At The Threshold of Time

4.

When Shivali opened her eyes, the first thing she saw were feet, inches from her, walking past her.

Repressing the urge to sneeze from all the dust they raised, she sat up groggily.

Men donning dhoti kurtas mounted the stairs. Few palanquins mixed with them, in which Shivali guessed women were seated. Most people ignored her, but few men crinkled their noses at her in disgust and walked away faster. Maybe even the women inside found her repulsive. For one thing, her hair was dusty and unkempt, then came her outfit of course. Maybe they grouped around her and ogled at her when she was asleep.

As she traced the line of people to the gates of Baland Mahal, reality sunk back in. She had hoped, or rather, expected to wake up in their hotel room, so this would've just been an eerily real dream she could've recounted to people fifty years later.

Once most of the people passed her, she stood up and stretched. Now that it was day, she realised the trees weren't really that dense or tall. The stairs merged into a muddy lane at the foot of the hill, to her right, and a wide patch of barren land surrounded by mounds of tiny hills stretched to her left. Roofs popped up beyond an arch in the lane. She'd have to probably walk for a couple hours before she reached the city.

Thinking with a clearer head, it did not make any sense to actually go to the city. What would she even do there? She had to go home. She had to figure out what exactly had happened yesterday, and do something about it. First, she needed a plan of action.

'You seem to be in need of clothes to change into,' a voice behind her made Shivali jump.

A tiny old lady with silver hair put up in a bun gave her a wrinkly smile, a wicker basket in hand. Inside was a neatly folded green cotton saree.

A bit away, a palanquin was on the ground and four men stood near it.

When Shivali didn't reply, the old lady asked, 'Why are you here, in the middle of nowhere?'

This time, Shivali didn't know what to say even if she wanted to.

'Are you new here? Do you not speak our language?'

'I- I came here yesterday,' Shivali said, and her voice came out hoarse from all the crying.

'Well here you go, take this,' the lady placed the basket in Shivali's hands. 'Take the right lane at the foot of the hill. It will lead you to Panjvati river. You can wash yourself there, assuming you have no lodging here, of course.'

'Thanks,' Shivali murmured, clearing her throat, and the lady turned away to her palanquin.

'Excuse me,' Shivali stopped her. 'Why did you all go to the fortress?'

'Me?' The old woman asked, confused, then seemed to understand. 'Oh, I work there. The others you are asking about probably went to attend the court now, didn't they?' She turned to the four men, who nodded their yeses.

Divya had shown her a pile of bricks that was supposed to be the court for commoners. There was another one too, they hadn't visited it, but it was in the restricted area of the fort, and it was only for the royal family and higher ministers.

After the old lady's palanquin left, Shivali stared down at the saree in her hands. All the women she had seen yesterday, even this old lady, wore the saree in a different manner. Above the waist, you had the pallu falling behind the left shoulder as usual, but below the waist, instead of being draped around both the legs, the saree was tied like a dhoti.

Back in Auroli, people wore sarees this way only during weddings, if they ever did. She herself had helped her cousin with it once, she could easily recollect how to tie it. And once she looked like a normal person, maybe people would be more eager to listen to what she had to say. She could go to the court too, hopefully. She'd plan to present the situation in a not so outrageous manner. Maybe lie a bit.