Tmp, p.23
tmp, page 23
Angry murmurs rose in the room. Kaikeyi had become motionless. Manthara waited.
“Do you deny these charges?” Sumantra asked of Manthara.
“I do not,” she admitted.
The court fell silent. They had no doubt expected her to kick and scream and make a scene.
166
poisoned minds
“Because of your long-standing relationship with Queen Kaikeyi,” Sumantra said,
“the king has elected to spare your life, but you will leave Ayodhya immediately. You are free to return to Kekaya if they will have you. Henceforth you are not welcome within Ayodhya’s boundaries.”
“I do not deny your findings,” Manthara asserted loudly. It was now or never. Her voice was shrill, and she shrieked, “I charge you with faulty reasoning! My interest in the matter of poisons was selfish, yes, but not in the way you have deemed. I have served my queen since her birth, and I’m prepared to sacrifice my life for her safety. I made inquiries about Ayodhya’s practices only to protect Kaikeyi from death by poison. She too must wear the gems that expel poisons; she too must have the antidotes nearby; she too must have someone assigned to ingest her foods before she does. The other queens are jealous of Kaikeyi, and I have feared for her life every day since we arrived here.”
She spoke the rehearsed words. She was not stupid. She had known that the servants would never keep their mouths shut. Especially not to protect one like her, an outsider, on top of being a hunchback. “My only crime is being concerned for Kaikeyi’s safety and asking questions. That is all I’ve done! If these are crimes in Ayodhya, then and only then do I accept my guilt and its sentence!”
She glared at them, forcing them to rethink their hasty conclusions. She felt their shrewd eyes taking in every last bit of her hideous appearance. Had she been a beautiful woman like Kaikeyi, they would not have instantly concluded she was guilty! Manthara swallowed her bitterness. She had made a calculated ploy, and Ayodhya had played right along. It had not been without its delights. She had always liked asking uncomfortable questions. The horror had been so evident on the other servants’ faces. But she had committed no crime. If they sentenced her, it could only be out of spite. Even malice had to be proved!
Kaikeyi left her seat and sided with Manthara again. She, at least, had come to her final decision.
“Anything you say to Manthara henceforth may be addressed to me,” Kaikeyi said, and there was anger in her voice. “She is my servant, and what she does is on my orders.”
Sumantra turned his grave eyes to Kaikeyi. “Did you order her to make these inquiries?”
If anything gave Manthara delight that day, it was the king’s face then. He was clenching the sides of his throne, unable to hide his anxiety. What would the high and mighty king do if he found out his precious darling Kaikeyi was guilty?
Nothing. Nothing at all, Manthara thought with disdain.
“It is as Manthara says,” Kaikeyi said with a tremble in her voice. “We are newcomers here. Manthara’s primary purpose is to keep me safe.”
Though Kaikeyi had evaded the question, it was a beautiful woman’s appeal, and it worked. Manthara sensed a change in the air. They would not demand more from the beautiful queen. But Kaikeyi was not fully aware of her own appeal, for she continued, “If I wish someone dead, I bring out my sword and wage an honest fight! I do not fight in the shadows.”
The ministers and men of the court looked to the king. Of course he had been the one leading this charge, even if he pretended to rely on his ministers. Sumantra murmured 167
ch a p ter 18
something to the king. So did Siddhartha, the white-bearded minister with puffy eyes, who looked as if he was on his deathbed. By the looks of it, he was determined to take Manthara with him. Whatever the ministers said, the king was all too eager now to dismiss the charges, since Kaikeyi and Manthara stood united.
“I am not convinced of your servant’s innocence,” the king said, addressing himself to Kaikeyi, as she had requested. “But as she points out, she has, as of yet, taken no action. She claims to be innocent. Manthara is free to go, having found a way to explain her actions.
She will no longer have free access to Kausalya’s and Sumitra’s quarters. In addition, her behavior will be scrutinized and her motives reexamined in one month’s time. Be aware that she is under surveillance.” The king’s eyes turned to Manthara, who had already frozen to the spot.
