Kama: Liberation(Vol-II)

Chapter 16. Bodies Change, Souls Don't

In the bigger lane of Time, where the amalgamation of births paint godhood, there is no foe, only lessons.

****

Aryavarta had so much to celebrate on this day. History was repeating, and in a good way. The devastation that preceded the coronation of late Rajan Madhavan and all the connecting chaos had made parents wary of sending their daughters to war. The trauma was transferred through generations, rendering ambitions futile. As years passed by, girls were seen as the scholarly Saraswati, the astute Lakshmi, or a benevolent Gauri, but never the ferocious Kalika. With the advent of Indumala's victory, however, parents began dreaming of sending their daughters to the army again.

A weight was lifted off the shoulders of Ishgar. Her children smiled, basking in the light of a new dawn. A new beginning.

Swarming through the happy crowd were whispers of a reincarnation. Although the previous population, which existed before the plague, was mostly wiped out, memories travelled through souls and blood. The horror of the fire and the malodorous decay became nighttime staples engraved into stories to put babies to sleep. Sleep, otherwise the horned beast shall come, and fire will turn us to ashes– so did the tale say. The name of the princess had become unfortunate, for her association with the so-called horned beast invited the plague to Ishgar.

No one took the name of the late wife of Rudra.

No one took the name of Petra.

She was shoved below a carpet, pressed upon by the crushing sandals of patriarchy who maligned her name along with the eternal evil.

But now, as the folk sniffed a rebirth, they were guilt-stricken and humbled by how the one whom they blamed for the plague returned the rains to Ishgar, the girl whose name they spat like dirt defeated the biggest enemy of the kingdom. Not only that, but she was the ansh of Kalika. The goddess lived within her.

Some were ashamed, their conscience holding a mirror at their false accusations. The young lads who used to mock Indumala for her birthmark now no longer perceived it as ugly, but saw it as a living reminder of how the lust within a man could scar a woman for several births. The elders who had shunned her as a little kid now cried for redemption. Thus, they wrote letters of apology, full of love and sincerity, to the newly crowned Nridevi.

Amidst the resolutions and acceptance of wrongdoings, there was a sparkle of sweet mischief. The citizens had witnessed the way the Rajan's hand curled around Indumala's shoulder, his fluttering gazes and quivering smiles worshipping her like a lover. He showered immense respect on her, elevated her to the stage of a queen despite her not being one. But who were they to question? It was a gala time. Their monstrous Rajan was healing, mending his ways. And indeed, Indumala would be their queen one day. The loveliest queen Ishgar would see.

Such was the ambience of the kingdom. Inside the palace, the lovebirds sat in Rudra's room. Dinner was done and they had retired to enjoy some private moments. And now that Aryamna didn't glare at them so much like before, Rudra wished to convince Indumala to stay back for a little longer.

"I am not asking you to sleep here," he clarified. "Maybe put me to sleep and then go. I won't mind if you sneak out when I am snoring."

Indumala removed her bangles and combed her hair. Lately the changes caused her to grow warmer near him, and even shy. The girl that would hop around and say silly things to irk the Rajan suddenly took a break. That facet of hers was still there, perhaps, but at present Indumala felt older. As if she were a twenty-something old in the body of a seventeen-years old. Or, maybe older.