BAM!

  An ear-piercing sound of a slap reverberated through the galleries. Alarmed, several guards stationed nearby scurried towards the scene, only to find a fuming King glaring at a man whose hand lay firmly on a half-drawn scimitar. His gaze was riveted unto His Majesty's feet.

  The guards couldn't gauge the sex of the warrior standing in front of the monarch. The warrior had a rather prominent chest, crimson cheeks, and an aura of suppressed tenderness. Something or the other about this person seemed out of place.

  "SHAME ON YOU! You dare defy your father's orders!"

  "Father, I--"

  "SHUT UP! I am not here to listen to your concocted stories, much less interested in hearing how you dared to disobey an irrevocable command of your father. Have you no morals?"

  "Father, I...I was just practising with the sword,"

  "Just?! JUST?! Good heavens! Behold, behold my esteemed ancestors! Behold the shame my daughter brings unto thee!"

  "Father, I was simply learning how to use a weapon."

  "That is the entire point, you imbecile! You are a girl. You are not meant to taint your beauty with things as rough as weapons!"

  The "warrior" mumbled My sex makes no difference under "his" breath.

  "And not only that! What is this that you wear? Where is your lehenga? Where lies your chunari? These are men's clothes!"

  At this particular remark, the girl's ears straightened up and she shot a soul-piercing glare at the furious figure in front of her. The King, erstwhile irate, was momentarily stunned at the pair of defiant eyes gazing upon him, and involuntarily took a step back.

  "Father, pardon my insolence; I fail to see how what I wear defines what my sex is."

  With this curt reply, the princess threw the scabbard to the floor. She glanced at her father again, this time with fiery red eyes. The king shifted uneasily under her gaze, which made the princess smirk. It was amusing to see her father intimidated.

  As she was leaving, she heard a faint murmur along the lines of I should have married her off, but it did not bother her. She was accustomed to threats of "being married off".

  Marriage was something the young princess was not keen on. She couldn't bring herself to accept the idea of being subservient to some old, dilapidated lady who would call herself her "mother-in-law." She was quite used to her own ways, whims, and fantasies. The prospect of suddenly becoming subservient to unknown men and women—especially to some arrogant man who would call himself her husband—was antithetical to her free-spirited temperament.

  As she was walking through the gallery, her eyes met those of Kamayani's, and a tender smile lit up her tense face.

  "What are you looking at, Kamayani?"

  "I-I was learning how to sew when all of a sudden I heard an ear-splitting noise-"

  Kamayani looked at her cousin's face. Her cheeks had a faint imprint of someone's palm.

  "Didi, did-did someone hit you?!"

  "No; I was practising physical combat with Anu bhaijaan. He must have given me, um, a sharp blow," said she, grinning to herself. She didn't want to make her younger, way more emotionally fragile cousin anxious.

  "Why do you like fighting so much, Alka? You have always liked activities men are supposed to do!"

  "Hey, I am just learning how to defend myself. I do not wish to see somebody else standing up for me; I'm not weak, and I will prove it!"

  Kamayani scanned her cousin thoroughly. She is strange, thought she. Alaknanda wasn't like other women Kamayani had met. She had always preferred wearing men's clothing and frowned on having to keep long hair. She only applied the bindi when forced to by her controlling mother, but would often get away with her idiosyncrasies due to the intervention of her elder brother, the Crown Prince Aniruddh. The prince was really close to Alka and shared her ideology of breaking traditional gender roles, himself often sneaking into the royal kitchens to learn how to cook a dish or two. Under his tutelage, Alka had learned horseriding, sword-fighting and could even use the bow and arrow.

  Kamayani thought for a moment about her unorthodox cousin. She began comparing their thoughts and desires. Whereas she was always riveted unto the handsome face of her to-be husband, her protector and saviour, Alka had no time to fantasize about handsome and enrapturing princes. All she fantasized about was an opportunity to serve in the army, or even lead an army into battle.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "She never dresses as a woman! I've never seen her wearing any ornament whatsoever," muttered Kamayani.

  "Kamayani-"

  Kamayani was startled, and her left arm hit a china vase, which fell and shattered into a thousand pieces.

  She was, in the best way one could put it, petrified.

  In front of her stood the King of Bhopal.

  "Good. This one cost 500 dams. Think you could repay this?"

  Kamayani's face tensed, but before the monarch could make her even more ill at ease, one of the King's diplomats came to her rescue.

  (They are speaking Marathi, the language of diplomacy and high culture in Central India during the late 18th century. I will add the translation later.)

  "Shrimant, Diwaan sahib udayapur aapla bhetayala paahato."

  "Mahamahim aagaman jhaale?"

