Page 84 of The Legend of Meneka
Eyes filling with tears, I enter the hut to escape him.
He does not follow.
WE FALL INTO A STRANGE RHYTHM.
Every morning Kaushika tends the fire, or cleans the area around the hut, or makes a meal, similar to the fare we ate at the hermitage. I wander into the forest, collecting herbs and berries, one time finding wild potatoes, bringing them back to this place that we share.
We rarely speak, except in constrained politeness, the air between us thick with unspoken feelings, unanswered questions.
I dare not disturb this uneasy peace. What will I say? Where will I begin? Is it not better to delay? Kaushika is deliberate too. His aura still forces my attention, but there is something subdued about it after the battle. A thoughtfulness I am surprised to see.
He has never been volatile, but a steadiness accompanies him now, and for the first time since we met I understand how he is truly a sage. The steadfastness and solidity that tapasya requires, the long hours of meditation … Before this, I had only seen him performing magic or leading other students. I had only seen the prince and the warrior. This quiet economy and unobtrusiveness of existence is a whole new side of him, yet new only to me. It is a kind of trust, I realize. To let me see him this way.
It is slow—this return to trust.
It appears in fleeting moments.
One time I arrive at the small pool near the hut to bathe, and Kaushika is already there. He is submerged to the waist, his dark skin glistening, performing prayers while in the water. I hesitate, then remove my clothes to enter the same pool. So what if he is praying? The pool is mine as much as his.
He knows I am there, but he does not open his eyes as he pours the water from cupped hands onto his hair and into the pool again. It is trust, again, a measure of it. To not interrupt him. To not be interrupted.
I gaze upon his muscular body, filled out like a warrior. He does not open his eyes, but his throat moves in a swallow, and my stomach stirs in anticipation.You are a sage, I think.And I am an apsara. That will never change.
I linger, watching his chest beaded with water, his neck open to the skies in offering, his lips that murmur a prayer. When he is done, he rises, unashamed of his nakedness. He gives no indication of noticing me, but after he puts his clothes back on he gives me a brief nod before disappearing into the trees. Trust, again. For more than the lust I feel within me.
Things begin appearing in the hut, day by day. Furniture, clothes, plates and cutlery. I return from the forest to see them there, Kaushika tending quietly to them, making this a place of comfort. At first, I resist the pull of my curiosity, but when there is no sign of him breaking first, I cannot help but ask. I sit opposite him, by an evening fire. I have been folding laundry, but my fingers stop and I clear my throat.
“Where is this coming from? The hermitage?”
Kaushika pauses as he unpacks a set of plain kurta and pajamas. He shakes his head. “The meadow,” he answers. “When my army abandoned it, we did not take everything from there.”
Of course.I try not to flinch. “What has become of your army?” I ask.
“They have returned to where they came from. I have sent the survivors home.”
“But the meadow still exists,” I remark.
“It does,” he says softly. “The army will return when I ask them to. They have only returned to a realm that is more sustainable than the meadow, even though the halahala has disappeared.”
He gives me a knowing look, as though he understandsIhad something to do with the removal of the poison, but I just laugh humorlessly, hands tightening on the sheet I fold. “Is that your unfinished business then? You retain your army and your meadow because you prepare for a second battle?”
His eyes meet mine across the distance. I feel my cheeks warming. It is a cruel question, a foolish one. I do not think he will reply, but he surprises me.
“No,” he says quietly. “The battle is finished for now.”
But not forever, I think. Still, I cannot help the lightness in my heart. He is here. He has not left. It must mean something.
He hesitates a long moment, then his eyes rest on mine. “I never lied to you, Meneka.”
“Did I?” I retort.
“By omission, don’t you think?” he says quietly.
It is true, and perhaps I should feel shame for it, but I do not. I raise my chin in silent defiance. Kaushika shakes his head as though to deny any need for a challenge.
“It is only a thought,” he says mildly. “It is not an accusation.” His eyes flit away from me, back into the woods, toward where the hermitage lies. “I will leave if you want. From here. From your forest.”
An ache grows in me, sharp and confusing. “Why are you here at all?”
