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tmp, page 50
Entering Kaikeyi’s chamber, she found her mistress reclining on a luxurious throne.
“Kaikeyi! Get up! You will be thrown into the streets at any moment!”
Kaikeyi laughed and didn’t move. When had she become so indolent?
“Kaikeyi, get up at once and realize the gravity of the situation!” Manthara waved her cane in the air in frustration.
“You forget, my dear, that I have no idea what grave situation you are so wild about, unless you are about to drop that cane on me.”
Kaikeyi’s calm was a wind on Manthara’s fire, making her blaze up when she had promised herself to stay calm. How stupid Kaikeyi had become over the years, like a docile cow, drunk on that love poison the king kept feeding her. And yet in the past years, Manthara had become overly zealous and every week had a “grave” situation to be dealt with. She cursed herself, though she didn’t have time for self-recrimination now. She had to make Kaikeyi see!
Banging her stick on the floor for emphasis, Manthara again commanded, “Get up, I say!”
“All right,” Kaikeyi said, raising herself slightly. “I’m up.”
“Listen carefully,” Manthara implored.
The old woman looked Kaikeyi hard in the eyes, and in one breath she said, “Rama is going to be consecrated as prince-regent tomorrow morning, and he will be the next king of Ayodhya.”
“Oh, Manthara!” Kaikeyi exclaimed, sitting up at once. “That is wonderful news.”
Manthara stared at Kaikeyi with dismay. This was not the reaction she wanted.
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“The installation is tomorrow,” Manthara repeated.
“Today, tomorrow—what does it matter? Rama will make a perfect king. I’m so happy to hear this!”
A warm color spread across Kaikeyi’s cheeks. Kaikeyi had gone from neutral to exulted within seconds. It didn’t seem natural. For who’s sake was she acting the part of a doting mother? Kaikeyi stood up and, with eager fingers, unfastened the largest gem she was wearing, presenting it to Manthara. “This is for bringing me such good news.”
Her eyes glittered; she radiated joy.
“Have you gone completely and utterly mad?” Manthara asked.
It was either that or a theatrical act, as Kaikeyi stood there beaming, cheeks flushed. It was so well rehearsed, in fact, that Kaikeyi herself believed it.
“I know it’s a priceless gem,” Kaikeyi said, misunderstanding Manthara yet again. “You deserve nothing less for being the bearer of this news!”
“You are the biggest fool on Earth!” Manthara exclaimed. She threw the gem to the floor with all her might. Kaikeyi looked in shock at the gem that clattered against the floor, skid-ding away. Manthara glared at Kaikeyi.
“Manthara! How dare you behave like this? Get out of my sight at once! Or I will really regret what I’m about to say.”
Undaunted, Manthara screamed back, “I do not care if you are angry at me or if you punish me. Soon we will both be begging in the streets. We will be thrown out of Ayodhya!”
“What is this madness about?”
“If only you weren’t so invested in this theatrical act, you would already know!”
“Theatrical act?”
“Can’t you see that Rama’s coronation is the beginning of your downfall as Dasharatha’s favored queen?”
“The king loves us all,” Kaikeyi countered weakly.
“Please, play your game with others, but not with me. I’ve known you from your birth, don’t forget that. You are Dasharatha’s favorite queen and you know it.”
“So what?” Kaikeyi said proudly.
“I can’t believe I have to point out the obvious. The reality of the situation is—”
“I am a grown woman and a mother,” Kaikeyi said. “Don’t presume to lecture me anymore. The king’s love for me will last beyond our deaths.”
“That is all going to change when Rama becomes king.”
“I don’t understand. Rama is a son to me, and I am truly happy to see him crowned.”
“But you are forgetting a crucial detail,” Manthara said. “Rama is not your son. He is Kausalya’s son. The son of your co-wife, who is jealous of you. Kausalya hates you.”
