The Moghul, page 57
"You are home, Sahib." The servants were waiting, beaming andimmaculate in fresh muslin _dhotis_, as Hawksworth pushed open thedoors of his compound. It was nearing midnight. "Your house is honoredtonight with a special evening."
"What are you planning? My farewell?"
The servants examined him uncomprehending as he pushed past theportiere of the doorway.
The room was heavy with sandalwood incense. In the lamplight herecognized Kamala's musicians: the gray-haired flautist in a long_lungi _wrap and bare to the waist, the drummer smiling widely in aplain white shirt and brown _dhoti_. Although he had not seen them fordays, they paused only briefly to acknowledge him. The drummer wasabsorbed in tuning his instrument, using a small hammer to tap blocksof wood wedged beneath the leather thongs securing the drumhead. As headjusted the tension on the thongs, he periodically tested the drum'spitch against a note from the flute.
Kamala was nowhere to be seen. Hawksworth stared about the roomquizzically, then turned to the musicians. They responded with apuzzled shrug and motioned toward a rear door.
"She summoned them here tonight, Sahib. She did not tell them why. Noone has seen her all day. It is very worrying." The servant shuffleduneasily. "Has the Sahib heard the stories in the bazaar?"
"What stories?"
From behind the curtains came the sudden tinkling of tiny bells. Themusicians smiled in recognition.
As the servants edged toward the curtained doorway to look, Hawksworthextracted a half-empty bottle of brandy from his chest and threwhimself down against a bolster.
What's this all about? Why can't I be alone for once? Tonight of allnights she does this.
He puzzled a moment over Kamala, her erratic and powerful moods, thenhis thoughts returned gloomily to the _Diwan-i-Khas _and to Shirin. Hecould not give up hope. Never. He never gave up hope.
There was another tinkling of bells and the curtain at the doorway wasswept aside. Standing there, jewels afire in the lamplight, was Kamala.
He noticed the two musicians stare at her for an instant, then exchangequick, disturbed glances.
She was, it seemed, more striking than he had ever seen her. Her eyeswere seductively lined with _kohl _and her lips were an inviting red,matching the large dot on her forehead. In one side of her nose shewore a small ring studded with diamonds. Her hair was swept back andsecured with rows of rubies and her throat and arms were circled withbands of gold imbedded with small green emeralds. She wore a silkenwrap folded in pleats about each leg in a way that enhanced the fullcurve of her hips. Her waist was circled by a belt of beaten gold, andher palms and the soles of her feet had been reddened with henna. Asshe came toward him, the bands of tiny bells at her ankles punctuatedthe sensuous sway of her breasts beneath her silk halter.
"You've returned early. I'm glad." As she moved into the light, hethought he caught a glimpse of some profound melancholy in her eyes. Healso noted her voice was strangely frail.
"Is there supposed to be a ceremony tonight I didn't know about?" AsHawksworth studied her, he took another long swallow of brandy, itsheat burning away at his anguish.
"This is a special evening. I have decided to dance Bharata Natyam onelast time, for Lord Shiva."
"What do you mean, one last time?"
She seemed to stare past him for a moment, then she slowly turned. "I'mtruly glad you've come. To be here tonight. I would have waited foryou, but there was no time. And I wondered if you would reallyunderstand. Perhaps I was wrong. Bharata Natyam is never only for thedancer. So it is good you are here. Perhaps it was meant to be. Perhapsyou can understand something of what I feel tonight."
"I haven't understood much that's happened tonight so far." Hawksworthsettled his brandy bottle awkwardly onto the carpet and forced himselfto bring her into focus.
"You do not seem yourself, my _feringhi _Sahib." She studied him for amoment. "Did you hear sad news of your Persian woman?"
"Nothing. But I'm afraid I've just lost my best chance to save her."
"I don't understand."
"It's not your trouble." He examined her wistfully. "It seems I'll beleaving Agra sooner than I thought. So dance if you want, and then I'llwish you well."
"Your trouble is always my trouble." She frowned as she studied him."But you are leaving? So soon?" She seemed not to wait for an answer asshe went on. "Never mind, I've never understood the affairs ofambassadors and kings. But our parting must not be sad. Let my dance toShiva be my farewell to you."
She turned and signaled to the flautist, who began a low- pitched,poignant melody. "Have you ever seen the Bharata Natyam?"
"Never." Hawksworth sipped more brandy from the bottle and foundhimself wishing he could send them all away and play a suite on hislute, the one he had played for Shirin that day at the observatory.
"Then it may be difficult for you to comprehend at first. With my bodyand my song I will tell Lord Shiva of my longing for him. Do you thinkyou can understand it?"
"I'll try." Hawksworth looked up at her and again sensed some greatsadness in her eyes.
She examined him silently for a moment. "But I want you to understand.Not the words I sing, they're in ancient Sanskrit, but if you watch myhands, they will also speak. I will sing to Lord Shiva, but I give lifeto his song with my eyes, my hands, my body. I will re-create the poemwith my dance. My eyes will speak the desire of my heart. The languageof my hands will tell my longing for Lord Shiva. My feet will show therhythms by which he brings order to the world. If you will try to feelwhat I feel, perhaps Lord Shiva will touch you and lighten yourburden."
"And this is called Bharata Natyam? What does that mean?" Hawksworthslipped off his mud-smeared boots and wearily tossed them next to thecarpet.
"The ancient temple dance of India is Bharata Natyam: bhava means mood,raga means song, tala means rhythm. All these are brought together inthe dance. Natyam means the merging of dance and story. The trueBharata Natyam has seven movements: some are called pure dance andthese are only rhythms, but some also tell a story. If I were to dancethem all, as I would in the temple, I would have to dance all night."She tried wanly to smile. "But not now. Tonight I am not so strong.Tonight I will dance only the Varnam, the most important movement. Init I will tell the story of how the goddess Parvati, Shiva's belovedconsort, longs for her lord. If I dance well I will become Parvati, andthrough the story of her love for Shiva, I will tell my own."
"So it's really just a love song?"
"It is Parvati's song of longing for her lord. The words are verysimple.
