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But even Sumitra’s life had changed when Kaikeyi descended on them like a storm.
The king was their sun and Kaikeyi the cloud. Their lives had become barren without their husband in their lives. Why couldn’t they all share him? It had worked so wonderfully for Kausalya and Sumitra in the days before Kaikeyi. This was a phrase that had gained a life of its own, that spoke volumes in only two words: “Before Kaikeyi.” Those were the golden times. Holding Sumitra’s hand now, Kausalya felt how deep her bond with the middle queen had become.
Because Sumitra was there, Kaikeyi was subdued. Kausalya did not know why. Because Sumitra does not hate her, Kausalya suddenly thought. But did Kausalya truly hate the youngest queen? There was no clear answer. Yet she knew that this day, this magnificent day, would change them all. Already there was more air to breathe for all of them. In the past, it had been painful staying too long in the same room as Kaikeyi, who seemed to begrudge sharing even the very air they breathed. But today was different.
Kausalya thought back to the earlier ceremony by the blazing fire, when the three queens had taken their places next to their husband and king. She was taken aback when she heard that the scriptures had names for each of them. When the words “Neglected Queen” were pronounced upon Sumitra, the middle queen glanced at Kausalya. In name, Sumitra was perhaps the neglected one, but Kausalya was the one who felt it more keenly. Sumitra had never expected and certainly never demanded the king’s love. To her, it came and went like a wonderful season, a memory to be treasured. Sumitra was all grace and gratitude.
Suddenly, Kaikeyi stood up, a flush in her cheeks.
“He is coming!”
Kausalya stood up too, though she could not yet hear footsteps.
Moments later, the king appeared in the entrance, holding a glowing vessel in his hands.
When he came toward them, he brought sunlight and life with him. Kausalya felt only the deepest love for him. For a few seconds the king stood there smiling, looking at them one by one, silently acknowledging each of them. He had never looked more handsome. The golden vessel in his hands, the fruit of the entire sacrifice, made him glow like the sun.
“This vessel came into my hands,” Dasharatha said, “from a being made of fire. Even Rishyashringa fell silent when this being arose from the fire. The being was vigorous and virile, his complexion red. His golden mane blazed around him like the fire itself. You can sense his energy in my hands.”
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The vessel in the king’s hands shone with an unearthly glow. When Dasharatha moved closer to them, Kausalya saw tears glistening in his eyes.
“Kausalya,” the king said softly, calling her to his side. “Drink half of this nectar.”
Kausalya lifted the golden vessel to her lips. Kausalya deserved this honor, but she almost expected Kaikeyi to assert herself and snatch the vessel from her. It was just the sort of scene Kaikeyi was capable of. But today was not like other days. Kausalya’s being filled with delight as she drank the nectar. It was the most sublime substance Kausalya had ever tasted: sweet, nectarous, energizing.
Dasharatha turned to Sumitra. “Drink half,” he said.
When Sumitra handed the vessel back to the king, her eyes were still closed, savoring the nectar. The king handed the vessel to Kaikeyi, repeating the instruction to consume half of the remaining nectar. Kaikeyi savored the nectar, as they all had. When she handed the king the vessel, he weighed it in his hand. There was one small portion remaining. The king and his three queens looked at one another. Who would finish the nectar that everyone in Ayodhya, including the king himself, had worked so hard to procure?
In a rare moment of harmony, they all turned to Sumitra. The greatest miracle was that they were all in perfect agreement. Sumitra would drink the final portion of the heavenly nectar. Tears rose in Sumitra’s eyes. She had not expected to be chosen. Beyond a sign of affection, none of them knew what this honor would entail, if anything.
Sumitra took the golden vessel in her hands and drank deeply until not a drop was left.
Dasharatha gave them his warmest smile and returned to the sacrificial arena with the empty vessel to complete the sacrifice. The queens sat down again, filled to the brim by the nectar. Kausalya’s hands instinctively went to her belly, already feeling the promise of life within.
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chapter 20
The Firstborn Son
Nine months passed. Since the epic ritual, all the queens were expecting.
