'Beloved, you may be as all men say, only a transient spark of flickering flame set in loam of clay.
I care not, since you kindle all my dark, with the immortal lustres of the day.'

-Sarojini Naidu
***

Bhaddaiyan Raj,
India, 1854;

Geoffrey's steps faltered as soon as the establishment came into sight.

The second they crossed the threshold he began reconsidering his decision to agree to Peter's proposition.

The steps leading to the ornate entrance were inlaid with mosaic tiles; while draperies of the finest silk hung in the archways.

The avenue itself would have been unremarkable, if not for this particular building; for, while the rest of it was lined with modest dwellings, this particular place shone with the brilliance of the moon in the night sky.

Peter was beyond himself with excitement. His feet had not stopped bouncing throughout the entire journey.

"Is it not marvellous?"

His hankering voice interrupted Geoffrey's inspection of his surroundings.

Geoffrey swept a dubious glance around him. The place was bustling with men of all ages. There was the frail, old-aged patrons alongside strapping young men and middle-aged, pot-bellied fellows.

They all had one thing in common though- wealth.
Judging by their fine clothing and the jewellery that they donned on their selves, Geoffrey knew that business here must be lucrative.

"It is still a gaudy-house."

He tried to say the words in the most distasteful way possible; anything to get Peter to leave.

His companion, however, gawked at him like a madman.

"Do you even hear yourself? This is no gaudy-house, Sergeant. It is a kotha. It is an establishment meant to cater to the rich and the nobility. Not everyone can gain access here. The courtesans inside, the tawaifs...they are no ordinary women.
These are the women who have trained the Nawabs and Princes of this land. They have the patronage of some of the most important men. The wife of the Nawab of Oudh used to be a tawaif...They don't go on broadcasting the fact; but it is a truth nonetheless."

Geoffrey found it hard to believe Peter's words.
A courtesan was the Begum of Oudh?

"You would be lucky if they consider you worthy of their company. They do tend to be picky about who they serve. But do not worry, you would still get to admire their talents and art- and they have plenty of those. The Ladies in Britain can certainly learn a few tricks."

Peter winked at an incredulous Geoffrey before rushing up the steps and through one of the many archways, leaving him no choice but to follow.
______________________________________

"Here, sahib. A special paan for a special guest."

Geoffrey peeled his eyes away from the mesmerising beauty in the centre of the opulently decorated hall, and looked at the outstretched hand.

"Go on, Geoffrey. Have a taste."

Peter nudged him with an elbow before picking up one of the betel-leaves from the silver tray.

The woman holding it smiled seductively at him, causing Geoffrey to flush with abashment. He gingerly followed suit, putting the heavenly-smelling treat in his mouth. An instant explosion of flavours burst on his taste buds, causing him to bite back a moan of pleasure.
It was indeed delectable.

"See? What did I tell you?"

Peter's boisterous grin exposed his red-stained teeth; he then went back to staring at the courtesan dancing to the exotic tunes.
Geoffrey could not help but do the same.

Her movements almost seemed hypnotising; they were so full of grace, yet enigmatically reserved. She moved with the ease of the wind, her expansive skirts fluttering about her. The multitude of gems studded on her dress and adorning her face and wrists, reflected the light falling on them from the innumerable candelabras placed strategically around the hall.

A rather elderly woman, adorned in an equally lavish attire and exerting an unmistakable air of authority, sat in one of the corners surrounded by plush pillows. She clapped her hands to the beat of the instruments and sang some spellbinding tunes.

The entire scene unfolding before Geoffrey seemed to suck him into a strange daze.

The air was laden with the fragrance of mogra flowers, small garlands of which were twined across the wrists of the patrons sitting around him. Peter himself had twisted one in his palms. The hall was not as packed as the scene outside had indicated. There were only a handful of people- all Indians.

Geoffrey did not miss the scrutinising glances that the others, including one of the guards, kept sending his way. Their generous donation had allowed them to seek entry; but he doubted if they would be charitable enough to keep them entertained for long even at the expense of their other customers.

"Peter, I think we are done here."

He finally turned to his dear companion, only to find him swaying to the rhythm of the tabla, completely oblivious to everything else.

Geoffrey patted his arm, trying to gain his attention.

"Peter? I do not think we should be staying here anymore. It is getting really late. We have to meet the King tomorrow."

Peter's gaze, when he finally looked at him, further strengthened Geoffrey's resolve to leave.
He seemed drunk- too drunk.
His eyes were glazed and he had a silly grin on his face.

