Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
I grow lightheaded as we leave the lord. His power retracts from me, and I am suddenly alone with myself, reminded of who I am—a mere apsara, unsure of her place. The familiarity of Amaravati mocks me, whispers and taunts in every turn of the breeze. The golden, shimmering light is abruptly too bright, blinding me. I notice irrelevant details—the curve of a pillar, the etching on a wall, Rambha’s lustrous braid. My skin grows hot, then cool by turns, like I am about to take sick. My mind is blurred from the throne room, skipping from my desperation, to Indra’s enchantment, to the hot temptation of freedom. I oscillate between feeling powerful and poor, wanting to stand tall then slump in exhaustion. By the time Rambha and I return to the adjoining alcove, I am so lost in myself that my head is hurting and my throat is choked.
Rambha spins on me the moment we enter. She grabs my shoulders and shakes me hard. “How could you do this? That senseless boon to ask, and then to volunteer for this mission. What were you thinking?”
“I—I was thinking of you. T-To be like you. I meant to surprise you.”
“Instead, you blindsided me. Did you really think Indra was going to grant you freedom? He did not even know your name until tonight. You have no idea the things I did to prove my devotion to him. You have no idea what he and I share, what we’ve been through.”
I recoil from her sharp words. I have never seen her so upset.
Her cheeks are flushed with anger, and her aura glints crimson, its power lashing at me like a whip. Her scent grows sharp, spicy. I step back from her, alarm clearing my head of its despair, but when she sees the expression on my face, the anger seeps out of her own. Slowly, her aura calms down, back into its usual peaceful state.
“Meneka,” she says softly, “what have you done, my love?”
She tugs me down to sit next to her, and I lay my head on her shoulder.
For a while, we remain still. Rambha strokes my hair over and over again. I try to contain my turmoil, but the moments in Indra’s throne room play in my mind repeatedly. I think of any other way the situation could have gone. How else I should have reacted to get what I want, and whether my desire for freedom had always been unattainable. I wonder if I could simply beg for forgiveness now, or if Indra would listen if I attempted to seduce Kaushika but said it was too hard.
Such a way of thinking is futile. Apsaras cannot fail missions. Once an apsara goes on a mission, she can only return if she is successful. If she is not, she is left in the mortal realm, exiled until she can prove her devotion to the lord in some other manner.
I shudder against Rambha. A shaky breath falls from my lips. I cannot believe this is how it will end. We were both here in this very alcove minutes ago. I had been contemplating telling her then of my plan, of my feelings , but if her words to me since are any indication, she would have simply rejected me, if only to save me. A detached horror grows inside me as I accept the inevitability of my circumstances. This is the only way this could have gone. I try to breathe her in, screwing my eyes shut, attempting to forget what happened and delay the moment when I will be lost to the mortal realm. If she is truly my home, then this is all I have. I attempt to still my trembling shoulders, but wetness trickles into my hair, and my eyes fly open. Rambha is crying.
I immediately straighten, my own self-pity disappearing in the face of her sorrow. “I will be all right,” I say.
“You will,” she agrees vehemently, wiping her tears. “I am sending you with jewelry that channels more magic than you have ever used before. You will find this mortal man, and you will show him who you are, and you will return to me.” Her fingers flutter over my face again, cupping my cheek. “You will return to me.”
We are so close, her breath mingles with mine.
I want to say something. Make a move. Lean forward.
The emotion whirls in me, needing . I can almost taste the honeyed star-anise of her lips. I can almost lick the salt of her tears. I want to show her what she means to me. That it is more than the desire to be like her that compelled me to ask Indra for such a boon; that it is her , to be with her. Surely now, when I have nothing more to lose, I can be brave?
Yet my own reckless suicide mission casts a shadow over us, overlapping with the sharpness of Rambha’s earlier words. I can never tell her of my yearning for her now; it would only make her pity me more. I pull away and Rambha releases me. Clearing her throat, she says, “If you are to do this, then listen carefully about Kaushika.”
She tells me of his hermitage in the forest, and where the other apsaras began. Of whatever little Indra’s spies found, and the danger Kaushika poses both to Amaravati and to me. Once more, Rambha becomes my handler, preparing me for my mission. The distance opens between us again.
