Abhaya, page 22
“Quiet, Yuvati,” he whispered to the woman. “You shall not be harmed.”
He entered the last door of the inner fort of the temple town that granted access to the apartments of the mahadevi. His eyes looked around in a frantic search for his daughter. But his pace did not slow down until he reached the doors to Dhatri’s chambers and pushed them open.
“Remember this, Yuvati,” Mura’s words fell into the woman’s ear. When she looked at him, he shook his head and shifted his attention when another voice greeted him.
“I did not think you would defy the orders and come in, Mura.” Dhatri appeared at the door, escorted by two other women.
Mura’s eyes clouded. He placed the woman down gently on a seat and bowed.
“By Kamaksha, what have you done to her? Why do I have to see an injured woman in your arms every time?”
“Not he,” the woman replied, rising and settling on the stone.
Dhatri glanced at the woman, then turned back to Mura. “Leave.” Her voice was just louder than a whisper but the authority in it was audible.
Mura opened his mouth but she waved away his explanation.
“Leave,” she repeated.
Mura had no choice but to comply.
Dhatri sat on the other stone seat and gestured to her escorts. “Untie her.”
The blood rushing back into her limbs made the woman cringe in pain. A female guard entered, requesting a quick word with Dhatri. As she left, Dhatri turned again. “So, you instigated other women to rebel against our group in Varanasi and made them leave?”
“You have some good storytellers for guards!”
Dhatri frowned. Rebellious women were not new to her and she knew exactly how to make them accept the ways of Kamarupa. She did not believe in coercion and most women submitted, some to her kindness, some to her authority and others to her patience. Looking at the defiance in the new woman’s eyes, Dhatri was already thinking of which path to adopt.
“When did you last eat, Yuvati?”
The woman remained silent and looked away.
“Wouldn’t you like to bathe and eat first before you tell me your side of the story?”
When the woman returned her gaze to Dhatri, her eyes were spitting fire.
Dhatri moved to her side. “Treat me like a mother, Vatse. It pains me if you starve. Trust me, I shall not harm you and you shall be safe.”
“Your group, Devi, was luring and kidnapping innocent girls, barely into their teens. Those who resisted were drugged or starved and even beaten into submission!” She glared at Dhatri. “I only helped them escape so they could return to their homes.”
Dhatri stared at her without batting an eyelid. She took a deep breath and rose to her feet, unsmiling. “The ones who harmed those girls shall be punished.” She put her hand on her head. “Vatse, your courage has won me over. Bathe, eat and braid this lustrous hair of yours. Rest for today. And trust me to watch over you. What do they call you, Yuvati?”
The woman looked up at her defiantly, suspicion still visible in her eyes.
“Abhaya ... Dhaarmaseni.”
“Fearless one,” Dhatri smiled. “An apt name for one such as you. You shall dine with me at noon. Mother Kamaksha tells me that you are an invaluable child of hers.”
Dhatri looked at the female guards, a different light flashing in her eyes. Coming out of Abhaya’s earshot, she ordered, “Tell Lord Bhauma that I want to see him.”
The female guard faltered in surprise at the abrupt change in Dhatri’s manner, then hurried towards Bhauma’s mansion.
Abhaya looked after her as Dhatri went inside. All the physical pain she had had to suffer on the way had finally borne fruit. She had reached the epicentre of the Shakta religion.
Kamarupa.
One of the escorts held out a hand to help her up.
If only I can make this woman who is revered here see the consequences of what they have done. If only I can know more about these people and plan my next move.
Abhaya took a deep breath, waved away the outstretched hand and rose to her feet.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The altitude and cold wind blowing against her face were something Abhaya was not used to. It added to the lingering fatigue from the rough journey she had had. The sentry at the gate of the innermost walls cast an unsure glance when she asked him the whereabouts of Senapati Mura, then complied with a shrug. Following Dhatri’s new decree to not limit women’s movements within the walls of Kamarupa, there was not much he could do.
