Ten Heads and a Heart – Love Short Story
Ravana Sita Painting: Image by Nina Paley | Image Source
The animals recognized those footsteps. The vibrations travelled through the earth, before his elongated shadow. Some of it dissipated in the small stones, in the yellow leaves and finally reached to their heart. Their frail heart trembled. Sometimes I think how much memory does a squirrel have? They say it is survival instinct and some term it as circadian oscillations. I will choose the former. The squirrels ran away to their hideouts. Her amicability welcomed them but terror won from love once again. The deer pricked their ears and forged a casual movement into the woods. Birds stopped chirping and a silence prevailed.
She was sitting under the Ashok tree. Draped in an old, tarred yellow sari; she was sitting with her chin resting on the knee of her left leg while the right knee rested on the protruding root of the tree. She noticed the gradually increasing silence. The sound of a pair of heavy feet followed it. Alarmed; a muscle twitched in her left shoulder. Thirteen years of life in woods, walking miles uncountable, lifting firewood sometimes and sometimes earthen pots of water has transformed the princess into a pugilist.
From the periphery of her left eye she see a shadow on the earth creeping towards her. A wave of terror ran through the captive. She can listen to her heartbeat. The muscles in the brain were tensed to the limit. Frozen; she sat in the same posture hearing the sound of the footsteps coming closer. She knew she was being watched by an intense gaze. Women have such intuition. It pierced through her, part by part. The border of her sari covering her head provided no protection. She closed her eyes, her ears turned red and so did the cheeks. She can feel the gaze shifting downwards. From her neck to her left shoulder. “Huh…” she missed a breath as the gaze touched her bosom. Thousands of nerves which end at a particular point of those peaks started titillating. Her breathing grew heavier and so hard she tried assuaging the motion but piece of her sari resting on her left breast moved with every breath she inhaled and exhaled. Ashamed by the bareness, her waist muscles stiffened. She withdrew the visible part of her left arm resting on left thigh. Both her legs contracted to the point that toes curled in.
And the approach of the footsteps ceased. “Sss…” a faint cry left her throat and her lips parted to tremble. The dried leaves crumbled as the footsteps resumed. They were receding. The stout feet regressed. She left the control on her nerves; still breathing heavily, a stream of stress relieving hormones surged through her body. She felt limp and weightless and placed both her hands on the ground to support her shivering torso.
***
Was that just music coming out of the strings of veena he played? I wish I could ask the large green-silk, gold embroidered pillows kept on the either side of him, or the marble pillars with embedded rubies and jade. It was a miracle that the large arms which could lift the dhanusha of Shiva can so tenderly handle the veena. The graphite finish floor reflected the penchant of trance. The serene face, closed eyes, decorated with a smile, moving with the ebb and flow of octaves, clearly displayed that the efforts he was putting in were paying off in terms of ecstasy.
It was Vedavati whom he could see in his mind. Covered in black antelope skin revealed more what it could hide. She was a tapasvani. He could not decide whether the act of being in her satisfied his senses or the realization of the fact that he had her. The act came before her eyes in slow motion and he relived the moments. He grabbed her by her hairs which were tied on her head like that of a hermit. He pulled them back forcefully to see the white skin of her neck and her parted lips. He tore off the only barrier which was a ragged yellow, silk sari!
Suddenly he frowned and realized if the strings of the veena were tuned no more. It was coming all wrong. He clearly remembered Vedavati wearing black antelope skin, how he removed it and how he forced himself till her cries changed the tone. The music came to a halt. He kept the veena aside, joined his hands and bowed in respect to greet the goddess of music and stood up.
Something was wrong. He went to the balcony from the room and placed his strong hands on the wall. The muscles of his arms instantly bulged as he forced them to handle his frame. He looked straight and could see the Trikut Mountains standing in respect to greet his presence. The picture of a tender being sitting alert beneath an Ashok tree at his Ashok Vatika in a yellow ragged sari came in front of her. The salty breeze of wind tried to sooth his compose. The long dark hair rose and landed again on his shoulder. The green emerald laden earrings and gold and pearl necklaces were unmoved. The cream stole which he wore from his waist to his shoulder stirred and so did the orange colored dhoti.
