This
time the challenge over at Romantic Friday Writers is to write fan fiction. A quick definition of that is an original
story based on well known characters created by other writers, from literature,
theatre, films etc. Since it is the
Valentine month, RFW has created the challenge based on well-known fictional
lovers.
And here
is my entry:
I’m NOT Wearing Your Ring
I.
Anu was
looking distinctly upset when Priya came in and put down her baskets of plucked
fruits and flowers carefully, the flowers to be threaded into garlands, the
fruits offered before the deities and then distributed in the ashram, a job
they were both supposed to complete before dawn. But Anu had refused to get out today. Priya had heard her muttering in her sleep and
waking up suddenly even before the sacred moment for the pre-dawn rituals. Today, of all days! When there was so much to be done!
“Alright,
out with it! What’s bugging you now?”
“I had
the most disturbing dream.”
Priya
rolled her eyes. Anu was always getting
these odd dreams, and always at the most inconvenient times.
“Shunckoo
had gone bathing,” Anu spoke rather disjointedly,” The ring slipped off, then a
huge fish swam by and swallowed it up. And the King was smirking in the most insulting
way! What’s with this sudden wedding
anyways? Why this indecent hurry? Like
he just wants to get into her bed.”
“Shame
on you! And when did kings have to marry
anyone to do that?” Priya sounded
thoroughly fed up. “Now c’mon. We have
to get her ready.”
“I just
don’t like it, Priya! I know you don’t
believe me, but dreams are important. I
saw a Great Sage too, in an awful fury. Something dreadful is going to happen!”
“Just
zip it, gal! If Shunckoo hears you, she’ll be terribly hurt. And if the Great King hears you, then your
head will decorate the ramparts of his fort.”
Anu fell
silent, but her lips were pressed mutinously together. She was going to warn Shunckoo, never mind
the greatness of kings and their rampart decorations.
II.
The
bride was ready, they had had to keep things simple. No traditional finery in a
forest retreat, and that too without any notice. So she
had wristlets and armbands made out of hibiscus and oleander; hair-part
embellishments, and earrings of red rangan,
a girdle of heavy bunches of ashoka
flowers. She wore a coarse, homespun
silk that had been dyed mud-red with lac.
She looked breath-taking, Anu thought privately, far too good for any
mortal king.
“Priya,
dear,” Shakuntala’s voice showed the slightest tremor,” I think it’s time. Will you please request Great King Dushyant
to come to the grove?”
“Let Anu
go, I’ll stay with you.”
“No,
no,” the bride insisted, suddenly and uncharacteristically astute, ”Anu doesn’t
like him much, you know. She’ll probably
say something to make him get all upset.
You go.”
Priyamvada
smiled and left, and Anusuya sat dumbstruck – had she been so transparent? Shakuntala smiled upon her childhood friend,”
There’s no need to look so upset. I know
you don’t approve of my relationship.
You’ll fall in love yourself one day and you’ll understand. Till then no
hard feelings, alright?”
“I’d
never allow any hard feelings between us,” Anu said lightly, and then her tone
turned serious. “I don’t dislike your relationship. Just that I’m uncomfortable
with this gandharva marriage caper. Why can’t you guys wait till Rishi Kanva comes
back and gives you away as per regulations?”
“He’s
been gone for ages already, who knows when he’ll return?” Shakuntala sighed and
coloured, ”Neither of us is prepared to wait indefinitely.”
“Listen,
Shunckoo,” Anu talked urgently, her voice frantic, ”Priya doesn’t like me
talking of dreams, but they show the future.
They foretold the king coming here, about this very love beforehand,
didn’t they? So listen to me – I’ve had a very troubling dream last night. Hear me out and then make up your mind.”
“Tell
me.”
“It’s
all a little fuzzy, but I dreamed of a royal ring on your finger; and a Great
Sage in a fury cursed you. And the King forgot
you, he didn’t come back, though you waited for him. I saw the ring slip off. And a huge fish swallowed it. And you were
humiliated in the royal audience chamber, and your son ran into the forest with
a lion. I haven’t had a wink of sleep Shunckoo, I don’t know what all this means. I
wish you’d wait till your foster-father is back.”
