Page 35 of The Legend of Meneka
I wonder if Indra felt this in his throne room. I imagine his face furious and scared while the vajra trembled in his hand. I imagine Indra on the receiving end of a power he himself wields to make celestials like me bow to him, controlled without his will like he himself has controlled us.
“That’s why you did not help us with the healing,” I say, understanding. “All your power was used to convince Indra in his essence while Lord Indra resisted the rain.”
“It is where I was needed. The rest of you would not have been able to help me, not with this.”
Kaushika’s eyes are free from any deception. His words are said simply, without arrogance. A deep kinship forms in me in recognition of this. This is how I have felt about my dance, a moment of purity with my own skill and power, which nothing could snatch away. No one else has understood it. Even around Rambha, I have felt lesser, unsure of myself. Yet Kaushika’s acceptance of his own power reminds me that evenIseparate Indra and Amaravati and my own missions from the joy my dance gives me. That is how I began down this road. In wanting to dance with freedom.
Kaushika meets my eyes. His fingers move as though to reach for me again, but he stills. “I want to thank you,” he says. “Not just for what you did tonight at Thumri, but for what you taught me at Shiva’s temple and what you have been teaching the others. Anirudh and Romasha have told me of your assistance. If you had not spoken to these students about the path of the Goddess, I would never have been able to ask them to come to Thumri. You saved lives tonight.”
My eyebrows rise. “I thought you’d be angry,” I whisper.
“I was,” he replies, smiling slightly. “But not at you. This was always the risk. I knew it all along. That night you arrived in the forest, the warding of intent told me you’d be dangerous. I knew you would change the hermitage in some way—it is perhaps why I have been so hostile. You are indeed a threat to the ascetic path, but not all things that threaten us are harmful.” He utters a self-deprecating laugh and presses the side of his neck with one hand. The gesture is so boyish that I want to squeeze him in comfort. “I am hoping Romasha will see this too,” he adds. “She does not wholly approve of what you are doing at the hermitage, but I think she is starting to understand. Many paths can lead to the same outcome. That is essential knowledge for a yogi. For a sage.”
“She does not approve,” I repeat quietly. “Butyoudo?” I follow the movement of his hands, the way his long fingers steeple on his knees.
“Approve,” he repeats slowly, as though measuring my question, trying to see the intention behind it. “I am not sure you need approval. Least of all mine. It has always been about your own.”
Slowly, with enough time to allow me to stop him, his fingers reach out to take my hand again. He traces the outline of my palm, and I can do nothing but stare at him, my heart racing. His voice is quiet. It rolls over my body like honey. Excitement and hunger ache within me.
“I am a yogi, Meneka,” he says. “Asage. You came to the hermitage to learn more about your magic. But I came to this path to devote myself to the pursuit of the one truth, the one universal power. I made oaths to asceticism. I believed it was only through the strict denial of material possessions and sensual pleasures that I could do the kind of tapasya required to grow my own spiritual power. To make my mind strong like a diamond, so that one day the universe would reflect back to me.”
Mesmerized, I say nothing. This is what sages pursue. It is one reason Indra fears them so much, for they seek a knowledge even Indra is not capable of fully understanding. I stare at Kaushika, and his breath shudders again. He is close enough to ruffle my hair. I am not sure if he moves or I do. Perhaps it is the both of us, leaning closer, propelled by the intimacy of this moment, the intimacy of his admissions. His eyes glow, and I can make out each individual lash, each groove of a laugh line.
“You opened me up to a part of myself I had been denying,” he says. “To a part ofShivaI had been neglecting. You reminded me of why I am doing this at all. That enlightenment is love too. If it weren’t for you, I might have walked away from Thumri. I would have chosen detachment, in pursuing the ascetic path. But tonight, when even my tapasvin power failed me …” His lips lift, and my own feel suddenly dry. I lick them lightly, but it is the taste of his scent I trap. “It was the power of the Goddess that came to my aid. You are making me rethink many, many things.”
I do not know what to say. My heart strums a quiet tune, spellbound by this man. I suddenly understand his look when he brought down the rain. It was my wisdom he tapped into then. It wasmehe remembered.
In the back of my mind, I am aware of the danger. Is he saying these words simply to lure me into revealing myself? Is this an elaborate scheme to expose me? I feel strangely excited, to be the hunted rather than the hunter. Heat enters my belly, rising to my chest, tingling over my neck. The challenge floods in me to be with him, a mark who is as powerful as I am, maybe more. I want to seduce him suddenly, not because of Indra, but for myself. I want him toknowI am seducing him, to knowmeand my danger and want it anyway, in the same way that I want him now.
