As dust hides the clarity of a mirror,
So the truth is concealed by illusion.
Wisdom is snared among the flames
Of a shape-shifting lust that can never be satisfied.
—Bhagavad Gita

“That braised venison was excellent, my dear.” Lord Kushal emitted a satisfied burp as he patted the slight bulge on his stomach. “And sesame oil does add a wonderfully smoky tang to our local wild rice. But do you not think,” he continued, as gravely as if he were assessing the current state of the Melukhhan government, “the brinjals could have used less turmeric and more roasting?”

“I shall tell Mandakini you said so,” Ishvari promised, tickled as always by the envoy’s odd habit of dissecting his weekly meal with her....

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