Samsāra

Chapter Twelve

Bahu was slowly leading himself into a trap, Bhalla watched his brother make the move he had predicted he would make with a small smirk. Bahu critically studied ashtapada planning his next move but Bhalla knew no matter he would still win.

When his brother finally made his move it was with great delight that he countered and left his opponent's king bare. So for the fourth time in a row, Bhalla won the game of chaturanga, if only winning the throne would be this easy, he thought. They were sitting on the balcony of Bhalla's chambers, it was late in the afternoon and the sun was slowly retreating to the western horizon. It was a cloudless day and the residual of the days fierce hotness was still apparent in the atmosphere.

'I quit!' Bahu declared grandly throwing up his arms in surrender.

'You didn't quit, you lost. Four times.'

'Yes, well...' he trailed off and picked up the small elephant piece studying it intently. 'Do you think she can play?'

Bhalla tensed, he knew the person he was referring to. 'How am I supposed to know that?' he asked rearranging the pieces on the ashtapada, cursing the way his traitorous heart was pounding at the mere mention of her. 'Are you up for one more game?'

'No, I've had my fill of losing for a day.'

'Perhaps if you play less like you one day, probably when we are old men, you will win.' Bhalla told him.

Bahu smiled and shook his head. 'I can never play like you Bhalla; I simply don't have the heart to.'

'It is just a game brother, and these are just game pieces. I just do what I must to win.'

'I think she can beat you,' Bahu said suddenly.

Bhalla couldn't help but snort. 'I don't mean to brag brother but I'm the best player in the city.'

'You beat mother, I admit when we were ten but that doesn't make you the best in the city.'

'Mother was the best. She beat our grandfather in ten games and got to be prime minister of the country. She defeated three undefeated mantris in the game, and a whole lot of other people. I defeated her and she was the best, which makes me the best.'

'A little bit conceited don't you think,' Bahu asked to which Bhalla shrugged. 'I still maintain my stance. You don't know her skills.'

Bhalla eyed his brother suspiciously, 'do you like her Bahu?' He asked, an ugly emotion beginning to stir.

'I find her fascinating. I'm curious about her, who she is, where she came from, in that order.'

Bhalla gritted his teeth, 'she could be a spy or an assassin.' He suggested.

Bahu gave him a look that clearly said not to be silly. 'An assassin that risked her life to save yours?’

Bhalla winced and looked away. He shrugged.

'Maybe you should invite her to our next game,' Bahu suggested.

'Sure, maybe mother too.'

Bahu ignored the sarcasm. 'That is a grand idea; it has been a long time since either of us has played against mother. The four of us can play chaturaji. One more game Bhalla, let's see if I win you this time.'

The sun had set when Bahu left, again Bhalla had won and he found it hard not to gloat. As he watched his brother's retreating figure he wondered if Bahu was going to see the girl and felt the surge of anger. She would prefer him, like every other person. Granted, he hadn't been very nice to her but he had always found it difficult to engage in friendly banter like Bahu. He would hate it if she became one of Bahu's mindless loyalists. Making up his mind, he called for a guard.

*

The pavilion was the first place he went to; he had often spied her there at this time of the evening either with a book or a veena, and each time completely without companions, no teacher, no attendants. As he made his way alone to the pavilion, he thought about what to say. He should start by thanking her for saving his life and then apologise for his behaviour. Bhalla paused at that thought, that was going to be difficult, he has never had to apologise for anything his entire life and wasn't entirely sure the words would come out smoothly from his mouth.

There was a few feet left between him and the pavilion when heard the melody of the string. It wasn't perfect and was a bit hesitant but Bhalla found it intriguing. The melody faltered, halted then started again this time in a rush of sounds accompanied by a wave of raw emotions. He found his feet moving faster and in no time he stood on the pavilion's threshold staring down at the girl. She wore a simple white cotton sari with pink borders and no jewellery except the little septum ring. Her hair fell in a soft cascade of dark locks, framing her face and spilling down her back. The frenzied music ceased as her long slender fingers stopped plucking at the strings and she turned to look at him, a frown furrowing her brow.
The words he had prepared flew out of his head with her probing green gaze on him.

'That sounded so much better than what madam Takshika had made us believe.' He finally said.

'What did she say?' she asked him, her voice a little hoarse.

He felt a little thrill of delight that she was talking to him. 'She was actually reporting to mother, she said you are unteachable and she had never met someone who was more lacking in talent as you are. She begged Rajamata for forgiveness and asked to be beheaded for her failure.'

She gave a small smile, 'She is that dramatic,' she said softly to herself.

'Are you punishing her for something?' Bhalla asked, curious.

'I'm not,' Ajiona protested.  She shook her head, paused to consider something and started over. 'Yes, I'm frustrating her on purpose. It's a childish reason but she rubs on me the wrong way and I enjoy her reactions but I don't want her to be beheaded.' She looked up at him with a smile and frowned again as if seeing him for the first time. 'I'm surprised you are talking to me. I get the feeling that you don't like me.'

Bhalla flinched and opened his mouth to give excuses but she continued:
'It's okay, I don't like you too, or your friends.'

Not for the first time, Bhalla felt disappointment. 'May I ask why?'

'Your friends harass the girls that work in the palace and you do nothing to stop them.'

Bhalla bristled. 'I don't control their action.'

'No, but you can caution them. They act crudely and frankly it reflects poorly on your personality. We have a saying where I come from, birds of a feather flock together. The fact that you do nothing points that you might be the type of person that conveniently looks away when there's trouble and that is the most despicable of persons.'

Bhalla stood shell-shocked, anger coursed through him how dare she? He thought, to lecture him... he opened his mouth to let his anger loose when she spoke again.

'I've never seen you smile before. Do you smile? I mean I always see you scowling as if you are angry at the world and your brother's always smiling. Can you smile at all?'

'What?' he was befuddled.

'Forget it,' she said and turned back to her veena.

Bhalla stood there uncertain staring at her with something akin to wonderment and confusion. 'I never did thank you for saving my life.'

'Are you thanking me now?' she asked.

'Yes, thank you for saving my life; I'm in your debt.'

She looked up at him again, her eyes searching. A smile curved her mouth. 'You don't like the idea of being indebted to anyone do you?' he said nothing. 'Don't worry, I won't ask for much yuvaraju. Thank you though, for coming to see me it has given us the opportunity to clear the air between us.' She stood up 'You must excuse me yuvaraju; I'm late for my evening lesson.' She bowed a little and walked past him. He caught a whiff of her scent, jasmine and honey.  'Good night,' she whispered.

'Good night,' he said back.