Pregnant King, The by Devdutt Pattanaik Page B

ago. ‘Four people can play this game,’ exclaimed Keshini.
    ‘Yes, but two are enough,’ said Simantini.
    ‘But are we not four?’
    ‘Four?’
    ‘You, me, the king and the middle queen. We can all play together. It will be fun.’
    Simantini found the idea outrageous. She organized a game and invited both Pulomi and the king to participate. To her surprise both came, Pulomi because she liked Keshini’s incessant chatter, Yuvanashva because he had nothing else to do. They played all night. The king and his three queens. And they had fun. By the time the sun rose, they were friends. Laughing and fighting over the rules of the game. It was a long time since the palace had heard such laughter. It scared the crows away.
    The king allowed clay to be brought into the new queen’s courtyard for Keshini. At first everyone found the idea of a queen playing with clay disgusting. Then the clay turned into dolls. Kings, queens, monkeys and pigs, Ganga on her dolphin, Vishnu on his hawk, Shiva and Shakti on the bull called Nandi, the goddess Tarini and her seven handmaidens, the Matrikas, and their warrior son, Agneya, riding a peacock. She made dolls for the king, for the first queen and the second queen. She made dolls for her maids and the cooks who assisted in the kitchens and the guards who claimed it was for their children but kept it secretly for themselves. Sheeven made an elaborate doll for Shilavati. Indra seated on his elephant. Shilavati could not hold back a smile.
    ‘Let us play hide-and-seek,’ said Keshini one day.
    ‘Let’s,’ said Yuvanashva, indulgently.
    And so they hid behind pillars and tapestries. The king was blindfolded. The queens ran through corridors trying to catch each other. They screamed and yelled and tumbled over pots and pans. The old servants rolled their eyes. The young ones clapped their hands and cheered enthusiastically.
    Shilavati asked her servant, ‘What’s all this commotion?’
    The servant replied, ‘The king is playing with his wives, Devi.’
    ‘Oh,’ said the queen, scowling.
    ‘You are not letting him rule. At least let him have fun,’ said Mandavya, trying hard not to smile.
    It was while playing hide-and-seek that Keshini one day fell into the arms of Yuvanashva. She felt his strong arms around her waist. She realized she did not want him to let go. He kissed her neck and nibbled her ears. She moaned. His hand stretched down below her navel and between her thighs. Simantini ran into the room with Pulomi. They saw their husband making love to his new wife. Both withdrew quietly. Somehow, neither felt anger or jealousy. Simantini looked at the tamarind tree of the corner room across the wall and the cradles hanging on its branches. ‘Let us hope she bears him a son.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Pulomi. ‘Let us hope she makes our husband truly king.’
    But this did not happen. Like Simantini and Pulomi, Keshini bled month after month.
    Yuvanashva found himself going to three ripe wombs as the moon waxed and waned. He looked forward to those few days when he was under no such obligation. On those days, he would go to the maha-sabha alone, sit on the throne, hold the bow and imagine the day the elders of the four varnas would bow before him out of genuine respect and not merely in ceremony.
his brother’s breath
    Two years passed. The Pandavas completed their thirteenth year in exile, having spent the final year disguised as servants of Virata, king of Matsya, stripped of their identity and dignity. Now it was time to return to Indra-prastha. But the Kauravas went back on the terms of the agreement. They refused to give Indraprastha back. Krishna tried to negotiate peace. Five villages for five brothers, he offered. ‘No, not a needlepoint of territory,’ said the Kauravas, declaring war. Invitations were sent by the two sides to all the kings of Ila-vrita to join them in Kuru-kshetra.
    Yuvanashva wanted to go. But when he saw his mother’s look of disapproval, he said,