[Chapter 3]
The Making of a Goddess
She was fumbling with her keys, struggling to take a step toward the blinking lights of her car.
"Your Majesty, Queen Jodha"
She heard people frantically call after her but her body did not carry enough strength to answer them. Her vocal cords were shutting down like a weight pressing them closed. She reached out for the front door and jumped into her car. People were knocking on the windows left and right so she turned on the soundproofing mechanism and blasted the most unpleasant sounding metal music. The help stood with their ears covered trying to lure her our of the car. But her breathing was running a mile a minute. She couldn't keep up with her pacing heart. The air in the palace was so stuffy she turned up the air conditioning at max and zoned out.
She was climbing a mountain, sweaty, exhausted, spent from hours of effort under the blazing sun. She finally reached the summit. One final jump and there she was- on the edge of the earth looking down. "I love the whole world". She screamed till her voice filled the cold air with echoes.
Miles Davis was playing on the car radio and Jane was kissing her in the backseat- her first and only girlfriend. Their love was the stuff that dreams are made of. Soft kisses and rough love. Most of all, Jane gave Jodha what a man never could- respect. Their relationship lasted a total of four years until duty called and Jodha knew she had to drop everything important in her life back in the US and move back to the monarchy.
She was a proud bisexual beauty and she'd never hidden her preferences from family or friends. Even so, she always knew she was going to marry a man, and not just any man, the future king of her country.
She remembered the good old days again, the days when she was allowed a crooked laugh: an instance not too long before Jalal's coronation. Her father had summoned her to personally greet the crown prince at the airport.
"This is his first time landing on a public runway. We want to make sure he feels secure. You are not to leave his side. You are to take every dart, sword or bullet in the prince's way. Am I understood?"
She remembered being cynical and condescending of her father's third person greetings . Ironically enough, she had to later undertake a full year curriculum to learn the same language she once despised.
As she stood in line waiting to meet the prince with his supposed charm, she was often distracted by her brother shuffling her precious electronic collection of jazz records.
"What in the bloody hell is your problem Kesh? If you dare lose my Bitches Brew I will cut you up, chop you into little pieces and feed them to vultures".
She was furious at her abnormally tall brother playing with her iPod.
"You might want to look for the prince instead".
"The prince, my foot. You give my iPod back this second or else".
"Or else?", an unfamiliar voice and a sharp tap on her shoulder startled Jodha enough to involuntarily swing at the human right behind her. Thankfully, the prince had trained enough to duck the attack. An extremely apologetic Jodha was pinned down by his bodyguards only to be released a minute later.
"A woman with a loose tongue is rare to find around here", he ruffled her dirtied clothes and put his arm around the teenage brother, displaying unexpected closeness.
"So bro, what have you been up to?" Jodha tried his hand at slang.
"I've got to go", the absolutely terrified Kesh left his sister alone to deal with a man still stuck in the '90s.
"I apologize. He is yet to receive his royal manners training".
She took a bow on behalf her haste brother who had run out confused.
"He is raw, I like that".
"Your Royal Highness, please accept my heartfelt apology for what I said earlier. I was in the wrong, I should not have brought distractions along".
"No, that's alright. My otherwise boring trip is now entertaining".
She nodded, not wanting to extend the seemingly awkward exchange of words. After passing three rounds of security and canine inspections, the crown prince was finally left alone in the company of the President's daughter.
"Heard you swing it both ways?"
The crown prince smoking a joint and inquiring about her sexuality was unexpected but she braced herself.
"I am sorry my grace. I don't understand your question".
"What I am saying is how about you blow me tonight? Your girlfriend can join in if she's into me".
Oh bloody hell! If this were Kansas, this f**ker was going to town. She would cracked beer bottle over his skull and send him rolling by now.
"You are right about me swinging kid", she changed her tone to copy his. "I'll f**k anything with two legs but it's gotta have a brain. And as far as I am concerned, you ain't got one so f**k off or I'll f**k you sideways. Son of a..."
He looked at her wide eyed like he'd seen a ghost. She ruffled his collar and whispered, "I know the crown prince never dreamed of marrying a commoner when he's got a supermodel girlfriend at home. But, you're stuck with me anyway. So, saddle up kid! If you want me to forget this ever happened, don't mention your condescending sexual fantasies to me again, understand?"
