Pregnant King, The by Devdutt Pattanaik

and ran to the window. The sky looked so different from the sky in her village. She craned her neck looking for the star.
the king is ‘dead’
    It was the dead of the night. The whole city slept. Keshini tiptoed out of the wedding chamber, trying hard not to let her jewellery tinkle. The lamps had died out. The sky was dark. All was quiet. Only the soft snoring of palace women filled the corridors. Keshini was scared. Everything was unfamiliar. A strange house with so many corners and corridors and walls covered with gigantic images of Kama and his Apsaras. She walked slowly, not knowing where to go. She peeped into the room across the courtyard. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she recognized the woman sleeping on the bed: it was the tall queen with kind eyes, who had given her the leaf-shaped box with lamp black for her eyes. Next to her, on the floor, were two maids. She crept inside, reached the bed and softly tapped the queen on her ankle.
    ‘What?’ asked Simantini, half asleep. She usually slept lightly, especially on nights she knew her husband was with someone else. She opened her eyes, raised her head, and tried to see who was caressing her feet. Her eyes widened as she recognized the new queen. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, getting up quickly. Keshini’s eyes were wide. She spoke but no words lefther lips. ‘What happened?’ asked Simantini coming close to her. The girl looked frightened. This was her wedding night. What had happened? Simantini feared the worst.
    ‘The king is dead,’ said Keshini, trembling like a leaf.
    ‘What?’ said Simantini.
    ‘The king is dead,’ Keshini said again. ‘He is lying still and I have tried waking him several times. But he does not move. I am sure he is dead.’
    Simantini rushed out of her room into the new queen’s chamber, dragging Keshini behind her. She did not want to wake up anybody. What had this potter’s daughter done?
    Inside, she found Yuvanashva sleeping, eyes shut, looking peaceful, his chest moving up and down gently. She shut her eyes and gave a sigh of relief. ‘He is dead, isn’t he?’ asked Keshini, looking up at her.
    ‘Stop saying that. He is just asleep.’
    ‘But he is so still and he did not wake up when I shook his hand and pulled his hair.’
    Simantini looked at the little girl, not sure whether to be shocked or amused. She noticed that Keshini was fully decked out. The flower garland had been squashed but it was still around her neck as it was around the king’s. And his dhoti was knotted. And the bed was not crumpled. Keshini’s nose-ring had not been removed. And the sandal paste patterns on her forehead were intact. Simantini frowned. Crinkled her forehead. Something was not right. ‘What actually happened here tonight? Tell me everything.’
    ‘Okay,’ said Keshini, smiling broadly, glad to have someone to talk to, relieved that her husband was not dead. ‘When he came in I was looking out the window looking for the Arundhati star. He must have beenstanding there for some time for I found him staring at me when I turned around. I told him the sky looks different from the sky in my village. He smiled. He sat on the bed. I sat next to him. “Are you afraid?” he asked and I said, “Of what?” and he said, “Of me?” and I said, “Should I be?” and he said, “You know who I am?” and I said, “You are my husband and I have to show you a star tonight.” Then he said, “And?” and I said, “And what?” and then he said, “Do you want to sit close to me?” and I said “I want to sit on your lap”. He let me. Then he kept staring at me. I kept staring at him. He looked into my eyes. And I looked into his. He did not blink. So I did not blink. Then I got bored of staring so I twirled his moustache and told him my father’s moustache was thicker and longer. I don’t think he liked what I said. Then he gave me a slice of betel nut. I put it in my mouth. It filled my mouth and was bitter. I