I hurried past them as quickly as I could, but when I reached the doorway where Rajasi was standing, she stuck out her foot a little and I tripped. I would have been able to catch myself if I hadn’t been carrying Sundari’s bag. But as it happened, I made my entrance into the courtyard by falling almost flat on my face and, in the process, tearing the pants Father had ordered for me before I left Barwa Sagar.
Tears filled my eyes, and a rage burned inside of me with an intensity of feeling I didn’t know I was capable of. Moti, who was standing nearby, picked up my bag and offered me her hand. I took it and brushed off the dirt from my angarkha. Then Moti turned to Rajasi and said, “You’re lucky the rani wasn’t watching you.” Although now, of course, everyone was staring.
“As if the rani cares what happens to some little ganwaar. Isn’t that right, Kahini?”
Kahini ignored her. “If Sita doesn’t want to be the center of attention,” she said to Moti, “then perhaps she shouldn’t call it to herself.”
Moti took my arm and led me toward the group. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“I don’t know why they’re treating you this way. But two years ago, on the maidan, Kahini injured one of the new recruits so badly that the girl had to be returned to her father.”
“That isn’t going to happen to me.”
Moti glanced up at the determination in my words. “Be careful.”
When we reached the maidan, I saw a crowd of men had already gathered there. Moti explained that the ones with white murethas tied around their foreheads were part of the queen’s guard.
“But we’re the queen’s guard,” I said, and then I realized how foolish I sounded. I had seen men lining the halls outside the Durgavas. And the same uniformed men stood guard in the courtyard while we joined the rani in the bath.
But there was no contempt in Moti’s voice when she replied. “As soon as His Highness heard that the rani was carrying his heir, he ordered his best men to guard her chambers. That one is the captain.” She pointed to a man who wore the same open white vest and loose churidars that the other guards did, but I thought he looked too young to be a captain.
“Arjun was one of the most skilled men in His Highness’s army,” Moti said. “That’s why the raja has him guarding the rani.”
The other women had now gathered on the field, cutting the air repeatedly with their swords. A low platform had been set up, and Moti explained that for practice, two Durgavasi would be chosen to do battle until one of them made contact with the other’s body five times. The loser would be replaced; the victor would keep fighting until she lost.
“The rani insists that we use wooden swords when we practice,” Moti said. “So there isn’t much chance that Kahi—that anyone can do injury to you here.”
We walked toward the stage.
“Good news,” Kahini said as we approached, and in such a way that I knew it wouldn’t be good news for me at all. “Sundari-ji would like you to take the stage first.”
I looked to Sundari to confirm this, and she handed me a wooden sword. Immediately, I knew what she was doing: she was arranging it so that I could lose quickly and not face Kahini on the stage.
“Good luck,” Kahini whispered as I passed.
“Heera,” Sundari said loudly, “please follow Sita onto the platform.”
When I reached the top, I could see the entire maidan laid out before me. More soldiers had now gathered to watch, and I noticed the rani was under her tent, speaking with the man Moti had called Arjun. As Heera ascended the steps, the rani and Arjun both turned to watch us.
I had no idea how Heera liked to fight, but I can tell you a secret about sword fighting. Whatever you think you know about it, you are probably wrong. All sorts of foolish myths exist, most of them learned by reading books and watching plays. For example: the goddess Chandika attacks Karalasur with a simple sword; she thrusts once and the demon is slain. Or Edgar battles Oswald in King Lear armed with a wooden staff, and the audience believes that he kills Oswald, who is fighting with a rapier. But in reality, sword combat is about being in constant motion, grappling and using your weight as leverage.
Within the hour, I had defeated seven of the Durgavasi, including Rajasi and Jhalkari. Then Mandar ascended the platform. She was the largest woman in the Durga Dal.
“There’s quite a crowd watching,” Mandar said.
She was trying to distract me, so I didn’t turn to look.
Suddenly she lunged. I blocked her thrust. It was impossible to leverage my weight against her, for she was heavier and built like a well, round on all sides and completely solid. But I was lighter and quicker, and that counted far more. I wore Mandar out in the end.
Finally, Kahini ascended the stage—my last competitor. I was tired. My hair was dripping with sweat. In my ripped churidars, I’m sure I was a sight to behold.