Kama: Liberation (Vol-I)

Chapter 17: Grief and Guild

A brother is the second father to his sister, the shade of a banyan to a little wildflower.

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However hard he tried to calm down and forget, Rudra just couldn't. He closed his eyes and exhaled. Does the morning ever bring darkness with it? Yes, it does.

His love story remained untold, incomplete, witnesses of passion forced to keep mum by time.

He had to come to terms with the fact that Petra would never return back. It had been sixteen years since her demise. Since then, every spring felt as barren as winter and every meagre rain pricked his thick skin. The son of Shiva had given up on Shiva; his inner lover was upset that no one tried to empathise with his situation. Days and nights he used to cry in a corner of the palace, praying to Shiva that he may return her to him, or at least come with a promise of her return. At least appear before before him.

Shiva never came. Turning a blind eye to all of Rudra's pleadings, he meditated atop Kailash. Rudra moved on in life. Now, it didn't matter to him that Shiva was selective with his devotees. He understood the nature of gods– they were imperfect beings pressured into masquerading as magnanimous entities of bloated powers. They were also subjected to sins.

So, Rudra took it upon himself to avenge Petra.

"I know you are somewhere. You may have already been born. Perhaps as a little boy yearning to be a warrior, or maybe a little sparrow hopping on terraces. Maybe a little girl, just like you were, enjoying the love of your family." A lone tear trickled down his cheeks. "Wherever you are, Petra, come to me, at least once. I want to see you happy. May you get a good companion in this life, a lovely family and all the luxuries of spirituality. May Shiva love you this time. May you be God's favourite child." He raised his hand in the abhaya mudra, never realising that someone was silently watching him from behind. Fortunately, his murmurs were unheard by the intruder, who was enraptured by his saintly gesture.

"Rajan?" they called. Rudra was awoken suddenly, coming out of his delicate bubble. He turned back. It was Indumala.

She came and stood beside him. As he was sitting on a chair, it was easier for her to now be at par with him. He was really tall and she was a short woman. "How are you now?"

Rudra didn't understand what she was intending to say.

Indumala lowered her voice to a soft whisper. "I am sorry for going towards the forbidden room last night. I didn't want to leave you. I knew you were troubled and sad."

Rudra's eyes landed on her cherry lips. The smell of palash wafted to his nose.

He could not deny the fact that she was beautiful. The bounce of her open locks and the glimmering pair of doe eyes painted her as some apsara. There was concern in her gaze. Her brows were curved just above the start of her nose.

Rudra held his head. It spun.

"I know you are very angry because I saw you crying, but trust me, adults do cry. I saw Baba cry too. You are no different." She gulped down, and very carefully touched his head. "Your crown is hot. Maybe you have a fever or it's the stress. Call a doctor."

It was after a long time that someone told Rudra he could cry, someone showed that they cared for him. She caressed his head gently as he closed his eyes and gave in. He didn't have to be rude and rogue all the time. He could be tender and sentimental, as he was now. "Is that a palash-infused perfume?" he asked. Petra loved to use that too, though it wasn't her most favourite.