A sister returning to a sister's womb.

****

Just like when she first came to Ishgar, several women showered flowers on Ishvara as she entered the palace, hand-in-hand with her mysterious husband Aryamna.

"All the women have been rescued. Some were sold, some were without a family, suffering alone. They were brought to the palace where they could live a better life," Aryamna said.

Ishvara, however, was soon won over by dizzy sensations.

She wanted to revel in and understand this feeling– it was as if she were a child meeting her parents after a week long, returning home after an exhaustive journey. It was a sweet feeling, very familiar and welcoming. However regal the palace looked, it didn't overwhelm her.

Instead, she wanted to look into every corner, know everything about it.

Maybe I already know.

Soon, she saw the Rajan and Indumala. Today both of them were dressed magnificently– the Rajan wore a red headdress with sleek chains of gold coiled around it. He had put a cream uttariya over his left shoulder. A red spotless white dhoti was wrapped around his legs. A topaz pendant hung from his neck.

Then, she saw Indumala, smiling at her. She was dressed in a yellow top and a frilled skirt. A big white cloak occluded her back. She wasn't carrying a spear like during the marriage but a sword was attached to the belt over her waist.

The bodyguard beamed from ear to ear when she saw Ishvara. Her joy knew no bounds. Ishvara too found herself grinning. They walked towards each other, arms wide open to embrace.

"Now, I have someone to call Maa." Indumala hugged her, and she returned the warmth.

Indumala was inebriated by the sweet smell emanating from Ishvara. She thought hard but could not remember where she had smelled it. Quick flashes of a woman passed across her vision.

Do I know her?

"And I have a daughter," Ishvara said. She cupped Indumala's face. "I will call you Indu like your Baba does."

Now that she saw her up close and felt her touch, Indumala swore it seemed familiar. No, it wasn't like the love she received from the women of the guild. This was different, something older. Strangely enough, she could see her own eyes when she looked at Ishvara. They were exactly the same, as if copied to even an eyelash.

"Welcome, Ishvara." The Rajan came forward. "This is your home too."

"I am grateful to have been invited, Rajan."

"Call me Rudra. Consider me your brother." He smiled. Ishvara felt butterflies in her stomach. The Rajan's eyes shone with a love she often missed.

And then, it struck her. Brother.

Does he not look like the fair man from my nightmares?

"Rudra it is, then."

Ishvara went through a myriad of emotions in that small span of time. Maybe she was standing in front of people who all knew her and waited for her to remember them. It was a painful situation. It saddened Ishvara to know she wasn't the only one suffering. Maybe her husband and the Rajan were mourning the same loss.

"Come, I will guide you around the palace," Indumala said and took her hand. Rudra and Aryamna followed the two girls.

The wife of the Senapati studied the ornate walls– pearls from the mighty Samudra, emeralds and rubies studded on the pillars. Paintings of Gods and Goddesses, of the Samudramanthan adorned the palace. The guards stood with an erect spine, their armours shining akin to polished diamonds.

Ishvara looked down at her feet which touched the cool marble. It sent a cool trickle down her spine, but a comforting one. Unlike Gandhar, she felt at ease in Rajan's palace, even if she had an aversion to luxuries. As she walked beside the temples, she heard some priests and women chanting the name of Vishnu– Om Namo Bhagvate Vasudevaya. It was a Shiva temple indeed, but who cared about the external form? All are the same!

The path became narrowed before merging with several other such thin paths. About ten of them united in an intersection, from where a new part of the palace had begun.

She realised she was in the women's quarters of the palace. The carvings and colours on the walls depicted the various divine couples of Sanatana Dharma– Rama and Sita, Krishna and his eight wives and gopigan, and many more. After walking some distance the couples of Kemet came along– Ausar and Aeset, Horus and Hathor. Whoever had given the spirituality a place inside this palace of maya was a wise soul.

It pleased Ishvara to see the different gods come together.

"Can I touch them?" Ishvara asked.

"You can, Maa! Even when I came here, I was amused by its glimmer and splendour."

"But it feels like a second home to me," Ishvara said, tracing her slender, tanned fingers over the walls. Indradeva was riding Airavata with Sachi, and they looked royal and beautiful. The painting was embellished with precious stones taken from the depths of the ocean and the garments of the couple were gilded.

Her vision went cloudy.

