Forest of Demons (7 page)

“What are you thinking?” Papa asked. “You’ve such an expression of resolve on your face.”

Priya laughed. “Oh nothing. I just . . . I love you both so much!” She rushed over and threw her arms around them both, squeezing hard.

“Well I’m glad to hear it.” Ma pinched her cheek. “Now, go get ready or you won’t get a good seat.”

“Guru promised to save me one,” Priya called over her shoulder as she headed to her room. She quickly pulled on her orange loose pants and black tunic. Releasing her hair from its usual braid, she brushed it and then rebraided it. On impulse she applied a smudge of kohl to her eyes, then slipping her feet into her best sandals, she presented herself for inspection.

Ma clapped her hands together. “You look lovely.”

“You’re going with Guru?” Papa asked.

Priya nodded.

“Is he not coming to collect you?” Papa looked worried.

“I’m meeting him there. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He glanced at Ma who nodded. “Just . . . be careful.”

“Always.” After dropping a kiss on both their foreheads, she left for market.

The market had been transformed with hanging lanterns and a large bonfire. Two stalls, both selling roasted peanuts, delicious sweets, and chai, had been set up to one side. People were already milling about, chatting, and finding seats. She spotted Chaya, who waved to her discretely from beside her mother-in-law. Her husband was nowhere to be seen. He was studying to be a vythian and spent most of the week in the neighboring village, coming home only on weekends.

Priya waved back, her eyes searching for Guru and finding Pratip. He ushered her over.

She wound through the crowd and made her way to him.

“Hello, pretty girl.” Pratip offered her a paper funnel filled with hot roasted peanuts.

She took it. “Thank you. Where’s Guru?”

“Oh, he’ll be along shortly. His parents have gone to Dakha to visit his aunt and her new baby, and he has some errands to finish.”

“Wow, I didn’t know she had it already.”

Pratip nodded. “Oh, yes. Last week. It’s a very vocal boy.”

Priya popped a handful of peanuts into her mouth to hide her annoyance. Why hadn’t Guru told her this? They used to share everything; now it felt as if Pratip knew more about her childhood friend than she did.

She realized that Pratip was watching her carefully. “Are you all right?”

He looked so genuinely anxious that she couldn’t stay mad any longer. Shaking it off, she pasted a smile on her face. “I’m fine. Really looking forward to the stories tonight.”

“Me too. Come on, I saved us some seats. I’m supposed to look after you until Guru gets here.”

They made their way to the front of the throng, locating the seats; three orange, flat cushions, distinctive because they were from the temple. It was probably why no one had tried to steal the spots. On the other side of the fire she caught a glimpse of Ravi, his chiseled face in profile as he spoke to a tall man partially obscured by the flickering flames.

Priya sat down crossing her legs beneath her, and Pratip joined her. They studied the crowd, eavesdropping on a few conversations, until people began to take their seats. Ravi walked away, disappearing into the darkness on the outskirts of the gathering. A hush fell over the crowd as a man entered the circle of light. Tall and lithe, and surprisingly youthful looking, his slanted eyes and quirky mouth suggested mischief. He folded his body into the lotus position, looking over the crowd, his mouth flirting with a smile as if he had a secret to tell, as if he knew a secret about each and every one of them. It was both disconcerting and exciting.

The bard’s eyes came to rest on her. She blinked in surprise, then ducked her head in embarrassment when he shot her a cheeky wink.

Pratip nudged her in the ribs. “I think he likes you,” he whispered.

She nudged him back

“Welcome all, and thank you for inviting me to your beautiful village,” the bard said.

“From what I heard, he pretty much invited himself,” Pratip whispered.

Priya shushed him, hiding her smile.

The bard raised his hands in the air. “There are some stories that are told over and over again, and each time they are told something is lost, something is added and something is downplayed. No story remains the same as upon its inception, and like we grow from babe to old man, it also grows and matures. It becomes who we, society, wish it to be. On this night I will tell you such a tale. A tale that has been found and lost and embellished, and when I’m done, you may ponder its truth, for what I tell you will be far removed from the purity of its birth. It will be the version that society demands.

