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“one year with an outcast, you become an outcast,” had somehow become a terrible truth among them. None of Kausalya’s efforts to shed light was able to extricate that belief from those who held it.
Just like Manthara’s dubious influence, Kaikeyi’s dominion over the king had grown.
Kausalya had little to do with the king’s daily life. She had not objected openly during the first years. Year by year, however, Dasharatha grew more withdrawn, and now she could not speak to him in private. She was no longer welcome in his private quarters, a place he rarely visited anyway, being always at Kaikeyi’s. She regretted her compliance. She should have intervened sooner, while Dasharatha still gave her his ear. Now he simply would not listen to her. Even when the youngest queen wasn’t present, Dasharatha was reserved. From his actions, Kaikeyi’s will was clear. He never visited the other two queens, by day or night.
The exclusion stung. Terribly. After Rama’s birth, Kausalya thought the bad feeling would vanish, that her resentment would disappear. But it did not. It had only grown heavier over the past four years. Though Kausalya strived to be unaffected, there were moments when she barely could survive her loveless marriage. Her only solace was Rama, and she turned to him every day.
As Rama approached his fourth birthday, Kausalya was nearing fifty and treasured every moment of being his mother. Rama had gone to sleep knowing that he would be a bigger boy the next day. All his brothers were very excited about this event. “We are turning four!” they said, as if they were one being.
Bharata turned four the day after Rama, and Sumitra’s twins, Lakshmana and Shatrugna, two weeks later. Dasharatha had decided that on Rama’s birthday, the princes would ride through the streets of Ayodhya and give gifts to the citizens. Then they would serve the holy ones food, and only then would they officially be four years old.
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After her morning prayers at the altars, Kausalya went to Rama’s room. She had woken up early for the occasion, invoking special prayers and blessings for his success. She prayed he would excel in all the arts of warfare, scripture, and statesmanship.
When she entered Rama’s room, she released the attendant from service and walked to the bed. She was unsurprised to find Lakshmana, the older of the twins, fast asleep next to Rama. Both boys slept soundly, and she tiptoed around the room, arranging scattered toys, and finally she settled down by the bed. Seeing Rama always soothed her, whether he was awake or asleep. She wondered if her love for Rama would be different if Dasharatha had still claimed her attention or affection. Kausalya exhaled and watched the orange and red rays of the rising sun make their way upward. The gentle rays turned the white palace walls pink and peered in through the windows to color the sleeping inhabitants with their brightness.
Kausalya turned her face from nature’s beauty to behold her sleeping sons. Yes, sons. She thought of all four boys as her own; indeed, all the mothers felt this way. Dasharatha’s promise to be impartial had created magic after all. The sun’s rays tinted the boys’ faces, making their cheeks shine with a pinkish glow. Kausalya admired Rama’s smooth, round cheeks, his arched eyebrows, and his long, curling eyelashes. His hair, blacker than the kajal around the queen’s eyes, was scattered loosely around the pillow. The strands of hair coiled around his head like black serpents. Kausalya shuddered at the image and rearranged Rama’s hair. She prayed that no harm would ever befall him.
Her eyes moved to Lakshmana’s face. His skin was fair in contrast to Rama’s, but he had the same long eyelashes and black curly hair. In truth, their heads were resting so close together on the pillow, their curls were interwoven. A smile blossomed on Kausalya’s lips when she thought of the friendship between Rama and Lakshmana. It was rare to see them apart; actually she could not remember ever seeing Rama without Lakshmana nearby. Even now in their sleep, they did not let each other go. Kausalya reached over and stroked the boys’ clasped hands.
Rama stirred and looked up at his mother with sleepy eyes. “Don’t be sad, Ma,” he said, reaching up to touch her cheek with his little hand.
Kausalya’s heart skipped a beat. How did he see into her heart like this? She had not felt sad exactly, but his words made tears well up.
“Sometimes you can be so happy,” she said, “you have to shed a few tears.”
She stroked his soft cheeks. His eyelids fluttered, and he turned to his side, falling asleep again. Sumitra entered the room and Kausalya smiled warmly at her co-wife.