Kaikeyi pressed her hands against her swollen belly and felt content. She hadn’t known that carrying a child would change her temperament. In the first few months when Dasharatha had banned her from riding, she had felt crazy; her belly had been flat and the child within but a dream. Now she felt the child’s movements and kicks and dreamed about her unborn son. She spoke to him. She sang to him. She would protect him at all costs. She reached for him, her hands on her belly.
Since the charge against Manthara, the old woman had been on her best behavior, outwardly respectful to all things Ayodhyan. Her act did not fool Dasharatha, but she had given him no further reason to object to her presence. Kaikeyi also refused to discuss Manthara with him or anyone else. Dasharatha did not like that there were forbidden topics between them; he said it increased his suspicion toward the hunchback. It couldn’t be helped. Kaikeyi pointed out that he himself had such restrictions with others. He did not, for example, entertain Kausalya’s words on how to treat Kaikeyi. The senior queen’s attempts to insert herself between them had failed. Kaikeyi had never been more secure in her position as Dasharatha’s beloved.
When Manthara came in for her daily visit, she always made it clear that she did not share Kaikeyi’s docility. Kaikeyi made her feel the baby’s
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movements. While Manthara’s bony fingers prodded the belly, she said, “You better pray your baby is born before Kausalya’s.”
“Oh, Manthara . . .” Kaikeyi was tired, heavy with the child she carried. The child was due any time. It was hard work growing a child in your womb, more tiring than Kaikeyi had imagined. It looked so easy when other women did it. But Kaikeyi felt all the changes in her body and the needs of the growing child. Never in her twenty-one years of life had Kaikeyi felt so content being passive. She felt as if she hadn’t had a single argument with anyone in the entire nine months. She floated in a pleasant dream bubble—except when Manthara woke her up with her piques.
“It’s not in my control,” she reminded the old woman.
“Yet there are things you can do,” Manthara said slyly. “Herbs you can take, mantras you can say, magic spells, sure to hasten the birth of this child.”
“Black magic?”
“White, black. What does the color matter as long as it does its job.”
“Manthara, please, do not pester me like this.” Kaikeyi placed her hands protectively over the swollen belly that was the home of her baby. She wouldn’t endanger his existence.
“If you don’t take action, you will regret it. Take steps to achieve your goal before it’s too late.”
Kaikeyi wanted to lash back and demand, “Your goals or mine?” But she did not feel sharp-witted enough to argue with Manthara, so she lied, saying, “I’ll think about it.”
In truth, she had already made up her mind. Not everything Manthara thought was golden. Kaikeyi would not tamper with her unborn child’s future. She might have aspired to bear the king his first child, but now she couldn’t muster the same determination. If the gods willed it, her son would be born first. If not, he might still be king of Ayodhya. Kausalya’s child might be born dimwitted or deformed. So many things could happen.
“You will regret your docility,” Manthara warned.
And Kaikeyi did, two days later, when she heard the news: Kausalya’s labor had started.
A rush of anxiety took hold of Kaikeyi; destiny was supposed to be on her side. Kaikeyi’s son was supposed to be the firstborn. If Kaikeyi went into labor now, she could still give birth before Kausalya did. But Kaikeyi’s baby felt none of her sudden urgency and was resting as peacefully within her as he always had. Kausalya would be first again. She was the first queen, the first wife, and now she would be the first mother. The fact of the situation tore at Kaikeyi’s heart. Why hadn’t she listened to Manthara? She got up from her seat and began to walk. Manthara watched. After walking in a circle around her quarters, Kaikeyi sat down again. She was too heavy with child to pace or jump on a horse, as she otherwise would have.
“I wish my baby would be born first,” she said quietly. “I want my boy to receive the king’s affection. I want him to be the favorite son.”
Thankfully, Manthara did not make it worse by chiding her or telling her it was her own mistake. She was kind and empathic in that way, ready to listen and comfort when Kaikeyi really needed it.
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In truth, she had no answer to Kaikeyi’s sudden concern. Would Dasharatha love his firstborn son more than Kaikeyi’s son?
