and point to a star that is not Arundhati. The husband must then grab the opportunity, seize her hand, point to another star and say, ‘See that star. That is also not Arundhati.’ He must point to many more stars, each time saying, ‘See that star. That is also not Arundhati,’ each time making her more and more comfortable with his touch and his proximity, each time sliding his hand further down, from hand to wrist to arm to armpit then waist, hip and finally thigh. By the end of the exercise, Arundhati in the sky will not matter. There will be an Arundhati on the bed. Chaste and submissive and dutiful and wise.
‘I am scared, Arya,’ said Simantini. The words just slipped out as Yuvanashva placed his hand rather hesitatingly on her thighs. No man had ever touched Simantini’s thighs. As she felt his hand slip down her arm, her thighs craved for his touch. The desire frightened her. She regretted revealing her feelings. Would he withdraw, she wondered.
‘I am scared too, Bharya,’ admitted Yuvanashva, almost biting his tongue as the words left his lips. Kings-to-be must never show their weakness.
Simantini turned to face her husband. She saw the curiosity and the anxiety in his eyes. He was just a boy. Scared as she was. Nervous as she was. He had opened up to her. Revealed his vulnerability. Now it was time for her to open up. Part her thighs. She wanted to caress the fine hair on his chest. Run her fingers down his back. Bite his shoulders and his arm. But she controlled herself. He had to take the lead. She would comply. She would submit as good wives are supposed to. The Apsara dancing to the Gandharva’s tune.
A gentle breeze blew out the lamp. Yuvanashva kissed Simantini. His tongue sought entry into her mouth. She parted her lips. Let him probe her, explore her. She spread herself like the earth and welcomed him as if he was the rain. He slipped in effortlessly.
For Simantini, this was the moment when Yuvanashva became part of her soul.
For Yuvanashva, it was a moment of growing up. ‘She is the embodiment of Vallabhi,’ Mandavya had told him. ‘If she is happy, the kingdom is happy. If she is fertile, the kingdom is fertile. Take care of her. She is your Lakshmi and you are her Vishnu.’
For Shilavati, who sat alone in her room looking at the Arundhati star and remembering her own wedding night, this was the moment when the doorway opened between the land of the living and the land of the dead. If all went well, an ancestor would find his way into earth and the dreams would stop. And so would her rule.
five years
With a wife by his side, Yuvanashva was finally crowned king. As the Brahmanas poured milk and water on him during the ritual consecration, they noticed how handsome he was. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, his arms long. His thick long wavy hair extended right down to his hip. Yes, he is virile, thought the Brahmanas. He would father many sons.
Shilavati, however, did not let Yuvanashva rule. Court continued to meet in her audience chamber, not in the maha-sabha. When Mandavya insisted that the prince must take charge of his destiny the queen replied, ‘Why distract him from his husbandly duties? The ancestors are impatient to be reborn. Vallabhi is impatient for an heir. He needs to repay his debt to his forefathers who gave him his crown and his kingdom. There is no hurry. His inheritance is safe. I rule it well.’
Yuvanashva’s inheritance was indeed safe in the hands of Shilavati.
Those who entered Shilavati’s audience chamber, noticed on the copper plate behind her, the image of Akshya-patra, the vessel of the gods that is forever spewing out abundance. On the floor before her was the image of a turtle symbolizing the steadfastness of her rule. On the walls were paintings of lions standing proud on elephants. The elephant represented a rich and fertile kingdom; the lion represented its king, lord and master.
Who is the king of Vallabhi, wondered Mandavya. It
‘I am scared, Arya,’ said Simantini. The words just slipped out as Yuvanashva placed his hand rather hesitatingly on her thighs. No man had ever touched Simantini’s thighs. As she felt his hand slip down her arm, her thighs craved for his touch. The desire frightened her. She regretted revealing her feelings. Would he withdraw, she wondered.
‘I am scared too, Bharya,’ admitted Yuvanashva, almost biting his tongue as the words left his lips. Kings-to-be must never show their weakness.
Simantini turned to face her husband. She saw the curiosity and the anxiety in his eyes. He was just a boy. Scared as she was. Nervous as she was. He had opened up to her. Revealed his vulnerability. Now it was time for her to open up. Part her thighs. She wanted to caress the fine hair on his chest. Run her fingers down his back. Bite his shoulders and his arm. But she controlled herself. He had to take the lead. She would comply. She would submit as good wives are supposed to. The Apsara dancing to the Gandharva’s tune.
A gentle breeze blew out the lamp. Yuvanashva kissed Simantini. His tongue sought entry into her mouth. She parted her lips. Let him probe her, explore her. She spread herself like the earth and welcomed him as if he was the rain. He slipped in effortlessly.
For Simantini, this was the moment when Yuvanashva became part of her soul.
For Yuvanashva, it was a moment of growing up. ‘She is the embodiment of Vallabhi,’ Mandavya had told him. ‘If she is happy, the kingdom is happy. If she is fertile, the kingdom is fertile. Take care of her. She is your Lakshmi and you are her Vishnu.’
For Shilavati, who sat alone in her room looking at the Arundhati star and remembering her own wedding night, this was the moment when the doorway opened between the land of the living and the land of the dead. If all went well, an ancestor would find his way into earth and the dreams would stop. And so would her rule.
five years
With a wife by his side, Yuvanashva was finally crowned king. As the Brahmanas poured milk and water on him during the ritual consecration, they noticed how handsome he was. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, his arms long. His thick long wavy hair extended right down to his hip. Yes, he is virile, thought the Brahmanas. He would father many sons.
Shilavati, however, did not let Yuvanashva rule. Court continued to meet in her audience chamber, not in the maha-sabha. When Mandavya insisted that the prince must take charge of his destiny the queen replied, ‘Why distract him from his husbandly duties? The ancestors are impatient to be reborn. Vallabhi is impatient for an heir. He needs to repay his debt to his forefathers who gave him his crown and his kingdom. There is no hurry. His inheritance is safe. I rule it well.’
Yuvanashva’s inheritance was indeed safe in the hands of Shilavati.
Those who entered Shilavati’s audience chamber, noticed on the copper plate behind her, the image of Akshya-patra, the vessel of the gods that is forever spewing out abundance. On the floor before her was the image of a turtle symbolizing the steadfastness of her rule. On the walls were paintings of lions standing proud on elephants. The elephant represented a rich and fertile kingdom; the lion represented its king, lord and master.
Who is the king of Vallabhi, wondered Mandavya. It
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