A Suitor for the Princess - Chapter 11

       She hastily locked the door behind her, lest her ‘enemies’ follow her outside and started walking down her favorite path to the woods.  It was a particularly chilly evening and she shivered as the draught hit her from all sides.  A howling wind roared in her delicate ears, sweeping down from the moors surrounding her cottage and she had to literally clamp her ears with her hands to prevent her teeth from chattering.  But she walked on, determined to finish her long walk to and from the woods.

        Not a single soul was around and she almost wished for a good companion.  She felt that if she talked in general with somebody, she’d feel a whole lot better.  She desperately wanted to escape Regina and its shrine, not to forget Sara and Juan.  But if wishes were horses…..

        Wherever she looked, at the lush green hills, the wild flowers, the trees, the grey clouds-----she saw the one-eyed yet handsome, Juan and the sorrowful, yet beautiful Sara.  Whatever had happened to her resolve to keep her protagonists as beautiful as ever?  Now they were beautiful but not happy and happiness was essential for ‘real’ beauty.  Beauty was incomplete and hollow without inner happiness.  She knew that both were anguished souls hence lacked smiles and good cheer.  And she was the one who was responsible for their misery. 

        She felt wretched, guilty and ashamed.  Her walk lost its spring and zest.  She dragged her feet like a soldier who was wounded in battle.  She felt tired and lonely.  She wanted to express her own fears and feelings to someone compassionate and wise.  She wanted to be reassured that all was well with the world and that this terrible feeling of desolation, frustration and misery would soon vanish!

        She felt the dry leaves crackling behind her.  She stiffened.  She was being followed.  She halted in her tracks and strained her ears, listening for the sounds of footsteps.  Suddenly she whirled and found herself face to face with her Editor, Norman Keeling.  “Hello Martha!  Nice to see you!  Where’ve you been all these days?  It’s been a whole week!”

        Martha had seen the one-eyed Juan, not her Editor and was clawing at his face like one possessed.  Norman was a huge man.  He caught both her flailing wrists with one huge palm in a vice-like grip and slapped her right across her smooth, rosy cheek; leaving a large red imprint of his palm on her face and her face stinging with hot tears which rushed down to cover and smother that imprint. 

        He couldn’t believe his eyes.  Was she the demure and delicate lady whom he so admired and liked?  What had just overcome her to behave so strangely?  He quietly led her to a wayside cement bench and made her sit down.  He surveyed her carefully and compassionately.  She was shivering and crying, saying incoherent words that were tumbling relentlessly from her beautiful mouth.  He could mainly make out the words Juan and Sara.  She was also shielding her face as if protecting herself from invisible attackers.

        Norman sat beside her and put his huge arm around her shoulder.  He pressed it slightly and rocked her.  Gently he said, after her wracking sobs subsided, “What is it dear Martha?  Why are you so terribly unhappy?  Please tell me so that I can help you!”

        With tear-filled eyes that looked like mini oceans to Norman, Martha briefed him about her latest story and the turmoil that it had brought into her ordered life.

        Norman’s first impulse was to burst into loud laughter.  He found her narration and its impact on her, incredibly silly!  Women! He muttered under his breath.  Then, feeling her eyes upon his, waiting for a reaction, he said soberly, “Why don’t you just forget about the story and take a break for a few days?  I’m sure that it’ll do you a whole lot of good.  Come to think of it, I’ll be visiting Shanghai for a writers’ conference the day after tomorrow.  Would you like to come with me?  I can arrange for a pass for you.  After all, you’re such a good writer.  In fact, I just came to ask you whether you’d be interested in making this trip.”

        Martha glanced into his intense gaze and found that she relaxing.  This was just what she needed the most, right then.  Norman and his request were Manna from Heaven!  She threw both her hands around his huge frame, hugged him close and whispered “Yes, I’d be pleased to!”  Then when she looked up at him, she found him staring at her intensely with a single baleful eye. 

         A shriek escaped her throat and she swooned in Norman’s embrace.  When she came to, she was surprised to find herself in Norman’s bedroom, propped up comfortably on silk cushions with a fire merrily blazing away in the fire-place.  The room was cozy and quiet.  Just then, Norman walked in, holding a tray that smelled of delicious food and fresh pink roses tied with a white satin ribbon.

