eyes, but he refuses to let her see him cry.
He closes the door behind the princess, and turns back into the room. Tambula has come to his side. The apothecary’s face is pale and his eyes are wide—Basant can see that Tambula too is shaken.
“I had no idea, brother,” Tambula whispers hoarsely. “No idea at all. You are fortunate in your friends. Indeed, I hope you will remember our friendship in days to come.” He seems to Basant almost to bow. “Even so, my dear, promise me that you will never say a word of this to Hing!”
“What can you mean, brother?”
“What if he finds out that I have had a part in this—the act that he has so explicitly forbidden?” His face is ashen. “The princess stakes everything on one throw of the dice.” He gives a resigned shrug. “Anyway, I suppose my secret’s safe enough with you. If things go wrong, I mean—why, you’d be the first one Hing would kill.”
Tambula turns to watch the servants dress the twins, leaving Basant to sort this out as best he can. “I’ve given them each dravanas,” Tambula explains. “Double doses. I don’t know what the princess said to them, but whatever it was, I’ve never seen them so upset.”
“What did she say to you?” Basant asks.
“You can imagine,” Tambula answers, appearing disturbed just by the memory. “In any case, she was quite explicit about what I was to do with these two. They’ll be as horny as lepers in a few minutes. Then you can take them to the purdah room.” Tambula bites his lip. “I’m concerned they might have convulsions. I can’t help them much if they do. I’ve never given anyone such big doses before. They’re young, so they’ll probably be all right. I’ll just watch them for a while, I think.”
Convulsions! He is about reply when he notices that Tambula’s hands have dark swellings, like thick pustules.
“Oh those,” Tambula says, as if answering the question Basant is too embarrassed to ask.
While they watch the twins being dressed and prepared by their serving girls, Tambula quietly tells Basant the story of those odd swellings. He speaks quietly and discreetly, slipping into Bengali, which all the brothers speak when secrecy is helpful.
It happened, Tambula says, after ‘taj Mahal died—giving birth to her fourteenth child: what does that say about Shah Jahan’s vigor? After a period of mourning, Shah Jahan called Tambula’s predecessor, a eunuch called Kela, for a consultation. At that time Tambula was Kela’s apprentice.
Every man, of course, experiments with vardhanas at some point—every man wants to add an inch or two to the length of his lingam. But in this endeavor as in others Shah Jahan was determined to surpass all other men. He let Kela know he was prepared to tolerate any manner of agony to achieve his goal—to have the grandest lingam the world had ever known.
Kela’s method required enormous effort—Shah Jahan ended up lying facedown in a hammock for more than a month. His lingam poked through a hole with small weights suspended from its tip. The shaft Kela wrapped in wool soaked in mustard oil, into which he and Tambula had ground up the stingers of a thousand jalshuks . Since a man might swell up and die from a single jalshuk sting, Kela had paid dearly for them: a full rupee apiece for each of the brilliant green bugs.
Though they wrapped their hands in rags before they applied this ointment to Shah Jahan’s lingam, no precaution was adequate. Touch even a few drops of the oil and hands and fingers would blister and swell to enormous size; and though they soaked their hands in dahi for hours, even that could not cool them. But Shah Jahan bore the treatment day after day, never sleeping for the pain, never uttering a sound.
At last, though more blistering oil was applied, the skin had become so thick and blackened that no more growth could be achieved.
For some weeks, the emperor used to show the results to anyone who asked, and also to
He closes the door behind the princess, and turns back into the room. Tambula has come to his side. The apothecary’s face is pale and his eyes are wide—Basant can see that Tambula too is shaken.
“I had no idea, brother,” Tambula whispers hoarsely. “No idea at all. You are fortunate in your friends. Indeed, I hope you will remember our friendship in days to come.” He seems to Basant almost to bow. “Even so, my dear, promise me that you will never say a word of this to Hing!”
“What can you mean, brother?”
“What if he finds out that I have had a part in this—the act that he has so explicitly forbidden?” His face is ashen. “The princess stakes everything on one throw of the dice.” He gives a resigned shrug. “Anyway, I suppose my secret’s safe enough with you. If things go wrong, I mean—why, you’d be the first one Hing would kill.”
Tambula turns to watch the servants dress the twins, leaving Basant to sort this out as best he can. “I’ve given them each dravanas,” Tambula explains. “Double doses. I don’t know what the princess said to them, but whatever it was, I’ve never seen them so upset.”
“What did she say to you?” Basant asks.
“You can imagine,” Tambula answers, appearing disturbed just by the memory. “In any case, she was quite explicit about what I was to do with these two. They’ll be as horny as lepers in a few minutes. Then you can take them to the purdah room.” Tambula bites his lip. “I’m concerned they might have convulsions. I can’t help them much if they do. I’ve never given anyone such big doses before. They’re young, so they’ll probably be all right. I’ll just watch them for a while, I think.”
Convulsions! He is about reply when he notices that Tambula’s hands have dark swellings, like thick pustules.
“Oh those,” Tambula says, as if answering the question Basant is too embarrassed to ask.
While they watch the twins being dressed and prepared by their serving girls, Tambula quietly tells Basant the story of those odd swellings. He speaks quietly and discreetly, slipping into Bengali, which all the brothers speak when secrecy is helpful.
It happened, Tambula says, after ‘taj Mahal died—giving birth to her fourteenth child: what does that say about Shah Jahan’s vigor? After a period of mourning, Shah Jahan called Tambula’s predecessor, a eunuch called Kela, for a consultation. At that time Tambula was Kela’s apprentice.
Every man, of course, experiments with vardhanas at some point—every man wants to add an inch or two to the length of his lingam. But in this endeavor as in others Shah Jahan was determined to surpass all other men. He let Kela know he was prepared to tolerate any manner of agony to achieve his goal—to have the grandest lingam the world had ever known.
Kela’s method required enormous effort—Shah Jahan ended up lying facedown in a hammock for more than a month. His lingam poked through a hole with small weights suspended from its tip. The shaft Kela wrapped in wool soaked in mustard oil, into which he and Tambula had ground up the stingers of a thousand jalshuks . Since a man might swell up and die from a single jalshuk sting, Kela had paid dearly for them: a full rupee apiece for each of the brilliant green bugs.
Though they wrapped their hands in rags before they applied this ointment to Shah Jahan’s lingam, no precaution was adequate. Touch even a few drops of the oil and hands and fingers would blister and swell to enormous size; and though they soaked their hands in dahi for hours, even that could not cool them. But Shah Jahan bore the treatment day after day, never sleeping for the pain, never uttering a sound.
At last, though more blistering oil was applied, the skin had become so thick and blackened that no more growth could be achieved.
For some weeks, the emperor used to show the results to anyone who asked, and also to
Similar Books
