Folly of Wise Men

Chapter - 7 In praise of Flower boys

The event began about two hours after our arrival, and it was a sight very pleasing to the eye. Ladies metamorphosed into great opulence, dressed in the purest silks and adorned with the finest jewelry. Men were no less, swathed in rich angarakha kurtas and turbans decorated with mana spheres. These men and women, who were baptized in gold, were complemented by the dim lighting, which allowed them to flaunt the captured colors. They had come to listen to our songs, the unraveled poetry of our hearts – a filter to our souls, wrought from a tangle.

"You can't find people more poorer." Mihai said

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Those that glitter are poorer, for they can never feel the way we do." He began. "They are slaves to their customs, which anchor them into one place and breed a thirst to spill blood into a gluttonous goblet."

He gestured at them without drawing attention. "These slaves cannot feel the heartbreak or see the mirthful tears of a loved one. So they pay us, the vagabonds, the dreamers of dreams, the wanderers of lonely sands and seas, to fill the void."

"You don't like them?" It was the first time that I saw someone pointing out how weak their varna system is.

"I like their coin, but not their attitudes and the lack of respect. They see us all as whores."

"You are a whore." Samira interrupted, walking towards us. "You flirt and cheat and lie to get coin."

"Yes, I am," he said, rolling his eyes. "I am talking about other people seeing all the men and women of our caste as whores. It's a gross generalization."

"At least you don't get treated like an untouchable. Try living their life for a day and then say you hate this life. Now, have you two gotten the numbers?"

"We both get to go last. What about you?"

"I am not here to play. I am here to entertain myself and get to know the new faces to watch out for."

The three of us had walked through the doors with jali work into a medium-sized auditorium. It had a high ceiling with chandeliers powered by gold-colored mana spheres. We walked between the columns, amidst rows of cushioned floor seating with rich Ambar textiles. Each seat had a side table with snacks and water to enjoy while watching the performances.

The entire first row was reserved for the special guests of Nagendra, the generous patron of the arts who would reward the artists that went on to perform. We walked to that row and sat near the the blonde-haired twins who had come from the north.

History tells us that these people migrated to this continent, moving north en masse during a great cataclysm that tore apart the continent. Some of them mixed with the locals, while others tried to preserve their race by marrying amongst themselves. Which would explain the existence of blondes, brunettes and abominations. The twins mirrored each other down to minute details, bearing a countenance of gold hair over a pale heart, besieged by dawn's first ray. While they were fair skinned they did not have hue of rose on their faces like mihai.

The blonde lady ran her pale gaze over us and her brother seemed to have gotten lost in the intricate design of inlaid silver on veena. The way he hand held it with familiarity showed that he had practice.

"I recognize you two." She said gesturing with her finger. "Who are you?" She asked with an amused smile.

"Indra."

"Indra," she pondered, "I have never seen you before, if I did." She looked me up and down and smirked. "I would have remembered."

I cleared my throat. "Who are you?" I asked politely.