The Dancer and the Fragrance of Buhkoor
DISCLAIMER: ALL EVENTS AND CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE FICTITIOUS AND NOT BASED ON REAL EVENTS.
That night should have been the most anticipated night for her, but two years had passed, and Rouhi still hadn't seen the man who rescued her. She was exhausted, yet finally, the night ended successfully without any commotion. One by one, she tucked her jewelry into their boxes before cleansing herself of the day's dust and grime.
She combed through her long, flowing hair, dividing it into two sections and applying a special oil to ensure it grew healthy and long.
"Rouhi? Shama bujhana mat bhoolna."
(Rouhi, don't forget to blow out the candle.)
"Ji Ammi..."
(Yes, Mother...)
Before sleeping, Rouhi took out the gold coin she always kept as a lucky charm. She raised her hands and prayed.
"Ya Rabb... Where can I find my Lord? Just once! Hehe..." Rouhi tried to coax God to let her meet the man who had saved her again.
"But if it isn't the time yet, then please, protect my Lord wherever he is..."
Rouhi tried to recall his face—the firm jawline, eyes as sharp as an eagle's. His eyebrows were thick and met in the middle, perfectly neat. The shape of his upper lip was thin, while his lower lip was full...
"Your creation is so perfect, God. How could You mold such a masterpiece?" Rouhi prayed again, smiling to herself.
Rouhi blew out her candle and drifted to sleep.
The next day, as usual, the market was bustling with traders from every corner of the village. And the saddest part was...
"Jaldi aao! Yeh mard bohat qawi hai, ek waqt mein do gaaye kheench sakta hai! Aur yahan auratein bhi maujood hain jo tumhare ghar ke kaam halka kar sakti hain!" shouted a man at the far end.
("Come quickly! This man is strong; he can pull two cows at once! There are women here too, who can lighten your housework!")
It was a heartbreaking sight common among the lower classes and prisoners of war. Such was life; they didn't choose to be born into a world that was already in chaos. Those slaves were lucky if they met a kind master; if not, a miserable fate awaited them.
"Baji… hiks… mujhe bachao…"
(Sister, hiks.. help me...)
Rouhi had no power to help; her voice was useless here. If she fought to pull the child away, she might end up being sold herself by some random person. She could only pray that the child would fall into the hands of a kind master.
By the time she reached home, her basket was full of food and fresh milk. Meanwhile, her mother was teaching music and singing, training other women who wished to work as dancers like herself. Being a dancer wasn't a great choice; besides being looked down upon by society, they were often used as spies by influential people. Because of that, many dancers would suddenly vanish, never to return home.
"Rouhi... we have to go tonight to celebrate the arrival of the nobles, so get ready quickly," her mother said.
"Yes, Mother..."
In the evening, Rouhi was dressed in full regalia with trinkets adorning her body. Her saree this time was finer than usual. It felt like a nostalgia of two years ago—the place where she almost lost her leg, the place where she met the man who gave her the gold coin.
"Hahaha..."
#Sound of Rouhi's ankle bells jingling
The laughter of the nobles filled the room. Some dancers sat with them, serving food and hand-feeding the guests. Rouhi didn't want to look at a single corner of this place; all that mattered was entertaining the guests with her dance. The sound of drums from all sides guided her every step across the floor.
[Song by : me ]
🎵 "Woh aankhen kahan kho gayi?
Mujhe doosri dafa shukriya kehne ka mauqa bhi na mila~
Kya main apne aaqa ke liye itni haqeer hoon?
Woh aankhen kahan kho gayi?
Ya kisi aur sitare ko dekh rahi hain~?" 🎵
("Where have those eyes gone? I didn't get a chance to thank him a second time~. Am I too lowly for my Lord? Where have those eyes gone? Or are they gazing at another star~?")
#The nobles throw coins
With every line Rouhi sang, the nobles threw coins, a sign that she had successfully captivated their eyes and ears.
🎵 "Khuda… kya mujhe phir uska intezar karna hoga?
Magar is dil ki tadap ko main kaise seh sakti hoon…
Mere aaqa, mere paas laut aaiye…
Mujhe un aankhon ki yaad aati hai,
Woh aankhen jo sirf mujh par narm thi…
Woh aankhen kahan hain?
Ya kisi aur sitare ko dekh rahi hain?
Mujhe bataiye…
Kya yeh chand ab purana ho chuka hai~? 🎵
("God, must I wait for him again? But I cannot bear this longing in my chest... Oh my Lord, return to me... I miss those eyes, the eyes that were gentle only to me. Where are those eyes? Or are they looking at another star? Tell me, has this moon grown old~?")
When eyes are louder than anything, they become a woman's weapon to seduce her lover. When the voice cannot be heard, plead softly; fundamentally, the person you love might just want to be called with affection. Rouhi resumed her singing and dancing.
"Zara buland awaaz mein gao, meri beti!"
(Sing louder, my daughter!)
