Faded Jasmine

(This story has been translated to Tamil and published in Issue 60 of Kaalam Magazine. An ebook version of the issue is available for purchase here)

Sita took the basket of white jasmine buds from the attendant and went to the simple wooden chest that sat next to her balcony doors. With the basket balanced on her hip, she traced the peacock feather engraving on the chest’s lock before opening it. Bundles upon bundles of white thread were inside. Sitting on them all was a small wooden box. Sita selected a bundle of thread that was almost used up and went out to the balcony with her basket

She squinted from the brightness and blinked until her eyes adjusted. Sita spared her garden below a momentary glance before settling herself on her swing. Her basket of jasmine buds was placed in front of her with the thread. She sat sideways with her left leg bent and her right leg dangling to the ground. Her gold ankle bracelets chimed each time she pushed off the tile to gently rock herself. Sunlight struck the rubies set in her ankle bracelets and scattered onto the gray slate.

The attendant came out with a fan shaped like a banana leaf.

“The breeze is enough,” Sita said without looking up.

“Yes, Queen.” The attendant placed the fan down and stood to the side.

Sita pulled at the thread until she had a length she was satisfied with then looked around for a knife to cut it. She realized she had forgotten to get one from the wooden box, smiled to herself in recollection of a friend, and casually bit the thread off without a moment’s hesitation.

The attendant failed to contain her gasp. 

Sita took two jasmine buds, placed them stem to stem, and deftly tied them together before selecting two more buds. She tied those two in parallel to the first pair and said, “You are new.”

“Please forgive my outburst, Queen,” the attendant said to the floor, her face burning all the way to her ears.

“What outburst?” Sita smiled. She scarcely looked at the jasmine buds she was tying together, her slender fingers moving as though they had a mind of their own. Her rings flashed with every twist and pull. 

“Thank you, Queen.” The attendant had enough bravery to look up again. She looked at what Sita was doing and her eyes widened. She quickly remembered to hide her curiosity and looked at the floor again. 

“Your name?”

“Akansha, Queen.”

“Pretty.” Sita nodded. “Are you married?”

“Yes, Queen.”

“What does your husband do?”

“He is a groom, Queen. He tends to Prince Lakshman’s horses, Queen.”

“His name is Aksha?”

Akansha gasped. “Yes, Queen.”

Sita laughed. Those working in the garden below paused in order to listen to the sweet sound. 

“Are you wondering how I knew him?” Sita asked.

Akansha nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. 

“Prince Lakshman is very fond of his horses. He was despondent when his favorite groom left for a time to get married,” Sita said. “So it was you that caused my brother-in-law such grief.”

“Q-queen–”

“I am only teasing, Akansha. Be calm.” Sita’s eyes twinkled with amusement. She noted Akansha’s continued glances toward the jasmine buds she was tying together. “Are you wondering what I’m doing?”

Akansha nodded.

“Go and retrieve a knife for me and I will tell you their story. You will find one in the wooden box in my chest of thread.”

Akansha left and returned with the speed of monsoon winds.

It was some time before Sita began her story. She continued to grab two buds at a time and tie them. Grab. Tie. Grab. Tie. Mindlessly. Her fingers were her eyes and hands all at once.

Akansha wondered if it would be appropriate to prompt the queen. 

“When I was a captive in the tyrant rakshasa Ravana’s castle, I was kept in a garden. In that garden, flowers from all over the world bloomed no matter the season, no matter the weather, no matter if they were tended to or not…” Sita sighed.

Her grief from the time seemed to settle onto her shoulders. Her posture weakened and her jaw clenched. But her speed with the jasmine buds did not slow. Instead, her fingers quickened. She stared at her garden but in truth saw her old prison.

“It was like living in a painting,” Sita continued. “Beautiful at first but there is no real beauty in permanence. I could only weep looking at flowers that were reduced to their appearance and denied their right to birth and death. To change. It fed on my fear that I would never be rescued. That I would remain, stuck, in a painting meant to only satisfy the lustful gaze of Ravana. It did not matter that I did not yield to his advances. Even being leered at by him, being subject to the touch of his eyes on my skin…” Sita shook her head, disgust twisting her features. “I stopped walking in the garden and remained under the banyan tree at its center. At least there the shade would change with the passing of the sun.” Sita paused in her tale. “Some water, Akansha.”

