The Secret
Part Six — The Battle of Endurance
Thirty-nine days of the forty-day vow had passed.
Outside the ruined temple of Shiva, the forest rested in its natural silence. But within that silence, a great war lay concealed.
Chaturaka had lost his magical power and remained imprisoned in the form of Chaturika. The great protective circle of Garuda surrounded the temple like a fire that did not burn. Sharabhanga’s chanting was the life within that circle.
But the true war was not outside.
It was within Sulochana’s body.
Within Sulochana’s breath.
Within Sulochana’s mind.
Chaturaka’s magical bond pulled in one direction.
Sharabhanga’s sacred vow held firm in another.
The medicine awakened the vital essences of the body.
The mantra loosened the bond.
Kumudvati’s love kept Sulochana from breaking.
At times, Sulochana felt as though two forms were speaking within her.
One was Sulochanudu, the disciple of Sharabhanga.
The other was Sulochana, growing softer and more firmly fixed in feminine form under Chaturaka’s enchantment.
Between the two, her mind was crushed like a flower trapped between grinding stones.
Yet she endured.
She endured while holding Kumudvati’s hand.
---
The fortieth day arrived.
Before sunrise, the sky was still dark blue. Only a thin white line appeared in the east. The birds had not fully awakened. Within the sanctum, the lamp burned dimly.
According to Sharabhanga’s command, Sulochana had to prepare sweet rice pudding with her own hands that morning. She was to offer it to Shiva, partake of a little herself, and then feed some to Kumudvati.
After that would come the vow of silence, the ritual bath at sunset, and the secret marriage vow at night.
Sulochana sat before the small fire pit in the temple.
Milk simmered.
The rice slowly blossomed within it.
The fragrance of clarified butter rose into the air.
When strands of saffron dissolved into the milk, the pudding turned golden.
She stirred it gently with a ladle.
But her hand was unsteady.
Kumudvati noticed.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
Sulochana shook her head.
But no words came.
After a while, she called softly,
“Kumuda…”
For the first time during the entire vow, the name sounded so tender upon her lips.
Kumudvati came closer.
“Yes?”
Sulochana kept her gaze upon the pudding.
Then she spoke slowly.
“Our wedding will take place in a few hours.”
For a moment, Kumudvati’s heart beat hard.
“Yes.”
“Which of us is the bride? And which is the groom?” Sulochana asked.
There was playfulness in the question.
But behind that playfulness lay deep confusion, fear, and longing.
Kumudvati looked at her face and smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Who else, Princess?” she teased. “You are the bride. I am the groom.”
Sulochana’s face flushed at once.
There was shyness in that redness.
But it was not merely the natural softness created by the vow. It was a desire rising from somewhere deeper.
“That is what I want, my beloved,” she said very softly. “I will become your other half. From now on, you will be my husband.”
For a moment, Kumudvati could not speak.
There was love in those words.
But there was also an unnatural, compelled attraction.
There was tenderness in Sulochana’s eyes.
Yet the fire of Sulochanudu’s will seemed hidden behind mist.
“Sulochana…” Kumudvati whispered.
Sulochana took her hand.
“Do not send me back, Kumuda. I feel as though I could remain beside you in this form, with this name. You would accept me like this, would you not?”
Kumudvati’s heart broke.
She felt affection for Sulochana.
She held respect for Sulochanudu.
She possessed the courage never to abandon either form.
But her heart understood that the words being spoken in that moment did not arise from Sulochana’s freedom.
“You will not lose me, whatever form you bear,” she said. “But your desire must rise from your own heart, not from Chaturaka’s shadow.”
Sulochana’s hand trembled suddenly.
At that very moment, a violent warning touched the mind of Sharabhanga, who sat in meditation before the sanctum.
He opened his eyes.
---
Sharabhanga’s divine vision awakened.
He saw the shadows of the previous night.
Chaturika, imprisoned in the southern chamber—deprived of magical power, yet still possessing cunning.
He saw greed stir within the mind of one of the female guards.
He saw jewels glimmering between Chaturika’s hands.
Soft words.
False tears.
A lie spoken in the voice of a victim:
“This is harmless. It will help Sulochana rest.”
He saw the small bottle of medicine secretly carried away by the guard.
He saw the drug mixed into milk.
