Read Online The World Beyond by Sangeeta Bhargava - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sangeeta Bhargava
Ads: Link
was still morning, it was already warm. Mother must have made sure all the windows had been shut and the khus mats sprinkled with water. Rachael watched the prince as he took one last look at the victorious hunting party, then trotted back to ride beside her.
‘Where did you learn to ride so well?’ he asked.
‘I spent many a summer with my grandparents. They live in a little village on the foothills of the Himalayas. I would spend all day just riding.’ She stopped speaking, as she remembered the hills, the undulating terrain, the evergreen foliage.
‘Why did you kill that tiger?’ she suddenly asked.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You killed a beautiful majestic beast like that for mere sport? Or was it to prove your manliness?’
‘I—’
‘I can understand if one kills to fill one’s belly. But you can’t possibly eat a tiger, so pray what was the need to kill him?’
‘Well, if I didn’t, we might have been its dinner,’ he replied and rode off in a huff.
Five minutes later he was back. He came dangerously close to her. She wondered at the thrust of his chin. Did his chin naturally jut out like that or was it plain arrogance?
‘Her,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘It was a tigress.’
With that he galloped away to join Ahmed in front of the hunting party.
Chapter Seven
S ALIM
Salim entered the main hall of Parikhana, the Academy of Music and Fine Arts, quietly. He always felt a little unnerved when visiting Parikhana. This was where you could find the best talents of Avadh, honing their dancing and singing abilities. It was no wonder Abba Huzoor was so fond of the place.
Abba Huzoor looked at Salim and nodded. Salim bowed and raised his right hand to his forehead in reply and sat down. He looked around. Chand Pari, dressed in a white kurta with delicate silver embroidery, was enacting Krishna Leela through dance form. She was accompanied on the sitar by two musicians while Ustad Burhan Mian played the tabla and Ustad Ali Khan provided the vocals.
Why had Abba Huzoor summoned him, Salim wondered. Of course, he was ecstatic. He hardly ever got to see him, much less spend time with him. He looked at him now as he took a puff from his hookah. He was engrossed in watching Chand Pari. His expressions and hand movements echoed those of the dancer. It seemed even his heart beat in time to music.
Chand Pari was performing one of the stories from the childhood of Lord Krishna. Salim watched with interest as the movements of Chand Pari’s hands indicated she was churning butter. Once the butter was made, she hung it from the ceiling in an earthenware pot. Her expressions changed. She was now enacting Little Krishna who loved butter and came toddling along. He could not reach the butter however hard he tried. It was much too high. Suddenly an idea struck him. He picked up a stone and threw it at the pitcher holding the butter. The pitcher broke and Krishna happily scooped all the butter …
Salim’s thoughts flew to Hazrat Ammi. He had heard she had come to the Parikhana when she was just sixteen. Her father had died when she was little and she used to live with her phuphi and phupha. Her phupha was a renowned designer and embroider of caps. Once, when commissioned to do some work for the regal household, he incurred the wrath of Abba Huzoor and his men were sent to imprison him and bring him to court.
The men could not find him but instead chanced upon his niece Hazrat Ammi. So entranced were they by her charm and wit that they went back to the palace singing her praises, her uncle forgotten. She was soon made a part of the Parikhana. Abba Huzoor, too, fell under her sway. So charmed was he by her beauty, grace and intelligence that he bestowed upon her the title of Mahak Pari, a fairy that spreads fragrance wherever she goes. That was before he married her and she became a mother to Birjis Qadir. Thereafter she came to be known as Begum Hazrat Mahal. But for Salim she’d always be Hazrat Ammi.
The
‘Where did you learn to ride so well?’ he asked.
‘I spent many a summer with my grandparents. They live in a little village on the foothills of the Himalayas. I would spend all day just riding.’ She stopped speaking, as she remembered the hills, the undulating terrain, the evergreen foliage.
‘Why did you kill that tiger?’ she suddenly asked.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You killed a beautiful majestic beast like that for mere sport? Or was it to prove your manliness?’
‘I—’
‘I can understand if one kills to fill one’s belly. But you can’t possibly eat a tiger, so pray what was the need to kill him?’
‘Well, if I didn’t, we might have been its dinner,’ he replied and rode off in a huff.
Five minutes later he was back. He came dangerously close to her. She wondered at the thrust of his chin. Did his chin naturally jut out like that or was it plain arrogance?
‘Her,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘It was a tigress.’
With that he galloped away to join Ahmed in front of the hunting party.
Chapter Seven
S ALIM
Salim entered the main hall of Parikhana, the Academy of Music and Fine Arts, quietly. He always felt a little unnerved when visiting Parikhana. This was where you could find the best talents of Avadh, honing their dancing and singing abilities. It was no wonder Abba Huzoor was so fond of the place.
Abba Huzoor looked at Salim and nodded. Salim bowed and raised his right hand to his forehead in reply and sat down. He looked around. Chand Pari, dressed in a white kurta with delicate silver embroidery, was enacting Krishna Leela through dance form. She was accompanied on the sitar by two musicians while Ustad Burhan Mian played the tabla and Ustad Ali Khan provided the vocals.
Why had Abba Huzoor summoned him, Salim wondered. Of course, he was ecstatic. He hardly ever got to see him, much less spend time with him. He looked at him now as he took a puff from his hookah. He was engrossed in watching Chand Pari. His expressions and hand movements echoed those of the dancer. It seemed even his heart beat in time to music.
Chand Pari was performing one of the stories from the childhood of Lord Krishna. Salim watched with interest as the movements of Chand Pari’s hands indicated she was churning butter. Once the butter was made, she hung it from the ceiling in an earthenware pot. Her expressions changed. She was now enacting Little Krishna who loved butter and came toddling along. He could not reach the butter however hard he tried. It was much too high. Suddenly an idea struck him. He picked up a stone and threw it at the pitcher holding the butter. The pitcher broke and Krishna happily scooped all the butter …
Salim’s thoughts flew to Hazrat Ammi. He had heard she had come to the Parikhana when she was just sixteen. Her father had died when she was little and she used to live with her phuphi and phupha. Her phupha was a renowned designer and embroider of caps. Once, when commissioned to do some work for the regal household, he incurred the wrath of Abba Huzoor and his men were sent to imprison him and bring him to court.
The men could not find him but instead chanced upon his niece Hazrat Ammi. So entranced were they by her charm and wit that they went back to the palace singing her praises, her uncle forgotten. She was soon made a part of the Parikhana. Abba Huzoor, too, fell under her sway. So charmed was he by her beauty, grace and intelligence that he bestowed upon her the title of Mahak Pari, a fairy that spreads fragrance wherever she goes. That was before he married her and she became a mother to Birjis Qadir. Thereafter she came to be known as Begum Hazrat Mahal. But for Salim she’d always be Hazrat Ammi.
The
Similar Books