Akansha did as she was bid.

Sita drank three glasses before continuing. “One of my rakshasi wardens, Trijata, had quickly become my friend. She noticed my depression and did not cease pestering me until I told her what was wrong. The next day she came to me with a basket of jasmine. Trijata told me that they were from outside the garden and so were not subject to the garden’s magic. She taught me how to thread them as you see me doing now, including how to bite the thread since I wasn’t allowed to have a knife. Then she tied the jasmine garland to my hair and placed my hair over my shoulder so I could look at the pearl colored buds. I watched over the course of the day as the jasmine buds faded. Their sweet scent turned cloying and I still could not bring myself to take them off. It was only when they withered and fell off on their own that I parted from their company. In those flowers I was taught a lesson in inevitable change. I would be able to leave, it was only a matter of time. I could still die, yes? I was from outside the garden. Change could come for me if my husband did not. Once a week, until King Rama rescued me, Trijata brought me jasmine. Once a week I made small garlands from them. Once a week I watched them die.” Sita finally faced Akansha, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I do not know of anything more beautiful.”

Akansha wept. “My queen, we in the palace – all of Ayodhya even – had no idea you suffered so…”

“I do not mind the rumors. They too shall pass,” Sita said, simply. She smiled at the attendant. The change in how Akansha addressed her – from ‘Queen’ to ‘my queen’ – did not go unnoticed by Sita. 

There was a knock at the door and Akansha jumped.

Sita wiped her tears. “Allow them in, Akansha.”

The attendant was accompanied by Prince Lakshman when she returned. He bowed his head in greeting and smiled at Sita. His smile did not reach his eyes.  “Good afternoon, sister. I apologize for disturbing you.”

“You are never a disturbance to me.” Sita stood and motioned for Akansha to fan the prince. “What is wrong, Lakshman? You normally go out riding after the king holds court.”

“It is the king that is causing my stress.” Lakshman sighed. His hair ruffled from the force of Akansha’s spirited fanning. “He lost his temper at least seven times while resolving disputes. All unnecessary bursts of anger.”

“Are you one to criticize a short temper?” Sita asked with a small smile.

He nodded. “It is a flaw that I was glad Rama did not share. But apparently he does.”

“What plagues my normally gentle husband?” Sita asked.

Lakshman hesitated. 

Sita heard everything she needed to hear in his held breath. She picked up two jasmine garlands that were each as long as her forearm. On passing Akansha, the queen gave her one. “Go to Aksha and have him tie this in your hair.”

Akansha’s eyes widened. “My queen, I can’t disturb him while he works…”

“Prince Lakshman will not mind it,” Sita said, side-eyeing the prince.

He grimaced but nodded. “Five minutes won’t do any harm.”

“See?” Sita pressed the garland into Akansha’s trembling hands. “Aksha will cherish the opportunity to stand close to you. Newlyweds should preserve such moments in their memories.” She closed Akansha’s fingers over the jasmine. “And you, Akansha, do not over mourn the buds that will fall.”

Akansha bowed. “Yes, my queen.”

“Return to my quarters afterward and wait. I will teach you how to make your own.”

“Yes, my queen.”

Sita left with Lakshman and they walked through the palace halls.

“Seeing you will calm him, sister,” Lakshman said.

“Does Urmila do the same for you?” Sita asked. “Shall I have her always be within your sight?”

Lakshman blushed. “I am glad you are in good humor today.”

Sita smiled. “Who said I was joking, Lakshman?” 

“Then I will work on myself,” Lakshman said. “It would not do for Urmila to spend all her time worrying after me.”

“Too late for that,” Sita said as they arrived at Rama’s room. “Leave us. I will speak to my husband alone.”

Lakshman bowed his head and motioned at the saluting guards to open the double doors.

