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Sumantra took Chitra under his wing, and Dasharatha returned to his chambers. New guards had relieved the old ones. Dasharatha nodded at them and stepped into the silence of his private chambers. Kaikeyi’s soft breaths created a soft rhythmic sound, and yet Dasharatha could not sit down or return to sleep.
The voice in his mind was cold and cruel. Dasharatha wanted to turn away but couldn’t.
He looked at Kaikeyi as the voice demanded: If she had been one of the abducted women ravaged by Ravana, what would you do?
He wanted to insist that he would be different from Rani’s family. He loved Kaikeyi so passionately that his heart ached. But he would not be allowed to keep a woman touched by another man as his queen. What did this say about him as king? And about his people?
With these thoughts, Dasharatha could not sleep.
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chapter 12
Holy Dancing Girls
s the sun brought the new day, Dasharatha sought refuge at the golden altars.
AKausalya was there, of course, looking as tired as he felt. Together but separate, they prayed their own prayers. Dasharatha’s eyes wandered often to the deity of Lakshmi, the goddess of abundance. If she were here, what would she do?
His eyes rested on the two dancers worshipping the golden altars through soft, graceful movements. One of them sang a hymn in praise of Lakshmi’s benevolence.
The other girl used intricate gestures of hand and face to bring the prayer to life.
Dasharatha felt as if he was seeing Lakshmi herself dance through the girl. The girl tapped her feet in rhythmical ways, creating pleasant patterns punctuated by sudden turns and dynamic sweeps of her arms from one corner to the other. When the dancing girls finished their prayers, they prostrated themselves before Lakshmi’s altar and moved on to the next one. Then it all began again, a soft prayer building into a crescendo of movement. It had been a long time since Dasharatha had seen something so deeply moving and resonant with mystic wonder. And a voice within finally whispered, Ask your queens.
Dasharatha searched for Kausalya with his eyes. The sun was brightening the morning. Kausalya’s eyes were also trained on the dancing girls, following every movement, a rapt trancelike look in her eyes. When again the dance
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came to completion and the girls moved to the next altar, Dasharatha sought Kausalya’s attention. King and queen looked at each other with bloodshot eyes. It would be a long day ahead.
“Will you and the other queens join the council today?” he asked. “I would hear your opinion on this delicate matter.”
Kausalya inclined her head. “It would be my honor. We will be there. Though I can only speak for myself and Sumitra.”
Kaikeyi’s name lay unspoken in the air, as potent as her presence.
“Will she not answer to your summons?”
Kausalya did not smile. “Does she answer yours?”
“You think I spoil her? That I allow her too much free rein?”
“I’m afraid you would not like my frank opinion in this matter.”
The serene mood evaporated. Kausalya added, “I welcome the opportunity to speak with you on this. I only want to make sure that you are receptive.”
“It would serve us better to concentrate on the matter at hand first,” he concluded.
Kausalya was right; he would not be schooled on how to treat Kaikeyi. “I will make sure that Kaikeyi is present. As a trained warrior, she will have a different perspective from you and Sumitra.”
Kausalya’s lips moved, but no words came out.
“Thank you,” Dasharatha said, “for coming so quickly in the night. You knew just what to do with Rani. I’m so grateful to have you.”
“Poor, poor girl,” Kausalya said, and the tension between them was diffused. “I will go to see Rani now. I have sent for the physician to examine her, and I think it’s best if I personally attend. As you noticed, she is very distrustful of all males.”
“Well done. I will expect you and Sumitra in the private council room at high noon.”
“As you wish.”
Kausalya moved away, taking the scent of camphor and incense with her. Dasharatha’s eyes lingered on her, for there was an edge of coolness in her manner toward him. The queen interrupted the dancing girls and stood in close conversation with them. The young faces grew serious as the queen talked. When they nodded to each other and to her, Kausalya touched one of their cheeks and turned away. Though Kausalya’s arms swayed by her sides as she walked, her hands mirrored the gestures of the dancing girls.
