Sometimes being the oldest sister is like a curse – all duty and no pleasure, but I make myself stop, and don’t reach out and pull Ambika’s hair like I want to. I wish someone would notice how very noble-minded and ladylike I am being, and in the absence of anyone else, I stand up and teeter over to the driver’s seat, where Bheeshma is sitting up, and Yashas is holding the ropes easily and letting the horses run.
‘Are we close?’ I ask him, and he turns to me, I see that smile of his in the gloomy twilight.
‘All children are alike then, it seems. My brothers could not sit still for one moment as soon as they were tired. But, to answer your question, we are not far from where we will stop for the evening, and about a day and a night and another day from Hastinapura.’
‘So far!’ I say. I can’t bear it.
‘I drove far to find you princesses, and now I must hurry back with my treasure.’
Something about the way he says this makes me suddenly shy. I think it’s the way his face changes, he’s not teasing any more, or even if he is, he’s doing it gently, like a lover would.
Flustered, I change the subject. ‘You said brothers. Did one of your brothers find a bride the normal way then? Is your other one so ugly that no one will have him?’ I began the question only joking, but as I finish, I realize it’s actually something I’m worried about. There must be something very wrong with this boy that his family couldn’t find anyone closer to him than us.
‘Peace,’ says Bheeshma, ‘Vichitravirya is a fine-looking prince. His mother – my stepmother – is known for her beauty and she passed on her good looks to her children. There are just no eligible girls to be had closer to Hastinapura, and we would not have our crown prince marry just anyone. As for my other brother, he is dead.’
Yashas slows down the horses to a walk, so we can enter a small copse. ‘This is where we will stop for the night,’ Bheeshma tells me. ‘Wake up your sisters. Yashas, come and help me with the fire and laying out the beds.’
And with that, he swings himself down and makes the horses stop, unhitching them himself, and laying the front of the chariot down gently, a nice touch, I think because no one within it is jolted awake. I see him lead the horses away while Yashas gathers the firewood, all four of them as docile as pets, barely frothing from all their exercise, but so delighted to be free that they touch noses and whinny gently to each other. ‘All right, my beauties,’ I hear him say as he leads them off towards what must be a running stream, ‘You’ve done well today, my stars.’
Later, we have just finished eating – he has shot us some hare, and Lalita has shown a marked talent for skinning and dressing them, and it turns out his stepmother has put a cloth bundle of salt and some dried herbs among his supplies. He opens up the bundle and shakes his head. ‘That woman is a witch, I don’t know how she knows exactly what we’ll need.’ I start to imagine her as this capable large woman, modelled on one of the cooks in our palace, a woman called Gauhar, fat and fair and with a knack for everything, from making our food to midwifery. She was so indispensable, especially when she made her soft broths that could cure everything from colds to a sick stomach, that my father would take her along on his campaigns. He is prone to indigestion, especially after a night in the cups, and Gauhar is the only one who can cure him. No one knows how old she is either, she brought her grown son and daughter to work at the palace when we were born, and now her grandchildren are dandling their own babies while she goes on, tirelessly working in the kitchen.
I am poking the fire with a stick, wondering how I am going to stay in my uncomfortable wedding clothes for two days, the gold already beginning to weigh me down, when Bheeshma squats next to me. ‘Does something ail your sister?’ he murmurs to me, and I glance over where he’s looking at Ambalika. She’s awake now, but sitting with her eyes fixed and unblinking on the fire. She’s never been quite so bad before, and I’m not sure what to do.
‘Sometimes she,’ I twist my hands back and forth to illustrate what I mean while I think, ‘disappears into herself. Especially when she is frightened or nervous.’ I can’t have him leave her here though, as I suddenly remember what Ambika said about idiots being put to death. ‘She is probably just tired and will revive once we are in the palace. After all, you did abduct her away from everything she ever knew and loved. You can’t expect her to be skipping around.’
‘Stop saying abduct,’ he snaps, ‘I did not steal you away in the dead of night like a criminal. I gave everyone there a choice. And I don’t see why she’s frightened. Of me? I have been nothing but kind to all of you.’