  "Hoy, Shrimant."

  "Kripaya tyanna kalava ki mi lavakarac yet ahe."

  "Ji, Shrimant. Aapan aagya mhanun."

  The diplomat bowed and took his leave. The King glared at Kamayani for a moment and then scurried away in haste.

  ***

  "Where are you taking us?"

  "Kumari Alakananda, Her Highness and the Queen Mother have summoned you. Unfortunately, we have been strictly instructed not to reveal the details of this urgent occasion," replied one of the eunuchs.

  "Seriously? I was about to practise fencing with my brother!"

  "When Her Highness calls, you're not supposed to give excuses to avoid meeting her. She has the final say in what the women of this household do. As such, it is advised, young lady, that you keep your tone suppressed and do as you are directed to."

  Alka scoffed at the comment and rolled her eyes. This earned her the frowns of the eunuchs, but Kamayani could see that she didn't budge an inch.

  This was why the young girl adored her cousin. The defiance, the rebelliousness, the "I will do as I please" attitude―these drew Kamayani to her older cousin. She knew that in her lifetime, she would never have the courage to exhibit such traits.

  The wooden doors creaked slightly, and through the small opening, the humourless visage of the Queen stared directly at the duo.

  As soon as her eyes met with those of her eldest daughter, her lips twisted in conspicuous disdain, and her furry eyebrows deepened into a frown.

  "Daughter, if you are pleased with having shamed our ancestors, I invite you to take a seat so I can tell you exactly where you stand."

  "I didn't shame my ancestors, mother. I made them proud."

  An awkward silence prevailed.

  Tsk, said someone. Kamayani heard something in the lines of told you, she is still a disgrace.

  "It must be granny."

  "Granny" was Rajani Devi, the Queen Mother. Although over seventy-five years old, she wielded considerable influence over the royal household. She was one of the only women the King consulted in matters concerning diplomacy, justice and national security.

  "Alka, speak only when you're spoken to."

  "Yeah, yeah; as if I would be allowed to speak anyway-"

  "SHUT UP! NOT A SYLLABLE ANYMORE! You do not raise your voice in my presence, or in anyone else's presence, for that matter. Oh, to think of my daughter as quarrelsome and rude!"

  Kamayani asked, "Mother, why have we been summoned?"

  The furious lady looked at her niece, and her disposition mollified somewhat. Mustering a faint smile, she replied, "You've come here to learn about a vital aspect of your lives."

  "Which is?"

  "Being an ideal woman, which includes being the most sought-after wife."

  "Oh! Who is an ideal woman, mother-aunt?"

  "Balaya ya yuvatva va vriddhaya va'pi yoshita;

  Na svatantryen kartavyam kim cid karyam griheshvapi,*" chanted the Queen Mother softly.

  "Ladies, under no circumstances will you ever do any act on your own accord; whether you be a child, a young woman or an aged woman."

  "What do you mean, mother?"

  "It is the duty of an ideal woman to always consult her elders, especially her husband, before doing or saying anything. She should always seek their guidance and obey their commands."

  "Why, aunt? Why should she seek the guidance of her husband?"

  "Her husband is her protector and lord. His happiness and contentment is her sole duty. Women who displease their husbands, quarrel with them, and do not pay heed to their words are looked down upon by society and bring shame to the name of their esteemed ancestors."

  Alka seemed to have irked at this particular comment and twisted her nose to display her distaste.

  "What about husbands who displease their wives, quarrel with them, beat them, do not pay heed to their concern, and disrespect them?"

  Silence prevailed again.

  The Queen Mother began, "Insolent child! Was your opinion sought? Speak only when you're spoken to!"

  After a momentary breach of conduct, the discourse continued. The Queen enumerated the various aspects of an ideal woman, which included her chastity, prudency, unquestioned loyalty to her husband, an aversion to independent living and of course, tenderness.

  "In other words, the woman should always remain under the tutelage of her father, her husband and her sons, for they alone are competent to provide her a happy life."

  "I beg to differ, mother."

  "I did not ask you whether you harboured a difference of opinion, Alka."

  At this terse remark, to the surprise of Kamayani and much to her mother's astonishment, Alka stood up and hissed gelidly, "Do not substitute 'tutelage' for 'slavery', Your Highness. A clever play on words does not alter the grim reality."

  She continued, "All men want obedient wives and docile daughters and lovely sisters, but nobody wants a daughter. The irony is evident, Your Highness."

  "Alka! How dare you talk back to your mot

  her?!"

  Alas! She was nowhere to be seen.

  Everyone present sighed in unison, earning a chuckle from Kamayani.

  Being a woman is difficult, thought Kamayani.