The comments were coming so quickly that I didn’t have time to answer a single one before Moti returned with the woman from the garden, and a kind of hush fell over the group.
Kahini was stunning. To this day, I have never seen such an exquisite face. Her features were so precise and sharp they might have been carved from alabaster. She was dressed in a blue silk angarkha and close-fitting churidars. Both pieces were trimmed in silver and delicately painted with images of open lotus blossoms. Her hair was divided into four dark braids that were twisted together, her ankles and wrists were ornamented with small, silver bells, and around her neck was a delicate turquoise and silver necklace.
“So you are the new guardswoman,” she said, and her voice was devoid of either welcome or criticism, like an empty pot waiting to be filled.
“This is Sita Bhosale of Barwa Sagar,” Sundari repeated. “One of you must show Sita to the Durgavas, and then to the maidan. Who wishes to do this?”
“I will,” Kahini said.
There was a pregnant silence, as if no one had expected her to offer.
Sundari hesitated. “Fine.”
The other women immediately backed away, and I wondered if Kahini held some sort of special status in the Durga Dal.
“Come,” she said with a smile.
The women parted before us, and I followed Kahini across the queen’s room into a long hall painted with images of birds. The artist had taken care to render each bird in its common habitat. There were peacocks strutting across marble courtyards and egrets feeding near shallow lakes. “We’ll go to the Durgavas first,” Kahini said. Then she stopped beneath a painting of a heron. “You do know what the Durgavas is?”
I shook my head, and felt my cheeks flush.
“No one has told you how the guardswomen live?”
I’m sure if the roots of my hair could have turned red, they would have, too. “We get very little information about Jhansi in my village.”
“Of course,” Kahini said pityingly. “Which village did Sundari say you were from?”
“Barwa Sagar.”
“That’s north?”
“South.”
Her smile was so brief that I might have imagined it. “Well, the Durgavas is nothing more glamorous than a room with ten beds. Our servants sleep outside this room on the floor.”
“The former members of the Durga Dal,” I said, repeating what Sundari had told me.
“Yes. Although the members of the Durga Dal who become leaders are given estates of their own with handsome pensions.”
“So Sundari-ji will be given an estate when she retires?”
“As will the woman who takes her place.” Kahini stopped outside of a curtained doorway and regarded me. “We are all aiming for the same thing.”
“And how does the rani choose the leader?”
Kahini allowed herself a full smile, and a row of perfectly white teeth flashed against her red lips. “Humility.” She pushed back the curtains and stepped inside.
Ten beds, with fluffy mattresses and massive wooden frames, lined the frescoed walls of the Durgavas. I followed Kahini across the room, and when she stopped in front of the last bed near the wall, I immediately reached out to touch it. It was something fit for a maharaja.
“Certainly you’ve seen a bed before,” Kahini said.
“No. I sleep on a charpai at home.”
“Well then, you’re going to be quite surprised when you see the Durbar Hall. Though I doubt you’ll see it today. The rani hasn’t gone at all this week; she spends most of her afternoons praying to Durga to keep her from the sick bowl. Which is too bad, because soon she’ll be as fat as a sow and unable to walk anywhere.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. I had never heard anyone talk about a pregnant woman this way, much less the Rani of Jhansi.
“Oh, you don’t have to pretend to be shocked. It’s the truth, and I tell it to the rani herself.”
“She doesn’t get angry?”
“Perhaps. But she values my honesty.”
“And humility,” I offered.
“Yes.” She sat on the bed, and I tried to look as elegant as she did while doing something as simple as taking a seat. “Honesty is an extremely important quality to the rani. Pay attention to what she wears,” she said. Then she lowered her voice, as if what she was about to say was a secret. “Most days, her only jewelry is a plain pearl necklace and pearl earrings.”
“What must she think of your jewelry, then?”
Kahini sat back to get a better look at me. “Only the rani shows her humility in her dress. We are expected to show it in our actions. If you noticed, the women in the rani’s room were all dressed in silk saris.” She glanced at my traveling chest, made from old wood and tarnished silver buckles. “You packed a few yourself, certainly?”
I owned nothing made from silk. Just two new kurtas and the best juti my father could afford. “No.”
“Oh.” Then with forced cheer, she added, “I’m sure the other guards will let you borrow a few things until you purchase better clothes.”