The Rabbit of the Mind
Four years had passed somewhat pleasantly, all things considered. Satyam and his poppy seed tinctures had provided a great deal of relief for the young girl, now fully a teenager. Sruti would, on occasion, encounter those horrid nightmares again. Satyam would simply increase her dosage and her peace would continue.
On the rare occasion that Satyam was delayed in preparing the mixture for her, though, her symptoms were worse than before. The nightmares, voices, and hallucinations would return. And with them, a whole host of physical symptoms as well: shaking, sweating, shivering, and nausea, to name a few.
At lunch with the doctor one day, she mentioned it. He’d been preparing to head off to the villages at the Purvan border—some pox to be fought.
“Do you think you could teach me how to make the tinctures myself?”
He raised his eyebrow. “No.”
They both waited for the other to continue. He broke the silence. “It’s best I administer them. They can be dangerous.”
She scowled and continued eating. After a moment, Satyam asked, “Why?”
“I only want to be able to make them when you are gone,” she said. “It’s torture going without them.”
Satyam softened. “I know, golden girl, I know.” He sighed.
Sruti could sense a weakening target. She took the opportunity to explain her new physical symptoms. How her own body was turning against her. How she would jitter in anticipation for relief whenever he was returned from a trip. It did not have the intended effect.
Satyam’s eyes widened, he started blinking heavily, and his eyelashes began to subtly collect water, like dew forming upon blades of grass on a crisp morning. Could she have developed an addiction? Was he responsible for poisoning the young daughter of his beloved absent friends? An unbearable thought.
He took a breath. She needed to be cut off. But this would be difficult. “Sruti, I fear these long years of treatment have only fed the rabbit of your mind. Like the hares we see running from the dogs in our gardens and burrowing amongst the bushes, your mind fidgets, buffeted by winds of anxiety and fear. Random and uncontrollable movements towards temporal pleasure and away from pain. A prey-instinct. I apologize if I have nurtured that in you. I suppose my weakness is seeing you in pain. In that sense I am a rabbit as well. But no daughter of a rishi will remain one. You need to bring a stillness to your mind, like pure water. And you cannot do that with the poppy seed tinctures.”
Sruti slowly closed her eyes, taking in this latest blow.
“I’m sorry,” Satyam said. “This is for the best.”
She said nothing. When she opened her eyes again, she looked numb, as though she had departed her own body. She took one last bite of her food and left without saying another word.
Satyam feared he had only made it worse.
* * *
In the days after the kindly doctor departed, Sruti seemed an especially strange girl to nosy courtiers. She’d be out late all the time. Of course, there was nothing inherently wrong with taking late night walks, if one’s disposition called for some reflection, or if insomnia stalked one’s sleeping hours.
But Sruti wasn’t ever really walking. She would loiter at various common places, sometimes the pasture near the Kammas’ farm. Other times, the park adjacent to the Aiyers’ manor. And she wasn’t friends with the girls who lived there either. No, she would just pick a spot, and do nothing. Hit trees with sticks. Kick dandelions. Skip rocks on lakes.
Night workers were always bemused by this behavior. Whatever. Sruti was an odd bird. After losing her parents at such a young age, one could excuse her strange quirks. That’s probably why Jai had been bringing her along as a lookout these past few days.
Today it was the Bhagwatis’ daughter.
Jai had met the girl that very day, at the annual Festival of Lights held in the palace. Jai hit on her near the glittering display of oil lamps and the poor girl melted.
They stole away from the party early. And now the two of them were burrowed away in her home doing Gods know what, while Sruti stood guard. Sruti shuddered to imagine what the Acharya would say about how Jai had spent his Deepavali.
Sruti perked up. She could hear the faint clatter of hooves in the distance and thought it strange. The celebration was set to go all night and through the morning. Who among the nobility would risk offending the King by taking their carriage home early? Sruti had a sinking feeling that the Gods had conspired precisely to make her life more difficult.
No doubt the Bhagwatis had noticed their daughter was missing and politely but firmly excused themselves from the celebration. Sruti had told him that Deepavali was a horrible time to do this, but she had not wanted to put too fine a point on it, because she really did want the distraction. No poppy. She needed something to occupy her time. And her mind.