A similar scene came to her mind, the only difference being that the couple now were darker in complexion, against a background which was similar to a youthful Ishgar– lush green mountains, trees and merciful showers of rain. People were cheering the names of a king and his beloved. Unknowingly, she smiled to herself, a warm sensation filling her bosom.

She knew this Rajan. She had seen him in her nightmares some days before, and she saw him everyday too.

Ishvara turned towards Aryamna with a purpose. "Aren't these carvings wonderful?"

"They are."

"The palace is so homely and nice."

Their eyes glinted. Both desired to say and hear a lot, but controlled themselves.

The four reached the Hall of Intellect. A feast had been laid down. Dilrobar welcomed them with a namaskara. "I am glad to meet the Senapati's wife."

"Don't ask why she uses a veil. She always does," Indumala whispered in her Maa's ears.

"Who is she?" Ishvara turned to Rudra.

"A rescued lady," he stated plainly.

Indumala furrowed her brows. Is that what she gets after serving your pleasures?

Oh wait, does she even? Is their equation something different?

"Please take a seat and be comfortable," Dilrobar said.

"What is your name, may I know?" Ishvara asked.

Dilrobar fidgeted. "Uh–"

"Oh, you don't need to remember so many names!" Rudra laughed nervously. "Let us sit for the feast."

Both Ishvara and Indumala were surprised by the behaviour of the Rajan, but they thought it better to not question.

Ishvara feasted on an indigenous fried rice named laaja along with a curry made from various vegetables. There were deep fried brinjals, pumpkin soup and lentil balls cooked in milk with mixed herbs.

"They are delicious, thank you."

"Rudra is a hard name to spell, isn't it?"

Ishvara giggled. The man was not so bad as rumours narrated him as. After she finished the main course, dessert was brought. From the knowledge of Pākaśāstra, karambha was served, a favourite dish of the deity Pushan. Dhana, made by frying barley in butter was brought in next. When this same dhana was refried in butter, mixed with curd to make a gruel, karambha was formed. There were also plenty of thekuas.

"After this, take her with you. Spend some time with her," Rudra told Indumala.

"I will be forever grateful to you, Rajan, for making this dream of mine come true. Now I have a complete family." She dreamily stared at the golden chandelier. "I just need a husband."

"Well, I cannot find a husband for you but there are plenty of army men who would die to be your spouse."

Indumala slicked back her hair. "I know. One day people will want me to be the Rajan. Then I will snatch away your throne," she joked.

"Oh, so I have a betrayer here?" Rudra feigned to be angry. "Then I need to keep an eye on you. What if you and your Baba are planning to dethrone me?"

Aryamna watched the two banter. No doubt they had indeed grown closer. Maybe this was good, because she had to serve him forever, but the Senapati was worried.

He was scared. Yes. It was the fear of a father, of a parent.

"They go along quite well, don't they?" Ishvara said. "The Rajan isn't a bad person."

"I don't think he is bad. But extremely imperfect."

"You shouldn't judge."

"I see. Siding with your brother?"

Ishvara chuckled.

Aryamna heaved a sigh. However hard he tried to control fate, he couldn't. Everything was pre-destined, at least some things were.

After they were done with the food, Rudra spoke, "I will have to leave the palace for some days. Aryamna, stay here with your wife and oversee the duties."

"Where are you going?" Indumala asked.

Rudra hesitated. He cleared his throat. "It's a place named as Valley of Saints." Indumala didn't know yet what he was. Would it be right to take her along? "Do you want to come with me?"

"She won't go." Aryamna shot him an irked glance.

Indumala looked between the two men. What is the problem? "Why can't I go there?"

"Your Baba simply means that your Maa needs some company. I told you to spend time with her, did I not?" Rudra tried to lessen the damage. "So be here. And you can help your Baba too when free. I will go on my own."

"Is the place safe?"

"Yes, Indumala. It's the safest place for me, and no I am not sarcastic."

Indumala pouted. "Alright, then go."

"She takes her bodyguard duty seriously," Rudra told Aryamna. The latter sat with a disgruntled frown. "Indumala, take your Maa to your room. Show her the palace. Also, make her meet Mataraj and Devanj." He lowered his voice before uttering the next words. "Don't let her be close to Dilrobar, alright?"

"And I can't ask why, can I?"

"You cannot. Just know it's best for your Maa."

Rudra talked with them for sometime while the last arrangements for his departure were being made. The family of the Senapati wished him a safe journey and the Rajan of Aryavarta left for the Valley of Saints in search of answers.

Answers that were soon going to topple his life.