“So here it begins; a tale of despair, of horror and taking. The tale of the rakshasa and the princess.

“Many years ago, in a glorious kingdom filled with wealthy people and prosperous businesses, there lived a princess so beautiful that people came from all over the world to behold her loveliness. They would wait for hours, days, even weeks, for just one glimpse of her milk-white skin and raven-black hair. Her father, the king, was extremely proud of his progeny and loathe to give her hand in marriage to any man, deeming all mortals unworthy of his pari-like daughter.

“Although he was guilty of pride, the princess was not guilty of vanity, and despite her charm and beauty, remained humble and modest, which simply served to further endear her to her citizens.

“The Kingdom was bordered by a forest filled with captivating creatures and nature’s miracles. The princess loved nothing more than to wander through the sun-dappled woodland. She would pack a simple picnic lunch and spend the day by a narrow river that separated the lighter forest from the dark. The dark side of the forest was forbidden, rumored to be filled with wild beasts and rakshasas that feared the sun and remained in the deep shadows of the thicker forest.

“The princess would share her meal with the birds and rabbits, singing sweetly to them, but unbeknown to her, she was watched by a creature filled with lust and desire, a rakshasa. The demon became obsessed with the princess, seduced by her charm and beauty, lulled by her heavenly voice. He waited for the perfect moment to take her for his own.

“His chance came sooner than he could have hoped, for before long, a prince carrying a bow and quiver rode through the forest on his way to beg the king for the princess’s hand in marriage. The prince was tall, strong, and very handsome. His beauty would rival that of the princess. The rakshasa saw his opportunity. Now, not many people know this, but a rakshasa is not without magic. A rakshasa has the power to cloak itself in more than simple illusion. Some can even transform themselves into other creatures, even people.”

An incredulous gasp rippled through the crowd.

The bard smiled smugly. “Oh, yes my dear friends, the rakshasa is a wily foe indeed. This particular demon recognized the prince as a hunter, and tempted him across the river by transforming into a deer. The prince, unable to ignore the call of the hunt, stripped himself of his clothes and swam gracefully across the river. As soon as he stepped into the cool confines of the dark forest, the rakshasa pounced, tearing him to shreds.

“The demon then took on the prince’s form. When the sun had set, he crossed the river, donned the prince’s discarded clothes, and tried to mount the prince’s horse. He soon discovered that the horse was immune to his disguise. It whinnied and reared up in fear. Leaving the horse in the forest, the demon continued on foot.

“That eve he presented himself to the king who was instantly smitten by his grace and beauty. But beauty and grace were not enough. The king demanded something more, something special and unique to rival his daughter’s wondrous beauty and charming nature. The demon proceeded to entertain the king with tricks and illusions, claiming to have mastered the arts of magick. The king was captivated and agreed to allow him an introduction to the princess immediately.

“The princess, however, was not so sure. Although the prince was handsome, courteous, and accomplished, she could not help but feel uncomfortable in his presence. His eyes devoured her hungrily, and she broke out in gooseflesh whenever in his presence. In private she implored her father to send the prince away, but the king, now completely under the demon’s spell, would hear nothing of it. He ordered the princess to wed the prince or be banished from the kingdom. The princess reluctantly agreed on one condition, that after the wedding, the couple would remain in her kingdom.

“The king posed this to the demon, who, in his greed and desperation to have the princess, agreed. The wedding was arranged for two days hence. The princess was much loved by her servants and enlisted their help, charging them to watch the prince carefully and report any unusual behavior to her.

“The demon, however, was no fool. He knew that his absence during the daylight hours may attract attention, so made sure to drink till late with the other lords and dukes staying at the palace. Thus he was able to claim sickness due to alcohol the next day, appearing only once the sun had set. That night he played the same trick again, rising the next morning in time to dress and be anointed for the wedding.

“The princess was in despair. Her servants, sensing her grief, wept for her. So it was a tear-streaked princess that muttered the vows binding her to the demon.

