A brother to you is what Lakshman is to Sita.

****

Indumala had brought Ishvara to her room. Usually, it would be found in a mess– clothes piling on the floor, the sattu container left open carelessly.  Only the weapons, which she respected a lot, would be in place. But today she had kept aside her spears and swords and shields.

She moved the golden curtains to let in sunshine. It shed light on the carvings of beautiful women on the reddish-brown walls. It showed them pouring water from a pot while some stood with garlands around their neck. Even if it was the room of a warrior, it celebrated the delicate feminine without any shame or low confidence. Glossy green ferns and houseplants swayed in the corners of the room, their springy movements creating a dance to the melody of the silent breeze. In the middle was a bed over which lay a freshly washed bedsheet.

"I didn't sleep on a bed ever." Indumala nervously chuckled. "It was funny when I finally got one here in the palace."

Ishvara did have a bed in Gandhar, and plenty of clothes and accessories. What she lacked was love. She was surprised by the humble livelihood of her husband and Indumala. They were so far away from luxuries and yet happy.

"Let us sit." Indumala invited Ishvara to come and join her on the bed. "I want to talk to you about many things but I don't know where to start."

Ishvara and Indumala sat face-to-face, like two sakhis meeting after a long time. Indeed, a lot was there to share. After all, they were far from each other for so long. Not just days or years. They were separated by death, culmination of one birth leading to another.

"How about we begin with you? I can tell something about myself and you can tell me about yourself," Ishvara suggested.

Indumala remembered the Rajan's words. She couldn't ask anything about her Maa's past. She would just agree to whatever she had to say. "Baba found me during the plague. They said my parents died or, maybe they left me." Indumala bit her lips. "The plague was inside me too. I shouldn't have survived being such a fragile child, but I did."

Ishvara admired the aureate shine of Indumala's sorrel skin. Even if she was adopted, her skin was as gorgeous as her husband's. A sheen of tears glimmered in the bodyguard's eyes, hidden behind a thick veil of eyelashes. The princess was enraptured by the beauty of that pair. Mirrors to Indumala's soul, she found them eerily matching her own doe-shaped eyes, even the colour. Honey swirled in Indumala's brown pupils.

"The plague destroyed many lives. I also lost most of my family." Ishvara touched her belly. Her baby– where was the it now?

The marks on her body said the child was taken out before time. Maybe because she was sick with the plague and they had to save the life before it succumbed to death. As of Aryamna, whom she now knew to be connected to her past, where was he then?

She didn't want to think about the returning memories but she had to. They pulled her towards them like a moth running after the flame of a candle.

The Gandhar royals were not her family. She belonged here, in Ishgar, where familiar faces waited for her to discover more than simple familiarity.

"I was a sickly child. Defying all odds I grew up and became stronger day after day. Baba took care of me. I still remember how horrified I was one day when I found blood between my legs."

For a moment, Ishvara was horrified too, her thoughts occupied by monsters and animalistic desires.

"He told me what it meant to be a woman. I can't imagine someone washing his daughter's bloodied garments or her legs. I know fathers take days off their work to care for the women of his family, but my Baba didn't stop there. He taught me what it was to be me."

Ishvara relaxed. It wasn't assault that she was talking about but menstruation. "Baba is very nice man. Caring and loving. He respects women."

"Wait a moment, Baba?"

"I mean yours."

"No, you just can't call him anything like that. Didn't you give each other nicknames?"

Ishvara's eyes widened. A tint of red coloured her cheeks. "Nicknames?"

Indumala giggled. "Yes! Newlyweds do so! Don't tell me I need to teach you two adults how to go along with a marriage?"

"I..." Ishvara wheezed. "Really? I haven't thought about nicknames."

"Tell me if he is a good husband. Does he treat you well? Or else you can always write to me or Raksa or anyone from the guild. They will come and give him a good scolding."

"Someone is switching sides." Ishvara giggled. "I see now you belong to me, your Maa."

"Well, Baba had me for sixteen years. Now he needs to share. Hah, I think he will gladly! He wasn't even ready for marrying and the Rajan pushed him into matrimony–"

Ishvara stiffened. "Oh... It's sad. It shouldn't have been the case."

Indumala covered her mouth. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!" She smacked her head. "Ugh, don't tell the Rajan this. He will again shout at me. Actually, Baba was not ready for marriage, but I saw how he was looking at you during the rituals. I think Baba realises now we found someone too good for him."

A bittersweet thought revolved in Ishvara's head– did he become a celibate for me? Was he not ready to marry, to marry only me?

"So, is he cooking for you, Maa?"

Ishvara came out of her thoughts. "Yes. He cooks and serves too. I keep the home neat and clean."

"Good. I have reached one of the goals of my life– make Baba marry."

"When will you marry? Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Nope. I don't find someone interesting enough."

"Isn't the Rajan interesting?"

Indumala heaved a sigh.

The Rajan– what did she know about him? That he was extremely volatile. He could lose his temper any moment and hurl insults at her or anyone. His words pierced her heart like the spear she carried. He didn't show any remorse.

Until that day, when he misbehaved with the servant boy and had grabbed her by the arm.

His face was twisted in rage. Was he experiencing the same pain as her? But she hadn't done any magic to hurt him. She could never; he was her master. She couldn't abuse him even if he disrespected her. Yes, sometimes she lost it too, but she knew her life now belonged to the Rajan. If required, she would have to give it up to protect him. This was her oath– I, Indumala Payo, daughter of Aryamna Payo, vows to serve the Rajan, Indrasya Rudra Arumugam, with my blood, sweat and tears. I shall flung myself in the arms of death to save him from calamity. I shall take upon myself every attack to safeguard him. I shall be his shadow, following him like a loyal soldier who knows nothing but her master in the entire world.

