Amidst caring for three children while also overseeing all the activities of the kingdom of Maahishmati and keeping an eye over all its tributary states, seven years had passed very quickly for Sivagami. Today was the day the children received their ceremonial swords. 

Bhallaladeva received his first, being the eldest. He was so overjoyed that he immediately snatched the sword from her hands, running away excitedly; he did not even utter a word of acknowledgement or gratitude. The next in line was Baahubali, and like the well-mannered boy he was, he first bowed to touch Sivagami’s feet and then respectfully took it in his hands before touching it with his forehead. He’d seen Kattappa do that before. “It’s a sign of respect, Yuvaraja, for it is the weapon that earns you recognition by becoming the channel for your strength,” he’d said. The princess mirrored her twin’s actions, but seemed far less happy than either of her brothers. She glanced longingly towards something that was behind Sivagami, before sighing disappointedly and walking away.

“Wait, my child,” Sivagami stopped her. “You don’t seem happy… Do you not like the sword?”

“No, Amma… there is nothing of that sort on my mind.”

Sivagami stepped forward and caressed her head. “Then what is it?” Before Lalita could deny it, she added, “I always know what you need, Lali. I am your mother. Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s… it’s just that—” she pointed to her front. Sivagami turned around to see a bow and a set of arrows lying abandoned in a corner of the room. She was surprised when she took a closer look to see the late queen’s name on it. She did not know Maharani Akhila knew how to wield a weapon. She picked the bow up, dusting it a little, with her hands. The arrows were rusted and in no condition to be used, but the bow was alright. It just needed a change of string and some greasing. She handed it over to Lalita, who held it like the statue of Sri Rama held his bow in the small shrine that was dedicated to him in the fort. She gazed at the bow as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Is this all, my child? You wanted to be given a bow?”

“And arrows… so that I can learn…”

Sivagami chuckled. “My child, you really need to learn to be less hesitant. Of course you may learn how to wield the bow—in fact, it will be a source of pride for me if you master it!”

“Really?” Lalita’s eyes widened.

“Yes, really!” Sivagami’s tone mimicked the excitement in the child’s eyes.

Lalita immediately threw herself into Sivagami’s arms, embracing her. The older woman laughed, patting her head. “Now go on, show your brothers your special gift!”

Lunch time was always Lalita’s favourite part of the day. The young princess, now thirteen years old, never spent a single day without cursing her younger self for choosing to learn the technique of wielding both the sword and the bow at the same time, and for picking up an interest in music and dance. Though the princes too had to learn to work with bows and arrows, and were required to have a basic understanding of at least two performing arts, she was at a much advanced level than them. Her lessons in these subjects demanded more hours as compared to those of the boys. Though she did spend a lot of time with her brothers during the lessons of theoretical subjects, other meals and the rest time after sunset, lunch had always been her saviour, giving her an uninterrupted stretch of two hours when her body would be craving for rest.

She immediately took her usual seat among the students and was about to begin devouring the food served on her plate according to her preferences (she made a mental note to thank Vidya Akka later for always watching out for her), but noticed something strange. While Bhalla commented regarding how she seemed as if she had been starved for years on end, she did not find her twin beside her, readily joining in the jest.

“Where’s Baahu?” she asked, not caring to even pay attention to the friendly-natured insults coming from her cousin.

“I don’t know, he was wandering near that tree where Kattappa’s men dine.”

Lalita immediately got up, and was about to run off to that place, but stopped only for a moment to grab her own plate of food. Her favourite desserts were on the menu that day and she was not missing out on them because Baahu—for whatever godforsaken reason—chose not to have the food of the royal dining hall.

The place Bhalla was referring to was not too far from where they ate. She quickly spotted Baahu and ran over on her toes, quick but careful not to spill anything from her plate. She’d seen everyone stand up in respect as Baahu approached them, in the middle of their meal. He told everyone to sit down. Only a moment later, she took her seat beside Baahu, and as everyone was about to stand up again she said, as she panted, “I don’t want to repeat what my brother has just said. Continue eating.”

“Now feed me,” Baahu turned back to Kattappa.

“You are not supposed to be here Yuvaraja,” he glanced at the princess who already began nibbling on the various kinds of laddoos on her plate, “and neither you, Rakumari. You must not sit here among us—”

“I just told you that I’m hungry!” Baahubali whined. “Why are you reciting the rules?”

“But elaborate meals are ready for you inside the palace—”

“Yeah, they’re there,” Baahu groaned. “But what’s wrong with having this food? The very sight of it makes my mouth water…”

“You know what’s wrong. You are of royal descent, and we are of a lower class.”

