She looked up at me, her needle still moving. “Regardless, I know, and I care. Now sit down. If you don’t wish to paint, pick up your stitching.”
As I was only a young princess, the nobility could speak to me like this. But it made me hate this particular woman more. “Why should it matter to you if I can paint a tree or stitch in a straight line? There are others who can do such work.” In the Binding Plane I tried again. You dislike this task. Would it not be easier to leave?
“That is true,” she said. “But do you not think this is an important skill? It will aid in bringing you a good husband.”
“Do you not think my father can bring me a good husband?” I retorted, a bit rudely. She gave a long exhale, then lifted her shoulders in a very ladylike shrug.
“If you do not think it is valuable, then I suppose you will not bother to learn whether I keep you here or not.”
“I can go?” I blurted out, surprised at her acquiescence.
“If you insist.” She did not look up from her work, and I backed out of the room, hardly believing it had worked.
I intended to spend my newly free afternoons wandering and playing in the Binding Plane. I managed to do this for about three days before Manthara came to my room one evening, looking rather cross with me. “You must think yourself very clever. But I know you snuck away from your lessons. So tomorrow afternoon, you can take lessons with me instead.”
I could tell Manthara would brook no argument, and likely no manipulations either. And I was curious to see what her lessons would be, confident she would not let me languish with a paintbrush or a needle.
The next day, she brought me to meet the other servants and observe what they did. I learned their names and the names of their children and watched as our bonds in the Binding Plane slowly thickened.
Manthara also bid me accompany her when she attended to the highest-ranking noblewomen during their weekly gatherings. They were all wives to the men of the Mantri Parishad, my father’s council of advisors. They had rarely spoken to me when my mother was around. The pleats of their saris fell just so, even when they were seated in chairs, and not a hair was out of place in their high buns. I found their effortless perfection intimidating. But Manthara simply deposited me at the table as though I belonged there.
The first time I attended, the ladies fawned over me, complimenting my hair and dress and asking after my studies. I sat there scowling, plucking at the bonds in the Binding Plane to leave me alone until they finally did.
Afterward, in the privacy of my room, Manthara chastised me. “Why did you behave like that?” she demanded, aggressively straightening my things so that I would know she was angry. “You had a chance to win them over. Think of what you could learn from them.”
I could not think of anything to say, overwhelmed by shame at having disappointed Manthara.
The next afternoon, when they again asked about my studies, I told them the truth, explaining how I found most of the arts extremely boring. At the back of the room, Manthara pressed her lips together. So honesty too was wrong?
I gave a quick, awkward laugh, and said, “I am joking, of course.” What did they want to hear? “I am enjoying my lessons,” and “I hope my father will be pleased with my progress.” I forced a smile onto my face as I added, “I hope to one day be as accomplished as my mother.” At this I received a few sympathetic clucks.
But soon I grew bored of their discussions, of their veiled manner of speaking and of giving polite, forced responses. My mother had not seemed like the type to put up with such chattering—but then again, I had never seen her in such situations. I took Manthara’s advice and decided to see what I could learn, not of the noblewomen themselves, but of the Binding Plane.
So at first, I simply told them, Kaikeyi is so kind and clever, and watched them warm to me, giving me praise for my maturity and intelligence. After a few meetings, when our bonds were better established, I began to ask other questions, things I was curious about. Why is my father displeased with your husband? I would ask, plucking the string, and the woman would sigh and start talking of how her husband had made a small error in his tribute and she was worried about him. Her kohl-lined eyes darted to me as she spoke, as though she was worried about me hearing too, but I gave her an innocent smile and told her, Kaikeyi is too young to understand.
At the end of each gathering, I was weary and drowsy with using the Binding Plane. But our bonds grew stronger, and so did I. With each passing week, my confidence grew. I could be good at this with time. I could take my mother’s place.