by Eric Alagan
‘I need help, my lord, and you’re right, my mother is a silly woman and our household has grown too complex for one such as her.’
‘You should have listened to me and thrown her out long ago.’ My words were harsh and my tone a sneer.
‘You’re right, my lord, and I’m even now thinking of sending her among the servants, to live out her few remaining years.’
‘Stop taxing your thoughts. Do it! Banish her now to live with the servants!’
‘As you wish, my lord.’
Madhavi again held out the cup. She leaned close. The tip of her proud breast, behind sequined fabric, brushed my arm. It felt firm and inviting. But I resisted. For now.
I took the milk from her hand and the cool drink coursed down my throat and filled me with calm. Milk always had a soothing effect on me, and Madhavi, more than my dear Kannagi, knew it well.
Her touch teased, and I wanted to take her there and then. But I had my pride. I stalled. With great effort I postponed the inevitable. I needed an opening.
‘How will you oversee the household?’ I asked, keeping my voice casual.
‘If you promise not to vex yourself, I shall share my heart’s desire.’
‘What arrangement do you propose so onerous that I will deny your heart’s desire?’
‘I was thinking, my lord,’ said Madhavi. She went down on her knees and held my hands. Her heavy bosom heaved. ‘I was thinking of asking my elder sister for help.’
What a perfect woman, Madhavi. She knew my deepest desire, even if I had refused to acknowledge it.
‘Kannagi?’ I said, my voice disembodied. Of course it was Kannagi she spoke of, for what other person was there?
‘My elder sister Kannagi is talented in matters beyond me and knows how to well administer a household befitting a man of your stature.’
‘And you, what becomes of you?’
‘I’ll hand over the keys to Tree House and gladly be sister Kannagi’s footstool. We’ll be a family and hold a torch to how a man and his wives can lead a happy life.’
‘You want her to move into your house?’
‘I wish, no, beg my elder sister to reign in this, her house. This villa has the splendour and the space befitting your stature. I’ll confine myself to the dance academy and sleep in that wing, entering the main house only when summoned.’
‘Come with me then and let everyone see you are not the small-hearted woman as some have besmirched you.’ It was a ploy on my part. The thought of meeting Kannagi terrified me.
‘It doesn’t matter what people say, my lord, but I fear that perhaps my dear sister might harbour some harsh thoughts and words for me just yet. But surely, she is a chaste woman and will receive you, her beloved husband.’
‘You heard her words as conveyed by Anandan and carried to our ears by your trusted servant, Vasantha-Mala, that day. Do you think she might have relented?’
‘My dear sister Kannagi surely keeps her life stitched to body to await your return.’
‘Even if what you say is true, I fear for my reception too, Devi, for I have hurt her beyond words and enjoy only misery at the thought of her loneliness and anguish.’
‘Depart then with haste and end your misery, fill her life with your presence and remove her loneliness, and satisfy my craving to see our family united.’
Madhavi was marvellous. She had defused my anger. And in the process, aroused me. I was no weakling; I will not take her. I will reward her for her generosity. I exhaled long and loud, and said,
‘Your words are generous and wise beyond your age, and reveal a path through the bramble.’
‘Go, my lord, and invite her with all suitable decorum befitting my elder sister, and I wager she will accede to your blandishments, if not your wish.’
Madhavi had the wiles of a shrewd woman of commerce, a reputation attached to most devadasis. But she had also shown herself generous in wanting to share me with Kannagi although it was she who had taken the half belonging to my wife.
I found merit in her proposed arrangement but was no fool, for I too had reasons for bringing my wife here. With Kannagi managing Tree House, my dear wife’s very presence would dampen Madhavi’s more adventurous tendencies.
I could have two ripe mangoes in my hands—one I would plant so it would flourish, and the other I would devour until I tired of its taste. It was for me to find my lost courage and face Kannagi.
‘Waste not another moment, my lord, but bid my elder sister welcome. Your journey would not be in vain and you will surely thank me all the more for pressing you.’
She was right. I should have departed right away. But I had other needs. Immediate and desperate needs. I would have to reward her first.
‘Let me until the morning dwell on all you have spoken, Devi, and what might become.’
She reclined on the divan and rested on a folded arm placed behind her head. Her swollen lips parted, promising honeyed dew drops. My body arced over her and again I lost myself in her. I convinced myself that I had won. And so, I dispensed my favour to her. But a little voice kept gnawing away, saying otherwise.
When morning broke and tinkling prayer bells and incense fragrance reminded us to live and love, I did not go to my Kannagi. Not that day and not for many days, or several weeks thereafter. My old fragilities of guilt, shame, cowardice and lust chained me.
‘I’M CARRYING YOUR CHILD, our heavenly paarijatha fruit of love,’ said Madhavi.
She placed my hand on her flat stomach. Her smooth skin was wet with perspiration, and her chest heaved in gentle excitement.
‘I can sense our child,’ she said.
The news evoked new emotions. I had all along viewed Madhavi as a plaything, a source of pleasure to discard if I grew tired, a toy embraced but only to deny others, and a bad memory to escape from when I return to my wife and the righteous path. But after her revelation of our child, my child—another pleasure that Kannagi could not give me—I felt not possessiveness but a sudden protectiveness towards Madhavi.
