Kama: Liberation (Vol-I)

Chapter 34: People from the Past

Love can be confusing, but know if you ask Shiva, he is definitely going to answer.

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"We need to take the next step."

In the private chambers of Hamal, Aishan and powerful ministers had gathered for a meeting. A translucent yellow curtain separated the Rajan from his subordinates.

Aishan clapped his hands, shouting at the top of his voice. "Chandramukhi! You have been summoned!"

The men eagerly heard the jingle of anklets and the thudding of heavy steps, becoming louder and louder with each passing moment. The strong, numbing scent of amla oil wafted to their noses.

It was a woman with a grey head. "May the Rajan live long."

"Have you prepared a dark mage?"

"Yes, my Rajan."

Hamal grinned. "Impressive. She should be adept at using silver and be clean and accurate in her moves."

"She won't disappoint you, I give my word."

Chandramukhi had draped herself in the fur of a yak and a woollen bodice with pearl embedded in it. Her green eyes shone like two pretty edgy emeralds, a pair of magical pole stars in the dense amalgamation of masculine superiority.

"I wish to meet her tomorrow morning, Chandramukhi. And Aishan, look for an opportunity so that we may be able to send her soon in the palace of Aryavarta."

"I will do my duty diligently," Aishan said.

"Court is adjourned."

The men retired to their works. Hamal poured himself some wine and relaxed. Though, the silence was soon perturbed by the chime of anklets. Sometimes, Hamal would grow tired of these melodious noises. He hated anklets, so much that he would break those into sharp shards and pierce it through the thin veins of the girls.

Immediately, a fragrance reminiscent of exotic blossoms engulfed him, leaving an indelible mark of royal sophistication. Hamal kept the chalice of wine down with a rude clank and glared at the entrance.

It was his queen, Danube, gliding into the room, her presence a silent cascade of grace. Wrapped in flowing silks that caught the ambient light, she moved with a measured elegance, each step a delicate dance upon the intricately patterned carpets beneath. What struck Hamal the most were her emerald eyes. Unlike Chandramukhi, hers glimmered with timidity.

"He won't die." Those were her first words as she met Hamal's furious gaze. He raised his hand to touch her curls underneath the diaphanous veils. Admiration soon turned to violence as he grabbed her by the hair and made her wince.

Hamal gritted his teeth. "You won't try to be his saviour. You are now the wife of a god, and you must serve your husband."

He pushed her on his bed and tugged at her clothes. Slowly, he ripped the gossamer silk and callously threw away her jewellery. Danube sat there like a lifeless doll who had been taught to endure every ugly night as a passing nightmare.

"I know what my limits are, Hamal. I accept my fate."

He hovered above her. "You better do, my lovely queen."

Danube allowed the diabolical hunger of her husband to shroud her reality. Helplessly, she shut her eyes and bit on her lips as each of his kisses grew more wrathful. She had forgotten how to cry. The marks on her body had become more personal than her own emotions and consent. Danube was shunned in the present– the consequences of a sinful life she had led in the old past before dying at the hands of her so-called son.