This is a story inspired by Enchanted World’s story with the same title.

Mistress of Life

Abhra woke up early that day when the cuckoo was singing a joyful song. Her day would begin after the sun had been there for some hours in the sky. She wanted to get up early but her nights would not let her. Her nights were not her own. They had never been since she had turned sixteen three years back. Coming from a tradition of varanganas she had seen her mother her grandmother all and other woman around her selling their nights to buy their days.

The spring season was here with all the colors of the rainbow. The breeze, the wind had magic in the atmosphere. The earth was looking like a green beauty with spring soft leaves and tendrils all over the garden and the woods. The new leaves danced innocently in the cool breeze of the morning. The river flowed in all glory near the house and Abhra would go to the river in the morning to bathe.

So she decided to go to the river at this early hour and as she took out a blue anshuk [ dupatta ] to wrap herself to protect her from the cold breeze she tied her hair in a careless bun. Without any efforts to beautify herself she looked fresh like a bud innocent and child like, though she had lost her innocence long back. But her spirit, her essence was like a child untouched.

She made her way down the white marble steps. The night lamps were still burning near the corners. The shadows flickered with the flames. And the maids had not started there daily chores. She walked swiftly but silently not to make any noise and slipped out of the door. As she removed the silver chain the small beads on it broke into a melody. There house was all splendor as extremely rich people would visit the place. They had everything money could buy. From priceless jewels and pearls, sheer , soft silken fabrics. Colors of the seasons and of the morning and the night. The stars and suns to wear as ornaments dazzling to make them all look alluring and beautiful. The incense, soaps of barks of medicinal trees and the beauty routines to follow. The whole atmosphere in the house would have scents of chandan and aagru, aromatic herbs. There was splendor all around to be seen and felt. The baths were luxurious with scented waters and dancing fountains. The laughter and whispers of everyone made sweet musical background. There were negative and positive emotions mingling together with stiff competition for existence. It was a world of empty dreams where the realities of life were covered with beautiful delicate gauze of worldly luxuries. Where dreams were not born in the womb of night but life was lived as in dreams and the day dreams died every night.

Abhra walked outside the door and closed it behind her. She went down on the winding path to the river. The birds had woken up to the early magnificent morning where the sun was brightening the sides of those white fluffy balls of clouds. The gold dust all around made the darkness retreat. Abhra reached the river. It was flowing gently and peacefully. The white sand silt looked soft and felt cool under her feet. The nupurs on her feet made soft sounds. There was no one there, she had a bath and it was after some time when she reached her house.

She saw four white royal horses near her house. As she went inside she saw there some messengers from the King. She went softly towards the room where her mother and grandmother and other women were listening to what they were reading out.

They had a letter rolled on a stick.

‘His highness the king wants Abhra to come to the palace today at the time when the afternoon sleeps and the evening is still far. She is invited to take part in the celebrations of the wedding of the Princess. We the King and the queen invite her to come and bless the sacred thread and the black, golden beads and help and to make the wedding necklace.”

Abhra could not comprehend what was being said. She sat down on the wooden seat. They had finished the announcements and folded the letter.

‘So Abhra should reach the palace on time.’ One of them told her mother.

When they left Abhra asked about the whole thing.

"Abhra." Her grandmother said "You are invited to the palace for a very important ceremony at the Princess's wedding. You have to help and bless the black beads which form the mangalsutra of the Princess. Five varanganas are invited to do this. This is great honor."

‘Why Grandma?”   Abhra asked. "Because my dear child we are Akhandsaubhagyavatis."

‘Oh what does that mean…?”

"That means we always have a husband …lover we are never widows."

Abhra’s hand went to her lips in shock…."God and so we bless that sacred string of black beads to make the person wearing it become like us."

"Well not literally like us Abhra but she should have a long and happy married life and die before her husband."

"So you have to go to the Palace today in late afternoon. Get ready child groom yourself and carry yourself well. This is a rare honor.."

Abhra went to the inner chambers. She found out that some exquisite fabrics were laid out for her to choose, there were silks and cottons and sheer fragile delicate weaves in all colors she liked with ornaments to go with. This was not a ordinary outing this was an honor. The five varanganas were chosen by the Queen herself.

