Borne by Varuna

By J.U. Menon

The ancient kingdom of Jālaka is without an heir. Its hope rests with the eldest Rajkumari, who must, in time, produce a successor to the throne. But what if the Rajkumari entertains hopes of ascending to the throne herself?

When Rajkumari Chitra of Jālaka is banished from the kingdom due to a prophecy, she decides to take matters into her own hands. Masquerading as boys, she and her trusted companion Saubha join a gurukul to get trained on statecraft and warfare. Here, she competes with the students to win the legendary Varunāstra. Chitra’s joy, however, is short-lived when her guru is brutally murdered by assassins from Dvipura. A grief-stricken Chitra along with an army of gurukul students, Rakshasas, Gandharvas and Kinnaras, sets out to avenge the guru. But the odds are stacked heavily against them. With just weeks left for her Swayamvara, can Chitra take on Dvipura’s massive army and finally convince the Jālakans, and her father, that she alone is worthy of the throne?

Set in the time of the Mahabharata, author J.U. Menon’s Borne by Varuna follows Chitra’s extraordinary journey to acquire forbidden knowledge and discover her true potential, ultimately rewriting her own destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: May 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9789358833706

J.U. Menon

J.U. Menon is an award-winning scientist and an author with a deep passion for Indian history and mythology. Her debut novel 'The Dream Catchers' took the readers on a journey through the dream world, where they encountered an assortment of creatures from Indian mythology. Her second novel, ‘Borne by Varuna’, is a riveting tale set in the time of the Mahabharata, that will transport the readers to an enchanting world of controversial prophecies, moral dilemmas, mythical creatures and epic battles. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling and dreaming up new scenarios for her books.

Book preview

Chapter 1

the Runaway Rajkumari

The outskirts of Jālaka, 3142 BCE

Rajkumari Chitra paused by the door of the run-down hut. Her eyes darted to her sides and she adjusted the strip of cloth masking the lower half of her face. The street remained reassuringly deserted, save for the two boys kicking a ball to each other at the far corner.

Chitra’s shoulders loosened. She took a deep breath and strode towards her horse, Pankti. The noonday sun was severe on her back as she patted the horse and mounted it. Just then, a woman appeared by the door of the hut.

Can I not persuade you to stay a while longer, Mahodayā? Lunch is almost ready.

Earlier, Chitra had seen the steaming pot of rice gruel cooking on the brick stove in the hut. There was barely enough in there to feed the woman, her bedridden husband and her toddler who now appeared behind her, peering shyly from between the folds of her skirt. And yet, she was insisting on feeding her guest.

Jālakan hospitality never ceased to amaze Chitra. Their willingness to share what little they had, even with a masked stranger like her, showed that they truly embodied the spirit of the mantra ‘Athithi devo bhava’ - the guest is equivalent to God.

No, I must be on my way, Chitra replied gruffly. But thank you.

She hesitated, then reached for the silk pouch tied to her waistband. There’s something I wanted to give you… if you don’t mind. The woman extended her palms curiously and Chitra dropped the pouch into them. The former shook out the contents, and Chitra saw the gold from the coins reflected in her stunned eyes. There was no greed there – only wonder.

H-how – why – the woman stammered.

I - uh - work for the Mahārāja. I hope this will suffice… for your husband’s treatment.

Long live our benevolent Mahārāja! cried the woman, tears streaming down her soot-covered cheeks as she held the coins to her eyes. Thank you, Mahodayā!

Let’s go, Pankti. Chitra patted her horse.

But the horse had barely trotted a few steps when suddenly –

HALT RIGHT THERE!

The thunder of dozens of galloping hooves shattered the silence.

Chitra twisted around. She swore under her breath.

Faster! she cried, applying pressure to the sides of her horse. The woman gasped and pulled her child close.

Pankti responded. His strides became longer as they charged down the street and turned into a small market- place in an alley.

The marketgoers shrieked and flattened themselves against the walls, and the vendors lunged for their wares as the horse chase cut through the crowd. Several heads turned to stare in wonder.

The footfalls of her pursuers rang in Chitra’s ears as she directed Pankti safely out of the marketplace and into a quieter residential area.

How was she to throw them off her scent?

Pankti stumbled sideways in the wind and neighed in agitation.

