Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
T he meadow assaults me at once, powerful, potent, mortal.
It stretches for miles around us, tall grass glinting like gold. The buzz of insects and bees fills my ears. Hills rise in the distance, blue and shadowy, and somewhere a stream clinks. Dawn breaks over the horizon, and though I remember that Rambha will return soon to the pond to seek my report, I am hypnotized by this meadow. It spreads as far as I can see, mountains growing in the distance. Kaushika created this? It is a kingdom worthy of a god.
The beauty is exquisite, yet somehow I cannot fully appreciate it. Dread begins to writhe beneath my skin almost as soon as we enter. Something is telling me to look behind the veil of this beauty, as though to unmask a terrible truth. As though all of this is an illusion . I try to take a deep breath, but my chest feels hollow despite the sweetness of the air. My tether to heaven flails, panicked, trying to escape back through the portal we came. I am disconnected from the City of Immortals here, and I cannot understand why. No matter where I have gone, no matter my missions, Amaravati has lived in my heart. Even exile cannot do this, for as long as Amaravati exists, I do, and—
My eyes widen in understanding. Crime against nature , Agastya said of this meadow. An abomination , Vashishta declared.
It is because we are no longer within the three realms. This is no mere kingdom. Kaushika has built another realm, one that does not acknowledge Amaravati. One where nothing of my home exists. My own power shifts, waves crashing in a sea storm, a beast unleashed, uncertain, afraid. The rays of the sun still shine in this place. Does that mean Lord Surya himself has been replicated? Could Kaushika make another Indra with his power if he wished to?
Suddenly I cannot see past my horror into the beauty of this place. I clutch Kaushika’s hand in terror. He presses my fingers in comfort.
We stop walking and the portal glints behind us, still accessible. I want to run to it, to leave this place, but I hold steady against my better judgment. Golden grass surrounds us, brushing my bare knees, making my skin crawl now that I know how alien it is. Kaushika turns me toward him, his hands pressed to my shoulders. He has been watching my reaction. He knows I understand.
“What is this place?” I whisper.
“The meadow where I sent the halahala,” he replies. “It was my only choice, to send it to this realm, removed as this place is from the three lokas. Otherwise, it would have poisoned all of creation eventually. Yet the action came at a terrible cost. Look, the halahala spreads here even now. We cannot linger too long.”
My gaze follows where he points. In the far distance, clouds gather, dark and mirrorlike, bubbles rising from them like a volcano about to erupt. They swirl in the air, and I understand that those are no ordinary storm clouds. That is halahala, trapped here but attempting to escape as is its nature.
Is it because of the halahala that I feel such wrongness? I find it hard to think, still too shaken by my missing tether to Amaravati, but this alone tells me the halahala, although horrifying, is not the reason for my disquiet. This place is a violation despite it. Halahala is a disastrous poison, but it is natural, created of prakriti. This place is not.
I turn to Kaushika, unable to speak. His jaw tightens as he regards the cloud of poison, and he squeezes my hand almost painfully as though not realizing what he is doing.
“Everything I tried has failed,” he says, anger lacing his voice. “Once I sent the halahala here, I followed immediately, trying to capture it within a mountain, within the trees, even within the consecrated amulets I keep in the meadow.” His eyes shine with repressed rage. “The halahala escaped all my attempts to trap it—weak as I was. The best I could do was allow it to pollute the skies while keeping the earth free. Now it roils and churns, descecrating this realm inch by inch. I made this place to be a haven, and Indra has ruined it even without knowing of it, because of his attack. That is another one of his crimes he will have to pay for.”
“Kaushika,” I say softly. “Please—please listen to me. Indra could not have done this. He is not allowed to, by his accord with Shiva. There are stories of this in my kingdom.”
But Kaushika only shakes his head, and his hand grips mine. His eyes rove over the meadow, and his face grows serious, a line creasing between his brows. The darkness bubbles again, the halahala sparking its venom through this realm.
