Page 83 of The Legend of Meneka
Then it solidifies into black marble, resembling an obelisk. Eka hurries forward and hands some tools over to Kaushika, who kneels and begins carving the dark rock. The marble begins to take shape under his touch. It is an apology. A regret. A shrine.
I stare at him for a moment longer, contemplating the stiff lines of his back. Only when Kalyani pulls me back to work do I blink and look away from Kaushika.
On the fifth day, when it becomes clear that Kaushika does not intend to leave, and instead help with setting things aright, Nanda corners him. I am surprised. Though she has so far given him dark, hateful glances, she has kept out of his way. But she has been growing incandescent with rage ever since the appearance of the marble obelisk, and now she marches up to him.
Tears glow in her eyes, and her face trembles. “Mortal,” she says without preamble, “you desecrated me.”
Kaushika straightens slowly from easing the earth back from the ruptures the war has caused. His hands drop by his sides. His mantras cease. He looks like he has been expecting this. He looks tired.
“It was done in error,” he says in a low voice. “I ask for forgiveness.”
Nanda spits at his feet. “Forgiveness?” she demands. “Ten thousandyears you cursed me. To become inanimate rock for tenthousandyears, trapped within my own mind. If Meneka had not released me, I would be nothing. I would be less than nothing.”
“Yes,” Kaushika says. His gaze locks on mine. “But what would have happened to me, apsara, if I had not defended myself? If I had simply let you command me without my permission? WouldIhave been less than nothing?”
For the space of a second, I can’t breathe.
I stare at him, my mouth dry. His gaze burns like hot coals, full of promises. Full of danger and hunger.
Nanda screams and shouts, but I barely register it, and neither does Kaushika. Our eyes are only for each other, and within his regard, I sense turmoil, and confusion, and sincerity. It is only when Nanda pushes his chest in anger that his gaze flickers away from mine. I take a breath, thinking to calm her, but the moment has passed. Spitting and cursing, she disappears, carried by the wind of Amaravati.
The other mortals begin muttering, but Kaushika simply returns to his task, easing the earth into place again in undulating waves. His fingers move in front of him as though he is playing an instrument. I turn back to my own work, my mind confused, my chest hollow.
I stay away for the rest of the day, wandering through the forest, collecting firewood and berries. I cannot stop thinking about what Nanda said, and how Kaushika responded. I cannot get the image of Kaushika out of my mind. The way we held each other. The way he pleaded, asking me who I was. The way he watched me, not a few hours ago. What is he thinking? I only need to ask. I understand his silence is not to punish me. It is in daring not to presume. Command and consent. Is this the true seduction?
When I finally return, it is dusk. I hope to sneak into camp, but I arrive to see everything cleared and put away. The hut we have been making is complete. Anirudh, Kalyani, and the other mortals lingerat the threshold, watching as Kaushika carves the marble sculpture with his tools. Anirudh spies me first, and his face breaks into a smile.
“Meneka,” he says, and beyond him, Kaushika stills. “You’re back, finally. We didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”
My heart sinks. “You’re leaving too?”
“We must,” Kalyani says, hugging me. “We have duties at the hermitage. A life we must return to.”
“You could come with us,” Romasha adds. “There are still things you can learn from us, and teach us too.”
I glance at her face. My heart breaks in that moment as I think of my friends and their laughter. They accepted me, despite myself,asmyself.
I shake my head. I cannot go back there. I am not done here in this forest. I have not decided my path forward. It would not be the right thing.
Anirudh and Romasha exchange a look, though Kalyani looks saddened and unsurprised. “We understand,” she says quietly. “But know that you will always be welcome there. No matter what.”
I hug each of them in turn and watch as they collect their bedrolls and strap them to their backs. A lump grows in my throat, and I swallow it, watching their shadows disappear.
Then there is no avoiding it.
I turn to Kaushika, who stands up from his sculpture and glances up at me warily.
“You are not going back to your hermitage,” I say.
“You are not returning to your city,” he points out.
“I have unfinished business here.”
“As do I.”
I don’t reply but merely stare at him, my chin lifted. Kaushika turns back to the sculpture, and I see then that it is not a shrine to the fallen. It is a statue of a dancer, her head thrown back, arms raised to the sky.
It is more than I can take.