“Great Queen,” Sumitra said in greeting. “Our sons are still sleeping?”
“Yes, Sumitra. Look, they fell asleep playing.”
Kausalya motioned toward the bows and arrows, Rama’s favorite toys, scattered on the floor. Lakshmana still clasped a wooden arrow to his chest. The two queens exchanged a glance and laughed softly.
“I think these two are the real twins at heart,” Sumitra said. She moved a stray curl from Lakshmana’s face.
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“Yes. And I wager that Shatrugna is in Bharata’s chambers,” Kausalya said.
They spoke then, as they often did, about the bonds the boys had made with one another.
Lakshmana and Rama were inseparable, and so were Bharata and Shatrugna. Although Rama was not much older than his brothers, the other boys somehow looked up to him.
“Rama said,” and “Rama did,” were common phrases they used.
Kausalya was extremely thankful that there was no jealousy or rivalry between the brothers. She had feared that the dynamics between herself and Kaikeyi would replay between Rama and Bharata. But it did not. Kausalya had to credit Kaikeyi for this, at least. She did seem to genuinely care for Rama. The name Rama Chandra suited Kausalya’s son, for like the moon, his soothing presence pleased even someone as hardhearted as Kaikeyi.
As Sumitra and Kausalya were talking, the third queen suddenly appeared in the doorway, draped stunningly in a sari of her favorite color, red. She held a flower garland in her hand, and her hair was wet from her morning bath, cascading down her back. How did she manage to look so dazzling every moment of the day?
Kausalya turned away. She couldn’t help but feel that Kaikeyi was an intruder. Today she had brought a flower garland for Rama. Kaikeyi looked briefly at the two other queens and sat down by Rama’s side, placing the garland by his side. She took Rama’s hands in hers. Kausalya would not begrudge her son any affection he got, even from her rival. Love was love.
Kaikeyi gave Rama few quick kisses on his cheeks and whispered into his ear. Without another word to Kausalya, Kaikeyi departed. She left a tense feeling in her wake, as though she had made a parting insult and rushed out.
The sun was steadily rising. It was time to wake the princes.
Kausalya took Rama’s hand. “Rama, Lakshmana, wake up,” she prodded.
Lakshmana stretched his limbs and lifted his arms toward his mother. Sumitra lifted the half-sleeping prince into her arms and brought him back to his rooms. She touched Kausalya briefly on the shoulder as she left.
Kausalya sighed, an old intuition rising. It was not too late to intervene, to bring Kaikeyi back from her willful insolence. Dasharatha refused to speak of Kaikeyi in anything but defense. Kausalya had waited and waited, hoping someone else would bring the younger woman to her senses. But no one had done it. Perhaps no one else saw what Kausalya saw, that Kaikeyi’s behavior could very well have an impact on the whole kingdom. It was time for Kausalya to put aside her pride, pull together her inner resources, and face the younger queen. She would summon Kaikeyi to the House of Wrath. There they could speak without interference. There had to be a way to make Kaikeyi see the damage she was doing. Dasharatha was not, after all, the husband of only one woman. Kausalya had to set them free from this game. Kaikeyi had to acknowledge the deep injustice she seemed set on executing.
Anxious about the confrontation ahead, Kausalya’s heart raced, and she turned to her son, a surge of affection calming her. Rama yawned and stretched his arms, a toy arrow 188
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falling from the bed. Kausalya still remembered the day when Rama had taken his first step.
How excited she had been! How bizarre now that she should feel he was already growing apart from her. A vague apprehension regarding Rama’s future seized her. She shook it off and beckoned Rama to come for his morning bath.
She left Kaikeyi’s garland on the bed.
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chap ter 22
The House of Wrath
hen Kausalya stepped inside the House of Wrath, she heard the silence Wright away, for even it had a sort of sound. The House of Wrath had heavy curtains covering every doorway to block out light and block in sound. For several moments, Kausalya just stood there wondering if she had done the right thing. She had summoned Kaikeyi here—not because she was angry but because she wanted to meet Kaikeyi alone, without Manthara peering out from behind Kaikeyi’s back.