As if she had not already been under surveillance. Did they really take her for a worthless fool? The suspicion that would follow her like a stink now was Ayodhya’s “justice.” Here they punished you for being honest and asking questions openly.
The final blow came when a servant produced something that belonged to Manthara.
Those animals had snooped around her room! They had found The Laws of Manu, her gift from Ashvapati. What else had they taken?
“We found this in your chamber,” the king explained, as if she was an idiot who did not recognize her own possessions. “Did you not know that this book is forbidden to women?”
Do you know that I am not woman? Manthara wanted to shout. She had never been with a man, never enjoyed the privileges of womanhood. I am a hunchback!
“I do not care to hear how you procured this forbidden work,” the stupid king said. If only he knew Kaikeyi’s father had given it to Manthara. “It does not belong to you any longer.”
Manthara had memorized most of it anyway. She knew far more than she cared to about cattle disputes and inheritance laws. Let them have their petty laws.
“You have demonstrated why this sacred text is forbidden to your kind,” the king droned on. “You simply use it to your own advantage alone.”
Manthara glanced at Kaikeyi. Did the queen realize that all of precious womankind had just been insulted? Kaikeyi’s face was clear, gazing up at that king whom she adored. No doubt they would use this conflict as fuel for their midnight passions. Manthara’s revulsion for them all knew no bounds. Her chin twitched; her mouth worked but made no sound.
The man who had recited the opening lines stood up: “May the lord in your heart guide your words and actions henceforth.”
The trial was over. Kaikeyi began to lead Manthara away. As soon as Manthara turned her back on the king, she started planning how she could inflict some actual pain on Ayodhya. Now she knew how easy they all were to manipulate. The day that Ayodhya fell apart, Manthara would stand aside and watch.
168
chapter 19
Three Queens
Spring again arrived in Ayodhya. Kausalya beheld the white horse gallop tri-umphantly through the northern gate. It symbolized victory and the frui-tion of their goal. As expected, no one had challenged King Dasharatha’s authority as emperor. It was a testimony to their satisfaction but also to his military skill; few would dare rise up against a king who had never been defeated. The time to perform the fire sacrifice was quickly approaching. Kausalya was ready. The previous year had been a busy one, especially for her, who oversaw food preparations, payments, and the well-being of the workers.
In addition, Kausalya was fiercely committed to integrating the women who had returned from Ravana’s failed abduction attempt. None of the thirty-three women were native to the land of Koshala, and this added to the challenge. The one woman from Ayodhya, the mother of the deceased Lila and Lava, was not among the returned.
Rani spoke often of the many who were still missing, especially the one she called
“the brave lady” who had rallied them together. The matriarchs of the dancing girls had impressed Kausalya with their warm welcome and their detachment from the endowments, for they were already far wealthier than most Ayodhyans. Though Kausalya did not practice favoritism, she couldn’t keep Rani from her side.
Rani had taken to Kausalya just as she had to Chitra, her adoptive father. Far
thr ee queens
into her adolescence, the girl showed little sign of morphing into a woman. Perhaps it would always remain so. Kausalya was now training Rani to be her assistant; although petite, Rani was sharp as a whip and bursting with energy.
With Rani as her shadow, the Great Queen oversaw the creation of the arena where the ritual would take place. Thousands of bricks had been shaped and guesthouses for the invitees had been constructed. Kings and their representatives had been called from all over the world. It was paramount that everyone be duly honored in a sacrifice of this magnitude. The brick makers, carpenters, and earth diggers had constructed a small city on the banks of the Sarayu. They had built long halls to facilitate mass food distribution, and even while the rest of the site was under construction, Kausalya had ensured that food was provided for all travelers, workers, and citizens who wanted it. Kausalya had wielded her usual authority in seeing the arrangements through.
