Pregnant King Read online

  ‘It is our mind playing tricks on us. Let us accept the truth of the moment. Here is a man. There is a woman. They claim to be husband and wife.’

  Sumedha overheard the Danda-Nayak. What was he saying? A woman in the next cell? What had happened? He saw confusion in their eyes. Something had happened. Something strange. But what?

  ‘Does this disgust you?’ Somvat asked Sumedha, when they were finally brought together and led to the king’s court. The streets were lined with people. The very same who had abused them the previous day. Now, they were silent. Afraid. Were these two boys shape-shifting demons? Would they curse our children for making fun of them? Forgive us.

  Sumedha and Somvat, lost in each other’s thoughts, were oblivious of the crowds. Somvat waited anxiously for Sumedha’s reaction. Sumedha replied. ‘Not at all.’ A secret prayer had finally been answered. Somvat heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Has your heart changed with your body?’ Sumedha asked.

  Somvat replied, ‘Look into my eyes. Tell me if there is change.’

  There was no change.

  ‘How did this happen?’ Sumedha asked.

  ‘I am not too sure. It has happened. Now at least we have hope.’

  ‘Did you let this happen only to save our lives?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Sumedha felt a change in Somvat. In himself too. Not change—the new body had forced a discovery. An acknowledgement of a truth. A warm feeling, hidden deep in their hearts. He remembered the days they spent running in the fields, dancing on the riverbanks, working together in the temple, eating together, happy just to see each other. He remembered those naps in the temple corridors, the dappled sunlight streaming through the windows, making Somvat’s skin glow. He remembered those nights when he could not sleep, wondering what life would be after marriage, when they would be forced to live apart.

  ‘Will you treat me differently now?’ asked Somvat.

  ‘Why should I?’ replied Sumedha. He looked at the chains, the guards, the lions at the gate they were passing through. ‘I am not afraid anymore.’

  ‘I am not afraid either,’ said Somvat.

  the hearing

  By force of habit, the Danda-Nayak brought Sumedha and Somvat to the audience chamber of the queen. He was stopped on the way. ‘Take them to the maha-sabha,’ said the guards.

  In the pillared hall, surrounded by Brahmana, Kshatriya, Vaishya and Shudra elders, sat Yuvanashva on his golden seat with red cushions. The crown was placed on his head. In his hand was the golden bow. Realizing how important this moment was for their husband, Simantini and Pulomi decided to sit beside Yuvanashva and wave the yak-tail fly whisks. Keshini sat on the floor behind and held the ivory parasol over his head.

  Yuvanashva had finally taken charge of his destiny.

  At long last, a dispute in Vallabhi would be settled by a man. The elders of the four varnas, the local village chiefs, leaders of caravans, wandering bards and sages poured in to witness this momentous occasion.

  The servants had a tough time providing seats to everyone. The rules of protocol had to be maintained so that no one took offence. Elders had to sit closer to the throne. High-ranking Kshatriyas had to be provided rugs made of blackbuck skin. Low-ranking Kshatriyas were given ordinary deer-skin rugs. Brahmanas had to be provided mats. Vaishyas had to be provided cushions. The Shudras sat on the floor, behind the throne. Both Matanga and Asanga sat on mats close to the throne so that they could hear both the king and the accused clearly. Mandavya sat to the left of the king. Vipula sat to his right.

  Everybody wondered how Yuvanashva would settle this dispute. It had stoked a great deal of speculation in the streets. Everyone had an opinion. It had added spice to the otherwise orderly humdrum life of Vallabhi.

  The two accused were brought before the king in chains. Had it not been for the chains, they looked like newly-weds. Sumedha in his white dhoti and uttarya lined with gold. Somvat with his red sari, yellow uttarya and jewellery that belonged to the Matrikas.

  Vipula asked Sumedha, on behalf of the king, “Tell me the truth. Did you enter the temple with a man dressed as a woman or with a woman who was your wife?’

  Sumedha replied, ‘I came in with my soulmate, first wrapped in a woman’s garment and now wrapped in a woman’s body.’

  ‘Trying to be a clever twister of words, are you?’ said the Danda-Nayak, striking his staff on the floor. ‘Speak plainly here. This is the king’s court not a congregation of poets.’

  Vipula said, ‘Look on your right. That is Somvat’s uncle and aunt, his cousin, and his cousin’s wife. They say Somvat is a man.’

  Sumedha said, ‘They lie.’

  Vipula said, ‘Look to your left, Somvati. There is Trigarta. He says he helped you plant your seed in his wife’s womb. She is now pregnant with child. The sapling of your seed. Do you deny this?’

  Sumedha looked at Somvat. Somvat replied, from beneath the yellow uttarya that covered his head and face, ‘No, I don’t.’ There was uproar in the maha-sabha. Disbelief. Shock. The boy had admitted he was not a woman, but a man.

  ‘Silence,’ shouted the Danda-Nayak.

  ‘I did plant the seed in Mamata’s womb. That was then. Now, I am a woman. A chaste woman. The wife of Sumedha,’ said Somvat.

  Vipula said, ‘Look behind you, Somvati. There is a widow there. She covers her face with a plantain leaf out of respect for the king. Behind her are two young girls. One of them, she says, was to marry Sumedha and the other was for you. What is to become of her if you say you are a woman? Who will marry her now?’

  ‘Maybe,’ shouted one Kshatriya elder, ‘Sumedha must marry her too. Then he will have three wives. Two women and a man.’ Everyone laughed.

  ‘Silence,’ shouted the Danda-Nayak.

  ‘Circumstances have transformed me into a woman. This transformation will have consequences. I do not know who will marry Kaveri’s daughter. All I know is that I will be ever-faithful to my husband.’

  Sumedha held Somvati’s hand. ‘She is my only wife. I will look upon no other.’

  Silence in the court was replaced by a buzz of conversation. Like a swarm of locusts passing over a placid lake.

  ‘May I speak,’ said the Acharya of Tarini-pur. The king nodded his assent. Silence returned to the court. ‘Somvat is the only son of his late father. He is obliged to father a son, a child at least, otherwise his father will be trapped forever in the land of the dead. For the sake of his ancestors, he cannot be allowed to be a woman, even if his body is of one. As a child, he performed the funeral rites. Offered rice cakes to the Pitr, promised them he would father children, help them return to the land of the living. He cannot go back on his words now.’

  Yuvanashva thought of his ancestors. And the crows. ‘Do you wish to abandon your forefathers?’ Yuvanashva asked Somvat.

  ‘I have already fathered a child,’ said Somvat.

  ‘That is not your child. It belongs to Trigarta. You sold your seed for a cow,’ said Vipula.

  ‘I don’t have an answer then, Arya. All I know that I have the body of a woman now. How can I do what only a man can?’

  ‘By living as a man. Marrying a woman. Denying this aberrant womanhood imposed upon you by circumstance,’ suggested Yuvanashva.

  ‘How will I father children?’

  ‘Just like Trigarta. Through niyoga. Maybe by inviting Sumedha to your wife’s bed.’

  ‘I have accepted Sumedha as my husband. To abandon the husband is adharma for a wife.’

  ‘To abandon your ancestors is adharma for a son,’ said Vipula.

  The case was getting interesting and complex. Yama put down his pen and Kama put down his bow to see what Yuvanashva would decide. Would he be Chakra-varti, the first after Bharata?

  A servant entered the maha-sabha at that moment. It was Shilavati’s handmaiden. ‘I have a message from the queen,’ she said.

  ‘What is it?’ said Yuvanashva, irritated by the intrusion.

  ‘The queen wishes to share