THE COURTESAN OF JAIGARH (Complete)

Part 37-At The Temple

 Neelanjana watched the sundial on the lawn from her bedroom window to see the shadows fall. Time was passing, but it seemed to have stood still for her. Time had stopped the moment Hassan had left her bereft and burning with a hunger for his nearness, his touch. She hardly cared for the turning of days into night and then the breaking of dawn heralding a new day. What did it matter when she could not see his face or hear his sweet words? Like a puppet, she danced when asked by her master, or sang one of her songs of yearning and sorrow.

She gazed around her with disinterest. The wealth and luxury that had once meant everything to her now seemed meaningless without the presence of one man. Where was he, she wondered. Had he departed for his home, having transacted his business in the neighboring kingdom or was he, perhaps, thinking of seeing her one last time? Neelanjana snorted in disbelief at her own expectations. She wasn't so lucky. Why should Hassan remember her, a courtesan, a woman of the night, when he could have any woman in his homeland? He was not only handsome, dashingly so, but also, a wealthy man. He had told her all about his business and how well it was doing. He conducted his trade far and wide, over continents and seas. Her mind boggled to think of the far-off lands he had toured on his trips. He was an intrepid traveler, while she had never ventured out of Jaigarh.

Neelanjana let out a sigh of regret. Why was Fate so cruel to her? Was it her lot forever to entertain men in bed? Why couldn't she have the love of a man she admired? She cursed the stars she had been born under. It must have been a malefic influence at the time of her birth or she wouldn't have faced the quick death of her love every time. She recalled the past, the day she had been caught with Dhruva. That had been the end of her girlish dreams. Her first brush with love had left her with a bleeding heart.

Neelanjana felt a tear roll down her eye at the poignant memory. The next time she had dared to hope for love, Harshvardhan had jolted her to reality. She had misunderstood his motive in rescuing her from the old man's clutches. He had not fallen in love with her, instead, he had wanted a plaything. That was all she was to him. Oh, he lavished riches on her, but then he expected her to do his every bidding. She was as much in chains here, as she had been at the old man's inn. The only difference was that here the chains were gilded. It was, but, a golden cage, and it stifled her. Maybe, this golden cage was her destiny.

Neelanjana shrugged her shoulders as if to shrug off the fay mood. She should come back to reality, and the reality was that Harshvardhan hadn't been to see her in days. It had been weeks since she had lain with him. It was said that he was spending the days with his wife. Well, that scenario did not suit her. Her existence in Jaigarh depended on the patronage of the prince. She would have to make more effort if she wished to recapture his interest, but before that, she would visit the old temple outside the city to pray to the deity there.

Hassan tucked away the pearls he had bought from a sailor. He had met the man while eating at a tavern. The man had shown him the glistening pearls he had obtained at a seaside town. Hassan had fallen in love with the warm glow of the white globes that seemed to reflect the colors of the rainbow. It had reminded him of a woman he had left behind in Jaigarh. Wasn't her skin akin to the translucent pearls? Wouldn't these grace her neck as if they were meant for her? The thought of her was enough to bring a bittersweet smile to his lips. He had decided to leave Reshamgarh in the morning and start for his homeland, but now, the thought of his Neelu; yes, he thought of her like that; had made him restless. He needed to see her one last time if only to remind himself of how unattainable she was.

Hassan sighed in frustration, toying with his bowl of porridge. He was no longer hungry.

"What's ailing you, brother?" his companion, a fellow merchant, asked him.

Hassan wondered if he should share his predicament, then decided to seek the older man's advice.

"Hmm...." the man mused. "It's indeed a complicated situation. I understand your hesitation. She is the chief courtesan of Jaigarh. Her beauty is said to be legendary. So is her talent for song and dance. Remember that you'll have to incur the wrath of the prince if you try to win her hand."

"I'm not afraid of any man, brother, not even the prince of Jaigarh. What scares me is the thought that she might not return my feelings. After all, I'm just a wandering trader," Hassan replied, a frown marring his forehead.

"You're too modest, lad," his companion observed with a smile. "You forget that I have known you for a long time now. You're wealthy in your own rights. Few men in your homeland are as successful as you."

Hassan accepted the truth of the other man's words. His business was flourishing and he would be able to give his Neelu the riches she was used to enjoying, but would she care to be his wife? That question was eating at his insides. What if she refused even to consider his offer? It was sure that he couldn't live with this uncertainty. He would have to find out for sure what her feelings were.

Thus, he decided to take the longer route to his homeland, one that would pass through Jaigarh. It was necessary for his peace of mind.

Two days later, Neelanjana got up before sunrise. The stars were still shining in the sky when she returned from taking a bath in the nearby pond that was considered to be holy by the people of her faith. The maid had laid out a dress, a soft beaded skirt that reached to her ankles, and a matching bustier. The bright hues were eye-catching in the extreme. The local craftsmen had lovingly dyed it in the traditional technique. It was accompanied by a veil made of the sheerest fabric adorned with an embroidery of gold threads. With a necklace of carnelians around her neck, and glittering slippers on her feet, she was breathtaking.

A palanquin awaited her outside her gates, and she sat inside it. The maid accompanying her carried the tray full of offerings. The little party started for the city gates. The streets were silent and the only sound was the barking of hounds or the prayer song muttered by the palanquin bearers.

The sun was rising in the east when the tall spire of the monolithic temple came into view. It was outside the city gates, situated near an ancient banyan tree whose branches extended every which way. Raising the curtain, Neelanjana peered outside. A noise in the vicinity alerted her. A few tents had been pitched in the distance and the camp was buzzing with activity. Were they a troupe of wandering dancers, called Natts, she wondered, asking as much to the guards.

The fellow ran to find out and came back a moment later.

"A group of wandering traders has pitched their camp here, mistress," he informed her.

Neelanjana's heart picked up pace. Was a tall and handsome merchant among them, perhaps? The next moment she shrugged off her wishful thinking. Why should he return? He had not given her any assurances that he would do so. After all, she didn't mean anything to him, did she?

The palanquin came to a stop in front of the temple steps and Neelanjana stepped out, her movements fluid and graceful, those of a dancer. She climbed the steps to the sanctum, bowing before the presiding deity and making her offerings. Neelanjana sank to her knees and prayed earnestly, her purpose forgotten. She wasn't praying to retain her position, rather her lips uttered the name of another man, whom she wished to see once again.

She opened her eyes, yearning for her prayers to be granted, then decided to circumambulate around the temple.

Hassan picked up a jug, going to the well behind the temple to fetch water. He had reached Jaigarh the previous night, setting up camp with his fellow travelers. He was still debating the wisdom of his decision. Should he enter the city and seek out his blue-eyed beauty? Would she be happy to see him? He was lost in his thoughts, drawing out water and nodding to his companion's chatter, mumbling a word here or there, when his gaze fell on the woman circling the temple, and the jug dropped from his nerveless fingers.

Hassan, here, standing behind the temple? Neelanjana couldn't believe her eyes. Were her prayers answered so soon?