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Sumitra and I live in harmony. You can too.”
“Is that a threat?” the old woman demanded, again cutting in before Kaikeyi could speak.
Kausalya sighed. It seemed that everything she said would be mangled today. Were customs in Kekaya so different? “You must be tired from the journey,” she said instead. “Perhaps we shall speak another day.”
“Perhaps,” the girl said, raising her eyebrows and tossing her hair again.
She was not without some of her servant’s malice. Kaikeyi turned away from Kausalya the way a child rejects a displeasing toy. Though Kaikeyi had let her hunchbacked servant speak for her, she took the lead now. She mounted her black horse and pursued the king, calling his name. Her four guards on their white horses followed her meekly. Hearing Kaikeyi’s call, the entire party of men stopped and waited for her. Though the girl did not look back at Kausalya, her entire countenance seemed to say, “See, I am the queen here now. They harken to me.”
The hunchback bored her eyes into Kausalya, asking her to see. As it was, Kausalya could not take her eyes from the scene ahead. Kaikeyi rode up to Dasharatha, leaned in, and whispered something in his ear. His arm snaked around her waist. He pulled her close and pressed his cheek against her hair, as if it was not broad daylight in public view. Kausalya looked away. The flags on top of the chariots fluttered on the gentle breeze. It was a beautiful day in a prosperous kingdom, even if it did not feel that way anymore.
Kausalya turned away, feeling as brokenhearted as a young girl. It wasn’t just the woman in her that was alarmed; the passion between Dasharatha and Kaikeyi was too impulsive, too reckless, too much. It wasn’t good for the kingdom. Kausalya would have to use her power as senior queen to make Dasharatha see caution. He could love the new one, yes, but he must never give her power. Kaikeyi would leave it to rot in the hands of Manthara. And from what Kausalya had gathered, Manthara would gladly tend to the rottenness until the stink suffocated all of Ayodhya. Kausalya would not allow this, not as long as she stood at the heart of the kingdom, by Dasharatha’s side.
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chapter 9
The Perfect City
Each morning in Ayodhya began at the golden altars. It was the first of Ayodhya’s routines that Kaikeyi was introduced to. Kaikeyi joined the king and the other two queens in this ritual. On the first day, Dasharatha eagerly walked her around the temple, which he described as the heart of the palace. Like the palace, every home, however humble, had an altar, a place to pray and begin the day. Here in the inner sanctum, the thirty gods were worshipped, each with a shrine of their own. The holy three—Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva—were placed in the middle of the vault and, among them, Vishnu shone brightly. The deity, made of solid gold, depicted a perfectly carved Vishnu resting on the coils of Ananta-Sesha, the thousand-headed serpent.
The golden altars were magnificent; there was no doubt about it. But Kaikeyi immediately felt off-kilter. For one, Manthara was not by her side. Crippled or deformed ones were not allowed in auspicious places. Two, the temple was Kausalya’s domain. The senior queen was the first one there and the last to leave. When Kaikeyi stepped into the temple the first time, she thought at once of Kausalya’s embrace.
The fragrances that clung to Kausalya were all from the temple: camphor, sandalwood, and frankincense. The result was that she smelled pure, clean, and warm. Kaikeyi again was made to observe Kausalya in her element.
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Kausalya tended to the altars and the rituals with an easy, loving hand. Every morning the garlands were made fresh, the wilted flowers replaced with fresh ones. There was an elaborate structure to the way the incense and the fire lamps were lit. Fires within the temple constantly burned. One was for the king’s health and victory, another to remove threats from Ayodhya.
On the first day, after Dasharatha showed Kaikeyi each shrine, they sat in front of Vishnu’s altar. Following the ritual’s conclusion, Dasharatha wanted to speak about the gods.
Kausalya, Sumitra, and others whom Kaikeyi did not know gathered around the king as he spoke.
“Scholars, who have time for such things, take pleasure in arguing who among the gods is foremost. Vishnu and Shiva are the top contenders. In my youth I took great pleasure in studying the Vedas and discerning the truth for myself. You see, any person can use the Vedas to his advantage, and knowledge is a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. It is therefore not allowed for all people to have direct access to these secrets. We have to go through someone qualified, a priest who lives his life in study and contemplation.
