Author of Heir to Govandhara
When I was very young, I lived in a forest that had countless trees of velvety green. I do not remember how I got there. I was left in this beautiful and lonely place when I was old enough to find my food and follow my heart. It always felt like home.
The sunlight came inside the canopy of velvet every morning, tempting my eyes to open and drink in the beauty. The air was cold and wet, and gentle on my skin. Everything was still, but so alive. For long moments, my heart would race with indescribable emotions that made my smile grow lovely.
I would rise from my bed of feathers and flowers, under the base of a banyan tree. I would throw back my slippery raven hair and take in the rising sun. When I felt the heat of the day on me, I would begin my walk through the forest to the steam pool.
The walk was very peaceful. The earth was rough and loving under my feet and birds with pretty songs flew with me. I regretted not being able to see the full sun from under my blanket of trees, but enjoyed feeling protected and held. Sometimes, the leaves would fall slowly around me - landing in my hair or by my feet. I would laugh to myself, thinking that my mother had not forgotten me.
There was always plenty of food to eat during my walk. Mango trees were perfectly lined on the path, with low fruit ready to pick. I could smell their perfume before taking two - only two. If I took more than my belly could hold, my mother would punish me the next day. If I respected her bounty, I would be provided for.
After the mango trees came the rows of mint leaves that smelled heavily in the air. Only when my teeth felt ill did I ever pick the delightful work of my mother. I would kneel down in the dirt, and pluck the leaves one by one. My hair would often get tangled in the ritual, and I would have to use my knees to free it. The hassle was nothing compared to the taste of mint on my tongue.
When my face was happy with mango and mint, my eyes would feast on the valley of lilies that waited for me each day. They could never bore me with their crimson and yellow dresses that sprung anew in the morning. It was the closest I came to seeing the sun in its high position in the sky. I would roll around in the flowers, careful not to spoil the petals. I only picked the dying ones, because the growing flowers looked happier in the garden than in my hair.
My lilies delivered me to my steam pool, placed under the messy coral trees. Even though the water was always warm and soothing, I checked its feel with my toe. I did not trust the water as I did my mother. He could always change his mind and disappear into the ocean. My mother had no choice but to stay with me.
With lilies in my hair and earth on my skin, I would slip into the steaming waters to end my day. Every ache or trace of worry that had penetrated my perfect world was washed away as the water grew higher on my body. I had never dipped my head fully into the pool - worrying I might never return to my mother.
One day, I discovered something that changed the way I looked at the forest. There were rounded lines forming beneath my waist and my breasts were turning into tender mounds. When I splashed the warm water on my face, I felt a new hardness in my cheeks and jaw. My body felt bigger. More uncertain. More vulnerable to the animals.
My heart changed as my body changed. I felt sadness for being alone in the forest and a craving for life. The joy of each morning was gone as my hand traced along the unwelcome swell of my chest. I needed more than my mother could give me.
So I went inside the water that seduced me day after day. It took my hair and pushed me under in one glorious embrace. There was warmth everywhere inside me and I wondered why I had never trusted the water before. My black hair floated to the top of the pool while I twisted my body in circles underneath the lulling waves.
I surged to the top and splattered the water to the coral trees that spit flower petals back at me. I laughed louder than I ever had, having the courage to spread my voice. Something had changed inside me.
The day had ended. It was time for me to return to my banyan tree.
***
In the middle of the night, my belly burst. I grabbed my swollen stomach and held the open space between my legs and ran for the steam pool. I could barely move my body, my abdomen was so burdened.
I ran as fast as I could towards the water. I had never been awake at night before. The darkness scared me.
The mango trees heard my cry and lifted their branches. The mint patch disappeared with the night so I could find my way to the water. Finally, I found my place. I fell before the steaming pool. On my knees, begging for mercy. I rolled on the ground next to the water while my stomach stabbed me. I released my hands and a salty bath came rushing out of me.
