The Lost Princess

One

The dusk was nearly here as the birds began to bid farewell to the sun who would sink into the sea to rest. Padma, my handmaiden was brushing my hair, setting it into a braided bun. My elder sister, leela, was getting married. The palace was in an uproar of celebrations and all I wanted was to be left alone. But I was a princess and perhaps it is my duty to maintain a certain decorum, follow a few rules and let the elders decide the shape of my life. Whether I wanted it round or square they just did not care. Well except for my father that is.

On the other hand, the henna mistress sat by the foot of my chair, inking in patterns on my palms that would need some time to dry off. She drew a lotus within a circle, petals and all, with such practiced ease that I envied her. There was a red dress on my bed that awaited me. I certainly did not want to go to this banquet but skanda had begged me to come along. His betrothed, Devi, had also buttered and cajoled and scolded and begged and finally I had to relent.

Padma put a jewelled hair pin into the centre of the bun to keep it in place and began to thread flowers into side of the bun, expertly pulling out a few curls that would hang by the side of my face. When she was done, she lined my eyes with kohl. I tried not to notice as she flinched slightly as she gazed at my blue eyes. The henna mistress rose and told me to wait for two hours and then she would come to wash off the henna. As she exited my chambers, dhai maa came rushing in. the first thing I noticed about her was her hair: a melange of brown and silver. I remembered its silken softness from the many memories of childhood when I used to runny my small hands through her hair playfully.

She loved me like her own daughter and I obviously basked in her biased love. She gazed at my face by looking at my reflection in the burnished mirror before me. As Padma moved across the room to pick up my jewellery, dhai maa pushed a sweet round ladoo into my mouth.

'Eat something, girl. You're as thin as a Shepard's stick.'

I rolled my eyes. 'And you're as stout as a banyan's trunk!'

She snorted. 'I'm an old widow. The world neither cares nor wishes to care about me.'

'Now you're just being self-critical.'

'And you're trying to divert the topic. How old are you anyway?'

'I'm surprised you don't know.' I say in mock shock.

'I know of how old you are. But do you have that realization? Do you realise that you are nineteen?'

'And a half.' I added to irritate her.

'Which make it even worse. Aren't you going to marry some fair lad or are you planning on being celibate?'

'I plan on the latter.' I said and bit back a rumble of laughter that rose from my throat.

She gave me gentle yet firm tap on my head.

'Just get married, Neela. How long are you going to stick to these walls, this unkind city like a leech?'

'Now you're being mean! I thought you said that I look pretty! Not like some black scary creature that fends off on blood!'

By the look on her face she wasn't amused. 'I am not joking here young lady.'

I took a deep breath. 'I know. I know you're not joking. And it isn't as if the prospect of marriage wasn't on my mind. Who would want a creature such as I?'

She gasped. 'Did someone say something like that to you?' she looked like she would behead somebody.

I shook my head. 'Even Padma is afraid of my eyes, afraid of me.'