At The Threshold of Time

9.

Women were already washing their front porches as Shivali made her way back to the hospital. Her stomach knotted itself many times over, convinced that she had committed a grave mistake. 

At the hospital, she rushed past the doctors and helpers who were already up and shut the door to her room. She sat on the floor leaning against it to prevent anyone from coming in. The tears she had been holding back now rolled down her cheeks in big hot sobs.

What was she more guilty of? Having spent a night with a strange man? Or of having fooled herself into thinking kindly about a man who had tried to kill her? 

Rubbing her eyes roughly, she scowled at the bare interiors of her room. The tiny cabinet beside the dewan was the only new addition since she had come here. It now held the sarees she had been given every day. Shivali had often wondered who might have been paying for them. Now she knew. It was any person who didn't want her leaving their sight. Ajay? Krishnadasa? Bakula? Did the details really matter?

A hard rap on the door paused her sobs. She sat frozen against the door, hoping whoever it was, helper or doctor, would leave. But they only knocked harder. Cursing under her breath, she creaked the door open, already asking them to leave, but paused mid sentence, when Bakula glared at her through the gap.

Pushing the door open, he let himself in. Shivali stepped back.

'I wasn't expecting you,' Shivali complained, sniffling her sobs and dabbing her wet eyes with her saree pallu. 

Bakula did not greet her. His chest heaving heavily he stood in the center of the room. His hair was falling out in places from the bun he had tied it in.

'I heard you made his majesty drink last night?' he asked. He was straining his voice to sound calm.

'I did?' 

Bakula scoffed. 'Did the Vaidyaji allow you out of here?'

'Why would I need his permission?' Shivali retorted. People passing by her open door were shooting them glances.

'Oh,' He took a step toward her. 'So without the knowledge of the vaidyaji, you left the hospital, found his majesty, took him to the palace of the Tawaifs, and got him drunk.'

Shivali's mouth hing slightly open as she comprehended his accusation.

Taking another stride toward her, he spoke through gritted teeth. 'Since the both of us know the ruse you're trying to play, how about we drop it? Tell me why you slept with his majesty?'

Her slap echoed out of the room, stopping the passers by in their tracks.

Bakula's eyes bulged out as he shot her a death glare. Shivali felt a twinge of satisfaction as the red mark of her hand made itself visible on his cheek.

'Why don't you ask your majesty  what  he was doing with me last night?,' She asked, her anger somewhat cooled. 'And ask yourself who it is that is at a real risk of dying in the hands of the other.'

Bakula's hand gripped the dagger sheathed to his belt. His eyes glinted even in the dark room as he strode toward her, pushing her into a corner. Dragging the dagger out of its sheath, he pressed it painfully against her throat. 

'I am perfectly clear about who will die at the hands of whom,' he breathed, his eyes boring into hers.

Shivali sneered. 'You are rotten to the core,' her throat bobbed against the blade. She did not know where she had gotten the guts, and she didn't really care to know.

'Bakula!' Krishnadasa rushed in and pulled him away. Bakula did not resist. 

'What do you think you are doing?' he demanded, grabbing the dagger away from him.

Shivali had never seen Krishnadasa raise his voice.

'Do you realise what this woman has done Guruji?' Bakula shot her another glare. Shivali glared back.

'Shut up and leave,' Krishnadasa shoved his dagger back into his hands, half pushing him out.

Without another word, Bakula left. A crowd had gathered around the room, who pushed themselves aside as he stalked out, his pride undefeated.

Krishnadasa considered Shivali. 'Did he do anything to you?'

Shivali ignored him and sat down at her cabinet. As he attempted more queries, she pulled out her tiny collection of sarees and tied them all up in a bundle.

'Do not make decisions in haste,' he said as she got to her feet, the sack hanging from her arms like a handbag.

'Don't you feel ashamed?' she asked. 'Pretending to be all holier than thou? What difference does it make between a dagger and poison if the person dies?' 

The doctor looked like he had been smacked. 'I-- I need you to know--'

'What? That you're sorry?' She laughed bitterly, and before he could speak any further, pushed her way out through the crowd and the hospital.