He saw Sulochana drink it.
Sharabhanga’s face grew grave.
“Strikarani herb…” he whispered inwardly.
Though Chaturaka had lost his magical strength, in the form of Chaturika he had released one final snare.
The herb had inflamed the spiritual bond he had already placed within Sulochana’s body.
That was why the desire to remain permanently as a woman had risen so strongly within her.
It was not the voice of her soul.
It was fire fed with medicine upon the embers of enchantment.
Sharabhanga rose at once.
He did not go to the southern chamber.
First, he had to prepare an antidote.
In the northern corner of the temple, he had already hidden several medicinal substances.
Drops of water formed upon the moonstone.
The root essence of Garudapatri.
The creeper that neutralised serpent venom.
The tuber known as Shivanabhi.
The sacred ash infused each day with the root mantra during the vow.
All of these had to be combined into an antidote.
There was very little time.
The hour of the marriage vow was drawing near.
---
From midday onward, the temple grew even more silent.
Sharabhanga did not summon Chaturika for questioning.
She remained confined in the southern chamber.
But he secretly summoned the female guard who had been assigned to watch her.
Before his vision of mantra, falsehood could not endure.
The jewels.
The drug.
The milk.
Everything came to light.
Sharabhanga did not become angry.
Yet his silence felt more terrible to the guard than punishment.
“When greed becomes a doorway, betrayal enters through it,” he said. “You did not allow the traitor herself to enter. But you carried her snare inside.”
The guard began to weep.
“Forgive me, revered master.”
“Forgiveness may come later. Protection comes first.”
He removed her from duty and appointed sterner female guards before Chaturika’s chamber.
He strengthened Chaturika’s bonds with the mantra of Garuda.
Still, a defeated smile appeared upon her lips.
“The hour is close, Sharabhanga,” she said. “Your antidote will come too late.”
Sharabhanga ordered the door closed.
“Time is not mine. But the vow is still ours.”
---
Evening came.
The moon had not yet risen, but the sky was preparing to receive its light.
A small pavilion had been arranged before the sanctum.
There were few flowers.
Many lines of mantra.
The sacred fire was small, but the protective circle drawn around it by Sharabhanga shone brightly.
Sulochana and Kumudvati entered in the garments of the vow.
According to the discipline, both were to make the sacred resolve in feminine form.
Chaturaka’s enchantment still bound Sulochana’s body.
That form was not to be treated as humiliation.
It had to stand as witness.
Kumudvati had to accept it without rejection.
That acceptance was the strength of heart that would make the enchantment lose its direction.
But the effect of the drug remained within Sulochana’s eyes.
Love, modesty, and tenderness were all present.
Yet behind them moved an artificial wave.
Kumudvati saw it and became afraid.
Sharabhanga sat before them.
The antidote waited in a small silver vessel.
It was thick.
It had no fragrance.
Only the bitter smell of medicine.
The mantras began.
When the sacred resolve was to be spoken, Sulochana’s voice trembled softly.
“I…”
She looked at Kumudvati for a moment.
“Sulochana…”
Sharabhanga immediately said in a gentle voice,
“Speak as a witness to your true form, not as a slave to the bound form.”
Sulochana’s eyes filled with tears.
Her body trembled as though Sulochanudu were struggling to rise from within.
“I… Sulochana… as witness to the will of Sulochanudu…”
Kumudvati continued,
“I, Kumudvati… as witness to the truth that stands beyond form…”
The sacred flame rose slightly.
Sharabhanga intensified the mantra.
They exchanged flower garlands.
Sulochana’s hands trembled.
Kumudvati held them steady.
At the moment the garland was placed, Sulochana smiled softly.
The intoxication of the enchantment rose again in that smile.
“Now I belong to you, do I not?” she whispered.
Tears gathered in Kumudvati’s eyes.
“You belong first to yourself. Only then can you belong to me.”
Those were the words Sharabhanga had been waiting for.
He immediately lifted the vessel containing the antidote.
“Sulochana, take this now.”
At first, Sulochana drew back.
The compelled desire within her tried to reject the bitter medicine.
Kumudvati cupped Sulochana’s face in her hands.
“My beloved,” she said, “this will not take you away from me. It will return you to yourself.”
At those words, the mist in Sulochana’s eyes shifted.