“Stories are not enough proof, Meneka,” he says quietly. “The very fact that the poison was trapped in the bracelet Kalyani wore tells me it was no ordinary creature who designed this snare. Only someone as powerful as the lord of heaven could do this. It is how I know that Indra is to blame. I have thought about it ceaselessly since that day. His actions almost killed Kalyani—and he nearly killed the people I gathered here too. One reason I hurried here from the hermitage after the poisoning was to evacuate them. Until I can get rid of the halahala, this realm is not safe, and those who are loyal to me and need sanctuary cannot return.”
“People you gathered,” I say, dazed. “What do you mean?”
He waves at something in the distance and I let my vision sharpen. A mess of huts dot the landscape, too many to be a mere village but too far away to know. At first, I wonder if it is another hermitage, but something about the lines of the tents is too uniform, the tracks too firm, and then I see what could only be fighting grounds for warriors.
“An army,” I breathe. “Not just people. You collected an army here.”
“I did,” he confirms. “All of them await my instruction, sheltered for now with a royal I trust. I will make ready to attack Indra soon. He forced my hand with the halahala. I only waited until the Mahasabha to see if the sages would aid me, but they have made their choice, and it does not matter. I have made my choice too.”
I turn to him, horrified, knowing any objections will only anger him further. Now, when I am so cut off from my own power, I dare not rile him. So I shake my head and choke out, “How? How did you create this?”
“Let me show you,” he says.
Kaushika’s eyes flutter shut and his lips part. A chant flows from him. Unlike the ones before, this one sounds raw. Unmade.
His voice is as beautiful as ever, but where his other mantras have a practiced quality to them, this one is carefully sung, as though Kaushika himself is unsure of it and needs to focus on every syllable and how it is intoned.
Even as I watch, the grass around us grows taller. The breeze cools, ruffling my hair against my cheek. The tips of my fingers and toes tingle, and a sweet taste enters my mouth. The air behind us wrinkles with his song, and waves of it tumble away from Kaushika. Far from us, a hill erupts, silent dust ballooning and puffing, like the ground itself is breathing. Further away, air currents come up against an invisible wall, waves lapping against an unseen dome. Everything ripples , the sky, the earth, even the two of us.
My vision shakes. I know that beyond the wall is unmade reality, waiting to be molded. All magic changes reality to some extent, but how long will this endure? Will this place fall apart if Kaushika himself does? Is this realm dependent on him the way Amaravati is dependent on Indra? How does this make Kaushika any different from the deva he challenges?
Kaushika stops singing and opens his eyes. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. We watch as the ripples of air slowly dissipate, and the blur of unmade reality softens, a gap closing. Our gazes find each other. The reverberations of the chant still echo in my heart. They curl in my stomach like a quiet flame. I expect the chant to have only horrified me further, but this is where the beauty of the place comes from—from Kaushika himself. Yet the darkness comes from him too.
“What is this mantra?” I whisper.
“A chant to all the deities of nature,” Kaushika says. “To the sun, the moon, the stars. A chant to the earthly, celestial, and atmospheric spheres. To petal and song, to wave and soil, to a single diffused particle of light and to our own immortal souls. A chant to everything manifested and unmanifested. This one chant is my greatest triumph, Meneka. It is an invitation to all the powers that exist, big or small. This is a chant to create and nourish a universe itself.”
My voice is small. “I—I don’t understand.”
“Indra rules his swarga, and he rules it with tyranny. I promised King Satyavrat peace, and if Indra cannot grant it, then I must grant it myself.” Kaushika smiles and throws out his hand. “I have created another heaven, my dear. One that will be ruled with righteousness. One that will replace Amaravati.”
My eyes widen in shock. I shake my head, trying to deny his words, but the evidence of his power confronts me. I have done everything now, but though I myself have changed from the start of my mission, I could never have imagined this. Beautiful or not, this chant … this place … it is evil. The sages are right. Kaushika has gone too far. I swallow, trying to form words. It takes me three attempts.
“Why do you make your own heaven?” I croak. “Even if Indra has abandoned humanity, swarga is still pure.”