“Did my mother worry like this about me before I was born?” Kaikeyi heard herself ask.
Manthara didn’t answer. She rarely did when it came to this topic.
“Did my mother love me?” Kaikeyi asked.
“Every mother worries,” Manthara said.
“Did she love me?”
“Does it matter?” Manthara demanded, with her most caustic face. “She got herself exiled. If you truly loved your child, you would not be so stupid. Remember that.”
Kaikeyi sighed. It was not exactly the sort of assurance she had been seeking.
A few hours later, a maidservant came running. “The king’s first son has been born!”
“So quickly?” With round eyes, Kaikeyi turned to Manthara.
“Sometimes the gods are merciful.” The maidservant’s joy was palpable.
Manthara turned her lips down. She had evidently not prayed for such mercy toward Kausalya.
“I want to see him,” Kaikeyi said.
This child was a rival to her own son. She wanted to find a reason to shun him, the way she spurned Kausalya. Manthara stood up, preparing to accompany her. Kaikeyi nodded to her, though they well knew that Manthara was not welcome in the other queens’ quarters.
Escorted by several servants, Kaikeyi made her way to a place she had never before visited: Kausalya’s inner apartment. It wouldn’t be hard to dislike Kausalya’s son; most newborns looked ugly, with shriveled, red skin and swollen eyelids. As the young queen and her servant neared Kausalya’s inner chambers, no one seemed to notice Manthara. Kaikeyi relaxed.
She needed Manthara by her side. As they entered Kausalya’s bedroom, Kaikeyi was not surprised to see Sumitra there. Sumitra’s belly was so enormous, it was shocking that she had not been the first to give birth. She was expected to deliver twins.
“I thought the boy would be here,” Kaikeyi said to Sumitra. Since the beginning of their pregnancies, Sumitra had welcomed Kaikeyi with new warmth.
“He will be here soon,” Sumitra assured her. “He is being bathed and dressed. Kausalya is also undergoing the cleansing ceremonies by the midwife and the priests.”
While they waited for the newborn, Kaikeyi allowed herself to speculate what the child would look like, his father or mother. She tried to conceal her malice towards the firstborn from Sumitra.
A maidservant appeared in the doorway, announcing the arrival of the prince, as if he was an eminent guest. The little prince already had an entourage. The woman who would be his wet nurse cradled him to her heart, followed by guards and attendants. Sumantra, the handsome minister who also was kind-natured, never took his eyes off the child. Kaikeyi and Sumitra fell silent. The newborn was asleep. He had a delicate face and an unusual luminescence. Kaikeyi’s thoughts fled. Sumitra too seemed speechless. The two queens gazed at the child; all thoughts of whom he might resemble were far gone. Kaikeyi had not known that a newborn child could be so exquisite. His cheeks were round and smooth, and soft 180
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black hair framed his face. Kaikeyi admired the curl of his thick eyelashes. His skin was the color of lotus leaves shining in the sun. Kaikeyi reached for the baby. The wet nurse reluctantly handed him over. As she received him, Kaikeyi felt a swell in her heart, as if this was her own son.
“He is remarkable,” Kaikeyi whispered, outlining the baby’s lips, nose, and eyebrows gently with her finger. “Look at his hands and feet. Every part of this little child is perfectly shaped. And he glows like an emerald. I have never seen anything like it. His pink toenails look like lotus petals against the hue of his toes.”
“He is opening his eyes,” Sumitra said, holding the infant’s hand.
They both fell silent, waiting for the boy’s first glance. The baby’s eyelids fluttered, but then remained closed. Kaikeyi began to gently prod the baby: “Wake up, little one.”
As soon as she said these words, the baby slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. His eyes were large and bright, as jet black as his hair. Tears rose in Kaikeyi’s eyes as the infant looked into hers. There was such love, trust and innocence in his eyes. “Kausalya is so lucky to have a son like you.”
She could never hate this child; she felt ashamed of having planned to.
