Pregnant King Read online

  the corner room

  A fortnight later, Pulomi bled. And she bled a month after that. And after that. The servant who conveyed the news to Simantini could barely contain her glee. Simantini’s maids laughed. They hugged Simantini, assuming the news had made her happy too.

  Simantini was happy. Delighted. Ecstatic, in fact. She wanted to smile. Gloat. Jeer and clap her hands. But she did not. This was not right. Such reactions were unbecoming of a queen. She remembered her mother’s parting words, ‘A queen is one who remains gracious even in the most ungracious of circumstances.’ She was ashamed. How could she let herself be reduced to the level of her maids? How could she find pleasure in another’s misery?

  Pulomi’s presence in the palace reminded Simantini constantly of her failure. ‘Had I given my husband a child, she would not have come into this house. I failed, she came. Now she has failed too. Will there be a third queen?’ These thoughts bothered Simantini.

  Simantini looked at the game of dice painted on the wall of her bedchamber. When she had seen it the first time, she had assumed she and her husband would be the only players. Then, she realized, four people could play the game. She had hoped it would be the two of them and their two children. After Pulomi’s arrival she realized the two of them would play the game, enjoy the game, and she would be an unwanted extra player. Now, it seemed there would be three wives playing Yuvanashva’s game of dice. A game without a winner.

  Simantini realized for all her gracious conduct and trained imperiousness she had the jealous heart of a commoner. She remembered her journey to the temple of Ileshwara shortly after her marriage. The silver doors. Above the silver door was a mask of black stone. A dreaded creature with no body, only a head. Staring at all those who came seeking the grace of Ileshwara Mahadev. Sticking out his tongue. Mocking them. Jeering them. ‘You may look noble. You may behave with reverence. But I know your dark thoughts and putrid emotions. I know you are pretending,’ he seemed to be saying. Simantini felt the black mask come alive in front of her. Licking her face like a lizard, spitting on her, laughing at the truth that hid in her heart. Simantini did not like the vision. Perhaps this is why she was not yet mother or queen.

  Pulomi did not deserve the pain of failure. No woman did. Simantini knew what it felt like to be isolated from the world for three days and three nights. She had years of experience. Restricted to the corner room of the women’s quarters. Looking out from the only window in the room. Watching the tamarind tree outside. The cradles on its branches. And the high wall beyond. Doing nothing all day except watching the blood flow out of the body and wiping it from time to time. Eating uncooked food. No spices. No meat. No fish. Not even boiled milk or butter. Being forced to mourn for the child that could have been. Feeling dirty and polluted. Touched by death, shunned by the living, finding comfort and empathy only in the arms of other menstruating women.

  ‘What does Pulomi do all day?’ Simantini asked one of her maids, who shared the corner room with the junior queen for three days.

  ‘Nothing. She just weeps uncontrollably.’

  Simantini instructed her maid, ‘The next time you see her in the corner room encourage her to play dice and draw on the walls. Make her smile. Take some of my dolls with you. Give them to her. She is only fourteen.’

  unworthy

  One day, in the audience chamber, Shilavati noticed the sadness in Yuvanashva’s face. ‘What is the matter, son?’ she asked, concerned, ‘All well?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Yuvanashva, not sounding too convincing. Shilavati glanced at the maids behind her and the elders in front of her. They got up and left mother and son alone.

  ‘Tell me. What bothers you?’ she asked, her voice full of concern.

  ‘I had a dream last night mother. I dreamt I was dead. On the shores of Vaitarni I saw Yama seated on a buffalo. He asked me to recount my achievements. I realized I had none. So I kept quiet. Yama walked away followed by all the kings and fathers of Ila-vrita. Only I was left behind. Alone on the wrong side of Vaitarni.’ Shilavati felt her son’s misery. Suddenly, Yuvanashva looked up and blurted out, ‘Am I like Vichitra-virya, mother? Will my wives bear children only when I am dead?’

  ‘Don’t say such things,’ said Shilavati.

  Yuvanashva raised his voice, ‘I have two wives, mother. But no children. I hold the bow of kingship but it is you who rule Vallabhi. Even you do not think I am good enough!’

  Shilavati did not reply. She looked at Yuvanashva and held his hand till he calmed down. As his breathing became steady, she said, ‘Do you feel I am denying you your birthright?’

  ‘No, mother,’ said Yuvanashva, looking down at her feet, hating himself for opening up this conversation. ‘I did not mean that.’

  ‘I have heard your friend Vipula calls me a leech.’ Yuvanashva did not look up. He was embarrassed. ‘My son,’ said Shilavati, her voice low and kind, ‘it is for your own good that I rule Vallabhi. So that you can focus on becoming a father. Don’t let your friends distract you with their petty wicked thoughts. I am your mother. Custodian of your inheritance. No one loves you as much as I do. Who will think of your welfare if not I? Who will think of your wives’ happiness if not you? Have you asked the two girls how they feel when servants shun them in the morning because they are barren?’

  ‘No,’ said Yuvanashva softly.

  ‘You must give them attention, Yuva. Make them happy. It is their battle as much as yours. Win it together. You are husband first, then king. Vallabhi is going nowhere. You have your whole life ahead of you to rule.’

  the astrologer

  Three years after Pulomi came to Vallabhi, Yuvanashva travelled on a barge down the Kalindi to Kashi, the famed city at the confluence of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati, to consult the most respected astrologer in Ila-vrita. ‘Is there anything, or anyone, preventing me from becoming a father?’ he asked the great astrologer.

  The great astrologer sat in a vast circular hall where the walls were covered with paintings of the twenty-seven star goddesses, known as Nakshatras, who dance on the rim of the celestial sphere. From the roof hung tapestries with images of the nine planet gods, known as Grahas, whose movements into the arms of the Nakshatras and out of them reflected the account books of Yama. Without raising his head from the birth charts, the great astrologer said, ‘No.’

  ‘Is there any need for a ritual? Maybe an offering to Shani, lord of Saturn, who delays things?’ asked an anxious Yuvanashva.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Maybe a prayer to Shukra, lord of Venus, who makes a man potent?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Should I wear a gem on my finger or around my neck?’

  ‘No. No. No,’ said the great astrologer raising his head. ‘There is no need to do anything. No gems, no rituals, no chants. Just be patient.’ Yuvanashva sensed the great astrologer’s irritation. He withdrew.

  The Grahas and Nakshatras admonished the astrologer of Kashi for being sharp with the king of Vallabhi. ‘He comes to you because he is unhappy and lost; don’t add to his misery,’ they whispered. Unseen by mortal eyes these gods and goddesses who play with time revealed to the astrologer that Yuvanashva was a great white horse, much loved by the Devas, but his path was blocked by an equally loved cow-elephant.

  As Yuvanashva prepared to leave, the great astrologer of Kashi spoke in a voice that was softer and kinder. ‘Have faith, O lord of Vallabhi. It is foretold that you will be father of a Chakra-varti. The stars speak less of life now and more of death. Mangala, the lord of the planet Mars, is gaining power. He is filling Ila-vrita with aggression, righteous indignation, outrage and the desire for vengeance. Soon everyone will be angry. And in anger no one will listen to sound counsel. There will be no compromise. Men will kill each other. The earth will be drenched in blood. Then, only then, will the skies clear and children will be born. Yours. Your wife’s. And those of the Pandava widows.’

  Discontented with the intangible answers of the sky-gods, Yuvanashva decided to take the