Veerata, the great general of Satayu, and temporary mayor of Satvikshila, had never felt so frustrated in all his twenty-five years of life. 

Every day, he squatted cross-legged on a straw floor mat in the mayor’s office, reviewing and signing a heap of parchments on a wooden writing desk. 

The room was spacious, extravagantly furnished, and painted a soothing shade of green. Glossy writing desks, luxurious straw floor mats, silk pillows, lush carpets made of rich coir, wall paintings on life-size papyrus sheets, clay pots with myriad indoor plants, incense dispensers in every corner, and straw window blinds, painted with intricate blue and red designs, adorned the place.

Veerata hated the place. His only respite from work was the scenic view of the university from the open window to his left. From time to time, he stared into the distance, wondering what Satya was doing, which class she was attending, and when he could visit her without incurring her teacher’s ire.

Two senior scribes assisted him, seated on their own floor mats. As per the official uniform for all scribes in the mayor’s palace, they wore cotton white garments. Her foreheads sported triple horizontal lines of sacred ash. 

The younger of the two used a desk in the right corner, recording daily procedures and agreements on to a fresh scroll. The older scribe sat directly in front of the young general, relaying instructions. 

Placing a new sheet on Veerata’s desk, he spoke. “This is an amendment to the expense statement on the construction of the new public toilets in the southern part of town. It details the additional sewage pipelines required as per the estimation of the construction company.”

“Pundit Ravi, I already approved this last week,” Veerata protested. “Why do I need to sign this again?”

“Senapati,” the old scribe, Ravi, replied. “You approved the additional raw material for the current set of installed sewage pipelines. This is an additional requirement for a new set that our engineer has already approved for installation.”

“Very well,” Veerata sighed in defeat, marking his signature on the parchment with a flourish. “What’s next?”

“We’ve finished all the pending matters in the transport and development department. We can now move on to the legal affairs department.”

“How many parchments?”

“About fifteen.”

With great effort, Veerata avoided voicing an outright refusal. 

“Pundit Ravi,” he asked, “when do I get a new mayor?” 

The old scribe raised his thin eyebrows a notch. He was a gaunt, middle-aged man with a bald head and minimal facial hair. His large protruding eyes, beak-like nose and barely discernible lips that disappeared into his mouth made him seem more sinister than cordial. He smiled at the young general’s impatience for his temporary mayoral duties. 

“Senapati,” he said, “as I have already informed you, we completed the interviews for the selection of the new mayor last week. We also sent the final list of three potential candidates to the palace for Samrat Padmapani’s review. In about a fortnight, we should get an official response on which candidate has secured the position of Mayor of Satvikshila.”

“I know all that,” Veerata snapped. “But why the delay? You could have completed all this two months ago.”

“Administrative matters take time.”

Veerata blinked. It was a standard reply for all official matters. Being used to military procedures, decisive action and prompt execution, he had no patience for the long-winded processes of the scribes. However, he had immense respect and affection for the kind old scribe, who always greeted him with a smile and a solution for every problem in Satvikshila. 

At length, Veerata reminded him. “I must leave for the new year festival at the palace within a month.”

“Yes, I am aware of that. We marked the case as highest priority and requiring Samrat’s prompt approval. Still, at the very least, we must wait for a fortnight to get our response. If all goes well, you will still have time to meet the new mayor before leaving for the palace.”

“Perhaps I can help speed up the process.”

“With all due respect, I would advise you not to. Intervention from higher authorities usually causes a breakdown of the process. The scribes at the palace might get confused and make irreparable mistakes. We might have to restart the whole thing from scratch. As temporary mayor of Satvikshila, it would be best for you to let the administration carry on as it is.”

Veerata opened his mouth to point out that this reply sounded more like a threat than logical reasoning. Thinking better of it, he stood up. “Let’s do the legal affairs department later this afternoon,” he grunted. “I need a break.”

Ravi’s eyes sparked. “You have an appointment coming up in an hour. Have you forgotten? I believe the petitioner will arrive soon.”

“Is it another one of those infernal merchants? I am in no mood to discuss my reasons for executing the last mayor or for raiding their illegal trading depots.”

“The merchants will meet you tomorrow morning. A young maiden requests today’s appointment regarding the pending license for her new store.”

Veerata’s eyes widened. “Her new store?”

Could it be?

Ravi looked satisfied. “Her name is Satya.”

Satya is coming to meet me?

Veerata asked aloud, without thinking, “She’s coming here?”

The old scribe grinned, revealing a set of yellow betel-stained teeth. “Senapati, you can take a break for half an hour.” 

Unable to hide his excitement at the thought of seeing Satya soon, Veerata rushed towards the door. As he touched the door handle, Ravi spoke again. 

“If I may,” he said, “perhaps it’s time to tell Satya about your feelings.”

Veerata stopped and turned to face him, flabbergasted. 

The old scribe continued. “In my experience, matters of the heart are best confessed as soon as possible.”

“How did you know?”

Veerata heard a quiet laugh from the other writing desk in the room, and glared at the younger scribe. 

The man apologized. “Forgive me, Senapati.”

Veerata snapped. “Does everyone in this palace know?”

Ravi fixed him with an accusing stare. “You haven’t been very discreet about it,” he said. “You visit her at the university often, don’t you?”

Veerata hesitated. “Confess to her?” he pondered aloud. “But will she accept?”

Ravi shrugged. “My wisdom tells me that there is no maiden in this kingdom who will not accept you unless she is already betrothed to someone else.”