THE COURTESAN OF JAIGARH (Complete)

Part 32-The Parting

 From the window of his room, Hassan watched the arrival of the prince of Jaigarh. The guards announced his arrival in a high voice, opening the tall gates wide. The prince was riding a horse, a monstrous black stallion, and Hassan could not help but admire the superb beast with its rippling muscles, shining coat, and splendid mane. Hassan knew that few men would have been able to control such a beast for such horses had a difficult temperament. That told him a lot about the man. He was someone Hassan would hate to get on the wrong side of.

The prince was dressed in a traditional silk tunic and narrow pants with a turban studded with gems. He was a handsome man, well-muscled and tall with a commanding presence. Did the lady of the house love him, he wondered, feeling an unfamiliar twinge of envy. The feeling made him uneasy. Why did the idea of her loving another man upset him so much? They had just met. He did not have any claim on her, nor she on him. The man who had arrived just now was her lover and patron. Being a courtesan it was her duty to entertain him. Thus, with this painful reasoning, Hassan tried to avoid facing the truth about his jealousy. It was too disturbing to admit that he was physically attracted to her as he hadn't been attracted to any woman in his life for a long time. It was as if Salima had taken that part of his life to the grave with her. Lust never reared its head when he saw other women. If he excused that one digression when he had followed that dancer to her hut, he could not remember any other occasion when he had wanted any woman so much as to take her to his bed. But now, the thought of his gentle hostess was enough to cause his body to stir with desire.

With a deep sigh of helplessness, Hassan watched the prince enter the mansion. Soon after, the sound of music floated from inside as Neelanjana entertained him with a lilting song. It was difficult for him to make out the meaning of the words, for he wasn't very well versed in the local dialect, but the haunting melody was enough to bring moisture to his eyes. He wondered what she was singing of, what had put so much pain in her voice that the song touched his soul with its heartbreaking strains. He lay down on the narrow bed, closing his eyes, enjoying the waves of music as they washed over his tired body, relaxing him and spreading a deep calmness inside him. Hassan did not notice when he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A sudden sound woke him from his slumber. For a moment he was disorientated, and then the events of the previous evening came rushing into his mind. He got up to look out of the window, noting the cart loaded with grain, that was passing by. It was most probably its noise that woke him up. He glanced up at the sky. The moon was almost ready to set, but it was still dark with a few stars twinkling in the night sky. He guessed that dawn was a couple of hours away. A cool breeze blew from the open casement, and it drew him outside.

Once outside, he breathed in deeply of the air laden with the scent of night blossoms. His robes fluttered in the breeze. He glanced at the sky overhead, then feeling a gaze on him, he looked toward an upstairs window, his breath catching in his throat as he espied the lady of the house sitting in the window seat. Their eyes met for a moment, and then he looked away, remembering that the prince must be waiting for her to return to the bed.

All of a sudden, the night lost its magic at that thought. Without tarrying for another moment, he made his way up the stairs to his room, sitting on the edge of the bed in agitation. The imagery that floated in his mind's eye, disturbed him. She had been wearing a sheer robe, affording a glimpse of her rounded breasts, just a hint, but enough to arouse a desire in him. Her face had been devoid of the powder she had dusted on her skin earlier, her lips fuller and moist as if they had been thoroughly kissed. With her hair framing her face in a glorious halo, she appeared like some seductive dream, sent to lure a man out of his depth. One could easily drown in the depths of her azure gaze, forgetting right or wrong.

As he was doing, Hassan chided himself. Was he confusing her benevolence with attraction? In all probability, she wasn't so much as moved by his presence, while he was busy fantasizing about her in his bed. Well, he could never compete with the royal patronage that she enjoyed. What could he offer her, being a simple trader, wandering from one land to another, selling his goods?

It would be better, he decided with a long expelled breath, that he left at dawn, putting an end to his stupidity. It would be nothing more than an embarrassment for him and his hostess if she guessed the nature of the thoughts he harbored for her. With that decision made, he lay down again, sleep deserting him, and waited impatiently for the first light of dawn.

Hassan got up at the crack of dawn, washed and packed his meager belongings, then made his way down. He searched for a servant, then saw a young boy come out of a side door with a bucket of feed and make his way towards the back. Hassan guessed that was where he would find the stables, and followed after him. The stables were there, alongside a barn housing a couple of cows adorned with bells around their necks. The young lad was feeding them. Hassan approached him and asked about his horse. The boy pointed to the stables, nodding his head when he said that he would be leaving.

His horse had been brushed, watered, and fed, and he was grateful for that. It saved a lot of his time. He led the beast by its reins, his steps taking him toward the tall gates of the mansion. The gateman bowed to him in greeting.

"Tell your mistress that I'm indebted to her for her generosity," he said, before climbing on the saddle.

"Sir, are you leaving so soon?"

A sweet voice called after him, and he turned to see the lady of the house standing in the doorway. Getting down from his mount, he approached her. She was still dressed in those sheer robes but had thrown a shawl around her shoulders, her allure not diminishing a bit in the light of the day.

"I have to go. The market would soon open and I have a lot to do," he uttered through stiff lips. "I thank you, my lady, for your hospitality."

His voice was gruff, his control testing him, as he struggled not to take her in his arms. What would she do if he drew her against his chest? Would she lie there, nestling in the warmth of his embrace, or would she push him away in disdain?

"Can I not make you agree to stay a couple more days here? Did you not find our hospitality to your liking?" she asked breathlessly, wringing her hands in consternation.

"You are too generous, my lady, but it is better that I leave now," he said, before bowing to her and walking out with his steed.

Neelanjana watched him leave, feeling the tears slowly make their way down her cheeks and angrily wiped them away. Why was Fate so cruel to her? Here was a man she wanted to know better. They had just met, and it was time to part. Why did this parting hurt so much? When would she see him again? What had he meant by his enigmatic words as he took his leave?

The questions buzzed about her mind, causing her to look about her in helplessness as if by doing so, the answers would miraculously appear. It was improbable that they would ever meet again. The sense of loss was so great, that Neelanjana sank to her knees in the doorway, and broke out into a keening wail.

Hassan spurred his horse, as fast as he could, trying to put as much distance between himself and the mansion as if the hounds of hell were after him. Had he stayed there a minute longer, he would have disgraced himself in her eyes by doing something foolish like kissing her or embracing her. What would she think of him then?

It was far better, instead to leave while his dignity was still intact, he decided, making his way right out of the city gates to where his camels and servants had made camp. He would sell his stones, load his camels with spices and other goods, and leave Jaigarh for good. But he would never forget her, he mused, for she had been imprinted on his very soul. What was the bond that drew him to her?