The One Who Swam with the Fishes

by Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan

  He looked at me with infinite kindness. ‘I do not need another wife.’

  ‘Well, your servant then. I’ll be your servant.’

  ‘I do not require a servant.’

  I stopped trying to crawl away and instead went to him and threw myself at his feet, gripping his ankles. ‘Please, please, please,’ I said. I was crying so hard, the sand underneath my face clumped and stuck to my cheeks. I hated myself just then, this piteous mewling creature who had no self-respect. I hated myself more than I hated him.

  ‘You need to go back, little bird,’ he said. ‘It is not I who wish it but the gods. They need you to fulfil your destiny.’

  ‘I don’t want a destiny!’

  ‘You can’t choose the fate that is written on your forehead.’ He bent down and lifted me up gently, ignoring my flinch at his touch. ‘Nor can I tell you what that fate is. It will be to your liking, however. You will never be a fisherwife’s drudge again. That much I promise you.’

  ‘But I’d rather stay here.’ My throat was raw from sobbing and the words hurt as I choked them out.

  ‘This island will not be forever. Nothing is. But you can leave something behind.’

  I looked at him with hope. Maybe leaving something behind would be a way of returning. But he seemed to guess my thoughts and shook his head. ‘No, you will never see the island again. But your son will live here as long as I do.’

  It took me a few seconds to respond. ‘I don’t have a son.’

  Dvipaa-ma came forward and pressed her hands to my belly. ‘Yes, you do.’

  In front of my shocked eyes, my stomach stretched and expanded till it was high and proud, as though I had a pumpkin under my skin, seeming to throb as I looked at it. I began to scream – loud piercing sounds that didn’t seem like they emerged from me, setting wing across the hush of the island.

  ‘Quiet. Quiet! Quiet!’ Dvipaa-ma slapped me across the face and I stood there, looking down at my belly and holding my face, all that I loved and trusted turning into nothing but sand before me.

  ‘Little bird,’ said Parashara, reaching for me and holding me against his chest. ‘Little bird, you have trusted me before, and I ask you to trust me now. I will do you no harm, and indeed, this act will do you good.’

  ‘How?’ I asked, moving my face away from him. The feel of his hands, cool and a little dry against my skin made goosebumps rise up where he touched me. I wanted more than anything else to retreat quietly somewhere where I could deal with all of this without these people, these demons, these false idols I once loved, in front of me.

  ‘How? Why, you shall have a great and noble son, of course. A son who will be very important in history to come.’

  ‘But I am not even married.’ I looked up at him, tears still streaming down my face. ‘Unless we are married now, Parashara? Are we?’ I would not have put it past him to wed me without letting me know.

  He glanced at Dvipaa-ma standing behind me and began to say something before he stopped and shook his head. ‘No, little bird. Your destiny doesn’t lie with me. Our chapter in your story is over.’

  ‘But how can I leave now – unmarried and with a child?’

  ‘Of that, have no worries. You will be unmarried, you will be as you were before, and your child will stay here with us, his father and his mother.’

  I ran my hand down my belly and felt the questing foot of something inside. I felt nothing for it, not even curiosity, not even wanting to name it. I didn’t think my baby, I thought the baby, the son that was to come out of me. I thought how awful that he was conceived, how awful he has already made my life.

  The pains came shortly after, rocking me with their force … nothing in the world had ever hurt so much. My narrow hips felt like they were being broken, all of me inside out. I screamed and screamed till even my throat could take no more, and then with a great feeling of relief and a sharp cry that wasn’t mine, the infant was finally born and held in Dvipaa-ma’s lap as she dabbed my forehead.

  ‘You did well,’ she said, and set the baby down beside me as she went to fetch Parashara. I could see him from where I lay – he was a good baby, quiet, except for his first wail, and I saw his soft hands clench and release at the air, his head turning, looking for something – me? – as he made little snuffling noises.

  I couldn’t bear to love him so I turned my head away. He was the blood sacrifice I made.

  Parashara came to sit by me as I lay there, my eyes almost closing, and he stroked my forehead while Dvipaa-ma cleaned me.