I cannot deny the relief that lances through me. I have come close to admitting my feelings for her so many times, but what would be the point now? The tension of the mission overshadows whatever moment breathed between the two of us. I try to hear her instructions with a clear mind, but fear interrupts any sense I can make of her words. Rambha must know in her heart that this is far beyond my abilities. Will she mourn me like she has mourned our other sisters? Will she hear this last conversation of ours in her head over and over again, and one day realize how much she has meant to me? A kiss would be sweet, but what would be the point? I won’t leave her confused and more upset than she already is. The both of us know I am likely never to return.
Rambha looks like she understands what I am thinking, because she gives me a small smile. “Kaushika might be a powerful sage, but you are more than just a dancer, Meneka. He’s cunning and devious, but you are too. I meant what I said to the lord. You are one of the best. Do you understand me?”
I nod, too overwhelmed to speak. She loves me; that is why she says this, but I cannot lie to her. Her belief in me is her own, more than what I deserve, more than what I have in myself.
There is no time for long explanations anyway. The both of us know it is time to go. Rambha stands up, holding my hand. We track a familiar path toward Indra’s personal garden, where all apsaras stop before departing on a mission.
The hour before leaving for the mortal realm is sacred. Apsaras are allowed to wander Indra’s personal garden to seek his peace and meditate on his glory. To remind ourselves he is our lord and king, and our very magic depends on his well-being. Within this garden, a wish necessary for the success of our missions is granted to each departing apsara.
Rambha stops at the entrance, and I hesitate. Entering the grove is a devotional act. My turbulent emotions will sully it. What if my doubts malign my wish too? I cannot believe I just returned from what I thought would be my final mission. I thought I’d seen the last of this garden. Here I am again, only too soon. I glance at Rambha, wanting to speak, ask her advice, beg her to come with me. My fingers flicker, nearly reaching to her, but Rambha’s face is quiet, unreadable.
I enter the grove on my own.
T HE FIRST TREES SWALLOW ME INSTANTLY .
Magic lies heavy here, the gleaming gold dust of Amaravati clustered like fruit over the foliage. Luscious red berries appear gilded. Leaves sing, a rustle in the cadence of a hymn. The scent of newly birthed flowers makes me slightly dizzy . Like in the throne room, Indra’s power suffuses me again, a pull at my skin, a tug at my attention.
Images come to me in whispers and fragrant scents, contoured with Indra’s glory.
The lord resplendent, garlands around his neck, each bud picked by a devotee. Indra plowing fields with his bare hands, helping grain grow. The king protecting the sacred cow Kamadhenu in a battle with envious mortals. Indra churning the oceans, to release amrit and other spectacular blessings. On and on, a hundred images of his heroism, lived and lived again through millennia. I blink and the images fade, but the magic winds itself into my blood, reminding me of my allegiance.
This feeling is familiar from all my previous missions. Back then, I welcomed it. When I left to seduce Queen Tara, I wandered this beautiful garden to pray to Indra and replenish my magic. I reminded myself he is one of the oldest beings in the universe, that he has endured and always will. I believed in the lord.
Now I need more to remind me than simply these memories. Ignoring the fruit orchards and the flower-lined fountains, I make my way straight to the kalpavriksh, the sacred wish-fulfilling tree at the center of the garden.
The tree is massive, a forest in itself. Its gnarled boughs reach deep into the soil. The thick canopy blots out even Indra’s sky. I have seen similar banyan trees in the mortal realm that spread across acres. None of them compares to the kalpavriksh.
It is said Indra himself planted the kalpavriksh after it appeared during the Churning of the Oceans, the event that created amrit, the golden nectar. Amrit was drunk by the first celestials of Amaravati, giving them and all their descendants—including me—our immortality. All that happened millennia ago, and Indra himself tells different versions of the story, sometimes relating the Churning as a great war, other times calling it a result of a diplomatic mission with rakshasas and asuras, the creatures of naraka, the hellish realm. The only thing all versions have in common is the power of the gifts that came from the sea, including the kalpavriksh.
That power radiates over me as I wander within the grove.
