Pregnant King, The by Devdutt Pattanaik Page A

spat it out. He looked at me strangely. I thought he was angry. Then he smiled and said, “Tell me about yourself?” and I said, “What do you want to know?” and he said, “About your village, your family, your house. Everything”. And so I told him all that I could remember. I told him about my house, our courtyard and the potter’s wheel that I was not allowed to touch and where my father made pots and the furnace in our courtyard and the pit where I and my mother made clay and my brothers who loved throwing clay on me and the strange pots my father made for the doctor that I carried to his house every morning and the doctor’s son who had left the village and now lived in the palace.’ Keshini paused, ‘That’s when he looked at me curiously and asked, “You know Asanga?” and I said, “Of course. He always waits at the gate of hisfather’s house every morning when I bring in the pots in the morning. He looks at me strangely. And wants to talk to me. But I don’t like talking to him.” Talking about Asanga was so boring so I changed the topic and told him of the seven-goddess’ shrines of my village, of the neem tree on whose branches is tied the sacred swing for the goddess in springtime and in autumn. I told him of the pots we bake for the temple, of the new pond in the village and the Brahmana boys who bathe there and one of them who everyone calls “donkey” though I don’t know why, and the girls who get into trouble when they steal flowers from Trigarta’s garden, and the little goat who slips into my house sometimes and breaks the pots, and the fair that is held each year after the rains, and the…’
    Simantini felt her eyes growing heavy with sleep. Keshini kept talking and talking. But Simantini heard nothing. That did not stop Keshini. She kept chattering. Simantini realized how the king had ‘died’. She too was on the verge of ‘dying’. ‘Are you hungry?’ she said forcing herself awake, widening her eyes, straightening her back.
    Keshini stopped. Then smiled. ‘Yes. I have eaten nothing since meeting the queen. They told me I have to fast. And I told them…’
    ‘I know. I know. Just keep quiet and I will give you some food.’
    Simantini got up and Keshini followed her to the palace kitchen. A vast hall full of vessels and vegetables and pots and pans and stoves. There was someone moving inside. ‘Who is that?’ asked Simantini in a firm voice.
    ‘It is me, sister. I was hungry. Did not want to wakeup anyone.’ Simantini recognized Pulomi’s voice. She always ate when she was upset.
    ‘What did you find?’
    ‘Lots of food. Sweets mostly. Prepared for the morning feast.’
    ‘Now you have two more mouths to feed.’
    Pulomi came out of the kitchen carrying a vessel of sweetmeats. ‘Two?’ She then noticed the little girl next to Simantini. She looked at Simantini curiously.
    ‘Don’t ask,’ warned Simantini, afraid the child-bride would start talking again.
    Keshini did not look at either of them. She peered into the kitchen. ‘Oh my. This is bigger than my whole house. And there are so many pots here and pans and … Oh look.’
    Simantini and Pulomi watched Keshini run into the kitchen and come out with a bamboo basket. In it were mangoes. Sweet, juicy mangoes. Keshini smiled. Her teeth were like pearls. Her eyes wide with excitement. Pulomi stifled a giggle. Simantini’s heart melted in maternal affection.
    That night, while the palace slept, and the city slept, and Yuvanashva lay ‘dead’ on his wedding bed, his three wives sat outside the kitchen and sucked on the sweetest of Vallabhi’s mangoes.
friends
    Although she was given her own courtyard with a pond attached to it, Keshini preferred staying with Simantini. Simantini treated Keshini like a daughter,braiding her hair, bedecking her with jewels and cooking food for her. Keshini liked this very much. She also enjoyed playing dice.
    Simantini showed her the game of dice that had won her heart long