Kama: Liberation (Vol-I)

Chapter 6: The Forbidden Room

The pain transcends births.

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The celebration had, undoubtedly, concluded in a mysteriously sour note. The kings and guests couldn't understand what led the Rajan to sing a song of tragic lust and dedicate it to the virtuous Senapati.

Of course, the song couldn't be about the Senapati himself, could it be?

Maybe it was about the lady in red. That woman was a whore in the eyes of many men, an object the king had stolen from a brothel.

The kings decided to do away with small-talks and took Aryamna with them, trying to cool down the upset man with pretty stories about love after marriage.

It wasn't the same for everyone, though.

Some had gotten the habit of mourning and raging with a chalice of wine, and that was what they went ahead with. As the hall was deserted and the lamps and diyas extinguished, Indumala drank in the dimness of the sultry night.

Her eyes were reddened. Knuckles turned pale as she gripped the chalice with all force, imagining it to be the fair neck of the Rajan.

"He disrespected Baba."

Bitter, thick liquid made her voice hoarse.

"Why?"

She had always assumed her father to have advised the Rajan for his good. Rudra gladly took it all, but what happened this night? "I can never understand."

The Rajan definitely was someone difficult to understand. A king singing for kings could be a thing, but to sing such a shameful story was inviting ruination.

"And the lady in red?"

Indumala kept down the chalice. "No, this is something serious."

She had never got the chance to talk with the woman directly, only watched her from a distance. The palace folk said she was the only woman whom the Rajan had bedded.

"And tonight, his woman got offended?"

No one could ever find out though. Her face was veiled and she rarely spoke.

Indumala chuckled. "Our beautiful, beloved lady likes to be a mystery box."

She felt a pang of jealousy. The lady in red was so poised, rumoured to be the prettiest lady on earth. She was said to be the next woman after Mataraj Pushyaar whose every wish the Rajan tried to fulfill.

"Alas, she can't taste freedom." She bit the insides of her cheek.

"Or maybe it's a choice?" a voice spoke.

Indumala gasped. A hand rested upon her shoulder, calming the flinching Indumala. She blinked twice, squinting her eyes to clearly outline who stopped her. The darkness made it even more impossible to judge. "Who are you?"

The wine had seeped into her blood and mind, diluting the senses, blurring it all.

She wondered if she was imagining. The hand was veiled in darkness, rather the whole being was, much like the lady in red. What she could separate from the haunting black were a pair of golden bangles.

"I am someone who had been burnt, long back," the stranger said.

Indu rubbed her eyes. No, the being didn't leave. It had knelt in front of her. Warm hands, the touch of fire in winters, caressed her cheeks. The bodyguard craned her neck, feeling the gentle feathery touches. They were careful, fragile, often repelling. The skin wasn't burnt, or if it had truly ever been, the healing period had given the person a buttery smooth lustre.