I had reason now, more powerful than my guilt and shame, to bring Kannagi into our lives. She had lamented her inability to bear a child and even urged adoption, which I had rejected outright.
Now there was already a child—my child—and therefore part of Kannagi too. There was scant need for adoption and no need to wager on the child’s caste or lineage. These and other strange and hopeful arrangements churned and settled in my mind. I would not be the first or the last to take two wives, and so I found comfort in the company of other men, luminaries who also had two wives.
After all, if I treated both wives with equal favour and met their every need, what blame could reach my doorstep? Madhavi had already proposed a threesome. She was pushing me into the arrangement. And I was confident Kannagi would not deny me. My wife was waiting, pulling me into the arrangement. Could I resist? Who was I to resist fate?
I resolved to broach the news to Madhavi and visit my dear Kannagi with not a day’s more delay.
12: Kovalan and Madhavi Duel
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, a day of festivities when couples gathered by the water, Madhavi and I went to the river bank. It was an auspicious day, and I had decided to reveal my decision to visit dear Kannagi. Madhavi organised a sumptuous picnic spread under a wide canopied tree and we delighted in mouth-watering savouries and honeyed intoxicants.
After lunch, I lay on Madhavi’s lap and enjoyed a nap. Upon awakening, and feeling light and bright, I broke into spontaneous song. Madhavi wielded the veena.
‘A life-giver,’ I said. Before I could complete what I was about to say, she said,
‘Water. Sing a song about a life-giver, for you are, my lord, my life-giver.’
I thought for a moment and launched a verse that had been teasing me. I said:
‘Rowing his boat down the mighty Kaveri
Sisters Himavathi, Bhavani, and Bedavathi beckon
What new adventures, what new joys from the kavalan.’
To wh
ich Madhavi replied:
‘New adventures take him away
Leaving anxiety waiting lonely
Why idles the queen, descended from the Supreme?’
Impressed, I responded:
‘The poorer seek new pastures
The blessed find it all in one field
Former rolls the dice, latter remains on firm ground.’
I folded my arms and awaited her response, but her words shocked me.
‘The Kaveri strains against her banks
She too wishes to breach her confines
Find new husbands to make happy.’
I went silent and considered her words. She broke into a teasing titter, thinking she had caught me, rendering me unable to propose a proper poem. Her glee added ghee to the flame. She continued to challenge. Growing vexed, I hurled my reply.
‘She who worships all, worships none
For what worth a known price on one
Wavering loyalty to the highest bidder for mere coin.’
Madhavi, unaware of my growing anger, laughed, and responded.
‘As usual, you prevail
But be warned, the next time
I will not let you off so easily.’
I turned dark and moody but Madhavi did not notice, for lovers of her art, men of wealth and repute, came over to join us under the tree. The men, careful to bring their wives along, rested their eyes firmly on Madhavi.
Unable to bear the situation any further, I sprang to my feet and announced my tiredness and, without waiting for her reply, strode off.
My man-servant ran after me. He held up the parasol against the sun, and when I boarded the carriage, he asked, ‘Should I fetch Devi Amah, sir?’
I turned to the tree, under which lately I had sat with Madhavi, to find her surrounded by an eager audience.
Seeing how she had given herself over to the adulation of her admirers, I ignored the man’s question and instead ordered the driver, ‘Take me home, and be quick about it.’
The driver flicked his reins and, with a small jerk, the carriage started to roll away. My man-servant, who was standing on the floorboard behind my seat, had looked back, for he cried,
‘Sir, I see Devi Amah waving anxiously, and now she shouts, though I discern not her words. Should we turn back?’
Sensing the driver rein the horses a little, I said, ‘Drive on!’
The man snapped the reins and clicked his tongue, and the horses shifted to a fast canter.
Considering the good news that I wished to share with her regarding my planned visit to Kannagi, a matter Madhavi had proclaimed to be of great import, my outrage magnified many times. Pride and anger are the twins that bring down even the mighty, say the sages. But her callous behaviour justified my anger. My fury.
On sandaled feet, I strode into the house, and when the servants gasped at this great affront to the gods of the household, I kicked off my dusty leathers. I headed for the staircase, discarding my turban and ripping off my golden shawl as I went, and hurried up to the bedroom.
Many confused and angry thoughts continued to gloat at my weakness and goad my anger. I had had enough of being a kept man. And as for her beauty and promises of pleasure, and the deep abiding jealousies in the pit of my stomach—I will quench all the pain in one sweep, endure the first few days of terrible anguish, and free myself from her hold. She could find another, for the nymph she was, and would waste herself even as men nourished her need for adulation.
As I sat smouldering on the bed, Madhavi hurried in with Vasantha-Mala at her heels. The hand-maiden placed a basin of water and towels on a table and with clasped hands and bowed head, stepped back and out of the room. Madhavi, who had picked up my dishevelled turban and shawl, folded and placed them on the divan.
‘You left without informing, my lord, but my friends detained me and I took some time to excuse myself from their company, after which I directly hurried home. I should have known the hot day to be quite enervating. Let me undress and wipe you down with cool scented water. Once refreshed, you’ll feel better.’