        “Well, it’s good to see that you have arisen.  I was beginning to wonder whether I’d have to kiss you and wake you up like the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Princess!”  Martha blushed deeply and held her breath.  She suddenly wanted him to do just that!  She averted her gaze and glanced at the goodies on the tray, to hide her thoughts.  She saw some sandwiches, eggs, toast, butter and jam, salad and a pot of steaming tea.  She felt ravenous.  She wanted to eat and she wanted to make love! 

        “So are you ready to tuck into your meal, Princess?”  She blushed furiously, anxious to hide her feelings from Norman.  Just what would he think about her amorous feelings?  He was very astute!

        She hated herself when she heard how coy her voice sounded as she said, “Yes, thank you!” He knew that his eyes followed all her moves as she buttered a piece of toast and chewed silently, staring fixedly at the tea-pot.

        To Norman she looked like an adolescent school-girl, having her meal.  She looked irresistibly lovely and fresh.  He had to kiss her, right then….

To be continued.... 

The copyright of this novel is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.

A Suitor for the Princess - Chapter 10

        Juan wore the plain white garb of the seers.  He was carrying the bowl for alms in his right hand and a staff in his other.  He was shaved bald and was clean-shaven.  His jaw, chin and scalp appeared green due to the close shave.  His appearance was composed and his demeanor calm, but his single eye held a storm of torment.  It was evident that he was going through a great inner turmoil. 

        His eye was as dark as the stormy sea whose huge waves rolled back and forth ceaselessly.  Only, these waves were those of deep anguish.  On the crest of each wave, Sara, the beautiful Sara came riding proudly, inviting him into her warm embrace and when the waves receded, all that was left, were her sweet memories and the unshakeable feeling of being lost without her love.  He could feel her love, but was helpless.  Totally helpless!

        He felt like drowning in the real waves of the sea or jumping headlong from the precipice of the shrine.  But no, life was as ruthless as ever!  He couldn’t dare be a coward, even in the deepest of his thoughts.  His mother had taught him to be brave and face the stormiest tempest with fortitude.  Besides, would even the fair Princess Sara like the thought of being loved by a coward, a loser?

        Destiny had ordained that he become a celibate seer in the prime of his youth.  If this wasn’t cruelty, what was? 

        When Juan tried telling his fellow disciples about his true feelings, they just pursed their lips even tighter and raised a stern finger to their lips to silence him or covered their ears to abstain from hearing about ‘sin’.  Most of them just politely or rudely moved out of earshot, leaving him to stew in his private hell.  He was friendless and felt lonely and frustrated.  Being a devout Christian, the monotonous religious texts of that cult, failed to enthuse him.  He fervently prayed to Lord Jesus to rescue him and put him on the path of salvation.  On some days, he even regretted volunteering for the task set by the king.  Then at once, he’d rebuke himself and remind himself of that beautiful Princess who was probably still waiting to garland him and make him hers!  Poor lady!  What was her destiny, he wondered.  It would definitely be worse than his, if she was forced to marry another suitor, against her wishes.  Juan had convinced himself that she loved him as deeply as he loved her!  Then he started thinking about ways of escaping from that shrine which had literally imprisoned him. 

        He wandered about the huge precincts.  The red soil, the huge trees covered with fruits and flowers of all colors, shapes and sizes, the sparkling water from the spring, the silent and devout seers walking about, nay, gliding like ghouls and the fragrance of incense and thyme; failed to lift his spirits.  He longed to speak to someone.  He was fed up of the silence that seemed to strangle him all the while.  He longed for a friend or at least some well-wisher whom he could trust. 

        In the rare moments when he felt peaceful, he’d wonder how he’d spend his life-time over there and whether gradually he’d reconcile himself to being a staunch follower of that strict Order.  He was eager to learn from the experience of all those who had unwittingly strayed into the shrine.  Had they really forgotten all about their lives back on earth, outside that shrine, or were they equally tormented?

                                                            ************

        Suddenly Martha woke up, feeling very energetic and enthusiastic.  Her story was now treading the dangerous and tricky path of religion and societal mores.  How and why had she even conceived the thought of setting the ‘task’ in a Christian Kingdom and a forbidden cult’s shrine?  Would she be sued for blasphemy?  Then again, why would a devout Christian King ask the suitor for his only daughter to climb a mountain on which a shrine was located, knowing fully well, about the implications, if by chance, the suitor would unwittingly walk into that shrine?  Then she relaxed thinking that either the King was truly secular or was genuinely confident about that suitor’s success.  If that lad did complete his task, he wouldn’t have to ever set foot on that hallowed shrine’s compound, would he? 