Manthara’s fear grew, as she whispered, “Bharata is in the most vulnerable position of all. If he is not put on the throne, then he is a threat, that’s all. Why didn’t Dasharatha, the so-called upholder of justice, simply do as he promised when taking your hand, Kaikeyi?
Bharata should be king. If Rama becomes king, eliminating Bharata will be the first step.
That’s what any king would do!”
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Manthara had Kaikeyi’s attention.
“But Rama loves Bharata. He would never let harm befall us.”
Manthara dug deep into her knowledge of her queen. Kaikeyi had to discard her fantasies and open her eyes to the reality before them.
“You are naive. Everyone changes when they taste power. Do you seriously think that Kausalya has no influence over her own son? The balance of power is about to tip toward the Great Queen. She will become the most valuable queen with her son on the throne.”
Kaikeyi sat down heavily. “The king wouldn’t listen to her. He has been faithful and devoted to me alone all these years.”
“Listen to me, Kaikeyi, because your grief is my grief. Only if you prosper can I prosper; there is no doubt in this. I will not mislead you. Bharata and I completely depend on you. You must protect us.”
“Rama loves—”
“Love again! Is that your best argument? I’m tired of this nonsense about love.”
She spit out the words and had to wipe spittle from her chin. She sat down close to the queen. “Kausalya has envied your beauty since you arrived. In the past, you have openly disrespected her. Won’t she finally take her revenge? Trust me, you will become her maidservant.”
Kaikeyi beheld Manthara with narrowing eyes. “Kausalya did threaten me of this once,” she said. “She threw clay pots at me and shouted that she was the queen, that everything I have was due to her permission. My hold on the king, she claimed, was only due to her benevolence.”
“You see. You and Bharata will become slaves under the rule of Rama and his mother.
Rama is a learned man in the affairs of state. His actions are timely and appropriate. A king in power must weed out anyone who threatens his throne, and Bharata is next in line among the brothers. He is the only brother who is in danger because Lakshmana is Rama’s right-hand man. Rama protects Lakshmana. Shatrugna is the youngest, fourth in line to the throne. When I think of what will become of Bharata under Rama’s rule, I’m overwhelmed with fear.”
“Rama thinks of his brothers as his own self. He will be fair towards Bharata.”
“Nonsense! Rama is his elder brother by only a day. Bharata’s life is in danger. Better you advise him to stay in your father’s house or send him far, far away. Rama will throw him in the dungeon at best. More likely he will kill him or have him executed. Be sure of that. And you—you can imagine what Kausalya will do to you.”
Kaikeyi shook her head.
She clung to her foolish illusions, Manthara could see that.
“I will give you proof,” Manthara said, unable to hide her satisfaction. “As I first emphasized, the installation is”—she paused dramatically—“tomorrow.”
Kaikeyi shrugged and threw her hands up, as if this fact meant nothing. “How do you even know all this? I am the queen, and I have not been informed.”
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“Exactly! Everyone on Kausalya’s team knows. You are being purposefully excluded.
Even the lowly wet nurse knows. She is the one who told me.”
Manthara watched in silence, as Kaikeyi’s thoughts played across her face. The doubt spread itself across Kaikeyi’s face, like stubborn insects crawling in where least welcome.
“Why is your dear king in such haste?” Manthara demanded, satisfied to see that Kaikeyi was holding her breath. “Because Bharata is not here! The king wants to finish everything before Bharata or your father comes to know of it, before they can stop it. Think, my dear, think! Why an installation all of a sudden? Why can’t he wait for Bharata and Shatrugna to return? Why didn’t he talk to you about all this? Even Rama’s wet nurse, a mere servant, knows. And you, the so-called favorite queen, are left completely in the dark. Is it a coincidence? Neither your father, your son, nor you have been informed. Shouldn’t your father be told that his grandson is being robbed of his throne?”
“When Dasharatha made that promise, he thought that my son would be his only son.”
“On the contrary, your king knows he’s on shaky ground. He is worried that you or Bharata will assert your rights to the throne. He is rushing through this entire procedure.
