Lanka's Princess by Kavita Kane

Author:Kavita Kane [Kane, Kavita]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Rupa Publications India
Published: 2016-11-30T18:30:00+00:00

Infidelity

She had not seen Mandodari so agitated; not even when Ravan had got Dhanyamalini as his second bride ten years ago. Mandodari was friendly but there was an air of cold reserve; formality and propriety of manner was of utmost importance to her. She seldom broke away from her frigid taciturnity. Until she discerned, behind Mandodari’s reserve and forced gaiety, a profound melancholy.

Meenakshi stumbled upon her distress by perchance. She had come into Mandodari’s palace unannounced, searching for the boys. They were often together—even her two years old Kumar—as all of them looked up to Meghnad and loved him almost reverentially, even the shy Trijata, much to Sarama’s chagrin. Meenakshi could not spot any of the children but for the sleeping infant Akshay Kumar, Ravan’s youngest son, in his cradle, she found Mandodari sitting next to it, hunched, her shoulders shaking with violent sobs,

The sight turned her cold. Had she had another argument with Ravan? They fought often; for all her deceptive demureness, Mandodari knew how to fight back, without giving an inch. Was it her mother’s apsara blood or her father’s wisdom, or her own stubborn individuality that I never saw her cower to Ravan’s infamous bouts of mood and temper?

Yet she was the only one who did not mince her opinions, voicing them with her usual calm straight forwardness. If Ravan was all impulse and desire, she was the anchor to his raging passions. If he was blinded to reason, she made him see it. ‘That I go unheard and unheeded does not deter me,’ she had once told Meenakshi. ‘I have to let him know: it is unto him to become knowing…’

Mandodari reminded Meenakshi of a placid lake, deceptively calm but mysteriously deep. But watching her weep so brokenly, Meenakshi could not stop emitting an involuntary gasp of astonishment.

She had not meant to intrude, but the sound of the soft gasp made Mandodari look up at her, her face drenched in silent anguish.

At the sight of her, Mandodari quickly tried to compose her contorted features, wiping the tears hurriedly away. Meenakshi was the last person she wanted to face or confront at that moment. She wished she could tell her to leave. Meenakshi instead barged into the chamber, unheedful of circumspect consequences.

‘What happened?’ she demanded peremptorily.

Her offensively self-assured imperativeness, did not allow contradiction or refusal. Mandodari, in that defenceless moment, welcomed the brusque inquiry.

‘Why are you here?’ asked Mandodari instead.

‘I had come to enquire about the boys,’ replied Meenakshi, staring at the other woman’s wan face.

‘They are with Kumbha practising the mace,’ was the subdued answer.

‘What happened, Mandodari?’ repeated Meenakshi, but her tone was gentler.

‘You simply caught me in a low mood,’ shrugged Mandodari. ‘Just a quirky spell,’ she added dismissively, forcing a small, brief smile.

Meenakshi was much too stubborn to be taken in by so spurious an argument.

‘What is it?’ she asked kindly, scrutinizing the tear-streaked face. Even tears could not mar Mandodari’s loveliness.

Her kind tone strangely annoyed Mandodari. ‘If I wished, I would tell you,’ she said coldly.

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