Chapter 2, Page 2
While we waited, I tried to engage the princess in light banter to make sure that I didn’t anger her anymore than she already was. She was seated cross legged on the chair, uncharacteristic of Yb again. With every difference that I saw in the princess and Yb, I felt the last of the flames that was kept alive by the thought of her still being in there slowly fade away. I tried to make small talk with her while we waited on our food, more to hold on to my sanity than anything else. Not willing to let go of the hope that I could reach my Yb, I asked her about the name boards on the shops outside, again checking to see if she read what I read. It appeared to me that all she could read was Kannada, or at least all that she chose to read was Kannada. As she sat cross legged facing me on that table by the window, with her right hand on her right knee and her left hand holding the glass filled with water, the princess looked around her with a look of displeasure. With her back upright in that now all too familiar regal pose, she looked around and then at me and commented “the table is quite small. I wonder why they even make tables like this. There’s no room here to stretch my arms.” I said “The small size makes it cozy.” I said quickly, trying to avoid all forms of silence at this point.. “Hmm” was all she said in response and that sounded almost as frightening as an actual threat. It seemed ages before the food was served.
Finally our food was placed in front of us and the waiter took leave. I couldn’t eat much at this point, my throat was dry and parched from fear and anxiety. Her first reaction when she saw the food again was “ ole illadhe hoge ”. I stared blankly back at her, when sensing my lack of comprehension, she said “smoke without a stove”. On another day, I would’ve admired the beauty of the language and the rhythm with which it described the sizzlers. But now, I was far too lost to fear to appreciate things such as the languages’ beauty. This did nothing to bolster my fast declining hope. She spoke as though her instinctive reaction was Kannada and English was something that she was taught by the colonials. So saying and smiling weakly she started eating her food. I looked on curiously, I admit, at how quickly the princess consumed her food which was flaming hot; for I could still see the smoke from her mouth as she chewed. To top it all she ordered hot water; talk about adding fuel to the fire. I watched as she ate quickly and asked that I do so as well, “food must be had while it is hot” she said simply; which I thought coming from Yb was rich; well I suppose it was princess talking; hard to remember that when the princess was speaking through the familiar form of my beloved wife. Incidentally, Yb is the slow eater between us and she hates consuming any food that is hot beyond reason. So I watched helplessly as she continued scalding her mouth with boiling hot food. I myself couldn’t eat much, I wanted to leave as soon as I could, but was mortified at the prospect of having to head back to the palace with the princess. I was torn between two not so great choices.
As we continued eating it seemed that the princess was willing to open up and share more and I wasn’t quite sure if I should encourage it, I let her do so though, as the alternative wasn’t something that I wished to contemplate. She passed a few comments on the waiter who was much too eager to serve us; maybe he sensed a royal presence as well. She remarked on how people didn't have any patience these days and glumly looked outside. As she finished eating, I asked her, “shall we go to BR hills tomorrow or shall we head home, back to Bangalore ?”, to be honest I was more anxious to get home at this point. My hope here was that somehow the princess would leave my poor wife alone and we could put all this behind us as soon as possible. She simply shrugged in response and paused with a blank stare outside the window. As she sipped on her hot water, she looked at me intently and suddenly said “let's go to Jaganmohan palace.” with a sharpness in her voice that surprised me, well more frightened than surprised. My mind was now racing with a thousand different scenarios each more terrifying than the next. I quickly searched for Jaganmohan palace on my phone and found some stories related to it being occupied by the royals for a while after the main palace caught fire and about how it had been converted to an art gallery.