“Is it?” Kaushika says. “When Amaravati and swarga are so tied to a corrupt god? No, my war cannot stop with Indra. I seek to usurp him and place someone more worthy on his throne, but even I understand Indra and Amaravati are irrevocably tied to each other. Indra built the city with his bare hands, laying every brick, planting every seed. Amaravati will lose her power without him. Righteous souls might never find a path into the city without him. That is why I created this meadow—to allow these souls sanctuary before they are released into a new birth. For now, my meadow is fragile, and it cannot hold souls for eternity. I do not yet have the power to churn a soul into rebirth, but I will learn. I will find it to fulfill my vow.”
“No one has that power,” I say, alarmed. “Not even Shiva. To allow rebirth is the nature of the universe itself, which dies and is reborn every second. Even swarga exists as a temporary abode for souls, holding them until it is their time to be reincarnated.”
“Then that is the knowledge I need,” Kaushika says, and there is a note of frustration in his voice. “It is why I must keep on my path as a rishi, perhaps until I can become the greatest rishi possible. For all its beauty and power, this place is yet dead—unconnected to prana. I can perform my magic here, and this meadow makes me stronger just like Amaravati makes Indra strong. But the meadow is useless to others, who must return to the other realm to replenish their life force. That is its weakness.”
“The other sages will not allow you to do this,” I say desperately. “They will not help you find this secret.”
“The other sages have already tried to stop me, but they have no power here. They follow Shiva’s path, Meneka; they will not interfere. To do so would deplete their own tapasya, and they are too intent on their desire for enlightenment. By the time they pay attention …” He shrugs. “By then I will be successful, and they will see that there never was any need to stop me.”
My words fail me. I can only stare at him.
Kaushika grasps my hand. “Come,” he says. “The army has left, and it is all I can do to not let the poison rip this place apart. The other sages will call Shiva to take it away, or I must, but until then the meadow is not safe for us.”
We step back through the portal into the mortal realm. The real mortal realm.
I take a deep breath as we arrive, leaves and soil and magic bursting in me, awakening and reconnecting me to Amaravati. My knees shake slightly, and a great relief floods me. Kaushika’s heaven was impressive, but the realm was a figment of his power, finite in its existence. My prana shrank there, as though enclosed in a vacuum. I am grateful to be back, to feel the warmth of a real dawn caressing my skin. Still, I shiver with dread, staring around me.
Nothing remains of the night of intimacy Kaushika and I spent here. No ice, no magic, nothing but a memory. With the morning, all has dissolved, but he is still here, watching me dress in my clothes from the hermitage. He does not interrupt me, but I know he is waiting for me to speak. My mind roils with everything he has told me. I try to sort my own thinking out. My intention has changed since the start of the mission. Kaushika’s actions were immoral to me once, but I have come to understand them. He was nothing but a mark, but now he is everything. Still, what he has done with the meadow is too much. I need him to see this. Despite what Rambha said, I can make him see reason. I have to.
I turn to him. “If there is another way to fulfill your vow, will you abandon this war with Indra and Amaravati?”
He frowns. “Agastya asked me this too. To think of other means to give King Satyavrat’s soul peace rather than the meadow. But after what Indra has done with the halahala, there can be no parley with the deva king. And Indra cannot stay in his swarga, Meneka, nor can swarga exist without him. This is the only way. We cannot have two heavens.”
I remember the gandharva ambassadors Indra sent. “You have not even tried to speak with him,” I say.
“Because I know it is futile,” Kaushika says, adamant. “You yourself said he won’t allow me to dictate who resides within swarga. Besides, I left my kingdom because I could see what damage his reign is doing. The prayers unanswered. The very circle of birth and rebirth broken. Indra allows only the pious into his home, but he determines who is pious. In a world that is changing …” His eyes harden, and he shakes his head.
“If Indra learns of this meadow—” I protest.
“He will not know. Very few people are aware of it. The sages know. They sensed the magic I was doing in the many years it took to create it. Anirudh and Romasha were told of it too, but they are loyal to me.” Kaushika comes closer to me. “You are the only other person I’ve trusted with this.”
I feel Amaravati’s tether inside me, alive and golden. “Why?” I whisper. “We do not even know each other fully yet.”
“I want you to join me,” he replies. “I want you by my side. I cannot do that without trusting you.”