Sruti took a breath and relaxed. Then she loudly began to sing in Old Deccan, projecting the way she had been taught by her classical singing teacher. Her voice was exquisite, deploying rapid patterns of notes that were pinpoint accurate. And those listening with knowledge of the ancient language would be struck by the beautiful, devotional lyrics.
“Worship the Gods, worship the Gods,
Worship the Gods, oh deluded one!
If you delay, at the time of your death,
You will not escape this mortal plane!”
She continued to sing even as the Bhagwatis’ carriage appeared at the top of the hill.
Inside the house, Jai untangled himself from the girl. Why was Sruti singing devotional music now? It was completely killing the mood. And to be honest, this wasn’t even her best rendition. Her emphasis was all over the place.
The girl … what was her name… looked confused too. “If you delay, you will not escape?…”
“Oh you know Old Deccan too? Yeah I don’t know why she’s emphasizing that.”
“If you delay, you will not escape! Your Highness, she is trying to tell you something! My parents are probably on their way!”
Jai cursed, scrambled to gather his clothes, and rushed out to the balcony to check outside. Her parents’ carriage was just arriving at the front of the house. He rushed to the girl’s bathroom, which had a window on the side of the house facing the public gardens.
Sruti had continued to sing as the carriage had passed the gardens and carried on to the Bhagwatis’ home. She had imagined that the two nobles were a bit confused as to her presence in the gardens, rather than in the palace, and her loud and somewhat erratic, though still beautiful, singing.
Just when she began to give up hope that Jai picked up on her message, she saw him shimmy out of a side window, and clamber down a lattice of green vines that had claimed that side of the house. Just in time, as the Bhagwatis had just entered their home and began calling for their daughter. Sruti could not fully make out her indistinct response, but she did definitely hear the word “period.” Smart girl. She was using to her advantage the stupid tradition that women were not allowed to attend holy festivals or temples while menstruating. There would be no further questions from her parents.
She transitioned to the wrap-up verse of the song, for which she picked up the tempo. She then made her way to the far side of the park, where Jai’s horse had been patiently waiting. In the distance she saw Jai leap over the garden fence and run to her. They burst out in laughter, from the pent up anxiety, from the shared shenanigans. He climbed his horse and pulled her up to sit behind him.
He flicked the reins and they were off, running through the forest rather than on the road to avoid anybody being able to place them near the Bhagwatis’ house together. But that meant it was a bumpy ride. Sruti clung to Jai and rested her face on his back. After a few moments, she slowly closed her eyes. He felt the young girl’s warmth behind him, feeling a deeper and profound longing than any superficial desire he’d ever experienced. The one person who seemed to view him as a simple distraction. Like he viewed all the other girls. What perverse game was he playing? Bringing her along to witness his exploits. Perhaps he secretly hoped she’d get jealous. But she never would. Something more important weighed on her at all hours, he could tell. If she would only share her burden with him.
They arrived at the palace. He dismounted and pulled her off after him. After sharing a quick goodbye, she returned to her room, a small suite down the hall from Maya. Exhausted, she flopped into bed.
She enjoyed her time with the Prince. Alone again, the world became chaos. What was she doing, helping the Prince seduce young girls? Break hearts, shirk his responsibilities, do sin. Betray her King?
She needed company. She needed a distraction, a salve, a relief. Something to slam cotton onto her brain.
Poppy, that panacea. That substance was the answer to every question. It fed her. It loved her. It saved her. Ah, poppy! Satyam stole it from her! That monster had condemned her to torture and offered moronic platitudes about rodents as recompense. Some friend he was! May he be skinned alive. May he roast in the fires of hell. When next she saw him she would unflinchingly bury a knife in his neck. In and out. In and out. Again and again and again. Until she mesmerized herself with the sounds of his viscera spilling when she cut him open. A beautiful melody that signified the end of this man who took her only joy.
She shivered in fear. At herself. Who was she? How could she think such disgusting thoughts? Satyam who more than anyone loved her honestly.
She could not quite place when, but life had become something that just happened to her. As if she were a passive observer. Like one of the King’s pet scientists observing some newly discovered little creature. “Interesting. Fascinating.”
When she got existential like this she always began to cry. Not heavy sobs, but just tears leaking from her face, like condensation on her tinted bedroom window. She didn’t even feel sad—just numb. But clearly her eyes felt differently. To distract herself she ran through her to-do list for tomorrow. Head down, practical. That’s what she was good at. That’s what people appreciated from her.
