t even asked about Bhallika! He’s quite a catch, my dear Sakhi! Everyone is dying to meet the girl who stole his heart. But you’ll meet him tomorrow, too. Don’t be shocked; he was beaten and robbed on the road.”
Sakhi wanted to ask more, but Emba returned with towels
and another maid. They led her, exhausted, down dark paths to a bathing tank under the stars. The vague thought that someone could be watching flitted past as the maids undressed her and soaped her whole body and her hair. She was too tired and awed to feel embarrassed at being naked before strangers.
Dhara was gone when Sakhi returned. She didn’t have the energy to ask for her friend, and fell onto the bed. On a small, low altar in the corner, a single oil lamp glowed in front of a wooden statue of a god and goddess entwined in a passionate embrace.
Tomorrow she would see Bhallika and Nalaka. Now she would sleep.
When Sakhi woke, Mitu told her Dhara had gone off with Siddhartha to the practice field. “She said they have lessons,” Mitu said, “and she thought you would want to meet your brother alone.” Mitu’s face glowed with excitement. “I can’t wait to see him! I was just a little girl when he left the village.” She left a tray of food and backed out.
Sakhi wasn’t the least bit hungry. She was jealous of everyone who had known her brother before she did. He was her only family, and she didn’t know him at all. That was about to change, and it should have made her glad, but instead she was hurt and angry that he’d never tried to contact her parents or her.
She was especially jealous of Dhara, who couldn’t stop talking about what a powerful yogi he was, the way he and the intimidating queen laughed together like children over old times, how wise and knowledgeable he was in the Vedas and philosophy. At least in that, Sakhi could honor their father’s memory. Bhrigu had taught her well.
“Mistress! He’s here.”
Sakhi held her breath. A hand pushed the curtain aside, and a tall man, tall as Bhrigu, entered the room. Sakhi’s heart stopped. They gazed at each other. In his simple white robes, Nalaka was the image of their father. A momentary thought that Dhara must be blind not to have seen it was replaced by sudden shyness. She looked down.
“Namaste, sister,” he said.
She looked up. He was bowing over joined palms. “N-namaste,” she said, and burst into tears.
Nalaka and Sakhi spent the morning in a corner of the queen’s beautiful gardens getting acquainted. For the most part, Sakhi was tongue-tied, and he did most of the talking, telling her stories of their parents, of their village, and of his time at Valmiki’s ashram. When it was time for the midday meal, a servant appeared from nowhere with a tray of food. They ate in silence, then Nalaka showed her more of the palace and its grounds.
“I will take you to the merchant Bhallika’s house,” he said. “In my presence, he will ask for your hand, and we will make your betrothal official. But first, I’ll show you where I live.”
Sakhi could hardly take in anything after that. A manicured path led through a friendly woods to the Nigrodha Grove, where Nalaka had a modest hut. On the way, Sakhi was unable to engage in conversation—her thoughts were so full of Bhallika—but it wasn’t necessary for her to talk. Nalaka had much to say about Kapilavastu and its sacred grove, where the Sakyas sheltered sages, rishis, and yogis from all schools and disciplines.
They wandered past many simple dwellings until they reached his. “Of course, the grove is open to all, but now that you know where my home is, you must not ever hesitate to come see me or send for me if there’s anything you need,” Nalaka said. “Now we shall go to the merchant’s quarter and see Bhallika.”
The path to the merchant’s quarter led past a somewhat larger dwelling. “That’s where the rishiki Saibya and her pupil Kirsa live,” he said. “They are famous for their healing skills.”
“A woman?” This caught Sakhi’s attention. “Can we meet her?”
“In the afternoons, they go to the houses of healing. You shall meet them some other time.”
When at last they reached the merchants’ quarter, Sakhi began to shake, and when she saw a mansion surrounded by vine-covered walls, with a tree that grew inside overhanging the street, she knew it was Bhallika’s, and she could hardly take another step.
Through the gate she went, past a servant who bowed, into a cool corridor and up some steps as if she had been here before and knew right where to find him. There he was, reclining on a couch, his face swollen and bruised, but a smile on his lips and his arms reaching out to her.
“Sakhi… Sakhi… Sakhi,” he murmured. “You’re home.”
Two weeks had passed since her arrival, and Sakhi was impatient to leave the palace for her husband-to-be’s home. She was impatient with Dhara, whose airs irritated her.
In Dhara’s room, the floor was littered with colorful silken antariyas. Emba and Embalika were holding them up one at a time for Dhara’s inspection.