I shake my head. His reaction does not surprise me, but Kaushika thinks he has the element of surprise. He does not know the lord is already preparing for battle.
“Indra will destroy you,” I say. “I can’t watch that happen.”
“He will destroy me easier if you are not with me.”
“And what of the halahala?” I ask desperately. “I still don’t believe that was Indra.”
“Meneka,” he says, seizing my shoulders, “I cannot do this without you.”
I hold his gaze, panic in my own. “You were going to before.”
“Yes. But now …” His expression wavers, and a shudder passes through him. He grips my waist and leans in, and his mouth brushes over my lips. He doesn’t kiss me. Simply closes his eyes and leans his forehead on mine. His breath feels like a prayer.
“I fear I will forget my way without you,” he whispers. “I did once, and I am atoning for my sins every day. Tapasya gives me power, Meneka, but when I exhaust every bit of it, I still have power because of love. You reminded me of it, and you continue to remind me simply because of who you are. And I need the power desperately. To absolve myself of my greatest shame.” He lets go of me and approaches the stone obelisk hidden in the trees.
I watch him curiously, not understanding. Kaushika brushes the low-lying branches off the obelisk. His eyes grow sad.
“Everything is tied to Indra,” he says quietly. “My past, my vows. Even my mistakes.”
He opens his mouth and sings a soft and melodious song. It is a melody of repentance. A lament, a eulogy, a dirge. It is only a few syllables, but it glimmers around the obelisk like a living thing, and stone begins to move, cascading into shape.
“You asked me once how I knew Queen Tara was seduced by an apsara,” he says. “An apsara was sent to seduce me. I was deep in meditation, consecrating the meadow. The portal was open when she arrived in front of me and began to dance. The power she wielded frightened and angered me, and I—I turned the weight of my magic onto her in self-defense. My curse took hold before I could stop it. Anirudh has taught you the way mantras work. Once they are unleashed, they cannot be altered. The best I could do was lay a condition on what I did, that she remain in this form until she is released by a purehearted sage.”
I remain immobile. His words and my own realization come to me as if from a distance, separated by an ocean of horror. I know what he is saying. I understand what is occurring. Still, I cannot accept it. I wish it to be untrue. For him to take back his words, his actions, and for me never to have learned this. I want him to stop speaking, but it is clear that after all the admissions and our night together, he wishes to keep no more secrets from me. His voice grows quieter, sadder.
“I have tried so many times,” Kaushika says. “That very day you and I met in the forest by the hermitage, I was returning from yet another unsuccessful attempt at freeing this woman. Yet I will never be able to help her because I am not purehearted. It is why I was so angry that day, my own failure staring at me despite my tapasya. This is why I must deal with Indra first. Until I have fulfilled my vow to King Satyavrat, until I have balanced the karma that binds me so strongly, I can never know purity. And she will remain trapped.”
The mantra seeps into the stone. Rock shifts, no longer in an arbitrary obelisk shape but resembling a dancer, her face terrified, arms raised in defense over her head, stone tears glistening in her eyes. Nanda, who taught me some of my earliest dance forms. Nanda, who could sing like a nightingale. Nanda, who was rowdy for an apsara, her jokes always slightly irreverent, her smile always a bit wicked, and who could make me laugh even while giving me the most arduous exercises to do.
I cannot take it. It is too much. The fight with Rambha, the pleasure I felt with Kaushika, the meadow and his heaven, and this pond where my terror and his danger bore witness to our lovemaking—they break my stunned moment of numbness. A horrified cry falls from me and I stagger forward to the statue, tears rushing down my face.
“No, no, no,” I whisper. “What did you do? What did you do ?” My hand touches Nanda’s stone one. I turn around to face him, uncaring of the danger I am in. “Where are the others? Where are Sundari and Magadhi? Did you curse them too, Kaushika? Where are my sisters?”
He looks bewildered for a long moment, his brow creasing. “Your sisters?” he chokes out. “No, it cannot be. That must mean you are—”
He cuts himself off.
His eyes widen in pain and denial and understanding.