"Yes, my dear friend?"

Geoffrey winced at the unnaturally high pitch of his voice.

"I said we should leave."

Peter took another mouthful of the liquor in his hand. Putting the tumbler down with a hearty thud, he swiped at the droplets clinging at his chin.

"Nonsense! This is a night of celebration. Have a jaam and throw your caution to the winds!"

His loud cheer following his words drew the attention of others towards them.

He saw the elderly woman throwing them an acidic glare; and could almost hear her say-

'This is a refined place. We have no space for uncultured people like you.'

Oh, how the tables had turned!

No, he would not have Peter embarrass their people in such a way. They were supposed to be the civilised race.
How would they ever be able to achieve their goal if they put forth such poor representation?

He would not have these people reproach them. Absolutely not. It was matter of honour now.

He passed a cursory smile to the others and stood up, pulling a reluctant Peter to his feet.

"Come now, Peter. I think you have had enough."
______________________________________

Saya hurried her steps.

The more time she took, the greater would be the possibility of the discovery of her lie, back at the Palace. She had already put Gayatri in a tight spot.

"Are you sure it is not something serious, Aslam?"

The boy continued moving forth, passing through the narrow passage of the back-street.

"Appi did not say much to me, Rajkumari. She just asked me to relay the message, and escort you here if you agree to come."

Saya felt fear crawling up her throat. She stubbornly pushed it back.
There could not be anything wrong with her dear friend. She had to be alright. But she also knew that Ruqsana would never call for her at this time of the night, if not for some serious matter.

Was it to do with Hamida Bibi?

She shook the thought away. There was no need dwelling on the unknown. She would be presented with the truth soon anyways.

Saya ducked her head as soon as she spotted a man coming towards them from the opposite direction. He did not seem to take much note of the two, however. She took a sigh of relief once he was out of their sight. It was a good thing they were travelling along the back route.
The darkness did help her remain discreet.

"How long, Aslam?"

The boy turned his head shortly,

"Just a few more houses to cross, Rajkumari."
______________________________________

Saya was pulled into a tight embrace as soon as the backdoor opened.

"Ruqsana? What is wrong?"

She pulled away from her friend and looked at her tear-stained face.

"Oh, Saya! It is ammi...She refuses to take the medicine and she just keeps calling for you. I did not know what else to do!"

Saya rubbed Ruqsana's arms, trying to soothe her anxiety. She tried to hide her own bubbling apprehension.

"Calm down, Ruqsana. It is alright. I am here. Now, tell me what happened to Hamida Bibi. What is wrong?"

Ruqsana took a shuddering breath to compose herself, before answering her question in a tense voice,

"She had been feeling unwell for the last few days. But tonight, things just got worse. Her fever intensified. I had to call the hakim. He even gave her a concoction to drink...but she is refusing everything. She just keeps babbling nonsensical words in her delirious state...I do not know what to do! She keeps asking for you. I had no other choice but to send Aslam to you. I knew you wouldn't refuse.
I am so sorry, Saya. I know it mustn't have been easy to leave the Palace easily at this late hour; but I had to do this. You are the only person besides me that she listens to. The hakim said that if she doesn't take the medicine tonight, ammi would- she would-"

Ruqsana buried her face in her hands, unable to continue.
Saya let the words sink before coaxing her back to a calm state.

"You did the right thing, Ruqsana. There is nothing more important than Hamida Bibi's health. I would not have it any other way."

Ruqsana fixed a grateful look at her.

"But what about Yuvraj? I know he would be livid if he found out."

Saya frowned at the fear in her voice.

"I will handle everything, Ruqsana. Bhaiya does have a short temper but I am sure he will forgive me. I am his sister. Right now, Hamida Bibi is the one we should be worried about. Take me to her first."
______________________________________

Saya's breath hitched when she witnessed the woeful state of her mentor and teacher.

Hamida Bibi had never considered Saya any less than Ruqsana, her own daughter.

There was a time when she had been one of the most beautiful courtesans in their land.
Her talents and grace were the talk of the nobility and commoners alike.

Unfortunately, a disastrous fall down the stairs had robbed her of her graceful gait. She had been rendered out of the profession. But the various skills she had acquired over the years were still priced.
She could no longer be a courtesan; but nothing stopped her from being one of the best mentors in the land.

Hamida Bibi already had the patronage of some of the most influential men in the State. She was soon appointed as the young princess's teacher.
She came to the Palace every day, giving Saya lessons in etiquette, prose, dancing and singing.