“Oh,
Anu! You poor thing! Of course the king
will come back. He loves me beyond any
doubt. Why would he marry me otherwise?
Just calm down and stop worrying.
Everything will be fine.”
“How can
you be so sure?”
“I will
make it quite sure.”
III.
Shakuntala
woke up with Dushyant’s sleeping arm across her, his fingers still loosely
cupping her left breast. The flowers were strewn all over, the cottage smelt of
stale flowers and hours of glorious lovemaking.
She drew in a deep breath, her cheeks tingling slightly at the memories,
and wriggled till her breast fitted comfortably into the hollow of his palm,
the swollen nipple just brushing against the calluses made by hilts and
bow-strings. Who knew that just
breathing in and out could become so intensely, impossibly pleasurable? She
nuzzled into his flank till he woke up, and gave in.
Outside
the cottage, a white mare stood stock-still, her polished harness glinting in
the slanted soft dawn light. She waited till the rough
door opened and her master came out; she whinnied a little in greeting, but
didn’t move. He came and stroked her
nose, and Shakuntala followed him a little after, her hair impeccably done up,
the folds of her outfit faultless; but her face was a strange mixture of
languorous and panicked.
“When
will you come back?”
“Soon,
beloved. As soon as I can. Till then,” he took off his ring and made as
if to offer it to her,” this will remind you of me.”
Her eyes
suddenly held a far-away look, then came back shrewd and cool.
“I hate
to say this, but that’s way too loose for my finger. It might slip off, and then some nasty
character might misuse your royal insignia.
Give me your angad instead,
will you beloved?”
WC-996
FCA
Gandharva wedding – One of
the eight forms of marriage recognised by Hinduism which is based on the
consent of the bride and groom alone, without the consent/involvement of either
of their families. The man and woman take the vows themselves without priests
presiding, and the rituals are condensed to an exchange of garlands.
Angad – an ornament like
an armband, worn either on the forearm or upper arm, usually by noblemen/kings. Like rings, angads could also be signature pieces, used to conclusively
identify the wearer.
Some of
you may be familiar with the Mahabharata already. For those of you who aren’t, it is an Indian epic
that has a tale-in-a-tale format, originally written in Sanskrit. Several very famous romances form part of
it. Shakuntala and Dushyant’s love story
is one of them, told and retold and translated many times over for more than
two and a half thousand years, not just in India but right across the world. Read a
translation of the full text of Kalidasa’s Sanskrit play based on it here, and/or
a synopsis here.
The original story in short is this - Shankuntala is abandoned at birth and brought up by a sage, Kanva, in his forest retreat. She grows up with two other girls, Anusuya and Priyamvada, and all three become fast friends. The king of the region, Dushyant spots Shakuntala while out hunting and the two fall in love. They decide to marry, in the absence of Kanva, who is out on a pilgrimage. Afterwards Dushyant returns to his capital, but promises to come back as soon as possible, giving her his ring as a token. Shakuntala pines for him and neglects her duties at the ashram. One day, a very hot tempered sage visits them, but Shakuntala taken up with her own problems, forgets herself and does not greet him in the traditional manner. The sage is angered and curses her - the person that occupies your attention such that you forget to greet me, he too will forget you. Shakuntala's friends intervene and he can't take the curse back, but he relents enough to say that if she can show him some token of his affection then he will eventually remember. As per the curse, the king forgets his love, so after many days Shakuntala travels to find him. On the way, she stops to bathe in the river, and the ring slips off and is swallowed by a fish. She arrives at the palace, but of course the king can't recognise her, and nor can she produce the ring. She leaves humiliated. However the ring is found finally by a fisherman, and the insignia recognised, is taken to the king. And so the king remembers. She finally wins him back and does get to be queen. My story is a twist of this original, based on the fact that exchange of rings is not a formal part of Hindu weddings.
Today is also Bhasha Dibosh observed by Bengalis everywhere, and as International Mother Language Day elsewhere in the world. So it feels entirely apt that my post should be based on something from my own culture. If you are celebrating your language, Happy Language Day to you! And thank you, RFW, for the opportunity to dovetail the two celebrations into each other.
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