The hunchback had proven herself nothing but malevolent. Kausalya usually managed to find redeeming qualities in anyone. The only one she saw in Manthara was her hunchback. Kausalya knew it was a painful and deteriorating condition; it would not be easy to have a joyful disposition. Still, Manthara’s demeanor was consistently cruel, even if she had somehow managed to escape from the verdict that should have expelled her. Now Kausalya needed to reach Kaikeyi’s heart, to steer her away from her willfulness. Therefore, the Great Queen abandoned her hesitation and walked into the House. The first chamber was pitch black. She slowed her pace, walking carefully through the darkness.
Kausalya had used the House once years before, when there had been an unspeakable tension between herself and Dasharatha about their childless-ness. She remembered that the House had amplified her frustration and
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then released her from it. Or perhaps that had been Dasharatha’s doing. Either way, Kausalya had been grateful for a place that was separate from the palace, where she always felt the need to uphold her majesty. The House had been designed to give total privacy to whatever conflicts went on within. The original architect had also designed it to evolve from darkness to light. The various chambers were illuminated by increasing degrees of light.
The first chamber, the one Kausalya stood in now, was dark as a cave. She had to walk carefully, having no sight to rely on. The darkness within and without became one. The boundaries between the seen and unseen selves melted away. Kausalya became still, her boundaries melting away. She was a soul, not a body. She felt the presence of the all-seeing witness in her heart, the one who sat hidden in everyone’s heart. He was within Kaikeyi’s and Manthara’s heart. He was always whispering words of truth and light. One simply had to listen, although it often was all but simple. He would guide Kausalya, even now, in the right direction. But when she listened to his whispers, she heard Rama’s voice: “Play!” Kausalya smiled. Her little boy spoke with the innocence of his age. Only play mattered.
Kausalya, however, had other concerns, and she clung to them as she stepped into the next room, only slightly less dark than the first one. Again the heavy curtain closed behind her, inviting her firmly into the room. Her eyes sought the one source of light, a small candle, at the far side of the room, casting a slight shadow.
She would wait here for Kaikeyi. It would be easier to face the younger queen without having to face her unearthly beauty. Kausalya knew she should not be affected by something so superficial as the body’s appearance, and yet Kaikeyi’s beauty was one of the reasons they were here today. The king was not unaffected. And so Kausalya could not be either. Suddenly Kausalya longed for the last and final room in this labyrinth of Wrath. She knew it was as bright as the sunlight outside. It was this room one had to pass through once emotions were spent, bathed in the healing rays of the sun before exiting refreshed. Kausalya had heard it said that the final room, with its open ceiling, was similar to the sun cell in the prison, designed to bring in maximum sunlight. The general rule was to stay in the House of Wrath until morning, bathing then in the sun’s first rays. It took at least one night to bring forth hidden emotions and release them from one’s being. She wasn’t sure how long Kaikeyi would stay in her presence, but Kausalya had resolved to stay the night.
The silence was immense. Every flicker of the candle spoke of secrets that stayed within these walls. Kausalya’s hands went to her adornments. Another rule of the house was to leave titles and belongings aside, inviting the emotional and psychic aspects of one’s being to dominate. Could she bear to face Kaikeyi unadorned? She was Kaikeyi’s elder, a fact that Kaikeyi was fond of pointing out. Kausalya’s thick hair was transitioning from black to gray, a hallmark of her age. Sighing, Kausalya began removing the precious ornaments. If she hoped to reach Kaikeyi’s heart, she could not hide behind superficial veneers. She would meet Kaikeyi today as a woman, not a queen. She placed her golden ornaments carefully on the armoire in the chamber. She hesitated only briefly before setting aside the gem that expelled poisons. Kaikeyi was not Manthara.
As Kausalya waited for Kaikeyi to arrive, she rehearsed what she would say to Kaikeyi.
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The game had gone too far. Dasharatha, who was righteous in every other way, had fallen into the trap of favoritism. Why else were Kaikeyi and Dasharatha living as if only the two of them existed?
