Page 37 of The Legend of Meneka
I shake my head. “Those people—they wanted his favor again. Indra could have saved them.”
“That is not for us to question. We are mere apsaras. These decisions are for Indra and his council.”
“But it is our actions that determine these decisions too,” I say. My fists clench into the grass. I cannot believe how Rambha is missing the point. My voice grows stronger, more insistent. “Rambha, in heaven we do not question anything. As apsaras we are told to obey without doubt. I am sent to marks who would be a danger to the lord, but we are never allowed to ask who else might be hurt with our actions. I think you underestimate the lord—if we only told him about all this, it would change his mind, and shouldn’tthatbe the form of our devotion, to counsel him when he cannot see—”
“Stop it.”
Rambha stands abruptly, and the sharp edge of warning scalds me, the end of her patience with my arguments. My sudden burst of courage dies.
“These are indiscreet thoughts,” she says. “The lord asked for Thumri to be faithful to him even when times were hard—and that should have been enough. Just like it should be enough foryou. Devotion is a twofold path, Meneka. What good is love, what good devotion, if it is only transactional? If it can be taken away so easily, if it has so manydependencies, is it even love at all? The lord has granted you great gifts and power, yet you question his intent because a few mortals have told you their tragic stories. Haveyoulost faith?”
I flinch. My words lock in my throat.
My devotion to the lordhassuffered; it always does in the mortal realm. I was afraid of this very thing occurring. It is why I wanted to remain in Amaravati, never to be sent on another mission. Rambha has reminded me, with nothing but a few choice words, that I can never be like her. She has shown me the impurity of my nature.
Misery sweeps into my heart, and my vision trembles. I drop my gaze.
Rambha’s shadow moves. She sits down next to me again and strokes my cheek. Despite myself, I lean into her touch, too distressed to do anything but take the comfort she is offering me.
“You are a celestial, Meneka,” she says, and her voice is soft. “You are an apsara of Indra’s own court. Do not forget where you come from. Mortals are frail, their faith so often weak. After every Vajrayudh, Indra must work hard to restore their conviction in him, but the fewer prayers they offer, the less he can do for them in return. People like this Kaushika only ruin the cosmic bond between devas and devotees. Indra is growing weaker with each passing day as this Vajrayudh approaches. Should it come and go without Kaushika thwarted, the poison the sage spreads will weaken Indra further even after it passes. All the realms will suffer, and Amaravati will be irrevocably destroyed. You alone can stop this from happening. You understand this, don’t you?”
I nod wretchedly. Rambha pulls me closer, and her breath warms my forehead.
“Please, Meneka,” she whispers, and her voice breaks a little on my name. I lift my head to see the pain and fear on her face that she has desperately been trying to hide. “You are so close. Kaushika is growing infatuated with you; you already know this. You are succeeding in shifting him from the ascetic path. All it will take is one more push.”
I shake my head. I want to tell her how Kaushika becamemorepowerful with the acknowledgment of Shakti. Though he is amenable to how I have been conducting myself in the hermitage, his intent and dislike for Indra have only grown tenfold after what I’ve done. But Rambha’s lips linger on my ear, then drift lower, her tongue flashing out to taste the delicate skin on my neck. I shiver, knowing this is everything I have ever wanted. Everything I can have if Ionly complete my mission. I cannot bring myself to raise any more objections. My eyes drift, closing, and a soft sigh builds in me as her fingers trace gentle patterns on my back.
“You promised me you would give it your everything,” Rambha reminds me, and once again her lips hover over my neck, raising goose pimples. “Fulfill your promise. Now is not the time to worry about your trivial rules. He will give himself over to you if you stop holding back. Kiss him to unlock his secrets. Sleep with him if you need to. I do not care. Just—”
My eyes fly open. I pull away from Rambha, scooting backward, staring at her. “You do not care?” I ask hoarsely.
Rambha studies me, puzzled. “We are apsaras,” she says, shrugging. “Sex is merely sex. It does not need to be any more than simple pleasure. You would even be giving Kaushika what he wants. You did say you saw yourself when you looked into his lust, even though you needed no illusions tocreatethat lust. It sounds like he has simply fallen for your beauty. Would it be so wrong to fulfill his want?”
