Folktale: The king’s twin princesses might be ill-fated. But they’re determined to live full lives

“Race you to the second tower,” Princess Nanda challenged her twin sister, Sunanda.

Sunanda crouched in a runner’s stance with her fingers touching the grey stones of the courtyard. “You’re on,” she shouted.

Both sisters took off at the exact same moment. They flew across the enclosed quadrangle of the fortress, bolted across the central stone stairway, down the grassy hill, legs pumping and wind gushing through their raven locks.

Nestled in the Himalayan foothills, the formidable fort sat on a shoulder of rock with the valley falling away in a dramatic drop. The Alaknanda and Pindar rivers, gushing from the glacier-fed uplands with a steady roar, carved the valley, stretching the view along steep slopes, gorges and high meadows. The distant hills, half-hidden in clouds, rose in layers – emerald green at the base, giving way to lofty, silvery-white peaks. Born to a warrior-clan ruling Chandpurgarh, both the princesses were raised as bold young girls. They trained alongside boys and were adept in martial arts, archery, sword-fighting, horse-riding and military skills suited to their illustrious lineage. Brahman priests and learned scholars instructed them in professional warfare, state administration, diplomacy and scriptures. They even enjoyed art, music and painting with equal passion. Apart from being skilled warriors and exceptional artists, the girls were ardent devotees of Lord Shiva, much like their father, the King of Chandpurghar.

At this moment, the king was standing at the end of the raised platform with a few courtiers and ministers, discussing state matters. The noise made the men turn around.

With lightning speed, the princesses were bursting across the field and heading towards them. They watched as Nanda gritted her teeth, gathered the last ounces of her strength and sprinted across the edge, well ahead of Sunanda.

A few ministers jumped to one side to prevent Nanda from ploughing into them.

“Whoa! Look where you are going, young lady,” the king laughed as Nanda skidded to a stop.

A couple of moments later, Sunanda descended close to her sister. The girls doubled over to catch their breath.

“Beat you!” Nanda winked at her sister, her lips curved in a proud smile.

Sunanda pretended to pout. Then she laughed, her eyes sparkling.

The king politely dismissed the courtiers and turned his attention to his daughters. He gazed at their glowing, sun-kissed faces, flushed cheeks, intelligent eyes and wind-swept hair – his daughters looked nothing less than warrior goddesses. An unmatched joy gushed through his heart.

He followed his daughters to the practice arena.

“I heard that you refused to include Ajeet Singh, the prime minister’s son, in your crew, Nanda,” the king said, suddenly remembering something. He cocked his head towards Nanda, his elder daughter.

“He is a coward and a traitor, Father!” Nanda frowned. “Last time, when the opposing team grilled him a little, he spilt our entire strategy. Though Sunanda has forgiven him for his blunder, I just can’t…”

A smile floated across the king’s lips. His firstborn, Nanda, had taken after him. Her fiery temperament, impulsive reactions and unforgiving stance towards traitors reminded him of himself and his quick-to-anger ancestors. In contrast, Sunanda was tender-hearted, generous and cautious. But there was no question that both the girls were compassionate, courageous, independent and kind.

His mind reeled back to the day when the girls were born and the royal priest had drawn their horoscopes.

“Keep a watch over the twins, O’ King. I see a danger looming over them,” the priest had said, pulling his lips into a tight line.

The king had paid heed to the priest’s warning. Though the fort, spread over multiple acres, was furnished with thick stone walls, watchtowers, narrow, well-guarded passages and interlocking stone masonry, providing ample security, the king ensured that his daughters were trained in warfare from the word go. But the prophecy had shaken him a bit more than he wanted it to. And because of this constant unease and worry, the princesses spent most of their days within the safe walls of the palace compound. The girls rarely ventured outside except for occasional visits to the temples or shrines.

The clang of metal javelins broke the king’s reverie.

He watched Sunanda pick up a metal-tipped javelin in her right hand and take her position. Though he was kept informed of the girls’ progress, he had yet to see them in person. Deep furrows knotted the king’s forehead; the javelin looked too big for the slender-framed Sunanda.

After a short run and a mighty heave, Sunanda flung the javelin high. It flew across half the field and landed well beyond the designated mark.

Sunanda stood at her place, smiling, while Nanda jumped up and down, punching her fist in the air and whooping loudly.

“Well done, Sunanda!” the king beamed.

“Wait till you see our archery, father,” Nanda announced, her chin angled and shoulders held high. “Sunanda and I can take on the entire group of boys on our own.”

The king’s eyes sparkled. In Nanda’s haughty tone and self-pride, he could see the shades of his younger self. He followed his daughters as they dashed to the training area for archery.

Several quivers with bows and arrows lay on a table. The targets were set up at different distances. Nanda and Sunanda each took a bow and an arrow. They nocked the arrow, tightened the string, aimed and took a shot.

Both arrows sailed straight to the centre of the most distant targets.

“Bullseye!” they yelled in unison.

The king’s face mirrored the princesses’ joy. His daughters were warrior goddesses not only in looks but also in manner, air and skill.

“They are as nimble-handed with their weapons as the most competent soldier on the battlefield. No one can touch even a hair on my girls’ heads,” the thought flashed across his head. But the next moment, under the surface, the priest’s words niggled at him. “May Lord Shiva keep you from any danger,” he mumbled a prayer, his eyes gazing skyward.

Excerpted with permission from Mysteries, Mountains, and Mythology: Uttarakhand’s Folktales Retold, Supriya Bansal, Rupa Publications.