It’s ok, calm down, soothed Chitra.

Another gust of wind caught her unaware, dislodging the ends of her yellow turban masking the lower half of her face. Chitra reached for it desperately but it flitted out of her grasp and fluttered behind her like a banner. The wind gushed past her bright, kohl-lined eyes, making them water, and through her golden jhumki earrings, rattling them like scores of temple bells.

She turned to check on her pursuers, the soldiers from the palace, who were hot on her trail. One of them caught sight of her face. She saw recognition dawn in his eyes.

IT’S THE RAJKUMARI! WE’VE FOUND HER!

STOP, RAJKUMARI!

Chitra directed Pankti past the last of the houses. The path had now given way to a strip of barren land. She saw the pinprick trees of the Aranya forest swaying in the distance.

It was then that a glint of silver shot past her ear.

Chitra gasped. Her eyes quickly found the arrow lodged firmly in the ground. She hauled at the reins and guided Pankti around the arrow. This impediment cost her valuable time - her chasers closed in and sent forth a volley of arrows.

But this time, Chitra was prepared. She navigated through the arrows deftly.

Stop, Rajkumari! the soldiers called again. You are approaching Jālaka’s borders. You have nowhere to go!

The enemy kingdom of Akshashila lies beyond! someone else shouted out.

Chitra glanced at the stone walls in the distance. She had only heard of Jālaka’s borders from her sevikas. It looked much more striking up close. Atop the watchtowers, fluttering proudly in the wind, was the scarlet flag of Jālaka embossed with the image of a single drawn golden bow with three golden arrows against it.

Chitra pulled at the reins. Behind her, she heard the other horses grind to a halt.

She took a minute to compose herself before steering Pankti around. That was when she got a proper look at her pursuers. There were at least a dozen helmeted horse riders armed with spears, swords, bows and arrows.

Who in the palace thought that it was a good idea to send a small army after an unarmed runaway Rajkumari?

Chitra’s eyes darted towards the Aranya forest for a brief moment. The soldiers had begun to relax and lower their weapons, evidently under the impression that she was cornered.

A grin slowly spread across Chitra’s face.

She knew she would pay dearly for this moment of recklessness – the news of her latest discretion must have reached her father’s ears by now. But it was a price she was willing to pay.

Go, Pankti! she cried. Her horse changed directions in an instant, taking off in a cloud of dust into the forest before the soldiers could react.

The benefit of borrowing a horse from Jālaka’s stables, was that it had been trained since young to find its way back to the stables from any corner of the kingdom.

The sun had begun to set, smearing the skies with vermillion as Chitra sneaked Pankti back into the royal stables through the back. The horse seemed to understand the gravity of the situation as it exited the forest and squeezed silently past the narrow opening in the hedge.

The elderly stableman emerged from within the stables as they approached, wiping his face with the rag on his shoulder. He paused hearing the sound of hooves and looked up, squinting.

Chitra didn’t have time to hide. She brought Pankti to a halt and slid down, glad that the gathering darkness hid her burning face.

She had sneaked Pankti out a few times before, but had never been caught – or perhaps the stableman had intentionally turned a blind eye to her antics.

His face betrayed no emotion now as he bowed to her.

I am sorry, Chitra said in a small voice. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.

The man shook his head. I will take a thousand-and-one reprimands for my Rajkumari. But do be careful. They tell me you got very close to the borders!

I am not a child, Mahodaya! Chitra cried. I know that I mustn’t cross into Akshashila.

The man winced at the name. "Your guards will be relieved to see you safe - the Mahārāja had threatened to take their heads. I will let them know you are here. Please accept my pranams."

The stableman bowed again with his palms together. He then got hold of Pankti’s reins and led the horse into the stables, leaving Chitra feeling miserable.

She sighed deeply into the air. The wet grass brushed against her borrowed dhoti as she paced.

All her life, Chitra had been told that the Jālakan Rajkumaris must stay within the boundaries of the palace, emerging only when it was time for their Swayamvara – the grand ceremony where, after years of not being allowed a choice in anything, they were suddenly thrust into a massive gathering of royalty from all over Bhāratvarsha and made to choose their husband.

