The Forest of Enchantments Read online

  Kaikeyi stared at me, eyes narrowed. Then she waved her hand, dismissing the topic. ‘Since you’re so skilled in healing, I want you to tell me what I should do with my maid, who has been sick for four days now with burning pains in the stomach and a bloody flux.’

  Another test! I tried to deflect it with politeness. ‘Please don’t embarrass me, Kaikeyi-Ma. You are a renowned healer. Even in Mithila people speak with awe about how you saved King Dasharath’s life when he was sorely wounded in war. Whatever solution I come up with, surely you’ll have tried it already.’

  When she insisted, I said, ‘Flux may occur due to imbalances of different kinds, for which the remedies would be different. Perhaps I could see the girl?’

  Kaikeyi hesitated for the tiniest moment, but that was enough. I knew there wasn’t really a sick girl.

  ‘She’s too sick to stand,’ Kaikeyi said. ‘Tell me, and I’ll try your remedy on her.’

  ‘Since this is the height of summer, I’d advise something to cool her system,’ I said. ‘Ghee, though usually beneficial, is too heavy at this time. Perhaps a glass of light buttermilk, with a little cumin and fresh crushed mint. Sweet honey, mixed with the prabal pishti herb, might help, too. But mostly I would make sure she isn’t stressed, with no one angry with her for being ill.’

  Kaileyi threw me a sharp glance to ascertain if this last bit was a dig at her, but I went on innocently. ‘Stress can inflame the ulcer further, as you know, and cause more bleeding. I’ll be happy to send you some prabal pishti from my balcony-garden—’

  Kaikeyi cut me off. ‘Not necessary.’

  I’d won again. I hid a smile and waited for whatever she had planned next.

  ‘Enough of useless talk!’ Kaikeyi said. ‘I hear you’ve been trained in weaponry. I’d like to invite you to a duel with swords, to see how well a Mithilan princess fights.’

  I stared at her in dismay. How did she know so much about me? And how was I going to get out of this one?

  Finally I said, ‘Your sources of information are truly thorough, great queen. So you must also know that I fight solely in self-defence. The only weapon I use is my own body, and I only use it when I’m in danger. Therefore, I beg you to excuse me.’

  But Kaikeyi had already called for the swords.

  Two swords, one with a golden hilt and one with a silver one, were brought to us by two women carrying a huge, heavy brass tray. Even in my nervousness, I noticed how unusually plain-faced they were—just like the woman who’d let me into Kaikeyi’s quarters.

  I filed that observation away and focussed on the swords. They looked sharp and dangerous and very long. Kaikeyi picked up the gold-hilted sword, hefted it, and looked impatiently at me. ‘Take up your weapon! Or shall I let it be known throughout the kingdom that Mithilan women are too cowardly to accept a challenge?’

  I sighed. She’d do it, too, I was sure. I had to uphold the honour my homeland.

  I tucked up my pleats between my legs and tied the sari end tightly around my waist, just as Kaikeyi had. ‘I’m doing this since you insist,’ I said. ‘But I’ll fight in my own way. If you draw blood, you win. And if I disarm you, I win.’

  ‘Very well,’ Kaikeyi said, but she was displeased. Even if she won, there wouldn’t be much to boast of if her opponent was unarmed.

  We circled each other, trying to judge each other’s skill and style. Kaikeyi was older, and she’d already practised today. Thus she might tire easier. But she was more experienced, and because of the sword, her reach was much longer than mine. I guessed she’d try to rush me early on. She wouldn’t wound me seriously, I was almost certain of that. But she wasn’t above giving me a nasty nick that might leave a scar. I’d annoyed her and won our verbal battles, and she was ready to right that score.

  Oh Goddess , I thought. Why do you send me this challenge, just when things are going smoothly and I’m beginning to think of Ayodhya as home ?

  The answer came to me in a flash so bright that it made me blink. Because this is part of the dark fate that is unfurling, unknown to you. It will prepare you a little for the many battles you must fight.

  Fight? Me? What kinds of battles?

