6

‘I hope everything is arranged for the concert?’ Saahas cocked an eyebrow at Lushai. ‘The General of Swarus is the guest of honour, and remember his instruction—no lamps must be lit tonight.’

Lushai bustled away to closely supervise a group of soldiers set up the stage. Their carefree banter soon lightened his naturally morose expression and he joined in, giving them a helping hand. ‘We hope this concert is the first of many,’ they said to him.

‘What!’ Lushai exclaimed in mock horror. ‘You want the general and the brigade stationed here forever?’ Then he added gruffly, ‘This is the longest we have stayed in any outpost. Just the other day, the general says to me, “I used to worry for the east command, Lushai. The soldiers here are as friendly as puppies. But ever since I got acquainted with our neighbour, I feel easy.”’

A soldier laughed, waving towards the border. ‘Can you hear it? Music plays in Swarus day in and day out. It can never think of attacking us.’

‘Attack us?’ Another looked around in disbelief. ‘Why do you think the border wall is so low? The soldiers of Swarus are like our brothers!’

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ Lushai agreed, his voice testy. ‘I’ve spent many a sleepless night with you all yodelling like howling dogs.’

The soldiers darted sly glances at each other, ‘The two generals sing the loudest at these sessions.’

Lushai ducked his head, hiding a smile, ‘No more chatter,’ he scolded. ‘Back to work now. Tonight is special. The Swarus general has promised us some magic!’

In the twilight, Amsha’s willowy form sparkled with jewels, his beringed fingers clasping a strange instrument made up of many slender flutes, short and long, all wired together. Blowing softly into it, he released a plaintive note, allowing it to hover over the unlit lamps. The drooping wicks straightened. In quick succession, more notes streamed out, of such glorious perfection that Saahas felt the hair rise on his arms. The wicks began to crackle and then all at once, burst into flames, flooding the stage with light. The east command jumped to its feet, whistling and cheering wildly.

‘You have created a big problem for me,’ Saahas jokingly told his guest over dinner. ‘Soldiers from the other outposts will soon be clamouring for a transfer to the east.’

Amsha laughed, the sound just like the tinkling of bells. ‘Tell me, how is King Vasuket?’

Saahas shook his head, ‘There is no news from the palace.’

‘Doesn’t that worry you?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Amsha considered his host, ‘When were you last in Sundernagari?’

‘Almost three years ago.’

‘You should visit it more often, my friend. Perhaps there are other forces at play. Power is capricious and it wastes no time in switching loyalties.’

Later that night, Saahas strolled under the stars, occasionally stopping to pick up a stone and fling it into the darkness beyond.

‘I think General Amsha’s advice has him worried,’ Tota remarked to Lushai.

The manservant watched his master with a fond eye. ‘Being alone is what he likes best. It helps him think.’

Returning soon, Saahas threw himself down beside Tota. ‘I’ve stayed away from Sundernagari because of all the painful memories, but speaking to Amsha today made me realize how much I miss the king.’

‘Perhaps, you could pay him a short visit, sire. That will set your mind at ease.’

Two weeks later, on a delightful spring day, Saahas intercepted the king’s steward and whispered a few urgent words in his ear while slipping a handful of gold coins into his pocket.

‘And this brings us to the end of the last six years,’ Destiny says, taking us back to the present, to Vasuket sitting dazed in the bright sunshine, just as we had left him.

Saahas halted on the step of the sunken garden, the king’s frail appearance taking his breath away. Half asleep, Vasuket slumped against the cushions, melancholia clinging to him with the tenacity of a leech, sucking him dry of his vitality. Hiding his dismay, Saahas greeted Vasuket in a cheerful voice, ‘Your Majesty, forgive me for disturbing your rest.’

Rousing himself into a sitting position, Vasuket saw a familiar silhouette, ‘Megha! Is that you, my friend?’

Saahas’s throat constricted, ‘It is his son, Your Majesty, and your general.’

‘Dreamer-Warrior,’ Vasuket mumbled. ‘Megha was so upset when you ran away.’ He shook his head, as if to clear it. Catching hold of Saahas’s hand in his thin one, he longingly searched the young man’s face. ‘So much of your father in you and yet, you are your mother’s boy.’ After a moment’s silence, he murmured, ‘I don’t know what stops me from joining them all, my family, Meghabhuti. I have nothing to live for.’

‘You have a very good reason, Your Majesty! Have you forgotten that today is the fifteenth day of spring?’

‘You mean the spring festival?’

‘Why yes, Your Majesty, it is the day my father and you went out riding together into the city, the day Sundernagari decks itself in flowers, waiting for you, their king, to judge the prettiest house. You and my father always disagreed on the winner,’ Saahas laughed.

A faint smile brightened Vasuket’s sad eyes. ‘Do my people wait for me?’ he asked, his voice wistful. Saahas nodded. Vasuket hesitated, then shook his head, ‘I am a sad, old man. I would only dampen their cheer.’

Saahas returned home and announced to Lushai, ‘Prepare for a long stay in Sundernagari.’

The next day, to the steward’s delighted surprise, Saahas slipped more coins into his pocket. Vasuket’s breakfast was once again arranged in the garden, and once again Saahas recounted tales of the past, the many practical jokes played by the king on his dignified father. Vasuket smiled, just a bit at first, but one morning, after weeks of pocketing gold coins, the steward was startled by a hearty guffaw. He quickly retraced his steps to the garden, his eyes widening in astonishment.

‘His Majesty is laughing!’

As the days sped past, the steward noticed the king step eagerly into the garden, waiting impatiently for the general’s arrival. The leech of melancholy had begun to loosen its hold, shrivelling in the presence of lively cheer. And soon after, on one sunny morning, Vasuket stepped out of the palace in Saahas’s company.

‘It is His Majesty, and the general,’ exclaimed a teacher, pointing out the royal carriage to his class. ‘Our king has returned to us! This spring is indeed special!’

Vasuket smiled. Yes, this time it would be a long spring in Aum.