Narabali

Chapter 1. The Dance of the Wife

Thus asks the seer, "O Nandini, your body is of soft flesh and fragile bones.
How will you kill the king?"

Nandini says,
"I will die at the hands of Maharaja.
I, a poor woman, of no value, shall sacrifice her life.
Alas, the Maharaja doesn't know,
That my death is my only weapon,
my biggest weapon.
It will haunt him forever."

****

In the heart of a small town unknown to all maps and lost among uncountable coordinates, the namesake of the Devi struggled to wake up from her deep slumber.

Maya was her name, the beloved daughter of a single doting father. Her eyes as dark as blazing coal and skin dipped in the copper of dawn shone under the incandescent rays of the sun. It was a fresh morning following a raging storm. The rains had cooled down the earth, also sealing Maya's eyes with sleep. Still in the land of lucid dreams, the young woman ignored the calls of her upset father.

"Maya, wake up." Intentionally he kept the utensils and spatulas with a clinking thump. "Won't you sell the flowers?"

She twisted and turned on the mattress, pulling the blanket closer to her body. The blanket was possibly older than her age, with holes in it and threads peeking out. Yet, it didn't make Maya shudder. There was such an inebriating comfort to relaxing after a rainy night. One forgot every pain, exhaustion just an unreal nightmare. She smiled as the fragrance of wet grass wafted to her nose. In her mind, Maya imagined the goddess walking along the moist roads, her red-dyed feet leaving a trail so beautiful.

Shuffling noises disturbed her vision. Falgun came and threw away the blanket, sprinkling holy water on her face. She scrunched her nose and kicked her legs. "Baba! What sort of behaviour is this?"

He scoffed. "And should a working woman sleep so late? Look, it has crossed eight. If you don't go and sell the flowers they will rot in the house."

Maya reluctantly rose. Her Baba had already arranged the baskets of flora. Those were overflowing with tulsi leaves and marigold garlands. She went and inspected the petals. Some of them had gotten grey cobwebs and black spots. She removed the spoilt ones and ensured there was no insect roaming in the bunch. "What about the hibiscus?" she asked. Her most loyal customers were lovers of the scarlet beauty.

Falgun didn't reply. His lips murmured a mantra of Kali while he worshipped her with incense. When the puja was over, he glared at Maya. "The ones I had collected have all wilted. Can't you see how bad it is raining nowadays?"

"As if I am to be blamed."

"But you could have woken up early to sell the flowers. The Raja's men come at dawn. They pay well. But you don't think of earning-"

"Baba, it was raining last night. Even at dawn. I don't think anybody came to the market."

"Oh, but they will now. Go and hurry up!"

Maya adjusted her aanchal and opened an old, scrapped almirah. Inside, covered in a dry cotton cloth were a few hibiscus. She flaunted them to Falgun. "See, your girl knows tricks."

Falgun gathered his brows, then cleared his throat. "Fine, you are learning." A smile made his lips quiver, but he didn't allow his father's pride to be evident. "Don't assume that you know everything. There is more to understand about flowers. They are delicate and require a lot of attention."