SITA’S SISTER (32 page)

Lakshman shook his head vehemently. ‘We have not done it all these years,’ he said, but seeing the mutinous expression on his wife’s face, he shrugged. ‘Is that your next agenda?’ he asked resignedly.

‘Yes!’ she said with renewed asperity. ‘I intend to broach the topic soon…’

And she did that when the family met for the Satyanarayan puja the following morning. As she bowed to touch the feet of her parents-in-law with Lakshman, she looked at Dashrath and said softly, ‘Bless us that we live and eat together as a family for now and forever.’

Dashrath looked surprised but complied to her wish as he touched her bent head with an involuntary, ‘So be it—
tathastu.
’

‘You are using this trick far too often,’ breathed Lakshman, a smile hovering on his lips.

The old king did not realize the import of her request but Kaikeyi did, and gave a delighted smile. ‘That is a lovely suggestion; it starts right away from today’s lunch!’ she said animatedly. ‘I shall look into it immediately!’

The luncheon prepared by Kaikeyi was a finger-licking success. The person most displeased about it was Kausalya as it deprived her with the sole time she sought with her son. Also, whenever Ram decided he would lunch with Kaikeyi—which was often enough, courtesy her superior culinary abilities—meals had, over the years, become another bone of contention between the two queens. By bringing all of them together, Urmila hoped it would ease tensions. The mood at the table now was relaxed, she observed with delight, but what was more gratifying was the sight of all of them sitting together at the long table, solemnly enjoying the food. Urmila frowned; the meal had to be sprinkled with some dialogue, it was too quiet. She would have to start a conversation.

‘Ma Kaikeyi, the food is fabulous!’ gushed Urmila, heartily complimenting the queen sitting next to her. ‘Especially the stuffed potato curry. Sita, you have to learn it from her!’ she piped with a bright smile, turning to her sister. ‘Sita is a fabulous cook. She knows everything from herbs to the different ways of seasoning to preparing the most elaborate dishes. And Kirti can make the most exotic pickles!’

‘And what do you do, child?’ asked Dashrath with a twinkle in his eyes.

‘Eat well,’ she said promptly. ‘That’s how you show your respect and pay compliments to the cook!’

The small crowd at the table broke into loud guffaw and the conversation flowed as easily as the sweetened lassi making the rounds. The next few minutes were a mix of sweet chatter and even sweeter desserts.

‘Bravo, dear girl,’ said Kaikeyi, in an awed whisper. ‘You smartly achieved what I could not manage for the past twenty-five years! The family eats together…and it is a sight to behold.’

Urmila could still hear the ringing laughter of those happier days, even taste the food in her mouth. But she could not savour the memory any longer: those days now seemed too long ago. But they would have to be brought back, and quickly, she realized. Simply desiring or deciding would not be enough, she would need determination too. Her voice sharp and firm, Urmila called for her maid Kasturi and told her to give a message to everybody—that all of them were invited to the fore-room of her palace at noon tomorrow.

The next day’s afternoon did see them all together at her palace, including the busy Shatrughna and the reclusive Kaikeyi. Each looked surprised to see the other but maintained a dignified silence. Eventually, as she served them cool lime juice, Kausalya asked her testily, ‘Why did you call us here, dear? What is the occasion?’

‘The occasion is that we will start having our meals together henceforth,’ Urmila replied quietly, ‘as we once did.’

‘You can’t recreate those days,’ snapped Kausalya, her voice hardening. Urmila heard the brittleness and looked at her closely. The queen had not yet forgiven her for her outspokenness at Chitrakoot. She had been frigid with her since then.

‘No, but we can’t mope and mourn forever, can we? And should we?’ riposted Urmila. ‘Have some soup, Mother, you have to be strong enough to welcome Ram when he returns!’ she added with a smile. ‘Let’s eat, though I am afraid, the meal won’t be as delicious as Mother Kaikeyi’s! Mother, please spare me and take over from now on and handle all the other meals!’ she said brightly, turning to the silent queen mother, sitting uncertainly next to her. ‘I am sure Kirti will be happy to help you out. And Kirti, please make the green chillies pickle; it’s been so long!’

‘Yes, Kaikeyi,’ agreed Sumitra, swiftly taking up Urmila’s cue. ‘We are missing your heavenly fare; for tomorrow let’s have that meat curry you prepare from the herbs you get from your native place. It is glorious! Urmila, the food is not as bad as you said it would be…it’s actually very good!’

‘Oh, that’s Urmi for you, always running herself down and reserving all the praises for her sisters!’ said Mandavi suddenly, who had been cold and sullen all the while. The affection for her sister was strong in her voice. She actually smiled, bringing a tinge of life into her wan face.

‘Is there an antonym for show-off?’ piped in Kirti, relieved that Mandavi had joined in the conversation and at the relaxed mood at the table. ‘That’s the definiton for Urmi! And Ma Kaikeyi, please teach me your wonderful smoked brinjals, I tried it but failed miserably and Shatrughna still pokes fun at me over that disaster!’

Shatrughna gave a polite smile, ‘But you have improved, dear! They were less burnt last time!’

As everyone burst out laughing, Kirti continued firmly, ‘Let’s do it this very evening, Ma Kaikeyi!’ she persisted. ‘Help me prove him wrong! And for tomorrow, let’s…’

Kaikeyi nodded slowly with her elegant smile and everyone continued with their meal, broken with fits of short laughs and small talk. Urmila felt a hand slip into hers. It was the soft hand of Kaikeyi. She turned to see the queen give her a grateful look, her eyes warm with unabashed gratitude. Urmila gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

‘Let’s eat,’ she said simply with a smile. They were back eating together at last.

