Recap:

Valli narrates the growing discord in the kingdom. Narobha’s favoritism towards Neeli and Jeyasinghan leads to public humiliation for Pasupati. Despite Pasupati’s appeal for justice after being unfairly attacked by Jeyasinghan, Narobha dismisses the incident, leaving Pasupati feeling abandoned. Tensions simmer between the rightful heir and the favored son of the concubine. Parvata Vardini, increasingly isolated and disillusioned, witnesses her son’s suffering and the erosion of her own position.

Chapter 18/26: Rancorous Retort

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Valli‘s voice, though soft, carried a weight of understanding. “It is true, Maharani,” she began, “that women are often conditioned to endure abuse and injustice, to accept unfairness. But the moment that injustice touches their children, that ingrained tolerance shatters.”

That morning, the silent bikshu had arrived. As always, his demeanor was detached, almost animalistic. He presented her with a rolled palm leaf, protected within a silk covering. Despite his repeated visits, there was no acknowledgment of her royal status, no gesture of respect, no formal greeting or farewell. He simply appeared and disappeared. Once he was gone, Parvata Vardini carefully unwrapped the leaf and read the stark message:

When promises are broken, the gods themselves should intervene to uphold them. Promises now seem to be fading away, while I see more and more eyes watching.
— Manju Natha

The weight of the message settled heavily within her. She clutched the palm leaf, its edges digging into her palm, let out a soft sigh. The deep ache became a relentless undercurrent to her simmering anger, a constant internal boil that persisted all day long.

That evening, beneath the full moon’s silver glow, she sat by the lone banyan on the bank of Manvi River. Her inner unrest mirrored the shimmering river, her temple worship complete. Seeking solace, she sent her grandchildren inside, finding a space for her turbulent thoughts beneath the ancient tree’s sprawling branches.

Unusually, Narobha approached her beneath the banyan tree. “I was looking for you,” he said, settling beside her. Receiving no response, he inquired, “Are we going to the temple today?”

She turned, her gaze piercing his. “What?” he asked, a flicker of unease in his eyes.

“You are aware of what happened to Pasupati. A full day has passed, and you haven’t seen fit to discuss it with me?”

As anticipated, his reply was immediate. “That’s precisely why I myself came searching for you!”

The deliberate emphasis he placed on ‘myself’ grated on Parvata Vardini’s already frayed nerves. She knew his words were hollow. He hadn’t sought her out of genuine concern. Now that she had spoken, he was attempting to feign worry. Such responses only deepened her weariness. They were the carefully crafted shields of someone seeking to end a conversation, yet they chipped away at the speaker’s integrity, revealing a self-serving nature.

Parvata Vardini replied, “Let’s dispense with the pretense. How long has it been since you’ve accompanied me for the full moon prayers? How long since you’ve had an open conversation with Pasupati? Yesterday was significant. The entire kingdom buzzes with outrage at the injustice he suffered. Do you finally feel a sliver of guilt and now attempt to mask it with a sudden desire to visit the temple and feign concern? Do you truly believe I still see you through a veil of such naiveté?”

“But… I was simply asking about the temple. You seem upset.”

“Enough. I have no desire for verbal games, nor will I prolong this charade. When do you intend to name him crown prince? This is typically done in their youth, yet he is now married with children. He has waited long enough. There is no purpose in this continued delay… and when do you plan to step down?”

“What has happened now? What is the urgency?”

“What more needs to happen? Jeyasinghan continues to humiliate Pasupati, and you do nothing to stop him. He and his mother stood at Pasupati’s very door, shouting their insults. You exert no control over them. Pasupati is the future king of this land. Such conflicts should be veiled, not displayed for the common eyes. Must I spell this all out for you?”

“Next king… Hmm… You see, it isn’t solely by birth. It’s about strength, intelligence, and the capacity to protect our people. We must determine who possesses these qualities before naming the crown prince.”

“What? Is there another contender for the crown in your mind?”

“I said we need to evaluate their abilities. This is about the well-being of our citizens, not merely our personal desires.”

“So, this has been your intention all along… And that’s why you’ve been delaying. Let me remind you of the promise you made when you married me. You pledged to make Pasupati the next king.”

That doesn’t mean my words are mutable. I will make a decision based on sound judgment and the counsel of the people’s representatives and my ministers.”

“Do not do this, Narobha.” Though Parvata Vardini’s voice remained level, it resonated with an unyielding resolve. And it had been decades since she had addressed him by his given name.