It was during these sessions that Saya made acquaintance with her daughter, Ruqsana.
The girl accompanied her mother to the Palace. It did not take long for them to become dearest friends. 

For more than ten years, the woman had taught Saya everything she could.

However now, that same majestic woman lay on a worn linen in a room stifling with heat.

Time had not been kind to Hamida Bibi.
Though she had amassed modest wealth over the years, there was always a sense of longing in her eyes.

Saya knew that she had never truly been able to leave behind her life as a courtesan. She had always carried that regret in her heart.

Saya had long suspected her yearning for her past life to be the reason behind her decision to reside in a house that was no more than a few stones' throw away from the very kotha she used to be the star of.

"Rajkumari..."

The fragile whisper pulled Saya out of her shock, and she quickly bent down to her.

"Hamida Bibi? I am here. How are you?"

She tried her best to mask her worry.
The elderly woman looked at her with a soft smile.

"Hukum! You came for me! I knew you would...Alas! I am not as beautiful as before. You must be disappointed, Hukum..."

Saya's throat constricted with emotion as she swallowed her tears. Behind her, Ruqsana bit back a sob.

Saya knew the woman was too delirious to notice her presence. Her eyes were glassy and had a faraway look in them.

She gently held her chin, her skin burning under her fingers.

"Hamida Bibi, it is me- Saya. Do you remember me?"

Hamida's eyes rested again on her face, clearing a fraction.

"Saya? Rajkumari Saya? Oh, you have grown so tall- so beautiful!"

Saya let out a teary chuckle.

"Yes. Yes, Hamida Bibi. I have."

Her features suddenly twisted in pain.

"I do not feel so good, Rajkumari. Everything burns. My throat- it burns."

Saya swiped a strand of damp hair away from her forehead, nodding her head softly.

"I know, Hamida Bibi. It is because you are ill. Hakim has given you the medicine. I want you to drink it, alright? You will do that for me, won't you?"

Hamida's breath came out in long heaves.

"I- I cannot say no to the Princess, can I?"

Saya smiled gratefully before motioning to Ruqsana, who immediately brought over the bowl of concoction to her.

She placed the container to Hamida's chapped lips, whispering soothing words to coax her to drink it.
After a bit of struggle, she managed to get her to drink most of the liquid.

"There you go, Hamida Bibi. You will be fine now. I will come back to see you tomorrow, alright?"

The woman grunted, her eyelids dropping close as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Saya placed a warm kiss on the back of her hand and wiped some of the liquid that had spilled down her chin.

All the while, Ruqsana stood still behind her, gazing at the sight with tears rolling down her face.
______________________________________

"Thank you so much, Saya! I do not know what I would have done without you."

Saya smiled lovingly and wiped at her tears.

"You don't have to think that. I am here for you, Ruqsana. And do not worry, I am sure that Hamida Bibi will be alright by tomorrow.
I will come see her again. Now, go and have some sleep too. You look like you could use some rest."

Ruqsana cried out in protest,

"But I have to see you back to the Palace!"

Saya shook her head at her words.

"No, Ruqsana. You cannot leave Hamida Bibi alone tonight. I will leave with Aslam. You stay here."

She interrupted another one of her friends' protests with a firm look.

She knew Ruqsana was worried about her; but asking her to accompany her back to the Palace was unthinkable.

Ruqsana finally relented. She turned to the boy standing by the back door.

"Aslam, make sure you take the Rajkumari back safely."

Aslam gave a solemn bow.

"I will protect her with my life, appi."

The girls embraced each other once again before Saya let herself out of the house, and into the back street.
______________________________________

Geoffrey groaned as he dragged a swaggering Peter out of the backdoor of the building.

Making their exit from the front gates, when his companion was in such an abject state, was out of the question. He was not going to partake in that walk of shame.

Asking the guards for a back exit had been one of the most embarrassing things he had done yet in this sodden land. But he did not want to give more people the satisfaction of criticising them.

Here, the backstreet was empty of any life, giving them the perfect place to hide until he could arrange for a ride to take them back to the haveli.

He leaned Peter against the gate they had just exited, and gave him a firm pat on his cheek.

"Hey, Peter! Are you listening to me? Peter?"

Peter gave a grunt, looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

"I am going to the main street to bring us a tonga. You have to stay here- exactly here, until I return, alright?"

"Yes, George. I understand. I am not a dimwit!"

Geoffrey rolled his eyes at his slurred words.