Abhra decided her dress she would wear pale blue and indigo and with it would wear the Neelmani necklace and bangles. The maids were there to help her get ready. They combed her hair and used some perfumed incense to make the tresses scented. The made her hair and added flowers to her plait. Flowers were a must .So the delicate Jasmines adorned her long black hair. They encircled as white delicate soft circles around her wrists. They made her face and decorated her hands and her feet with designs. Her hair had exquisite ornaments tucked softly. Her neck was bejeweled with the blue indigo necklace. Her feet had her nupurs which she had received when she became the bride of the whole city a nagarvadhu. And when she looked at the mirror when she was finally dressed up and she smiled to herself. The reflection stared back at her…a girl with soft features doe like eyes and a bright innocent face the Indigo colored anshuk gave her a mystical aura. As she stepped out of her room everyone stood to stare at how stunning she looked.

They looked at the young girl, the fascinating freshness of her face, her innocent poise and grace as she walked down the steps her anklets broke into musical notes and climbed the wooden plank of the royal chariot which was sent to pick her up. The yellow curtains fluttered and she wrapped her anshuk around her face. The horses sped towards the palace. Abhra sat inside deep in thought .The path went through deep woods and the spring flowers could be seen everywhere, the birds flew hither and thither on the backdrop of those infinite shades of the colour green.

She was visiting the Palace for the first time. How does a princess look like? she thought. …………And King and Queen

Abhra had no father . Her mother had not told her about him and with the way of life she hardly wanted to. The normal family relations were not for them They were mistresses ….of whom. A smile touched her lips. Abhra’s mother had given her good education, she knew the sacred texts, the musical instruments, she sang and danced like an angel. Her voice was so sweet that if you heard it in the morning you would feel that the rays of the early morning sun were dancing on the tune.

She was Acharyaji's favourite student. She was well read and could speak very well in religious debate.

The horses had gathered speed and Abhra looked outside they were nearing the palace. The passing landscape raced as her thoughts in her mind. The afternoon was waiting for the evening on the sky. The chariot stopped and she got down and was welcomed and taken inside the palace. As she stepped inside the majestic structure she could see the lavish splendor of royalty. Abhra herself was used to riches but this was something else. The king was a noble person and people obeyed and respected him. Abhra went inside through many doors and curtains. Finally she reached the princesses chambers. There were many women inside. The atmosphere of a wedding was intoxicating. There was rustle of beautiful clothes and colors swam in front of your eyes as bangles and anklets and other ornaments made soft sweet music.

Abhra entered the room and saw four varanganas already sitting on small carved seats. The Queen welcomed her and she too sat on one seat. Some one enquired about her journey. Abhra replied but her eyes were searching the Princess. She had heard a lot about. And then she saw her

Princess …..came walking gracefully with her friends and some one brought big silver plates of black beads and gold pearls There were gold threads. The ceremony started the five varanganas took the beads the golden and the black and put them through the golden thread. There were some mantras recited by the women and as they finished flowers were showered on them. The varanganas then were given some gifts with utmost respect. Abhra was taking part in the ceremony but her mind was wandering. How did it feel to marry?” she thought.

She looked at the Princess how lucky she was to have someone of her own. Abhra can never dream of marriage of love…yes love she could but in her profession she was sure to get lust then love. Oh! Do we need the riches…riches that could be seen or the unseen treasures were more priceless. Why are some blessed with everything?”

Abhra was confused. The sacred texts were they to be believed….or.....She sat through that evening and then it was time for her to leave.

As she went through that journey back home, her mind was involved in the mazes   of some disturbing thoughts. She decided to go to the temple and meet Acharyaji.

She asked the Saarthi to take her towards the temple. As they approached they could hear the chimes of temple bells resonating in the evening atmosphere. The echoes filled her with an unknown longing.

She alighted from the chariot and walked towards Acharyaji’s abode. It was a simple mud house with small diya outside near the tulsi plant Guruma Acharayji’s wife was a pious lady. She had a calm face where you could almost read the peace of the sacred mantras.

She saw Abhra coming towards the house.

"Abhra…child …’ though she was surprised to see her at this hour she welcomed her.

“Acharyaji is in meditation. He will be happy to meet you. Will you wait?"

 So, Abhra sat on the wooded swing nearby and closed her eyes. The evening was turning into night and the stars had started twinkling through to black gauze. The fragrance of jasmine and other flowers filled her senses….The to and fro of the swing created a rhythm where her thoughts too wandered through her mind. The life we get and the life we want ..thought Abhra why is there a chasm in between?......the swing of life too goes through hope and hopelessness....