The Rebellious Streak
Chamundeswari lay back in her bed, her face swollen with tears. Her hand lying on the one-year-old tiger, the princess tried to draw strength from her little companion. Today was her birthday. At five, the princess of Kongunadu missed her parents more than ever.
But the worst part was that her Chinnamma’s brother, Maama Marthanda Bhupathi, had slapped her on her cheek that very day. It was because she had insisted that Manu should remain with her during lunch. And why not? It was her birthday, was it not? Why could she not share it with the tiger she loved?
She was not to know that Marthanda Bhupathi was petrified of Manu, who had still not grown to be his full size. But even partially grown to half his size, the tiger was capable of striking terror in even a brave warrior’s heart. As for the chief minister, while Bhupathi was renowned for his cunning, courage was definitely not one of his strengths.
“Chamundeswari! Take your tiger out of the dining hall, right now!” ordered Bhupathi when he saw Manu prowling into the room behind his little mistress. Naganandini had told him that morning that it was the princess’s birthday. But the information simply flew out of his mind as abject fear struck in his heart at the sight of the tiger.
“But, Maama! It is my birthday today. Chinnamma told me that I could bring Manu here to have lunch with me.” The princess turned her appealing golden gaze to her stepmother.
Before Naganandini could open her mouth to say anything, Bhupathi shouted at the top of his voice. “Either the tiger remains here for lunch or I will. Take a choice!” Sparks of fury seemed to fly out of his dark eyes as he glared at his sister. He was too scared to look in the direction of Chamundeswari and her pet.
Naganandini looked at her stepdaughter, compassion in her gaze as she studied the drooping little shoulders. But she was not ready to bear the brunt of her brother’s displeasure. “Chamundi! Can you not see that Maama does not like to sit at the dining table with Manu? Why do you not send him back to your room? He can join us for dinner instead.”
Chamundeswari was extremely upset and angry with Bhupathi for spoiling her birthday lunch she had so been looking forward to. She looked on in frustration when Selvan stepped forward to take Manu’s leash in his hand and took the protesting tiger away from his mistress.
“It is my birthday, Maama! And you are spoiling it. Why do you not go away and allow Manu to stay with me? I want my tiger here with me today. Not you, Maama.” If Bhupathi could yell so loudly in her home, so could she, right? And that is exactly what Chamundeswari did.
But what happened next was something the little girl had not foreseen. Having remained an only child of an adoring mother, and a princess at that, Chamundeswari did not know the meaning of physical violence. She was totally rattled when her cheek stung the next minute with the resounding slap that Marthanda Bhupathi dealt her. “Listen! You might be the princess of Kongunadu. But you are alive only because I choose to let you live, do you hear?” he snarled, bending down to glower at her little face.
“Marthanda!” Naganandini came rushing forward, gathering the princess in her arms. “How could you?”
“I am leaving. You can shove the lunch down your darling stepdaughter’s throat for all I care.” Making an about turn, Marthanda Bhupathi left the dining hall to cross the throne room and walked out of the palace.
Chamundeswari was not to know that the brother and sister were only playing their roles according to a prior plan. Naganandini was to play the part of the good one if ever Bhupathi lost his temper with the princess and they would interchange their roles if and when necessary.
It was not her stepmother’s love that was keeping Naganandini at her stepdaughter’s side. She was only sticking to their plan and pretending to be a good mother to the young princess. That a negligible quantity of pity or compassion oozed out of her stony heart at times of their own volition was something Naganandini chose to ignore.
The princess held her burning cheek, her body stiff in the queen’s arms. But she refused to cry even as she felt a burning sensation in her throat. No! Chamundeswari was clear that she had to remain strong and not break down; at least not in front of her stepmother or her brother.
Even at the tender age of five, Chamundeswari could sense that they did not love her. It was probably clearer to her because of the innocent child that she was. It was much later, after lunch—Manu was brought back to the dining table, thanks to Naganandini—that the princess returned to her room and let go of the rigid control she had held over her emotion and she cried her little heart out.
She forgot the time as it passed, hugging her tiger and shedding bitter tears. When Anagha walked into the princess’s chamber just before dinner, she was shocked to see the state Chamundeswari was in. On her birthday too!