Dasharatha might have three queens, but Ayodhya had only two, for Kaikeyi was nowhere to be seen in these dealings. Kausalya was active, morning to night, and Sumitra was there by her side, falling naturally into the role of Kausalya’s caretaker. When Kausalya forgot to eat or drink, Sumitra was there to sit her down. Kaikeyi, however, was conspic-uous in her absence. What the youngest queen did with her time was not Kausalya’s concern. Dasharatha refused to hear a word on this topic. After Manthara’s trial, he had all but resigned himself to Kaikeyi and Manthara’s ways. Rumor had it that Kaikeyi spent all her days tending to her horses, as if she was a horse merchant rather than a queen. Like a child, she was opposed to the killing of the white stallion, as though she would not partake in the results. The young queen could be so lax and whimsical only because others, namely Kausalya, shouldered the responsibilities.
As the auspicious time came closer, the sacrificial arena was completed in the center of the temporary city. The customary fire sacrifices required six fire pits, but for this event Vasishta had ordered eighteen, laying them out in the shape of an eagle. The priests who had constructed the fire pits assured the king that the bird shape would help the offerings fly up to the heavens.
The night before the fires were lit, Kausalya withdrew from service to focus on her personal rituals and prayers. She knew the priests would ensure that all the ghee pots were filled and the dusty roads sprinkled with fragrant water. The chief priest, Rishyashringa, directed every detail with an expertise that no one could question. As evening came, Kausalya dressed in pure white and went to take part in the slaying of the white stallion. Sumantra, the trusted minister, was there, and handed Kausalya the sword. Knowing how unfamiliar this part of the ritual was to Kausalya, he repeated his previous instructions: “Three strokes with the sword. Use all your power, both physical and mental.”
Kausalya gripped the unfamiliar instrument and walked toward the stallion. The stallion grew docile as a priest whispered mantras into its ear. Mantras for the swift rebirth of the animal were chanted aloud. Wielding the sword with all her power, Kausalya ended the stallion’s life with three strokes. She had never killed a living creature before, not even an insect. But the sight of the dead horse didn’t shake her; she knew that death was part of the 171
ch a p ter 19
natural cycle. Kausalya also knew the importance of this ritual. Like her people, she did not believe in coincidences. She had not borne her husband a son; it was no trick of fate. There was a reason for it. She prayed that the cleansing fires would purify them all and restore balance. Kausalya circumambulated the animal three times with the sword in her hand. Her hands shook as she handed the bloody sword to Sumantra. Only then did Kausalya see the other two queens. Sumitra and Kaikeyi circumambulated the dead steed, thanking it for its sacrifice. Kaikeyi appeared stiff throughout her walk around the stallion; she couldn’t bear the sight of the dead horse. Kausalya resolved to stay with the dead animal throughout the night, to atone for sins known and unknown. If the sacrifice proved futile, she would know that the fault was not hers.
The next morning, in the presence of the kings and royalty invited from far and wide, the fires were lit, and the horse’s flesh was offered into the flames, along with three hundred other animals. The sacred scriptures guaranteed that the king would be purified of his sins as he breathed in the smoke from the offerings. The priests performed ritual after ritual, and Kausalya sat by the king’s side, offering oblations into the fire at the required times.
The mantras charged the atmosphere with energy, and Kausalya felt that her earthly existence gave way to something more expansive; she grew small, becoming simply a piece in the unfolding of the ceremony, which was larger than any one of them.
One by one, the gods in heaven appeared, to accept their respective oblations and bless the sacrifice. They were shining beings, personifications of beauty. Kausalya was dazzled. Finally, it was her turn to step forward and accept her oblation. Although the three queens were of equal birth, scripture divided them. First, Rishyashringa called for Mahisi, the queen, and Kausalya rose. She could not help the pride that welled up in her heart.
Rishyashringa then called for Parivritti, the neglected woman, and Sumitra rose shyly.
Lastly, he called for Vavata, the concubine, and Kaikeyi accepted her oblation, her face painstakingly neutral.