For the first thirteen years of her life, Chitra had never even seen what lay beyond the sky-high palace walls. It was only in the last year that she had managed to venture out in disguise – with trusted palace sevikas at first, and then on her own. She was fairly certain she was the only Jālakan Rajkumari to have gotten as far as the kingdom’s borders by herself.

She had not done this for fame - she was too famous for her own good already - but because she yearned to know more about Jālaka. These stolen opportunities had helped her learn so much about her kingdom and the people that called it their home. Her thoughts went to the woman and her little boy in the hut.

The footsteps of approaching soldiers made her turn around. Chitra stiffened; behind them, reflecting the flickering light off their torches was the bane of her life – the palanquin.

If eyes could shoot arrows, the palanquin would have been reduced to ashes under the Brahmāstra of Chitra’s glare.

"Pranam, Rajkumari."

She crossed her arms. I’ll need a horse.

She watched the soldiers in the front exchange glances. Their expressions clearly told her they had expected this response.

The news of your flight from the palace has spread throughout the kingdom, Rajkumari. There is a crowd outside the gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of you…

They let the sentence hang in mid-air.

It was then that Chitra perceived faint mutterings from beyond the gates. The last thing she wanted at the end of this very long day was to be stared down by a large, disapproving mob.

She turned her attention back to the soldiers, who were still watching her warily.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then, resigning herself to her fate, Chitra strode towards the palanquin. The soldiers hastened to draw the thick scarlet curtains apart and she settled herself on the embroidered cushion within.

The palanquin gave a slight wobble as the palanquin-bearers lifted it onto their shoulders. Chitra gripped the carved wooden railings tightly as the procession began to move.

Hoarse whispers greeted her as soon as the gates creaked open.

It seemed like the whole of Jālaka had turned up outside. Shrouded by the curtains, Chitra could not see them, but heard enough to know that it was a sizeable gathering.

The Rajkumari is supposed to be very pretty isn’t she? she heard a child ask someone. Mother told me. I want to see!

Hush, child!

I always knew that one was trouble, an old lady’s whisper carried over to her. Didn’t I tell you Sarita?

Drop her outside Jālaka’s gates if she likes to run away so much! someone said angrily.

Hear, hear, several others joined him.

HEY! barked one of the soldiers. Do you want to keep your head on your shoulders? Hold your tongue then!

Chitra leant against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to drown out the disapproving whispers. If the people were this angry, she didn’t want to imagine what was happening in the palace.

There were times when the procession barely moved, and Chitra heard her guards bark at the crowd to make them disperse. Still, it took nearly half an hour to arrive at the gates to the palace complex - a journey that usually took no more than ten minutes.

She sighed in relief as the gates finally closed behind her, shutting out the disapproving mutterings and whispers.

The soldiers led the procession by the side of the main palace, past the Maharanis’ quarters, and finally came to a halt by the relatively smaller edifice that was home to Chitra and her two younger step-sisters.

The soldiers hastened to draw the curtains of the palan-quin apart.

Chitra had barely hopped out and started up the marble steps towards the front door, when - There you are! Is this the time for you to be returning home?

Chitra looked up into the stern but motherly face of a lady in her early thirties. This was Bhakti - her paricharika who, it appeared, had been pacing frantically by the doors.

Bhakti-

Don’t you ‘Bhakti’ me! Bhakti burst out as she hurried down the steps. Her eyes took in Chitra’s outfit. Where did you get those dreadful clothes from?

Chitra pursed her lips. One of the sevikas had sneaked in a dhoti, tunic and turban so Chitra could disguise herself during her trips out of the palace. But she would rather die than disclose the sevika’s name.

Feet covered in mud, Bhakti continued without waiting for an answer, –grass sticking to your clothes, twigs in your hair- she pulled out a couple from Chitra’s long dark hair. She had lost the turban somewhere in the forest. And what’s this –

Chitra winced as Bhakti grabbed her arm. Ow!

It was then that she noticed the bloody gash on her wrist. She must have gotten it while riding through the forest.

Bhakti gasped. Come with me!

She dragged Chitra up the steps.

You can leave. Thank you! Chitra turned and called out to the soldiers, who were waiting for her permission to adjourn.

I am going to the Mahārāja first thing tomorrow morning, that’s what I’m going to do, said Bhakti hotly as they entered the circular main hall with shining white marble floors and exquisitely carved marble pillars. Bring me my concoctions! she ordered one of the passing sevikas, who scurried away.

