I specifically created a festival for this book and introduced a new local deity.
'Was it necessary for the sari?' Ajiona asked tugging at the colourful material.
Juliana rolled her eyes. 'It's not cultural appropriation; you are just getting a feel of the culture.'
'I can get a feel of the culture without wearing a lehenga and choli,' Ajiona hissed at her friend then patted at her hair. She had twisted the unruly curls into a tight topknot, showing off her long graceful neck.
Juliana smiled and hooked her arm with Ajiona's. 'We can get henna tattoos afterwards and maybe you can get a septum ring.'
Ajiona gave her a look that plainly said she was out of her mind if she was going to get her septum pierced. With a sigh, Ajiona fell in with the rest of the tourists.
Mahishmathi always had the highest number of tourists, no one knew why. It was a small almost inconspicuous city built on a hill with a great past. The palace complex was one of the relics of that past, a forbidden ruin at the pinnacle of the largest hill, the city surrounding it. The city although now modern still retained some of its ancient buildings and the wall that encircled it still stood with those huge elephant statues manning the four gates and bridges at each gates arching over branches of the river Mahishi that wound round the city, slipped into it and then out. Mahishmathi was bordered on the east by a mountain range among which was the looming Gauriparvat; river islands formed its western borders where pearl harvest was common. To the north were former vassal states most of them extinct, the ruins of the vassal kingdom, Kunthala kingdom was recently recovered and tourist trooped to the place as much as they came in multitudes to Mahishmathi, the south of the city was mostly semi-wilderness and dense forests though a branch of the Mahishi river snaked its way through and emptied out further into the sea.
Ajiona flipped through the brochure she had picked at the stand by the gates of the palace. The sun was high in the sky and fierce, Ajiona wished she had brought a head covering; at least she brought a bottle of water. It was in her backpack, along with her laptop, phone and bars of chocolate for Juliana.
The guide named Ganesha after a god of fortune was a portly dude with dark brown skin and hair hidden under a turban. He spoke in efficient English with minimal accent, he didn't drone on about the history of the palace in a long winding and boring way. Instead it was engaging and very interesting. He spoke almost like the troubadours of the past, snaring their attention, his voice low and calm.
'The kingdom Mahishmathi was established circa 700 BCE, they flourished and was one of the great kingdoms that endured for a long time before India's fall to the British rule. Mahishmathi was once ruled by a tribal group called the Vaithalikas who knew the secret to the Gaurikanta, a special stone mined from the now dormant volcano Gauriparvat, the alloy gotten from it was called Gauridhooli and when mixed with metal created an invincible weapon. One time in the past, they provided shelter to a man called Uthama Varma who stoke the secret and ousted the Vaithalikas from the kingdom into the forest using the Gaurikanta and capture the Mahishmathi kingdom...'
Ajiona was lost in his voice, forgetting that they were tramping on sun warmed cobbled courtyards with no shade. They were soon led into the palace itself; it was the size of a whole city with multiple squares and courtyards, pavilions and terraces and temples with countless statues of gods.
They trooped after their guide like chicks after mother hen as the man showed them the square where the coronation took place and other important events that the king had to oversee. At the top of a tiered dais was his golden throne; far below were gilded seats for dignitaries. Ganesha showed them the iron cage where a princess, called Devasena was kept captive for twenty five years. Devasena was apparently wife to one of the Bahubalis and rejected the Bhalla's advances leading to her imprisonment.
As they all stared at the iron cage with the chains, Ajiona wondered how the woman has survived that long exposed to the weather. By sheer force of will, she guessed. Ganesha showed them the pit where King Bhalla was immolated by the combined effort of Bahubali junior and Devasena and they ushered a new era of peace and prosperity that lasted generations.
They were shown the antapura - the royal harem -, the long throne room with its galleries and lit by countless braziers, the ministers' chairs and the royal family's seat on the raised dais, the ruler's seat at the top. They were led off the throne room to a long passage lined by portraits. Juliana clutched her arms tightly, her face showed excitement.
'You will see the portrait soon,' she whispered.
The man led them down the hall, putting names to the faces that either glared or smiled at them. Ajiona suddenly felt uneasy, she had the unexplainable feeling that she had walked down this hall before and someone had been with her. Someone tall and glowering! Ajiona ignored the feeling.
'Maharajah Vikramadeva, Rajamata Sivagami devi...'
Ajiona glanced at the portrait of the woman who had a small benevolent smile on her face; she sat on her throne with grace and confidence. Her eyes were shrewd and Ajiona guessed they did not miss anything, they showed formidable intelligence. Her posture showed strength and Ajiona guessed she could be ruthless as well as kind and merciful as well as unforgiving.
'Maharaja Bhallaladeva,' Ganesha gestured at the portrait of the infamous king. He was a strong broad chested man with handsome princely features, but his mouth was twisted in a cruel sneer, his eyes devoid of joy and laughter. Ajiona felt a pang of pain and sadness looking at the picture. I know him, her mind said. I've heard him laugh. Ajiona shuddered and brushed away the thoughts. She shouldn't have binge watched romance movie with Juliana, now she was thinking ridiculous thoughts.
