The virtuous was once vicious.

****

The men, along with the Senapati and the Rajan gathered in a huge celebration hall to dance and sing in honour of the new groom. Kings and generals from subordinate kingdoms had come to congratulate the mighty Senapati on his wedding.

Pale golden light seeped in through the curtains, pouring into the waves of glamour falling down the chandelier. Soft melody of flute came to the ears of the men. It soothed their unrequited loves, like an ointment on the wounds sewn by ballads. Little fireflies roamed around the darker corridors lit by torches.

"Everyone, please take your seat."
The Rajan sat on his majestic throne of marble, ivory and gold. A maidservant with a fan stood on the right while his bodyguard Indumala stood on the left.

The women living in the palace had come to this mansion too, watching from a floor above from where they had unrestricted view of the happenings occuring below. The Rajan had bought for them velvety skirts and muslin shawls. They were prohibited from sitting along with the men.

Though, there was one lady in particular, dressed in red with a veiled face who had joined the men. Her copper coloured hands were enriched with flaxen bangles. 

"Let the night be enjoyed!" Rudra announced the celebration.

Chalices dripping with smooth wine clinked against one another. Rudra's  costly fur coat dripped in a mixture of salty sweat and the intoxicating liquid.

Aryamna stared emptily at his chalice. The liquid mocked him– his life and his decisions. Swirling in it he saw reflections of his long forgotten past. Once, this wine had been a favourite. Alas, the Rajan inside his soul had been put to sleep, alike to princesses from fairy tales– with a golden stick of loyalty and a silver stick of silence. He took a sip, the bitter liquid burning his tongue. He asked a servant to take it away.

His eyes fell on Indumala. The sixteen feet long spear looked mighty in her strong grip. Her feet were positioned a little far from one another, her spine straight and head held high. The light of the chandelier and the torches flickered in her warm eyes like a dance of ire. In them he saw the towering walls, barriers to vice. Sealed lips and a stoic face reflected the values with which Aryamna had brought her up. Maybe for one day he could let her have madira. Though he knew from the disgust in her eyes that she would never taste a drop with these seemingly lusty men. A shiver ran down his spine. Did he own the right to judge?

"Where are the girls?" Rudra thundered.

A flock of girls came. Thin golden coins seamed into a chain embraced the voluptuous waists and purple skirts draped the legs. A tight maroon cloth was fitted around their bosom, sleek gold necklaces resting over the cleavage. Their eyes were dusted blue and lips painted orange, contrasting the dangling violet earrings.

Aryamna compared them with his daughter. Indumala wore white trousers and a sublime yellow blouse under a silvery armour. Her hands were covered in metallic bangles. She was a sorrel goddess bathed in lustre. He didn't hate the dancers either, but maybe despised the beings who enjoyed the connotations associated with courtroom dancers.

The dance commenced.

The girls spread their arms while standing in a queue, bending over and then leaning back, creating the illusion of rippling waves. Their graceful, small steps headed towards the corners of the hall. They mimicked the swans, swaying their hips and expressing love along with the tunes of sarod and sarangi. The guests were astonished to notice a morsing too. The dancers added more life to the colourful night.

Suddenly, a detail came to Aryamna's attention. The girls didn't wear any anklets.

The king was busy in sipping wine and being dizzy and dazed. From the corner of his eye, Rudra noticed Aryamna peering at him. The Rajan wiggled his brows. "What's the matter?" Rudra spelled silently.

Aryamna shook his head. "Nothing." Artfully, he traced his ankle. Rudra caught the gesture.

The darkness upon Aryamna's face melted into pity, draining into a void of hopelessness. His eyes smiled through glistening drops. Rudra put down his chalice, the earlier brightness of his face now invisible. The blackened eyes of the Rajan dilated, lost in thoughts. In the nexus of wickedness, a flickering flame passed by. Rudra smiled to himself, drooping eyes lingering at his feet.

The girls now took turns to go to each of the guests present. The kings and generals handed over to them jewels and gold coins. Aryamna was glad that the worse, that he had imagined, didn't happen. Some nightmares better remained unfulfilled. He twisted his lips when any king held the hand of a maiden for too long.
The lady in red had been approached too who gave them a blessing. Some of the kings were craning their heads and leaning on their sit, attempting to look at her face, only for her to pull the veil further down.

While lost in admiring the woman, a girl came to Aryamna and joined their hands in a namaskara. He took out his earrings and handed it over to her.

"Dear beauties, don't take anything from the groom. All he is wearing are a part of his memories now," Rudra said

The girls giggled. Dancing to the centre of the hall, they assembled there. A male dancer came from behind the curtains, carrying a green headdress bedecked with rubies. Together they went and placed it on the head of the Senapati, then returned to their positions, concluding the performance.

