—14— #3
It was a strange and intriguing world. I slipped through the crowd practically invisible with my bland dress and schoolgirl hair, eavesdropping.
I could make out some Punjabi and a great deal of Hindi, of course, but there were other languages I didn’t know.
Arabic, perhaps, or Persian. The speakers all thought themselves protected by the ignorance of a British girl, so I listened avidly, pretending ignorance, drawing a pair of shoes while two women gossiped about a woman who had behaved badly, and sketching the head table while a trio of men spoke seriously about politics.
I didn’t know all the players or even what they meant, but it made me feel like a clever spy that they’d never dream I could understand them.
Tanveer, clad in a silvery tunic brocaded with an elaborate pattern of vines, sat beside his sister, listening intently to an old man to his right.
I wondered if the man was a relative. He had the look of a seer, with a long white beard and a rich velvet tunic.
I tucked myself near a thick drapery to draw them both, first the old man, and then Tanveer.
As I followed the line of his arm to the table, his shoulder to his neck, up to his jaw and face, my skin rustled with memory.
He never looked my way, so I was able to layer in details I already knew by heart—the shape of his eyes to his eyebrows, the high intelligent forehead, his mouth.
Had it always been so rich looking, or was that new?
An old croaky voice said at my elbow in lilting English. “Turn the page, girl.”
Startled, I did exactly that, hiding the portrait so she could not see it, and smoothed the new page as if to start again. My eye fell on Gurdaya, and I loved drawing her, so I began shaping her on the page, wondering how I would mix that exact shade of green from her scarf.
“Hmm,” the woman said. She was ancient, with hooded eyes like a hawk and a nose even bigger than that, and even a pointed chin with a wart on it, like a drawing of a witch from a fairy tale.
It startled me. I didn’t believe in witches, but the resemblance made me wary. “She’s a beauty, but she will suffer.”
“She’s my friend.”
Her dark eyes turned on me. “You will also suffer. Beware.”
I turned and ran from her, darting behind the curtain, weaving around the edges of the women, and plunked down next to my mother, my heart racing.
“Whatever is the matter?” Mother asked.
“A strange old woman gave me a bad fortune.”
The maharani laughed. “The crone gives everyone a bad fortune, until you pay her for a good one.”
I glared across the room, and there she was, staring back at me. I didn’t think she wanted money. I feared she might have seen something true.
It was much later that Tanveer and Gurdaya found me. Gurdaya had shed her jewels, and eagerly took my hand. “You must see the stars from the desert!” I allowed her to tug me along to a set of stairs so old their centers were worn away into little half-moons.
“Careful,” Tanveer said when my slick shoes slipped on the stone. “Take off your shoes.”
We stopped en mass, and as I squatted to take off my shoes, I looked at their feet to see why they weren’t struggling. Both of them wore soft leather slippers. Gurdaya said, “I shall bring you a pair tomorrow.”
We climbed and climbed and climbed—three stories? Four?—until we reached a short corridor that opened onto a flat roof surrounded by a stone wall. We tumbled into the small area, where a telescope was set up with a pair of chairs and a small table.
Tanveer flung out his arms as if he’d prepared the sky himself. “Look!”
The sky was enormous here, stretching horizon to horizon in a vast blackness that made me vaguely dizzy.
An ocean of stars filled the canvas, bright and sharp, small and red, scatters and clusters and knots, some in swirls of haze, some in piercing points shining alone.
I lifted my hands to my face, turning in a circle to look in all directions. “Oh!”
Tanveer stood close beside me. “Now think,” he said quietly. “There is nothing above us at all, only air and sky. Nothing between us and that star, right there. If we had a vehicle, we could simply fly there.”
My sense of wonder deepened. “What would we find, do you think?”
Gurdaya joined us. “Perhaps there is a place where elephants rule, and humans are made beasts of burden.” She was as fond of elephants as Tanveer was of tigers and cats.
“What could humans do for elephants?” he asked. “I do not see how we would be useful to them.”
“Maybe they would have no use for us,” she allowed, “but I would very much like to see a world where they reigned.”
“Mmm.” I peered into the river of the Milky Way. “What if there were roads between worlds, and people moved between the planets the way we move from country to country?”
“On sky ships!” Tanveer exclaimed.
“I would find a planet where precious jewels were like rocks on the beach,” Gurdaya said, and then lowered her chin to laugh and give me a wide-eyed grin. “Imagine that! A beach littered with rubies and emeralds!”
I had never seen a true beach, but imagined the shores of Nainital lake glinting with colored gemstones. “That would be beautiful.” I wondered if I could paint the vision for her.
“You have so many jewels already,” Tanveer said. “Why do you need more?”
“I don’t need them,” she retorted. “We are imagining what might be beautiful.”
“What would you want to find, Tanveer?” I asked.
He folded his arms, gazing off toward the horizon. “I am not sure. The places would not be the same as our world, would they? Maybe some planets have more than one sun or ten moons.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “How about you?”