What does it feel like to walk barefoot while the earth itself clings to the soles of your feet? Isn't it true that when everything in this world touches, it must produce something new? And isn't the reason for walking barefoot to feel the hardness, the softness, and the pebbles upon the ground?
Is it not so? Then, what is it that you fear when you realize you have walked with such bravery?
Rouhi clutched her gold coin. Whether it was because she fell in love too easily or because her heart simply enjoyed torturing her body by waiting for the same person to return, she did not know.
"My Lord... today I danced before the nobles again, but I did not see you. Have you walked that far away?" Rouhi whispered.
For a moment, Rouhi recalled the incident where the nobleman she served food to helped remove her anklet. Although it sounded familiar, she knew she must not jump to conclusions too quickly.
"Surely, you must be married by now, right?" Rouhi asked while gazing at the sky.
"My Lord... I pray that you are always given an abundance of fortune and become a good leader for your family, because you know there are so many wicked people in this world. Wherever you are, I hope you are happy..." Rouhi continued her heart-to-heart with the sky that stretched wide across the corners of the world.
Meanwhile, the man at the end of his inn room was also breathing in the fresh air. The very long journey truly made it impossible for him to relax, even for just a moment of staring blankly at the sky. In his hand, he was fiddling with the broken bell from the anklet earlier. Whether out of boredom or a genuine desire to toss the bell out of the inn, he hesitated.
"I should be sleeping, not daydreaming like th—"
As he was about to enter his room, the man saw a woman without her Dupatta looking up at the sky, her hands raised as if praying to the Owner of the Universe. Although blurred, he could see her hair flowing down in beautiful curls. The man smiled and retreated into his room.
For a man whose life was filled with responsibility, there was never time to simply remember the faces of those who passed through his life. Yet, if there was a moment where his gaze lingered on you even for a second, it was certain that your face would haunt his thoughts, even without an introduction. It is different for a woman. A woman considers every small moment a memory to be stored in her mind. That is why the saying goes that women always lead with their feelings, and it is true; one kind act from a man can make her think he has other intentions, though indeed, not all are like that.
The Next Day
As usual, Rouhi went to the market to find food. Fortunately, the inn where she stayed was near the market, so she could pick fresh fruit in the early morning. But the sound of someone behind the inn, sounding like they were practicing swordsmanship, caught her attention. Being naturally curious about her surroundings, Rouhi peeked without a second thought.
#SWISH!
"Get up... that is not how you swing a sword!"
"My back... Uncle, you are too serious! Be a little gentle with me! OW! MY HEAD!"
#WHACK!
His head was tapped with a wooden stick; the uncle and nephew were practicing swordsmanship.
"Get up, Aryan bin Bahram... your father did not die to see you fall to the ground," he said coldly and firmly.
"But Uncle! Don't hit my head if I'm wrong!" Aryan rose, clutching his wooden sword again.
With a body not as large as his uncle's, how could he overcome a sword swing that fast? Arshan had been raised by him since the boy's parents died in the war two years ago. The title of Sultan passed to his nephew, and he was given the title of Shah. Because his brother wanted to protect his son from insiders, he instead took his brother's position as the Shah (King).
"One day, you must replace me as the ruler. Remember, Aryan, no weak king sits upon the throne... get up... fight me like a man," he said.
"I don't want to! I want to live free! Why don't you just get married quickly, Uncle! Then make an heir!" Aryan refused flatly; he disliked a life full of rules.
"This child..."
#WHACK!
"Aww! My bottom! Uncle! It hurts!"
The man swatted his nephew's bottom as a lesson. It was humorous to be told to marry by an underage nephew; who wouldn't be annoyed?
From a distance, Rouhi could see the two men debating, and funnily enough, she laughed when one of them was punished. Rouhi did not linger there, fearing it would be considered impolite if she were caught, and finally left. But as she walked out of the inn, several nobles were whispering.
"Do not reveal that the Lord is here, and do not call him Shah while we are here. Call him Sultan... we never know where enemies might be hiding."
(Note: Sultan is a rank below a king, like an official or officer. Whereas the title for a king is Shah.)
"Shah?! Does that mean in the inn I stay in, there is a King???" Rouhi muttered to herself.
Rouhi quickened her pace; she did not want to be slandered for eavesdropping on others' conversations. To her, the lives of nobles were too complicated and dizzying.
In the evening, one of the eunuchs entered the man's room, giving a report about the trade market and who controlled the land. He did not want a repeat of the incident two years ago where a merchant mistreated innocent humans, abusing his power to oppress the small.
"Is Rajju doing his job well?"
"Yes, my Lord... in the last two years since the market was handled by Rajju, conditions have improved. But still, human trafficking is rampant... because of the influence of merchants whose rank is higher than Rajju's," the eunuch explained.
The man let out a long sigh. It could not be denied that prisoners of war and the caste system still applied everywhere.
"Free some of the slaves. Make the men my soldiers, and for the children and women, send them immediately to the palace to be servants for the royal family... if those rats speak up, tell them Sultan Shael bin Ahmad will execute them if they refuse," Shael said.
"Yes, my Lord..." The eunuch immediately left to deliver the message.
Once his eunuch had gone, Shael tried to relax and think clearly about how he should eradicate these rats.
"What should I do, brother... your younger brother here is blunt in executing bastards; I am not as gentle as you," Shael said while looking at a locket containing a painting of the previous Shah.
To clear his mind, Shael stepped out of his room. Below, his companions were watching dancers entertain them with beautiful music.
