The Dharma Raja leaned against a tall poplar, his thumb worrying at his lower lip. Once, I might have thought it was a contemplative gesture. Now, I recognized it as mischief.
“Before, you seemed quite determined to change every mind of the Otherworld. I recall you making a very impassioned speech about only having the ability to tell a story with a voice. Now how will you change the world without a piece of fruit?”
Teasing fool. I twisted my hand and a tiny river pebble soared to his head. He dodged it with a lazy swipe of his hand. And then he tossed it back to me, only this time it became a stone bird that hopped across my shoulder before collapsing into smoke.
“I learned a new way of storytelling,” I said primly.
“I noticed,” he said, nodding at the grove.
Over the past weeks, I had changed things. The orchard had fallen to neglect, but I had tied its silver boughs and strung a net of pearls between the trees. Ruined, dark things squirmed in the net. Caught nightmares. The other week, I had coaxed a well to hollow out the earth. The Dharma Raja sensed it for he leaned his ear toward the direction, as if he could hear all the things whispered in the water—good portents and well wishes. In the well’s reflection, the stars churned and pinwheeled above, never keeping the same shape. I hoped that it would remind people who drank from its water not to believe in the first thing they saw.
“I was wondering when you’d come to realize this,” he said. “Most storytellers are already familiar with this tenet.”
“And that is?”
He moved toward me gracefully.
“That the best story is shown. Not told.” He grinned. “I could’ve told you that. I’ve been practicing that for years.”
He was right. It both delighted and annoyed me to no end. I wanted to make a difference, to be seen as more than I was. All this time, I had been so caught up in what the Otherworld thought. I had lost so much time trying to push my thoughts and self onto them, but it made no difference because they were just words without meaning. If I made the Dharma Raja see the world differently, then he let me see myself differently. I was enough unto myself. I would not let myself be held back by what anyone thought. And that was what I wanted to coax into life with these dream wells. I wanted someone to look inside of them and see something else. It was different from dream fruit because it knew it had no desire to last beyond the veil of sleep. It was simply an idea. Anudge.
“You could have advised me from the beginning to show more and tell less.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Would you have listened?”
“I would’ve very convincingly pretended.”
He laughed. And I caught his laugh in a kiss.
***
A week beforeTeej,Nritti and I sat side by side—as we always had—our feet scraping at the bottom of the river, toes digging into the bank in search of gold. Ever since I stopped going to the Night Bazaar, she would find me here in the red hours betweensunset and true night. Sometimes, Vanaj would come with her and then the three of us would playshatranj—Nritti and Vanaj on one side, me on the other. Most of the time I lost, but I felt like I was winning every time Nritti laughed or grinned. Today, she was doing both, even though Vanaj could not visit with her this dusk.
“You’re glowing with love,” I teased. “It’s beginning to hurt my eyes.”
She laughed, and the bells strung through her braid shook with mirth. “There’s that viper tongue. I was wondering where it went. You’re so…kindaround Vanaj.”
“It’s only for your sake. I had to provide one wonderful thing about you. Me. There’s not much reason to like you, what with your horrific looks and grating voice.”
Nritti gracefully fluttered her hand. “You are most merciful.”
“And beautiful,” I added.
“And beautiful.”
“And charming.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
I laughed. “So. Where is your smitten lover?”
Nritti blushed.
“There’s something I want to show you,” she said, hesitantly. She drew out a delicate golden necklace strung together with black beads. I breathed in sharply. Amangalsutra.It was the piece of jewelry that defined a married woman. “We pledged ourselves to one another in thegandharvatradition. He went to ask Lord Indra if he could take me away from the court.”
I think she knew all that I couldn’t say because she reached for my hand. As always, I was struck by our differences. Already, the red of sunset had begun to peel back… revealing rose-tinted smokesky and rain-cloud skin. Hers was the sun as seen through water, an Otherworld dream of gold and light. But our differences were only in looks. I felt her heartbeat pulse against my skin. And I knew that no matter what changes would come, we would always be sisters.
“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered.