When she stepped into the courtyard of what she was told were Mura’s quarters, Abhaya felt the simplicity of the house striking. In contrast to the glitter and conspicuous prosperity of the inner township, the senapati’s quarters were practically monastic. The most aesthetic aspect of the courtyard was a painting on the wall, of the face of the Supreme Goddess Shakti. Abhaya remembered noticing a similar wall painting on a couple of other houses, including that of Dhatri’s.
Mura came out to the courtyard dressed in his official attire—leather armour, a lower garment in red and a thick cape pinned to his shoulders. Two swords hung at his waist and Abhaya saw him holding a blunt club menacing enough to make anyone think twice before rubbing him the wrong way. He looked surprised to see her.
“You...”
Abhaya held out his shawl. “I came to return this ... Senapati Mura.” Mura nodded in acknowledgement. His face remained stern but Abhaya saw kindness in his eyes. “I am indebted to you for your generosity, in the wake of your people’s boorish behaviour.”
Mura took the shawl, studying her closely. “Have you rested well?” he enquired with a courteous smile.
Abhaya gave him a sarcastic smile and brought her palms together before turning to leave. Mura saw defiance in her eyes and his chest constricted. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “Wait, Vatse...”
She froze, then turned slowly, with genuine surprise in her eyes. Mura shook his head and turned away. Abhaya saw his inner struggle in the way he clenched his fists.
“Could you...” Mura left the sentence incomplete and, signalling her to wait, disappeared into the house. He reappeared carrying a wooden toy, a model of a cart painted red and bearing a similar impression of the face of Shakti in white. Mura handed it to Abhaya, who examined it in surprise.
“If you spot an eight-year-old child who is under the care of the mahadevi ... her name is Kamakanthika. She also responds to Mauri.”
“I shall give it to her,” Abhaya affirmed, touched.
Mura nodded his gratitude. He hesitated, then added, “The mahadevi might not approve of your coming here like this.”
“Senapati, I am no slave of your mahadevi.”
“A little discretion won’t hurt, Vatse, especially in hostile lands,” Mura muttered.
Abhaya considered his last words on her way back to the inner township. The weight of her mission still sat heavily on her shoulders. She knew she needed allies and Mura held promise. Abhaya studied the toy in her hand. There remained the matter of this child.
His daughter? The name Mauri suggests so.
Late morning was a quiet time in the circular yard behind the sanctum. When Abhaya entered the yard, she saw two children playing. The elder one, about eight years of age, was arranging pebbles according to some shape in her mind and the younger girl, about six years of age, was bent upon altering the shape.
“I know more than you, Nandini!” the elder girl shouted in exasperation.
“You are wrong, Mauri!” the younger one retorted.
“Nandini, this is how the fort is built. We shall ask mahadevi and she will tell you that I am right,” Mauri said.
But Nandini continued rearranging the pebbles her way.
“Listen to me!” Mauri snapped, pushing the pebbles away.
Nandini broke into tears.
“Now, now! Children, don’t fight.” Abhaya stepped between them and drew Nandini closer. “Mauri, I thought your father said you are a good girl. Nice girls don’t yell at smaller children.”
“They don’t!” Nandini affirmed through her tears.
“So, I shall not give Mauri the toy her father sent for her,” Abhaya said, winking at Nandini.
“My father has gone far away. How did you meet him?” Mauri asked, brushing Abhaya’s sermon aside.
“Your father…” Abhaya stared at her, then nodded with effort, “has gone far away.”
“Far … far ... away,” Mauri stretched her right arm to indicate the western horizon. “Did you meet him?”
Abhaya was shocked at what the child had been told when Mura was just outside the gates. She smiled at the girl and held up the wooden cart Mura had given her. “What did he tell you before he left?”
“He never told me anything. I was asleep. He left in the night. Mahadevi told me he will return when I grow as big as you. Give that to me.” Mauri reached out for the toy but Abhaya lifted it out of her reach.
“First promise me you shall not yell at Nandini.”
“But she is wrong!” Mauri shouted. “There are no steps at the back door. They are broken. Father showed me a long time ago.”