Lalita frowned. She did not like this system her kingdom followed. She thought it was unfair. Just as she was about to voice her opinions, Baahu sighed and spoke in a firm tone. “Alright, then, I order you as the Prince of Maahishmati—” all the men visibly straightened at those words, “feed me, Mama.”

Kattappa was visibly taken aback, his eyes glistening. Nobody had shown him this kind of love. Especially not from the royal family, or for that matter, any noble family. They merely acknowledged his presence, for the kind of skill and experience he had, and perhaps respected him for it, but never loved him. Kattappa fed Baahubali the morsel of food he was about to eat a few minutes ago.

Lalita set her plate aside. “And me,” she asked, hopefully. Kattappa obliged gladly. Baahu snatched the plate from Kattappa’s hands and began eating the ball of ragi flour with the meat curry served as a side dish. She sighed and shook her head.

“He can be a little stupid, my brother,” she said, picking her own plate up to give it to Kattappa. Baahubali frowned at her only for a moment before blissfully returning his attention to the food. “But thankfully, I brought my food here. Take it, Mama. We can share.”

Just as Kattappa thought his day—his life—could not have gotten better, he was showered with more affection. He truly did not mind Baahubali snatching his food. The prince’s earlier gesture alone was enough to quell his hunger. Kattappa was stunned.

“Mama!” Lalita placed the plate in his hands. “Eat! The desserts they’ve made today are really the best.”

Kattappa could do little to hold his tears of happiness back. It would be an unforgettable moment of his life, one for which he would thank Mahadeva—and he would not know how many times. 

Lalita often had rough days in training. At the tender age of fifteen, she was learning how to wield the bow, the sword—and upon Rajamata’s insistence—the dagger as well, apart from music, dance, literature, natural sciences, political science and administration, and even enrolled herself in the basics of medicine a year ago.

She definitely had many rough days.

But today was an exceptionally rough day. She woke up with a bad headache, her head pounding, and perhaps she had a slight temperature too. But she was to be tested in three of her subjects and was going to be taught important concepts in two others. She could not miss today, she simply could not.

But by the time the sun set, she wished she did. She wished she collapsed some time before noon. At least then she would have not disgracefully failed all her exams and been unable to pay attention in those important lessons.

She did not perform too well in her weapon practice time either, but Kattappa understood. He did not scold the princess harshly, like the other teachers did. He only advised her in private to sort out her schedule and perhaps discontinue lessons in some subjects that were not too important. He knew she would eventually find a way to do everything; however, that did not mean that he wanted one of the two real well-wishers he had to stress herself out too much. But somehow, that ended up hurting her immensely too. Though his words were out of genuine care and concern, all she heard was, “stop biting off more than you can chew. You aren’t capable of this.”

She lay on her bed, exhausted, with her eyes closed. But sleep would not come to her. Only tears would. Tears that she desperately wished she could stop. She tried everything—furiously wiping them away, breaking things around her, stomping her feet, rolling on her bed, slapping herself, and finally, even hugging herself in an attempt to feel some semblance of comfort. 

Everything except voicing out her feelings to another soul. 

She did not even visit the temple of Rama as she normally would have. ‘Even he would be disappointed in me,’ she told herself, though she secretly hoped that was not true. She quietly slipped out of her chambers, and before anyone could notice, even jumped over the wall of the palace to go outside, into the city, for some fresh air.

When Baahubali found Rama alone in his little garbhagriha, he searched the rest of the entire palace but found not a single trace of her. Scared out of his mind, he ran to the meeting room that was off limits for him, where the core advisors of the king, or in this case, regent, would discuss key issues. He pushed the door open and yelled, “AMMA! Lali is nowhere to be found!”

Everyone worriedly stepped out of the room, halting the discussion, and began thinking of what could have happened to her. Kattappa was alerted by Pratyangira, Sivagami’s closest aide and guard, perhaps the only woman apart from Lalita to have ever been trained under him. Sivagami’s heart sank. When Kattappa arrived, she exchanged a brief glance with him, who immediately bowed before barking out some orders to the guards in his troop.

“Amma, I want to come along too,” Baahubali firmly asked.

“No—”

“Amma, please! I am a trained warrior too. I cannot sit and do nothing when my sister is missing.”

Sivagami was in no state of mind to argue with him. She nodded, telling him to stick close by, as she prepared a couple of her daggers, hiding them in the folds of her saree.

Lalita hadn’t worn much jewellery and walked by foot, not commanding much attention. Covering her head with her angavastram, hoping to hide her face in the shadow that would be produced, she moved around silently in the busiest streets where the night life would be distracting citizens. 