Rama was sitting on his balcony’s wide railing and leaning against the wall while staring off into the sky. Sunlight glazed over him and gave his dark skin a deep glow. An attendant was fanning him while another waited to the side with a plate of fruit.

“Taken with melodrama, husband?” Sita remarked.

Rama sighed heavily before grinning. He dismissed the attendants.

They bowed and left at a hurried, but measured, pace.

Rama entered his room and took his wife’s cheeks into his hands. He kissed her forehead and kept her close. “How do you like your new attendant?”

“Was she your doing?”

“Yes. Her husband came to me and Lakshman asking for a job on her behalf. I thought you would like her.”

“She is cute. Reminds me of when I first arrived here. Lost and unsure.”

“Love, you were many things when we first got married,” Rama said. “Unsure of yourself was not one of them.”

“I suppose.” Sita shrugged and took him by hand to the bed. They sat on it and she kept his hand on her lap, tracing his palm lines and his veins. “Lakshman tells me you lost your temper in court today. Seven times.”

“He must have lost count.”

“What is bothering you? Our kingdom is flourishing even more than it did under your father. There is no threat of war. No hunger.”

“Rumors spread like a plague,” Rama spat. His lips were stretched in a snarl. “At first it was just among the commoners. But they’ve reached the palace.”

Sita shut her eyes but did not stop stroking Rama’s arm. So strong it was, able to string celestial bows and slay ten-headed tyrants and carry fallen allies.

Still so powerless.

“Do the rumors concern my faithfulness to you, my love?”

“Yes,” Rama said. The muscles of his jaw bunched and writhed.

Sita shuddered and tears escaped past her shut eyes. “Do you still trust me?”

“Sita, you are asking me if I still breathe,” Rama said. “I have never stopped trusting you. I do not care that you spent a year in Ravana’s palace. You say that you never allowed him to touch you and that is all I need.” His face softened as he looked at her and he brushed her tears away. “You don’t even have to assure me with words. I know my wife.”

“Then why this anger?” Sita asked. “Can’t you just ignore what they say? People will talk. No matter what. It is what we do.”

“If the whispers and sneers were based in truth, perhaps I could bear them.” Rama surged to his feet from a burst of anger. “People said my father was too proud of his sons. They were right. My father indulged in pride. People say my brother would become angry at an infant if it cried too loudly for milk. That exceeds hyperbole but Lakshman is an angry man. Especially when it comes to protecting his family.” Rama scoffed. “He came to you worried that I lost my temper in court? No mention of what he did yesterday, then. There are two former advisors in Ayodhya now without tongues because Lakshman cut them off.”

“What did they say?”

“I don’t know. It is probably best for their lives that I don’t.”

Sita felt touched that Lakshman treasured her honor but she was annoyed that he had taken it so far. She glared at Rama. “You will sink to mutilation or murder to silence people?”

“Sita–”

“I did not know I married a tyrant!” Sita exclaimed, standing up. She was an inch from her husband, staring him down until he looked away. Her voice shook as she spoke. “Touch even a single hair on someone for doubting my loyalty and I will be your wife in name only.”

Still looking away, Rama rasped, “Should falsehoods be shared about me, would you control yourself, Sita?”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“I lack your power.”

Rama scoffed. “You lack my power but you have power of your own. I fear for the fate of anyone that awakens you to anger.”

Sita nodded begrudgingly and her glare disappeared. 

Rama walked to a cabinet and took out a small copper tin. He opened the tin as he returned, revealing the sindoor inside it. Rama took a pinch of the red powder and applied it on her forehead to fix the sindoor he had marred when he kissed her forehead. He covered her eyes with a hand and gently blew to scatter any particles that had not stuck to her.

Rama set the tin aside and said, “Let people say you are too friendly with your attendants. Let people say you joke when you should not. Let people say you get lost in your grief and forget to pay attention to what is around you. Those barbs lack poison. This, however…” Rama shook his head. “I will be angry, Sita. I will be blind to every tongue Lakshman cuts. I will even hand him the knife to do it.”

“You will find yourself the king of a silent kingdom.”