As the dancers disappeared behind the curtains, the women above began groaning and complaining. "So, that's it? It ends here."

The kings laughed. "They find it boring now."

Rudra scoffed. "So what?"

"Indeed, it had just started!" they chirped.

Indumala's head spun when she heard those voices coated with honey. Too much of sweet just made the atmosphere bitter. The high-pitched giggles were cleaving her eardrums.
"Oh man, my legs pain," Indumala muttered under her breath.

"You have to endure."

"You have sharp ears," she remarked tartly.

"My senses are the best."

"Even after having your third chalice?"

Rudra snickered. "Even after a hundred. I am not a child like you."

Indu tapped her foot. "Well, now do something. People want to see more."

A dull surprise sparkled in her eyes. She didn't like how the women demanded more entertainment, as if they had a lack of it in the first place. Such coquettish behaviour heated up the head. Her heart was green with unacknowledged envy. The women were still not used to her. A fragment of Indumala's soul remained hidden, akin to the dark side of the moon.

"Very well. If everyone wants to enjoy, here I go."

With a drunken gait, Rudra reached the centre of the hall, throwing away the chalice after licking off the last drops of wine. Sure, the sight was sizzling to the women cheering above.
"Does anyone feel the heat rising?"

The kings clapped their hands. "So, is the Rajan himself going to entertain us?"

Rudra spat on the ground. The king lowered his head. Aryamna covered his face in shame while Indu looked on in sour amusement.

"Nah, I am not here to dance for you all. I am here to please my brother." He spread his arms wide, reaching Aryamna with clumsy steps. "And, I will dance because finally I could succeed in making him a householder!"

"When will the Rajan marry?" a king asked.

"I am not a good man," he said, biting his tongue and raising his hands in defeat.

Aryamna felt nauseous. He held onto the pillow on his lap, fingers digging into the delicate cotton.

"This night, I shall sing a song. But mind it, my words have an icy touch to it."

The kings shrugged. "Why not?"

Rudra waited for the groom to answer. His inebriated gaze focused on the stiffness of Aryamna's smile. "Senapati, are you ready?"

"As if you need my permission," he scoffed. "Go on."

Rudra spun on his left foot, arms high in the air and head flopped back. Auburn locks moistened up in sweat, glimmering in the dim light. They bounced over the narrow moonbeams, lighting his camphor-white face in a mystical glow. Ebony eyes darkened like the skin of the cobra. A smile very ominous pulled the heartstrings of many.

"It's a tale hundreds of years old."

Indumala's ears perked up. Why, did the king love telling stories?

"About an unloved princess, so alone

With misfortune being her maid

And shame her shadow."

Aryamna's throat dried.

Rudra took a deliberate pause, grinning from ear to ear. The horror that swum in the groom's eyes was exciting. He liked to see this man of war and quiet words fidget in the seat.

"Meandering like a river swift

She flooded the hearts of men plenty

Wars were fought for her

Until came a nasty little thing.

It's a tale hundreds of years old

About an unloved princess, so alone

With misfortune being her maid

And shame her shadow."

Rudra's voice became louder every moment, and he clicked his fingers to the tune of the flute.

"Nasty little thing, from the streets of the country

Snatching away the princess' peace

Took hold of her hands and hips

Curses fiery agonising him.

Upon the rays of sunset departing

He was crowned the king

Nasty little thing, such a nasty little thing

He took hold of the princess' peace!

A tale hundreds of years old

About an unloved princess, so alone

With misfortune being her maid

And shame her shadow.

And slowly, as sparks fly

Lust and love defied

Like puppets of infatuation, the two danced

Over the pyre of their doom.

Alas, the princess would not be conquered

But the king wanted her

Nasty little thing, such a nasty little thing

He took hold of the princess's heart!"

The lady in red got, shaking her hands to let the bangles jingle. The hall fell into a sinister silence. Veins popped up on the copper-toned arms. The women standing above appeared shocked too, some of them retreating from the scene. Rudra ceased to sing and turned back with a smirk. Nodding his head, he pointed at the door with a bow. The lady in red left silently, and the song continued.

"One night the king saw his reflection

Twisted like a demon's, horns on his head

A symbol of masculinity, a Lord of insanity.

He vowed to take what he owned.

So one dawn, as the women surrounded his being

He unleashed his true form, a demon king!

Little by little, the princess took steps back

As little by little, the king extended his hands.

Alas, the princess turned a doe!

Timid and small her form

The king, a hunter, chained her

Wounding himself in lust.

Nasty little thing, such a nasty little thing

He took hold of the princess' heart!

Chaining her to him he fled

Far away, where no one could ever reach.

A tale hundreds of years old

About an unloved princess, so alone

Now, tied with a demon king

Walking down a path of doom

Misfortune remained her maid

Shame her shadow, forever."