The Forest of Enchantments Read online

  ‘As royal consort, my mother sat beside my father in the yagna and received the kheer. But her delight was short-lived. My father insisted that she share it with Kaikeyi. My mother couldn’t disobey the royal command, but she diluted it by giving some of the kheer to Sumitra. Thus, the four of us were born.

  ‘You must have been a great solace to your mother,’ I said, pleased that we were now entering a happier part of the story.

  ‘Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.’ Even in the dark I could hear the sorrow vibrating through my husband’s voice. ‘She thought my birth—and especially the fact that I was the eldest—would bring her what she’d always longed for, the love of her husband. But it didn’t. Father gave her many rich gifts—and then went back to Kaikeyi, whose influence over him grew even stronger when she gave birth to Bharat.’

  Ram, however, remained Dasharath’s favourite. This was a two-edged sword for Kaushalya. She loved that the king cherished her son more than the other boys. Dasharath had little to say to Kaikeyi and Sumitra’s sons when their mothers dressed them in their best and brought them over to offer pranams. But he’d sit for hours listening to the baby Ram babbling nonsense. This also meant, however, that Dasharath wanted him nearby all the time. Kaushalya got Ram to herself only to bathe and feed and sing lullabies. Her mother-heart was always hungry, but she had one solace: he slept in her bed. She’d force herself to stay awake at night just to watch the marvel of him breathe.

  But things got worse.

  ‘When I was a little older, my father decreed that I should live in his quarters. He took excellent care of me. Sometimes, waking at night, I’d find him personally covering me with the quilt I’d kicked off, or soothing a nightmare. Awed by this man, larger than life, who was not only my father but my King as well, I couldn’t tell him how much I missed my mother.’

  Soon Dasharath began to take Ram to court with him. I could picture Ram, a quiet and serious boy, listening to debates about law and justice, strategic meetings about wars, and long discussions of what was best for the kingdom. All of it sank deep, transforming him from a child into a prince.

  ‘I was particularly struck by the complaints against the man-eating rakshasa tribes that were encroaching upon our kingdom from the forest- borders, terrorizing our people,’ Ram said. ‘I remember announcing to my father that I’d drive them away permanently. Failing that, I’d kill them. I remember how proud that made him.’

  ‘You fulfilled your promise, didn’t you, when you rid Vishwamitra of the rakshasas that were ruining the prayer ceremonies in his ashram?’

  ‘Yes. I tried to run them off first, but Tarhaka and her people—foolishly brave—refused to retreat. They attacked Lakshman and me, and I was forced to cut them down,’ Ram said. ‘It gave me no pleasure though.’

  For a while, we both silently contemplated what he’d said. I was surprised—pleasantly so—that Ram didn’t revel in his victory over the rakshasas. Then he went on with his story.

  ‘I was lost even further to my mother when I was sent to Sage Vasishta’s ashram for my education. On my brief visits home, there were many demands on my time: attending events in the raj sabha so that the courtiers would get used to me sitting beside my father, offering my opinions on matters of state; riding in processions across Ayodhya, tossing coins at cheering citizens; and of course, spending time with my Father-King, who insisted that I eat and sleep in his royal quarters. I crept away to my mother whenever I could so she could cook me a favourite dish or two. But all too soon it would be time for me to go back to the ashram. My mother never complained, but I felt the heavy weight of her sadness.’

  He sighed. ‘Some people are born unlucky, possessing so much externally, yet destitute within. My mother is one of them. Thank you for listening. I’ve never shared this with anyone, not even Lakshman.’

  I appreciated his trust, but I wasn’t willing to let go of the story. ‘Now that you’re a man, can’t you do something for your mother?’

  ‘When I vowed to marry only one woman, I did it as much for her as for you. To tell her that I felt her pain and would never make another woman suffer as she did. I hope she understood. What else can I do without going against my father?’ He shook his head. ‘But enough of old sorrows. It’s late. We must rest now.’

  He pressed his face into the hollow of my shoulder and fell asleep in the sudden way he had. He never wasted time, Ram, especially on things he believed he couldn’t change. But I lay awake for a long time, holding him, listening to him breathe. I didn’t believe in giving in to fate, not without a good fight. Kaushalya had done everything possible, in her sweet and simple way, to make me feel at home in Ayodhya. In return, I was determined to do something to make her life better.