[Song original made by : me]
🎵 "Door se ek roshni nazar aati hai,
Umeed karti hoon ke woh tum ho…
Magar yeh banda door se hi dua kar sakta hai,
Umeed hai meri duaaon ki sada tum tak pahunch jaaye…" 🎵
("I saw a light from a distance, hoping it was you... But I could only pray from a distance, hoping my prayers would reach you...")
Step by step, Shael descended. The music was so festive, the sound of instruments blending with the dancer's song. It was enough to entertain his weary self. Only a few more steps to the ground floor.
🎵 "Mere aaqa… kya aapko meri yaad nahi aati?
Kyunke mera dil hamesha aapko pukarta hai, jab hamari nigaahein mil bhi nahi paati…
Kya meri duaaon ki sada aap tak pahunchti hai?" 🎵
("Oh my lord... don't you miss me? Because my heart always calls out to me even when our eyes don't meet. Do my prayers reach you?")
#Sound of Rouhi's ankle bells jingling as she dances
The nobles were swept away by Rouhi's melodious singing; even every sound of the bells on her feet was sweet to their ears.
🎵 "Mere aaqa, main aap se mohabbat karti hoon…
Ab ise chhupa nahi sakti.
Bas is ek martaba,
meri duaaon ko ijazat dijiye
ke woh aapko mere paas le aaye…" 🎵
("My lord, I have feelings for you. I can't hide it any longer, just this once, let my prayers bring you to me.")
As Rouhi sat on the floor with her hands raised to the sky then toward her chest, her face deeply reflecting every word, and as both her hands passed her face...
🎵 "Meri duaaon ko ijazat dijiye ke woh aapko mere paas le aaye." 🎵
("Let my prayers lead you to me.")
Rouhi stopped singing. Her body froze, her eyes fixed on the man who had descended two steps and sat exactly in the seat that had been empty since yesterday, now occupied by him.
"My Lord..." Rouhi said softly.
Meanwhile, Shael remained silent, thinking it was perhaps part of the dance performance, so he didn't notice that the dancer, Rouhi, was staring at him, transfixed.
"Why have you stopped singing? Please continue..." Shael asked, glancing left and right and realizing Rouhi had been silent for a long time.
Unable to continue her song, Rouhi looked at the face she always prayed for. The man who had treated her well two years ago. Her feet moved on their own, slowly approaching Shael. Everyone in the hall wondered why a dancer had fallen silent for so long and then suddenly approached the Sultan. Shael, still thinking it was part of the show, did not budge.
"My Lord... do you still remember me?? Rouhi... I am Rouhi..." Rouhi's voice trembled with every syllable.
The nobles began to whisper inappropriately; how could a Sultan know a dancer, especially when the dancer seemed to be pleading for something.
"Lord!" In her overwhelming happiness,
Rouhi lifted Shael's palm to hold it.
"EY! HOW DARE YOU!"
The eunuch's temper flared, and he nearly drew his sword from its scabbard, but Shael stopped him. He signaled for calm. Now the hall turned into a place of gossip; they were all shocked as Rouhi held the Sultan's hand without shame.
Shael released his hand from Rouhi, then touched Rouhi's chin, lifting it to meet his gaze.
"Forgive me, my child... but I do not know you. Perhaps you have the wrong person," Shael said in a flat but gentle tone.
Rouhi shook her head quickly, her eyes welling up with tears. In a pleading tone:
"It's Rouhi, my Lord... Rouhi..." she said faintly.
Everyone began to whisper again, making it look as if Shael had abandoned a woman he had used for one night and then left. The eunuch's hand was itching to punish the insolent Rouhi, but Shael still held him back.
With a long sigh, Shael gently patted Rouhi's head. Truly, he was not being arrogant, but he really did not know her, or perhaps his memory was blurred—he might not remember at all.
"Perhaps we have met, and you may remember me, but I am sorry... I do not remember at all, child," he said softly.
To avoid slander, Shael rose from his seat, bid farewell to Rouhi, and left the hall, followed by his eunuch.
The nobles also dispersed, not wanting to be involved in the misunderstanding. They feared that staying longer would raise great questions in their minds, leading to an interrogation of Rouhi, which surely no one wanted to probe.
#Sobbing
Rouhi covered her face and cried. She felt so pitiful; her face, hidden by her hands, touched the cold floor of the hall. To make matters worse, the sky joined in Rouhi's sorrow, and a heavy rain began to fall. The sound of the rain masked Rouhi's crying.
"It's Rouhi... Rouhi..." she kept uttering those words as if it were all she could say; her lips could only produce her name as simply as possible. Rouhi wiped away the tears that fell incessantly. her chest ached so much, being forgotten by the person she had admired for the last two years.
Meanwhile, in his room, Shael examined documents as usual without feeling a shred of guilt.
"Eunuch... is that girl still crying?" Shael asked.
"She has returned to rest, my Lord," the eunuch replied.
"Thank goodness... poor child, at such a young age becoming a dancer to entertain nobles..." Shael went back to checking documents.
"But Lord, surely tomorrow you will be reported poorly by others," the eunuch worried.
"If they dare to slander me, it means they are ready to lose their tongues... give me the next documents," Shael explained.
The rain grew heavier, and Rouhi was on the balcony of the inn, letting the rain soak her tired body so she could cry her heart out. No one would hear or notice her in the midst of such a heavy downpour.
Sometimes, a life that holds onto only one hope is not a good choice, and sometimes we must possess an indifferent nature so that our small hearts, which are so easily moved, are not wounded by the wrong person. This life is too harsh for humans with gentle hearts.
#To be continued