THE COURTESAN OF JAIGARH (Complete)

Part 23-An Encounter

 Menaka sat with a hand to her head. What was she to do now? The merchant would complain to the king about the fraud being played on him. Of course, she would return the money, but it was a matter of breaking one's word that was punishable. She clapped for the guards who came running.

"Find the girl and her paramour, and drag them here by force, if necessary. I want the girl back at any cost."

"We'll do our best, milady," the chief of the guards promised.

"Why are you doing this, milady?" Neelanjana asked Menaka. "Let Valli live her life in peace."

"Should I let her endanger my life?" Menaka queried, a brow raised. "Do you wish to see me punished for reneging on my word?"

"I'll beg on my knees to the king to forgive you if I could, but Valli deserves her chance at happiness, surely."

"I do not care if that girl is happy or miserable. I only care for my reputation which has been tarnished. My men shall bring her back and hand her over to the merchant."

That was that, thought Neelanjana. There was no way to reason with the older woman. It was only left to her now to pray to the almighty to save her friend and Dhruva.

The dense darkness of night enveloped the land. It was banjar or badlands with scrub and conkerberry bushes. Wild acacia, palms, and other stunted trees stood sentinel. The air intermittently echoed with the cry of the jackals or the faint roar of a tiger in the distance. The only other sound was that of the lone horse galloping on the stony path.

"How long are we going to travel?" Valli asked Dhruva. She was hungry, thirsty, and wilting with exhaustion. The stress of the last few days had been too much for her poor self.

"Patience, my love. This is Dasyu country. We cannot stop here."

"But I'm thirsty. Can I not have a drink of water, my dearest?"

Dhruva thought for a moment. None was in sight. It would not hurt them to stop and drink from the goat leather Mashak strapped to the mare's back. He pulled the reins of his ride, coming to a stop under an acacia.

Valli got down, thankfully, and then sank onto the dry grass, her legs no longer supporting her. They had traveled miles from the city but were still not out of danger. Still, it wasn't prudent to perish from thirst and weariness.

Dhruva handed her the leather pouch and she brought it to her lips to drink greedily. The hunger pangs would have to wait. It was dangerous to light a fire and draw attention to oneself.

Dhruva noticed that his companion was weary to the bone. The girl wasn't in the habit of riding a horse at that breakneck speed. Her eyes were almost closing with sleep.

"Would you like to rest a while, my love?" he asked.

"How?"

"Do not worry. I'll keep guard," he said, brandishing his sword.

Valli nodded, resting her back against the tree trunk and closing her eyes. She had hardly rested for a few moments when there was a loud outcry and they were surrounded by a group of horsemen, each wielding a sword. Dhruva never stood a chance against them. Were they the robbers or Menaka's men?

Hassan inspected the long pepper that the trader had shown him. It was a rare spice, to be used in medicines or delicacies. He was on the southwestern coast of the sub-continent. It was a land of lush coconut palms and sandy beaches. Traders from all over came here to buy the spices that the land boasted of. He was one among many, bargaining to secure a good deal.

After a lot of haggling, the sale was finalized. His servant picked up the sack and carried it away. Hassan decided against following him. It wouldn't hurt him to explore a little, would it? He could have a drink in a tavern or watch the traditional masked dancers.

He ambled through the cobbled streets, stopping to buy and eat a banana, a rarity in his homeland. At length, he came to a tavern. It was more of a shack, with a sign displaying an elephant. The first time he had seen those huge beasts, he had been scared out of his wits, till the mahout had reassured him that they were gentle giants. Since then, he had even ridden one of them around the city and thought that they were much more comfortable than his camels.

The tavern was lit with oil lamps, making the air smell of coconuts, another novelty for him. He loved the taste of the soft white flesh and the sweet nectar it contained. So many tales to carry back home when he returned.

Men were busy inside the shack, drinking toddy, a local wine. He ordered a light meal for himself and sat to watch the dancer who was performing in the middle. She was a dark-skinned beauty, and her swaying movements were charming. She sang a song whose lyrics he could not follow, but he enjoyed the lilting melody.

His Salima could sing. She was so full of life, fond of song and the Attan, the traditional folk dance of the region.

The dance came to an end, and the dancer moved between the seats, bowing with her hands folded. Hassan took out a handful of coins and offered it to the woman who took it gratefully.

"Would you like my services for the night, sir?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with a promise of a happy time.

Hassan thought for a moment. Should he or shouldn't he? It had been so long since he had eased the ache in his loins with a woman. Here was one, willing and ready to perform that little service. What harm was there to take her up on her offer?

He nodded, and she gestured for him to follow her. Hassan walked behind her, admiring the sway of her hips and feeling the first stirrings of desire in his body. His heart pounded like the breaking of the waves on the shore and his blood sang in his veins. Sweat pooled on his brow, and in places he was ashamed to note.

The woman entered a thatched hut, decorated with masks and coconut shells. A mattress made of leaves was spread on the floor. A lamp was lit, throwing its light in every nook and corner of the small tenement. A string of garlic hung from the roof. Hassan had heard that the plant had an aphrodisiac quality, though the vile stench was enough to drive any lover away, he mused with a smile.

The woman took off her wrap-around sarong and lay on the mattress, spreading her arms wide. Her nakedness hit him in his belly, making his body react. Her breasts, akin to ripened fruits, and the curve of her belly enticed him. His eyes traveled lower, his gaze drinking in the sight, like a parched desert traveler drinking at the oasis.

Slowly, his hand went to his belt and he took his robe off, shrugging it away, till he stood as naked as she. He sank down on her, inhaling her faintly musky smell, a mix of sweat, flowers, and coconut oil. Her skin felt like oiled silk, and his insides felt on fire.

He buried his face in her bosom, his hands kneading her flesh. He was thirsting for a taste of her lips, to drink the sweet nectar they promised. He raised his head, gazed at her face, and shrank back.

She wasn't Salima, the woman who had been in his imagination all this while. This was not her, but a stranger. Desire died a quick death inside him. His body went weak where it had been taut a moment before.

"Sorry.....sorry....." he mumbled, rising and putting on his robes. He threw a handful of coins at her and ran out of the hut.

What was he about to do? Would this ache for Salima ever fade? Would he ever love another as he had loved her?