Excerpts from The Legend of Amrapali

Narhari had barely occupied one of the velvet-cushioned, silver chairs when the door to the chamber opened again and Amrapali stepped in. there were two attendants supporting her and Kundali, absorbed in the bunch of little pearls dangling from the corner of her dupatta, was trailing along.

She looked different. The massive baby bump of a woman in the last leg of her pregnancy was clearly discernible despite the clever attempt to camouflage it with her drapery. Her face appeared fuller and cheeks smoothened, but the most glaring change was the murky luminescence bathing her skin-a divine radiance known only to expectant mothers.

The news of her pregnancy had come as a shock to Amrapali and initially she had been apprehensive about the very idea of giving birth to a child without the consent, or knowledge even, of its father. She had remained clueless about the whereabouts of Bindusen as her thoughts about him had acquired even more anxious hues. 'Where and how is he? Is he even alive? How will he react to the news? Will he be willing to give the child his name or would he rather let it struggle with the dreadful tag of illegitimacy for the rest of its wretched life?

But the nervousness proved temporary and with each passing day, as the realization of another life form shaping within her began to settle, she was usurped by a wave of motherly affection and alacrity. She imagined what the baby would look like, a faultless combination of Bindusen's handsome features-still vivid on the canvas of her mind-and her own. She longed for the day when she would hold the little one in her arms, nursing and cradling it to sleep, and her heart would begin to leap and prance carelessly like a playful rabbit.

She still experienced intermittent bouts of anxiety, flared by pregnancy induced hormonal shifts, but the bundle of joy contained within lent her the patience and resilience to tide over them. And when she found herself unable to emerge from her musings, Kundali, with his zealous antics and guileless craving for her attention helped her wrench her away from her thoughts.

Kundali's ingress into her life had come as a blessing and in tending to him and his most basic needs Amrapali felt a strange sense of satisfaction, one that made her feel complete as a woman. Now that her baby had begun making its own presence felt-twisting, turning and kicking inside the womb-she saw not one, but two eager beneficiaries of her motherly warmth and affection.

Since his arrival at the palace, Amrapali had felt a special bond between Kundali and herself. Throughout the day the boy would follow her like a shadow and at night-time it was only her lullabies that put him to sleep. In the little time he had spent at the palace, he had become an inseparable part of her life, never ceasing to charm her with naivety of his actions and the purity of his uncorrupted soul.

Narhari glanced over Prabha's shoulder and at the sight of his favourite pupil, a barrage of emotions fleeted across his face. Smiling, Amrapali paced up to him, trying to bend down and touch his feet, but Narhari held her by the shoulders. 'No beti, in such a state you should not be bending down', he said.

'Acharya, this is such a pleasant surprise. It has been so long and…and…you look so different. Why, please sit down and make yourself comfortable, 'she greeted him enthusiastically.

'I heard the news of your pregnancy and since I was passing by this part of the city I thought I must stop by to check on you', he replied. The warmth in his tone was palpable, but the old man had suddenly begun fidgeting, overwhelmed perhaps by the sight of his disciple in her expectant bloom.

'I can't stay for long and must get going at once, but my best wishes shall always remain with you and the little one. May God shower the baby with his grace and blessings and may the child usher into your life a wave of joy that has eluded you for so long,' he said, closing his eyes in a silent prayer before dabbing her forehead with his palm.

'No, Acharya, I can't let you leave like this. There is so much that I need to speak with you about, so many things I need your advice on. You will have to join me for dinner and spend rest of the night here at the palace. In the morning, at whatever time you wish, my chariot will stand ready to take you back to the ashram,' she insisted. But the old man remained unmoved. Fully aware that even if a fraction of the resolute Acharya Narhari of the past remained in his current decrepit frame, it would be impossible for her to get him to change his mind, she tried all that she could-appeal, plead and reason-but unexpectedly, to no avail.

Instead the old man said,' The Sakya Muni, I hear, has set up camp in the city, not far from where my ashram is. It would be nice if you pay him a visit and seek his blessings for your unborn child. Blessings of the Buddha will prove a precious influence for the little one when he is born. And if you do happen to be visiting the Sakya Muni, do drop by the ashram and see me as well. I have there a thing from your past life, a thing that I have preserved through many years and which I wish to hand over to you now.'

Nodding her head in accordance, Amrapali, with a heavy heart, escorted the old man to the courtyard where her chariot was waiting to ride him back to his ashram.

'Remember my words Amrapali-you have led, albeit not by choice, a life with many shades and of much adventure. Look around you and weed out, with utmost care any elements from your past that might prove to be an untoward influence on your child,' were his last words before embarking on the chariot.

Amrapali stood in the courtyard, quiet and poignant, watching the chariot steer out of the gate, drawn by the four stallions pulling it. She was repeating Narhari's words to herself, on her face and done what he to infuse perspective into the ramblings. The Acharya, she knew, was not one to make meaningless statements. Here had to be something of significance in those words that she was failing to latch on to. What was it that the Acharya had been implying? And what was 'the thing' from her past life that he wanted to give her? Despite straining hard she could not come up with any plausible answers to the questions her old teacher had left behind.

'Look, look what I got,' she was startled by a voice. It was Kundali and he was holding a red rose he had pulled out from one of the nearby vases. 'Now smile', he said, stuttering, as he handed over the flower to her. She couldn't help but heed to his words. Kundali had perhaps noticed the anguish on her face and done what he could think of to assuage it. The look of innocence on his face was endearing and impulsively Amrapali pulled him to her bosom and planted a kiss on his forehead.

'Maybe the old Acharya was only rambling. Maybe I am reading too much into his words and they actually are just what they appeared to be-words of care and concern from an elderly well-wisher to an expecting mother,' she thought as the two ambled back inside.

(See interview: The legend of Amrapali; a tale of love destruction and renunciation )