‘Except snatching us away from our marriage ceremony!’ I snap back. He is irritating me now. ‘And you didn’t give everyone there a choice. You didn’t give us a choice, for example.’
‘You would not have been happy with those weak men, Princess.’
‘Stop deciding things for me! That was the only time I had a choice. A choice! To marry whomever I wanted! And you took it away from me.’
‘Did you really want to marry one of those men?’
I don’t want to tell him about Salva, not just yet. I don’t know this man very well at all, and what if, once he learns my mind and parts of my body have already been given to someone else, what if he leaves me alone in the forest to die? He seems practical, and my father is practical, and that is what my father would do.
He touches my shoulder. I move away, making a big show of draping the end of my sari over my bare skin. It’s funny, a palace is so large, so much larger then this little corner of the woods, and yet there I was never alone with Salva or anyone, and here, it seems like we can talk without worrying about a hundred ears listening to what I say.
‘I’m sorry, Your Highness,’ says Bheeshma, ‘but I assure you, no one will force you to marry Vichitravirya. Just meet him, and if you find him lacking, you may return to your kingdom.’
‘Do you promise?’ I ask, looking up at him.
And he nods his head. ‘I promise.’
Dawn is close to breaking when I wake up the next morning, the sun hasn’t yet begun to rise, but you can tell he’s thinking about it, because the sky is lighter and the birds who are the most ardent worshippers of Surya, are preparing for his arrival. My sisters are still asleep. I remember I went to sleep worrying about Ambalika, who hasn’t said a word yet, and the same worry knots in my stomach as soon as I remember it. Last night, Ambika joined me on the rock I was sitting on as I gazed at our younger sister, trying to figure out what I could do to make her more comfortable.
‘She’ll be fine,’ said Ambika. ‘If you worry so much, you will give yourself lines across your forehead, like our father has.’
‘How can I not worry?’ I asked her. ‘Look at her, Ambika. She hasn’t said a word since we got on this journey, and I know it’s not ideal, but, we’re managing, aren’t we?’
Ambika shot me a pitying, patronising look. ‘You know she’s made of different things than us, Sister. I think that’s why she got all the looks in our family, because there had to be something to compensate for the emptiness inside her head.’
We sat in silence still watching Ambalika, who was being helped to the rushes on the ground which were to serve as our bed for the night. Lalita was showing infinite patience, and Ambalika wouldn’t let her out of her sight, tracking her as she went towards the fire, or back to the chariot to get more furs. She was like a newborn baby who searches for its mother, only soothed when the familiar face was close, when she could reach out and take Lalita’s hand and then lie down curled into Lalita’s body, with Lalita’s hands stroking her hair gently, murmuring a low lullaby in her gravelly voice.
Sleep Varuna’s darling, mother’s pride,
Tomorrow we will go to the fair
I shall buy you a clay horse
Or a clay monkey
But first you must sleep, my own, my sweetling
my prince of the gods
On and on, Lalita went, the same tune, the same words, until w
e all fell asleep next to her, not even wondering where she learned the words, because she must have had a mother once, when she was a little boy, just born, a mother who thought her son was the world. I remember thinking just before I went to sleep how strange life was, and how surprised Lalita’s mother would be to hear that her son was now maid to three princesses, on a forced chariot ride with them across who knew how many yojanas, towards who knew what fate.
When I glance across to where Bheeshma was sitting the night before – did he ever intend to sleep – I saw that it was empty, and the horses were now gone, but I could hear splashes from the stream, so I quickly straightened out my clothing, pulled my hair into a knot and walked in that direction.
There he stands in the middle of the stream, his bottom cloth draped just about his middle and not hanging down so I could see his strong calves, his muscular thighs with the hair on them covered with a fine film of water that caught the early morning light. Of course I had seen men before, it was not the custom in Kashi to be overly modest about your dress or your habits, but never a man such as this one, his bull-like shoulders above his slender waist, the way the skin of his back rippled as he moved.