        Now Martha was very excited.  She wanted to follow her existing storyline and challenge the set ways of the ‘normal’ world.  If the lad would finish his task and marry the Princess, her story would just be another fairy tale with a happy ending.  How would it be a path-breaking story?  She was glad to be on to something that was off the beaten track!  Her editor would definitely pat her back!

        She quickly wrote down all that had just occurred in her vivid dream.  Then she saw Sara’s tormented eyes looking straight at her from a blank page which she had just turned over.  “You are a very mean and despicable woman!” they seemed to say.  First you made me fall deeply in love with the most wonderful guy in this Kingdom, then blinded him, imprisoned him in the shrine and separated us forever.  You’ll also die a painful death!  Mark my words!

        Martha shivered uncontrollably as fear shook the very core of her being.  Were the characters in her story getting out of hand?  She had to control them, somehow, anyhow, before it was too late. Too late?  For what?  She didn’t know, but she did feel as though her very existence was threatened by the violence in the minds of her characters that plunged like poisoned darts into her hitherto strong heart.  ‘She’ had become the villain (or vamp) of the story.  Rightly so, she mused, for was not she responsible for the fairy tale going awry, so quickly and beginning to end, even before the middle? 

        She and only she, was responsible for the messy state of affairs in the Kingdom of Regina and the personal lives of the hero and the heroine who so desperately, had prayed and even begged her for a truly divine, fairy-tale ending!  Martha felt as if she was going slightly crazy.  She was still not that old to go ‘dotty’.  But she knew instinctively that if this state of affairs continued, with her being constantly harangued by her tale's protagonists, she’d end up in an asylum.

        She had once visited an asylum for the mentally challenged and been shocked at the plight of its inmates.  She was researching for a short story.  She wondered about how she had then resolved to never visit it again, even by chance.  But now, those chances were very bright!  She shuddered again.  She put away the pages, turned off the table-lamp and put on her tweed jacket and hat.  She needed a brisk walk to clear her muddled head.  

To be continued.... 

The copyright of this novel is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.

A Suitor for the Princess - Chapter 9

She would often look longingly at the purple, organdy dress that had been specially tailored for her D-day, the day when she’d greet her suitor with a garland of fragrant roses. She had already decided that she’d softly express her deep love for him at that very moment! Now she agonized over whether she’d ever greet any one at all! She was heart-broken. Even her best friend Myara failed to keep her in good spirits. Princess Sara begged to be left alone in her well-decorated chamber, with her depressing thoughts.

One day, she chanced upon two guards discussing Juan. They had their backs to her and were lost in their discussion. One of them was saying, “I wonder what will happen to that lad now, most of all, what will happen to the Kingdom of Regina and the fair Princess? What about commoners like us, in the face of an aggression by invaders?” The Princess’ hair stood on end. Why were they discussing such solemn topics and what had happened to her Juan? She strained her ears and listened from her hiding place behind a massive pillar in the courtyard of the palace. Then she heard the other guard saying in a pitying voice, “Poor Juan. Neither did he complete his task, nor did he get the Princess’ hand! He only ended being blinded and imprisoned in the shrine for the rest of his life. What a pity!”

On hearing this terrible news, the Princess let out a strangled, high-pitched cry and swooned. The two guards, caught unawares, whirled around, saw her prone figure and looked at each other guiltily. They had let the cat out of the bag. They were terribly embarrassed and feared the wrath of the King. They sprinkled water on her, by bringing handfuls from the fountain in the courtyard and looked around stealthily to see if anyone had seen that scene. When they were satisfied, that they were alone with the Princess, they heaved a huge sigh of relief. When she came to, they pleaded her to not reveal anything to the King. She in turn bargained with them to tell her the truth about Juan’s accident and disappearance.

As she heard every detail, she wept silently, with sobs wracking her slender frame. To say that she was distraught was an understatement. Still she composed herself and promised them saying, “You have my word, I’ll not betray your confidence.  But do keep me informed about the further developments from time to time.” The guards marveled at her magnanimity and her stoic composure in the face of this great personal tragedy. Then they left her alone in her private mourning.

At this point, Martha was confused. Why had she brought in tragedy so early in her story? The young lad had just begun his task and on the every first day, she had banished him to the shrine, made the Princess sorrowful and nearly finished her story! She fretted and fumed at her stupidity and mulled over whether she should rewrite the story, after all! She decided that she’d have something to eat and fortify herself and then maybe she could take a break from her all-consuming writing and ponder over the course of unfortunate events in her story. She even considered going to her publisher’s office and running the story through the Editor to see what he felt about it.