“It is not possible,” he whispers, as if he is speaking to himself. “I warded the forest after Indra sent his gandharvas, knowing he would try again, but I shielded myself from apsaras after I encountered her . I did not think Indra would dare send another one, not with her missing. And you … you can do tapasvin magic like a yogi. No immortal is capable of it. I couldn’t have been this wrong. It’s not possible.”
“Indra allowed me that power,” I lash out. “Indra did it because I was sent—I am here—you may not have believed it, but I am an apsara , Kaushika! I always have been!”
I hurl out these last words, too upset to contain my shock and anger to soften them. Kaushika stares at me, his face caught in the horror of my confession, shaded by the vulnerability of his own admission about Nanda—and it is this expression which abruptly washes out my own rage, in how this moment between us has twisted.
Confusion and chaos pummel me, and grief weeps within me. This is not how I meant to tell him. I wanted to be tactful, show him that it doesn’t matter anymore why I came here in the first place. My reasons changed because of him, and I want to tell him that he is my antithesis and my mirror, the destruction to my maya and the completion to it as well. My anger leaches out of me along with my horror, and all I feel in this moment is a deep sadness, for the sheer waste of what has occurred in his pride and my confusion. My hand touches Nanda’s face, and my heart breaks into a million pieces because she shows me, in her smooth stone and stillness, just how wretched this mission has been from the start, and how everything has led to this moment of truth and collapse.
My voice is a croak as I stare at Kaushika. “Will you turn me into stone now too?” I ask.
Kaushika’s eyes flash. His fists clench, and I read his fury, his pain, in that one movement. I wait, too heartbroken to care if he is going to lash out.
But Kaushika only nods once, as if to himself. Then he turns away, his movements wooden.
I stumble forward and grasp his arm before he can leave. I know he will not curse me like he did Nanda, but the prospect of losing him in this manner stirs me more than his danger. “Don’t go,” I say, desperately. “We can fix this. Let me explain.”
“What is there to explain?” he replies, his eyes piercing into me. “I underestimated the storm lord badly. He won this round. He will not win again.”
“He did not win. I haven’t told …” But I cannot complete my sentence. Because I have told. I told Rambha everything Kaushika ever said to me, and she reported it back to Indra. Undoubtedly, the devas conferred, going over every bit of my information, seeing how to manipulate it. Even now, according to Rambha, Indra prepares for war. Based on my information.
Kaushika’s eyes glint. “Why stop yourself from telling another lie, Meneka?”
His voice is flat, emotionless. The sheer pain and hurt in it, masked behind a cold indifference, break my heart.
“Did you breach my shield too?” he asks. “Did you look into my lusts and plant your own image? If Indra dares to send me another apsara, I would like not to be such an easy puppet.”
He asks the question coldly, as though not truly expecting a response, but I see behind it the fear of what I did to him, in forcing him to lie with me.
“I—I didn’t plant any lusts in you,” I whisper. “I didn’t ever use my magic on you, Kaushika. I saw your lust, and I saw myself, and it shocked me too. It means only one thing. That your lust for me was pure. Uncontaminated by any magic. That you desired me, plain and simple.”
He says nothing, merely continues to stand there, frowning. I take courage from this and move my hand over his arm, trying to ease the tension from his bicep.
“You must have known,” I whisper. “Somewhere in your heart, you must have known who I was. After all my defense of Indra, you must have suspected it, you must have accepted it.”
Anger flares in his eyes. “Then it is my shortcoming? Even if that is true, then all you have done is subterfuge, when I hid nothing from you—I gave you everything of me. You were my goddess, my devi. If you truly believed my lust was my own, you could have told me you were an apsara, without any confusion and pretense. You could have trusted me to take all of you. Did I show you I was too weak for your desires? For you?”
“You cursed her—” I begin, pointing to the statue.
“Because she tried to desecrate my meditation, my power, and my free will! Is that what you did too?” His mouth twists, and the revulsion in him shakes me. “I cannot believe I have been so foolish. Of course, all your wisdom about the path of the Goddess, about the devi. Those were simply to thwart me, were they not? My trust, my arrogance , blinded me into believing that if you could do rune magic, you could not be an immortal. From that first day I saw you, I assumed your immense beauty could only mean one thing, but I fell for you against my better judgment, against all the warnings in my head, seduced by your mask of sincerity, giving you the benefit of the doubt. I forgot myself. And is that not what your kind does? Make a mark forget their own will? Everything you’ve said has been a lie.”