Of course, you aren't a dimwit, you twat!

He did not waste another moment, rushing to the front of the building after casting one last look at the hunched figure of the other man.

He vowed to let Peter know, the very next morning and in excruciating detail, about all the baloney he had committed.
For now, he had much more pressing matters to attend to- for instance, an awfully drunk individual to take care of and arranging for a crucial meeting tomorrow...
______________________________________

"Rajkumari, you wait here. I will just go and check if the street is safe for us to proceed after this turn."

Saya nodded her head, keeping still in her tracks while Aslam hurried towards the corner of the turn, soon disappearing from her sight.

She waited a few moments in silence, fidgeting with the hem of her chunni in apprehension.

She could well imagine Gayatri's worry. If she did not reach the Palace soon-

Saya stiffened as a sudden groan sounded from beside her.

She felt her muscles tense with alarm. No matter how much she tried to, she could not find the strength to turn back.

Her surroundings were dark with nothing but the moonlight and a few luminous windows offering some reprieve.

The unmistakable shadow of a man moved from one of the walls.

A warm breath soon hit the column of her throat and she squealed when a hand was wrapped around one of her wrists.

"You came here! I knew you would not be able to stay away from me, darling! There was no way you could ever avoid my charm. Did that old hag see you leave?"

Tears filled her eyes and she recoiled from the waft of liquor that hit her.

The man spoke in a tongue that was unfamiliar to her.

She twisted her wrist violently, trying to escape his hold. In doing so, she turned to fully face the man and loosened her hold on her chunni, exposing her face.

"Unhand me, lecherous devil!"

A hint of confusion flashed through the man's cat-like eyes.

"Ah! You are not her...But- well, to hell! You are much more beautiful. I have no complaints."

Saya still couldn't understand a word he was saying. She now knew he was a firangi. And having heard the tales about them, she found her anxiety heightening.

"I said leave me!"

Her voice rose an octave and she gained the confidence to push him. The man immediately landed on the ground on his hunches, clearly fazed by the amount of liquor coursing in his bloodstream.

"Ouch. That was rough, my sweet!"

Saya nestled her wrist close to her chest, panting with the shock of the situation.

"Peter! Lord, what have you done now?"

She turned with a start towards the other sound, coming from the direction of the main street.

A man, his face shielded in the dark, was sprinting in her direction.
She immediately backed away towards the other end, careful not to near the man on the ground.
______________________________________

"Do not come any closer!"

Geoffrey was startled by the fear in the girl's voice.

He knew it had to be Peter's doing. The man could not stay still for a few moments.
He just had to go and terrorise an innocent lass!

"Listen, girl, I am not going to harm you. Please."

He extended his hands forward in a gesture of peace as he approached her further.
He needed to get closer to Peter, who still lay unceremoniously on the ground, rubbing his eyes.

From where Geoffrey stood, he could only see a slight hint of the girl's features. He moved with utmost patience, trying not to scare her any more than she already was.

Her urgent, fearful breaths echoed around them and his face softened with concern. She was clearly scared. And he had been speaking to her in English too.
How incredibly stupid of him!

"Please, I just want to apologize on behalf of my friend here. He is harmless. He just had one too many drinks."

Geoffrey tried to enunciate his words, hoping that he was speaking them correctly.

He caught a glimpse of her face as a window opened overhead, illuminating the backstreet.

Geoffrey found himself at a loss for words.

All his persuasion was forgotten as he admired the sight he had just seen. She was very different from the splendidly-clad ladies they had witnessed inside a few moments back.

She wore an unassuming attire, her torso hidden from view by a long piece of cloth. Her obsidian locks escaped her tied hair at a few random places, forming a sort of halo.

But what had struck him the most, were her eyes- those dark pools, wide with mistrust and alarm...and a hint of defiance.
Those eyes sucked him in their inescapable depths; and by the time he found his voice, it was too late.

He found himself at the end of a sharp blade, glistening with the promise of retribution, should he dare to make any move.

"Stay back!"

Geoffrey would have loved to admire the challenge in her feisty voice, had he not been facing imminent disaster.

"She has a knife at your throat, George...Why? She seems angry."

A part of his mind registered Peter's feeble voice amidst the chaos.

Oh, how he wished he could kill the man!

He hissed in return, speaking through clenched teeth,

"That is because you are a sodden man. And my name is Geoffrey!"

The blade sliced through the air, causing him to jump back.