“Is everything alright, My Lady?” asked Anagha, bringing over a damp cloth to wipe the little girl’s cheeks, her heart going out to her.
“I hate them both; my Chinnamma and Maama. I want to go to your house. Will you take me, Anagha?” asked the princess pathetically, even as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh dear! But My Lady, you are the princess of Kongunadu. Your place is here in the palace with the Queen. It is not practical for you to live with Vishnu and me in our hut.”
“Why?” asked Chamundeswari, getting up to sit on her bed as she glared at the maid.
“Because… because…”
“That is because, my dear princess, a grand little girl like you needs to live in a grand palace. Am I correct?” Vishnurayan walked into the chamber. It was his guard duty that night and he had come in to wish the princess a happy birthday. His heart almost broke at the sight of the tear-stricken little face.
“You think so?” asked Chamundeswari, staring up at him.
“Yes, My Lady! And think of Manu. He is used to living here with you. Is it fair if you move him to a little hut? Do you not think he will be unhappy there?”
Chamundeswari turned her gaze to her tiger who was lying on the bed next to her, a small smile breaking out on her face. “You are right, Vishnu. Manu likes it here in the palace, especially running around the gardens.”
“Exactly, My Lady! Now come on, cheer up. It is your birthday and I am sure the Queen has organised a wonderful dinner in your honour.” Turning to his wife, he said, “Anagha, get the princess ready soon. Does she have a new skirt and blouse to wear?”
“Yes!” Chamundeswari’s voice was excited now as she jumped off her bed to rush to her wardrobe. “Chinnamma had five new silk skirts made for me, with matching blouses. Anagha, I want to wear the red one.” She jumped from one foot to the other, forgetting her earlier unhappiness.
With a huge sigh of relief, Vishnurayan left the princess’s chamber to stand outside, taking up his position as guard. He had been totally rattled when he heard from the other servants that the chief minister had slapped the princess. That is when he swore to himself that he was going to train the princess in all kinds of warfare. After all, how else was she going to defend herself?
Vishnurayan and Anagha had the run of the palace being the trusted servants they were. Also, he made it a point to treat the queen, her brother and the Senapati with extreme respect, even to the point of prostrating at their feet when needed, just so as to remain in their good books. He had to make sure that he and his wife were always permitted to spend time with the princess.
Queen Naganandini was not really cut out to be a mother figure and was only too happy for Anagha to manage Princess Chamundeswari. Hence, no one questioned what happened when the princess spent so much time with the loyal servants.
Chamundeswari’s training began the very next day. Vishnurayan began training her to ride a pony and to shoot arrows. He made a bow and a batch of arrows to suit her small build with his own hands. He took her out hunting and was relentless until she mastered the art.
As for the princess, she was glad to find a definite purpose in her life. And she enjoyed using her hands to defend herself. As the days moved into weeks, months and years, Chamundeswari knew how to use a sword, a dagger and a spear; not just to hunt but to even maim or kill her enemies.
She also learned to wrestle. For that, Vishnurayan invited a couple of women wrestlers from Thanjavur and made them train the princess. They needed a private area for their activities. What better place than the Pachamalai Forest? Using a few loyal men from Kongunadu, the servant had a structure built a few miles into the forest. It was well hidden by thick foliage and even thicker trees. As it was used only during day time, they did not bother to light lamps or torches in the place, ensuring that it was as difficult to be sighted by anybody stepping into the forest as was possible.
While rebellion burned as much as hatred for her two living relatives in the princess’s heart; she learned to curb it deep within, never showing it in word or action. That was the first lesson Vishnurayan taught her.
“Do not show your weakness, dear princess. Not to your enemies, especially.”
“But my hatred for them is not a weakness,” protested the eleven-year-old Chamundeswari, her eyes flashing.
Vishnurayan smiled gently. “It is your strength. But when exposed, it also becomes your weakness as you will become a target. Keep your head low and your temper curbed, My Lady! You should appear so docile that they never perceive you as a threat to them. Do you understand what I am saying?” he asked, looking deeply into her eyes as if willing her to grasp the exact meaning. After all, did he and Anagha not live that way? They had buried all the horror and subsequent anger deep in their hearts, at the way the king and queen had been murdered mercilessly, along with a number of loyal ministers, nobles and servants; leaving Princess Chamundeswari an orphan at barely four years of age.
