Page 12 of The Legend of Meneka
“Oh,” he drawls. “I know exactly what you can do. We will see how much of it you give away.”
The words deepen my chill. The dark, bare room closes around me as he shuts the door behind him. The forest, the chants, the faces of my lost sisters all flash before my eyes. A part of me is still in disbelief that earlier this night I was with Queen Tara. I wasdancingfor her,seducingher. Rambha kissed me with the promise of something more. I can still taste the touch of her lips, but I have never felt as far away from swarga as I do now.
Exhaustion washes over me all at once. So much has happened I can barely keep the events straight in my mind.
I turn away from the door and fling myself on the straw. Dreamless sleep overtakes me instantly.
I’M AWAKENED BY A KNOCK IN WHAT SEEMS LIKE MERE MINUTES.
Dawn is breaking past the window, a pink flush chasing the last of the misty stars. Groggy-eyed, I crack open the door to see a young woman around my age. She blinks at me, her smile faltering, then gathers herself visibly. Amused, I smile back.
I am used to such reactions to my beauty. All celestial beings exude charm, but stories are sung of apsaras’ exquisiteness. Kaushika was a rare exception to react to me with hostility, but of course, he has seen—and destroyed—more ravishing apsaras than me.
I open the door wider. The woman hesitates, then introduces herself as Kalyani. “Kaushika told me we had a new initiate,” she says hesitantly. “I arrived a few weeks ago myself. Your name is Meneka?”
I study her, the round cheeks, the laugh lines by her eyes, the topknot her hair is tied in. She is dressed in a plain kurta and pajamas, and wrapped in her arms is another set for me. My fingers clutch atthe fabric of my sari from heaven. I trace its delicate embroidery. Reluctantly, I nod.
Kalyani leads me to a stall at the end of the shed, where a bucket of cold water waits. While I disrobe and sluice water down my hair, untangling my tresses with my fingers, she chats to me, telling me about the hermitage. I am to receive linen and candles, but all cleaning will be up to me. Everything I have brought must be turned over to a disciple called Romasha, who is in charge of all outside materials that come here. Even though, for the most part, the hermitage exists independently, growing its own food, tending its orchards, creating its own pottery, and weaving its own clothes, she will use what I give her to trade with the outside world. Any proceeds will be applied toward the collective use of the hermitage.
“I cannot part with my clothes,” I protest when Kalyani tells me this. “They are a part of my heritage, a part of my country. I cannot give those away to be traded.”
“Then you will have to burn them,” Kalyani says, her voice apologetic. “The separation from our past is meant to be complete when we arrive here. It’s why Kaushika forbids any questions or discussions about where each of us comes from. The separation is meant to help us on our ascetic path. I am sorry. I do not think he will make an exception for you.”
I tuck away the information about Kaushika’s edict in my mind. If he allows people to escape their past, even forces them to forget it, then this will only help me; I won’t need to fabricate anything further about my own history. Could it be that Kaushika is running away from hisownpast? If so, I must find out and use it. As for the clothes … Unless someone is to watch over me to ensure I burn my saris, I will simply hide them in the forest along with the jewelry at the first opportunity.
“Are you to be my teacher?” I ask.
“Only a guide,” Kalyani answers. “And a friend, if you wish it. Knowledge is shared freely here, but Anirudh and Romasha are the ones who lead all the lessons. You’ll see. What kind of magic do you perform?”
“I would prefer to demonstrate it,” I say evasively. I have no mortal magic in me, but several of my marks performed magic that threatened Indra. I have encountered chants and artifacts, astrology and potion-making. None of them have compared to my own celestial powers.
I finish drying myself and wear the clothes Kalyani has brought for me. I force my hair into a topknot like the sages, then we make our way to the courtyard.
In the breaking dawn, the central courtyard appears much larger. Nearly a hundred students cluster in separate groups, practicing different forms of magic. Mantras echo, rivaling one another in beauty and complexity. Amulets and clothes are consecrated with flicks of wrists that resemble dance mudras. Fires spark in magnificent shapes, air whirlpools in small tornadoes, and water dances between fingers. Here and there are healers burning herbs, studying contours in the smoke. I even notice some disciples practicing yogic forms that look remarkably like dance.
Kalyani leads me through the students to a quiet spot, where we wait silently. A young man, only a little older than us, detaches himself from the closest group. His eyes widen in telltale shock at my beauty, then he smiles at me.
Anirudh’s aura is not as strong as Kaushika’s, though it still radiates with power, resembling several small jewels tucked in the chakras at his wrists and chest. I notice his straight shoulders, the noble demeanor of his movements, the cadence of his soft speech. I am not allowed to ask, but I know this man was once a royal.
“Your days will be marked with chores and lessons,” Anirudh tells me. “Kalyani will help guide you through it. Are you hungry?”
I shake my head. Celestials do not need food. In Amaravati, if we eat at all, we consume wine and nectar, sweetmeats and ambrosia. I’ve never been fond of mortal food, but I will have to pick at my meals here, enough not to arouse suspicion. My stomach already rebels at the thought, though I am careful to keep the distaste out of my face.
“Just as well,” Anirudh says. “We only eat after the morning practice in the courtyard. The first fasting helps us focus. Things will change the closer you get to the Initiation Ceremony, but the ceremony itself is what all the training here is aimed towards. In approximately two months’ time, all of us here—including me—will have to display to Kaushika what we can do with our magic. It is meant to be a demonstration of our power and control, and we get to pick the manner of our demonstration. We are all yogis here, capable of great magic, but the purpose of this hermitage is to turn a yogi into a rishi. You do know what a rishi is, don’t you?”
“A sage,” I reply, nodding. It is a common mortal term.
“Not just any sage,” Anirudh says, shaking his head. “A rishi is a sage who has uncovered the deepest mysteries of the universe. Who has swum in the waters of knowledge that ordinary people like us can only hope to glimpse in our lifetimes. A rishi is a self-proclaimed title, but no one in this hermitage except Kaushika can claim it yet. He alone has demonstrated his power to other sages, to Gautama and Bhardwaj, to Jamadagni and even to ornery Vashishta. If we are to follow in his path, then one day we must do the same, but we will have to begin with convincing Kaushika himself. Understood?”
“Yes,” I say cautiously. “Why two months?”
Anirudh smiles. “Because of the Mahasabha. The sages’ gathering will occur immediately after the Initiation Ceremony, where Kaushika must present his students to the rest of the enclave. The meeting will not just be a judgment on us but also on him. On everything we are doing here at the hermitage, and the path we take. Kaushika wantsus to succeed, so he is giving us as much time as he can before he presents the strongest of us. He will be exacting in his testing of us in the ceremony, but not harsh. He wants us to grow more powerful. That is why we keep to the timelineandthe training. You have arrived too late, but we will do our best. I will help you every step of the way.”
Anxiety pinches my heart. Indra gave me until the Vajrayudh to thwart Kaushika, an event that will arrive in about six months. Yet with the Initiation Ceremony so close, how am I to survive until the Vajrayudh when I cannot do mortal magic at all?
“Do not worry overmuch about what is to come,” Anirudh says, reading my expression while Kalyani nods in encouragement. “For now, we will simply see how much your power allows you to do. What form does your magic take?”
“Runes,” I reply carefully. “It is what is passed down in my line.”