The next moment, Kaikeyi felt a rush of pain run up her spine. A sudden flurry of movement in Kaikeyi’s womb startled her. She inhaled sharply.
“What’s wrong?” Sumitra asked.
“I think it’s my turn now. My baby is kicking!”
Manthara was immediately by her side telling her to breathe deeply.
When the sudden pain subsided, Kaikeyi gently kissed the baby on his cheeks and reluctantly handed him to Sumitra. Kaikeyi’s maidservants came to her side, readying to escort her to the birthing room. As Kaikeyi left, Kausalya appeared, followed by Dasharatha and a procession of priests humming auspicious hymns. Both of them looked eager to see their new son, hardly sparing a moment for Kaikeyi. Another contraction wracked Kaikeyi, erasing the outburst of jealousy she felt. The king noticed her grimace and cast a worried glance at her as she passed; she tried to smile bravely at him. This was his moment to see his dream come true. Having met the little boy herself, Kaikeyi would not begrudge him that. Dasharatha would be by her side in due time, she had no doubt.
Soon enough, Kaikeyi had no room for any thoughts at all. The pain of childbirth was not alleviated by Kaikeyi’s exposure to physical pain as a warrior. Kaikeyi had never felt so vulnerable. She clung to Manthara’s hand; she cried for her lost mother. Her respect for every mother in the world grew with every contraction she had. Finally, as the new day arrived in Ayodhya, her son was born. As the little one suckled at her breast, the exhausted Kaikeyi knew that her world had found a new purpose. She would never be as stupid as her own mother had been.
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chapter 21
A Mother’s Morning
Before Kausalya had a son, her desire for one had been theoretical, grounded in Ayodhya’s need. She had not imagined the profound transformation that would occur in Dasharatha and herself. Over the years, she had seen many changes in Dasharatha, the natural ones of aging and maturity and the unnatural ones, becoming a reckless lover in the arms of Kaikeyi. Kausalya’s own changes were not as visible to her, focused on the well-being of others as she was. The moment her son was born, however, she was reborn with him. Twelve days after his birth, he was named Rama Chandra, “Pleasing like the Moon,” and now she was, first of all, Rama’s mother.
The change in Dasharatha had begun on the day he found out his queens were expecting. He had placed his hands on Kausalya’s belly and made a solemn promise that he would not show favoritism to any of his sons. At any cost, he meant to prevent rivalry among them. Because he made the promise to Kausalya, she understood that he was determined not to favor Kaikeyi’s child. Just one day after Rama was born, Kaikeyi gave birth to Bharata. The two brothers looked alike, green hued and perfectly proportioned. But fate was a jokester: when Dasharatha was so determined to be equal, to distribute his affection equally, he got a son like Rama.
His resolve was challenged from the beginning; the moment he received
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Rama into his waiting arms, the bond was forged. Rama was the king’s dream come true.
Although Dasharatha tried to check the force of his natural affection, everyone else, even Kaikeyi, adored Rama. Indeed, they worshipped him. Dasharatha couldn’t stop the tidal wave of people’s affection for this son of his. Kausalya could only stand back and watch in amusement as Dasharatha stood bewildered by his own resolve.
Even as Kausalya became Rama’s mother first and foremost, her queenly duties continued. When she had taken two weeks to rest and recover from childbirth, she didn’t simply imagine that Ayodhya was falling apart. It really did. On her return, the golden altars needed a thorough polish, the maidservants a talking to, and the treasury a reorganization.
To Kausalya’s amusement, little Rani had taken charge in Kausalya’s absence. She was now sixteen years old, as flat-chested as a boy, and a force of nature. She had, with the fierce will of the survivor, carved out a position for herself. Over the years, in fact, the new dancing girls had provoked a change in the entire dance form. It became energetic and swift rather than fluid and sweet. It was impossible to ignore a dancer now as she displayed her art. Many times Kausalya had to simply put aside her prayers and tasks at the golden altars to be swept high by the force of the dancer. She knew, however, that it was not a complete success story, for many servants, riled up by Manthara in secret, shunned the new women. The saying that