As I watch, he picks up his bow from where it is lying on the bank, and nocks an arrow into it. He looks up, raises the bow above his head and lets the arrow fly. It whistles through the leaves and falls on the ground in front of him, bearing a bright purple mangosteen. Bheeshma slides the fruit off and eats it, the juice dribbling down his beard.
Yashas comes up out of the trees and wades into the water as well. Bheeshma sees him, and I see his mouth quirk up into a smile. The two of them bathe silently, Bheeshma finishes splashing water on his face and climbs out, Yashas strips to just his loin cloth and dives into the water, his shoulders gleaming in the sunlight.
Bheeshma turns, spots me and smiles. ‘A blessed day, Your Highness! It’s a good thing you’re awake because I was thinking of waking you all sooner, but the sight of your peaceful sleeping faces gave me pause.’
‘Everyone else is still asleep,’ I say, determinedly not looking in his direction. ‘I am used to rising early.’
‘An excellent habit,’ he says, ‘Remember this, Princess, the one who wakes first is always one step ahead of the lie-abed. It’s something about how people are when they are woken from a deep sleep, always a little weaker than everyone else, a little helpless.’
The horses whinny and stamp their feet. One of the dark ones nuzzles his chest, while one of the white ones shakes its mane, almost as though it wants to be admired.
‘What beauties they are,’ I say, softly. I am filled again with a pang for my Sauvee, best of all horses. These ones are chariot horses, of course, and they are bigger than Sauvee, with larger, stockier bodies so they can trample the roads ahead, but the way the white one is bridling just a little, almost dancing on tiptoe as she drinks water makes me think of the way Sauvee’s head would stay still, her ears flicking back, an almost human expression on her face. Oh Sauvee, Sauvee, I will never see you again!
Bheeshma must have been watching my face, because he says gently, ‘Do you love horses then, Princess?’
‘I do,’ I say. ‘I was just thinking of my own little mare, she was my pet...’
‘Ah, I know the ones they give to royal women are of the sweetest temperament,’ he says. ‘My own stepmother never really got used to riding but her horse follows her around like a dog, he’d come into the palace if he were allowed to, and my brothers grew up riding him because he was so tame.’
‘Sauvee isn’t really like a dog,’ I say. ‘She’s more like a tame deer. She’s as shy as a doe around people she doesn’t know very well, but once you know her she reaches out for you, and it’s as though she is doing you a great favour by accepting any food you have in your palm.’
I watch the horses again, as they climb out of the water and begin to pick at the grass. ‘I wonder if anyone will love her now, or ride her, or whether my father will sell her to just anyone, and her new owner will be cruel to her, because she does not run as fast as a charger and he doesn’t know that.’ I feel the tears forming in my eyes, the first time I have cried since I left Kashi and I look down and gulp really hard so that he won’t see me. But I forget how closely he watches, because he walks over to me as well, puts his finger on my chin and tilts up my face in a way that only someone you were intimate with would.
‘These are not riding horses for women,’ he says, after he has wiped my tears with the ball of his thumb, unsentimentally and matter-of-fact, ‘but I trained them myself so they are gentle and capable. The two white ones are Agni and Surya, the dark ones are Yama and Kama. I’d suggest getting on Surya, he’s the one over there who has been trying to get your attention by flicking his mane about. O vain one! Did you hope to attract a princess?’
I give a watery laugh and follow him over to Surya, who does appear very much like he wants to be noticed. I stroke his flank and murmur to him, and he pushes his petal-soft nose into my palms.
‘There, he likes you,’ says Bheeshma. ‘Now, I have no bridle, since they are only pulling the chariot, but here, I will take my upper cloth and put it over his body like so, and you can hold on to his mane. He’ll listen to you, and you just tug his mane if you want to go in a particular direction. Ready?’
I’m not ready, this horse is so much bigger than Sauvee, almost a wall of white, but Bheeshma picks me up by my waist and deposits me on Surya’s back and I’m blinking down at him.
‘You have a nice seat,’ says Bheeshma, admiringly. ‘You must have had a good teacher. Here, Yama, come to your master, let’s have a little run.’ Yama trots over and Bheeshma is up and on him so smoothly that it looks like they’re both made of liquid and then Bheeshma gives the command and both horses set off on a fast trot that soon becomes a canter.