“How can there be a door without steps?” Nandini appealed to Abhaya. “This Mauri refuses to take me there so I cannot prove her wrong.”
“Which door are you girls talking about?” Abhaya calmed them. “I shall see and decide which one of you is right.”
“But the door is locked. We cannot go there,” Mauri explained, pointing in the direction. “Give me the toy.”
Abhaya smiled and held out the toy cart.
“Nothing for me?” Nandini asked, scratching her head.
Abhaya patted her head. “I will bring another one for you, too.”
“You can play with this till then,” Mauri offered.
The girls forgot their pebbles and pranced away to play with their new toy.
“You have a way with children. A natural maternal instinct.”
Abhaya turned, recognising the voice. She considered the approaching woman with raised eyebrows.
“The poor girl is being told an untruth!” she said. Her palms came together in salutation, but she did not bow. “…Mahadevi.”
“That is an affair I would rather not see you involved in,” Dhatri said. For someone who was only a religious head, Dhatri, Abhaya felt, had too much authority. “Were you always a stubborn upstart or…?”
“Where would my world of Aryas encourage girls to be stubborn or bold? I had a magical transformation the moment I set my foot in this holy place. The Goddess entered me and made me realise I don’t need to regard anyone with undue reverence—be it the Goddess herself or her stooges.”
“Yuvati!” Dhatri cautioned, gritting her teeth. “A day might come when the Goddess will suck every ounce of arrogance out of you, a day the entire world, including that of your Aryas, falls at her feet in supplication.”
“Why do you tolerate this one so much, Mahadevi?” The female guard behind Dhatri came forward but halted when Dhatri raised her arm.
Dhatri caught Abhaya by her arm and led her towards the mansion beside the temple. Abhaya shrugged off the grip but followed Dhatri. She wanted to explore the place and find out everything she could.
These people lie to a child about her father. A man as strong as Mura is helpless. The girl seems to be held a prisoner without her knowledge. Mahadevi’s words are the law of the land. What kind of place is this?
For all her suspicions, though, Abhaya could not find a single trace of malice in Dhatri. Who, then, was responsible?
She did not have to wait long to find an answer as she followed Dhatri into a huge hallway. Two burly guards bowed low at the sight of Dhatri and held a door open. Dhatri led Abhaya inside. The door closed behind them. Abhaya instinctively felt for her dagger, then remembered with a pang of disappointment that she had lost it in Varanasi.
Seated on a carved metal jhoola, Bhauma watched the women enter his room. He rose as they approached and greeted Dhatri, who returned his salutation with a wave. “Hear this girl out, Bhauma. She is a princess from the far western provinces and has something disturbing to share.”
Bhauma turned and greeted Abhaya. When their gazes met, Abhaya felt instinctively wary. His grey hair suggested he was in his late fifties or even older. But his arms and shoulders boasted the strength of a much younger man. She returned his salutation and sat on the seat he indicated, before the huge swing. The chains that bore the swing creaked as Bhauma’s immense bulk descended on it. Dhatri moved to Bhauma’s side and took her place.
“Tell me everything, Devi,” Bhauma said, looking first at Dhatri and then at Abhaya.
“Arya Bhauma,” Abhaya began but he stopped her with a raised finger.
“I don’t go by the name of Arya. I am only a devotee of the Goddess, Devi.”
His tone suggested a hatred for the word more than his devotion to the Goddess.
“Address him as prabho. He is the lord of this place,” Dhatri said.
Abhaya gripped the hand rest, glaring at both of them. “May I remind you that I am no slave? This gentleman is not my lord, nor are you my mistress, Mahadevi.”
Bhauma raised an eyebrow in displeasure. But he spoke in a measured tone. “We can do away with formalities. You can call me Bhauma.”
“Your men, Lord of Kamarupa, abducted innocent adolescent girls from the villages of Bharatavarsha. The defenceless girls were bound against their will and even starved and coerced into obedience. When I helped them escape, your people held me prisoner and injured me.”
Bhauma’s eyes closed and his hands covered his ears as though her words were too difficult to bear. “May the Goddess forgive our sins. This is unfortunate.”