“Vishnu, however, is the only god who does not live within the realm of the universe.
He is reachable only through a heart connection, which takes one to his abode, the Ocean of Milk. There he reclines in eternal rest on his black serpent, overseeing the cosmos. He is the most difficult to reach, and by my reckoning then, the lord of lords. Let us not forget that Brahma, the creator, grew from a lotus whose stem was connected to Vishnu’s navel.”
As the discussion took place, Kaikeyi looked at the king’s lips, and her mind wandered.
The first night with the king had made the deepest impressions on Kaikeyi. To her surprise, she spoke the language of passion, although she had no prior knowledge of it. What little she knew, she had gathered from observing Kekaya’s horses and overhearing her brother talk. Manthara was a closed book on this topic, because, Kaikeyi suspected now, she didn’t want to reveal her ignorance. With Dasharatha, Kaikeyi became a woman; he brought her to a new world. She belonged effortlessly. She could not describe it in words to Manthara, not even if she had wanted to.
Kausalya turned to Kaikeyi and asked, “Which god or goddess do you worship in Kekaya?”
All eyes turned to Kaikeyi. She quickly brought her mind back to the golden altars. The silk cloths rustled in the silence as people fidgeted, waiting for her response.
“We pray to Vishnu, like you do,” Kaikeyi answered. “But truthfully told, we do not observe rituals like this. We are horse people, nature people, and our days are spent out-doors. My father, the king, spends hours in the forest, learning what he can from the animals, whose speech he understands.”
“It took me a while to get accustomed as well,” Sumitra said, with a shy smile.
Then they waited, expecting Kaikeyi to say something more, perhaps that she recognized Ayodhya’s ways as superior. Kaikeyi said nothing.
The dancing girls began their worship, and this too was a new sight for Kaikeyi, though she was schooled in the arts. She herself had learned and excelled in the art of dance, and 80
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she recognized and understood the gestures and movements of the dancers. As she watched them for a while, moving from altar to altar, she felt the restlessness in her bones. She didn’t want to watch. She wanted to dance!
Instinctively, however, she knew that she could not. Ayodhya’s royalty were meant to be reserved and subdued. They were meant to watch and to be content as observers.
That afternoon, Kaikeyi settled into her new quarters, getting to know the servants assigned to her. The way people spoke here was slower, more formal, and decorous than in Kekaya, where the speech was efficient and minimal. Kaikeyi found that she lacked patience to hear Ayodhyans out. She wanted to be simple, direct, and quick. Similarly, she did not like sitting through long hours of prayer and worship, as both Kausalya and Sumitra did every morning. What was the purpose?
After just a few days of the morning routines, even the fragrances of the golden altars came to mean monotony to Kaikeyi. The smoke from incense gave her headaches, and when the priests flung another ladle of ghee on the fire, Kaikeyi longed to scream and run away, wanting the fresh wind in her hair, not the suffocating air left after the fire had devoured the rest. How could Dasharatha stand it?
Kaikeyi’s father had taught her that the Lord was most present in nature. The best way to connect with him was in communion with creatures like horses and other animals, who had a simple, uncomplicated knowing of the Lord above. Whomever she tried to articulate this to looked at her as though she was an uncouth illiterate.
There was much to learn here, and every lesson told Kaikeyi how little she knew, how uncultured she was, and what a little girl she truly was in comparison to Kausalya. This feeling only grew during the celebration of her marriage to Dasharatha.
A grand feast was arranged in Kaikeyi’s honor. It was much more spectacular than their wedding had been in Kekaya, though her father had spared no cost. Here, Dasharatha introduced Kaikeyi to a million important people, and when they sat down to eat, there was an overwhelming abundance of exquisite food. First they were served drinks: cool sugarcane juice spiced with lemon and ginger, creamy yogurt sweetened with honey and mango pulp, and rose-scented water. Then came dish after dish. The number of rice preparations alone astounded Kaikeyi. She tasted lemon rice with saffron and roasted cashews, rice with tama-rind and curry leaves, rice laced with cumin and mustard seeds. When she was about to taste her fourth rice, Dasharatha leaned over and told her to save space for all the remaining dishes. The feast unfolded in this fashion, unveiling twenty to fifty varieties of each dish.