She was sure that he would be objective and give her valuable inputs to improve her story. But immediately, she scoffed at her own idea. Why should I let anyone else decide what my characters should or shouldn’t do in my story? Let me be the judge! Yes, it was certainly not like her to take any one’s help in refining her story. Hence she resolved to find a way out of that impasse herself. Maybe a short nap would do the trick!

She rose from her desk, imagining her hero and heroine frowning behind her back and went into the kitchen. Being confused about the time of the day, she glanced at the huge grand-father clock with a huge pendulum, hanging in the alcove in the passage and saw that it was mid-night. She frowned as she realized that her schedule was totally in a state of disarray. She’d never had dinner at midnight! She tossed a salad of beetroot slices, carrots, lettuce and smoked salmon; that she got from the freezer and ate the cold meal, chewing in silence. Silence meant that her characters weren’t talking inside her head then. She had silenced them for the moment though she knew that they’d soon be squabbling there! They seldom gifted her solitude.

After the meal, she put the remnants away and walked slowly into her cozy bedroom. Suddenly she shivered as a cold draught blew in from the huge French windows. She hastened to close them and turned to see Juan lying on her bed, tired and scarred. His right eye was swollen, red and appeared vacant. With a start she realized that he was blinded in one eye. Her heart went out to him. She was responsible for his pitiable plight. She walked over to him and started fussing over him. “Juan, my dear, wake up. Have you had anything to eat at all? How did you escape from the shrine?”

Juan just lay there, motionless, in his tattered peasant’s clothes with a hand over his forehead. Tears silently streamed down his cheeks, as he moaned softly, “Sara, dear Sara, where’ve you been, my dear? I’m sorry that I couldn’t fulfill my promise to you. I failed miserably in the task set by your father, the Honorable King of Regina. I failed myself. Worse, I failed my beloved mother. Oh, why wasn’t I blinded in both eyes, so that I couldn’t have seen the remorse and reproach in her lovely eyes!”

With a flash of inspiration, Martha knew that she didn’t want her hero to be a loser! Yes, she’d revise her story and bring him back from the jaws of death. But first, he had to be brought out from that shrine. She racked her brains for a solution. But her brain appeared fagged and her thoughts were incoherent. She decided to have that nap. But she didn’t want to disturb her grieving and wounded hero, hence she took a pillow and tiptoed into her living-room and went to sleep on the couch there. She was surprised to see that it was already occupied. 

Sara was sleeping there, her rose-pink lips slightly open, her long and shining mane, strewn across the sides of the couch and over her body. She wore a golden sheath and appeared radiant like the Goddess Venus. She tossed and turned in her sleep and Martha feared that she’d fall from the narrow couch in her restless sleep. She paused as she heard Sara moaning, “Juan, my love, Juan my love!” in her disturbed sleep. Afraid to interrupt the ‘sleeping beauty’s’ sleep, Martha looked around helplessly, trying to locate a place to lie down for the night, and ended up sleeping, curled on a stuffed, huge chair in front of the fireplace.

To be continued... 

The copyright of this novel is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.

A Suitor for the Princess - Chapter 8

                     She returned home after her shopping expedition with Juan and Sara accompanying her everywhere, made a pot of tea and settled down to a hearty breakfast of boiled eggs, marmalade and bread, cakes and two mugs of piping hot tea. At last, she felt refreshed and charged. She was amused that she had changed her routine for the first time in her life! Having breakfast at noon! Really, Juan and Sara, you are the culprits! Well, I’m sorry for having kept you waiting in the wings for so long. She smiled indulgently and at once started writing.

                Juan started climbing the Western-side steps without much ado. These were also almost vertical like those on the Southern side. Without a thought about his swollen knees, he kept ascending the rough steps hewn into the hillside, probably with primitive tools by an amateur!  Suddenly lots of eagles were swooping on Juan and attacking him ferociously from all directions. Single-handedly, unarmed, he fought them valiantly, as he grabbed their necks and twisted them, clasped their sharp claws and pushed them away with all his might until a particularly vicious bird pecked one of Juan’s eyes and he started bleeding profusely, collapsing on the stone steps with an anguished cry, rolling down the steps, with the angry birds still hovering above him and pecking away at him.