Abhaya sighed at the response. Dhatri spoke, “Identify the soldiers and we shall punish and chastise them.”
“What about the women still held by you against their will?” Abhaya demanded, alternating her gaze between Bhauma and Dhatri. She noticed Bhauma looking at Dhatri before either of them spoke anything.
“We have not kept anyone against their will. All the women with whom you came—we will inform them of our faith and our ways. The introduction shall not take more than a week. After that…”
“It is up to the will of the Supreme Goddess,” Bhauma interjected with a smile.
Abhaya caught the momentary frown that appeared on Dhatri’s forehead but then she smiled in response.
“From what I hear, the women here do not have a choice or the freedom to leave. They are prisoners here.” She sneered.
Bhauma rose, startling even Dhatri in his abruptness. “Devi! How dare anyone insult our treatment of women?” Dhatri caught his arm from behind. She could not see what Abhaya saw—the flash of anger on Bhauma’s face at her interruption, which he quickly brought under control. When he turned towards Dhatri, his eyes carried the same reverence she always saw.
“Let me handle this, Bhauma,” she told him.
Bhauma bowed. Turning towards Abhaya, he said, “Disrespect towards the mahayogini, Devi, is beyond my tolerance. I hope you shall not take undue advantage of her limitless compassion and provoke the rage of the Supreme Goddess!”
“Bhauma,” Dhatri protested again. She lowered her tone and gave him a meaningful look that Abhaya could not read. “Leave now. I shall take care of the rest. I had called on you only to ensure that the soldiers who harmed the women are punished.”
With another slight nod, Bhauma turned, casting another long glance at Abhaya before taking his leave. Abhaya looked after him. Bhauma made her feel uncomfortable. In the course of the conversation, she had felt him, despite his advanced years, look at her with desire. She had resisted the urge to pull her shawl tighter around herself and glared back at him instead. With Dhatri, Abhaya had to admit, she felt coerced with all the talk of the Shakta cult but never threatened.
“You may retire now, Yuvati. Join the other women in the quarters allotted in the middle ring of the town. We shall talk tomorrow.”
“A request, Devi,” Abhaya said. Dhatri raised her brows. “Let me have a weapon to defend myself.”
“You need not fear anyone here,” Dhatri responded. But she seemed to reconsider and held out a scimitar, which Abhaya thought looked more like a slaughter knife than a battle sword. “It will be taken back if I come to know that you caused trouble with it,” she warned.
“I do not seek trouble, Mahadevi, and I hope I will not find it,” Abhaya said, taking the weapon.
Dhatri rose. A female guard showed Abhaya the way out of the innermost fortress towards the rooms that Dhatri had indicated. Alone at last, for the first time since she began her quest, Abhaya felt foolish about her decision to pursue the Shaktas alone. The idealistic voice that had prodded her all along faded away. She felt like she had been released from the hold of an unseen power that had controlled her all this time. The feeling sat bitterly on her tongue. But she knew this was not the time for regrets. The probability of anyone in Indraprastha tracking her to this end of Bharatavarsha was bleak. She remembered her promises to Krishna and her eyes misted over with tears. She would not be able to keep even one of them. She swallowed hard, convincing herself to play along and rely on her resources to fight back the Shakta powers. That seemed to be the only way ahead.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The temple of Kamaksha had all the splendour worthy of the high seat of the ancient Shakta order. The sculptures and art on the walls spoke of the ancient tales and legends behind its establishment. The stories were not new to anyone from Bharatavarsha but Abhaya observed that the tone and message of the very same stories underwent a significant change in Kamarupa.
The temple city was closed to pilgrims on this particular day, which was reserved for orientation—when Dhatri took it upon herself to introduce the order of Shaktas to the maidens who came to Kamarupa from various corners of Bharatavarsha. Abhaya threw glances at the other women around her. While a few betrayed their reluctance at being there, some dwelt sincerely upon the legends that were being expounded. Still others bore an inscrutable expression that she found difficult to interpret.