She remained successful, if the awkward glances by some people were not to be taken into consideration; she didn’t, after all, make them suspicious enough to pursue her. Remaining unnoticed until she reached a lake in a relatively secluded part of the city, she laid on the bare ground, resting her head on her folded arm, looking at her own reflection in the water. ‘Why am I like this?’ she thought to herself.

At the same time, there was a kind elderly woman in a red saree, adorning simple jewellery of the commoners, holding a basket full of flowers. Her large red bottu reminded her of Amma, and of the Mother Goddess in the temple. “Are you lost, child?”

Lalita sat up and cleared her throat. She did not want to admit that she had forgotten the way back to her residence. But she was confident that anyone would be able to guide her back to the palace. “No, um, not really… I was just thinking.”

“At this time of the night?”

Lalita shrugged.

“You know, it’s not safe for someone like you to be out here alone in the outskirts of the city.”

“Someone like me…?”

The woman chuckled and sat down next to Lalita. “Someone who appears too delicate to hold all the trouble I see in your eyes.”

Lalita chuckled too, in response, but her heart still felt heavy. “I am Lalita, after all.”

The woman moved closer and cupped Lalita’s cheek with her hand. “Then you also have the strength of the Mother of the Universe, little one. But you are only human, after all. You cannot be perfect all the time, can you?”

Lalita did not respond, but somehow the woman was able to understand the thoughts in her mind. ‘But I have to be. I cannot afford to be imperfect.’

“Even the mightiest river needs tributaries to sustain its flow, my dear. Seeking help is not a weakness. It is an act of courage.”

Lalita fell deep into thought. Before she could say anything, a familiar voice called her name out, rather angrily. “LALI!”

“I assume that is your mother?” She did not seem to recognise Sivagami as Rajamata. That was strange. Everyone in the city knew her face. Or perhaps… she recognised but… 

“Yes, that is,” Lalita stood up and faced Sivagami, bracing herself for the worst. 

“HAVE YOU GOT ANY IDEA—”

“There, there,” the elderly woman stepped close to Sivagami, placing a hand on her shoulder. “She is a good girl… she just needed to breathe.” There was something almost hypnotically calming in her voice. 

Lalita stepped forward, stumbling on… nothing. The truth was that she was absolutely exhausted and unwell, her condition worsened by her hunger. She noticed from the corner of her eye that Baahu stepped forward worriedly. Sivagami quickly caught her. “By Mahadeva! You’re burning up—”

Lalita wordlessly fell into Sivagami’s arms, loosely embracing her with whatever energy had left. Even she was surprised at how fatigue struck her so suddenly, like lightning. Or perhaps, the strong aura emanated from the presence of the woman earlier did not let her notice how tired she was.

Speaking of whom—where was she?

“Amma…? That woman…” her eyes closed of their own accord.

“She left, child… none of us saw where she went. Let us go, come on.”

Baahu held her left hand for additional support as Sivagami took her to the chariot. “Amma, I performed horribly in all the tests—”

“Shhh. You could have told me you were unwell, child. Next time something like this happens, let me know. You need not take so much stress.”

Lalita only rested her head against her mother’s shoulder—or was it Baahu’s?

“And we shall work on your schedule…” she did not hear what was said afterwards, succumbing to the grip of sleep.

“Lali,” Baahu shook her shoulder. “We’re here.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re home.”

Lalita blinked slowly. It was a few moments before all the memories came rushing back. “Oh…” 

She quickly lifted her head off his shoulder, wincing in pain. “Tch. Careful,” he rubbed the back of her neck. She saw Sivagami inform the rest of the ministers that she was back, safe and sound.

She was half-asleep even when they got to her room, not remembering the details of the walk from the gate to the palace. She laid on the bed with her head in Baahu’s lap. 

“I was worried sick, Lali,” he gently chided, stroking her hair. “Never do this again.”

“I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“The next time you have an issue and you don’t know whom to speak to or what to say, talk to me. You know I wouldn’t judge you right? I’ll always understand what you’re saying.”

Lalita silently nodded, guilty. She hated seeing Baahu in the slightest bit of pain.

“Do you promise?”

“I do.”

“As someone who worships Sri Rama, you better stick to it.”

Lalita smiled for the first time in that entire day. A real smile. “I will.”

“Good,” he stifled a yawn.

She shifted her head off his lap and tugged at his wrist. “Come on, you should rest too.”

He laid down next to her, snuggling his head into her shoulder.

‘Perhaps that’s how they slept when they were in their mother’s womb together,’ Sivagami wondered, not for the first time, as she stayed up all night to care for her sick daughter.

The world outside Mahishmati would always test their limits, she knew. But within these walls, they had each other—a bond that no trial could break.

Hope you enjoyed <3

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