Prahlada thought the garden was always the most beautiful part of any palace, and when he saw his friend among the flowers, he took off running to her. She was one of the servants, tall and slender with long hair like curling vines. Cutting flowers and bathed in the gentle glow of the sky, Prahlada thought she looked like she just came back from playing with stars. A winding path cut through the shrubs and bushes, and she stood at the far end examining the petals and shape of each blossom carefully, absorbed in her morning work.
Prahlada skipped down the path to her. She was soft as he wrapped his arms around her waist and giggled as he pressed into her as tightly as he could. She struggled to free herself. “No! Young prince,” she cried in mock panic, “your arms are too strong! Free me!”
“No, sister!” cried Prahlada, snuggling his face into her warm side further. “I missed you so much. Where have you been for so long?”
Kamala dropped the basket of flowers, wrapping her arms around the child. “I missed you, too,” she said. “I’d gone to visit my aunt in the village.”
“How is she?”
Kamala’s laughter sparkled like dew on delicate petals. “She’s fine,” she said. Prahlada considered Kamala seriously; she’d been gone for longer than usual. “We’d missed each other,” she explained, “So it was nice to see her for a few days.”
Prahlada thought about this for a moment. He had missed Kamala so dearly when she was gone, he thought that Kamala must have missed her aunt while she was here with him in the palace. “How come you live here and your aunt lives there?”
“Well, your father and my aunt went to the same gurukula, Prahlada. So I came here to work when I was asked to.” Prahlada nodded. His father had been saying how one day Prahlada would have a lot of work to do running the kingdom. It all sounded like a lot of work that wouldn’t make him happy. How can you be free when you’re always chasing something?
“Does everyone have to go to a gurukula?” he asked.
“Of course,” Kamala said. “School is where you go to learn. You’re getting older, little one. Soon, you will go to the gurukula, too. Any day now, in fact. Your father is already talking about it.”
Kamala picked up her basket and started down the garden path towards the palace entrance. “No! Sister, can we pick some hibiscus flowers from the field first?” Prahlada called, stumbling after her down the winding path. Kamala always walked fast and with purpose, and right now, Prahlada wished she would slow down. He had come all this way to see Kamala. He couldn’t bear to see her for so little time now that she had finally returned from her village.
“The call of a true heart with full devotion is always answered,” Prahlada thought with wonder as Kamala abruptly turned to him. She looked like she was going to protest, arguing that she had too much work to do. But then, she walked back to Prahlada, laughing and shaking her head. She pushed the basket onto her hip and rested a hand on Prahlada’s shoulder when she approached him. “Sister,” he thought warmly, allowing her to turn and guide him to the edge of the garden where the hibiscus bloomed.
The hibiscus flowers grew in a small field one had to climb across bushes to reach. It was shaded, with large trees laden with flowers dotting it. Their blossoms would be knocked off of swinging branches by even a gentle breeze. If the garden was the most beautiful part of the palace, this field was the most beautiful part of the garden.
The hibiscus bushes here climbed high. The flowers were plentiful today. Kamala lifted Prahlada, and he searched the plant. He settled on a few flowers, gingerly pulling them off their stems. He picked the most beautiful ones he could see. He dropped them into her basket, folded his hands, and closed his eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Thanking the tree for the flowers,” he said. He felt her long, slender fingers slide through his hair as she tousled it. “What good deeds,” Prahlada wondered, “could ever lead to a friend so lovely?”
“What?” she asked. The young prince grinned and folded his hands again, bowing his head a second time, this time to the young girl. “What are you doing?!”
“I’m thanking you for helping me pick the most pretty flowers and for coming back from your aunt’s house to play with me.”
She rolled her eyes and picked up her basket. “Oh yes, Prahlada, this is the only job I have left in my life. To come back here to play with you.”
Stepping back onto the garden path, a guard approached them. “Look,” Kamala said, “you must be in trouble for some mischief.” She turned to the guard and addressed him. “What’s happened?”
“The King has summoned his son.” He turned to Prahlada and smiled. “You seem to be wanted by some of the best teachers in the universe! You best hurry. They aren’t to be kept waiting.”
“See?” Kamala said to a wide-eyed Prahlada. “I told you so.” Prahlada grinned, this time making an elaborate show of his obeisances. He could feel the guard’s confusion. The prince was slow and steady in his words, “You are indeed the wisest among us.”
Kamala swatted at him as the guard laughed. “You’re worse than even Devarishi Narada. At least he knows when to hold his tongue.” To Prahlada’s delight, Kamala sprinted towards the entrance gates as if she were trying to outrun his reply.
“Narayana, Narayana,” he called after her playfully. The guard shook his head and held his arm out towards the palace gates, gesturing Prahlada forward. Prahlada skipped along, following the friendly man to the grand hall where his father waited for him.
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