                He found himself on the third step and saw the guard looking anxiously at his sorry state. He gave him a soft piece of cloth that he tore from his turban, to wrap around his eye. He also gave him a sturdy twig, about 6 ft. in length, to shoo away the vicious birds. Writhing in pain, Juan blindly made his unsteady way upwards, randomly waving his ‘weapon’ about, yelling loudly like a madman to scare away the birds and trying to see his way through the remaining one good eye. He shuddered to think about how the Princess would view him and her reaction to his blinding.

               He could still feel the thick red blood gushing out of the hole that was once his sharp eye. To avoid septicemia and certain death, he decided to go in for some home-made first-aid. He sat down wearily on a flat step and got out a slab of turmeric that his mother had thoughtfully provided him with and insisted on his taking along, lest he was hurt sometime during his odious task. Now he thanked her foresight and her persistence in her insistence. Yes, mothers knew the best!

                 Juan broke off a piece, powdered it with his hands, mixed a little water and made a thick paste. Gingerly, he removed the make-shift ‘bandage’ and applied the turmeric paste, wincing in agony. Then he took his large cravat and tied it crosswise over his eye and his head. He felt slightly better. But soon thereafter, as he inched his way to the top, he realized that the birds had stopped bothering him but another thing was bothering him. A slight headache which soon threatened to overtake his well-being completely! The throbbing was the greatest around his temples and at the base of his skull. Nevertheless, he pushed on, determined to make it at least to the summit. Maybe he could plead for some real first-aid at the shrine. Surely they wouldn’t deny him that!

                    With a dry mouth, cramps in his calves, sores on his toes and a head that felt numb, he bravely reached the shrine and promptly crashed in front of its huge iron gates. The guard posted there logged in 100 on his register. He was alarmed to see the piteous plight of that fine young man in front of him. After an hour, Juan opened his eyes to see that he had not moved an inch from there. It was raining heavily and he was soaked to his skin. The guard now wore a protective water-proof sheath around his shoulders. He hadn’t helped Juan in any way.

                    Maybe, Juan rationalized, he had been instructed by the King to not assist him in any manner in achieving his endeavor, which only meant that the guard at the foothill who had given him a piece of his turban was a genuinely large-hearted and brave fellow. He had knowingly risked the wrath of the King and even of losing his job! Anyway, now he had to ask for help from the seers in the shrine, himself. The kind seers would surely come to his rescue! He rose with great difficulty, water dripping from his soaked and tattered clothes, crying in pain and rang the huge gong placed outside the gates.

After what seemed like an eternity, the huge gates opened to reveal an old, very old seer. The folds of skin on his wizened face hid small, compassionate eyes and thin, quivering lips. His large ears strained to hear what the young man was struggling to utter in his feeble voice. “Respected Sir, could you please help me? I urgently need some first-aid and expert medical treatment to save my right eye. I’ve been pecked by a huge eagle, while on my way here.”

The seer looked at him blankly. What was such a young lad doing there in the first place? Didn’t he know that once a person entered the shrine, he could never ever return to the land of the people? Of course, the seer hadn’t even heard about the ‘test’ put forth by the King of Regina and was far removed from such ‘earthly’ news. Much against his will, opting to save the lad, he dragged him in, being closely watched in awe, by the guard.

Warning bells rang in the guard’s ears. What exactly was happening there? How could he inform the King and his Minister about this unforeseen development, as he had been strictly forbidden from vacating his post, at all costs? Of course, it was obvious that the young lad would never complete his task and never marry the fair Princess Sara! He felt very sorry for that young man. He had not only endangered his life for the Princess but also ended up forsaking his own freedom and life. He’d never emerge from the hallowed portals of that mysterious shrine!

The days passed by, with the King worried about the young man’s fate and that of his beloved daughter too! Would she die a spinster? What would happen to his kingdom after his death? The guards had informed the palace that the daring and dashing young man had been attacked by ferocious, nesting eagles, blinded and taken refuge in the shrine. The King had been aghast and then inconsolable at the thought that that lad named Juan would never step foot outside that secluded shrine for the rest of his life. Oh what a waste of a young life and what a pity! The whole month passed by.

The Queen had been informed about Juan’s terrible ordeal, by the King and his Minister. But everybody had been absolutely forbidden to reveal the truth to the Princess. They didn’t dare break the news for fear of breaking her tender, loving heart. But after 30 days, the Princess couldn’t bear the suspense any longer. She pestered the King for the good news. She pleaded with her mother to be honest with her and tell her whether that handsome young lad had succeeded in his daredevil feat. Her parents just looked at her stonily with sad and downcast eyes. She knew deep within her that something was wrong. Very, very wrong!

To be continued.... 

The copyright of this novel is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.