Every time the little princess raised her voice in protest, Marthanda Bhupathi lifted his hand, physically hurting her. And there was no one to take the princess’s side; at least no one powerful enough. While Queen Naganandini pretended to be affectionate, it was too obvious, even to her stepdaughter, that the woman was only paying lip service.
It was only last week when both Chamundeswari and Manu had raced around the throne room. For all her faults, Naganandini did not mind the tiger’s presence, fully aware that Manu was anything but a maneater. And she did not really care if her stepdaughter played with her pet right inside the palace, as long as they did not trouble her.
But Marthanda Bhupathi was not just afraid of the tiger, but felt threatened each time his gaze fell on the princess. After all, was it not she who had escaped from his master plan? Had escaped from dying in the palace fire? He could not help but hate the living princess who was the one who stood between him and the Kongunadu throne. As far as the chief minister was concerned, he had allowed his sister to sit on the throne only because she let him run the kingdom. She was but a puppet in her brother’s hands. But Princess Chamundeswari was another matter altogether. Eleven years old now, she would become eligible to be crowned the queen in another six years; lesser, in fact. He could not come up with a single scheme to do away with her while his loathing for the princess festered within him, poisoning his whole system.
That particular day, when Chamundeswari and Manu were playing in the throne room with Naganandini for company, Bhupathi simply went mad with rage. How dare the young girl play with her tiger right in the middle of the palace? He went to the kitchen and taking an iron rod, placed it in the wood fire over which the rice was cooking. He pulled it out when the furthest end was red hot, holding it with the help of a heavy cotton cloth. Walking into the throne room, he shouted for, “Chamundeswari!”
The young princess came rushing before halting in front of the chief minister. “Maama!” The next moment she screamed loudly. “Maamaaaaa!!!” Her hands were clutched to her thigh even as the red-hot iron rod fell down with a clatter from Bhupathi’s hand after branding Chamundeswari for life.
The smell of burning flesh permeated the air even as Manu rushed to his mistress’s side. But the princess had fallen down in a faint even before her pet reached her.
The palace vaithiyar was called for. While he and his assistant attended to the princess’s wound in her chamber, the queen glowered at her brother. “Your temper is going to be your downfall, Marthanda. How could you do that to the young girl?” she scolded.
Bhupathi lifted a hand to stop his sister from speaking further. “She has been begging for it, Naga. I have told her so many times not to bring that tiger in here. Does she listen? Can the two of them not play out in the garden?” he snarled.
“But it is afternoon and it is so hot outside. If I do not mind them playing here, why should you?”
Naganandini’s logic only made Marthanda Bhupathi angrier than ever, even as his resentment towards the princess increased day by day.
Anagha was horrified to see the state young Chamundeswari was in. Her silk skirt had also burned and the material was stuck to her wound. It was a task separating it from her damaged skin. The vaithiyar had brought along a woman to assistant him as the princess was not a child any more. Between the assistant and Anagha, it took them a really long time to clean the wound and apply the cooling herbal paste to it. The rod had burnt Chamundeswari from the middle of her right thigh to an inch short of her knee.
The maidservant could not help but shed tears as the terrible sight. It was going to leave a mark for sure.
Chamundeswari came back to the present, turning to the silent listener at her side…
“From that day onwards, Vishnu gave me strict warning never to argue with either the queen or her brother or disobey them under any circumstance. So, I, who wanted to rebel every minute of my life here, became so meek that it is a wonder that I even recognise myself.” A bitter smile slanted her mouth upwards as she came to the end of the story.
Adityan stared at her with an adoring expression in his eyes; amazed at what all Chamundeswari had undergone in her young life. Despite being the princess of the land, she had been treated worse than a slave. But in spite of all that, she had grown up to become not just beautiful, but courageous too. And the rebel streak was very much present, like a light hidden under a bushel. And he could not help but admire her for that.
“My princess!” He reached to pull her up from the tree stump she had been sitting on before gathering her in his arms. “I want to make your life easy from this moment onwards. How can I help you? Command me!” he whispered passionately in her ear.
“Marry me! Today! I want you at my side as my prince. Between the two of us, we can vanquish all my enemies.”
He stepped back, letting go of her before he went down on his knees in front of the princess. “Your wish is my command, my princess! So be it!”
