As soon as Kahini reached the top of the platform I made my first lunge. She immediately crumpled to the floor and grabbed her ankle. “It’s twisted!” she shrieked. “I’ve twisted it!” And the look on her face was one of pure agony.
Now, you can believe what you like, but I seriously question whether Kahini was in any pain at all. Still, she remained prone until Sundari arrived to help her to her feet. Then she hobbled down the stairs, moaning dramatically as she went. At the last step, Rajasi hurried to her side, and Kahini shifted from Sundari’s shoulder to Rajasi’s.
Sundari looked at the pair of them. “What a shame your accident happened just as you were about to fight Sita, Kahini.”
Kahini scowled as they led her away.
In any case, I was glad not to have to face Kahini that day, who was quickly positioning herself as my competitor.
After my performance on the maidan, the Durgavasi seemed to split in two: those who felt threatened by the skills that my father and Shivaji had taught me, and those who were impressed. It didn’t surprise me that Kahini and Rajasi wanted nothing to do with me. But when we went to the baths and I reached for my towel, I was surprised when Mandar stood in my way.
“Excuse me,” I said.
Mandar didn’t move.
“Will you please—”
The rani sighed. “Step aside, Mandar.”
I reached for my towel and began to feel as though everything I had worked toward was becoming both a blessing and a curse. What had been the point of all those years of hard work if they only brought loneliness and resentment?
I left the baths early, and while the other women took their time changing into their clothes, I sat in the courtyard opposite a fountain, watching the peacocks flit from tree to tree. The rani paid the Durgavasi weekly, and in two days, I would be able to buy a new angarkha with my wages. I would find whatever silk was cheapest and make something from that. Whatever was left over, I would send to Anu.
I was thinking about my sister, mentally writing the letter that I wanted to pen her that evening, when I caught a slight movement at the edge of the courtyard. Someone was sitting on a bench on the other side of the fountain, turning the pages of a small red book. Just as I noticed him, he looked up.
“Ah, the new recruit everyone’s talking about,” he said. I recognized him as the young captain of the guards. He closed his book and made his way over.
I looked down, since I was sure I was blushing. “And why is that?”
“Are you searching for compliments?”
“I was searching for something to say,” I said, and I’m sure I sounded defensive. “You didn’t introduce yourself.”
He gave a bow. “I’m Arjun, and the men are talking because you’re beautiful.”
“I’m Sita, and I would much rather they talk about me because I’m skilled.”
He grinned. “May I sit?” He indicated a respectable distance away, so I nodded. “I saw what happened,” he said, “and I’m willing to bet the only injury Kahini received today was to her pride.”
“So she has a reputation.”
“I wouldn’t say it too loudly, but yes.” Arjun looked over my shoulder to the entrance of the queen’s rooms, and when it was clear that we were alone, he said, “Be careful with her. She has the ear of the raja. You don’t know me, but I’m giving you honest advice.”
“My father has already given me advice: the only words free of suspicious motives will be the ones I find in books.”
Arjun realized that I was including him among my father’s suspects, but he continued, “Your father was the one who taught you to read?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. I was afraid if I answered too loudly, he might hear the heartache in my voice. “He loved to read with me in English. Mostly we read Shakespeare.”
“There’s a great deal to read in our languages. Hindi, Urdu, Marathi,” he said. “Have you read Rumi?”
“The Persian poet?” Of course, I’d heard of him. But Father had been more interested in teaching me the Western classics, so I wasn’t familiar with him. “No.”
“Well, he’s the Shakespeare of the East.”
“Arjun-ji!” Kahini emerged from the queen’s room. You would have thought she was trying to sing his name, as if seeing us together was the very best thing that could happen for her. “I had no idea you were interested in talking to ganwaars. If I’d known that,” she said as she approached, “I’d have asked Gangadhar’s servant to pay you a visit.”
At that, I rose from the bench and bowed formally to Arjun. “It was kind of you to introduce yourself, but I have duties inside.” Then I smiled at Kahini. “I’m glad to see your ankle has healed so swiftly.”
That evening, the rani was too sick to join us in reading or writing. I was a little disappointed, and entirely for selfish reasons. I had been hoping that she might ask me to read for her again.