-and I’ll tell him to lock you up until your Swayamvara, continued Bhakti as Chitra slumped into one of the upholstered benches by the wall.

The sevika returned with a silver tray containing several small jars, and Bhakti lifted the lids of her many herbal pastes and elixirs until she found what she was looking for.

She strode towards Chitra in a huff.

Hold out your arm!

Chitra knew better than to protest. The minty scent of Bhakti’s herbal paste soon filled her nostrils.

Bhakti continued to mutter under her breath.

When Chitra’s mother, the chief Maharani, had passed away at childbirth, the other Maharanis of the Mahārāja had refused to accept the responsibility of the newborn girl. It was Bhakti who had stepped in and offered to take care of Chitra, much to everyone’s relief. Bhakti had come to Jālaka as a teenager, as part of Chitra’s mother’s retinue when the latter had married the Mahārāja. She was fiercely loyal to Chitra’s mother, and now to Chitra. Over the years, Chitra had come to regard her as the closest thing she knew to a parent.

You are Jālaka’s future! Bhakti huffed as she finished bandaging the wound. You will be the mother of the future Mahārāja one day. If a drop of your blood had fallen on this land –

Uff Bhakti, stop being so dramatic. I am perfectly alright.

Yes, by God’s grace you are. But what if –

She paused – a sevika had come to a grinding halt in front of them, nearly out of breath.

Rajkumari, a g – guard from the main palace seeks p - permission to enter.

Bhakti shot a panicked glance at Chitra. At this time?

Send him in, Chitra replied.

She sat up as a guard appeared by the main door and crossed the hall towards them.

He bowed low and stood with his eyes to the floor.

Yes? she enquired.

"Pranam, Rajkumari. The Mahārāja asks for your immediate presence in the Council chamber."

Bhakti breathed in sharply. No matter what she had said earlier, it was clear that she had no intention of ever going to the Mahārāja to complain.

Chitra glanced at her and then at the soldier. She had never been to the Council chamber before. The throne room and the Council chamber were out of bounds for her and her sisters. Her father must be livid…

But she hasn’t had her meals yet! protested Bhakti. And she has to wash up – and – and - change – and –

The Mahārāja wants to see her right now, Bhakti Mahodayā. The chariot is waiting outside.

But she can’t go to the Mahārāja like – like this! cried Bhakti, gesturing at Chitra’s clothes.

But Chitra stood up. Lead me to him.

She had been to the main palace only twice in her life to attend festivities in connection with the birth of her younger step-sisters. Chitra supposed she too may have been brought to the main palace when she was born, but she obviously did not remember this. But then again, the palace was in mourning at that time over the death of her mother, so she may not have been brought over at all.

The cool night air encircled her as the chariot retraced her journey back to the main palace. The grounds were silent, but she knew the guards were out and about. They always were.

The chariot soon came to a halt in front of the main palace. The guard had followed on horseback, and he now dismounted and bowed as Chitra got down and headed up the steps towards the large, imposing iron front doors. She was acutely aware of how dishevelled and un-Rajkumari-like she looked. She did a quick survey of herself and found a large muddy splotch on her dhoti that she hadn’t noticed earlier.

A peek at a mirror in the hallway showed that her hair was thankfully twig-less, but her face was tanned and grimy. She made a half-hearted attempt to comb through her hair and scrub her face with her hands. But before she could do much else, they had reached the door of the chamber.

The Rajkumari is here, said the guard who had escorted her.

The Mahārāja wants her to be sent right in, the door guard replied. He opened the door a crack, drew in a deep breath and announced loudly, Rajkumari Chitra – eldest daughter of the Mahārāja of Jālaka!

He then stepped aside to allow Chitra to pass.

Chitra’s first impression was that the chamber was larger than the rooms in the Rajkumaris’ palace. Every inch of wall was covered in thick tapestries of deep scarlet with weaves of golden embroidery. The plush red carpeting was soft and she felt a pang of guilt for muddying it with her soiled feet.

A reflective gleam caught her eye. Directly in front of her were a set of ten heavy chairs facing each other, five to a side. Beyond them, on a raised platform, was an elaborate golden throne with red cushions. And on this throne was placed a golden crown inlaid with egg-sized rubies and tiny diamonds and emeralds that gleamed innocently as they caught the light of the oil lamps illuminating the chamber.

