chapter five: life and death

The burning woods breathed fire, its hunger satiated by the flesh and bones of the fallen men. Skin melted, bones turned to ashes, smoke shrouding the sky. The sun too felt suffocated in the arms of the black fog. There were some fifty more bodies left to be attended to, and all those were being burnt today.

Watching the cremation, Hridayank thought about the events leading to this day. The Shah had been trying to make Omkara submit for long. The old man was as stubborn as the Shah himself and refused to kneel until bloodshed ruined his little kingdom. Now, the ties were being rebuilt by a bond of marriage.

When he had asked Shah Sikander why he was marrying such a strange choice- a woman living near the Far East, on the brink of the Indus of Indica- the Shah said it was a political move. But Hridayank knew how to read the eyes and unravel what the lips pressed between itself. The realisation gave him mixed feelings- hazily perturbed, green from the heart, red with embarrassment, and white with pity. The Shah had ran his fingers over the ring Hridayank wore. It was a tiny moment, but the hazarahpatish could not stop the tears from brimming.

"He does need an heir." No one could change this truth. The Shah, without an heir, would invite destruction upon his vast empire. All the blood and sweat that went into making his dreams a reality, all the sacrifices that paved the way for his ambitions to bloom, would become dust.

Hridayank clenched his fist and closed his eyes. The remnants of skin and ash flew with the breeze and rubbed his face. They maligned his soft, serene beauty. There was a certain peace in looking at his dark midnight eyes and tracing his square-shaped jaw. The Shah often savoured his gentle masculine features, sometimes even before the public. The same face couldn't be tarnished by the dirt that rose from the fire, putting down his worth.

He opened his eyes, gazing far into the distance, lost in a myriad of thoughts. He would have to marry one day too. Not that he was willing, or that he too needed an heir. Well, that could be a rather pretty excuse in case he did want to marry. Women were there to make children. Men failed at that miserably. But he felt like the Shah would force him to marry soon. Perhaps he would leave the choice of the bride in the Shah's hands only. That man knew how to dig gems from the ocean bed.

The human body took excruciatingly long time to burn. Sometimes a limb would break apart and fall on the ground. The body would go stiff and sit up. The man assigned to burn those would then poke the corpses with a stick. Hridayank knew that the Shah was in awe of fire, but the fear in that amazement often overwhelmed the latter. So Hridayank had taken up this task, lessening the burden off the shoulders of his best friend. Omkara took look worn out after the day's events, so as a fellow relative, which he was now, Hridayank stepped in to help.

He would often wonder about life and death in moments such as this. Everything has to come to an end one day. Hridayank could comprehend the truth now. He had seen deaths so many times before- men sentenced to be stoned, execution, murders disguised as wars, and scheming plots. Somehow, they always occured in times of great intensity and restlessness, so the depth could only be measured, not felt. Unlike now, when Hridayank could actually feel the hair on his neck stand.

"All must perish one day," he mused. The Shah used to say that death made them luckier than the gods. The gods, in their immortal time and ubiquitous availability of luxuries failed to admire the same. While humans, whether kings or beggars, passionately celebrated what meagre opulence was there to taste. Since time was limited in their hands, they didn't back off from being honest with their feelings. They were unafraid to be raw, to be brutal, to be kind. Maybe it was what drove the Shah to marry a princess.

Interrupting his fascinating exploration of life and death came the jingling noise of bangles and coins. He turned back to see Roshanak slowly walk towards the pyres. For some time he just stood frozen, then when urgency hit him, he ran for her. The princess was shocked to be suddenly blocked by him. "The Shahamsaram shouldn't be coming here."

Roshanak's eyes peered through him and landed on the pyres. "Who are they?"

Hridayank could analyse well. His observation warned him that the bride was severely upset. "The soldiers of your father and mine."

Roshanak frowned. Doubt glinted in her eyes. "Why do you show respect to your enemies? You never cared for them when alive, so what use is reverence when they are dead?"

Hridayank's brows lifted up. He tilted his head to the side, finding himself vulnerable enough to admire a woman. Roshanak flinched when wisdom whispered in her ears that she had done a grave mistake by uttering such audacious words.

But she couldn't leave. Hridayank held her hand, taking her closer to the pyres. "As you said, Shahamsaram, they are dead. As long as they were alive, they were my enemy or friend. What use is friendship or enmity with a dead body? A body is nothing but an amalgamation of the five elements. We show respect to nature, this cosmos, so a body must be returned to the source. And the soul, pure and immortal, is not to be hated. It is the same in all of us."

Roshanak gaped at the man. Wonder shone in her eyes. His long locks danced with the wind. She looked down at their conjoined hands. If only her husband would be as gentle as this, but it would be a sin to imagine even this. Adultery existed even in thought.

"You loved Kazu, didn't you?"

The warmth of his grip now blistered Roshanak.

"How do you know?" she asked, somewhat fearfully.

Hridayank's conceited smile made her shiver. "I am not the hazarahpatish for nothing. Unlike the Shah, my eyes and ears are always open."

"So you call the Shah ignorant?"

"Just less aware than me."

"What if the Kandake or the Shah hears you? Will they not be angry and punish you?"

Hridayank retracted his hand. "No."

Roshanak didn't question further. She would come to understand with time the equations. No one could ever rebuke her father, but maybe the Shah gave this special, intimate opportunity to a select few. After all, the hazarahpatish was also his Mitra- the favourite. He probably sees this hazarahpatish like a brother of the womb. A trusted man.

"So, will you be able to forget Kazu?" Hridayank asked.

"No."