  ‘Almost done, little bird,’ he said, and smiled. He was old again, his face wrinkled and lined, his beard even whiter than before. I glanced at his face and looked away.

  ‘You would not have me pretend on the last day we know each other?’

  I shook my head. I was tired, so tired. I wished they’d go away and let me sleep.

  ‘You are ready to go home now,’ he said. ‘When you return, your village will not remember that you left, only that they are glad you have returned. You will rejoin your life and the destiny that is waiting for you.’

  ‘What if’ – my lips were cracked and dry so I licked them and tried again – ‘what if I don’t want a destiny?’

  ‘You have the greatest destiny of them all whether you like it or not,’ he said. ‘You will be the mother of kings, founder of a great house. Look out for it, for Fate will reveal herself to you. She doesn’t come open-handed but as a shadow you spot from the corner of your eye.’

  ‘How will I know?’

  ‘You will know. There, that is my last promise to you. When the time comes for the path ahead of you to be crossed, you will have no doubt of it.’

  Dvipaa-ma brought the baby to us. ‘Your son,’ she said to me. ‘Would you like to hold him one last time?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t want anything to do with him.’

  ‘Ah, now, don’t be hasty.’ Parashara took the baby himself and moved the cloth so he could look into his son’s face. ‘You will need him one day, even if you don’t now.’

  ‘What use will I have of a child?’ I asked, sitting up and drawing my knees to my chest.

  ‘He will not be a child when you need him. He will not be a child for longer than this hour. The potion I will give you now will also make a man of him. We will call him Dvaipayana, island-born, and a nod to his other mother.’

  Dvipaa-ma reached out and stroked the infant’s face, her toothless mouth turning upwards in a smile. She looked like a doting old granny and I was suddenly sick of the sight of them all.

  ‘Call him what you like,’ I said. ‘Is that the potion? Let me have it and be away.’

  ‘It will hurt,’ cautioned Dvipaa-ma as she handed me a cup.

  ‘I have just given birth,’ I reminded her, one last twist of my words to mock her childless state, because I finally truly realized I was never coming back here and I could burn all my bridges if I chose. I knocked the potion back in one gulp. It lit me up from the inside, like I was on fire, and then it travelled all over me, pushing and pulling my bones, lengthening my spine even as I touched it, growing my hair so it fell lower than my hips. It hurt and it didn’t hurt, it felt like I was propped up with poles that pulled and pushed me, so it was a stretching pain, and when it stopped I staggered forward, gasping.

  ‘A beautiful young woman,’ said Parashara, looking at me and smiling. I glanced down at myself: my waist bent and curved, the ins-and-outs I had so wished for. My chest behind my sari was more filled out than before, even though I still didn’t have a proper bosom. I was taller too, looking down at Dvipaa-ma from a greater height. ‘Oh,’ I said, and noticed that my voice no longer was the lilting high tones of a girl child but with low modulation, like a woman.

  ‘I think you will be well pleased with my gifts.’ Parashara took one last longing look at me and then turned to Dvipaa-ma, saying, ‘Have you not dosed that infant yet, Dvipaa?’

  ‘He is so small.’ She held him close to her, baby face against he
r own wrinkled one.

  ‘He is born early so he may be a man. It is for the best.’

  The baby reached for the cup of potion before it could even touch his lips, he was that hungry. And I cupped my hands over my ears so I didn’t have to hear him scream. Have you ever heard a baby scream with pain? It is a sound you hear in your nightmares sometimes – the first sounds of its trust in the world breaking.

  ‘Mother.’ A tall, serious-eyed man stood before me, his mouth stern and still.

  ‘I…’ I wasn’t sure how to continue.

  ‘If you need me, mother, remember to call on me.’

  ‘What will you do till then?’ I asked, despite myself. Was this the baby I had made? This man? This stranger? I saw he had my eyes, set deep in his face, his father’s nose. He was older than I was.

  ‘I will learn under the guidance of my father and others. Farewell.’

  He touched my feet, and then touched Parashara’s. When he got to Dvipaa-ma, she caressed the top of his head and he looked up and smiled his first smile at her. ‘Mother Dvipaa,’ he said, ‘I thank you for all your kindness.’

