Narabali

Chapter 5. The Young Flower

It is a bed of flowers. A wedding night, a couple's first time.
Nandini peeks through the curtains that separate the Dead and the Living.
The woman has a face as full as the moon and as glowing as the sun, but tonight, clouds shroud her eyes. Heavy rain-clouds, ready to break any moment.
The man is beneath her, as it should be, as dictated by Chinnamasta.
The seer doesn't see them, but Nandini does– her omnipresent being is everywhere.
Perhaps the woman feels the presence of Nandini, for her eyes don't rest on the moaning face of the man, but on the dark-grey walls, where red-dyed palms leave an imprint.

****

It was the auspicious morning of the puja. Everybody was awake, except the pampered princess Shalini and the supposed rich brat Tirtha. Boro Babu Hrishav was in the temple, instructing Lalon and Ramu on the making of the yagna kund. The Rajon was busy with meeting guests and decorations, and then went out in his regal carriage.

Maya had taken a bath and wore a pink saree. She tied her hair in a bun and took a jute basket, heading for the lush green garden. The flowers were in full bloom, staring proudly at the warm sun. Their colours were more vibrant today– the red of hibiscus induced goosebumps in her soul, reminding her of a holy bloodbath. The white ones resembled the fluffy clouds of autumn, and all the rest created a serene rainbow.

Mother Nature herself made the arrangements for her oblations.

Maya plucked the flowers, remembering to utter a mantra before putting them in her basket. Her pull was soft and tender, careful to not hurt the stems. She saw her own self in those plants– her body as fragile as theirs, yet a holder of beauty. She brushed her hands over the floral bed. Walking beside the bushes, she noticed a few wilting ones. She had seen them on her first day in this mansion, when Hrishav had asked her to change the pots.

Perhaps he treated his women the same way as his flowers. Water them, embellish them, keep caretakers for the precious ones. And when his heart desired, snatch them from the comfort of motherly earth and drink their nectar.

Whether Hrishav truly loved the garden or not, Maya had the responsibility to keep it unharmed. With the basket still in her grip, she went and inquired from the guards where she could find some pots.

"Why do you need those?"

"Boro Babu had asked me to put the drooping plants in a different pot," she said. "Otherwise they won't have fruits and buds."

The guard nodded in understanding. "You will find some spare ones in the second floor. The room which has it is usually open. In case you have trouble finding, send a message."

This guard was the same one who had come to escort her to the mansion. He was pretty rude that day, and even now his tone was edgy, until she took the name of Boro Babu. Maya didn't feel like analysing his demeanor further, so turned back to leave. But her brisk walk was interrupted by his call. "Wait," he came and stood in front of her, "Boro Babu was asking if you got exactly twenty coins. Did you count?"

Maya's facial muscles contorted for a fleeting moment. She gathered her composure, straining her lips to fake a humble smile. "I did. Exactly twenty. No more, no less." And nothing else.

"If you ever get a different amount, please inform Boro Babu."

Maya giggled, a sharp inflection in her voice sending a chill down the guard's spine. "Pardon me, but why would someone do a mistake in counting coins? The rich ones aren't uneducated like us."