SITA’S SISTER (14 page)

All through the proceedings, no one dared to reprimand the queen for her graceless behaviour—neither the other two queens nor her husband who looked on with an indulgent smile. Either he was oblivious to the undercurrent or he preferred to ignore it. Being neutral did not mean being fair, her mother had once succinctly told her. And encouraging favouritism was far worse. The king of Ayodhya seemed a case in point. Amongst his sons, it was clearly Ram who was his favourite and Kaikeyi was the special one amongst the queens. Whom would he choose between his favourite son and favourite wife? Or did he really believe that such a prospect would never arise, seeing the younger queen’s obvious partiality? That threat seemed palpably close now…only if Ram had decided to take offence and spring to his bride’s defence…

Urmila soon became aware of the fact that like she was observing each member of her new family, she was also being scrutinized very closely. It was an old lady with weedy hair and small, sharp eyes with greed in them who kept hovering around Kaikeyi. The princes treated her deferentially even though she was not part of the royal family. Was she the queen’s favoured handmaid? Her stature was higher than that certainly, as was evident from the way she spoke brashly and ordered the other maids around. She had a lot of weight to throw around, Urmila thought nastily watching her corpulent waist and fat arms, taking an instant dislike to her. Her name, she soon got to know, was Manthara and she had a limp because of a back curvature, which made her stoop heavily. She was tall and very fair like her mistress. Like mistress, like maid: both arrogant and petty in the limited power they wielded.

Kausalya tried to undo the deliberate damage inflicted by the younger queen. She was all warmth and kindliness and gradually made the brides feel at home. She was regal without the hauteur of the younger queen. Plump and much older, she brooked no challenge to Kaikeyi’s beauty. And she well knew it. Kausalya was a dignified lady who reacted to life, as to her youthful, beautiful competitor, with a tolerant smile.

But the person whom Urmila took an immediate affinity to was Sumitra, the youngest queen. She barely spoke a word, her presence was equally quiet. She did not boast of the imperious beauty of Kaikeyi or the gushy effusiveness of Kausalya. But it was the depth of her emotions that was touching. She was ethereal, fair and pale, her eyes soft and sapient and slightly slanting, her high cheek bones giving her an air of being a goddess of wisdom and tranquility. She simply hugged each of the four princesses with such genuine affection that Urmila felt, loved, wanted, respected and at home for the first time in this new place.

Home, she strangely found this word hollow of its warmth. She was filled with a cold anxiety of being suddenly vulnerable, a feeling she could not fathom.

The city of Ayodhya welcomed the four brides with cheer and charm—something Urmila was not feeling right now. She was smiling to reciprocate the kindness of the people but within the palace, the walls seemed to be closing in on her and her sisters. She was especially worried about Sita after the ungracious treatment meted out to her by Kaikeyi. She wanted to meet her in a quiet corner but there was no such place or opportunity. And she firmly reminded herself that Sita had Ram now; he was there to protect her, like she had Lakshman.

Lakshman had seen Ram’s injured look when Sita was insulted but Ram had preferred to remain silent and wished his bride to do the same. But Lakshman harboured no such expectations from his bride. He was as displeased as Urmila and both simmered in their indignation, each understanding the other’s ire and trying to placate each other through wordless, reassuring glances. Along with their individual fieriness and their fierce loyalty for their family, what bound them together was their immense patience and power of endurance—never for themselves but for each other and their siblings. He could well imagine, and understand, what his wife was going through; her sister’s insult was her vilification too and that doubled the ignominy and pain. He wanted to console her and felt guilty that he could not make her first day in her new home the most blessed day of her life. He noticed her pallid face and could not but compare it with her radiance at their wedding at Mithila. He wished he could bring back that glow. Right now he knew she was desperate to talk to him, but prudence and protocol restrained them from doing so.

‘Why is the queen mother so displeased with Sita?’ she whispered urgently when she managed to grab a chance to snatch a quick conversation with him.

‘She’ll cool down, don’t worry. Chin up!’ was all he could whisper back and giving her chin a teasing tweak instead, he hurried to his father who was calling him. As the day darkened into dusk, she found herself feverishly waiting for the night to fall with the sprinkle of twinkling stars.

The awaiting night fell late. Late in the evening, after all the rituals were done, the brides were led to their bed chambers. Or rather palaces, Urmila corrected herself with dry humour. There were palaces within the main palace and each of the brothers had one as had the three queens. For the wedding festivities, each of them had been redecorated with much artistic care, courtesy Shanta’s aesthetic eye and endeavour. Like the palace, this wing which was to be theirs, was overwhelming with its visual extravaganza of bubbling fountains, carved arches, winding stairways and filigreed balustrades.

However, Urmila was in no mood to take in the architectural grandeur of her palace; she had eyes only for him. The day had been fraught with unpleasantness and she wanted the night to be better, the best. All she had wished throughout the long, trying day was that she could be with him, talk to him, feel him, have him close to her. And now alone in their bedchamber, filled with the fragrance of rose petals sprinkled carefully on the huge white silken bed, she had that opportunity at last.

He was waiting for her and the moment he glanced up, Urmila, unable to restrain herself, ran to him and threw herself into his arms like no bashful bride would have ever done. She hugged him convulsively, her fingers sinking into his broad back. She looked up into his black, smouldering eyes, then softly kissed his shadowed cheeks, nose, his crooked smile and his lips. They were full and warm, the heat between them making them hot and scorching. She heard him moan deep in her mouth and felt his hand cupping her breast, the fingers of his other hand in her hair, urgently unbraiding it to let it fall loose over her shoulders. He threw the hairpin down.