Yuddhajit’s coronation took months to prepare for!”
Kaikeyi looked shaken by Manthara’s accusations.
“He has seemed worried lately,” Kaikeyi muttered to herself. “Was it guilt? Has he been afraid I would disapprove? Has he been planning to abandon me?”
Manthara had heard enough. “I have not stood by you your entire life to watch this happen. Rama is not more qualified than Bharata. This throne was never meant for Rama. He must be displaced. Rama is nobody. He was not even born when it was decided that your son would be king.”
Manthara put her face very close to Kaikeyi and said, “He . . . is . . . not . . . your . . . son.
Come back to your senses.”
Manthara sat down, as if the effort had cost her. “Listen to me. Just leave Rama out of this. It’s not personal against him. It’s not him we are against. We are against the king breaking his promise, neglecting the bride-price he made when he married you. That’s one thing. The other factors to consider are our goals. We want our position in this kingdom to remain secure. We do not want to be exiled, do we? Do you want to be ruined and turn into wasteland?”
Here, Manthara paused. She waited until Kaikeyi shook her head. “Your brother told you what happened to your mother. She was torn away from her children. Discarded. Exiled. She disappeared. You don’t want to turn out like your mother, do you?”
Kaikeyi stared at Manthara. She sat down, whispering almost imperceptibly, “No, no.”
With every passing moment, Manthara felt that her own sense of impending doom was transferred to Kaikeyi. Manthara could tell that Kaikeyi was starting to see the world as Manthara saw it.
“If you don’t want to be exiled,” Manthara said, articulating each word slowly, “then Bharata must become king. That’s the only way to protect him. That’s the only way he can protect you. Do you understand?”
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“I will not become a wasteland!” Kaikeyi said. “I must stop this. I will protect Bharata. I will protect myself.”
“You will do what you are best at,” Manthara said as she pulled Kaikeyi’s head near and whispered into her ear. “Fight.”
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chapter 49
Two Old Boons
he day quickly became night. Since the decision to consecrate Rama, Dasha-Tratha’s hands had been full. It was not small feat to pull together a consecration in such short time. As the moon rose in the sky, Dasharatha finally disengaged himself from the preparations.
He headed straight to Kaikeyi’s palace, eager to be with her and share the news.
His mind buzzed with the urgency of the next day’s event. Just placing Rama in front of the people and saying, “This is your new king” would be enough. The citizens had already roared their approval. But the formality of consecrating Rama was nevertheless necessary. A slight apprehension seized him again. But so much had changed.
Manthara and Ashvapati’s accusations had no bearings.
When he arrived at Kaikeyi’s palace gate and passed the pond with swans, his heartbeat quickened. He laughed aloud when he realized why. What a joy to have a wife like her. He longed to relax in her proximity and to share his exhilaration with her. He was sure the news would delight her. She loved Rama so much. As he entered, she didn’t greet him at the door as she usually did. He hurried into the bedroom.
“Kaikeyi,” he said, “you won’t believe the wonderful news I have to tell you.”
The room was empty.
“Kaikeyi,” he said, louder.
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This was unusual. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. She was always here when he arrived. He looked around the luxurious chamber and heard musical instruments mingling with the sound of parrots and peacocks. He took in how charming the ornate ivory and silver thrones were, surrounded by creepers and flowers. The night-blooming jasmine, Kaikeyi’s favorite scent, flowered in every corner, releasing its intoxicating perfume. Large champak flowers floated in ornate bowls of water, their citrus fragrance mingling with jasmine. Every corner of Kaikeyi’s palace was created for intimacy and romance. These were all details he ordinarily did not notice when Kaikeyi was in front of him. Where was she?
Her absence agitated him significantly. Maybe all the bad omens he had been seeing of late were not about Rama at all. A vision of Kaikeyi lying in a pool of blood flashed through his mind. Heart pounding with unease, Dasharatha turned away from the desolate chamber and began to search for Kaikeyi. All the maidservants had been dismissed. Not even Manthara was in sight, one of the first times Dasharatha found himself wishing that the hunchback would appear.
