“Someone who vouched for you so you can enter the temple and fulfill your mother’s last wishes.” Chandra raised her eyebrows at her. “Or should I mention this to the elder who took an exception to you?”
“No, don’t do that,” said Matangi, shaking her head, her eyes panicked.
Chandra stopped abruptly and rounded on the girl. “What does Veer mean by hiring the bandits to be part of this troop here? What is his plan?”
Matangi turned a deep red at the mention of Veer’s name.
“Oh! For heaven’s sake, stop blushing every time his name comes up,” said Chandra, rolling her eyes. “He is not even that handsome.”
“Don’t need to act so lofty. I’ve seen you watching him too,” said Matangi pouting.
“Yes, I have,” said Chandra, not bothering to deny what was true. “To see what he is up to.”
Matangi pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Methinks that is not the entire truth.”
“Whatever.” Chandra shrugged, her thoughts instead on Matangi and how tough her life must have been. No place to call home and separated, for the most part, from the only person she called kin. It was natural for her to attach herself to someone who looked like he could offer her protection, family, and stability. Veer had that look to him. No matter how much of a disguise he was in, there was no hiding that he came across like protector, a man who was capable of bearing burdens on his broad shoulders.
Matangi was an oddity, though. Women rarely lived a life on the road, out of the company of family in these parts. But the siblings had no one except each other, no parents or other relatives to take them in.
When Chandra had been working in secret in Amaravathi, she hadn’t given the bandits a second thought, other than to get rid of the pest they had become for her kingdom’s trade. Now she knew it was a little more complicated than that.
She was fascinated to learn most of them had occupations before they elected to join the bandits—farmers, cattle herds,and weavers. They were deserters from the kingdom of Thianvelli, fleeing from an oppressive regime.
Chandra and Matangi reached one part of the temple compound. Although it was the crack of dawn, a festive crowd of people from the surrounding villages and pilgrims from far-off places already milled about in the courtyard. Bright green banana trees complete with the overhang cluster of ripened fruit—said to represent prosperity—adorned the sides of every doorway.
Designs made from finely ground limestone decorated the black granite floor of the courtyard, their eye-popping color and intricate designs a testament to a girl’s skill.
The nutty smell of offerings made from ghee permeated the air, triggering memories of childhood delicacies.
The festival was only a few days away now, so preparations were going at a brisk pace. Several stone mortars were arranged on one side of the courtyard and women were pounding turmeric, needed in large quantities for the anointing of the idol.
They went to their assigned empty spot and joined the other women. Chandra raised her pestle—a long cylindrical wooden piece nearly the height of a grown man—its added heft made it easier to grind larger quantities needed for an occasion such as the annual festival. Matangi joined her with a similar pestle, smoothly segueing into the rhythm, alternating her strikes with Chandra’s.
Fine dust rose and spilled in a halo around the area, staining the bottom edge of sarees, a sunflower yellow.
Chandra became aware of the disgruntled expression still on Matangi’s face and asked, “What’s the matter, Matangi? Are you still upset that I didn’t allow you to steal? You can’t have it both ways, you know. If you want to be involved in temple duties and fulfill your mother’s wish, you need to give it up.”
“What do you care what I want?” she said, sulking.
Chandra was taken aback. A slow burn of annoyance began at the girl’s belligerence. “Speak plainly, Matangi,” she said sternly. “I am not a mind reader. I cannot know what is bothering you if you don’t tell me.”
Matangi responded to the authority in the voice. She reluctantly revealed the source of her distress. “My brotherand some of my friends are not allowed into the temple.” Her eyes wide with earnestness, she begged, “Please. Will lady ask Agrani for permission for them too?”
Chandra frowned, not breaking her rhythm. “You do realize we are strangers here. I can’t change the rules the people of this place have made.”
“But lady can ask…” pleaded Matangi.
“I have already called enough attention to myself. I can’t do more. I’m sorry.”
Matangi’s face twisted with disappointment that turned to anger. Her eyes glittered with tears.
“Spoken like a lady who never had to face this kind of rejection. You’ve done me no favor getting just one person permission to enter. My friends and brother think I am too big in the head when they see me in the temple, but they stay out.”
“I understand what you are saying…”
“Big lie!” Matangi cried. “How would lady understand what it feels like, to be a stranger among your own? How could you understand the looks the townspeople give me when they see my tattoos? They think I don’t have the right to expect decent things because I wasn’t born into the right caste.” Matangi’s eyes shone bright and she hiccupped, her voice choking. “Now my friends are angry and jealous that I am enjoying things that should belong to them, too, and I don’t know how to make right.”
Their pestles fell silent.