An audible sigh made Chitra turn. Her father was standing with his back to her, regarding a large portrait on a section of the wall not taken up by tapestries. She recognized it as the portrait of Mahārāja Chidrupa – her handlebar-moustached ancestor who had successfully led his troops against invaders attacking Jālaka from three sides at the same time. Their dynasty came to be known as the Chidrupa dynasty after him.

Chitra joined her palms together. "Pranam, father."

The Mahārāja turned. His lips parted as he took in her grimy appearance.

Father, I -

A cough from the other side of the room made Chitra pause and turn again.

Her father’s ministers were by a table in the corner, rolling up birchbark scrolls and sealing them with Jālaka’s wax seal.

She gulped down her disappointment. She had thought that her father had summoned her to speak in private.

One of the ministers gathered the scrolls and marched towards her father.

The letter has been prepared per your instructions, sire, he said. We will hand this to the messengers.

That’s good – that’s good, the Mahārāja said distractedly.

He glanced once more at Chitra and strode towards his throne. A fan-bearer scurried forward to shift the crown gently to a side table before the Mahārāja sat down.

Have a seat, he told his ministers.

Chitra remained standing awkwardly. The Mahārāja raised an eyebrow. What is the matter, Chitra?

Um – I don’t know where to sit.

You can take this empty seat right here, Rajkumari, one of the ministers indicated the seat next to his.

Chitra strode towards it and plopped down. The ministers were looking at the Mahārāja in rapt attention, so she too did the same.

Her father rubbed his knees, swinging back and forth. He glanced at her once more.

Do you know why you are summoned?

Chitra was not sure what to say. She tried to interpret the emotion behind the large hereditary moustache. How much did he know?

Her father sighed. Chitra, did you leave the palace today?

I didn’t m-

Yes or no?

She blushed. Yes.

And you rode your horse all the way to our borders?

Y-Yes.

Even though our soldiers begged you to stop?

Chitra looked down. From the corner of her eye, she saw the minister beside her shake his head.

"And I am told this is not the first time. There have been other instances where your sevikas were unable to locate you for several hours at a time."

But the Rajkumaris in other kingdoms are allowed to go out as they please! The Rajkumaris of Madra and Manipura and Dwaraka are all trained in warfare! And-

But we are not other kingdoms, Rajkumari, a minister interrupted her. We are Jālaka… and the rules are different here.

Chitra looked at her father, who was watching her intently.

But clearly those rules put in place for your own safety don’t mean anything to you. Digressing from your duties – and from what is expected of you - has become second nature to you.

Chitra’s mouth fell open. She found her vision blurred by the appearance of sudden tears.

In the fourteen years of her life, she could count the number of times she had met her father, on her fingers. She had thought that this was one of those times… that her father would call her and perhaps tell her off in private. On her way to the main palace, she had mentally rehearsed what she would tell him – that she wanted to work for Jālaka – and that she would like to be enrolled in a gurukul that could train her in statecraft and warfare. But here he was, reprimanding her in front of his ministers, whose silent disapproval of her was so loud they could not have made it clearer had they screamed it at her.

Chitra brushed the tears away. Surely staying cooped up within the walls of the palace is not a ‘duty’, father, she said, fighting to keep her voice from trembling. I think the word you are looking for is ‘captivity’.

One of the ministers gasped, but Chitra kept her eyes fixed on her father. His face had turned a shade darker.

No person - man or woman, dead or alive – had the audacity to speak to the Mahārāja of Jālaka like this and still find their head upon their shoulders.

I see, said the Mahārāja after a very long pause. He began to twirl his moustache. I see. So that’s how you feel.

He glanced at his ministers. We can’t have the walls of the palace stifling the Rajkumari, can we now?

His ministers shook their heads.

I am glad you mentioned this Chitra, continued the Mahārāja,– so glad... because now I am certain you will be in agreement with my plans for you.

Plans? asked Chitra warily.

The Mahārāja nodded. And they will take you far away from the dreaded ‘walls’ of the palace.

He gestured towards a scroll in his minister’s hands, "That is a letter for Achāryā Ananta, who runs a balika gurukul in the Dvaita forest, requesting her to accept you as her pupil. If she is in agreement, you will study there for the next two years until it is time for your Swayamvara."