Though Urmila had managed to have all of them sit together for meals for so many months now, she still could not convince Mandavi to step into the thousand-pillared, lotus-domed palace of Kaikeyi. It had been more than a year that Bharat had left the palace for Nandigram, but Mandavi could not bring herself to forgive her mother-in-law. She barely spoke with her except for some cursory civil talk. The wife carried on the husband’s resoluteness, but their reasons were different. For Bharat, it was an act of retribution, remorse and repentance; for Mandavi, it was fury. She blamed the queen for separating her husband from her and the burden of that decision was entirely hers.

‘How can you forgive her, Urmi, for all that she has done?’ she demanded instead. ‘You are without Lakshman because of her.’

‘For which she has been punished enough. Her son has disowned her, how much worse can it get for her?’ said Urmila. ‘By all of us hating her as well? I cannot. It would embitter me. And I feel terrible for her. Call it sympathy and a strong trust that a woman who was so affectionate cannot turn so heartless.’

‘It was all a pretence!’ flared Mandavi. ‘She is the evil in the house. You threw away Manthara, but can we throw her out? Each time I see her, I am reminded of the fact that it is because of her that Bharat took that decision. He wanted to punish her, hurt her the way she has hurt others but the person suffering the punishment is me! Why? Why am I being punished for her fault, for his decision?’

‘Because you are allowing yourself that luxury of self-pity,’ said Urmila brutally. ‘Stop thinking about yourself. You are drowning in this self-created sea of misery. She is suffering, too. It is worse for her—everyone despises her, avoids her; she has become an outcast in her own home. But what is killing her is her son’s rejection. Which mother can live with the fact that her son has disowned her and has left home to punish her? Look around you, Mandavi, see the others!’

‘When I look around me, I see only you—a brave smile on your sad, lovely face…and it makes my blood boil!’ seethed her cousin. ‘You fought for me at Chitrakoot but did it make any difference? All it did was to earn you the ire of the elders and the gurus. Did anyone come to your defence? You say I am being selfish but what have these people done for us? What have they done to us, Urmi? Don’t you ever feel anger against them?’ she cried in frustration. ‘Don’t you ever resent them for depriving you of your freedom, your joy; to have bound you by societal and family rules as the royal daughter-in-law, the wife, the princess?

‘I do,’ admitted Urmila, her face convulsed with restrained emotions. ‘But silently going about my way does not mean I am passive, Mandavi. I said what I had to say, did what I had to do, a woman free to speak freely for herself. I never let them forget what they have done; all of them have been guilty for some reason or the other. They know it each time they look at me in the eye. I make them realize it.’

Mandavi gave her a hard look. ‘I did not expect anyone from this family to take your side, but there has been one doubt I have been intending to clarify since long, but circumstances and good sense made me hesitate,’ said Mandavi reluctantly. ‘But now I ask you—why did Sita not help you? As the senior daughter-in-law who had so wonderfully argued her point and arbitrated her choice to follow her husband in the forest, she could have made Ram, and ordered Lakshman, to take you to the forest with them. And as the elder sister, she should have considered your plight as well, should she have not?’

Urmila was quick to vindicate Sita, ‘She barely had the time and opportunity to fight for herself and convince Ram to take her,’ she was quick to explain. But her words sounded weak even to her own ears. She was making a frail attempt at justification; the deep truth was, as Mandavi had realized, that her sister, too, had failed her and Urmila hated to admit it. She had never felt more betrayed, more let down. Mandavi seemed to be going though the same tumult of those tearing emotions.

‘Don’t defend her, as you always do all those whom you love so fiercely and loyally. She failed you,’ said Mandavi, her voice brittle and unforgiving. ‘And that is what riles me the most…our family let us down. I have never felt so unwanted, so disgraced—I feel like running away from all of them, from this damned palace so hideous in its beauty. It seems all the walls are trapping me in endless pain. What have I got myself into?’ Mandavi shook her head violently, trying to shake away the sorrow stifling her.

Urmila was alarmed, dismissing her own painful thoughts, feeling helpless at her sister’s growing grief and desolation. Neither she nor Kirti had been able to comprehend how to comfort their sister. Right now she looked crazed; the raging emotions were eating into her, destroying her slowly. Urmila was, frankly, scared for her sister now.

‘Mandavi, of course, it is unjust!’ she cried. ‘Life always is. We are women, we are wives, we are creatures of circumstances. We make choices we have no control over. You cannot change anything, Mandavi, just try to accept it. We do not have the power to change anything but ourselves; see what has become of you. Oh, please, dear, give me back my old sister, that Mandavi—charming, witty and clever…’

‘Oh not so clever really,’ interposed Mandavi bitterly. ‘If I had been so clever, I would not have married Bharat at all! Ma was right—we sisters should have never married into this family! They have given us just grief, pain and humiliation. Sita is suffering in the forest, you and me here and Kirti, lucky girl, is relatively better off than the three of us! And I am in this situation all because of my dumb ambition to be a queen! I could have got some other king for all my wit and charm! Oh, why did I not marry someone else?’

‘Are you regretting everything?’ asked Urmila slowly, finally seeing through her sister’s frenzied fury.

‘Yes! Every single moment!’ cried Mandavi. ‘Since that day I made the decision to marry Bharat. I thought I had planned it all right and it went all wrong. So horribly wrong! And I feel frustrated that I am the cause of my own misery. I don’t love him, Urmila, don’t you see?’

Urmila heard the desperation in her sister’s voice. Her confession was a revelation—a divulgence of her innermost tormented thoughts—but it shocked Urmila and frightened her a little.