Kushadhwaj remained silent.
‘Mithila has raised its share of the money,’ said Sunaina. She pointed to the document. ‘Let’s seal the agreement and let the construction begin.’
Kushadhwaj smiled. ‘But Bhabhi, I don’t see what the problem is. The road is not that bad. People use it every day. I myself took that road to Mithila yesterday.’
‘But you are a king, Kushadhwaj,’ said Sunaina pleasantly, her tone studiously polite. ‘You are capable of many things that ordinary people are not. Ordinary people need a good road.’
Kushadhwaj smiled broadly. ‘Yes, the ordinary people of Mithila are lucky to have a queen as committed to them as you are.’
Sunaina did not say anything.
‘I have an idea, Bhabhi,’ said Kushadhwaj. ‘Let Mithila begin the construction of the road. Once your share of the one-third is done, Sankashya will complete the remaining two-third.’
‘All right.’
Sunaina picked up the document and a quill from a side table and scribbled a line at the end. She then pulled out the royal seal from her pouch and marked the agreement. She offered the document to Kushadhwaj. It was then that Kushadhwaj realised the significance of the lamp.
Lord Agni, the God of Fire, as witness.
Every Indian believed that Agni was the great purifier. It was not a coincidence that the first hymn of the first chapter of the holiest Indian scripture, the Rig Veda, celebrated Lord Agni. All promises that were sealed with the God of Fire as witness could never be broken; promises of marriage, of yagnas, of peace treaties … and even a promise to build roads.
Kushadhwaj did not take the agreement from his sister-in-law. Instead, he reached into his pouch and pulled out his own royal seal. ‘I trust you completely, Bhabhi. You can mark my agreement on the document.’
Sunaina took the seal from Kushadhwaj and was about to stamp the agreement, when he softly spoke, ‘It’s a new seal, Bhabhi. One that reflects Sankashya properly.’
Sunaina frowned. She turned the seal around and looked at its markings. Even though it was a mirror image of the symbol that would be marked on the agreement, the Queen of Mithila recognised it immediately. It was a single dolphin; the seal symbol of Mithila. Sankashya had historically been a subsidiary kingdom of Mithila, ruled by the younger members of the royal family. And it had a different seal: a single hilsa fish.
Sunaina stiffened in anger. But she knew that she had to control her temper. She slowly placed the document back on the table. The Sankashya seal had not been used.
‘Why don’t you give me your actual seal, Kushadhwaj?’ said Sunaina.
‘This is my kingdom’s seal now, Bhabhi.’
‘It can never be so unless Mithila accepts it. No kingdom will recognise this as your seal till Mithila publicly does so. Every Sapt Sindhu kingdom knows that the single dolphin is the mark of the Mithila royal family’s direct line.’
‘True, Bhabhi. But you can change that. You can legitimise this seal across the land by using it on that document.’
Sunaina cast a look at her husband. The king of Mithila raised his head, looked briefly at his wife, and then went back to the Brihadaranyak Upanishad.
‘This is not acceptable, Kushadhwaj,’ said Sunaina, maintaining her calm expression and voice to hide the anger boiling within. ‘This will not happen for as long as I’m alive.’
‘I don’t understand why you are getting so agitated, Bhabhi. You have married into the Mithila royal family. I was born into it. The royal blood of Mithila flows in my veins, not yours. Right, Janak dada?’
Janak looked up and finally spoke, though the tone was detached and devoid of anger. ‘Kushadhwaj, whatever Sunaina says is my decision as well.’
Kushadhwaj stood up. ‘This is a sad day. Blood has been insulted by blood. For the sake of …’
Sunaina too rose to her feet. Abruptly interrupting Kushadhwaj, though her tone remained unfailingly polite. ‘Be careful what you say next, Kushadhwaj.’
Kushadhwaj laughed. He stepped forward and took the Sankashya seal from Sunaina’s hand. ‘This is mine.’
Sunaina remained silent.
‘Don’t pretend to be a custodian of the royal traditions of Mithila,’ scoffed Kushadhwaj. ‘You are not blood family. You are only an import.’
Sunaina was about to say something when she felt a small hand wrap itself around hers. She looked down. The young Sita stood by her side, shaking with fury. In her other hand was the saddle that Kushadhwaj had just gifted her. She threw the saddle at her uncle. It fell on his feet.
As Kushadhwaj doubled up in pain, the Sankashya seal fell from his hand.
Sita leapt forward, picked up the seal and smashed it to the ground, breaking it in two. The breaking of a royal seal was considered a very bad omen. This was a grievous insult.
‘Sita!’ shouted Janak.
Kushadhwaj’s face contorted with fury. ‘This is an outrage, Dada!’
Sita now stood in front of her mother. She faced her uncle, daring him with her eyes. Spreading her arms out to cover her mother protectively.
The king of Sankashya picked up the broken pieces of his royal seal and stormed out. ‘You have not heard the last of this, Dada!’
As he left, Sunaina went down on her knees and turned Sita around. ‘You should not have done that, Sita.’
Sita looked at her mother with smouldering eyes. Then turned to look at her father, defiant and accusing. There was not a trace of apology on her face.
‘You should not have done that, Sita.’
Sita held on to her mother, refusing to let go. She wept with wordless anguish. A smiling Janak came up to her and patted her head. The royal family had gathered in the king’s private office. A few weeks had passed since the incident with Kushadhwaj. Sita, her parents had decided, was old enough to leave for gurukul; literally, the Guru’s family, but in effect a residential school.
Janak and Sunaina had chosen Rishi Shvetaketu’s gurukul for their daughter. Shvetaketu was the uncle of Janak’s chief guru, Ashtaavakra. His gurukul offered lessons in the core subjects of Philosophy, Mathematics, Science, and Sanskrit. Sita would also receive education in other specialised subjects like Geography, History, Economics, and Royal Administration, among others.
One subject that Sunaina had insisted Sita be taught, overriding Janak’s objections, was warfare and martial arts. Janak believed in non-violence. Sunaina believed in being practical.
Sita knew that she had to go. But she was a child. And the child was terrified of leaving home.
‘You will come home regularly, my dear,’ said Janak. ‘And we will come and see you too. The ashram is on the banks of the Ganga River. It’s not too far.’
Sita tightened her grip on her mother.
Sunaina prised Sita’s arms and held her chin. She made her daughter look at her. ‘You will do well there. It will prepare you for your life. I know that.’