He smiled to himself as he remembered the curse they threw on him after he charmed Vedavati. But he didn’t stop.
“I am a king and it is a king’s prerogative to enjoy parastris”.
He recalled Rambha and many more which still live in his palace and long for him. He nods his head with an amusing smile and turns towards the room with a decisive gait.
“Go; provide her with the best of clothes and jewels. Ask Trijata to feed her properly.” He tells his servants.
***
Clothes adorned with jewels which she has never seen and soft like the fur of rabbit were placed by her side. They take her back to the days of her prim when her articulation could be compared with only those of goddesses. Exotic fruits and delicacies of such tempting smell were there that it could be the food only for the gods. This is the most beautiful garden she has ever seen. The beautiful flowers of so many varieties bloomed there every day that it looks like a bunch of flower. So many trees were there which she had never seen in her palace. There were so many exotic fruits which she was never aware of and even those she knew ripe with such plumpness as if they were a totally different species.
She stood by the side of a mango tree and when the gust of wind forces her to huddle in herself. There was a nip in the air. She tries to walk in order to keep herself warm. Her legs were not supportive as she has not eaten anything since last three days. She moves and her foot entangles in a root and she fell down. She tries to stand but her hands don’t have strength anymore. Darkness falls upon her and she could see stars twinkling. Drops of tear slides on her cheeks and she loses consciousness.
When she opens her eyes she found herself on the bench under a tree. The sun has set and the stars have come out for real. She takes a deep breath and tries to stand. She reaches for the food and eats as much as she could. Then she takes a warm cloth from the heap and goes to sleep. She can feel the same pair of eyes watching her activities.
***
He called her attendants in the morning to ask if she had eaten something today. They all stood bowed to him and nodded in despair.
He stood up from his throne and headed for the garden. There were servants asking her to eat something when he reached there. They all fell silent when they noticed his present. She was not moved today on her arrival. He stood there watching her feeble shape wrapped in the same old rag. She moves her head to the left to confirm his presence by her peripheral vision and remains as it is for some time. He looks at the servants and they understand that he wants him to leave. The silence prevails.
A gust of winds moves from him taking all his grace, power and charm in his scents and stroking her body gently. It was strong enough to remove the veil from her head. She is looking at the earth downwards. His eyes widen to grasp as much glow as they can of her beauty until she covers her head with a swift movement of her left hand. She picks a fruit and takes a bite. He returns to his palace.
***
“My lord our spies have informed us that they are one of the best fighters on the earth. Many of the kingdoms of south have given them support and they have collected a large army of ferocious warriors. I would ask you to consider the option of peace with them and strengthen our relationship” said his brother who was also one of his counsellors.
He doesn’t answer and recluses to his privacy
He moves towards the Ashok Vatika. The servants leave as he approaches but she stands still with her back towards him. He picks most simple yellow silk sari from all the rich clothes kept near her and moves towards her. She hear him approach and a chill of wave pass through her spine. He keeps the sari on the bench nearby and leaves. She eats her food.
He was a poet and he wrote such beautiful verses that none on the earth could match in the intensity of love. He was a musician and he played with so much serenity that the gods would come from the heaven to listen to his tunes. And he prayed. He prayed till the Lord came to see him.
“You have to give her back.” The Lord said.
“No I will not.”
“You can be saved only if you give her back.”
“You are the Lord. Help your devotee.”
“I can help only in some ways. No one can save you if you don’t give her back.” And He leaves him.
He was not at all moved by His warning but he has to decide. As the evening comes he goes to the garden. The servants were not there and she was sitting meekly there as always with her head covered. A strong gust of wind blows to take her veil off her head. The new sari rustled as the breeze stroked her. She lifts her hand to remove the hair try to get into her eyes and mouth and places them behind her ear. He leaves.
***
“We will fight” the king announced that evening among his counsellors.
__END__