I squeeze Kaushika’s hand. He squeezes back; a quiet smile.
“Should you pass the Initiation Ceremony,” he says, “I will introduce you to other sages, as is tradition. You will have a choice to stay with me or go to one of their schools to learn from them. Undoubtedly, Gautama and Bhardwaj and even Vashishta will covet you.” Kaushika smiles again, and I understand his words are not to pull away from me. They are to ensure I know I have a choice. He reaches to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. It is amazing, this understanding that flows between us in this moment, free of small anxieties, drenched with trust. It is as though I have always known this man, a mirror to my own light, a shadow of my own heart.
My fingers tremble. It is all I can do not to touch his face and trace the contours of his jaw with my nails. It is all I can do not to lean in and find the taste of his dimples.
“I know I have not given you much reason for it,” Kaushika says softly. “But I hope, Meneka, that you decide to stay with me.”
A sigh escapes me, sweet with satisfaction. I fight the urge for closeness no longer. I rest my head on his shoulder, and after a hesitant moment, his own head nestles mine. Kaushika takes a deep breath, warming me and making me tingle at the same time. A silence braided with unspoken words wraps around us, comforting.
CHAPTER 15
By the next day, that moment has already faded to a dream. We arrive at the hermitage late in the morning, but I leave at once. Throughout the ride, I have been chanting a prayer, an ancient one that works as a call for help when citizens of Amaravati are stranded away from swarga. Once it was used by every celestial, but for years now only apsaras sent on missions use it, and then only rarely. Sometimes assistance is sent, either in the form of Indra’s jewelry, or as a gandharva who comes to take a message. Often, there is no response. Once an apsara is sent on a mission, it is understood that she is on her own. It is to protect Indra and Amaravati—if we are caught, Lord Indra can deny he sent us at all. He can claim we acted without his knowledge as rogue agents.
Yet even as we enter the stables, a vision comes to me. Behind my eyes, a clifftop overlooks the River Alaknanda. I recognize the spot as one marked on a map within the hermitage. It is half a day’s ride, but it will be safe, far as it is from here. I am not merely getting assistance. An emissary from heaven is arriving to hear me and take my report. As the others pull off their mares, I turn mine back and head toward the road.
Kaushika throws me a thoughtful look but does not challenge me. He can hardly claim I am not allowed to interact with the world outside, not after Thumri. I glimpse his wariness, and guilt gnaws at me, to leave without an explanation after everything he has told me. Still, having a mark pine for you is one of the earliest tricks an apsara learns; I have him exactly where I want him. I offer him acool nod, ignore the questions from the others, and ride back out of the stables.
The sun is overhead completely by the time I arrive in the woods. The energy here is quieter compared to the forest by the hermitage. There, the trees hum with power, a result of being so close to tapasvin magic. I know this now, aware as I have become of prana, but I am still surprised by how clearly I can tell the difference after only a few weeks at the hermitage.
The celestial vision I received guides me. I weave through the trees, climbing higher, thinking of what I will say to the emissary who has answered my call. My own questions must be careful, discreet. I know I must share what Kaushika has told me about his past, but I feel sick with the thought of relating it when my own mind regarding those truths is not made up.
Did he do it to manipulate me? Even if he did, does it take away the veracity of what I myself have learned at Thumri? How can I make a report now, sharing all of this without context, when the consequences could be so damaging? When Indra will use what I am revealing only to attack Kaushika, without understanding that Kaushika had reasons for his hate?
And if Kaushika killed my sisters because of his hate, does it even matter what his reasons were? Can anything justify such a crime, and canIdefend it? I have been the one to summon the emissary, but I feel unprepared, each step only increasing my anxiety, my mind going in circles. Yet when I arrive at the cliff, a familiar face greets me and I feel my doubts fly away as though they never existed.
She sits on a rock just ahead of the cliff face. Her expression is thoughtful as she stares at the silver band of the river below. She is so breathtaking that for a moment I can only stare at her, the green sari wrapped sensuously around her waist, the jewelry that glints on her wrists, her arms, her swan neck. Twinkles from her thick braid andher own aura brighten the blades of grass around her. It is her scent that undoes me, star-anise and dewdrops, cracking me open like a ripe fruit.
I utter a soft whimper of relief, dismounting.