She opened her mouth.
Sharabhanga gave her the antidote.
Sulochana closed her eyes.
The moment the medicine passed down her throat, her entire body trembled.
The effect of Chaturika’s herb fought back from within.
Sharabhanga increased the power of his chant.
Kumudvati gripped Sulochana’s hands.
After some time, Sulochana’s breathing steadied.
“One stage remains,” Sharabhanga said. “The two of you must bathe in the pond outside the temple. At the first instant moonlight touches the water, Sulochanudu’s true form will awaken.”
Kumudvati helped Sulochana rise.
The vow was nearly complete.
Victory stood at the doorway.
At that very moment, destiny cast its final snare.
---
The pond outside the temple lay still.
Only moments remained before the moon would rise.
No silver lines had yet appeared upon the water.
The trees stood like shadows.
Beyond the Garuda circle, the forest was dark.
Sulochana walked one step at a time.
The antidote was working.
But the remaining force of Chaturika’s herb was driving her body into unbearable exhaustion.
“Just a little farther,” Kumudvati said. “We have reached the pond.”
Sulochana tried to smile.
“Kumuda…”
“Yes?”
“When I return… will you recognise me?”
Kumudvati supported her.
“I will not recognise you by form. I will recognise you by your breath.”
Sulochana’s eyes slowly closed.
“Then… I am not afraid…”
With those words, she lost consciousness and fell near the bank of the pond.
“Sulochana!” Kumudvati cried.
She bent to lift her.
At that moment—
A massive shadow moved among the bushes.
Kumudvati reached for a sword.
But she wore the garments of the vow.
She carried no weapon.
The female guards around the area had their attention fixed beyond the Garuda circle.
This shadow had not come from within.
It had stolen its way through a narrow path between the edges of the protective boundary.
Prince Durjaya of Trigarta stepped forward.
He was tall, with hard eyes, battle armour, and a smile accustomed to darkness.
He did not possess all of Chaturaka’s sorcery.
But he possessed courage equal to his greed.
“Two princesses at once,” he said. “A fortunate night for Trigarta.”
Kumudvati did not retreat.
“How did you enter this circle?”
Durjaya laughed.
“Circles may stop magic. They do not stop Durjaya’s hands.”
Before he finished speaking, two spies rushed forward from behind him.
Kumudvati resisted.
She remembered the bodily discipline taught by Sulochana.
She struck one aside with her elbow.
She slipped free from the grip of the other.
But Sulochana was unconscious.
Without a weapon, there was not enough time to protect her and fight at once.
Durjaya threw a smoke pellet.
The pond bank filled with darkness, smoke, and a poisonous smell.
Kumudvati staggered.
Durjaya rushed forward, lifted the unconscious Sulochana over one shoulder, and seized the unsteady Kumudvati with his other arm.
“The wedding pavilion of Trigarta awaits,” he said.
When the smoke cleared, the bank of the pond was empty.
Sulochana was gone.
Kumudvati was gone.
Only the first line of moonlight fell upon the water.
It had arrived too late.
---
Sharabhanga emerged from the sanctum.
His face was graver than ever before.
He saw the empty pond bank.
He closed his eyes.
His divine vision spread like fire.
“Durjaya…” he said.
Orders were sent at once.
He looked again upon Chaturika, still imprisoned in the southern chamber.
A proud smile rested upon her lips.
“Durjaya came in the end, did he not?” she said.
Sharabhanga did not reply.
It was dangerous to keep her there.
Though she had lost magical power, her mind remained treacherous.
Another greedy guard.
Another frightened soldier.
Another secret passage.
Any of these might open the door to further danger.
Sharabhanga invoked a subterranean protection device through the mantra of Garuda.
The southern floor of the ruined temple seemed to split apart.
A cave entrance appeared within it.
It descended into darkness, as though leading into the belly of the earth.
“Place Chaturika there,” he ordered. “In a cavern beyond the reach of human ears and beyond the paths of sorcery.”
For the first time, Chaturika became truly afraid.
“Sharabhanga!”
“You wandered through the world wearing disguises. For a while, you require a darkness without disguises and without an audience.”
Bound by the restraints of Garuda, she was taken into the subterranean cave.
The entrance closed.
The floor became stone once more. (To Be Contiuned)
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