Kaikeyi Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2022 by Vaishnavi Patel

  Cover design by Lisa Marie Pompilio

  Cover illustrations by Shutterstock

  Cover copyright © 2022 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Patel, Vaishnavi, author.

  Title: Kaikeyi : a novel / Vaishnavi Patel.

  Description: First edition. | New York, NY : Redhook, 2022.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2021039925 | ISBN 9780759557338 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780759557321

  Subjects: LCGFT: Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3616.A86673 K35 2022 | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021039925

  ISBNs: 9780759557338 (hardcover), 9780759557314 (ebook)

  E3-20220304-JV-NF-ORI

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Major Characters

  Part One Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Part Two Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Part Three Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Part Four Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Discover More

  To Ajji, Aai, and Ananya, three generations of strong women

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  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The seeds of Kaikeyi were planted seventeen years ago in a discussion between my mother and my grandmother. Each summer, my grandmother would tell my sister and me stories, passing down myths and legends centered around Hindu gods and heroes that she herself had grown up hearing. One particular summer, she told us the story of how the noble prince Rama was exiled by his jealous stepmother Kaikeyi, who was convinced to banish him by her wicked servant Manthara. At this, my mother stepped in to add that Kaikeyi had actually helped Rama. Without Kaikeyi, my mother pointed out, Rama would have never achieved his destiny by slaying the demon king Ravana, his main adversary in the Ramayana. My grandmother disagreed, arguing that it was cruel to exile your child, no matter the circumstance.

  And then we moved on. But their minor dispute stuck with me for years, and I would periodically search for stories told from or studying Kaikeyi’s perspective to make sense of the contradiction. I never found them. Eventually, I decided to write my own. I wanted to give Kaikeyi a chance to explain her actions and explore what might have caused a celebrated warrior and beloved queen to tear her family apart. I hope that Kaikeyi gives voice not just to its titular character but to the many women who populate the world of the Ramayana and have rich and worthy lives of their own.

  As a primary text, I used the Ralph T. H. Griffith English translation of Valmiki’s Ramayana, available online through Project Gutenberg. Although there are many Sanskrit versions of the Ramayana, Valmiki’s Ramayana is considered the original text—but even Valmiki’s epic was born of several antecedent stories. Beyond the Sanskrit epics, there exist many other versions in a multitude of languages across South, Southeast, and East Asia.

  Each of the surviving iterations of the Ramayana has a slightly different focus or purported author. Readers familiar with Valmiki’s Ramayana may notice in Kaikeyi unfamiliar variations of the story, some of which have been inspired by these alternate tellings. For example, in some versions, including the Adbhuta Ramayana and the Jain Ramayana, Ravana is in fact Sita’s birth father. The idea of Ravana as a tragic or misunderstood figure who may not be purely evil is present in many Southeast Asian tellings. And some elements that may feel new, such as Dasharath’s promise that Kaikeyi’s son will become king, are in fact present in Valmiki’s Ramayana—but they are not often included in popular adaptations or dinner table recitations.

  Of course, there are deviations from the Ramayana that are my own invention for Kaikeyi. There are too many to concisely name, but among the more important ones stand the presence of Ahalya’s husband as Rama’s tutor and Bharata agreeing to take the throne during Rama’s exile. And Kaikeyi’s magic and aspects of her story, including her journey to Janasthana and confrontation with Bhandasura, are my own imaginings, as much of her life is simply a blank space in the original epic. This book does not strive to be an exact retelling of any version of the Ramayana—it is Kaikeyi’s story, and thus it is its own story.

  Kaikeyi also does not seek to replicate the world, technology, or customs of any exact time period or civilization in South Asia. Instead, it draws on aspects of culture and science from across thousands of years of ancient Indian history, primarily before 1 BCE. As but one example, it borrows elements of political structure and governance from Patrick Olivelle’s translation of Kautilya’s Arthashastra, an ancient political science text purportedly written by the teacher of Chandragupta Maurya. While it would be impossible to name here every source consulted to determine, for example, the build of chariots or the type of windows or the varieties of court entertainment in ancient India, I owe a great debt to scholars of ancient civilization. Of course, creative choices have also been made in fashioning Kaikeyi’s world—for example, paper was not in common use in ancient India, but is present in the narrative.