And then she had cut her finger, letting the blood drop into the holy fire. She was bound to him. He wasn't.

Yet, he had apologised to her. And after that day, she saw more shades of him. His tears, his hidden melancholy, which unfortunately was still a secret to her. He broke the rule of a bodyguard for her– she should have gone to the Valley of Saints with him, as she was supposed to accompany him everywhere.

But he didn't take her.

Did he doubt her?

"He is very mysterious," Indumala said. "I have seen a lot of his emotions till now, yet I don't understand why they happen. He refuses to share with me. He calls me a comrade."

"So sweet. He sees you as a friend!"

"Maybe he does." Indumala twiddled a lock. "But he doesn't tell me what he cries for."

"He cries?"

"Yes. He does. But he doesn't tell me."

Ishvara smiled. "He will tell you, slowly. He needs time to trust. Maybe he has hidden it for so long that it's difficult for him to let it out."

"He is not as bad as the people say. You know, Maa, the folk spread rumours of how he bought women for his pleasure. I come here and–" She pursed her lips. "Oh wait, this was supposed to be a secret."

"Then let it be." Ishvara was immensely curious, her eyes enlarged and ears perked up.

"Just know those women weren't bought. They were saved and given a better place to live. I have seen them being happy with my own eyes. I don't understand why the Rajan allows people to talk behind his back. And then when angry he will shout at me."

"People show their anger only to their close ones. It's beautiful how he has given you a place in his heart so soon."

"Has he?"

"He has!" Another voice piped in. The women turned towards the door. There, Lord Devanj stood with a tray full of pomegranate seeds.

"Did you... peel those all on your own?" Indumala gaped.

Devanj came and sat on the bed. "Open your mouth," he told Ishvara. When the shocked princess was too confused to give a reaction, he put the tray on her lap. "Eat these. Yes, I peeled them on my own. I worked hard to impress the wife of the Senapati."

"You have turned old."

Ishvara touched his beard, stroking it like a fascinated child. Her eyes emanated a strange glow, uncanny and otherworldly. She recalled his younger face, the polished skin and sharp jawline that made even men swoon.

Devanj let her inspect him. He closed his eyes, pushing back the tears. Two women whom he saw as his sisters had returned. One tried to recall him, and another was still far from discovering.

Ishvara retracted her hand as if she had touched burning hot coal. Devanj gulped. He faked a smile. "Did you just see how handsome I was back in my youth, princess? Yes, I had so many men write me letters of love. Oh Shiva, I had such a great time!"

"You are into men, Devanj?" Indumala asked.

"I can do both." Devanj winked.

Ishvara was surprised by this man's warmth. He didn't seem to mind her odd behaviour. "I am sorry. You... you just looked similar to someone I already knew," she lied. "I mistook you for–"

"I think you know me, but you can't exactly remember," Devanj said. It sent shivers down Ishvara's spine. "Don't worry. Instead, have these delicious seeds. Open your mouth," he ordered. Ishvara did as asked and he fed her. Ah, what a ethereal feeling it was!

Devanj looked at the smiling Indumala. She opened her mouth, demanding to be fed too. His heart was fulfilled to know she hadn't forgotten to demand from him. He was her brother, and she could always ask for gifts from him.

But you don't remember, do you?

"I heard you two talking about the Rajan. I have known him for a long time, so I can can for sure that he has accepted Indumala as a part of his faithful group. Maybe she isn't as special as her Baba yet, but she will be one day, won't you be?" He pulled her cheeks. "Has he ever told you that you are adorable?"

Indumala grinned. "He has. I am adorable and he is irritable."

"Has he told you the latter too?"

"No. But everybody knows."

"Indu, don't say such things about him," Ishvara said. "He is older to you and our ruler."

"But you can always chide him," Devanj said. "He calls you his sister."

Ishvara blushed. Maybe Rudra was her brother, which was why he tried to protect her from the beast in the visions. The beast... who was none other than her husband Aryamna. Rajan Aryam.

And from what it looks like, you know me too, Devanj.

"You can consider me your brother too. A big old brother."

"I will call you Devanj, and you can call me Ishvara."

"So it's settled. Mother and daughter can bond now, I will go and help Aryamna."

Ishvara and Indumala waved at him. They looked at each other fondly. Indumala took Ishvara's palm and clasped the fingers with her own. "Maa, then?"

"And you, my Indu."

Indumala kept her head on her lap and relaxed, as Ishvara caressed her head. Her gentleness made Indumala feel light like a feather.

It was divine how she could embrace this woman as her mother so soon, as if she was really her mother. Was it because she had no one that she desperately wanted someone to call Maa?

No, she had Aryamna. She had a Baba who was no less than a Maa. And yet, this connection felt sacred, the one between her and Ishvara.

"Do you want to sleep?"

"Yes."

Indumala wiped a lone tear. She missed this– the lap of a mother, her lullabies. The way she would defend Indumala when Baba would be upset.

"My maiden, the night envious of you, where do you go in this darkness?

The moon hides behind the clouds

Don't you know good girls sleep when the owls call?"

Indumala had heard this lullaby somewhere. No, not in this life. Never. No one from the guild ever sang this to her.

Where had she, then?

"I go to my love, says the little one,

He lives in the mountains, all alone and morose

I go to put him to sleep

Merry, merry love, he waits for me!"

Indumala's eyes drooped. Soon, she was in the land of fairies and dreams.

And for the first time since Ishvara regained her consciousness, she didn't feel traumatised by singing the song that haunted her hazy memories.