I shake my head in protest. “It wasn’t a lie.” I raise my hand to cup his face. “Kaushika, I—I made a mistake—surely you understand that. You’ve made them too—with her—”
I caress his face, but he wrenches me away from him, painfully, as though only just realizing I am so close to him. “Do not touch me,” he snarls. “These are excuses. You did what was in your nature. Lies and deception and illusions. That is what an apsara does. You violate. That’s your entire existence, and I foolishly thought it was love.”
“It was love,” I say. “It is love. Kaushika. I love—I am in love—”
“No,” he says, and now the heat leaves his voice. He takes another step back. “I was a mark. A mission. You were sent here by Indra to deceive me. Deny it, Meneka. I dare you.” A staggered breath escapes him. “I beg you,” he whispers. “Please. Deny it.”
I stare at him, and the words of explanation die in my mouth. Suddenly, I am sick to my stomach. Have I not thought the very same things he is saying to me now? Never with such brutality, never with such precision—but I have questioned my own nature the same way he is. I have been ashamed of being an apsara, knowing in the depths of my soul that I am a creature of poison and danger, forcing my marks to feel what they feel, forcing them to do things they would never do. I even questioned if Kaushika , despite never behaving like a typical mark, admitted the things he did to me because of my celestial power. I questioned it … but I did not stop.
A silence breathes between us.
Tears tremble and fall. I dash them away. I try to focus, be methodical, be clear. I take a deep breath to calm myself, relying on my training from the hermitage. From his hermitage.
“I can’t deny it,” I whisper. “It was a mission. You were a mark. But then you became so much more. I couldn’t tell you because I thought you’d killed my sisters. Telling you would be a betrayal of the lord. I am his apsara, compelled to obey him and bound to Amaravati in a profound way. Please … I never wanted to deceive you.”
“What you want matters little,” Kaushika says quietly. “It is what you have done that must be judged. And your compulsion to obey is another thing Indra must answer for. Just like I will answer for what I’ve done to her. Is that not fair? That all of us pay for our mistakes?”
I can say nothing to this. He has trapped me with his reason, ever a sage’s weapon.
Kaushika’s mouth trembles, and his hand rises. For a second, I think that despite what he has said, he can forgive me. That we can face this together. I think he is going to touch me, my hair, my cheek, my lips. Almost, I lean into him, hoping.
When he speaks this time, his voice is low. Wondering.
“I worshiped you,” he whispers. “When we lay together, when we kissed.” His eyes drop to my mouth, and his own mouth hardens. His hand falls again. “Nothing you have said changes that you did everything intentionally.”
“I love you,” I say quietly. “Please believe me.”
“How can I?” he says, just as quietly. “How do I know this isn’t just another deception? That you haven’t simply taken away my choice? Even if I believe you, how can I trust myself now, when it comes to you? When I have been so blind?”
We stare at each other.
His question sharpens the distance between us. Because in that moment, I don’t know how to answer. I don’t know if I know the answer at all.
Is this love at all? Am I even capable of it? I took away the choices of my other marks before, Tara, Ranjani, Nirjar, and countless other mortals. I broke my own sacred rule with Kaushika. I had so many chances to utter the truth to him—words of clarity, beyond the turmoil of emotion. Words that would show him who I was without a doubt, beyond the smoke of my power. He did not lie to me. He withheld and took his time trusting me, but what I did was a clear deception. Each time I chose to keep silent, I behaved like an apsara. And an apsara has always been a creature of illusions. Of duplicity and lust. Not love.
My hand rises in horror. My lips tremble.
He nods again. He understands.
Resignation covers his face. Kaushika’s voice is quiet. Sad. It breaks me. “Never return to the hermitage again if you value your life, Meneka,” he says.
Then he’s gone, and I am alone, my loneliness showing me who I really am.