Free Pregnant King, The by Devdutt Pattanaik Page A

It was his duty. He was told that the Brahmanas had decided to conduct the garbhadana samskara to ensure conception. This rite of passage made the private act between husband and wife a public spectacle.
    A hundred and eight sumangalis, married womenwho had borne sons and whose husbands were alive, stood at the gate of Vallabhi to welcome Pulomi. They blew conch-shell trumpets to ward off the malevolent spirits. They poured water on Pulomi to wash the dust of the journey and then prepared to place on her the sixteen love-charms that make a woman a bride. They anointed her with turmeric and then sandal paste. They dressed her in a fresh sari, red with a border of gold. They tied her hair and decorated it with a garland of champaka flowers. They painted her feet red with alta. They made her wear finely crafted gold jewels specially made for the occasion: toe-rings, two types of anklets, two types of cummerbands, one above the navel and one below, four types of bangles, two types of bracelets, two types of armlets, rings for all ten fingers, three types of necklaces, one binding the neck, one around the breasts, one slipping in between, nose-rings for the left, right and centre, two earrings, a hairpin, a band for the crown of the head and another for the brow.
    ‘By the time the prince removes these jewels he will be too exhausted to do anything,’ said one of the maids from Vanga.
    ‘One look at our prince and your princess will remove all the jewellery herself,’ retorted a maid from Vallabhi.
    The main courtyard of the palace was lined with mango leaves and marigold flowers for the wedding. Pulomi felt alone. If only her father could be present during the ceremony where a bride’s father formally gives her hand to the groom. ‘This is a mere formality. The moment your father accepted Vallabhi’s cattle, he had given you away. This ritual to simply tell the Devas that you have accepted Yuvanashva as your groom and they should not even think about seducing you.’
    As a child, Pulomi had grown up listening to stories of Devas seducing nymphs and young girls without husbands. The bards told her once, ‘The gods exist to bring life on earth. They miss no opportunity. They carry pollen of plants and seeds of animals in every direction looking for ripe unclaimed wombs. So better tell your father to get you a groom fast before they make you pregnant or you will end up as Kunti, mother before marriage.’
    Her head was bent and eyes lowered when the priest placed her hand on Yuvanashva’s palm. She did not see him when he lined the parting of her hair with red vermilion powder. She did not see him when he tied a string of beads, black as mustard seeds, round her neck. She did not see him when he placed his palm on her chest and requested her to make a place for him in her heart. She did not see him when she placed a garland round his neck and walked around the sacred fire with him. She did not see him when together they took the seven steps that makes man and woman husband and wife.
    When she finally saw him, it was night. He held her chin and raised her face. She kept her eyes closed. Afraid of the Asura. ‘Open your eyes,’ he said. His voice was deep and rich and soft. She did. He looked like no Asura. He was radiant like the moon. He had brown eyes. His moustache was thick and well curled. His hair soft and long. She felt her heart beating faster. Her lips went dry. She had a deep desire to touch him. He looked so curious. So welcoming. So unthreatening. He tilted her head and kissed her. She did not know what to do. Was he not supposed to point to the Arundhati star? Was she not supposed to pretend shedid not know where it was?
    Outside, the priests chanted loudly so that the couple inside could hear them, ‘Now that Vishnu has prepared the field, let Brahma bring forth the seed. May Vishwakarma shape the child and Vayu breathe in the life.’ This rhythmic chant had the potent power to help the soil cling to the