Samsāra

Chapter Eight

He always saw her. She frequented the garden often, dressed in plainly coloured saris and smiling at the flowers, the sombre woman Gandhari as an escort. She did not know he saw her, but he did and he knew she looked at him too. To his chagrin others did to, Sethupathi and Bheema once talked effusively about her beauty and how she would feel in bed, if she would be the screamer or the one that clutched until he couldn't bare it anymore and ordered them to stop. To be honest, he had those daydreams to, she didn't scream but she clutched and smiled sweetly at him, the same way she did with the flowers, with adoration and more. He often dreamed they went swimming together and he brought her lotuses while she lay on the bank among the rivers. He hated those dream because it made him weak, some days he hated her too because he always wanted to see her.

It was a surprise to him that she had not yet told anyone she had saved his life. Anyone else would want the praises and fame that was associated with being the prince of Mahishmathi's saviour. But she kept tight-lipped about the whole affair, as if she was embarrassed to tell. Bahu pointed this out too, the evening they were strolling the garden and he had waved at her. She had smiled back at him, a close mouth smile but a smile nonetheless, but for him she had nothing but a frown. Bhalla had shrugged when his cousin-brother pointed out that his saviour wasn't telling everyone that she was.

Maybe she wants to tell mother, Bhalla had said with a shrug. But getting an audience with Rajamata Sivagami would be hard. Bhalla could not tell if his mother was ignoring the girl on purpose or not. It had been six months since that trial that brought her to the palace; it had been a relief to him when it was proven she was not a ganika anger replaced it. Needless to say, Khanipathi Ashimat would not been on his feet anytime soon, neither will Kalika. After the trial, Rajamata Sivagami had installed the girl in her own apartments with the Rajavaidya and servants to attend to her needs and when it was reported the girl could not speak or understand their language she had provided a tutor. If the girl could indeed not speak, how did everyone understand her that day in the throne room? But Rajamata Sivagami wasn't interested in the mystery; she turned her attention to the insurgents who appeared to have gone underground or by some miracle disbanded. His mother was not satisfied with their apparent disappearance, she sent out spies after spies and each one came back with the report of inactivity.

Bhalla was strolling through the garden again with hopes to see her all the way hating himself for his weakness. He wasn't going to get the throne by being weak. His father had taught him again and again that he must never be weak. You are a Kshatriya! Weakness does not become a warrior. You must remove everything that will derail you; anything that does not make you strong is an enemy! Despite those words he still couldn't stop himself. She would be here at this time, with her upadhyayi Gandhari, kneeling in the dirt and staining her sari as she sniffed at flowers with a small smile on her face. She wore no jewellery except for her septum ring and a necklace that she sometimes starred at with the tenderest expression. When he saw that, jealousy seized him until he couldn't breathe, he wondered if the necklace was from a lover and then he had black thoughts for the rest of the hour.  

Today however, she wasn't there. Bhalla stopped suddenly that one of his guards almost walked into him. Glancing around, he ascertained this was the spot. Her favourite spot, it had the artfully shaped pond and the wild lilies she stuck behind her hair, the stone bench between two marble statues of dancing women where Gandhari would sit and watch her like an indulgent mother and later clicking her tongue, she will call the girls name Ajiona. Many times alone he would whisper her name to himself and imagine her responding to his call with a big smile. It was this spot and at this hour. He felt a deep sense of disappointment. Where was she?

It was then a servant ran up to him and his retinue, sweating and panting loudly. 'The girl is fighting one of Kattapa's men.' He gasped out.

Alarms rang in his head; the members of Kattapa's clan were the wielder of deadly martial arts. What was she thinking fighting him? He kept a cool facade as a side of his mouth pulled up in a jeering smile. She must be stupid challenging him. Who is it?

'Anila,' said the servant, his breathing a little less harsh.

A little of worry left him. 'Ah, the weak one,' he said. 'This should be entertaining.'

Bhalla motioned for the servant to lead them and he followed, choosing an easy unhurried pace. The fight was taking place at one of the training yards and was crowded with people, servants and courtiers alike, cotton cloths mixing with silk. They all parted as he approached and he saw her. She wasn't wearing a sari, only a kaunchika and skirt; her midriff was bare, showing off her smooth skin marred by the jagged line of the scar and an ugly purple bruise. Her curls in a thick braid and swung back and forth against the small of her back. He stood rooted, unable to take his eyes off her. She held two sticks like batons and was attacking Anila mercilessly and relentlessly with them, her face a terrifying mask of fury. She looked like a manifestation of Kali Ma. It took his breath away.

It was a letdown when the boy fell, his sword spinning away, his hands held up in surrender. The girl stood over him, her chest heaving in the most attractive way, he felt his body respond to the image and looked away sharply, chagrined. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her extend a hand to the boy and pulled him up then patted him comradely on the back. Her face was once again, open and friendly and he saw the boy smiling shyly at her touch. He felt that surge of irritation and quickly squashed it. To his surprise and surprise of everyone, she went over to Kattapa and bowed to the astonished man. No one heard what she said but it bowled Kattapa over. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted her maids. Two of them burst out from the crowd, running to their mistress one of them holding a sari they covered her with and then marched her off. The upadhyayi Gandhari was also there and she had choice words for the servants that loitered. The crowd dispersed.

The news of the fight spread through the palace and even leaked through the gates, seeping into the city. It wasn't a surprise that the news reached his mothers ears, what was a surprise was the smile they said she had after she heard it.

It's only a short chapter. I will be posting Samsāra every Saturday now, once a week. I hope you've enjoyed the previous chapters well