Page 28 of The Legend of Meneka
“I said Imight,” he says. “I’m exercising my choice not to.”
I make a frustrated sound in my throat. Light from a nearby lamp falls on his face, shadows and darkness, a glint of amusement, laughter in his eyes. He waves his hand, and the air shield over me dissolves. I am drenched in seconds, and so is he, but he does not seem to mind the rain any more than I do. His kurta clings to him and I try not to stare at the shape of his body, still shaken by the image I saw in seeking his seduction.
“Better go inside, Meneka,” he says, grinning. “Unless you know the rune to block this downpour?”
I shake my head, and he laughs. Thunder crashes, and the horse turns, the splashing sounds of horse and rider receding.
I stand in the rain for a long time.
CHAPTER 12
Itell no one about my private lesson with Kaushika. The day after the temple I meet Anirudh and Kalyani again in the courtyard for practice before breakfast, and the anxiety on their faces transforms into wonder and relief when I silently re-create the rune of delight I made for Kaushika.
Without his consecrated amulet, the rune is weak this time. Still, the shape grows for a few seconds, shimmering like dewdrops, reflecting in the mortals’ widening eyes. Kalyani begins whooping and clapping even before it fully forms. Anirudh’s serious face shines with quiet satisfaction. I release the rune, and it explodes like a silent firecracker, too frail to suffuse me and my two mortal friends with its power.
Even so, startled laughter echoes around us, made not through magic but sincere joy. Suddenly, I am surrounded by others who have watched this. They pat me on the back, congratulate me, embrace me. The usual murmuring silence of the courtyard is broken by elated celebration and laughter. I cannot help but smile back, unable to hide the pride on my face.
“You did it,” beautiful Romasha says with a rare smile. “You must tell us what changed in your practice to finally allow this.”
I look beyond her to all the listening ears. Burly Jaahnav, who is the tallest disciple in the hermitage, his aura always peaceful, his ideas on dharma always pious; little Durvishi, who is the youngest and most thoughtful, who could argue even Kaushika into rueful acceptance of her philosophy; smiling Parasara, who everyone believes will followthe path of a rishi first because of his utter devotion to Shiva. Dozens and dozens of them, abandoning their practice, eager to listen to my words. Each and every one of them kind and gentle, wanting me to succeed so I can bring honor to the hermitage. Each and every one of them a danger to Lord Indra on their ascetic path to become sages, who would destroy maya, destroy me and my kind, in their pursuit of enlightenment. My moment of pride shatters like broken glass.
My smile is brittle. “I remembered love.”
“What do you mean?” Eka asks. She is smaller than I am, though the same age. Her aura is red and gold, scented with cinnamon.
I drop my eyes. “I am not sure Kaushika will like me to speak of it.”
As expected, that simply stirs more questions.
Kalyani squeezes my hand. Anirudh cocks his head curiously.
I meet his gaze. “You were right. It was the ascetic path I was failing at. But it was not my failure, it was the failure of the path itself. The power of the universe is that of love, the utter devotion Shiva and Shakti have for each other. This is what I remembered at the temple. This is what a yogi must understand to truly unlock their power.”
Next to Anirudh, Romasha stills. Her eyes narrow in thought, a sharp glance thrown at me. The others begin murmuring, Parasara saying how he had considered this too, but did not think to speak it, Jaahnav and Eka debating whether Shiva is angry with the hermitage because of this oversight. I let the mutterings build as others begin to chime in, then when it threatens to become too loud, I flicker my fingers to create another rune, the peaceful aum that connects individual prana to that of the universe.
This time I curve my wrists into a mudra of Light’s Dance as well. It is a risk—especially now that Romasha is watching me so intently. I remember how I wondered if Kaushika had feelings for her. I do not believe that anymore, not after witnessing the shape of his seduction—but she is still someone to be wary of, suspicious asshe is of me. Yet it is this very suspicion that emboldens me, streaking through me like a lightning bolt of rebellion. I cannot show the yogis any true illusions lest they learn who I really am, but merged in this way with a mortal magic, the rune rises above us with the rainbow power of the cosmos.
The chatter cuts out abruptly as all eyes track it. It is larger than any rune I’ve seen anyone create, half true and half illusion, growing above the courtyard, over the very hermitage, revolving and shining like a beacon. I hold on to the tether from heaven, feeding the illusion half of it, even as it expands. Then I release it, letting it shower everyone with sparks of light.
“Love,” I say softly, “is an understated power. Would you not agree?”
The others stare at me, and I see the seed of doubt grow within their eyes. It rewards me, it shames me, and I greet this blend of emotions like the familiar friend it is.
I am besieged by questions for the rest of the day. Disciples I have never spoken to come to me, making an excuse to assist me with my chores, wanting to know more about the Goddess. Aypan, an androgynous yogi who usually prefers meditation to debate, clutches my hand in theirs, speaking of Shiva as Ardhanareshwar, the form of the Lord that is neither male nor female. I embrace them, stroking their hair, the firewood we’re collecting forgotten as we reminisce about past lovers and how we left pieces of ourselves in their souls. I think of Kaushika and his injunction to let the past lie, and Indra smiles in my head from memory. I laugh with Aypan, knowing I am finally succeeding in my mission.
Matronly Shubha confides in me that she left her family behind to learn at the hermitage. Tears glisten in her eyes as the both of us knead dough. “These sugar rotis were her favorite,” she says, speaking of her young daughter. “I think of her every day, but I have wonderedif doing so was a betrayal of the asceticism Kaushika requires. Is this why my magic suffers?”
“Without love, asceticism is sterile,” I say sympathetically. “Thinking of who you love will only enhance your magic for the Initiation Ceremony. It has mine.”
She nods, weeping silently, and I pat her shoulder, knowing that another one of these yogis is mine.
Kalyani herself tells me that she left a young man behind in her village. She removes a faded lily from her pocket, preserved through magic, its petals glistening with trapped dew. “He gave this to me on the day I left,” she says quietly. “I’ve burned everything else I brought with me when I came to the hermitage. But this one thing I could not.”
“Perhaps you never need to,” I reply softly. “If you can channel your affection into your prana, would that not be in service to Shiva too, in a way?”
Kalyani nods contemplatively, and my own prana rushes through my heart, a blazing torrent of water. Lacing this power is a twisting strand of fear. Kaushika will not like any of this. He will be angry, perhaps seeing how I have warped his admission of my knowledge of Shiva into something he would never countenance for the whole hermitage. He might even seek to remove me from here, yet I have gained enough influence. I will not leave easily, and the others will protest. His hermitage will break apart if he tries. Thus, worried though I am, I shine in my own luster, finally embracing that I am worthy of this mission. Have I not accomplished what other apsaras could not? Kaushika is vulnerable, his group of yogis weakened. The sweet poison of my words flows stealthily among them, unseen, unchallenged.
That night the hermitage rings not with hymns and mantras to Shiva but to Shakti—hymns I learned playing by Queen Shachi’s knees while she threaded flowers in my hair. A student whose name Idon’t know sings this song now, and I sit at the back, chanting with the rest of them, attempting to hide my smile.