This time, Rouhi was very lucky. Tips in the form of money kept showering down—not just coins, but flower petals too.
"The Sultan has arrived!" the eunuch shouted in the hall.
The dancers and Rouhi stopped, bowing to respect the man entering the hall. His strides were long, the scent of his clothes was distinct, and his charisma commanded absolute respect from everyone in the room.
"Continue... I am going to rest. Please, do not get drunk in this place," the man remarked before heading upstairs.
The room returned to its bustle of laughter and Rouhi's dance. The drumbeats grew louder, livening the atmosphere as Rouhi continued to entertain the guests.
1 Hour After the Event
The servants were nudging each other, arguing over who would enter the room where the Sultan was resting—which happened to be right across from Rouhi's resting room. She thought he must be some minor Sultan traveling, since he chose to rest without enjoying the party downstairs.
"Ishh, you guys!"
"Aw!"
"Aw! Ammi, it hurts...!"
"Dressed like this, you won't be able to enter the Sultan's room..." The innkeeper scolded the servants who had been making a fuss.
She was also frustrated trying to find a servant suitable to serve the resting Sultan.
"Hey, you! Come here..."
"Me???" Rouhi looked left, right, and behind her. The woman was pointing at her. Rouhi quickly shook her head, indicating she wasn't a servant working there.
"Hurry! Or the Sultan might behead you!" she commanded.
Rouhi was annoyed but also scared. What if a servant got punished just because no one could deliver food to the Sultan's room?
"Put it on his table, then leave... and don't you dare try to seduce him! The Sultan is not a vulgar man!" the woman barked.
"Ji... Ammi..." Rouhi nodded. Unexpectedly, she had a new task to do, while the quarreling servants glared at her.
The head servant knocked on the door, but Rouhi found it strange—if the person inside was an important noble, why were there no guards? Or was he a "fake" Sultan?
"E...ekhem, Greetings my Lord, there is food and drink for you..."
"Greetings... just come in..."
"Yes, my Lord... quick, get in!" the head servant whispered, forcing Rouhi inside.
Rouhi stomped her foot in annoyance. She was already exhausted today. It was her fault for not sleeping in the room with her mother and looking out of her room instead.
As Rouhi entered, the scent of Buhkoor filled the air. The door was shut quickly, startling her. Now, her job was to bring the food to the table.
"My Lord... I am placing the food on the table," Rouhi said, but there was no reply. Her large eyes tried to peek from another direction.
"Don't, Rouhi... or you'll get a stye in your eye," she scolded herself inwardly, shaking her head.
Just as she thought that, the man walked out of the washroom with only a cloth covering his lower half. Rouhi, who had been looking down, became even more frightened and sat down, keeping her gaze low.
"Why did a female servant come? I told them only male servants were allowed. Are they deaf?"
The man let out a long sigh. He wanted to scold this young servant—who was none other than Rouhi herself—but he was too tired to bother commenting.
"Why are you sitting on the floor? Stand up," he ordered.
Rouhi stood up quickly, her face still lowered. Her heart was thumping hard, not for any reason other than fear.
"Hah, goodness, I forgot my robe. Go and fetch my robe from the washroom, quickly," he commanded.
"Yes, my Lord..." Rouhi ran toward the magnificent washroom to get his robe.
#Sound of Rouhi's ankle bells jingling
With her saree skirt slightly damp, Rouhi hurried back from the washroom to hand him the robe. The jingling of the bells slightly irritated the man's ears.
"What kind of servant wears jewelry? Are you a cow?" the man remarked.
"Um, Lord... I am a dancer..." Rouhi answered softly while handing him the robe.
"Haih... take them off... it's haram, haram. It could attract the opposite sex..." the man ordered.
Rouhi crouched down to remove her anklets, but one got snagged in the fabric of her saree. She wanted to curse herself.
The man let out a long sigh; he stood up, put on his robe properly, then crouched down to help Rouhi untangle the anklet. Wrapped in her saree, Rouhi was shocked as the man's hand pulled at her skirt. Through the Dupatta covering her face, his silhouette looked familiar.
"Next time, you must not wear jewelry like this unless it's for your husband, do you understand??" The man was still finding a way to untangle it without tearing the saree.
"Y...yes, my Lord..." Rouhi could see his jawline very clearly now. It felt familiar, as if she had seen it somewhere before.
"There..." The man stood up, followed by Rouhi, and handed her the anklet. "In the future, don't wear this if you come in here, understand?"
Rouhi took the anklet from him. She was curious but didn't dare to look up. She could only nod slowly.
"What are you waiting for? Do you want to serve me in bed too?" the man asked, puzzled.
"N...no, Lord! I shall take my leave!!"
Rouhi immediately bolted out of the room.
Meanwhile, the Sultan chuckled softly, seeing that the girl could run quite fast.
"Goodness, that child..."
As the Sultan stepped forward to take his drink, he almost stepped on a small fallen bell. He picked it up and placed it on the table.
#To be continued