At first, I am clinging on to Surya’s mane for all I’m worth, but soon I remember that this is a horse, and I am used to horses. I don’t think it’s my mind that remembers as much as my body, so even though I’m a little scared, my body knows what to do with my knees and my arms, and I’m tilting up my face towards the rising sun, liking the warmth on my face. It is still the season of sharad, and while the days can be hot, they are never uncomfortably so.
‘We have a lovely riding path near the palace in Hastinapura!’ shouts Bheeshma from in front of me. ‘Maybe once you are settled, I will see about acquiring your mare for you from your father.’
‘I do not think he would sell her to you,’ I say, not intending to be rude, but also surprised that he thinks my father would just forgive him so easily.
He laughs, ‘No, I am not quite so thick-headed as to expect that! Don’t you worry, Princess, I’ll have your horse waiting for you in your own stables as soon as I possibly can.’
I am recalled to my anger for an instant – I haven’t forgiven him yet – but I am also curious. A picture of Salva, slack mouthed with pleasure surrounded by concubines swims up into my mind, and I push it away. Then, why not, I push away my anger too, just for the time being. It settles into the bottom of my heart, a gentle, seething mass – I’m still angry, but I can forget about it for a moment.
‘What’s it like?’ I ask instead. ‘Hastinapura?’
He slows down his horse to a walk to be by my side, ‘It’s a grand city,’ he says. ‘The people are happy, no one begs in the streets, we take care of the old and the orphaned. There are traders who come in frequently from kingdoms near and far, and there is always some exciting fruit to be eaten or painting to be looked at. Our palace is very lovely, there are pools in the middle where we bathe in the hot months, and my father filled it with beautiful things to look at if ever you are bored.’
I’m listening, my mouth a little open and he smiles and continues, ‘Because we are right in the middle of the trading route, a lot of visiting royalty and noblemen stop to pass a few nights with us. Those are the days we have feasts and dancing girls and singers, for we nurture talent in o
ur kingdom, and all the finest singers and dancers live just beyond the palace.’
I think of Kashi, the fort my father turned into a palace, how Kashi was just always about being Kashi. Protecting the borders, making sure his army was well-trained, making sure no one broke in to his golden egg and stole the treasure within. Which was his crown. My father had no use for fripperies like dancing girls and bathing pools. He had his concubines and his wine, but he is a soldier, and did not think we would need more than his soldier’s life.
Then I think of Salva’s kingdom, up in the North, and how barren and harsh it is meant to be – bitterly cold in the winter, cruel steep winding roads for us to move about on, no pleasure to be had there either.
No, I will not soften just with the promise of some water to frolic in and a feast.
I look over at Bheeshma, who does look a bit self-satisfied, I try to mock his face in my head, and find I cannot.
I will not soften just for the sake of this man who has abducted us.
And then he turns and rides back to the camp and I follow and I see Salva standing there, a sword in his hand.
‘Salva!’ I say, scrambling off the horse so fast that I almost fall, but Bheeshma is beside me in an instant and holding my elbow to steady me. I see Salva’s face set at that. His lips thin and his eyes narrow. He must have ridden hard to find us, his brow is beaded with sweat and his body sags in the middle, as though a joint is missing.
Yashas is standing in front of my sisters and Lalita, silent as he has been through this whole journey. When he spots Bheeshma, his body relaxes a little, but only just. Bheeshma tosses a look in Yashas’ direction and nods for him to stay where he is.
Ambika throws me a frightened look from behind Yashas. ‘Salva just arrived,’ she says. ‘He has come to claim you – and us – and fight Bheeshma, for honour, for the honour of his house and ours and I looked for you, and couldn’t find you.’ She is a little out of breath and I can see she has been searching for us, to warn us about Salva and how I should appear. Oh, I know how I should appear! I should look downcast and sorrowful, unable to eat or drink, perishing from pining after him, not the way I look now, rosy-cheeked from my ride, completely at ease with this man who has spoilt the good name of my father.
Girls of the Mahabharata Page 8