The next day, both the future king and queen were back to being proper kids that their parents raised them to be, hiding their rebellion in a deep place within. They never talked about what happened but both watched the other turn into the sophisticated adults they were today. He became the almighty untrusting, cold king and she became straight faced diplomat who would not laugh or cry no matter what trick you threw her way . Professionally, they were the A-team keeping the nation afloat but behind closed doors things never became intimate. He never visited her residence until today.
Our King was getting restless with every passing minute. He had not run into the Queen since their last fall out. May be he said too much, may be not enough, may be not the right words. He was dissecting, evaluating and critiquing every word that had escaped his mouth. The woman got a reaction out of him at a time when he thought he had lost emotionality. She made him feel passionate even if to contradict her views. He needed to talk to her; he needed to get his answers. More importantly, he needed to apologize if he were to get an inch of sleep out of this day's hour glass.
He decided to make a personal effort to search all the rooms the queen frequented, not that he knew much about her likes. Twenty minutes of exhausting walks later, he decided to save his last sip of energy for the talking and ordered a maid to do the searching.
She quickly returned with news, though her tone did not give away any hints of what awaited him. He prepared himself for the inevitable and followed the servant's directions.
"Your majesty, the queen is in the hammam. Are you certain you wish to go in?"
"Come again?"
As well read as Jalal was, he had never heard of a hammam. What strange contraption was this?
"The spa", the woman looked him up and down as if trying to rate his mental health.
He was not about to let a maid servant question his actions. So, he quickly refuted her seeming silliness.
"She is my wife and this is pressing. Tell the occupants the King has ordered he be left alone with his queen".
As he entered the bath house, serenity from the high heavens bestowed upon him. His castles were beautiful with aesthetics pleasing to even the most critical of eyes. But this, this was other worldly. The pleasure was in the nothingness, the calm in the white and music in the flow of pearl drops of water. His stiff, rock hard steps unknowingly loosened their grip on the marble floors.
As his eyes searched for the heat of another being, he felt his body exuberate radiation. His crammed apologies and story book speeches washed away along with the seeping perspiration of his pores. At last, he detected movement. His instincts followed the scent that was now pheromonal.
There lay a mystic beauty, one with the awe around her. Her waistline was unintentionally covered in virgin white cotton; the intricate threading was only fitted for a carved frame like hers. For the first time, he absorbed in her features. The golden long legs shimmered in dancing sunlight as Jodha shifted side to side, lost in dreamland.
Five minutes passed in nightly silence until his thoughts stumbled back to consciousness. The king was here to deliver a formal apology. But, the heat in the air had made him lose focus. He had selectively adored his queen's pair of blessings but managed to look past an open brassiere airing out on high hanging drying line. The awareness hit him hard in the head as realized he had seen his woman naked without her consent.
The next few seconds would be crucial ones. He had only two choices. One, to stay in the hammam and face come what may. Two, to leave and try his damndest to repress the incident into his unconscious.
However, like most other times, life did not offer him a choice. Just as the fateful day of his forced coronation, Jodha woke up before Jalal could make a decision.
Her slow, twitching eyes opened up to the gaze of a handsome man. Within seconds, her hands were covering her bosoms and a one meter cotton sheet was stretched out to capacity, doing more favours than it was designed to do.
"My King", an unwanted greeting escaped her mouth. What she really wanted to do was to curse him out but, the royal sophistication was so engrained in her humor, it was impossible to isolate the two.
Jalal looked away in shame.
"I am very apologetic. When the servant said spa, I thought she meant...I didn't know. This was not on purpose. I..."
"You are my husband".
Her majesty did not contemplate the impact of her words until they were out in the open.
"May I ask the reason for your visit?" She spoke casually as he passed her a longer towel.
He almost mustered up the courage to spill what his mind held captive.
"About yesterday..." a long pause ensued.
She broke the silence with words that could not be taken back with all the force of the universe:
"Aap ne badi aasaani se keh diya gaddaar tha, hum ne apna haq jo nahi maanga. Jis din mein baagi ho gayi sarkaar, aap ka mahal, mahal nahi rahega".
(Loose translation, not word for word: You called us out like traitors with one roll of the tongue. Perhaps because I have not ever exercised my rights. The day I turn a rebel sir, I will take the kingdom down with me).
She pulled out her formal attire and left the King in the company of his many regrets.
P.S. hammam translates to bath house. But calling it that is an understatement. You have got to see it to believe it.
(feeling the heat of the exams on my neck so breaking my resolution of an April update with an early hello)
Fan Fictions
Cricket
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