In the ancient republic of Vaishali, a childless couple discover an abandoned infant girl in a mango orchard. They name her Ambapali, one who sprouted from a mango. When she turns eighteen, Ambapali is forced to become a courtesan—the Bride of the City—under Vaishali’s laws which dictate that a woman as beautiful as her cannot be only one man’s wife. Ambapali bows before the iron law of her society, but does not allow herself to be crushed. She sets terms that make her residence, the Palace of Seven Worlds, a centre of power. While the richest and the most powerful men grovel before her, Ambapali bides her time even as she burns with revenge.

Vaishali Ki Nagarvadhu was published in Hindi in 1948-49 and remains an acclaimed work of Hindi fiction.

Excerpt

Her lips quivered like rose petals caressed by a morning breeze. When she took a deep breath and spoke, her voice flowed like music. ‘Gentlemen,’ she said in a firm but dewy tone that sent ripples of pleasure around her, ‘I have considered your order. I will accept the abominable, cursed law of the Vajji union if this august assembly will be so kind as to accept my terms. Gentlemen, the chief minister will convey these terms.’

A shocked silence greeted her words, and then a murmur picked up in volume. A middle-aged councilman, who had his moustache between his teeth, let go of it and protested in a reedy voice, ‘What did you say? Abominable, cursed law? Take back what you said, Ambapali. It is an insult to this assembly!’

‘Yes, yes!’ more voices joined in. ‘Take back those words. You cannot use such words!’

Ambapali spoke with ease, without seeming to raise her voice, but in words that rang out loud and clear in the hall. ‘Not only will I not take back those words, but I state that I shall repeat them a thousand times. This cursed law of the Vajji union is a blot on the great name of the Republic of Vaishali. Gentlemen, what is my crime? It is that God gave me the beauty that seems unfathomable in your eyes. For this, my life from this day onwards becomes different from other women born on the same day as me. For this, I am to be deprived of the rights that every bride of a family has. I cannot give my body and heart to one man that I love. I must sell this affectionate heart and this body oozing with all that men desire to those men that bid for them. You force me to do this by law. Cursed is the law that these courtiers’ woman-loving sons burn to protect with their sharp swords and the points of their spears. Cursed is the law that these merchants’ sons are keen to protect with the influence their money buys.’ Her voice was louder now. ‘This law is fit to be cursed a million times.’ She stopped, her flushed face and trembling fingers betraying her agitation.

There was a deafening silence in the assembly hall.

‘Gentlemen,’ Ambapali continued in a sober tone, ‘I have said what I had to say. If this assembly accepts my conditions, I offer my purity, womanhood, honour, beauty, youth, body—all that I have— to the Republic in the name of this cursed law. If you do not accept them, I shall await my executioner in the Blue Lotus Palace.’

She veiled her body, took Mahanaman’s hand and said, ‘Let us go.’ He first clasped her hand and then, put his hand on her shoulder. Together, they walked towards the chariot, followed by the young man who had accompanied Mahanaman earlier.

The people of the Republic of Vaishali looked on as if they had been struck dumb.