Page 50 of The Legend of Meneka
Kaushika nods and looks away again. “His name was Satyavrat. It means one who has taken a vow of truth.”
Again he pauses, and I watch the shadows on his face. I imagine him, a child-prince, suddenly faced with defending his people. I think of him and the choices that brought him to this moment now, the choices that broughtmehere to be the one to learn of his story.
Kaushika’s eyes glint, reflecting the water. “King Satyavrat knew that in helping me and my people, he invited Indra’s wrath. But the king was powerful in his own right. Though he was no sage, he was fueled by his dedication to dharma and the righteous path. He was a man who lived the values of his name, beloved within his kingdom, though he was no less a politician than any other royal. His magic was great, and he knew that should Indra move against him, the other devas would protest. He knew the risks of angering Indra, but he took them—for me and my people, and for the future of his own kingdom. It is why I have never felt resentment for his desire to fold my nation into his own. What use do I have for such petty emotions? He was honorable, and it was only my good fortune that brought him to me.”
Each word is taut like a nocked arrow. I raise my hand, trying to ease his anger with my touch again, but magic sparks between hisfingertips, molten fire that races over his body. My hand drops. I dare not touch him, not right now.
“For years, there was no retaliation from heaven,” Kaushika continues, and a soft scoffing sound huffs out from him. “We all thought that Indra, caught in his drinking and his dancing, simply forgot to enact revenge or chose to ignore us, as gods are wont to do. I left to follow my path to Shiva. I thought Satyavrat would be safe, his dynasty shielded. None of us accounted for the patience of the devas.”
Kaushika pauses to withdraw a small parchment from his pocket. He does not show it to me, but I recognize it nevertheless. The very same letter folded over and over again, one that I saw when I broke into his hut what seems like so long ago.
“Satyavrat’s sons wrote to me when the king passed.” Kaushika’s voice is deathly quiet. He tucks the letter back into his pocket, unread. “The missive came to me when I was training in Agastya’s hermitage. The king’s sons performed the last rites as per their tradition, asking Indra to permit their father’s soul to rise to heaven. Yet despite Satyavrat’s karma of goodness in this life, despite his piety, Indra denied him his right to a peaceful afterlife. The princes prayed to the other deities; they even prayed to Indra’s queen, Shachi, to intervene. Yet Satyavrat’s soul still wanders the mortal realm, punished to find no peace, unable to reside in swarga or become part of the cycle of rebirth.” Kaushika’s eyes flash as he finally looks toward me. “The sages would think that my meadow is a crime against nature, but what about Indra’s own conduct? Is that not a crime? How can I rest until Satyavrat does? I vowed that I would see him ascend to heaven, come what may. It is the one thing that defines my tapasya now, the one thing all my magic is aimed towards. Indra needs to be tamed, and I will be the harbinger of his ruin.”
The words are so dispassionate, yet so angry, that I recoil. Indra is not perfect, but never before from any mortal or immortal have Iheard such venom against my king. Not even from Anirudh and the rest.
“This is unwise,” I whisper. “Indra is the lord of heaven. He is the protector of amrit, the very essence of immortal life. He has a sacred duty to protect Amaravati, and it is hisdutyto do what he believes to be right.”
“And it ismyduty as a sage to do whatIthink is right,” Kaushika answers. His stillness finally leaves him, and he begins to pace. “What do you think I should do, Meneka? Simply behave like the other sages intent on their impassivity?Youare the one who told me about participation. About the path of the Goddess. How can you believe that this is not my fight?”
“The other sages are older than you. They have been rishis longer. If all of them counsel that this challenge is wrong, then how can you dismiss them so easily?”
“I am not dismissing them.Theyhave dismissed me. I know you are devoted to Indra, but I am asking you to see what you can with your own eyes. I am asking you to think for yourself.”
“Iamthinking for myself, and I know that this path is going to only end in your destruction. Indra has one of the most powerful weapons in the universe. His vajra is stronger than a diamond, sharper than a thunderbolt. Many have come and gone, trying to challenge him on his throne—and what you do here—”
“It is not his throne I am interested in,” Kaushika interrupts, and anger fills him again as he paces. “I have no patience to explain all this to you, if you do not already see why this is necessary. I do not deny your importance to me, Meneka; every one of us needs a counselor who would oppose us. It is why I brought you to the Mahasabha today, but perhaps the timing of it was unwise. Advise me a different time. Today, I am fraught, and I have no disposition to listen. I have already demonstrated I have no reserve.”
I step closer. “I like you with no reserve.”
His eyes gleam. He glances at me over his shoulder, pausing in his stride, and his look is full of heat and promises and fury. “A foolish thing to say, if you only knew what was on my mind. Do not push. Now is not the time.”
“Why?” I challenge. “Are you scared?”
“No. But perhaps you should be. Do you understand what you are asking?”
“Do you understand what I am offering? What will you truly look like when you’re free? I would like to see that, but your imagined feud with Indra blinds you. Maybeyouare the one hiding from yourself. How ironic that a lesson you tried to teach me, you yourself have failed. How tragic, a yogi afraid of the idea of liberation.”
Laughter erupts from him, grim and raw. “Provocation, Meneka? You’ll have to do better than that. If I reacted that easily, do you think I would be called a sage?”
A torrent of curious challenge goes through me that he should call me out on my plot this way. That he should see the obvious manner in which I am trying to distract him.No easy mark, Rambha’s voice whispers in my head, but instead of fear, I feel excitement that he isnota mark, not anymore, that he is here, fully, as am I. A current rushes through me, hot and tempting, and though I turned the conversation this way to diffuse some of his rage, I suddenly want to see him unleashed with me.
“Sage,” I say quietly. “Nonreacting, wise, fully in control. That is what it means, does it not?”
“You know what it means,” he replies. “Do you think I find your feigned ignorance amusing?”
He turns around fully to face me, his back resting against a tree trunk. His arms cross over his bare chest, and he raises an eyebrow. I utter a small laugh, never taking my gaze off him.
“Feigned?” I say. “We areallignorant, rishi, even the wisest of us in some ways. Who can claim utter knowledge of everything? Even Shiva closes his eyes to the world in order to see beyond the veil of prakriti’s illusion. Even he deliberately wraps himself inonekind of ignorance.”
Kaushika blinks, then his eyes narrow. He doesn’t say anything but does not move, either, as I slowly walk up to him, each step emphasizing my curves. A thrill of terror laces through me, to speak so blatantly to him, skirting the line of discovery and danger now when he is angry, now when I have betrayed him in front of the other sages with my defense of Lord Indra. Still, I come closer, and his gaze flickers to my hips just for an instant. That is the only indication of his lust, but it is enough.
A lazy smile forms on my face. I stop when I am a handsbreadth away from him, but I do not touch him. Instead, I lean forward and slowly place one arm by the side of his head, inches from his neck. My other hand curls gently, not quite a mudra but not far off either. Magic rushes through my body, and in this moment I cannot tell if it is Amaravati’s golden power or the wild prana of tapasya. I am so close to creating an illusion that my fingers quiver.
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but already I can tell the heat of his anger is cooling into amusement and curiosity. “Are you calling me ignorant?” he asks softly.
“Would you like to choose a different word?” I reply.
My words are barely a whisper and his head dips down, his mouth inches from my own, to capture my breath. The movement brings his skin in contact with my hand, and I startle, not expecting it, but Kaushika’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes glint, and suddenly I cannot tell which one of us is in control. My breathing grows faster, my chest rising and falling.