“That night the rakshasa took her body with all the rutting elegance of the beast he was, tearing at her delicate skin with his fingernails, drawing blood with sharp nips of passion. The princess begged and implored him to be gentle, but his lust would not be contained. He took her over and over again until the sun began its ascent; only then did he retreat to his chambers, bolting the doors and allowing no one to enter.

“The princess, abused and traumatized, ran forthwith to her father’s quarters, whereupon putting shame aside, she exposed her injuries for him to see. Horrified and enraged with this evidence of abuse, the king stormed off to evict the prince. But the king’s ire was short-lived, much to the princess’s distress. He returned an hour later, ordering her to return to her husband immediately. When she refused, he ordered his guards to take her by force.

“Upon entry into her husband’s chambers, his true nature was revealed to her, but his hold over the king meant that she was powerless to end his abuse.

“For thirty days and nights the rakshasa took his fill, and he would have continued longer if not for the servant’s intervention. They sent word to the neighboring kingdom. Aid arrived in the form of the Pious King and his Tantric baba; a man of magical power, who dissolved the spell cast over the king, thus chasing away the demon.

“The princess was free, but it soon became apparent that the rakshasa’s seed had taken hold and would not be shaken. As the princess grew heavy with child, the people that had once loved and adored her now shunned even her shadow. Despondent and depressed, the princess left the palace and walked into the dark forest, never to be seen again.

“Some say that she reunited with her demon husband, giving herself to the life of a rakshasa; some say she was devoured by the wild beasts; and others claim she bore a beast so powerful, so horrific, that no rakshasa dare challenge her lest her child tear them limb from limb.”

The bard bowed his head indicating the end of the tale. There was utter silence.

“What happened to the king?” someone in the audience asked.

The bard smiled. “The king, devastated by the loss of his heavenly child and blaming himself for her torment, lost his mind.”

“And the Pious King?”

“Went back to being pious, I expect.”

“Rakshasas can’t do illusions; they’re animals, beasts,” another villager said.

“Are they?” The bard smiled slyly.

The munsiff stood, his large belly jiggling. “Thank you, bard. I don’t think any of us have heard that particular tale before; how refreshing to hear something new.”

There were murmurs of consent, and then someone began to clap, and the whole market square erupted in applause.

The bard stood, taking a bow and a twirl.

Priya joined in the clapping, her heart still pounding, her head still reeling from the horrific yet compelling tale. She turned to Pratip with a smile, but he was gone.

The crowd was shifting, people getting ready to leave. She gnawed on her bottom lip. Guru had promised to walk her home. The temple was a five-minute walk away, while her home was at least twenty. She picked up the cushions and started to make her way through the crowd.

A warm hand gently cupped her elbow. “May I walk you home?”

She looked up into Ravi’s clean, chiseled face. “Oh, no, that’s okay. Guru has already promised to do so.”

Ravi looked about. “Guru isn’t here.”

“I’m going to fetch him now.”

A strange expression of ambivalence crossed Ravi’s features. He sighed. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to let me walk you home?”

Priya couldn’t deny the logic in that, but her heart longed to see Guru, and he
had
promised. “It’s fine, honestly.” She smiled and turned away.

“Priya . . . I wouldn’t do that. I mean . . . just, don’t.”

Priya bit back her annoyance. “Why not?”

Ravi exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze, lashes fanning against his cheek. “Never mind. If you change your mind, I’ll be at the smithy.” He turned and sauntered away.

Priya continued toward the temple, shaking her head in exasperation. Why did he have to be so . . . odd?

She reached the Temple and made her way around back toward the long, low hut Guru’s family called home. The windows were dark. The place felt empty. Priya stood outside the front door not knowing what to do. Where could he be?

A low moan cut through the air.

Guru?

She moved around the house toward the herb garden. The moan came again, louder this time.

Guru, it was most definitely Guru, and he was hurt.

Priya ran into the herb garden, searching the darkness for the man she loved, and froze. Her brain struggled to piece together what she was seeing.

Guru, naked and Pratip . . . naked. Both naked together.