Page 129 of Sumanika

"Sometimes, I wish I could at least meet my mother. There are no stories of being breastfed, no lullabies to sleep to, no warmth of a woman's embrace,"

He continued, and I tilted my head against his shoulder, lowering my gaze.

"And,"

He whispered, closing my eyes.

"And?" I prompted curiously.

“And the first woman I encountered in my life was my Maasima, whom I had seen sleeping with a man for money, for needs. As a child, my thoughts contrasted between a woman as a comfort provider and a woman driven by need. I used to love her, but any day, she would choose to go back to a man rather than spend time with me. Any day, she would prefer to sleep with a man over feeding me with her own hands. My brothers were there to ask if I had lunch or dinner, but there were no hands to actually feed me. Sometimes, I feel I have everything, everything a man could ask for, but nothing.” His voice turned hoarse, and I silently listened to him, rubbing his hand gently.

"I started running from that emptiness with a big smile on my face and jokes on my lips. It was becoming easier to hide what I truly longed for rather than express it in words. Then, the second woman I encountered was that married princess,” he said, and I inhaled sharply at her mention. I didn’t know why, but I felt a heaviness in my chest as I listened to him. I bit my lips and continued to stroke my thumb gently on his hand.

“The way she used to look at me made me feel as if she was a source of comfort. I wanted to talk to her; I wanted to share what I was feeling, what I longed for, what I desired.” His voice trembled, and I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes. His cheeks flushed red with the fire’s glow. Tears filled his eyes, on the verge of spilling over.

“But she stripped my clothes instead of my heart. Once, twice, and it became too late to realize that this was just it. I… I didn’t know… what was hap… happening. I thought she found comfort in me, and I would find comfort in her. But as soon as we ended our physical session, she would ask me to stand outside her door again. That time, my fingers shook, but I thought maybe, in time, she would ask me in, would wrap me in her arms and ask about my life, what I was feeling—but it never came, Suman.”

I felt a lump in my throat as I watched a tear roll down his cheek.

“It never came, Suman, and now I was running away from emptiness and a pang of guilt, too. Then a friend of mine asked me to join him at a place— a place that people call a brothel,”

I gasped and looked down at our joined hands. A jolt went through me as he pulled his hand away and began to speak. At that place, I encountered a woman in her middle age who assured my friend that she would groom me. I accompanied her inside, where she asked for my name and age—I fabricated my responses. She then inquired about my intentions. I did not want to do anything; I just wanted to talk. I said I wanted to talk. She smiled, looked at me, and sat beside me with tears in her eyes. She told me that I was the first man in her life to ask her to talk. I remained silent, feeling both afraid and helpless. The bubble in my heart felt huge, on the verge of bursting. But I listened to her. She shared her life story, how she was the child of a court dancer, and how her life led her into the skin business. She had five children; it was a compulsion at first, but after giving birth to them, it became a necessity to stay in that line of work. I listened to her all night and felt comforted knowing that my life wasn’t the only one that was difficult. The next morning, she smiled brightly and bid me goodbye with a warm hug. I didn’t know what to do. I was still young, only sixteen,” he said, and I smiled weakly, listening to her him.

“Then?” I asked, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Then, I ran again, Suman. I long for another escape, for that one moment when I could just be me, when I could truly be who I am. The hole inside me was widening; it captured my attention more than I could afford. It distracted me. And there was guilt within me, a feeling that I was betraying my brothers. I was lying to them, and I had done something I could never share with anyone. They would hate me if they knew,” he said, and I blinked silently, inhaling deeply as I looked at the glowing curves of the fire warming me while the coldness hit my back, freezing my spine.

“I went to that brothel again to find that woman. I needed my time now; this time I would be talking. But instead, I met a young, beautiful woman, timid and in pain. She asked me the same question about what I needed. I didn’t know what I wanted at that moment, so I asked her what she wanted. She smiled and told me how attractive she found me. She said she had never met a handsome man like me and how she had never been satisfied before.” He paused, and I looked at his thumb, piercing his finger and whitening his knuckles with the strength of his grip.

I quietly reached for his hand and whispered,“You can tell me anything, Kunwarsa.”

He smiled weakly and looked at me. "Call me Agastya; it will be easier for me to share," he gulped, and a tear escaped his eyes.

I gulped nervously and felt an ache in my heart, seeing the tears in his eyes.

“You can tell me anything, Agastya,” I murmured slowly, and he smiled, looking down.

"I spent the night with her, and that night, I felt different. It was something more than I had ever experienced. She was the woman who looked at me with a spark in her eyes and shyness on her face. She appeared amazed, and before I could leave, she touched my feet and said she had never met a gentleman who treated her the way I did,"

I felt a pang in my chest hearing him. The mention of another woman hurt me.

"But I never met her again. She was bought by a Prince and gifted to someone,” he said, and I looked at the hurt on his face.

“I never got the chance to tell her about myself. It hurt for days. I thought I could save her, protect her from the bad, from the other men, but I didn’t have the courage to do that. I couldn’t tell anyone about it. Then I started running away from the emptiness, guilt, and regret, all along with me,” he broke down a bit, letting the tears roll down his cheeks.

I started to feel weaker, even more than before. I tried to focus on my studies and refocus my attention on what mattered. I never knew where my life was heading. I grew restless day by day. I couldn’t forget everything that had happened during this time. Then, one day, my teacher asked me to gather some information for a kingdom. I felt grateful for such an opportunity. He placed his trust in me, and I began the mission,” he said, and I noticed the slight smile on his face.

“I was determined to obtain information about a trade between two kingdoms. I attempted to act like a soldier and watch him closely, but he grew suspicious and dismissed me from my post. I lost the opportunity to enter the kingdom, but I learned that the king was attending a celebration and that dancers had been summoned from a well-known dance house. I visited this dance house in hopes of making some contacts, but I failed miserably as the women were reluctant to speak with a man. However, one adult woman pulled me into her room and asked what I wanted. I explained that I was seeking information. She smiled at me and said she would help, but in return, I would have to do something for her,”

I shaped my brows and asked,“What did she ask you to do?”

He lowered his gaze and looked at me.

“What would a woman ask a handsome young man to do?” he replied, and I gasped.

"Oh,"

He nodded.“She asked me for the same thing, but I wanted to stay clean; I wanted to do this without any of the dirty stuff. She refused. I offered her money—double what I had offered before. She said she could make plenty of money dancing at the celebrations. She wanted to dominate a man for a night, just as men had dominated her. She was furious about treating a man the way she had been treated by men. I understood the pain behind her words, and I didn’t have many options. I agreed. She asked me to get on my knees,” He said, and my eyes widened with shock. But I said nothing.

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