  I felt a bit left out. What about me? I had given birth to him after all. But soon he was gone, striding out of the cave and into the forest with sure, strong steps. We all watched him go and when Parashara turned back to me, I could have sworn his eyes were a little wet.

  ‘Well then,’ he said, ‘I think it is time for you to leave now, little bird. Matsyagandhi. Although your name should be something more appropriate now.’

  He led me to the water. My old boat bobbed about in the waves, waiting for me. I sat in it and turned around to impress this place on my mind and temper it in my memory to keep only what I wished to remember. Dvipaa-ma had not come out so it was just us two. Parashara touched the top of my head, where my hair parted.

  ‘Be strong for whatever life might throw at you,’ he said and it sounded like a blessing. ‘Be strong, and always speak the truth to yourself, even if you deceive others, O Satyavati, one who is true.’

  And with that, before I could tell him how much he broken the girl inside me, he gave the boat a push, and I was set adrift, watching him till the island grew misty and he a dim figure, till I reached the banks of our village and could see them no more. He always did like the last word.

  I never saw the sage Parashara again.

  Now

  That evening, the girls dress me in gold and red, bride’s colours, lacing me into my vatkala so tightly that I have to draw short shallow breaths and my breasts are propped up so high, I can see them just by tilting my chin. I’m a cow being taken to market, and my only job is to stay still so they can polish all of me for the best price. They don’t say much; even the talkative Ila is somewhat pensive as she bathes my feet.

  Finally, I cannot bear the silence any longer. ‘Why am I being dressed up like a young bride?’ I ask, and though I meant to sound jesting, playful, my voice comes out shrill and the word bride stays and echoes around the room.

  ‘His Majesty wished it,’ says Pari, on her knees next to Ila, checking my skirt for loose threads.

  I look down at her face – my first girlfriend. ‘Am I so offensive now, Pari? Do you dislike me because I asked for what I deserved?’

  She shakes her head no, still looking away from me, and then her chin tilts up and she looks me full in the face. ‘I think you should have been content with getting as far as you did. And our young prince did you no wrong. Why should he be denied his birthright because of you?’ Fisher girl, she thinks but does not say.

  ‘Why should my future children – blameless as well – be forced to be mere princes because their mother was not courageous enough to ask for what was theirs?’

  ‘Your children will be nothing but fishermen at this rate.’

  ‘But honourable fishermen.’

  Pari has risen to her feet and I, not liking looking up at her face, have risen as well. Behind me, Mo, who is doing my hair, utters a little tch of irritation. I continue, ‘Better my children are fishermen with pride, knowing that another fisherman has not been given preference over them, than they rot as second heirs to a throne.’

  Pari’s turned away from me and her arms are crossed across her chest. I reach out for her and touch her shoulder. ‘Pari, listen. If this happens, if I am made queen—’

  ‘Which you will not be!’ she spits out. ‘The king would never foresake his son. The prince Devavrata is everything to him.’

  ‘If I am made queen,’ I continue, ‘I will need some queen’s ladies. I want you as my maids, you and Ila and Mo. I’ll do everything I can for you. It won’t be a Kaarika-bi life, and you will be rich and well cared for.’

  ‘Oh,’ Ila breathes, and I turn to smile at her as she gazes at me, rapt, her hands clasped underneath her chin.

  ‘Even a beggar can promise you a meal fit for a king were he ever to receive it,’ says Pari, but I notice her arms uncross and she looks at the other girls. Mo looks satisfied, Ila is grinning broadly.

  ‘As you please,’ I say, sitting down again. ‘I cannot force you.’

  Pari comes back and sits down by my skirt again. ‘I’ll have a dress allowance to buy you fine clothes?’ she enquires casually.

  ‘And buy yourself some fine clothes too,’ I say, already feeling magnanimous and kindly.

  ‘Hush,’ says Mo, suddenly. ‘People are approaching.’

  ‘Is it the king?’ I ask, and Pari listens, tilting her head. ‘I think not,’ she says. ‘I don’t hear the drums.’

  The door to our tent opens, and to my delight, my young guard friend is standing there, looking out of breath and grand in a new uniform.

