The Forest of Enchantments

by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

This was my first lesson on the nature of love: that in a moment it could fulfil the cravings of a lifetime, like a light that someone might shine into a cavern that has been dark for a million years.

Girlhood was as ephemeral as a drop of water on a lily pad. Soon I’d have to leave all that I loved—parents, sister, palace, garden, the healing house—to take my place in another family, which I must then call mine.

There was something strangely, deeply familiar about the way Ram held himself, graceful and comfortable in his body and in the world. How could that be? This was the first time I was seeing him, in waking or dream. I felt a great need to discover more.

As he passed us, Ram looked at me. His eyes were large and very dark, and shaped like lotus petals. Pulled into them, I felt like I was falling. No, it was more like I was whisked away to a distant place that shone with a light that was at once brilliant and cool, to a time when I’d been someone else. There was an ocean, undulating

gently around me, white-foamed as innocence, so beautiful that for a moment I couldn’t breathe.

took a step forward. Inexplicably, shockingly, I longed to rest my head on his bare chest.

They say that you went through many troubles and penances to win Lord Shiva as your husband. You even defied your parents to follow him into the wilderness. Please help us. I’ve never felt this way about a man—

She ignored the warning about heartbreak. That was my sister—she only heard what she wanted to hear.

‘There’s more to learn. Because a trained mind is your strongest ally—and an untrained one your worst enemy.’

But always they forgive each other—for without forgiveness what love can there be?

‘Remain true to yourself—and to your heart. Be courageous and remember, even the blackest night must end in dawn.’

‘Anything that makes us forget our true selves is a trap, princess—even something we love or define as beautiful.

only saw Ram’s face, those lotus-petal eyes. The lines of his lips were as tender as in my dream.

smiled at my husband-to-be with a shy and tremulous love. I am yours, I said again silently, and it seemed to me that with this thought my heart left my body and entered his.

It’s important to speak your mind to the man you’re going to marry.

My father was optimistic, already treating Ram and Lakshman like the sons he’d never had.

And even if he wasn’t, where did a wife fit in among all his responsibilities to his lineage, his family and his kingdom?

The sconces lighting the tree-lined path flickered so that light and shadow danced on his face.

But I must—because I need to apologize and explain myself. When I told your father of my vow, I know I distressed you. But I couldn’t go back on my promise, or abandon my dharma. Only misfortune can come of an alliance based on broken vows.’

Right conduct was clearly important to him, as was his word—more important than anything. Again, the question came to me: what of his wife?

Ram continued. ‘I was tempted, though. For the first time in my life, I regretted that rash vow. I wanted to push it away. My heart longed to remain silent so that I could place the betrothal garland around your neck.’

Ram was the first man to touch my hand. And in that fragrant, lamp-lit moment, I vowed he’d be the last.

‘Then it’s a sign that the gods smile on our love,’

even the strongest intellect may be weakened by love. This struck me as paradoxical. Shouldn’t love make us more courageous? More determined to live according to our principles?

‘You’ve taught me to defend myself,’ I said. ‘You’ve allowed me to learn to heal both plants

and humans. You’ve inspired me to be kind and courageous. To not tolerate wrongdoing. I’d rather live my life by these strategies than any other.’

here’s one thing I want you to remember. Maybe it will help you in a hard time: If you want to stand up against wrongdoing, if you want to bring about change, do it in a way that doesn’t bruise a man’s pride. You’ll have a better chance of success.’

your first job is to make sure Dasharath doesn’t feel you’re coming between him and Ram. As long as you’re careful about that, Dasharath will love you. Not because of who you are, but because you’re Ram’s wife. Though I hope that’ll change as he gets to know you and to appreciate your qualities.’

I bit back my words, but I promised myself that once I was settled in Ayodhya, I’d make sure that King Dasharath didn’t dictate my life.

But instead of consoling us, my mother spoke sternly. ‘Pull yourselves together. Surely I’ve brought you up better than this? We come into the world alone, and we leave it alone. And in between, too, if it is destined, we’ll be alone. Draw on your inner strength. Remember, you can be your own worst enemy—or your best friend. It’s up to you. And also this: what you can’t change, you must endure.’

Endure.

A good word upon which to build a life, I thought.

But his eyes were the same, flecked with that ancient recognition.

At our wedding, after the exchange of garlands, he’d held my hand just like this, and shocked everyone by vowing aloud that he would never marry again. Sita will be my only consort and beloved, all the days of my life. The words had hummed inside me like honeybees. I hadn’t expected such a gift, that my husband would be mine alone. The

Impulsively, I stepped forward and gave her a hug. Speaking louder than I needed to, I said, ‘I love everything you’ve given me, Kaushalya-Ma. Anyone can buy new things, but presents passed down the generations hold in them the blessings of the elders. I’m sure your saris will bring me luck. I look forward to wearing one of them for the next royal event. Maybe you’d like to help me choose it?’

Over her head, Ram threw me a grateful smile filled with so much love that I felt I was walking on moonbeams.

Ram’s eyes were on me all the time, too. The appreciation in them went beyond mere admiration of my looks.

What I enjoyed as much as the physical pleasures of love was the time afterwards, when Ram and I lay, limbs intertwined, heads on the same pillow, and conversed into the night. Darkness added a special intimacy to the moment. I felt I could tell Ram things I would have hesitated to bring up otherwise.

He pressed his face into the hollow of my shoulder and fell asleep in the sudden way he had. He never wasted time, Ram, especially on things he believed he couldn’t change. But I lay awake for a long time, holding him, listening to him breathe. I didn’t believe in giving in to fate,

not without a good fight.

Dasharath told Ram approvingly that I had a warrior’s brain. The groundwork was laid. It was time to move forward.

One evening, after his parents had left together, chatting amicably, Ram held me close and kissed me. ‘You’re a miracle worker,’ he said. ‘I’d never have believed this could happen.’

‘I couldn’t have done it without your help,’ I said, kissing him back. ‘We’re partners.’

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Well, I thought, taking a deep breath and sitting up tall, I might be alone and unprepared, but she wasn’t going to intimidate me, at least not easily.

‘I’m certainly not planning to tell anyone,’ I said, ‘except Ram, because I tell him everything.

running his long, sensitive fingers over my arch,

let him fuss over me for a while because I loved that, but finally I reassured him that I was fine.