  Eight

  MY PLAN WAS SIMPLE, ONCE I convinced Ram to support me. He told Dasharath that, newly married as I was, I wanted my husband to have his evening meal with me in our chambers. I was homesick and lonely and needed his company. My father-in-law may not have been pleased, but how could he say no to such a request, especially when presented by his favourite son?

  ‘Sita would love for you to join us, Father,’ Ram added. ‘She admires you greatly and longs to hear your words of wisdom. And she wants to cook for you with her own hands.’

  At first Dasharath grumbled, pointing out that he had a weak stomach and that only his chief cook knew what agreed with him. But when I offered to let his cook instruct me, he agreed grudgingly. To his surprise, he enjoyed the evenings more than he’d expected to. I stayed in the background, allowing Ram to devote his full attention to him. I cooked the dishes that Dasharath wanted, introducing only one or two Mithilan delicacies. He tried them gingerly and found that he liked them. Over several nights, he grew comfortable enough with me to loosen his waistband after his meal and belch with loud satisfaction. He began to stay on after dinner, telling me stories of his battle exploits. The stories were repetitive and often bloody, but I did my best to look interested and asked questions. Apparently they were the right questions, for Dasharath told Ram approvingly that I had a warrior’s brain.

  The groundwork was laid. It was time to move forward.

  For the occasion of Gauri Vrata, a festival particularly auspicious for couples, I asked my father-in-law if Mother Kaushalya could join us. He replied with a cautious yes. Next, Ram and I schooled Kaushalya. Dress with simple elegance. Be pleasant and cheerful and stay in the background. No intense conversations. No accusations or weeping. Cook a dish—just one—which you know he likes, but say nothing about it. Above all, enjoy the moment and have no expectations.

  Kaushalya understood that it was her one opportunity. She did as we instructed. The evening turned out so well that at the end of it, Dasharath suggested that we do this again.

  And so it was that Kaushalya came to dine with us each week, getting more of a chance to spend time with her beloved husband and son than she’d ever had. I was happy to let her instruct my maids or cook some of the dishes. Ram made sure the conversation remained pleasant. At dinner, I dismissed the servants and waited on them myself, so that Dasharath could relax without fear that his words or actions would be carried to the other queens. Slowly he began to talk more to Kaushalya and offer her compliments, mostly on her cooking, but sometimes on her appearance as well.

  Happiness transformed Kaushalya. She seemed to grow younger and blushed prettily when the king’s eyes rested on her. And although usually at the end of the evening Dasharath went to Kaikeyi’s chambers, he now sometimes offered to stay with Kaushalya for the night.

  One evening, after his parents had left together, chatting amicably, Ram held me close and kissed me. ‘You’re a miracle worker,’ he said. ‘I’d never have believed this could happen.’

  ‘I couldn’t have done it without your help,’ I said, kissing him back. ‘We’re partners.’

  ‘Partners for life—I’m certainly thankful for that. And of your kindness towards my mother. You didn’t have to do this!’

/>   ‘Well, I do owe her something. After all, isn’t she responsible for the fact that I have a wonderful—and most attractive—husband?’ And holding him by the hand, I laughingly pulled Ram to our bedroom and to another exciting night of discoveries.

  This incident taught me that the more love we distribute, the more it grows, coming back to us from unexpected sources. And its corollary: when we demand love, believing it to be our right, it shrivels, leaving only resentment behind.

  I TRIED TO DOWNPLAY our evening meals with Dasharath, but in this palace, rumours travelled like spores borne by summer winds, taking root everywhere. It didn’t help that Kaushalya went around dressed in her best saris, looking radiant. Following our instructions, she didn’t say anything to people who asked why she was so happy, but her smiling silence only gave rise to more speculation. It didn’t help, either, that everyone seemed to know where the king slept each night.

  Urmila, always good at keeping up with gossip, came over to my chambers, full of excitement. ‘People are saying it’s a miracle. Dasharath and Kaushalya haven’t been on such good terms since they were newly married. They’re whispering that you must have put some kind of magical Mithilan herb in the king’s food, because everyone knows how good you are with such things!’

