So this was a prompt by @allegoriesinmediasres which @ruminationsofaraven posted last night. The whole imagery that this woman drew with just three sentences, literally - BLEW MY MIND!- and hence I got all worked up for a podfic with my five-year-old voice.
Kindly endure this Al, you brought this upon yourself.
Tagging @mayavanavihariniharini, @ruminationsofaraven @bleedinknight and @alwaysthesideofwonder , @ratnas-musings and whoever brought this upon themselves.
5 times Bhalla almost let Devasena go. And the one time he wanted to leave along with her.
I’m sorry love, this took so long. I know I should have got to this earlier. But then
a) This is Bhalla, we’re talking about, and,
b) My life is a messy, little, boring bitch right now.
So here goes nothing!
I.
It wasn’t just as simple as he would have liked it to be.
Yet, it involved no physical exertion at all. He simply had to pull the latch, untie the chains and then-
Devasena would be free-
-And he would finally heave a sigh of relief.
Moreover, it wasn’t as if she had a place to ensconce herself in. Gone was her motherland, and gone were the people in it. Her marital home had faded into oblivion as well, as this new land that he ruled, remained nothing of the Maahishmati he knew.
Amarendra Baahubali was long dead, and his wife, The Valiant Devasena of Kuntala, was only a breathing mollusc.
And he, Bhallaladeva, had no use for a relic. Particularly one that reminded him of his momentary defeat.
His fingers, calloused and hardened, almost reach out to the bars of her cage, where she lay, finally asleep, motionless, her breath a whisper, almost ominous.
But freeing her?
Was that necessary?
Couldn’t she just stay to witness the disappearance of his Brother’s memory?
Couldn’t she just bear testimony to the ruins He would bring about?
Couldn’t she just be a helpless spectator, while He finally took charge of what was owed to him?
No.
His soliloquy comes in a tone of finality.
Not until she saw the last of it.
II.
The Palace of Maahishmati was still aglow with the fire that had testified his wedding.
Torn from Saurashtra and supplanted in His Land was his Vallabhi, the only one whose affections had been undivided when it came to him.
Or so you thought!, His mind mocked.
He hadn’t been spared this time either. Baahubali’s ghost haunted him even as he forcibly took her from her Father. She, for her part, knew of the cage that held Devasena, and-
-She hadn’t been forgiving.
“Matricide and fratricide!” she said, her voice caustic, “Your hands reek of the blood of the one who begat you, and your breath bears the stench of the carrion you reduced a Father to! Your eyes still bear the spite you hold for his wife, who you cage only as a token of your savagery!”
He hadn’t stopped her as she had levelled her blade to his throat, millimetres away from their marital bed. He didn’t jerk the weapon away with an effortless swoop of his fingers, that longed to caress her cheek. He didn’t turn the knife in her direction either, to quieten her for an eternity.
Instead, Bhallaladeva had only left.
What if I set her free?, he wondered in solitude.
Would that win him his Vallabhi back? Would that grant him her love back?
The contemplations came and went in an endless stream, with conclusions better than the last, with prospects of love, hope, and warmth, all that he yearned for-
He only had to unlock the bolt.
But then, his vengeance was necessary. If Baahu’s spirit had lingered on, even as it tormented him thus, he just couldn’t let it have the satisfaction of knowing that he had finally won.
Devasena had to stay.
III.
Try as hard as he might, Baahu's memory just wouldn't take its leave. His subjects, his people simply wouldn't let him go.
I have tried!, Bhallaladeva furiously clutched the goblet in his hands.
He had. He really had, with all the sincerity he could muster in every way. But, somehow he had failed.
Correction-
He had been a miserable failure.
At times, he felt as if Devasena got a significant triumph watching him fail thus. It was infuriating to give her the satisfaction of knowing that the people weren't accepting his rule.
But then-
You should have known, someone sneers.
At times, freeing Devasena felt like one way to gain their confidence. It would suffice even if they let him start, in a small way.
It wouldn't take him long.