“So be it.”

“No.” Sita shook her head. His three words, delivered with the weight of a vow, spawned a horrific scene in her mind: Thousands upon thousands of wailing people on their knees choking on their blood as it gushed down the sides of their mouths. “I will do something to stop the rumors.”

“What?”

“Our marriage, like all others, was conducted with the God of Fire, Agni, as a witness,” Sita said. “If I have allowed another to touch me, then He will burn me to ashes.”

Rama’s eyes furrowed. “You will jump into a fire?”

“No. Not just any fire…” Sita nodded to herself as her plan rapidly formed. “One week from today, I will have one woman from every household in Ayodhya come to the courtyard outside the palace temple. All men will be barred from entering.” She looked at Rama. “Except you. You must be there. Are you comfortable being in a mob of women?”

“I’ll be at your side not in the mob.”

“Still.”

“You will be there. What is there to be discomforted by?” Rama smiled. “Before you enact this impulsive plan of yours, can you tell me more details? I will do what I can to help.”

Sita was lost in her thoughts for a few more seconds before she could gather them enough to tell Rama. He agreed without hesitation. When Sita stood to get started on the plans, Rama got in her way.

“What?” Sita asked, impatiently. “I will return to you tonight. Can’t you wait?”

Rama pointed at the garland of jasmine buds she had been holding this whole time. “So you will tie that yourself?”

Sita scowled. “I could.”

Rama moved out of her way and bowed at the waist. “Then by all means, my queen.”

Sita huffed and handed Rama the garland. She turned her back to him and smiled as Rama began tying the flowers to her hair.

“The only good thing you brought from Lankai,” Rama murmured into her hair before kissing it.

It was some time before Sita could bring herself to leave his warm embrace.

Akansha and Sita’s other attendants were tasked with going to every house in the city and requesting them to send one woman, as a representative, to the palace temple in a week. Rama left his three brothers to take care of his duties so that he could prepare the temple courtyard himself. He cleared away the bushes that bordered pathways so that there would be space for the attending women. He rolled out luscious rugs so that their feet would be comfortable as they stood. At the head of the courtyard, in front of the temple doors, Rama laid down wood for a large fire. Each length of wood was as tall as Rama. He formed a square with the wood then made another square on top of it. Rama did this until the stack came to his waist, then began filling the empty center with smaller logs. When he was done, the stack resembled the small ones that housed Agni during weddings. Finally, he used the remaining wood to build a set of steps leading up to the top of the stack.

All the palace occupants, even Lakshman, thought Rama had gone mad. Any questions were only answered with a smile and a request that they be patient.

As commanded, one woman from every household arrived at the palace temple. Sita requested that her attendants organize the women regardless of wealth or nobility, allowing only the infirm to be given spots at the front with cushions. The courtyard’s three entrances were shut once the last woman arrived. Rama’s three brothers guarded them from the outside. Rama himself stood in front of the shut temple doors, listening to the confused and curious muttering of the crowd.

“What’s this all about?”

“The king has gone mad, I tell you.”

“The queen too! Must be what she went through…”

Rama’s eyes darted over the crowd in search of the woman that had just spoken. He couldn’t place her. Rama frowned and told himself to be calm. 

Akansha knocked from inside the temple. Rama opened the door an inch. 

“King Rama,” Akansha murmured. “Queen Sita is ready.”

Rama nodded and swung the temple doors wide open. Akansha rushed out with a pail in each hand and began pouring the contents of the pails onto the stack of wood.

“It’s oil!” people exclaimed upon smelling it. “They’re making a fire!”

Sita exited the temple and ascended the steps that Rama had built.

She was wearing the orange ascetic robes she had worn while in exile with Rama. Ravana had gifted her with hundreds of gorgeous sarees but she had kept her robes, not giving the sarees even a glance. Any jewelry he gave her to win her favor was treated similarly.

Sita wore only three adornments now: the first thaali that Rama had tied on her at their wedding, sindoor on her forehead that Rama had placed on her that morning, and a small garland of jasmine that she had made the night before. It was withering.

