Chapter 9: The Second Bridal Chamber

Devendra asked her to marry him on a Thursday morning.

He set a velvet box on the breakfast table. A single deep ruby, the colour of the tilak, set in gold. He had never used her name before. That morning he did.

"Marry me, Yogini."

She drank her tea. She set the cup down.

"Friday. Three weeks from Friday. The estate will host. The province will be invited."

Devendra nodded. He placed the ring on the table, left the room, and did not look back.

She rang the silver bell. The body appeared. She showed it the ring.

"On the day, this will be on my finger. You will kiss it, once, before the priest. Then you will return to your knees."

"Yes, Madam."

The man inside heard the words. The man inside saw the ring. The man inside felt something snap. Not the plan — the plan held. Something else. The possession.

She was his. He had won her. Three hundred sovereigns. She was his wife. And now she was marrying another man. A man who was adequate. A man who was sufficient. A man who did not need a cure. A man who did not have three inches in a steel cage.

The mangalsutra. The cord. The black bead. The symbol that would tie her to Devendra. The thing that would make her his — Devendra's, not the man inside's.

*She is mine. I won her. I — I had eight inches. For thirty seconds. If the fine print had not — I would have taken her. I would have married her properly. I would have — but the fine print took the eight inches and left me three and now she is marrying a man who has whatever he has and I am on my knees with three inches in steel and I — *

The possession surged. The possession was not love. The possession was the thing that had always been there — the thing that had made him win the wager, the thing that had made him strike her. The possession was the core. The possession was the devil.

And the devil found a crack.

The body obeyed her. The body could not defy her. But the body could be directed — the man inside discovered this in the days before the wedding — the body could be directed when the man inside's desire aligned with an opportunity the body was already moving through. The body crawled through the hall, arranging the seating. The body crawled past the velvet box on the dais. The body's hand paused. The hand opened. The hand lifted the cord. The hand tucked the cord into the fold of the loincloth. The hand closed. The body crawled on.

The man inside had done it. The man inside had moved the body's hand. The crack in the cage. The crack was small. But the crack was there.

*The crack. I can move the hand. I can — the plan. Cure. Endure. Escape. Conquer. Get the eight inches back. The crack is part of the escape. If I can move the hand, I can — I can find a way to reverse the fine print. I can find a way to get the eight inches back. I can — *

The wedding proceeded. The velvet box was opened. The box was empty. The confusion. The twenty minutes of searching. The man inside watched through the body's eyes and felt — for the first time since the grove — satisfaction. The satisfaction of a man who has thrown a wrench into the machine.

Then Radha produced the cord. The man inside did not know how. The wedding proceeded. Devendra tied the mangalsutra. He applied the sindoor. He slid the ruby ring onto her finger. The body kissed the ring.

*She married him. She — the cord is on her neck. He tied it. She is — she is his. She is not mine. I had eight inches and I could not keep them for thirty seconds and now she is marrying a man who — *

The bridal chamber. The body stood guard. Eight hours. The man inside stood in the body and heard every sound. The sounds were worse this time — not the sounds of a lover, but the sounds of a husband. The sounds of a man who had the right to be there. The sounds of a man who was adequate.

The cage stirred. The cage held. The man inside raged. The body was at peace.

Morning. The door opened. Yogini stood in the doorway. She extended her left foot — the heel, dark leather.

"Before the bath. A moment. You have stood guard all night."

The body bent forward. The body took the heel in both hands. The body worshipped. The four movements. The leather. The seam. The tip. The polish. The cage stirred. The cage held.

*The three inches are straining. The three inches want to be eight. The three inches will never be eight. The fine print — the steel — I am licking a shoe. I had eight inches and now I am licking a shoe. I — *

She withdrew her foot. "Draw my bath."

The body rose. It walked to the bathroom.

The man inside walked with it. The man inside held the thread. The thread was the plan. Cure. Endure. Escape. Conquer. Get the eight inches back. The crack was the way out. The man inside had found the crack. The man inside had moved the hand. The man inside had hidden the cord. The crack was small, but the crack was there.

The thread held. The devil waited. The devil had a new plan. The plan was not just to escape. The plan was to get the eight inches back. The plan was to find the fine print and tear it up. The plan was to be the man he had been for thirty seconds — the eight-inch man, the whole man — and to take her, and to take the province, and to take every woman who had ever pitied the three inches.

The devil waited. The crack was there. The plan was the only thing the devil had.

The thread held.