Their part done, the queens were escorted to a chamber built especially for them. Here they would wait for the culmination of the ceremony, when they would drink the fertility nectar. This part of the ceremony had to be done in utmost privacy, and therefore the queens waited without their usual attendants. Choosing a seat near the windows, Kausalya took her place and Sumitra seated herself nearby. Kaikeyi sat across from them, clearly apart.
Kausalya listened to the sacred hymns chanted in the large arena. The air vibrated with the ancient mantra’s power. They had prepared an entire year, and Kausalya tingled with the excitement from all she had seen. She repeatedly glanced at the entranceway to see if her husband was coming. She could not understand how Sumitra or Kaikeyi could be so calm.
She let her gaze rest on Kaikeyi, trying to read her. Kaikeyi was especially hard to interpret; her beauty was distracting. At that thought, Kausalya felt resentment rise in her throat. She pushed it firmly away, not willing to taint a sacred time with petty emotions.
It occurred to Kausalya that Kaikeyi was so unruffled because she was young and inexperienced. She had not been by the king’s side through years of barrenness; she had not felt the deep sense of failure Kausalya and Sumitra shared. Kaikeyi had not been a witness to the 172
thr ee queens
anguish of Ayodhya while it grappled with its heirlessness. Of course, Dasharatha had never blamed Kausalya, but still she wondered: Would the two other women be sitting here now if she had given birth to a son?
Yes, Kausalya did feel entitled to the king’s love; he was her husband first. What a plati-tude it had been when Kaikeyi arrived. It was such an old story, it almost didn’t hurt, being displaced by a younger woman. And there it was again, her old resentment. She even called it that—“my old resentment”—because she was determined to put it behind her now. Only because Kausalya had ached with emptiness so long would she know the sweetness of fulfillment. Kaikeyi could easily recline there now without concern, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her black hair around her finger. Looking at Kaikeyi with her new resolve, Kausalya was able to see more of the young queen’s heart.
Kaikeyi fidgeted in her seat. The three queens had never been so long in the same room before. Kausalya and Sumitra held each other’s hands and leaned toward each other to share words. Kaikeyi’s eyes lingered on their clasped hands.
Some Ayodhyans called Kaikeyi power hungry. Kaikeyi wouldn’t understand why she had earned that reputation. She seemed to feel no guilt or remorse about her actions. For her it was a competition, and she was the winner of their husband’s affection. Rumor had it that Kaikeyi’s father still held high hopes that Kaikeyi’s son would be king. Perhaps King Ashvapati did not know how close Dasharatha had come to banning Kaikeyi from the ceremony altogether. After she had sided with Manthara during the trial, Dasharatha had been cold with fury. It took him months to relent. Those months had given Kausalya an insight into her husband’s dependence on Kaikeyi. Instead of properly rebuking Kaikeyi and going on with his duties, he had been completely self-absorbed in his heartbreak. It was a relief when finally the two made up and reunited. He loved Kaikeyi too much to exclude her forever.
Kausalya was beginning to accept this truth because she was the Mahisi, the queen, and Kaikeyi the concubine.
The curtains behind Kaikeyi shifted with the breeze, and one of the sun’s rays found its way into the room, falling on Kausalya. She was startled by the sudden ray of light and let out a quick laugh, lifting her palm to shield her face. Kaikeyi’s eyes fastened on the older queen.
Feeling Kaikeyi’s scrutiny, Kausalya returned her gaze. Neither of them lowered their eyes or looked away. Kaikeyi’s eyes were like windows to a palace. Kausalya could see their 173
ch a p ter 19
depth but not their content. Kaikeyi smiled at Kausalya for the first time since the two had met.
Kausalya turned her attention to Sumitra. Sumitra had been considered gentle all her life. It was a quality that served her well, as the tension oscillated back and forth between the two other women in the room. Sumitra was by definition the middle queen, and it was likely that she felt the burden of it, always the buffer between Kausalya and Kaikeyi. Somehow Kaikeyi did not seem threatened by Sumitra. With Sumitra, Kaikeyi was almost kind. Most often, she did not take note of the middle queen. That was a sort of kindness.
