My Favourite Girl - Blog Posts

Krishna and Rukmini for the Compass Rose meme. Thanks.😄

North

first encounter | (turnabout is) fair play | fool’s gold | forbidden fruit | the female of the species is more deadly than the male

They watch her, eyes glittering with greed, and anger tightens Rukmini’s throat once more: to this crowd of shameless men, she is no more than a prize, a possession that their friend has already claimed.

She forces herself to smile.

Let them look; they will never have more than this illusion of her, docile and demure. They are fools, each and every one of them, and treasure knows better than to stay in their hands.

South

(cold) comfort | confession | cloak and dagger |  crocodile tears | charmed life

Perhaps it is a tad dramatic to send a secret letter.

Rukmini cannot bring herself to regret it, though: always she has been wise Rukmini, prudent Rukmini, Rukmini to whom all answers are known. Some might suppose it was only that she craved some excitement in her life; so, at least, her brother supposes in her fury.

But in truth, she has as much of a taste for intrigue as her husband — and when one feels so, when one fights for her very life, who would not expect wise and prudent Rukmini to plot and scheme?

East

stars | songs and stories | (politics/misery makes for) strange bedfellows | silver lining | sea change

Someday, Rukmini knows, Dwaraka will return to the sea. She does not regret this: her kingdom, though beautiful, is but borrowed from the ocean, and outsiders may not enjoy his bounty for long.

No, what she dreads is that Dwaraka dares not abandon its duty while Krishna lives, but he cannot do so forever. Someday, Rukmini knows, Krishna must return to the heavens from which he came—and that day shall be her last on this earth.

West

just in time | joined at the hip | jam tomorrow | juvenile | journey’s end

Her heart stops a dozen times, once for every step that leads down the Devi temple. She feels alone, flanked though she is by waiting-women—at least until she hears the thunder of trotting horses.

A hand takes hers, and tugs her into the chariot; Rukmini laughs in delight.

“I trust,” says Krishna, “that I am not too late.”

“Not at all,” Rukmini replies, in every bit as excessively solemn a tone. “You are just in time.”

They beam at each other.