  I grimaced. I’d been giving some simple herbal remedies to my maids. In their enthusiastic gratitude, they must have spread the word.

  ‘In fact,’ Urmila continued, ‘Mother Sumitra’s been badgering me to get her some of this magical substance!’

  We were sitting on the balcony attached to my chambers. It was a large and spacious balcony that I was thankful for, as Dasharath’s palace, built more for fortification than elegance, possessed few balconies. Knowing of my love for the outdoors, Ram had spoken to the appropriate officials and moved us to these chambers from the overly grand ones originally assigned to us. His efforts made me appreciate the balcony further. I filled it with plants and trees that I’d loved in Mithila as well as some of Ram’s favourites—for each day I was learning more of what he liked—including a blue lotus that I grew in a stone trough. Everything had blossomed beyond my expectations. Sometimes I sat here alone, listening to the leaves rustle, and imagined I was in a forest. At the end of the day, Ram would join me, and together we’d watch the stars and breathe in the gentle fragrance of the night-blooming harshringar flower. He often told me that this was the most peaceful place in the entire palace.

  ‘Sorry, all I have are these pakoras,’ I said, handing Urmila a platter. ‘They do have jeera and ajwain in them, along with ginger and fresh fennel from my terrace garden, so they might help Mother Sumitra’s digestion. And if our stomachs are happy and healthy, the rest of us immediately feels a lot better.’

  ‘Well, then, I could do with some of these pakoras myself,’ Urmila said, and a shadow fell on her usually cheerful face. ‘You’re so lucky. Your mother-in-law lets you do whatever you want—plus you have your own quarters.’

  She stopped because she wasn’t a complainer, and didn’t have a single jealous bone in her body, but I felt guilty. I did have my own chambers, where I was mistress, and my own servants. Here, Urmila and my cousins could visit me whenever they wanted. We’d order my cook to make our favourite childhood dishes. We’d confide or complain without fear of eavesdroppers, make silly girlish jokes, or even weep because we missed our parents. And at night, when Ram and I were in bed, I could let myself dive into the current of our passion without worrying about anyone hearing our love cries. Perhaps that was one reason our relationship was doing so well.

  Bharat, too, had his own quarters. Kaikeyi, who—Urmila said—liked her privacy, had made sure of that. Bharat’s chambers were spacious, and he asked Shatrughna to join him. Shatrughna agreed with such alacrity that Sumitra didn’t have a chance to stop him. That worked out very well for Mandavi and Shrutakirti, who helped each other manage their little household without outside interference. Being together kept them from feeling lonely too. But it had made Sumitra more possessive of Lakshman and more determined to control Urmila.

  ‘I don’t mind living with Mother Sumitra,’ Urmila said. ‘But she wants to be with Lakshman all the time! She’s waiting at the door when he gets back from helping Ram with governing problems. She’s the one asking if he’s tired and offering him a cool drink. She’s the one serving him food, and asking if he wants second helpings. She sits with us after dinner, asking Lakshman about his day until we go to bed. It annoys him, too, I think. But I’m not sure. He’s too filial to be rude to her, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

  ‘By bedtime he’s so tired that he’s yawning non-stop. How can anyone be romantic then, or even have a conversation that means anything? I usually just rub his back and in a couple of minutes he falls asleep. Why, Didi, I don’t know Lakshman any better now than I did on the day of my wedding. I certainly didn’t expect marriage to be like this!’

  Urmila was on the verge of tears. I thought long and hard, then said, ‘You’ll have to talk to Mother Sumitra.’

  ‘She’ll never listen to me!’

  ‘What if you tell her that Ram and I are considering having Lakshman and you move into our quarters—like Bharat did with Shatrughna. But you’re willing to stay on with her because you’re fond of her—if some changes are made.’

  Urmila made a face, but I was pleased to see that she was listening carefully.

  I continued. ‘If Lakshman and you can have three nights a week on your own, you’ll stay.’ Urmila’s eyes shone with mischief. ‘Maybe I’ll add that otherwise she’ll never get any grandchildren!’

  Before I could answer, my maid entered apologetically.