‘I want you like this!’ he breathed thickly.

‘I love you, I love you, I love you…let me say it,’ she murmured madly. ‘I love you!’

‘And I so love you, my Mila,’ he groaned, sinking his head into the softness of her neck, breathing in the scent of her exposed skin, her thick, flowing hair, inflaming him wildly. This was the girl he had loved and lusted for so long, his Mila, he thought fervidly, as he pulled her slender waist and pressed her harder against him—his sensuous woman, his sultry enchantress. And she was now in his arms, kissing him wantonly, her lips hot and hungry. She was his bride, his wife, she was his at last. He roamed his hand possessively over her silken, pliant body, kissing her, devouring her, stroking her with a passion of frenzied liberation. Through his hooded eyes, he watched her face fervently as she abandoned herself, to the heady sensation deluging both of them, their arms, their bodies entwined, moving in mounting ecstasy. When the moment crashed on them, he placed his lips hard over her mouth to drink in her spasmodic cry of abandonment.

Time seemed drawn, and later on, rested in satiated rapture, he saw her gazing at him. She looked languorously beautiful, still breathing heavily, her hair spilling over the silken sheets, her bare, soft bosom heaving, her lips swollen, her face glistening and flushed a warm peach. In her expression he read desire, excitement, tenderness and something else that he knew must be love. He felt a surge of emotion and he gathered her back carefully in his arms, savouring her lusciousness but cautious not to crush it. He felt blissfully calm, stroking her hair gently, running his finger on her bare back. I love her, I want her, I have her, he thought, and I have never been happier.

They remained long and restful in each other’s arms, listening to their slowing heartbeats, their bodies cleaved together. Then, he felt her stirring against him.

‘What does the queen have against Sita?’ Urmila murmured languidly.

He could not help smiling; she will not let go. He felt her wriggle against him, straightening up to look at him closely.

‘No one can dislike Sita. She’s the easiest, loveliest person to get along with. What has she done to earn her dislike?’ she persisted, her chin resting on his chest, staring at him in the moonlit darkness.

He ran a hand over his eyes and sighed in resignation. ‘It is nothing personal she has against your sister,’ he began. ‘If I can gauge Mother Kaikeyi and the situation correctly, she is miffed because your sisters are not the best choice of brides she would have handpicked for us brothers. She had been bride-hunting for long and had big plans for us—particularly Ram. She wanted the very best for him…’

‘But Sita is the best!’ Urmila retorted with asperity.

‘Again, knowing Ma Kaikeyi, she is dismissive about Sita because she is an orphan, not the true princess of Mithila, like you are. That’s why she made it blatantly clear whom she favoured more. Ideally, you were more eligible for Ram, and not me. I am but a lackey prince!’ he said solemnly, without losing the twinkle in his eyes. ‘That’s why the barb about you being the deserving queen…’ he laughed.

‘Oh, I don’t want to be queen, I want you!’ she flashed back indignantly. ‘This is most distressing!’

But Lakshman had more to tell her. ‘My father must not have had the time and opportunity to include her in the final decision and that must have really riled her. Her opinion was not sought. Don’t worry, she will come around. She is a very emotionally transparent woman who believes in making her feelings known clearly to everyone. She is disappointed and I am sure your sisters will be able to woo her with their respective charm. Like you have already done!’ he chuckled throatily. ‘And, dear woman, you can start to work your charm on me again, or do you plan to debate all through our first wonderful night together?’ he drawled, pulling her down against him and brought down her face hard against his lips without giving her a chance to argue further.

But Lakshman had underestimated Kaikeyi’s ire. Matters had turned for the worst the next day. The insults got more vitriolic and less subtle. It was apparent that Kaikeyi, for reasons known and unknown, refused to accept Sita as Ram’s bride. She had put forth the proposal that they must find him another bride and get Ram remarried. Dashrath had apparently agreed to her suggestion.

Urmila was flabbergasted. She rushed to her sister’s chamber. Sita was alone, as still and silent as the empty room. Ram had been called by his father to discuss some matters. Urmila could correctly guess what that would be—Sita and their marriage.

Her sister’s stricken face flared up her temper anew. ‘How dare they do this to you?’ started Urmila furiously. ‘You shall not take it silently anymore, Sita! The barbs were mean enough and should have been stopped. They have the audacity to think of remarriage dismissing you as if you were some trophy to be replaced! I won’t have it, Sita…’

‘And neither will I,’ Sita retorted grimly. ‘I have married Ram and I know the man I love. He won’t abandon me. Ever.’

Urmila looked at her uncertainly. ‘He is discussing this with his parents. What if he gets coerced into taking another wife? This family does have such a tradition!’ she reminded her sharply. ‘Our father-in-law has done it before—on the pretext of begetting a child. After Shanta was born from Kausalya, he had no reason or right to bring Sumitra or Kaikeyi as his queens. But he did. And the other queens accepted this quietly.’

‘Yes, it happens in many royal families but it won’t happen with me!’ said Sita. ‘I shall not allow it. Never!’ she added fiercely. ‘I know what Ram’s reply to his parents will be, but if he does agree, I shall see to it that it does not happen. On what grounds can they do that? That the marriage did not occur at the auspicious hour? Or that Ram has a mangaldosh? Well, then it should be me who should be protesting the loudest! Four weddings took place that day; are they going to annul all four and send us sisters packing home? Or are we expected to sit placidly and watch our husbands take a new set of brides?’ she said scornfully.