  For those interested in learning more about the Ramayana’s evolution and breadth across its many tellings, I found A. K. Ramanujan’s “Three Hundred Rāmāyaas: Five Examples and Three Thoughts on Translation,” an essay in The Collected Essays of A. K. Ramanujan edited by Vinay Dharwadker, absolutely invaluable. Ramanujan’s essay can also be found in Many Rāmāyaas: The Diversity of a Narrative Tradition in South Asia, a collection of essays edited by Paula Richman. I highly recommend this collection as a whole—in particular, I drew inspiration from stories recounted in Velcheru Narayana Rao’s essay, A Ramayana of Their Own: Women’s Oral Tradition in Telugu. The Rāmāyaa Revisited, a collection of essays edited by Mandakranta Bose, was also of particular use to me in thinking about the portrayal of gender and ethics in the Ramayana.

  The Ramayana is not a static story. Like any myth, it evolves and changes with each telling. Even today, the Ramayana exists as a Sanskrit epic and as hundreds of different translations, as stories told around dinner tables and episodes of television shows, as movies and plays, as comics and books. Each version says something slightly different and new about these familiar characters. With Kaikeyi, I add my own voice to this long tradition. Thank you for reading.

  MAJOR CHARACTERS

  AGNI: God of fire; carries offerings to the gods

  ASHA: Servant of Kaushalya and Kaikeyi

  ASHVIN: Prince of Kekaya, younger brother of Kaikeyi

  ASHWAPATI: King of Kekaya, father of Kaikeyi

  BHANDASURA: A fire demon

  BHARATA: Prince of Kosala, son of Kaikeyi and Dasharath

  DASHARATH: King of Kosala, husband of Kaikeyi, Kaushalya, and Sumitra, and father of Rama, Bharata, Lakshmana, and Shatrugna

  DHANTERI: Servant of Kekaya

  KAIKEYI: Princess of Kekaya, Queen of Kosala, wife of Dasharath, and mother of Bharata

  KAUSHALYA: Queen of Kosala, mother of Rama

  KEKAYA: Queen of Kekaya, wife of Ashwapati, and mother of Kaikeyi

  LAKSHMANA: Prince of Kosala, son of Sumitra and Dasharath

  MANTHARA: Trusted servant of Kaikeyi

  NIDRA: Goddess of sleep

  RAMA: Prince of Kosala, son of Kaushalya and Dasharath

  RAVANA: King of Lanka

  SARASVATI: Goddess of wisdom and learning

  SHATRUGNA: Prince of Kosala, son of Sumitra and Dasharath

  SITA: Princess of Videha, wife of Rama

  SUMITRA: Queen of Kosala, mother of Lakshmana and Shatrugna

  VAMADEVA: Sage blessed by the gods, learned tutor of the princes of Kosala

  VIRENDRA: Minister of War of Kosala, advisor to Dasharath

  YUDHAJIT: Prince of Kekaya, son of Ashwapati and Kekaya, and twin brother of Kaikeyi

  CHAPTER ONE

  I WAS BORN ON the full moon under an auspicious constellation, the holiest of positions—much good it did me.

  In Bharat, where the gods regularly responded to prayers and meddled in mortal affairs, the circumstances of my birth held great promise. This did not matter to my father, who cared only that my brother Yudhajit followed me into the world minutes later under the same lucky stars. Regardless of birth position, Yudhajit, being a boy, was the heir to the Kekaya kingdom. I was but a dowry of fifty fine horses waiting to happen. For each of my mother’s subsequent pregnancies, my father made sacrifices to the gods, requesting sons. In return, he was blessed with six more healthy boys, portents of future prosperity.

  The people of Bharat have often blamed my father for my sins, as if a woman cannot own her actions. He was not a perfect man, that I freely admit, but for all his faults he loved each of his sons fiercely, playing with them in his throne room, bringing them the finest tutors in all the kingdom, and gifting them ponies so they would grow into brilliant cavalrymen.

  If he bears any fault for my actions, it is through his inaction. I remember few occasions when we exchanged words, and fewer still when he sought to speak with me—save one.

  My brothers and I were playing hide and catch in the sweeping field behind the palace and it was my turn to find them. I kept my eyes shut as their laughter faded into wind, opening them only after counting to twenty. I immediately saw a glimmer of movement by the stables.

  I crept slowly toward whichever brother was hiding there, knowing that they would get more nervous by the second, and planning how best to catch them. I doubted it was Mohan, who was three years younger than me. He was short and slow and knew I could easily grab him. Shantanu was a bit older and was fast as a deer, but I could try to trap him by chasing him toward the palace wall. If it was Yudhajit, he would be almost impossible to catch, though maybe—

  Shantanu stumbled out from behind the stable. With a whoop, I began sprinting toward him, my blood racing through my veins. But as I followed him past the side of the building, I stopped short. Had I just seen movement? I whirled around to find Yudhajit pressed against the wood, and my face split into a wild grin. He must have shoved Shantanu out of their mutual hiding spot to distract me.