Kausalya hoped that anger would not come in the way. As Kaikeyi kept her waiting, the beginnings of wrath pressed on her calm. Her eyes searched for a distraction, but there was little to see but shadows. One room was helpfully stacked with clay pots, in case one needed to vent one’s fury. Kausalya picked one up, weighing it in her hands. She peered at the designs drawn beautifully into the pot. Even if she was angry, she would not be able to dash the pot to the ground. She knew Kaikeyi had no such reservation. Where was the younger queen?
Was it possible that Kaikeyi would ignore her invitation and not arrive? Kaikeyi thrived on conflict. Then again, she also seemed to greatly enjoy trumping Kausalya. She might take this as another way to prove her indifference. Kausalya could only wait and hope. Kausalya placed the pot down, balancing it on top of the stack again. It fell to the floor, cracking apart immediately. The wrath was upon her, directed toward herself.
How had she been so naive? She had relinquished her position beside the king—the one that she had built over nearly thirty years of faithful service—without saying a word. That was her mistake. In practice, Kausalya now had no husband, no one to lean on. Sumitra leaned on her. The servants leaned on her. Ayodhya leaned on her.
Seeking respite, Kausalya put her hand close to a flickering candle, and the warmth kissed her palm. She heard no sound, but she felt a shiver run up her neck. She turned around. Kaikeyi had entered the room, a figure cast completely in darkness. Even so, Kausalya immediately noticed that Kaikeyi had not chosen to remove any of her regalia.
Her crown stood on her head like spikes on a club. Kausalya felt naked, as she had feared she would. It was too late now.
She stopped her hands from reaching up to twist her unruly hair into a more regal position. Instead, she took a step toward Kaikeyi, saying, “Welcome.”
She instantly regretted the word. She did not want to create a feeling of ownership. This was not her place, but theirs. Though Kaikeyi had not said a word, Kausalya felt her whole being rise up in response to the other woman’s presence.
“Let’s take age out of the discussion,” Kaikeyi snapped. “Then you will not need to undercut me, and I will not need to point out your disadvantage.”
“And yet you just did.”
“You constantly try to educate me on Ayodhya’s etiquette. What you really mean is that I don’t belong here and that you do.”
“Frankly, I called you here so we could speak without Manthara’s interference. Not because I am angry.”
“Aha! So I am the angry, unpolished runt from Kekaya. You are the regal queen of Ayodhya, the saint who always says and does the right things.”
“We can both do the right thing, Kaikeyi. That’s why we are here.”
“Not because you finally are angry?”
“You wish me to be angry?”
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“Yes. By the thirty gods. Show some emotion for once. No wonder Dasha turns to me. A dead fish has more passion than you.”
Kausalya clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. She would not be roped in.
“Am I so abhorrent to you?”
“I did not come here to be questioned. Why are we here?”
“Do you really not know?”
“Do you have any answers, or must I supply them too? This could be amusing.” Kaikeyi crossed her arms. “We are here because you are jealous of me, because you cannot stand me, because I am more beautiful than you, because you have always resented me, because you dislike my presence in Rama’s life, because—”
“You may see many reasons to dispute with me, but I see only one. Your exclusive hold on Dasharatha, our husband. Or do you tell yourself that he is yours alone?” Despite her resolve, Kausalya felt the power of wrath spread coldly across her belly.
Kaikeyi took a step forward. “He has chosen to love me.”
“You are twisting the truth into an untruth, and only bad can come of it.”
“Of course, Great Queen. This is not about your desire to be the prominent queen, to sink your claws back into ‘our husband.’ No, this is for Ayodhya, for the good of all, for the sake of truth. You are so very self-sacrificing.”
“And I am here to warn you that if you do not see the value in what you mock, there will be a fire, one beyond your control.”
“That’s the nature of fire, after all. To be unpredictable. Fierce and strong. Unlike you, I love fire. I like feeling out of control. It’s what passion does. I choose it.”
“Very well. Your choices are yours. I beg you to simply acknowledge that Dasharatha has three queens. Allow him to spend time with us. Allow him to be the husband of three, not one.”
