Kama: Liberation (Vol-I)

Chapter 44: A Chalice of Blood

Do not come too close.

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Breaking the deafening silence, one could hear the screams of the still walls. Even the inanimate was suppressed, caged, lest it may cajole the gods to come down and topple the game of power.

When Indumala's feet graced the palace of Revat, corpses flashed in her vision. It was a heap of dead, debris of the past, memories lingering in the corner of her mind. They waited to break through the door of the present and deluge her world. The horrid stench polluted the sanctity.

A part of her was familiar with the memories. They weren't completely forgotten, just sealed.

Perhaps the seal was now broken.

Indumala couldn't help but feel too small, trapped within the darkness.

The curtains were drawn and very few lamps were lit. The vast expanse of the icy walls and the onyx marble floors weighed down on Indumala, as if they were walking through an endless tunnel. Her feet craved warmth, so did her eyes. It was a royal mayhem.

The Rajan of Revat had commissioned painters to tell the stories of his greatness to the world. In there, Indumala found him riding a horse, out on a hunt. Although, it wasn't a rich forest that he manoeuvred through. The naked bodies, so delicately portrayed, told it was a brothel. Lost in the cold greyish black tones was the elaborate crimson headdress of the Rajan. But his pupils shone scarlet, akin to two dying stars plucked from the sky. They were made in such a way that whoever looked at the painting would feel the gaze pierce their soul. The Rajan was as if omnipresent, the All-knowing entity.

Indumala squinted her eyes and inspected the inscription carved on the walls: I was there when nothing existed, she read in her mind, and I am here when creation flows. I am what kills you and gives you birth. I am my body, and also beyond, uncountable lives in my possession. To you, I may be a Rajan, but to those who have seen me, I am their God.

A shiver ran down Indumala's spine. Who was so sure of his greatness that they would claim to be god? Only the foolish commited such sins. Yet, this man seemed to be perfectly aware and complacent with himself.

Was he then, really someone important?

"He is a great orator." Rudra came and stood beside Indumala. "Unlike me. I find it hard to express my feelings, so forget about moving a whole crowd at the tip of my fingers."

Life was draining out of her body. The floor beneath sucked on her blood and heat. Invisible cold climbers curled around her dainty legs. Rudra came and kept a hand on her little waist. "Indu, does it scare you?"

Something was eerily similar about this place. She had thought it would be something new. Surely it wasn't the gruesome legends she heard about distant lands that crept in her mind. People used to put babies to sleep by narrating grim stories, most of them a fabricated or a twisted version of the truth. Revat could have been a personification of all those cursed lands. But Indumala knew it wasn't that. She wasn't confusing man-made fairytales with reality. Her memory wasn't so fragile.

Again, she couldn't remember being here. She had not come to Revat before.

A voice boomed in the darkest corners of her mind. Perhaps long ago.

She gulped. "It's strange, Rudra."

"Well put. This is a strange place."

Indumala's eyes roved over the other depictions. The walls were full of the Rajan's glories. They sang of his might, his endless empire stretching across Aryavarta. The latter was a blatant lie. Indumala knew it was Rudra's autonomy that reigned over Aryavarta, and even beyond, to Kemet and Gandhar.