I withdraw further away from her. I can still feel her touch, but her words are cold water thrown over our moment together. I stare at her, confused, not knowing why I am confused. Is any of this a surprise at all?
Kaushika’s lust did show me my own image, not once but several times. That I did nothing to form that image consciously means only one thing—he desires me. He has always desired me. There is a kind of freedom in that; I am not to blame for what happens to him.
Yet my feelings for Rambha tangle in the roots of duty and the dreams of lust. Iwanther to tell me she desires me for herself. Iwanther to feel upset with the idea of me giving myself over to him, even if it is for the mission. In the depths of my own foolish naïveté, I want her tocare. Care more about me than her love and duty for Indra.
Yet even beyond that, I want her to understand me. I want her tosee why the prospect of sleeping with Kaushika, even if that is what his lust shows, feels abhorrent to me when I have come to him masked by trickery. I have felt this way about all my marks; it is the reason I do not lie with them. It is the one thing that has always bothered me about my own identity as an apsara. The one thing Rambha has never understood.
She tilts her head, searching my silence. “Are you truly so prideful?” she asks, and I am surprised that she can see my thoughts so clearly. “You have always held it in such high esteem, to never involve yourself with a mark, but this is our skill as apsaras, and using it does not take away from your talent as a dancer. How can you hold back the most powerful tool at your disposal? Find that perfect shape he desires and end this mission. Is that not the most important thing?”
I say nothing, doubts choking my throat. Of course she says this. She has always been more an apsara than I have ever been. She has been a true creature of lust, as Indra has decreed us to be. To Rambha, sleeping with a mark is no different from speaking to one, all of it done for the singular intent of serving Indra. Can I do this with Kaushika, after what he has shown me of himself? Is this the true meaning of being an apsara—and why I have never felt I was enough? Am I denying my true nature? One final act … Will this finally teach me who I am?
Rambha gazes at me, her eyes beseeching. “You can end this, Meneka,” she says. “Once and for all. Find your opportunity. Seduce him before the Vajrayudh arrives. For your sake, and the sake of the world. Promise me you will not back down, not when you are so close.”
Her words, Kaushika’s scent, Indra’s pride, all of them cloud me. I think of Kaushika and the shape of his seduction. The feel of his legs against mine and the image of my own pleasure at his center. He desires me—but what did it mean that I looked into his lust only to find my own? Was that image truly his, or did his warding somehowreflect my magic back toward me? What does any of it even matter, if it is giving me what I need for my mission? Am I not here for one purpose?
The afternoon stifles me, each question a barb burrowing under my skin. I cannot speak, but Rambha still gazes at me expectantly. My mouth feels filled with rocks, but I cannot deny the reason in her words.
Slowly, very slowly, I nod.
CHAPTER 16
The day of the Initiation Ceremony dawns with storm clouds wrapping the sky. Kaushika meant to conduct the ceremony in the courtyard, but Anirudh tells me that tapasya cannot be wasted today in creating shields from the rain. Arrangements are made inside the pillared pavilion. A platform is raised in the center, wide enough for each disciple’s performance to be viewed. The air is thick with the scent of camphor and woodchips, and Romasha chants in her clear voice, thumping at a hand drum. The rest of us sit crosslegged on the floor, awaiting our turn.
I thread the flower garland I made through my fingers, forcing myself not to crush the petals in my nervousness. Next to me, Kalyani clutches her own offering to the ceremony, a thin gold bracelet she acquired as a blessing for helping the nearby village of Rastha only a few days ago. After Thumri, word spread of our aid, and more yogis were given leave to help. Other disciples hold their own gifts, flowers and fruits, gold coins and small jewels—all of these either acquired personally or given as thanks for pious acts performed. As each disciple steps forward to Kaushika on the platform, they offer these up to him. I watch Kaushika place the gifts at Shiva’s altar before anointing the disciple with vibhuti, the sacred ash made of burned wood.