“Do you like this one?” Dhara said, cocking her head toward the one Emba held up. “Or this one?” She turned to Embalika, who draped a royal blue antariya over her arm.
Sakhi sighed. “They’re all so beautiful.”
“I think this one.” Dhara pointed at Emba, who began to wrap the bright yellow cloth embroidered with little green birds around Dhara’s hips. The little birds’ eyes were tiny gems that sparkled in the lamplight. “I want to be the most beautiful at tonight’s feast. Before it’s time to go, you must come to see my new chambers. They’re so grand!”
“I still don’t understand why you must have separate rooms after you’re married.”
“You and Bhallika will, too, after the wedding. Everyone does. That is, the nobles and rich folk like your husband-to-be,” Dhara said with a coy smile.
After the wedding… Sakhi could still hardly believe it was to be. If only it could be sooner.
“Shall I comb your hair, Mistress Sakhi?” Mitu had just entered the room.
“Mitu, you must wait until the page announces you!” Dhara said.
Mitu stiffened.
“But we want to be alone. Begone. You, too.” Dhara waved a hand at her maids. “I’ll dress myself.” She sat down before her polished tin mirror and ran an ivory comb through her silky hair.
Mitu glowered as she backed out. The rose-colored curtains into the antechamber fell closed behind her and the maids.
Dhara’s attitude dismayed Sakhi, but she but felt helpless to say anything. This was not the sister of her heart that she used to be able to say anything to.
“That’s better,” Dhara said after they were gone. “I don’t like them spying on me. I’ll comb your hair.”
“You pull too hard at the tangles. Mitu doesn’t spy.”
“Oh, fine.” Dhara stood and tossed the comb on the dressing table with a clatter. She headed to the heap of elegant silken antariyas strewn on the thick white wool rug. “I don’t like the yellow.” She held a dark green silk to her chest and frowned. She tossed it aside and dug through the heap. “But those two stupid maids spy. I couldn’t send them away and let Mitu stay.”
Dhara pulled up a gauzy rose cloth patterned with golden vines and flowers in reds and deep pinks. It was almost transparent.
“You can’t wear that!” Sakhi exclaimed.
“Siddhartha will like it.” Dhara went to the door and yanked the curtain aside. “Had to be sure.” She came back and took Sakhi’s hand. “I’m going to Siddhartha’s bed tonight after the feast. I don’t want Emba telling his majesty you’ll be alone here.” She grinned.
“Don’t mock me,” Sakhi said unhappily.
When she arrived in Kapilavastu, King Suddhodana had been busy with his councils and concubines, and Sakhi was sure he’d forgotten her. She was of no importance at court, and no beauty. But her reunion with Dhara and her long-lost brother and Bhallika distracted her, and she’d given it no further thought. Then a few days after she settled into Dhara’s quarters, Emba delivered Suddhodana’s summons while Embalika giggled.
“What will I do?” Sakhi asked in horror. “Doesn’t he know I’m to be married? What would Bhallika say if the king… if he… ”
“Tell the king Sak
hi’s blood is flowing,” Dhara had ordered Emba. “That will keep him away for a week.”
“I wish I were married and living in Bhallika’s mansion,” Sakhi said, sitting down next to Dhara. The date set by the court astrologers for their joint nuptials was not for another month.
“Oh, stop it. It’s a compliment! Don’t worry, he’ll forget about it. Someone brought a new slave girl with golden hair from somewhere in the west. I wonder if all of it’s gold.” Dhara giggled and picked up the comb. She tugged at Sakhi’s tangled waves. Her best feature, Atimaya had always said.
“Stop, Dhara. It hurts.”
“Oh, call for Mitu, then. You look lovely in blue. Now let’s finish getting ready and go to the feast.”
Sakhi left the feast as soon as she could. She had avoided looking at Suddhodana, who sat at the royal table, but she’d felt his eyes on her. Soon Dhara returned too, only to wrap herself in a dark cloak to go out again.
“Please stay. I don’t want to be alone,” Sakhi said. “The king was looking at me.”
“Of course. Lots of men were. You looked pretty, in your blue. Now don’t worry, silly owl, and go to sleep.”
“But what if you’re caught on your way to Siddhartha’s bed?” It was a foolish argument. From the moment Sakhi arrived in Kapilavastu, Dhara had shared rapturous details about assignations with her prince. It was a secret, she said, but Sakhi already knew enough about the court to know it was the subject of gossip.
The Mountain Goddess Page 29