  Kaikeyi must have seen that I was distracted. She thrust suddenly at my shoulder with her blade, and I had to jump back to avoid its sharp point. We circled each other some more, Kaikeyi switching the sword from her right hand to her left. She was ambidextrous. This would be an additional challenge. I moved light and fast, feinting this way and then that, trying to guess what she’d do. What her weakness might be. Her advantage was already clear: she wanted this fight, while I’d been pushed into it reluctantly.

  Kaikeyi moved like quicksilver, her eyes focussed unblinkingly on mine, then pushed forward. I understood her strategy: she wanted to force me against a wall or into a corner. And here was her possible weakness: she’d try to do this fast—she knew I had more stamina than she did. Perhaps in her hurry, she’d make a mistake.

  As I’d guessed, Kaikeyi pressed her advantage, slashing the air. Her sword-thrusts were different each time, but always vicious. Sometimes the blade flew straight at me, and sometimes it carved the air in a semi-circle or a figure eight. A couple of times, I tried to get behind her so that I could get her in a choke-hold. But each time she guessed my manoeuvre and blocked me with her sword. And always, she moved forward, pushing me inevitably toward the wall, moving her sword hand rapidly to keep me from slipping out from under her guard. One part of me said, Let her have her victory. What did it matter? I could always explain to Ram later that I’d allowed her to win. He’d understand and possibly applaud it as the more politic decision, for it would make Kaikeyi happy and she would leave me—and by extension, Ram and his mother—in peace.

  Kaikeyi thrust at me again, teeth parted in a predatory grin. She’d surmised that I was intimidated by her expertise and that it would be a quick, easy win.

  No! I thought. I won’t give up. For the sake of my mother, who had pushed against tradition to make sure I learned to defend myself. For the sake of Kaushalya, who would have to bear Kaikeyi’s endless taunts about her weak and cowardly daughter-in-law. And for the sake of Mithila, my motherland, to prove that its women, though normally peace-loving, were dangerous when provoked.

  The wall was almost touching my shoulder-blades now. My only chance to turn things around lay in trying something risky and unexpected. Just as Kaikeyi pulled back her sword so she could thrust again, skewering me against the wall this time, I leaped high in the air with a yell and kicked, aiming for her sword hand. Kaikeyi’s mouth fell open in shock as her blade went flying. She doubled up, clutching her wrist. I felt bad about having hurt her, but I couldn’t waste time. I grabbed her from behind in a strangle-hold and kept my arm tight around her neck until she raised her hands to signify that she’d given up.

  I’d expected Kaikeyi to be furious, perhaps to curse me out or order me to leave. But the first thing she did once she recovered her breath was burst out in a rueful, wheezing laugh. ‘Bested by a slip of a girl!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I guess I deserve it, for underestimating you. Oh, I’ll never live it down!’

  ‘No one needs to know,’ I said.

  She looked at me, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  ‘I’m certainly not planning to tell anyone,’ I said, ‘except Ram, because I tell him everything. But I’ll swear him to secrecy. I hope I haven’t hurt your hand too much. I can bring you a poultice made from turmeric and guggul—’

  This time she looked at me as though she were re-evaluating me. Was there a tinge of admiration in her glance?

  ‘You’re not like what I was told,’ she said. Before I could ask who her informant had been, she clapped her hands and several attendants—all of them plain-faced, if not downright ugly—rushed up with bowls of hot and cold water scented with jasmine petals, thick, soft cloths to wipe our faces, and sandalwood to rub onto our bodies.

  When we had cleansed ourselves, another maid brought a gold platter. From
it Kaikeyi lifted up a beautiful pearl and gold necklace of unusual workmanship.

  ‘From Kekaya, my father’s kingdom,’ she said, with a sigh that was proud but unexpectedly melancholy. ‘How I miss it, though it’s been decades since I left.’

  ‘Do you never visit?’ I ventured to ask.

  ‘No. King Dasharath refuses to let me go. I guess it’s the price I pay to keep him thinking that I’m indispensable. Fortunately, he doesn’t mind if I send Bharat, so I do that often. Bharat’s uncles and grandfather are very fond of him, and they always invite Shatrughna to go along too. The boys have a great time, and through them we’re able to exchange news and gifts. Such is the life of a queen, filled with compromise. You’ll know it soon enough.’ She proceeded to clasp the necklace around my neck, where it hung heavy and regal, and complimented me on how good it looked on me.