Kaikeyi very soon could eat no more. It wasn’t that she had overindulged. She simply began to understand the magnitude of her own lacking. She watched Kausalya move easily among all the dignitaries, knowing what to say to make them laugh and be at ease.
Kaikeyi observed the older queen the way Manthara would, and she saw what Kausalya was doing: she was displaying her power. Every gesture and smile exuded smug satisfaction.
Though the feast was meant to welcome Kaikeyi to Ayodhya, all it did was cement Kaikeyi’s knowledge that she did not belong. Even the head priest, Vasishta, a holy one, looked long and hard at Kaikeyi, without a trace of feeling. Kaikeyi felt all the food she had consumed 81
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turn in her gut. But she was a warrior. Their ill feelings could not subdue her. As soon as Kaikeyi could, however, she excused herself and returned to her chambers. She came away from the feast in her honor knowing how small her chances were at besting Kausalya in her role as senior queen. Kausalya’s warning from the first day seemed true.
Had it been wise to alienate her?
In her quarters, she was surrounded by Manthara and the twins, Sukhi and Dukhi. With her usual flair, Manthara revealed things she had heard, things that proved Kausalya’s devious nature. Ayodhya was desperate for an heir, and Kausalya had instructed the servants to see Kaikeyi simply as a means to an end. The twins always agreed with Manthara in a suspiciously exaggerated manner. In turn, Kaikeyi shared what she had observed, revealing more of herself than she should have; she got exhausted by her own words. Intuiting this, she turned to silence and began reading a book on the Sun dynasty’s genealogy. She did not notice at once when the king arrived.
Sukhi and Dukhi stood up and moved away with Manthara. Kaikeyi looked up, seeing the king standing there admiring her, the way one admires a piece of art. It was Manthara’s art, for she was the one who had overseen the decoration of Kaikeyi’s person.
Now Kaikeyi allowed herself to be seen. It was a pleasant, even empowering, feeling. She saw in the king’s eyes that he thought her more beautiful than anyone else. Who was the more powerful queen now?
“I know almost all the kings now,” Kaikeyi said proudly to Dasharatha, closing the book. His was the last name on the page.
“Good. Then you’ll be on the same level as an eight-year-old Ayodhyan,” he said. He knew that she enjoyed being teased.
“Here I am, increasing my learning and you mock me.”
“I’m sure there are many things you know that I don’t,” he offered.
“Yes?”
The king waited until the servants had left before he moved closer to her and spoke. “You have a way with horses that makes me think you speak their language. Your balance and precision on horseback are astounding. You are quicker with your swords and knives than I am. You are fierce like a tigress. I pity the man who makes himself your enemy.”
“I sound wonderful,” she said. “I should be the queen!”
“You are a queen.”
“The third one,” she said.
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His scrutiny of her turned shrewd. She didn’t like it and amended, still in a joking tone,
“No matter. The kingdom is already mine. My son will be on the throne.”
“Is that so?” he asked. “Where is that son of yours then?”
The joking mood between them vanished, just like that. Manthara’s recent whispers gained ground within Kaikeyi. A strange look appeared in Dasharatha’s eyes. Without knowing the details of his desperation, Kaikeyi thought she knew: he expected her to produce a son. That’s why he had married her.
“That’s what they say, you know,” she said, and there was a tremor in her voice. “That all I am is a womb. Not a woman, not a warrior, and certainly not a queen to be respected. Only a womb.”
“Who said this to you?” he asked, sitting by her side. “It’s cruel and unnecessary. I will have them reprimanded.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Would you reprimand your senior queen?”
“Kausalya?” he said with a smile and leaned away. “Kausalya would not say such a thing.
It’s tasteless. Kausalya is not.”
“Your wise and royal senior queen has an unpleasant side that you, being a man, obviously have not seen.”
“Did Kausalya herself say this to you?” he challenged.
“No, but . . .”