'His portrait was originally removed from the hall and kept hidden but it was found fifty years ago in a demolished building in the city and returned to the palace. Here is Amarendra Bahubali, son of Maharaja Vikramadeva. Cousin to Maharaja Bhallaladeva, he served as Senapati to Maharaja Bhallaladeva for a period of one year and was subsequently banished from the city after where he died. Rajkumari Devasena, his wife, a princess of the now extinct Kunthala kingdom. She was promised to Maharaja Bhallaladeva by his mother Rajamata Sivagami but chose Amarendra Bahubali instead. She gave birth to Maharaja Mahendra Bahubali...'
Ajiona noticed that the kings from Vikramadeva, Amarendra Bahubali and Mahendra Bahubali all shared strong resemblance. They could be mistaken for each other.
'This is it!' Juliana whispered excitedly.
Ganesha was now pointing at the portrait of a young lady that was Ajiona. A gasp escaped from her mouth. She hadn't expected this level of resemblance even though Juliana had told her beforehand, even attempting to show her the picture to prove how much but Ajiona had declined.
The lady had her face, her green eyes, the secret smile of her, her hair was the same curls, she was wearing the same locket Ajiona was wearing now, and it was unmistakable. Diane had chosen a small circular locket for her fifth birthday, it housed the rare picture of the three of them, and Ajiona never took it off. The lady sat the same way Ajiona did when she was relaxed. A door in her mind opened and Ajiona heard boisterous laughter and remembered the feeling of pleasure.
'Lady Bhavani,' Ganesha was saying, 'adopted by Rajamata Sivagami. There has been no clear account of where she came from with some speculating that she was from the future. It was said she was romantically involved with Maharaja Bhallaladeva before her untimely demise, it wasn't even clear if she truly died as some said she was banished to the outlying villages by Rajamata Sivagami. Nevertheless, she is as popular as the Bahubalis and is venerated among the locals as the embodiment of good and justice.'
'Told you she looked like you,' Juliana said.
Ajiona did not respond. Seeing her own face staring down at her from thousands of years old painting had shaken her. It felt like her world was about to take a tumble, it felt...weird. But the lady could not be her. She was Ajiona not Bhavani and she didn't exist all those years ago or adopted by a Sivagami. She was born in the twenty-first century, her birth certificate showed that to Diane and Jason Barris. Maybe it was a weird coincidence that she looked like Ajiona or had the same locket. It should be that, coincidence. But a part of her wasn't convinced. What if...? She squished it.
*
Despite her reservations, Juliana managed to coax Ajiona into having her hands tattooed with henna and her septum pierced. Ajiona acquiesced easily because she was still preoccupied with the warring state the portrait had put her mind into. She kept hearing snippets of conversations in her head, some that are romantic in nature, and others that were angry and laughter, lot of laughter, some deep and masculine, some soft and feminine. It gave her a headache. The more she tried to ignore them or lock them back behind the door in the head, the more they became prominent taking up space in her head she almost did not have room for a single thought. So in the end, she succumbed to them. They roared loudly for a while then petered out into whispers but didn't fade.
The henna shop was run by an old grandmother and her four granddaughters. They treated them like celebrities, fussing and bringing them chai and Coke. The old woman left for a while and returned with a tray of trinkets that immediately caught Juliana's attention and she proceeded to buy almost all the tray.
Ajiona chose her design of flowers and geometric patterns and leaned back on the chair while the women chatted back and forth in Telugu and English. Juliana joined in the talk and soon the conversation veered to romance and who was the favourite Hollywood and Indian actors. The air was permeated with giggles and aroma of incense. Ajiona did not join in the laughter. The old woman noticed this and whispered something to her granddaughter that was tracing the henna on Ajiona's skin.
'Deedee says you are very pretty and will definitely find your true love at the festival tonight.'
Ajiona smiled at the compliment and at the old woman. 'Thank you. But I don't know of any festivals.'
'It's for unmarried girls,' another piped in. She was the youngest; she looked fifteen and was in pigtails. 'We dance all through the night and light oil lamp and float them on the river in raffia boats with requests written in paper and put in the lamp. It is said before the full moon wanes our requests will be answered. Our dance is supposed to bring luck to the city.'
'What about the men? They don't participate?' Ajiona wanted to know.
'They dance with us or come to watch us dance and some float the lamps but it's mostly girls thing.'
'You did not tell her how to find her true love Lalita,' the one with Juliana said, but rushed on before Lalita could reply. 'It is said, you sit at the edge of the pool near the banyan tree in the palace and whisper the words true love and he will appear to you.'
'Just like that?' Ajiona asked.
The girl nodded. 'Just like that. What? You don't believe me?'
Ajiona did not want to say it's just folklore and offend the girl who seemed to truly believe in what she said, so she just gave a diplomatic smile.
'I don't blame you if you don't. But I do believe, after all that's how mother met father.' The girl insisted.
'So would you be coming?' Lalita asked.
Before Ajiona could open her mouth to respond, Juliana jumped to it. 'Of course, it's not like we have anything to do other than return to the hotel. We stay at the Milton's.' She informed them.
'The Milton's,' Lalita sighed enviously. 'That's the best hotel in the city, impeccable service.'
While the henna dried, Ajiona's septum was pierced. It was done quickly and efficiently and the pain wasn't much, she only felt a pinch and the urge to sneeze. After that, they paid generously and stood to leave. She had learned their names. The old woman was affectionately called Deedee, the oldest who was two or three years older that Ajiona and a university student was called Lakhi, the second born was a year younger and called Parvati, the third was Ajiona's age and was Maya and the last was Lalita.
'The festival starts by eight; we will meet you at the lobby of your hotel by say 7:30?'
They both agreed to it and said their goodbyes.