Dasharatha watched as the girls resumed their dancing prayer. Then he sent a messenger to inform Kaikeyi of the day’s agenda. He himself had just enough time to go to the River Sarayu and refresh his mind before the meeting. At high noon, the king, his eight ministers, and the three queens gathered. It was not unheard of to seek the counsel of the queens when it came to the matter of women, though it was understood that the king’s council would make the final decision. The ministers sat in their usual circle with the king at their helm. Kausalya and Sumitra arrived together, dressed in subdued silks that flowed with their steps. Kaikeyi arrived late, rushing in with pink cheeks, her crimson silks, and jewels sparkling with each step.
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Dasharatha felt distant from his queens in this formal setting. He hoped it was not a mistake to include them. Beginning the meeting, Dasharatha called on Sumantra to bring in Chitra. Firsthand accounts were always the most powerful. Dasharatha wanted to spare the girl, so Chitra spoke for her. As Chitra spoke, Kausalya covered her mouth and looked away. Su mitra’s eyes were wide and unblinking. Kaikeyi lifted her chin and sat straighter in her seat.
“Thank you, Chitra,” Dasharatha said as the scout was dismissed. “Now, if I may sum-marize the events and the dilemma that stands before us. We are all well aware of the recent havoc caused by the king of blood-drinkers. Now one of them has returned to us. From her testimony, we know that she will be the first of many to return. We also know that she was rejected by her family, and that brings us to the reason for our meeting today. I would like to hear what each of you consider the best path for us to take.”
“You have played your cards well, Great King,” Siddhartha, the old one, said. “With the girl-child in mind, you hope to sway us to implement new laws. Only a heartless person would hold forth the age-old adages. And yet I must warn you that within these sayings, we discover the very truths of the people we serve. We are not alone in deciding the fates of these women. Society plays by its own rules.”
“But are we not the lawmakers and the enforcers of all that society holds dear?” Sumantra asked. “We are here to examine and perhaps dismiss ways of thinking that don’t protect the weak and innocent.”
Kaikeyi fidgeted, her ornaments tinkling. Dasharatha saw a look of disgust pass her face.
“I would be amiss if I did not agree with Siddhartha,” another minister said. “A woman lives in the care of her father, then husband, then son. The laws are clear on this. Once she crosses into the threshold of another man’s house, she has lost her native belonging. That is what has happened to these women. Their families are not obliged to take them in.”
“No man wants to raise his neighbor’s children.”
Kaikeyi spoke up. Her voice was rather curt, considering the esteemed council she was addressing. “Every woman should be trained in the use of weapons. That way she will defend herself and escape before any harm is done to her. Or else she will inflict what harm she can and die a brave warrior. We would then never have to face this unpalatable discussion. There would be no such thing as a ravaged woman returning to face society’s unforgiving face.”
Dasharatha was proud of her words. This was what they were here to discuss, after all.
Kausalya, however, disagreed. “Not every woman can be like you, respected Queen. It takes a great amount of energy and resources to train a warrior, and not everyone is naturally inclined to such work. I—”
Kaikeyi snorted, and then said, “Any child can learn how to kill with a simple knife.”
Dasharatha held up a hand. He would not allow interruptions. He turned back to Kausalya.
She studiously avoided Kaikeyi’s side of the room as she said, “It is not fair to demand that a woman face death because a man, out of his own volition, has violated the sacred 112
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laws. We are not speaking of situations when a woman consents and agrees to transgress the laws. We are speaking of circumstances when a pure and innocent woman, or even girl, is violated.”
“I need not remind you, Queen Kausalya, what our laws are,” Siddhartha said. “But I will do so only to remind us all that our justice system is fair. We are not lenient whatsoever toward men who violate women. A man does so at the cost of his life.”