To his great relief, he found Sukhi and Dukhi whispering in a corner. They jumped in fright when they saw Dasharatha approach and then began to bow and supplicate in an overly nervous manner. When he asked where Kaikeyi was, they answered both at the same time, speaking so fast, he understood nothing. They finally managed to convey that the queen had gone to the House of Wrath. Dasharatha did not ask why. He didn’t think he could bear their circumspect manner of answering, not now when his nerves were stretched. He steeled himself for the encounter. A woman’s wrath was a powerful thing.
As he hurried to the House of Wrath, he searched his mind for a cause of Kaikeyi’s sudden displeasure. Pushing aside the black curtain, he ventured into the dimly lit room. The House did little to uplift anyone’s mood, he thought, as he squinted into the dark corners to find Kaikeyi. He stepped on something and picked up an earring. It was one that he had given her last year. He found its match some distance away. Not a good sign, as the distance implied that she must have flung them. Dasharatha walked deeper into the dimly lit chamber, picking up discarded jewelry—a heavy necklace, a number of precious rings, and anklets. He saw a cascade of bangles and a small heap of flowers on the floor. He followed the trail into a secluded room to the side, his hands now weighed down by the solid gold ornaments that somehow did not look as heavy when they decorated Kaikeyi’s lovely limbs.
Taking a few steps into the room, he suddenly dropped all that he had carefully gathered. So unprepared was he for the sight of Kaikeyi splayed out on the floor, her black hair scattered, half covering her face and snaking around her neck and arms. Her distress was clear, for she was convulsing with silent sobs. She hit her fists against the floor and shook her head from side to side. Dasharatha stumbled over the gold ornaments and ran to her, his heart in his throat.
“My love!” he exclaimed. He dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms.
“No!” she cried, her voice hoarse. She went limp in his arms. She refused to look at him.
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His heart was beating audibly, and as much to calm himself as her, he said, “All is well.
I’m here now. I’m here.”
He stroked her hair again and again and kissed the top of her head. What on earth could have happened? He couldn’t recall ever seeing her like this. He continued questioning her while wiping the perspiration from her brow and hugging her tightly. But none of his questions hit the mark, for he was unsuccessful in eliciting a response from her or arousing her to animation.
Displaying the depth of his power and to what lengths he’d go to appease her, he said, “Is there a murderer I shall set free? Or is there an innocent man I shall execute? I will make a poor man rich, Kaikeyi, or if you like, a rich man poor!”
Still she remained inanimate, and the king started feeling sick with worry. “I swear on Rama, our son, that I will punish—”
“Leave me,” she said, and rolled out of his startled arms, back onto the floor. “Leave!”
Then she closed her mouth and would say no more.
Dasharatha was dumbstruck. He scarcely recognized her as she stared up at the ceiling as if dead.
“Kaikeyi,” he said, “what has happened to bring you to this state? I implore you, please, on the strength of the love we share, tell me what ails you.”
He moved toward her again, but she rolled over several times, creating a clear gap between them. A tear rolled down the king’s cheek. “I will not move from here until you speak to me. Speak. Please speak.”
Silence ensued, and he listened to her breathing pattern, which was now steadier than his. He was about to voice his plea again, when she began to speak in an emotionless voice.
“Do you remember when I served you on the battlefield as your charioteer?”
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“Yes. You were a true warrior-queen.”
A contemptuous laugh escaped from her mouth. “Do you remember that day you would have died if it wasn’t for my intervention?”
“Of course,” he said quietly.
He refrained from saying that he would never forget that time. It had become impossible to be apart from one another; they had bonded so intensely. His life was hers.
“Do you remember the two boons you offered me?”
So that’s where she was going with this. He replied, “You said you had all you wanted now that I was alive.”