  The rest of my visit we ate—the attendants brought us dish upon dish of Kekayan delicacies, which I had to admit were very good—and chatted. We spoke of my upbringing in Mithila and hers in Kekaya, and about how life in Ayodhya was different. She told me about the women in the palace, whom to avoid because they were fools, and whom to watch out for because they were dangerous. Against my expectations, I found I was enjoying myself. Kaikeyi had a sharp sense of humour, which she often turned on herself, sharing funny stories about her follies when she was a new bride. She delighted in divulging embarrassing facts about people, and such was her wit that she made me feel that she and I were allied, in our superior intelligence and charisma, against them all. I could well understand why Dasharath was still captivated by her. Once in a while, though, she’d throw me a sudden, pointed question—about my relationship with Kaushalya, or what exactly we talked about when Dasharath came for dinner, or what Ram thought he might do differently when he became king, and whether he ever mentioned Bharat in his plans. I had to remain vigilant so that I could provide an answer without telling her things that I might later regret.

  At the end of my visit, Kaikeyi walked with me to the doorway of her chambers, flashed me a singularly sweet smile, and gave me a hug. I smiled back. Even though I guessed she’s set out to deliberately charm me, I found that I liked her.

  ‘Finally, there’s another woman in the royal family with brains and guts—and good looks, too,’ she said as we parted. ‘I look forward to many conversations with you. Tell Ram he’s made a great choice. You’ll be the perfect helpmate for him—and a perfect queen.’

  I basked in the glory of that statement all the way back to my chambers.

  WHEN R AM RETURNED TO Ayodhya, I told him about the visit. He was immediately wary, and when I described the sparring, he grew downright angry. He examined my foot to make sure I hadn’t hurt it, running his long, sensitive fingers over my arch, his lips tight with displeasure. I let him fuss over me for a while because I loved that, but finally I reassured him that I was fine.

  ‘I’m glad it ended well,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what Kaikeyi-Ma was thinking, to do something dangerous like that! She’s a difficult person, hard to understand. She’s always been nice to me, though she’s caused my mother plenty of grief. She’s very smart, and knows it. Maybe that’s part of the reason she doesn’t get along with the other queens. She prefers to spend her time learning about what goes on in court. Father built a special covered balcony for her so she can attend sabha sessions without being seen. And often, later, she gives him good advice about what needs to be done, and who to watch out for.

  ‘In any case, it’s best if you stay away from her.’

  I agreed. I’d enjoyed my visit with Kaikeyi, but Ram was right. Kaikeyi oozed trouble from every pore of her beautiful, carefully maintained body—and I didn’t believe in going looking for trouble. If the inner voice—the voice of the goddess?—that I’d heard just before our duel was to be trusted, trouble was going to find me soon enough.

  That night, when we were almost asleep, I remembered something else and tapped Ram’s shoulder until he opened his eyes. ‘All Kaikeyi’s maids are so ugly. Why do you think that is? I know she can afford to hire prettier girls. Is it because she always wants to be the most beautiful one in the room?’

  Ram laughed, but then he said, ‘No. Kaikeyi’s too confident about her looks and her hold over my father to care about such things. I think it’s because of Manthara, her nursemaid, who came to Ayodhya with her when she got married. Did you know that Kaikeyi’s mother died giving birth to her? Manthara was the one who brought her up. The two of them are very close, and where Kaikeyi is concerned, Manthara’s as fierce as a lioness with a newborn cub. Manthara’s a hunchback, so Kaikeyi makes sure not to hire anyone whose looks might make Manthara feel worse.’

  ‘I don’t remember seeing a hunchback,’ I said.

  ‘You wouldn’t have seen her,’ Ram said. ‘She’s too self-conscious to appear before newcomers. But rest assured that she saw you—probably from a peephole somewhere—and gave Kaikeyi a full report later of what she thought. And what she said will affect how Kaikeyi behaves towards you the next time you see her.’

  I shivered, uneasy at the thought of being examined secretively. After a while I said, ‘Manthara must really like you then, because Kaikeyi’s always nice to you.’

  But Ram had fallen asleep and didn’t answer me.