  ‘Baana!’ I say, pleased.

  ‘My lady.’ He bows properly to me and to the others. ‘My ladies.’

  ‘What brings you here, boy?’ asks Mo. ‘The lady is dressing and cannot be disturbed.’

  ‘I have been sent to escort your brother, my lady. He is being set up in the tent next to yours.’

  I’m a terrible sister. I have not spared Chiro a moment’s thought since the king’s proposal. Here I sit in borrowed finery and there he is, my poor brother, probably ill and weak and wondering where I am. ‘Take me to him,’ I say, and Baana bows.

  As we’re going outside, he whispers to me, ‘You do look nice, my lady.’

  I laugh and notice the tips of his ears going red. ‘So do you,’ I say sweetly. ‘Your uniform makes you look very grown-up indeed.’ He seems to have forgiven me for my little bit of manipulation the last time we met. He takes me to the next tent, which is full of voices.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten all your kindness to me, Baana,’ I say. ‘I will make sure I do what I can for you.’ I touch his arm and he draws back, blushing, as I pass by him.

  There, sitting on a bed in the middle of the tent, eating figs as though he was born to do so, is my brother Chiro. Ill? Weak? Not a whisper of it. His cheeks are round and rosy, his hair is standing on end, and he too has been given fine clothes to wear. He is playing a game involving an elaborately painted board across which they are moving with two hard dried betel nuts with a young man who is also sitting on his bed, and they are both so involved they don’t notice me till the guard standing by them clears his throat. Then they both look up.

  The young man is so startlingly handsome, I step back a bit. Luckily, I am saved from gaping at him with my mouth open by Chiro leaping across the room and throwing his arms around my waist.

  ‘Mut-di!’ he says. ‘Isn’t this nice?’

  I murmur, ‘Remember to say Satyavati,’ and he looks up at me and winks and my heart fills with love for him. Oh Chiro! How could I have ever forgotten about you, even for one day?

  ‘Very nice indeed,’ I say in my public voice, moving back from him and putting my hands on his shoulders to examine him at arm’s length. ‘Very nice for some, Chiro sir, when I’ve been going grey with worry about you. What our mother must be going through, I cannot say.’

  ‘She’s
fine, they sent her a message.’ Chiro waves one hand. ‘And I’m fine too. Practically recovered.’

  ‘So recovered, in fact, that you’ve been beating me at this terrible game.’ The young man who has also risen with my entry bows in my direction and I respond by bending my head too.

  ‘It’s called chauper, di, you must try it!’ Chiro begins to tug me towards the board by my arm.

  ‘Your brother is perhaps not the best at introductions,’ says the young man as I am yanked closer. ‘Allow me. Crown Prince Devavrata, son of Shantanu, and perhaps the biggest spoke in your plan.’

  The crown prince is facing me, and all I can think is I’m so glad I’m wearing these clothes. People might think a woman interested in clothes is frivolous, but would you say the same thing to a suit of armour? Clothes are a woman’s weapon; behind the soft silk and stiff embroidery lie well-oiled plans and beating hearts that see clearly into the future.

  ‘Your Highness,’ I say, ‘you should have given us some notice of your coming. I would have been better prepared to meet you.’

  He glances at me, and unlike most men, his eyes don’t catch and hold, they skim off my surface like a stone on a lake. ‘Give notice?’ he says. ‘At my own father’s camp? You overstep yourself.’

  ‘I apologize, Highness. But the king – your father – has given me my tent to have as my own, even if the whole camp belongs to him. And since Chiro here is my younger brother, I act as hostess on his behalf as well.’

  I walk calmly over to the low table which has some drinks on it and pour him a glass of honeyed buttermilk, Chiro’s favourite beverage when he can get it. ‘Allow me to offer you a drink,’ I say, smiling at him sweetly. It’s hard to summon up maternal feelings for someone who is your age and vividly, extraordinarily handsome into the bargain, but I have to remind him of who I am and what I intend to do. Wed and bed his father.

  He waves away the glass and looks at me, his head tilted to one side. He’s looking into my eyes so intently, I want to look away, but I force myself to keep a smile on my face and meet his gaze.