I drowned in the water, hoping that the heat would take away the pain. Sinking further and further while bubbles came out of my nose. I raised my arms up in surrender to the moment, letting the pain overcome and consume me. I saw my own blood float up from my hips.
I stood on my head and opened my legs at the surface of the water. The pain ended with three violent heaves of my belly. I needed to breathe.
I surged to the top and splattered the water to the coral trees that spit flower petals back at me. I cried harder than I ever had before. Something had changed inside me.
***
For the first time, I slept away from my banyan tree. I spent the night with the water and held his child in my arms.
I knew my mother was sad that I did not return to her. The coral tree did not shake her flowers at me and the birds did not sing her lullabies. But my heart felt fuller with the water kissing my body and a babe nestled against my bosom.
She was as beautiful as my mother, but not as perfect. She needed me completely - from the milk that came so easily from my breasts to the steady rhythm of my heart. I could be complete with her so dependent on my soul.
We swam in circles around the steam pool until the sun grew dim. We exchanged laughter and smiles, and I was happy to give my body to the water and my child. There was nothing more we could want.
When the darkness came, I craved my bed by the banyan tree.
I tried to lift my child out of the water, but he would not let me take her. He turned hard and cold as soon as she was gone. I tried to roll to the coral trees and take her out of the pool. But the water thrashed my hands and feet.
The water did not want to lose his child.
I asked my daughter to follow me back to the banyan tree. If she left the pool of her own will, the water would let her go. She swam in slow circles and looked inside my loving eyes. She could see I wanted her in my life.
My daughter chose to stay with the water.
***
The next day, I rose from my bed of feathers and flowers at the base of the banyan tree. All I could think of was my little daughter. There was no happiness without her.
I went on my usual walk past the mango trees. Today, they offered more fruit. I took it - wanting to feed my baby and myself. I did not think about the next day. Only about the hunger she must feel.
I did not pick the mint with the care I usually did. I grabbed many, many bunches and stuffed them behind my ears. If I gave my child such a tempting treat, she might follow me back to the banyan tree and fill my heart forever.
I do not remember seeing the fire colored lilies that day. Only arriving at the pool, where flowers from the coral tree fell over my beautiful daughter. She was smiling up at the sun, and looked at peace in the water.
I kneeled by the pool and let the mangoes tumble off my breasts. I looked sadly at my child, and asked her if she would like some of the delicious fruit.
She had sparkling blue eyes - the color of the pool. She smiled softly at me and took one of the mangoes in her tiny hands. She bit into the fruit and made sounds of contentment.
I told her there were more mangoes back by my banyan tree. Would she come with me to my nest?
She waggled her precious head while sucking down the mango juice like my breast milk. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes.
I pulled the mint from my ears and offered it to her. Would she come with me to my nest?
She accepted the mint with humility and thanked me for the earth's treat. She placed a few leaves on her tongue, but did not answer my question.
Why would my daughter not choose to share her life with me? I suffered to bring her to my mother's garden and she refused to join my bed of feathers and flowers. I put my face in the water and wept salty tears.
My daughter drank them for nourishment.
***
When the sun went down, I took the last mango and walked back to my nest without my child. I could barely breathe.
I saw my lilies again - the ones I had ignored during the day. They were even more heartbreaking at night. The colors were blurry, but I knew there was hidden beauty inside each flower. I touched the petals, and felt my heart fall. I collapsed and cried at the loss of my only child. The flowers listened to my aching, and crept inside my hair.
I knew I would never go back to my steam pool. It was not mine any longer. I had left a part of me in the water to drown.
It was time to return home. To my nest of feathers and flowers at the base of the banyan tree. It was nice to feel the familiar embrace of my mother and know she had not forsaken me during my journey.
The next morning, I woke to see a full view of the sun rising to glory in the sky. It was beautiful, just like my daughter. Outside of her mother's grasp.
END
Saira Ramasastry is the author of the novel Heir to Govandhara, which won the 2001 Sapphire Award for best SF&F novel with a romantic theme, as well as the Independent Publishers Award for Best Romance.
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