  ‘Sorry to disturb, princess, but I was told to hand this to you at once.’ She extended a platter with a scroll on it. Surprised, I picked it up. The expensive cream-coloured parchment was heavy and soft to the touch and sealed with a red seal I didn’t recognize, a tiger in mid-spring. I broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. It was an invitation from Kaikeyi to visit her in her chambers this afternoon.

  It was the first time she’d contacted me, although I’d been in Ayodhya for months now.

  Urmila, reading over my shoulder, sucked in her breath apprehensively. ‘I bet she isn’t happy about all the time our father-in-law is spending in your quarters—and with Mother Kaushalya instead of with her. I think she’s heard the rumours, too, and wants to figure out what you’ve been up to. Careful, Didi, I’ ve heard some scary stories about Queen Kaikeyi.’

  I made a secret gesture to her to say no more. Although my maid seemed trustworthy, I sensed that in Ayodhya it was best to be cautious in front of the servants.

  ‘The queen’s messenger is waiting for your answer,’ the maid said.

  I wrote back that I’d be honoured to visit Kaikeyi. It wasn’t as though I had a choice. Disobeying her summons would be a clear insult, and I didn’t want to antagonize Kaikeyi any more than I already had on my first night. My handwriting wasn’t as neat as usual—I think my hand shook a little, partly with excitement but mostly with nervousness. I wished I could have asked Ram for advice—after all, he’d known her all his life, and they seemed to get along well. But he’d been sent to oversee the repair of a fortress. I wondered if that was the reason Kaikeyi had chosen to meet me today, when I was unprepared and alone and easy to intimidate.

  Well, I thought, taking a deep breath and sitting up tall, I might be alone and unprepared, but she wasn’t going to intimidate me, at least not easily.

  Nine

  KAIKEYI’S CHAMBERS WERE FAR MORE elegant and opulent than those of the other queens, and filled with unique and expensive art objects fashioned in a manner very unlike the craftsmanship of Ayodhya, which tended to be solid and heavy. I was shown into a large room where, to my surprise, I found her practising sword-fighting with another woman—her trainer, I guessed. Both women had their saris tied tightly and tucked between their legs in a way that allowed fluid movement. Sweat beaded Kaikeyi’s face like p
earl drops. Slim and strong and nimble, she moved like a much younger woman. Something about her stance reminded me of the symbol on her seal, which she’d clearly chosen with care: the leaping tiger. Here was a woman who knew her power and allure and was willing to make the most of them. I could see why Dasharath was so attracted to her.

  Kaikeyi wiped her face in a leisurely manner and nodded to her trainer to leave. It struck me that she’d planned the entire scene carefully. This is how she’d wanted me to see her: thrusting and parrying, dangerous and magnetic at once, her teeth bared in fierce jubilation. An opponent to beware of.

  ‘So, princess,’ she said, even before I could offer her my greetings, ‘I was waiting for you to invite me to your chambers so I could come and bless you with a wedding gift. But you never did.’

  I was taken aback by this sudden attack. Don’t get flustered, I told myself. That’s what she wants. I took my time and offered a proper obeisance to her, and then I said, ‘Forgive me. I am not aware of the Ayodhyan customs. In Mithila it would be considered presumptuous of me to invite an elder before she has given me a sign. But please know that you are welcome in my humble rooms any time.’

  I could see that Kaikeyi hadn’t expected such an answer—polite yet confident—from me. There was a glint of respect in her eyes, but also a hardening of the jaw. Another test was coming.

  ‘I hear you’re a renowned herbalist—and perhaps a magician, too, one whose expertise is love-potions. Certainly it seems that you’ve made our king fall in love—finally—with his oldest wife,’ Kaikeyi said, placing a slight emphasis on oldest.

  I could feel anger rising in me, for Kaushalya’s sake more than my own, but I knew that was what the queen was counting on: that I’d get upset and flustered and say something stupid. Instead I replied, in my most innocent voice, ‘My skills are nothing compared to yours, Kaikeyi-Ma. Why, you’ve kept my father-in-law enchanted for many decades now.’ On the surface, the words were a compliment, but they could be interpreted otherwise too.