What? B-but-

"Your aunts and cousins studied there not too long ago. It is a very reputed balika gurukul and I have no doubt you will fit in well. Her father watched her for a moment longer. Our Rajkumaris do not make us a laughing stock in front of our people … it is high time that things changed."

He looked pointedly at his guard by the door. That will be all.

The guard came scurrying forward and bowed to Chitra, waiting for her to follow him out of the room.

Chitra got up numbly. Her father had pronounced her sentence and dismissed her without even giving her a chance to explain.

She paused by the door, hesitated, and turned. Her father was deep in conversation with his minister.

You are right, father, she said loudly. Things are changing.

The Mahārāja glanced up.

Until this afternoon, it was not the norm for your soldiers to treat me like an escaped convict. Did they tell you they tried to shoot me down?

Shoot you –?

Uh-huh. With arrows.

The Mahārāja’s eyes widened, but Chitra turned on her heels and stormed out of the room before he could say another word.

The explosion of voices within the Council chamber reached her just as she arrived at the end of the corridor. She paused to listen.

It looked like her father had not known about this. Well, at least the soldiers will think twice before shooting at her again.

Anger and confusion reigned in Chitra’s mind as she rode back to the Rajkumaris’ palace. She barely noticed the palace workers in the grounds pausing to watch her, nor did she see them whispering to each other and shaking their heads.

Bhakti came hurrying down the steps the moment she alighted.

What happened? What did he say? she asked with worry.

Chitra couldn’t bring herself to repeat what happened.

Everything’s fine, Bhakti. I’d like to be alone.

She climbed up the marble steps to the front doors, which the guards hurriedly pulled open, and crossed the main hall in quick strides. She took the stairs and walked down a couple of corridors until she arrived at her suite.

"Ekanta, she instructed the guards outside her suite as she entered it. I want to be left alone."

After a quick wash, Chitra made a beeline for her bed and sunk into it, hiding her face in the pillows.

She knew of this balika gurukul through a cousin who went there previously. It had produced some of the most reputed female scholars of the day, who were experts in literature, history and the Vedas. Students there were also trained in classical music, calligraphy, dancing and cooking among other things. But none of those topics interested Chitra.

She twisted around and regarded the flowering creepers carved into her ceiling. A memory from her childhood came rushing into her mind…

Bhakti you’re not listening! wailed an eight-year-old Chitra, stamping her feet as she followed Bhakti around, holding the end of her uttariya.

I am, my little one! Bhakti replied in a harried voice as she lifted the decorative cushions and checked underneath them,But your sister’s golden rattle is missing, and I must find it before the Maharanis – your stepmothers – kick up a fuss. Did you see it anywhere?

Chitra shook her head. Rattles are for babies, she said, making a face. She thought for a moment. Bhakti – could I have a bow?

Bhakti paused in her task of checking under the bed and turned to look at her. A bow, Rajkumari?

Chitra nodded. Like the one Maharani Satyabhama has?

Who – the wife of Vāsudeva Krishna?

Chitra nodded eagerly. "You told me how she slayed Narakāsura in battle, remember?

Y-Yes. But that happened a few years ago.

Tell me about it again, Bhakti? Please please please?

I will, Chitra. Just as soon as I find that dratted rattle- said Bhakti pulling herself up and checking behind a pillar.

Chitra let go of Bhakti’s uttariya and pretended to hold an arrow against her imaginary bow. She scanned the room, moving her make-believe bow around until she identified a worthy target - the wooden bird decoration by the door.

Shwoom! said Chitra, adding sound effects as she released her imaginary arrow. "Bhakti – look! The wicked asura is dead! I saved Jālaka!"

Very good, Chitra, said a distracted Bhakti.

I will be an archer when I grow up, Chitra continued firmly. Like Maharani Satyabhama. And I will protect Jālaka from enemies - like my father does!

Bhakti closed her eyes and sighed. She would later sit Chitra down and explain to her that Jālakan Rajkumaris were not allowed to be archers or rulers. But once Chitra had made up her mind, there was no going back.

The present-day Chitra blinked. She didn’t lose hope as a child and she wasn’t planning to, now.

Everyone kept talking about her Swayamvara and how she would be the mother of the