“Thank you, Minister,” Kausalya returned. “But we are speaking of a situation where the criminal cannot be apprehended or punished. And it seems to me that the only ones suffering the consequences here are the women themselves. I do not agree that it is glorious for a woman to choose death in this case.”
“There must be a way to purify these woman,” Sumitra offered softly, speaking for the first time. “Holy One, possessor of ancient wisdom, is there no such ritual?”
All eyes turned toward Vasishta, who had not yet spoken and had observed in silence, as was his habit.
“I can think of a number of cleansing rituals,” Vasishta answered. “But few of them would clean the minds of the suspicious. That is really what we are speaking of here, is it not?”
Everyone agreed.
“Can society accommodate and welcome back these women into its embrace?” Vasishta paused, looking to see if anyone would offer an opinion. “I’m afraid that mankind throughout history has not been lenient in these situations. Questions of purity, lineage, and off-spring have remained foremost. It is known that a man, for the sake of his momentary pleasure, will cast a woman into a lifetime of darkness and shame.”
Siddhartha spoke again. “Let me again be so bold as to remind us that marriage by aggressive abduction was sanctioned by Manu, the First Man.”
Kausalya stood up. “I will welcome each of these ladies into service, as I have already promised to do with Rani. With your permission, I want to insist that we find a place in society where they are welcome. We must apprehend these women and offer them a home and an occupation before they succumb to society’s pressure and end their own lives, the only recourse open to them aside from a life of shame.”
“Who would truly take these women in?” Sumantra asked.
“When I oversee the dress and decoration of the dancing girls,” Kausalya said, “I have learned much. They do not marry, at least not in the sense we think of it. They have many husbands. Their society does not have fathers, and so they do not insist on heritage and family names, the way we do. The mother claims the children as her own and raises them in service to the gods and the arts. Just this morning I was moved to tears by two of the dancing girls. No one can persuade me to believe that they are impure.”
“You would make them courtesans?” Kaikeyi’s tone was disparaging.
“If that saves them from suicide, yes! But not all the dancing girls are courtesans. Many of them are temple servants, dancing for the lords. Either way, they do not have that word courtesan in their language, for what they do, they do it for pleasure and their own reasons.
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Let us not forget that we welcome them into our most sacred place and ask of them to invoke the gods through their dance. These women are revered by us. That is what I hope for the innocent women who have been ravaged by Ravana.”
“Well said!” Sumantra exclaimed, instantly followed by words of praise from the rest of the ministers. Everyone was very pleased by Kausalya’s surprising solution.
Only Kaikeyi did not make a show of support. It was ungracious of her, but she also was not fluent in the ways an official meeting was conducted, as her speaking out of turn had showed.
Kausalya spoke again, this time with a light, joyful voice. She urged them to send letters to the matriarchs of the society where the dancing girls lived. Dasharatha agreed to grant them endowments of land and wealth in return for their act of kindness.
Dasharatha’s attention returned to his senior queen. He had needed a clear plan to enforce, and Kausalya’s was both kind and doable. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling, infused with vigor and purpose. She was beautiful.
Kaikeyi stood up and left, the only one to do so. Dasharatha’s eyes followed her as she left. For a moment, the king wondered what opinion the hunchback might have on the recent event. Most certainly it would be in opposition to Dasharatha’s opinion once Manthara knew it.
Soon after, the meeting was adjourned. In the days that followed, missives began flowing into Ayodhya, accounts matching Rani’s tale. Messengers were sent out to the fifty kings as well as to every known matriarch in the realm of the arts. The kingdoms that were disinclined to oblige were instructed to safely escort the women to Ayodhya, where many homes would stand open and waiting.
Dasharatha was gladdened to hear of several cases where the families celebrated the return of their loved ones. And in so doing, they uprooted their family, left their home, and disappeared. That was the only way to escape society. Those rare families would resurface in another town with another family name. Some might suspect the truth, but when such an effort had been made for the loved one, Dasharatha thought even the coldest heart would find compassion enough not to stir up the past. There was some redemption in human nature, after all.