  KAUSHALYA AND I WERE on our way to the royal temple, an ornate marble affair officiated over noisily by dozens of priests. Ram’s birthday was approaching, and she wanted to arrange a big prayer ceremony for him. We made our way through the courtyard, where rows of saplings were arranged in blocks according to colour and tied to stakes so they stood severely at attention. I sent forth some healing energy to them and felt their gratitude.

  The palace gardens could do with some naturalness and spontaneity—and with a little strategizing, I could get it done. The next time he visited us for dinner, I’d ask Dasharath if I might add a few of my favourite plants to the landscaping. I felt confident that he’d agree. He wasn’t particularly interested in gardens. What little free time he had, he preferred to spend indoors, in the sumptuous palace halls cooled by moistened rush-curtains and intricate air-tunnels.

  Additionally, I was sure he’d say yes because, in the last few months, I’d learned the right way to approach him so that he didn’t feel his authority was being threatened. As a result, he’d grown quite fond of me and often indulged me like a daughter. At the dinners in my chambers, he joked with me the way he didn’t with anyone else, not even Ram. He brought me little gifts—sweetmeats, a songbird, a pair of earrings. Sometimes, after we’d eaten, he’d take off his heavy crown and ask me to massage his head. He was going bald, like my father, and as I worked warm almond oil into his scalp, I’d feel a surge of tenderness.

  Walking with Kaushalya, I spent a few happy moments daydreaming. I’d have creepers growing over the walls, white madhavi lata or showers of pink coral vine to soften the forbidding lines of hewn stone. A spring could wind in-between the trees, splashing over stones. A jasmine bower with seats in a corner would provide privacy. And in little nooks here and there, I’d plant sweet-smelling Mithilan herbs, of which I was running out.

  I was pulled out of my happy imaginings by a movement to my left, on the upper level of the palace. Behind the friezed passage that ran along the length of the structure, a shape scurried along, clearly following us. It was the size of a child, but it moved with a lurching, uneven gait. Was it an animal? Perhaps one of the queens had a pet ape? Then I knew.

  I tugged surreptitiously at Kaushalya’s arm.

  ‘Ah, you’ve noticed Manthara the hunchback,’ Kaushalya said, with a grimace of distaste. ‘Our resident spy. She came with Kaikeyi from her father’s house as part of her bride-gift. I don’t understand what Kaikeyi’s father was thinking! Manthara isn’t of much use—why, she can’t even stand up straight. She’s very devoted to Kaikeyi, of course. But I don’t think she’s a good influence on her. She tends to encourage Kaikeyi’s tantrums.’

  Ah.
Now I understood why Dasharath was so insistent that we not bring our own servants from our parents’ home.

  ‘Between you and me,’ Kaushalya continued, her voice dipping low, ‘King Dasharath would love to get rid of Manthara. But the last time he suggested that she be sent back to her village—with many gifts, of course—to enjoy her old age at leisure, Kaikeyi locked herself up in her anger chamber. Did you know she has an anger chamber in her quarters? I don’t understand how Dasharath allows it. He certainly wouldn’t have let me have one—not that I’ve ever wanted something so barbaric and unwomanly. Anyway, Kaikeyi threw off all her ornaments and silks and refused to eat or drink anything until he apologized and promised that Manthara could stay in Ayodhya as long as she wanted.’ There was outrage in Kaushalya’s voice—that a mere wife should be able to do this. But underneath that I heard a trace of longing.

  So my mighty father-in-law, respected and feared by all the kingdoms that surrounded Ayodhya, had bent to Kaikeyi’s will! Was it just her charm, or was there another reason she had so much power over him? I was fascinated, too, by the concept of an anger chamber. I imagined the beautiful queen pacing this room like a tigress, feeding her own fury, waiting to pounce on the hapless Dasharath, who she knew wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

  In Mithila, on the rare occasions when my mother was angry with my father—mostly because people took advantage of his goodness—she told him so. Sometimes she raised her voice,. Once or twice, she wept. But usually they went to their rooms and worked out their problems privately and without undue drama, and afterwards they seemed closer than ever. Growing up, I’d believed these peaceful interchanges were the norm. Now I knew how lucky both my parents were, and how special their relationship.

  Love was full of contradictions. Sometimes the person you loved weakened you and sometimes he or she made you a stronger person. But under exactly what conditions did these very different changes occur?