"Then how will you be able to be a queen, with another man in your heart?"

Roshanak clutched the folds of her kandys. "That is mine to see. Love doesn't die with death."

"As if you would recognise him out of all these pyres?"

Roshanak's gasp was wet with tears and coated in pain. She ran into the smoke, coughing and crying, desperately trying to find Kazu. Alas, in death, all looked the same, even enemy and family.

She felt guilty.

"You won't be able to find him." Hridayank came up from behind. "It is futile to search for Kazu. He is gone."

"I will remember him."

"So we all say."

"You don't know a woman's love."

"That is true. I lost my mother too young." Hridayank scoffed. "Call me unfortunate."

Roshanak briskly walked away from the pyres. Hridayank followed. "Shahamsaram, one last word."

Roshanak wiped her tears. "Yes?"

"Some people can't be separated even by death. A true lover will find his beloved even amongst ashes. He will dig through earth and know by the smell of the skeleton, the hollow of the eyes, the coldness of the bony fingers."

Roshanak's lips quivered. "You are hurting me."

Hridayank took her by the hand again, and again were they standing by the pyres. "Do not think of how he looked. Do not search for the colour of his skin, his curls or the glitter of his eyes. Those are all gone. Find him with your heart. Close your eyes, Shahamsaram, and you will find your lover."

Roshanak closed her eyes and stretched out her hands. Listening to the beating of her heart, she let herself be drowned in the voice of Kazu. He was calling her from far, yet she could feel him. In the air, in the ground beneath, inside her. He was alive, breathing, but in a different world.

"The eighteenth pyre," she said.

Hridayank went to the man who was overseeing the pyres. After a brief conversation, he returned to Roshanak. "The man said this was going to be the son-in-law of Omkara's daughter, had the Shah not launched an attack."

Roshanak fell to her knees. She was able to find Kazu. Her love was true. It was pure, untainted.

"Stand up, Shahamsaram. You must not go low. Now you are the mother of Persia."

"I can't be."

"You will be. What my Shah wishes," Hridayank's voice quaked like cracking earth, "he will receive."

He helped her get up and guided her out of the cremation ground. "Please clean your face." He offered his shawl. "The Shah would be heartbroken to find your gorgeous beauty damaged."

"I never thought beauty was so important."

"It is, Shahamsaram. Beauty is a balm to the soul. It brings a smile to the faces of the downtrodden."

Roshanak sniffed back her tears and ensured she didn't look destroyed and done with life. It was her marriage today, and no one would want her to be here near the jinxed dead, although she found this place more breathable and fresh than the halls. Those four walls threatened her independence.

"I hope we will go along well, Shahamsaram."

Roshanak nodded. "Yes. Please keep my secret safe with you."

"That is what I am doing my whole life. Burying secrets deep down in my core. Yours will go there too. Don't be afraid, Shahamsaram."

"I take my leave."

He bowed. "May the gods bless you."

Hridayank waited till the sound of her anklets ceased.

"Mesmerising." He heaved a sigh. "Roshanak is both beautiful and good at heart. The Shah had to marry her. I can't blame him. Maybe I would have done the same if I was him. But am I really him?"

A lone tear trickled down his eye. If not with the Shah, what was even his price?

****

Roshanak was greeted by a few guests while returning to the hall. There, the girls had now sat to have their food. She looked around to find her mother, only in vain. Melissa wasn't there.

"Where had you been?"

Out of all the people who existed, Roshanak regretted meeting Odile. "I-I was away, Kandake."

"Roaming around on your wedding? That's definitely not good upbringing."

Roshanak didn't ever want to bring disrespect upon her parents. "I wasn't roaming around, Kandake. I had gone to the cremation ground to pray for the ones who died. On my fortunate day, I don't want to forget the ones who gave up their life to save their family, which is both my parents and the Shah. I am grateful to all those men who fought bravely until their last breath."

Odile was taken aback. She gulped. "I see." She twirled a necklace in her hand. "Here, this is made of gold. Costs more than all of your heads combined. I gift this to you."

"I will not take something less than my merit and worth."

Odile raised a brow. "And what price do you quote?"

"I think I am priceless, Kandake. You said this gold necklace is more expensive than all our heads combined, but you forget that now I the Queen of Persia. I can't be so trivial. It is a direct insult to the Shah."

Roshanak couldn't help but blurt it out even though she expected to be slapped. However, instead of being chided or humiliated for her heritage, she saw the Kandake smirk.

"Feisty. I like it." Odile put the necklace around her neck. "Treasure this. I don't know if I will be giving you more presents in the future, but this is the first one from me. It's in your willpower to decide if you want this to be your last or not."

Roshanak turned red like her ruby ring. "Thank you."

"You took a considerable time praying for the dead."

Roshanak concluded it would be best to be honest. Odile would better hear it from her than her spies. "I was talking with the hazarahpatish." She took a pause, waiting for Odile to squeeze out every fault in her character for meeting a man alone on her sacred day.

"Oh..." Odile's face turned pale. She averted her gaze. "You should learn from him what the Shah likes and dislikes. He knows him better than anyone else, maybe even me. I may be the Shah's mother, but the hazarahpatish is a fragment of his soul."

Roshanak was welcomed back to back with surprises. It seemed the hazarahpatish had a solid reputation.

"Anyways, go and wash yourself and get changed. You will be spending your first night with the Shah."

The sky broke on Roshanak's head.

"And obey your husband. Don't resist. It's not in our culture." Odile strode away.

Roshanak's first duty as the glorious Shahamsaram was soon to happen.

word count: 2270 words.

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