She moved towards the bed but I raised my hand and stopped her.
‘How silly of me, for you must be thirsty.’ She poured a drink. ‘Fresh lemon juice with honey to sweeten the bite, as you like it.’ She held out the drink, but I ignored her. Replacing the cup on the table, she positioned herself beside me and said,
‘Here, let me knead away your stress, for your frame stands sharp and with shoulders raised.’
‘Who gave you permission to sit?’
‘I did not know I needed permission to sit in my house.’ She spoke in a soft voice.
‘Your house? You have drawn the line I see.’
I was looking for an opening, even a petty opportunity to start a quarrel. Perhaps if anger took a better hold of me, it would provoke impulse, if not the courage, to walk out.
‘My lord, I don’t know what ails you but if it’s something I’ve said or done, I beg your forgiveness, whatever it might be, small or large. But please, do not take offence and render this auspicious evening dull.’ She rose and stood before me and offered the drink.
‘Even before you know the error, you apologise. Is your sincerity worthy of trust?’
‘Then, pray, share with me that which vexes you, so to make correct amends as best as I can. But please do not treat me as a stranger, for it breaks my heart.’
‘What was the meaning of your song?’
‘What song, my lord, for we sang many today and gave ourselves over to much joy.’
‘The last song, the last verse.’
‘I only vaguely recall, as it was spontaneous and made no lasting impression. Perhaps if you could sing your lines, they might trigger my memory and the words to ensue.’
‘You wish to play? So be it, here it is then:
‘Rowing his boat down the mighty Kaveri
Sisters Himavathi, Bhavani, and Bedavathi beckon
What new adventures, what new joys from the kavalan.’
‘Yes, now I recall, and your meaning, my lord?’ she asked.
‘As protector and provider, he adventures down the Kaveri and explores her tributaries, Himavathi, Bhavani, and Bedavathi. He braves dangers and rejoices in bringing home new treasures for his queen. That was my meaning.’
‘A lovely theme, my lord, and with deep meanings for man and woman. I recall now my response,’ said Madhavi.
‘Speak it then.’
To which she replied:
‘New adventures take him away
Leaving anxiety waiting lonely
Why idles the queen, descended from the Supreme?’
‘Your meaning?’ I demanded.
‘I sang in praise of Our Supreme Being Parasakthi, Mother of the Holy Trinity, and I asked Her, Mother to all, man, woman and child, but why is her daughter confined to hearth and home, when in the days of antiquity she was an equal to all? Why not let her share the dangers with her kavalan, her dear lover? This was my intent. Is there anything wrong, my lord, in my words or intentions?’
‘Let me continue with what I then sang, and it will reveal you,’ I said.
‘The poorer seek new pastures
The blessed find it all in one field
Former rolls the dice, latter remains on firm ground.
‘And by this, I meant the kavalan has to tempt danger, perhaps because he lacks blessings, for how else can he provide for his queen.’
‘Truly spoken, my lord,’ said Madhavi, ‘and I see no cause for annoyance thus far in what you sang or in my response.’
‘Thus far, you are right, but continue in its wake.’
‘As you wish, my lord,’ and so saying, Madhavi continued.
‘The Kaveri strains against her banks
She too wishes to breach her confines
Find new husbands to make happy.’
‘You have deviated here, Devi, in flow and theme. Explain your words and realise your dark intentions.’
‘By overflow
ing her banks,’ said Madhavi, ‘Kaveri wishes to make fertile new lands, and with new rich harvests many more households will rejoice in plenty. This was what I meant, my lord, and I don’t see errors in my words or intent.’
‘Really? Can it not also mean Kaveri wishes to deviate from her chaste path and consort with new husbands?’
‘Oh god, but that was not what I meant, my lord, but even if I did, what of it?’ said Madhavi, and defiance lurked in her tone. ‘In the days of yore, was it not the norm? And even now, a union between man and woman is a carriage, is it not, which needs at the least two wheels and of equal diameters. If one were humbler in girth, even with all the couple’s best efforts, they travel in circles.’
‘You think you are equal to your man?’
‘I know I’m equal,’ replied the devadasi.
‘My wedded wife, Kannagi, a chaste woman, thinks not and behaves not so, for even when she walks, she drops three paces behind so as not to even step on my shadow.’
‘And I have much to learn from her,’ said Madhavi, unwilling to yield, ‘younger as I am, to remain your shadow and enjoy your misplaced steps.’
We fell into a heavy silence. It was only at this stage that some sense seemed to have crept into her, for she quickened to make amends.
‘But let us not pursue this discourse, my lord, for I fear the path augurs not well ahead, and even if you discover pebbles where I meant pearls, please treat my turn of words as a tease, as you know how guilty I am in spontaneous humour.’
‘Humour? You, versed in the classics, do not see that what you propose contradicts our culture, our values, our chaste morality?’
‘Oh, my dear lord, truly you’re poor in humour,’ said Madhavi, and she laughed, making light of the matter. But to my ears her laughter was not an innocent sound but one of derision. And my suspicions multiplied tenfold when I heard her next words.