“Let me guess. It was Manthara.”
“Don’t turn this around on Manthara!”
“Why not?” he demanded, raising his voice. “I’m not blind. I see the way she looks at us, at everyone in Ayodhya. You have no proof that Kausalya said those words. This is exactly how baseless rumors take root. I tell you this. Manthara is the cruel one, throwing unnecessary barbs at you.”
“I know her better than you,” Kaikeyi said. “If you came here to sing the praise of your darling Kausalya, why don’t you go spend the evening with her?”
“Maybe I will!”
He stormed out of Kaikeyi’s quarters.
Kaikeyi was alone. Perhaps she always would be. For who in this new place would be her friend? Thinking that the king would be with her through the night, her companions had left. Kaikeyi was too proud to call them back. Kaikeyi thought about Kausalya, her rival.
Was the king with Kausalya at this moment? The thought made her whole body churn with unease. She could not tolerate it.
As she lay alone in her royal bed, Kaikeyi understood how vulnerable she was. From now on, she had to do everything to protect herself. She would have to move forward cautiously with the emperor. He was more powerful than she was, an experienced man, and she just a girl. When she relived his touch, a thrill ran through her body. But she could not be a fool.
The next morning, Kaikeyi decided not to attend the morning prayers. Instead, she 84
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would pray in her own way. With blunt determination, she donned her familiar leather vest and breeches, noting the sweet scent of dry sweat in the familiar gear. She deftly wore it all, leaving her long hair loose, hurrying to get ready before anyone might apprehend her—or, more strictly speaking, Manthara.
The old woman had been an absolute terror, domineering Kaikeyi like never before. If Kaikeyi sensed her lack of skill and culture, Manthara was on a mission to rectify it. She would not rest until Keyi was superior to the other queens, and so Manthara obsessed over every detail of Kaikeyi’s appearance, frantically ordering her dresses and jewelry and throwing out perfectly functional ones. Kaikeyi almost wished she’d listened to Yuddha who had advised her to leave Manthara in Kekaya. The old woman showed no sympathy when Kaikeyi complained of her dreary duties, meaning the prayers in the mornings and the special days when extra observances required longer rituals, which seemed to happen every other day.
Just the other day Manthara had forced Kaikeyi to listen as she went on and on. “We must get rid of all these light, immature colors,” Manthara had said, as though she was discussing a serious matter of state. A big pile of discarded garments lay at her feet. “We will set you apart with bold colors, like violet, crimson, dazzling white—”
“You seriously think a color palette is going to give me the position of primary queen?”
Kaikeyi had countered.
“Don’t take that tone with me. We cannot rest until we’ve secured your position.”
She meant that quite literally. Manthara had turned into someone crazy; she never slept, except when she got her massages with the pungent medicated oils, which made her lazy and still, like a resting snake. Even then she would call on Kaikeyi, instructing her with closed eyes, assigning this reading and that reading, which would help Kaikeyi become someone of worth. At other times, Manthara stole around the palace, seeking the places that were forbidden to her, like the golden altars. More than once, she had been escorted back to her assigned quarters by apologetic servants. One of the Ayodhyan servants had even asked Kaikeyi if Manthara was hale in mind, for she inquired about the strangest things, like where in the gardens certain flowers grew. The Ayodhyans obviously didn’t know the medicinal value of certain plants. Manthara was seeking lily of the valley, the beautiful wildflower with its white teardrops. The royal physician would help distill its essence and administer it to Manthara for her heart to function.
Feeling as if she was four or five years old again and sneaking out to ride with her brother, Kaikeyi scurried past the servants in attendance. Sukhi was one of them. Kaikeyi placed her finger over her lips, indicating the need for complete silence. Sukhi did not need further instruction, used to all her years in Keyi’s service. Kaikeyi’s four guards would be at the main entrance. Though they were from Kekaya, they took orders from Dasharatha now. So Kaikeyi headed for the servants’ entrance on the side. She peeked out from the archways, looking right and left, expecting to hear the sound of Manthara’s cane at any time. It was ridiculous—she was queen of Ayodhya, and yet Manthara had her in the same iron grip as before.
