Free Pregnant King, The by Devdutt Pattanaik Page B

seed and transform it into a sapling. Farmers chanted it while sowing seed and herdsmen when they brought the bull to the cow.
    Inside, Yuvanashva made love to his new wife with great care. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, soft as dough, and lively as a lotus. So different from his first wife, the only other woman he knew. This one stirred his flesh in a way Simantini never did. He could not wait for the ceremonies to end. He did not have the patience to bother with the Arundhati star. He removed her jewels quickly, caressing her skin, kissing it, licking it, gently coaxing her juices to flow.
    At first, Pulomi was embarrassed, scared, stiff. Then as she felt secure waves of feelings enveloped her. She wanted her husband to hurry up. For what, she was not sure. But she could not ignore the impatience of her flesh, the desperate desire for an unknown fulfilment. She placed her hand on his buttocks. Slowly, hesitatingly, she started to knead them.
    He gasped. She stopped. He looked at her. He had never experienced this with Simantini. Being the object of pleasure. He liked the feeling. He smiled in satisfaction and then started licking her ears, burying his tongue deep, liberating her from all inhibitions. She let herself enjoy him.
    The chants outside continued. Yuvanashva found themannoying. They reminded him why he had been given a new wife. At that moment, as he felt waves of pleasure with each thrust, he did not want Vishwakarma to shape anything. All he wanted was Kama to help him share the waves of pleasure with this girl who desired him as much as he desired her. She had never known the touch of a man. She wanted to explore him. He wanted to be explored. That feeling of being wanted, not by obligation, but by desire, thrilled him. This wife would surely be the favourite.
the corner room
    A fortnight later, Pulomi bled. And she bled a month after that. And after that. The servant who conveyed the news to Simantini could barely contain her glee. Simantini’s maids laughed. They hugged Simantini, assuming the news had made her happy too.
    Simantini was happy. Delighted. Ecstatic, in fact. She wanted to smile. Gloat. Jeer and clap her hands. But she did not. This was not right. Such reactions were unbecoming of a queen. She remembered her mother’s parting words, ‘A queen is one who remains gracious even in the most ungracious of circumstances.’ She was ashamed. How could she let herself be reduced to the level of her maids? How could she find pleasure in another’s misery?
    Pulomi’s presence in the palace reminded Simantini constantly of her failure. ‘Had I given my husband a child, she would not have come into this house. I failed, she came. Now she has failed too. Will there be a thirdqueen?’ These thoughts bothered Simantini.
    Simantini looked at the game of dice painted on the wall of her bedchamber. When she had seen it the first time, she had assumed she and her husband would be the only players. Then, she realized, four people could play the game. She had hoped it would be the two of them and their two children. After Pulomi’s arrival she realized the two of them would play the game, enjoy the game, and she would be an unwanted extra player. Now, it seemed there would be three wives playing Yuvanashva’s game of dice. A game without a winner.
    Simantini realized for all her gracious conduct and trained imperiousness she had the jealous heart of a commoner. She remembered her journey to the temple of Ileshwara shortly after her marriage. The silver doors. Above the silver door was a mask of black stone. A dreaded creature with no body, only a head. Staring at all those who came seeking the grace of Ileshwara Mahadev. Sticking out his tongue. Mocking them. Jeering them. ‘You may look noble. You may behave with reverence. But I know your dark thoughts and putrid emotions. I know you are pretending,’ he seemed to be saying. Simantini felt the black mask come alive in front of her.