“Oh no. His sweet little face turned so red. I thought he would burst into tears, or maybe kick me. But he just yelled that I was lying and ran off.”
I dashed away the tears pooling in my eyes with the heel of my hand. So Rama had, despite the best efforts of all of his mothers and even his father, adopted a poor attitude toward women. I could still fix this. I would speak to Lakshmana, who was Rama’s confidante and the most observant of my four sons. I would try to determine if all the boys felt the same way, and then regardless I would dismiss all of their tutors. I had always taken an interest in the boys’ learning, teaching Bharata his letters, observing Rama’s physical training, telling Lakshmana and Shatrugna old stories about great heroes that I recalled from my childhood trips to the library cellar. But maybe I needed to do more. Perhaps I could even find a female scholar for one of their subjects, just to make sure the boys understood that women could be learned as well, and could hold many respected positions.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Asha said.
“Why are you apologizing? This is not your fault. It is mine. Rest assured I will impress upon Rama the rudeness of the way he spoke to you.”
“There’s no need. I am just a servant, and the princes can speak to us however they wish. I should apologize to him, for refusing his orders.” Asha enjoyed walking the edge of impropriety with me, but she did her best to be perfectly courteous to all others.
“If you apologize, it will further reinforce for him that women should know their place and be submissive and modest and all of the rest. Please do not.”
She bowed her head. “As you wish.”
That evening, I hurried to the courtyard, intent on finding Rama and giving him a piece of my mind. Instead, I rounded the corner straight into a familiar stone.
“We must stop meeting this way,” a booming voice said, chuckling as he helped me up.
I looked up and up, a smile splitting my face despite my worries. “Raja Ravana! It is so good to see you.”
He chuckled. “It is wonderful to see you, Radnyi. How long has it been?”
“Ten years,” I said. “How times change.”
“I think about you often,” he said. While the years had given me the first glints of silver in my hair, and deepened the lines around my mouth, Ravana appeared completely unchanged, his glowing skin still perfectly smooth and his black curls gleaming in the evening light. He lowered his voice. “How goes the magic?”
“Very well,” I told him. “Does your vow still hold?”
“Of course.” He placed a hand on his heart. “Whatever you tell me will stay between us alone.”
“Ayodhya has a Women’s Council now, and it is thanks to you and your scrolls.”
“I have heard all about that—indeed, we have one of our own in Lanka,” he said. “But having met you, I think all credit is due to you, and not any paltry scroll. I believe you could have accomplished the same without magic.”
I blushed at his praise, warmed by the thought that even faraway Lanka had embraced what I had begun. “How have you been? How is your flying machine?”
“Almost ready.” A hint of bitterness colored his tone. “I can now get it to go up, but not come back down without utter destruction.”
“That is a difficulty. But I have no doubt you will figure it out eventually.”
“Mm. I hope so.” He looked down at me. “Are you not going to ask me why I am here? Have you become all-knowing since last we met?”
“No, no, that is still reserved for the gods.” His lips quirked and I returned his smile. “Would you tell me why you are here?”
“I am going back to Lord Shiva,” Ravana told me. “After I completed the necessary penance, he granted my request to spare Lanka for a time. But in the past few years, some villages at the southern tip of the continent requested Lanka’s protection, and they brought with them new troubles.”
“What troubles?” I asked.
“A wave of illness. Sudden and ferocious lightning storms. Destruction that is obviously divine in nature. Have you not experienced such things when your kingdom expanded its territory?”
I shook my head, thinking of the vast expanse of Kosala. “No. Dasharath accepts new tribes often, and without unhappy incident.”
Ravana’s mouth twisted, and he looked forlorn. “Well, I always knew the gods disliked me particularly.”
“They have no fondness for me either,” I told him, placing my hand on his. “I am sure Lord Shiva will see your piety and grant you reprieve.”
“My piety is in short supply these days. But thank you.” We both stood in silence for a moment. “Where were you rushing off to, if I may ask?”
“A matter regarding one of my sons. I must have a difficult conversation with him.”
“A very important matter, then,” he said seriously.
“Do you have children of your own?” I said with a smile. He spoke as if he did.
The sadness in his face deepened. “No. Mandodari gave birth to a daughter, but… she is no longer with us.”
I could see from his expression that I had stumbled into his greatest pain. “I am so sorry. That is a terrible loss to bear.”
“She would have been almost your son’s age,” he said. “Nine.”
“Perhaps you and your wife will have another child, if that is what you wish.”
Ravana gave me a small, sad smile. “I hope so. But none will ever replace her. I do not think Mandodari will ever be the same, and neither will I.” He shook his head, as if throwing off his sorrow. “What an unseemly topic of conversation. I apologize, Radnyi. Will I see you at the feast tonight?”
“Yes, of course, Raja.”
How strange, I thought as we parted ways, that I had run into this faraway king twice in my life. Then I put him out of mind. If only I had paid more attention to his troubles, recognized them as warning, perhaps things would have ended differently. But I remained blissfully unaware of the gods’ disapproval.
Later, I would sit next to Ravana at the feast, laughing and swapping stories of Mandodari and Dasharath, of battles and victories, of Kekaya and Lanka. I wonder if anyone else remembers the feast, remembers how friendly we were. Maybe they recalled it years later, after the start of the great war, and believed I had been a traitor all along.
But before the feast, there remained the problem of Rama. By the time I made it to the courtyard, the boys’ studies had ended for the day. I found Rama playing a complicated game that involved the throwing of various stones with his brothers.
“Rama?” I called out to him. “Come here.”
He dropped his stones immediately and ran over.
“Hi, Ma,” he said, giving me a hug without prompting. I buried my face in his mess of hair, then pulled away to study his face. His large, light eyes stared up at me, bright and loving, fringed with thick, long lashes. Seeing all my sons arrayed before me, I could feel in my chest a love so bright it nearly hurt. Hope tingled inside me. Asha might have been mistaken—or maybe Rama had merely been joking, in a silly ten-year-old way.
“How was your day?” I asked, taking his hand and leading him a few steps away, out of earshot of his brothers.
“Good.”
Experience with my brothers had taught me that directness would get me nowhere. I idly wished that the men in my life could be as straightforward as the women, but I had to pick my battles.
“Did you do anything fun?”
“No.” As he shook his head, one perfect curl fell over his forehead. He was the most handsome of his brothers, and I knew that in a few years he would be invited to every swayamvara in Bharat.
“I did something fun today,” I told him, lowering my voice to get him interested.
“What did you do?” It worked. I had his attention.
“I went out to the public gardens and held a Council. Just like your father does sometimes. Your other mothers came with me.”
Rama wrinkled his nose. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“You shouldn’t leave the palace. What if men come and see you when you’re out?”