Among the returned women, Dasharatha did not find Lochana’s wife. Still, he couldn’t restrain himself from penning a letter to Lochana. His missing wife was, after all, the only woman abducted from Ayodhya’s vicinity. Even when Anaranya fought with Ravana, the war had taken place beyond Ayodhya’s city limits. For all his power, Ravana had never set foot within Ayodhya, the city of Manu.
Dasharatha’s hand scribbled his well-chosen words across the parchment, writing that he hoped Lochana’s wife would soon return, as others had. He hoped his message would encourage Lochana to welcome his wife with open arms. If, by some obscure chance, Lochana chose not to welcome his wife, Dasharatha wanted her to be escorted to Ayodhya, where arrangements had been made for the abandoned victims.
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This was the letter the newly bereaved father and husband wrote in response: Great King,
My wife is dead. I worship her memory. If she returns, touched and tainted by that monster, she is not the same woman I married. I have given up all hope of ever reuniting with her. We, my family and I, have made this decision together. I have made plans to remarry and begin my life anew.
I thank you for your concern.
Your loyal subject,
Lochana
Dasharatha looked at the letter for a long time. He had hoped his people would be more generous. But Lochana’s letter was the voice of the people. Dasharatha was, in the end, the servant of his subjects. If he, the emperor of the world, was in the same situation, he would be forced to discard his own queen. A pure woman was hailed and worshipped. But even the shadow of a doubt was enough to cast away the purest of women. Perhaps the brave lady who had chosen to stay with Ravana had made the smartest choice of them all.
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chapter 13
A Queen to the Rescue
Kaikeyi had not liked Kausalya’s success at the council meeting. Kau salya’s notion of saving those poor girls was to create a new caste just for them.
Kaikeyi did not think for a moment that their identities would be obscure. Everyone would know who they were and treat them accordingly. If Manthara was shunned for having a twisted spine, Kaikeyi could hardly imagine that Ayodhyans would be forgiving toward blemished females. Such a life was hardly worth living. Even so, Manthara’s solution dismayed Kaikeyi: gifting poison to the girls in the guise of flowers. Manthara knew exactly where in the royal gardens such flowers grew. Kaikeyi told her to never speak of it again. Never mind that Kaikeyi had suggested something similar at the council, albeit choosing death with a knife in hand. Kausalya had openly dismissed Kaikeyi’s opinion, and the senior queen had clearly gained the upper hand; Kaikeyi was restless to the bone. She didn’t feel secure in her position, and when she examined why, it had to do with the fact that she had not produced a child for the king. Manthara muttered that when the king had three childless queens, the fault was hardly Kaikeyi’s. No one spoke of it openly, but Kaikeyi sensed that all her power rested in the latent notion of her bride-price. But she had no sons and therefore no power compared to Kausalya.
On top of this, Kaikeyi was surrounded by more guards than ever before
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because of all those abducted women. She was allowed to ride only once the sun’s rays shone brightly in the sky. When Kaikeyi had protested that she wasn’t just another weak female, Dasharatha insinuated that Kaikeyi was a foolish girl with no understanding of the threat around them. He wanted her to fear the darkness and not fight it.
Then something happened that jostled Kaikeyi awake from palace intrigues. Dasharatha was leaving Ayodhya. In another unexpected event, a blood-drinker called Shambara was raiding villages beyond Ayodhya’s borders, and Dasharatha was livid. Blood-drinkers were becoming too bold, sneaking out of their holes and making war on kings. The emperor was making ready to ride out and destroy the offender. Kaikeyi knew at once that she had to go with the king or stay behind in Ayodhya to wither and die.
She sought an audience with Dasharatha, approaching him formally, so that he would consider her merits as a warrior before anything else. She had eschewed her gown and jewelry for her fighting gear. If it came to it, she was prepared to prove her caliber on the training grounds. Dasharatha beheld her appearance and anticipated her request.