Somehow, it just didn't feel right. Devasena didn't deserve that ultimate triumph that lay in her freedom.
IV.
"Let her go!" His beloved pleads, her eyes bloodshot, her voice quaking, her fingers trembling.
"Vallabhi!" He really doesn't bother concealing the quiver in his own voice as she helplessly fell to her knees.
"Please!" she cried. "I won't ask for anything, ever!"
He fumbled as he held her in his arms. He fumed at his misfortune.
She had been unencumbered all along. Time had brought them closer. She had seemingly forgiven, and perchance ignored a lot more than she had remembered, as she began letting her walls fall.
He had let his guard down as well. Only Vallabhi knew him to have a side where he loved with all his heart and that he held no acrimony. None at all.
But it only had to last till she saw the cage, tangible and proud, right in the middle of the square. And till she saw Devasena, doomed and wretched to a fate none would ever find desirable. It had been hard to believe that the man who loved her so dearly could perpetrate such wrongs on another woman.
"She had a baby!" she begged, "Let her go! For me! For our child!"
His lips went dry as he saw her tremble in grief.
He just didn't feel the anger he should have felt. Instead, he felt the same pain as the woman in his arms. He had been elated when he'd heard the news of her pregnancy.
Happiness was months away as he eagerly awaited the birth of his child.
Hadn't Baahu been escatic as well?
Hadn't he killed a newborn?
Had he not slain his own Mother?
Was he not doomed?
For all Vallabhi's happiness, his vengeance bubbled, yet again. Baahubali hadn't spared him now either.
And he, Bhallaladeva, for his part, wouldn't spare Devasena.
V.
'Bhalla!'
The deep baritone called out to him, yet again in the middle of the night.
At times, the voice felt like a tangible form, as humane as Amarendra had once been, in the times when he used to smile, the warmth extending up to his illumined eyes…
Was it him?
Was it a ghost?
Or a spirit?
He always woke up, startled out of his wits, sweating profusely.
He never had to ask who it was, for he knew that voice too well. It was the voice that killed him a thousand deaths every moment he breathed, reminding him of his-
Sins?
Had he really sinned?, wondered he.
Would releasing Devasena be atonement enough to stop those thousand deaths?
But he hadn't really sinned, had he?
The Maahishmati Throne was his. Sivagami Devi's love belonged to him. None had been Baahubali's to call his own. The mighty Amarendra Baahubali had been in his debt, and had left his dues unpaid.
Unpaid debts accrued sin.
And in captivity, it was his wife who was atoning for his sins.
At least, that reasoning helped him garner some paltry slumber in such nights.
---
+1
'We couldn't save The Queen, My Lord.' the Royal Nurse almost trembled with the wailing infant in her arms.
Bhalla didn't look at his son. He could most definitely not look at his deceased wife.
There goes your chance of atonement, Dear Brother, He heard clearly.
Vallabhi's lifeless body seemed to mock at him in her resignation from life. She had purposely let it go, deliberately held back in a fight against death, only to relieve herself of the burden of loving an irredeemable soul.
If she had been unable to deny her love, she had denied herself the life that had been her destiny, and with it, she had taken the final bits of life he could cling to.
"Release her, please!" she had requested, time and again, only to be met by indifference and useless consolations.
Would she return if he set Devasena free now?
The dead cannot be resurrected, he told himself. He had no use for anything now. If he freed Devasena, maybe he could accompany her, and let this accursed land rule itself.
At least, he could make an attempt to revive his soul, just as she had wanted.
But then-
Vallabhi wasn't there to witness his redemption, was she?
And wasn't it Devasena's plight that had caused her such psychological malady? Wasn't that woman responsible for destroying his final chance at humanity?
She couldn't find her satisfaction in his defeat. He had to re-assemble his pieces and forge them into a stronger structure, not just for himself, but for his blood, now motherless.
And as for Devasena-
'Arrange for a nurse for the child.' he said impassively.
'And I shall provide food to the prisoner myself, later in the day.'
He would make sure that Devasena would understand that the pyre she was making was for herself.