Geoffrey cursed under his breath.
It wasn't even a very efficient weapon. It definitely wouldn't kill him; but it was enough to inflict some serious damage- and greater men have succumbed to infected wounds. He would not be taking any chances.

"Wow! There is no need for this, miss. I told you- we aren't here to hurt you."

She narrowed her eyes, jabbing the blade closer to him. He raised his arms in surrender, more so to put her at ease.
Maybe if she perceived them to be at a disadvantage, she would stop being so defensive.

"What is happening here?"

A loud screech cut through the tension and Geoffrey sighted a small boy running towards them.

He looked about twelve.

"Are you alright?"

The girl immediately turned to him, and Geoffrey detected the distinct relief that crossed her face.

"Aslam! It is alright. Please, let us just leave."

Her words were spoken in an urgent breath.

"But, raj-"

"No. I need to reach home. Immediately. They have been dealt with."

Geoffrey found it best to keep quiet while the two had their short exchange.

The boy cast a murderous stare at both him and a sprawled Peter, before giving a reluctant node of his head.

The blade was pulled back from Geoffrey's neck, but remained pointed in his direction as both of them backed away.

The girl kept a vigilant look at him while she hurried to the corner, soon disappearing from his view.

Geoffrey forced his eyes away from the spot when he heard Peter's low moan.

He gave him a reproachful look as he pulled himself groggily on his unsteady feet.
Peter looked around him with an exaggerated frown.

"Where are we? What just happened?"

Geoffrey trotted to him with a rigid expression and held him by the lapel of his coat, giving him a vigorous shake.

"We are in heaven."

He bit out the words Peter had spoken earlier.

"And you almost got us killed."
______________________________________

Gayatri wrung her hands as she stood in front of Saya's room.

It had been more than three hours since she had left and there was still no word.

Should she just inform Maharaj?
But he was asleep...

Should she tell- no! She couldn't tell Yuvraj. He would be livid.

But what if Saya was in some danger?

A comforting hand rested on her shoulder.

"Do not worry, Rajkumari. She will be back soon."

Gayatri smiled tensely at Uma's words. She knew the older woman was also anxious; but was trying hard to hide that. If only she could do the same.

"Gayatri!"

Gayatri trembled as she witnessed her husband making his way towards her through the corridor, with a guard trailing behind him.

Rajvir neared her with a fearsome scowl.
Foreboding settled at the pit of her stomach.

"Yuvraj."

Uma bowed to him from behind her. He did not even acknowledge her greeting, motioning for her to leave them alone.

Gayatri stood with an apprehensive expression as Uma and the guard vacated the place.
Rajvir spoke once they were out of sight,

"I will ask this once and I need an honest answer from you- where is Saya?"

Gayatri took a shuddering breath and cast a quick glance at the door of Saya's room.

Her voice shook when she replied,

"She must be in her room."

A resounding slap landed on her cheek the very next moment, causing her to stumble backwards.

"How dare you? How could you allow her to do that? Do you not know the extent to which this would hurt our family's honour? If anyone discovers that the Princess escaped in the middle of the night...to visit a tawaif! What would that do to our reputation?"

Gayatri whimpered with eyes brimming with tears, as he held her chin in a vice grip, forcing her to look at him.

"You better wish for her to return soon. If anything happens- anything...you know what I am capable of doing."
______________________________________

Glossary:

#Dialogues in hindi are in italics.

*tawaif- a highly sophisticated courtesan who catered to the nobility of the Indian subcontinent,
*kotha- the establishment of a tawaif
*begum- wife of the Nawab (ruler)
*jaam- a drink/shot
*haveli- mansion
*firangi- a slang for a foreigner, mainly British (hindi)
*yuvraj- Crown Prince
*rajkumari- princess/ princess-consort
*paan- a preparation of betel leaves with areca nuts and kattha paste, fruits etc., having a stimulating effect.
*hakim- physician using traditional remedies
*hukum- sire
*ammi- Urdu for mother
*bhaiya- brother (hindi)
(Rest of the words are explained in the previous chapter)
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Author's Note-

Hello to all my wonderful readers!

So, what did you think of the chapter?

Saya and Geoffrey have finally had their first meeting. It's not the most romantic one... But still! 😅

Peter is being a pain in Geoffrey's arse😆

What do you think awaits Saya at the Palace?

And what's the deal with her brother? 🤨

The history of the courtesans, or tawaifs of India, is a very rich one. They were like the Geishas of India. Their influence on the culture of the country is indelible.
So, do not be confused by their title.

Till the next time👋