“Hmm… What did you say?” Narobha growled, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

“This land is Tungabhadra‘s legacy. It should rightfully pass to Pasupati. This was my condition, spoken to you and the elder Narayana Bhattar, before I consented to our marriage. I am the one who brought this kingdom to you, and you are merely a steward, holding it until my son reaches the age to claim his birthright. Now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, you’re attempting to renege on your promise.”

“Times are changing. Our challenges are evolving. Narayana Bhattar is no more. I am seeking a strong king for our throne. Jeyasinghan would be a suitable choice. He even bested Pasupati yesterday.”

“That was no true victory. He disregarded all rules, just as you are now twisting your words. Like father, like son. The crown is not a mere possession for you, to bestow as you please. A king needs the support of his people; they must accept him as their leader. No one in Taravati desires your concubine’s son. Lineage matters in a kingdom.” A loud sigh escaped her lips before she continued, “I believed I was your first wife, yet you concealed your village partner, intending to keep her as a concubine. And now you seek to break your solemn vow and alter the very succession?”

“Why are you so worried? You should be grateful that I spared your life and treated you with dignity after I killed your former husband, the king. Have I ever complained about being your second husband? I don’t mind enjoying salak, but not if someone else has tasted it first..” Narobha retorted, a mocking laugh escaping his lips.

Parvata Vardini rose abruptly, a chilling resolve hardening her gaze with bitterness. Narobha’s dismissive smile met her fury. With a swift turn, she retreated to her room in her palace, the air thick with unspoken intent.

“Stop at once!” Parvata Vardini commanded, her voice sharp with suspicion. “I know the fortune tellers of your land are skilled in reading minds. And you somehow glean information from within the palace walls, yet you attempt to deceive me.”

“…” Valli remained still, her eyes closed, a deliberate pause hanging in the air.

“This is a well-worn tactic,” Parvata Vardini continued, her tone accusatory. “You interrogate various individuals, piece together fragments, and weave a narrative to feign the ability to foresee the future. I have no intention of remaining here any longer.”

Before Parvata Vardini could rise, Valli, still with her eyes closed, made a subtle gesture with her hand, a silent plea to stop and sit. In that instant, Parvata Vardini understood her own sharp reaction. She had believed Valli had touched upon her deepest vulnerability, a raw nerve that had erupted in a surge of anger.

Valli continued, her voice calm and even, “Upon reaching your private chambers, the solitude pressed in on you, and thought about your children.. Unable to contain the storm within, you collapsed onto your bed, your composure shattering into wrenching sobs.”

Valli’s voice then shifted, taking on a tone of profound anguish, seemingly channeling Parvata Vardini’s inner lament. “Within your very soul, you cried out, ‘Ammaa… why did you bring me into this world? You stole my youth, you took my father, you shattered my joyous marriage, and then you cast me into this hell. Now you have further complicated my existence with children, with the tangled web of human relationships and their affections. And now, once again, you push me down into the mire… Show me some compassion. O, goddess of compassion, save me from this torment!'”

Valli’s rigid defiance sharpened as her eyes snapped wide, bulging unnervingly, their stark whiteness like bone, sent a shiver of terror through Parvata Vardini. “Isn’t that what you pleaded with me that night?” Valli’s voice resonated, an unnatural echo that seemed to emanate from the very timbers of the roof above.

Parvata Vardini’s hands instinctively clasped together, rising into a gesture of profound reverence and terror. “Oh my, Pramitye!” she gasped, the full name of the fierce goddess barely a whisper on her lips.

“Hmm,” Valli growled, a low, guttural sound akin to the menacing rumble of a furious wild boar defending its young. “Listen to me. Break free from the illusion of earthly joys and sorrows, of love and attachment. This existence has been forced upon you by your world. You bear no responsibility for the events of the past, nor for what is yet to come. How long can you stem the tide of blood when others relentlessly accumulate their transgressions, ah? My wrath, channeled through the cursed keris, thirsts. Do not be so foolish as to believe you can stop it.”

“Ammaahh… It will be…” Parvata Vardini stammered, her voice choked with dread.

“Yes,” Valli’s voice boomed, heavy with foreboding. “Painful! Inevitable. Yet, I won’t abandon you.” As if in response to this pronouncement, the clear night sky outside was suddenly rent by a violent flash of lightning, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. With a sudden, unnatural force, as if a ripe coconut had detached from its tree, Valli propelled herself from her seat, her body slamming against the wall of the room with a sickening thud.

Parvata Vardini’s hands trembled uncontrollably as she raised them higher in desperate worship towards Pramita Devi. Beads of cold sweat erupted across her brow, each drop a testament to the sheer terror that gripped her.

*** End of Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’ ***

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Note:

• This fiction is an influence of series of historical events.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.