Kaikeyi

by Vaishnavi Patel

I am granting you an unconventional request, but you must obey convention too.”

The gods do not assist the unworthy. They cannot make talent where there is none.”

“Perhaps that is why you are so ill at ease among women, talking about women’s work,” she said. “You were raised by men to perform the tasks of men.”

I wondered if I would ever feel put together in her presence.

I had no wish to go back to the horrors of the battlefield, but I still enjoyed pushing my body, feeling the rhythm of the movement.

It was the sages who had made it so, for an illegitimate daughter was deeply inauspicious and impure—unmarriageable, a terrible curse for a woman. But of course the gods and sages had nothing to say about illegitimate sons, who were still able to quietly inherit both money and power.

Most women were not cursed by their husbands, but they suffered all the same.

In helping another woman, I had in fact helped myself.

Ravana’s territory existed on an island at the very southern tip of the known world. His kingdom had long been plagued by the disapproval and punishments of the gods, and he was making pilgrimage to the high mountains in order to seek Lord Shiva’s grace. It was a long, fraught journey, and everyone knew he hoped it would bring his people better fortune.

for the gods were the origins of all magic, and my power came from no god.

I focused my eyes on his solar plexus and repeated the mantra to myself.

What if I were to tell you that I wish for magic in the world, because I hope it can move us out from under the thumb of those with more power?” “You mean the gods?”

“My kingdom is constantly punished for every improvement we make, every step we take toward healing and science. I am going to Lord Shiva to beg him to spare us, to let us go forward and bring others into enlightenment as we see fit.”

“The gods—” I wanted to say always have our best interests at heart, but my mouth said, “protect us.” He stepped toward me. “Are you sure about that? Then why should they punish me for progress? Or you, or anyone else for that matter?”

“All right. Let us simply say that in exchange for the scrolls you owe me a favor, should it be in your power to give it, and leave it there.”

Men never took responsibility for infertility—that was a woman’s curse.

Ah. That made more sense.

LOLLLL

I fasted for two weeks, subsisting on water and the occasional fruit, hiding my irritation that Dasharath, as a man, was allowed to eat freely.

“You know what I want?” Sumitra asked. “Kheer. I want kheer.”

“But there will be many other desserts at the feast. Gulab jamun—I could eat one hundred of those.” The delicious fried dough soaked in rose-flavored sugar syrup had been my favorite dessert for as long as I could remember.

“It’s not what you have done,” he said. All mirth had left him. “It is what you will do.”

“But the gods-touched are immune to the charms of the gods. Forsaken. You are forsaken.”

In the Binding Plane, even his shadow had disappeared. The space in front of me stood empty, and I reached out a hand, hoping to touch the blank spot where I knew a god should stand. But there was nothing.

“Feed this kheer to your three wives,”

Agni was a powerful god who acted as a conduit to bring mortal offerings to the heavens. But this time he had brought something from the gods to us—and he had brought me a message besides.

I did not wish to bring a daughter into this world of men, into a world that would silence her thoughts before she could even speak them. I wondered how many women had felt this same fear, deep in their bones.

I had to build a world where my daughter would not be exiled by her husband on a whim, where her opinion could be valued without first having to save her husband’s life in battle.

The sages had made the wishes of the gods clear, putting rules in place to keep women separate and protected. But in truth, it was little protection. If the gods had already ordained my evil deeds, then I had nothing to lose by defying them now. So, I would defy them.

I could not change the minds of the gods, but I could change the minds of men.

Being unmarriageable would no longer be a life sentence then.

After my second missed cycle, I wrote to my father, explaining briefly about the Yagna, the kheer of the gods, and the simultaneous pregnancies of all of Dasharath’s wives. I reminded him of Dasharath’s promise not so long ago and asked for his prayers that I bear a son, playing the part of a dutiful daughter. I imagined that he would be pleased when he read it, and it warmed me to think that he might be proud—though I still believed I would bear a daughter.

At first, when the midwife proclaimed my child was a boy, I did not understand her meaning. Then I shook with the force of my shock and relief, for I had truly never believed I might bear a child who could live an unconstrained life.

Remembering that my father had named me for his kingdom, I named my son Bharata, after our entire continent.

Kaushalya’s son was Rama, born the day before my Bharata. Sumitra followed us one week later with sweet-natured...

I had wondered, in the weeks leading up to the birth, whether I would be a good mother. What if I was too strange, too warlike and rebellious for it?

And in my heart I vowed that I would raise all of them to be good men—men like their father, not like mine.

“You carry on as bold as a man, and as clever too. It has served you well so far, but you cannot assume it will always be so. Or that others will do the same. You are unusual.” “I do not carry on like a man,” I protested, sprawling on the floor dramatically. Manthara knelt down next to me and rubbed my head. “Only you see it that way, Kaikeyi.”

I was not my mother, but just as importantly, Dasharath was nothing like my father.

felt peaceful, light in a way I hadn’t been in years. I had a place here, with four perfect, beautiful sons, who could be happy in a way I had never been as a child. I had a family, and they loved me.

“When I came back, he told me that he had been thinking carefully about what I said. And that he believed we should stop.” She looked at me, uncertainty in her eyes. I nodded encouragement. “He said that women shouldn’t hold a council because it was immodest. That it defies the laws of the sages, and thus of the gods.” My stomach tightened. My son, accusing me of behaving immodestly. He was only ten years of age.

So Rama had, despite the best efforts of all of his mothers and even his father, adopted a poor attitude toward women.

He raised my hand and pressed a kiss to it. “You have already been my saciva for a long time. And after what you told me about the boys, I had to make sure they understood that their mother—all of their mothers—are strong and valuable women.”

Being a warrior is worthy. But war is not something to wish for. It destroys people, destroys kingdoms. A raja should not wish for it. There is far more to being a ruler than that.”

Rama had some higher purpose here, that much I knew. But I could not figure out what.

“The story of the warrior princess of Kekaya has inspired people here. We even have a few noble daughters who train now. They do not fight in battle, but they can defend themselves. Several are excellent at driving chariots.”

“Why was Rama sent here?” I asked instead. To cleanse your world of injustice.

I had made a blessed life for myself, even without the approval of the gods. I had learned a power of my own and used it.

The future could not be taught by the past.

“Sometimes people we want to stay with us cannot.

Time carried me along its current, ignorant and happy.