Golden dust sparkles off everything in Amaravati, but at the tree, there is no visible sign of the city’s magic. The tree rivals Indra’s own power, even here, in his own garden.
A peace descends on me, filling my lungs with the freshest air. My heartbeat slows and my breath grows deeper. Muscles I was not aware I was clenching relax. For a brief moment, my own life seems childish. I am in the presence of one of the oldest, most magical creatures in the universe—a deva in itself. The very power of the cosmos hums within the tree in the rhythms of the sweetest music.
Leaves rustle as I sit at the base of the kalpavriksh’s wide trunk. I brush my fingers over the gnarled wood, counting my slow, deep breaths. The last time I was here, before my mission to Queen Tara, I wished for Tara to be amenable. For my every mudra to be an offering to the lord. It is what most apsaras wish for, an ease in their missions.
This time, I am aware I have taken on an impossible task all to escape my own fears and live in the safety of my home. But what is the point of home if I can never return? What is the point of safety if I am dead? Every mission corrupts my devotion to Indra further, but will I shirk from my duty like he accused me? Will I be weak?
“Help me,” I whisper, unable to answer myself. “Help me find devotion. I … I don’t want to lose myself. Help me find what is true.”
It’s a vague wish, and I’m not sure if it will work. Yet I don’t know how else to put my confusion into words. I repeat the unclear prayer to myself over and over again. When I know I am simply delaying the inevitable, I stand up. It would not do for Rambha to come seeking me here, to drag me to my mission. I will not depart in indignity.
Rambha waits for me where I left her, several precious parcels of dyes, creams, perfumes, and oils resting by her feet within an open beaded bag. She greets me with a watery smile, one I am too distressed to return, so I crouch to feign interest in the parcels. I see saris with the most delicate zari weaving, edged with embroidery that tells obscure stories of swarga. Jewels pull at my power despite their wrappings, more luxurious than anything I’ve ever worn. Any other day, I would be running my fingers through the silks, marveling at the sparkling gems, trying to understand the tales hidden within the clothes. Today I do not bother. I simply nod forcefully, wrap all of them in an accompanying sack, and rise, heaving the sack over one shoulder.
Rambha embraces me tightly. I want to say goodbye, but emotion clogs my throat. If I say anything, I will be in danger of crying. I can’t arrive at the mortal realm being weak. It will only make the seduction harder. Rambha probably understands this, because she doesn’t offer to walk me to Amaravati’s gates, where the wind will take me back to the mortal realm.
“Come back to me,” she whispers. “With the Vajrayudh approaching, your devotion to the lord must be unquestioned. Promise me you won’t waver.”
“I promise,” I say, forcing it out.
She tips my chin to her. Her eyes are luminous moons, liquid with sparkling tears. To my everlasting surprise, she leans forward and brushes her soft lips against mine. Honey scents my mouth, star-anise and burned cinnamon.
“I want you back,” she whispers, her voice breaking a little. “You said you did this for me. To become like me. Then truly become like me and do whatever it takes to succeed. And when you’re back, maybe there are other promises we can make to each other.”
I blink. My cheeks warm.
A thousand emotions well in me—hope and excitement and confusion, and beyond it a deep, searing lust. Has she known all along about my feelings? Has she reciprocated all this time, the both of us too unsure about each other to say anything? It is absurd that we are at this inescapable moment, close to what we’ve wanted for so long, when that future is threatened by my own desperate actions. I want to laugh at the irony. I want to weep in despair. I want to be bold now, finally , lean forward, and kiss her, truly kiss her. Thread my fingers in her hair and pull her to me. Taste the sweetness of her skin and strip her down and bite down on her soft flesh . Will she like that? Or would she want me pliant for her, liquid and warm? Would she want me to obey her, take her lead? Heat pools in me as images flash in my head. I would let her steer if that’s what she wanted. I would let her do anything, as long as we were together.
Yet she is an apsara, purer than any other. Her devotion to the lord guides her every action. It is why I have said nothing to her so far about my intentions. It is why I cannot until I return. If I am to be with her, I have to be worthy of her. I have come so far to be deserving. It would be a mistake to be hasty now.
A new resolve fills me.
Rambha’s kiss lingering on my mouth, I turn toward my destiny.