  I spun, chasing Yudhajit around the stable, knowing as I did that I could never beat him in an outright footrace. He rounded the corner out of sight, and from just beyond the wall came a strangled shout. A second later, my shin collided with bony flesh, and I fell onto a tangled heap of bodies, Yudhajit right below me.

  “I got you!” I shouted breathlessly. Someone, probably Shantanu, groaned. I rolled off the pile and onto the hard ground, laughing, asking if they knew where Mohan was, when I saw legs coming toward me.

  I sat up, squinting at the guard, aware my white kurta was smeared liberally with dirt and grass and my hair was falling from its braids, but only half-embarrassed. “Yudhajit, get up,” I hissed.

  “You two,” the guard said, nodding his chin toward the group of us. “The raja would like to speak with you immediately.”

  I rose to my feet. “We can play later,” I said to my brothers. “You two go, I’ll find Mohan.” I had started to walk away when the guard called.

  “Yuvradnyi Kaikeyi, the raja wants you now.”

  I turned to look at Yudhajit, shocked. He only shrugged at me.

  We trailed behind the guard back to the palace, and each of my steps felt heavier than the last. Something had to be amiss for my father to summon me. But if I had done something to anger him, why would he want Yudhajit too?

  As we approached the throne room, I dragged my feet against the stone, letting the guard and Yudhajit get farther and farther ahead. At the end of the hall the guard turned and glared, waiting by the closed door until I reached him, then swinging it open in a precise movement.

  Yudhajit went in first, and I lingered a few seconds longer before following him into the flickering light of the hall. He half turned his head as I approached, and the light cast strange shadows on his wide forehead and narrow nose. His dark brown eyes held a flicker of apprehension and his lips were pressed into a thin line, in what I was sure was an eerie rendering of my own face.

  I took my place a pace behind him and glanced surreptitiously around the room, afraid of attracting attention. During feasts, the high-ceilinged room was filled with rows of tables and throngs of people, and its cavernous depths did not seem large at all. Absent these preparations, the wooden pillars cast long shadows, the carvings of bulls and snakes and long-plumed birds that so entertained my younger brothers fading into the gloom. The huge crackling firepits, built partially to warm the entire hall when the weather turned in the winter and partially—I suspected—to intimidate visitors, made me feel even smaller than I usually did.

  My father’s throne was carved out of dark wood into stark, undecorated lines, much like the man who sat upon it. One hand stroked his beard as he stared unwaveringly into the nearest pit, his thick eyebrows deeply furrowed. Despite the warmth of the flames, gooseflesh crawled up my skin, and I tried not to shiver.

  After several minutes, Yudhajit, with all the patience of a twelve-year-old boy, blurted out, “Why did you call us here if you wanted to sit there
and say nothing?”

  Raja Ashwapati looked up at him as if he had not realized we were there. He did not spare so much as a glance for me, hidden behind my brother.

  “Your mother—” he began. I glanced around the room, looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found. She would not have added much warmth to the room, but she was rarely cold the way Father was. Father opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then said, “Your mother had to leave. She will not return.”

  At that, Yudhajit laughed, and I winced. I wished we had learned this news from the guards, without Father present, so I could tell him it was not a prank. Had he not seen how distant our parents were toward each other, how quick to snap they were, how the edges of their relationship were fraying? But my brother, the brilliant heir, said, “We’re too old for you to joke with us this way, Father. Mother is radnyi. A queen wouldn’t just leave.”

  “Kekaya is no longer radnyi,” Father said, and his eyes sought me out for the first time.

  “Why—what—” Yudhajit’s shoulders drooped. “Who will…?” He trailed off, apparently unable to describe what our mother actually did.

  Our father sighed. “As the yuvradnyi, Kaikeyi will slowly assume some of the duties of the queenship, until you are old enough to wed.”

  I bit down on my tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth and I swallowed before it could stain my teeth. I had no idea how to take on any of my mother’s responsibilities, nor did I have any desire to.

  Yudhajit took my hand and squeezed it. “Surely Mother will come back,” he said. “She would not just leave us like that.”

  The raja shook his head. “She told me she would never return. Kekaya is no longer welcome here.”

  And just like that, we were dismissed.

  In the hall, Yudhajit tried to speak to me, but I brushed him aside and raced back to my room, slamming the door behind me and falling to my knees. I knew what I needed to do.