Half Way From India (On Hold)

Chapter 2

 Incense rushes through my nose as I step into the temple. Words cannot describe the splendor of the Mhasa temple. The entire exterior and interior is made of gold and jewels. Towering gold steeples shoot up from the roof. Inside, are the statues of all the Hindu gods and goddesses. Shrines to Hanuman the monkey and past ancestors line the walls. There must be at least 500 candles in the temple, large and small. In the center of it all, is an alter to Indra, king of the heavens.

          I am bathed head to toe in water purified by Vishnu, the preserver. Oil of Durga, the invincible, is poured all over me, and then I am submerged in water again. Servants replace my midnight blue sari, with a white one to signify purity. My veil is changed to solid black, but will change to white after I’m done with the preparations to signify clarity and understanding.

          I am then to sleep in the temple, while Hindu monks chant and pray over me while I sleep.

          That night I dreamt vivid dreams. I was the ground, sky, night, and day all at once. I saw a line of travelers, hundreds of people long, walking to a lake in the middle of the orange desert sand. In the middle of the lake, was a man.

          I awoke before I saw his face.

          Today is the day of the anointing. As soon as I opened my eyes, I was given only water that was purified by Vishnu. I am to sit cross-legged in front of Indra’s alter while I say the promises of Indra. I am given a plate of smoking incense in my left hand and a scepter in my right. And I begin to chant.

          “Ramayana be in my soul. Lakshmi be in my heart. Shiva be at my feet. Saraswati be in my voice. Brahma be at my hands. Kali be in my mind. All the gods be in my being now and forever.”

~

          It is five minutes before my anointing. I am praying like mad to Hanuman for his courage. I wish I could be brave like a usually am. The anointing is taking place in the main courtyard of the palace. I am standing behind a red, silk curtain that is hung in the gateway arch. The only thing separating me from the all the nobles and people of Patalimputra, is that curtain.

          Suddenly, there is a hushed silence as my parents and Mukul make their entrance. My father then begins his long speech about the history of the India, the prosperous time of the Gupta Empire, and all the small details that I’m too nervous to hear. My father then begins to talk about a young woman you will take over India some day. How this young woman will continue to lead her people to greater excellence. This young woman, is me.

          The only part of the speech I really hear is my entrance queue.

          “I give you Princess Shashi Indrani Mhasa!”

          I am deafened by the screams and the cries. It seems the whole world has come to see me. So many faces and eyes staring right at me. I suddenly feel so exposed in my silk, white sari. I want to duck behind the curtain again, wrap myself in it, and never come out. I have to use all my will power to keep my feet moving, or I might tip over. I catch Suraji, standing off to the side, his eyes shinning. He doesn’t look me in the eye, but I can see a smile tugging at his lips.

          I take my place, kneeling in front of my father. As he looks down at me, and I look up at him, I see an expression in his eyes that I can’t decode. I can’s see pride or sadness. But the small bit of emotion I catch playing across his face is… distaste.

          The entire ceremony is a blur. Prayers are chanted, speeches are given, and all as I kneel in front of the people I call my family. My knees are beginning to become quite sore when my fathers booming voice announces that the oils of Indra are to be brought forward. Two Hindu monks dressed in black bring forth a small glass bottle of golden oil. They place it in my father’s hands with heads bowed. My father lifts the bottle and his eyes up toward Indra, says a silent prayer, and returns his gaze back to me. One of the two monks takes the stopper out from the bottle and pours the oil all over father’s hands. Right above the tattoo on my forehead, my father makes a circle with his thumb, a slash in the same place, and then an X over both. He wipes his hands, takes me by the shoulders, and lifts me so that I stand. Father looks me in the eyes for a few moments. Then he turns me to face the crowd and cheers and screams erupt from the mouths of the people. I am now their princess.

          The banquet is next. The throne room is crowed with so much laughter and so much food. There are too many colorful dishes that my eyes start to hurt. There is Luchi which is unleavened bread deep fried in oil, momo dumplings, and my favorite Tandoori chicken. There are dancers and performers and so many things I think my head my burst. Into the night it lasts. All this while, my father still has the unreadable expression he wore before. My mother looks some what pained. Why? Mukul is expressionless, but then again, he always is.

~

My head is buzzing as I walk along south hall back to my bedroom, my first time alone today. I hear footsteps as I rub my throbbing temples. I look up to see Suraji coming towards me. We stop, about a foot away from each other. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the beginning of the anointing. A silence hangs between us, but when Suraji surprises me by opening his arms to me, I walk involuntarily into them. My chin rests on his shoulder and his arms wrap around my waist.

          “Princess Shashi,” he whispers in my ear.

          “I’m scared Suraji,” I confide. “All of India is watching me now. Maybe even the whole world. Just waiting for me to mess up and say or do something wrong.”

          “But you won’t. You have your parents, Mukul, and me behind your back. And if you do slip, it’s only human,” he reassures. “For now, focus on learning the part of the Empress. You don’t have to be anything but Shashi now.”

          I pull away, my hands resting on his arms. Suraji is my best friend and like a brother. I’ve never really ever been romantically attracted to him; it’s just that he’s the only one who sees me as girl. Not a princess of India.

          Suraji takes me into another hug. “Go to sleep Shashi. And, your hair was perfect.”

          I give a tiny laugh. Suraji gives my hand a very tight squeeze, and then his fingers slip from mine.

~

          As I near my bedroom, my ears pick up loud, arguing voices. It’s my parents. They’re outside in a courtyard going on about something I can’t make out. When I pass the door, I stop dead in my path. I can hear my father say a quick and irritated sentence.

          “I will not have someone who is not my child and not of my blood sitting on the throne!”