Sita’s face was as clear and placid as the blue skies. 

“Women of Ayodhya,” Sita began. “There is not a single person among you that has not heard the rumors concerning my time as a prisoner of the rakshasa Ravana. I do not doubt that some of you have started some of your own.” Her eyes passed over the women. Her gaze lasted longer on the women that avoided her. “If, by some miracle, you do not know what I am talking about, I will tell you. During my exile with King Rama and Prince Lakshman, a rakshasa named Ravana desired me. He kidnapped me in secret and imprisoned me in his palace. In the time that it took for my husband to find me, Ravana was incessant in his demand that I become his. I did not yield to his gifts or his threats. I bore his vile words and his lecherous eyes for an eternity. Eyes that each of you have seen. Not from a rakshasa. But from human men. Do I lie? Speak now.”

Silence.

“Torturous as it was, I endured. I always said no. Do not mistake Ravana’s requests for my consent as him being a gentleman. The only reason he did not touch me was because he was cursed to die if he touched a woman without her consent,” Sita said. “I managed. I trusted my husband to rescue me and he did. Ravana was killed for his crime and we returned to Ayodhya. I was hopeful for peace. Being a prisoner and fearing for my life on a daily basis wounded me – changed me – in ways that none of you will ever see. But I had hope in coming home.” Sita smiled wryly. “What a fool I was. My husband did not change. Nor did the rest of my family. They love me now as they did before. But Ayodhya? I lost your trust due to no crime of my own. I can stomach men being distrustful and misunderstanding but all of you? My sisters? We all know beauty, age, or consent have nothing to do with it. Men embroiled with lust will do their utmost to take.”

Rama noticed a woman near the front, bent forward with age, adjusting her saree and gripping it tightly. 

“I don’t care that none of you trust me! So what if all of you suspect me of infidelity?!” Sita shouted. The crowd flinched as one. “I don’t care that you have betrayed me and joined the men in making assumptions. However, my family is hurt by your rumors. What I do today is to protect all of you from them lashing out in pain more than they already have.”

Sita nodded at Rama and he approached the stack from its right with a lit torch. 

“I have asked all of you to come here so that you may be witnesses.” Sita signaled Rama with her hand and he tossed the torch onto the stack of wood. It went up in flames rapidly and Sita spoke over the fire’s roar. “I will enter these flames. If I betrayed my husband, may I be burnt to ash. If my loyalty is infallible, may the robes I am wearing – and only them – be burned. Ravana’s hands were on them as he bore me to Lankai and I longed to see them destroyed.”

Sita jumped in amidst screams. Many began praying mindlessly, others directing their thoughts directly to Agni and begging Him to spare her even if she had betrayed their king. Women of higher castes approached the king directly and asked him to jump into the fire and rescue Sita. He was the incarnation of Lord Vishnu. Even Agni could not touch him.

“I know Sita is fine,” Rama replied, his attention remaining on the fire. The fire rose up past the walls as a pillar of flame. Its orange tongues lashed the air and drank its moisture. Unable to withstand the heat, everyone but Rama and Akansha retreated as far as they could from the fire. Akansha shook in fear as the sweat on her body evaporated as quickly as it formed but she remained at her spot on the stack’s left. 

As suddenly as the flames exploded with heat and power, they disappeared.

Sita remained in the middle of a pile of ash. Only her robes had been destroyed.

Akansha cried out in relief.

Rama took a step to cover Sita’s naked body but she stopped him with a smile. 

Sita walked out of the ash. She combed her hair with her fingers and brought it forward over her shoulder.

Even the withering garland was fine. 

Akansha arrived with a saree and the queen dressed herself without acknowledging the stunned crowd. Not a word. Not a glance.

Once the queen was decent, Akansha rang the bell she had been given to signal the doors open.

“You have your proof now,” Sita said finally. “Take your new story and leave.”

The women left with the silence they had been struck with.

“My queen, is that all you wanted to say to them?” Akansha asked.

“What else is there to say?” Sita replied. “Now come. I told you I would teach you how to make a garland out of jasmine and I still have not done so.”