Kama: Liberation (Vol-I)

Chapter 5: The Song

The virtuous was once vicious.

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The men, along with the Senapati and the Rajan gathered in a huge celebration hall to dance and sing in honour of the new groom. Kings and generals from subordinate kingdoms had come to congratulate the mighty Senapati on his wedding.

Pale golden light seeped in through the curtains, pouring into the waves of glamour falling down the chandelier. Soft melody of flute came to the ears of the men. It soothed their unrequited loves, like an ointment on the wounds sewn by ballads. Little fireflies roamed around the darker corridors lit by torches.

"Everyone, please take your seat."
The Rajan sat on his majestic throne of marble, ivory and gold. A maidservant with a fan stood on the right while his bodyguard Indumala stood on the left.

The women living in the palace had come to this mansion too, watching from a floor above from where they had unrestricted view of the happenings occuring below. The Rajan had bought for them velvety skirts and muslin shawls. They were prohibited from sitting along with the men.

Though, there was one lady in particular, dressed in red with a veiled face who had joined the men. Her copper coloured hands were enriched with flaxen bangles. 

"Let the night be enjoyed!" Rudra announced the celebration.

Chalices dripping with smooth wine clinked against one another. Rudra's  costly fur coat dripped in a mixture of salty sweat and the intoxicating liquid.

Aryamna stared emptily at his chalice. The liquid mocked him– his life and his decisions. Swirling in it he saw reflections of his long forgotten past. Once, this wine had been a favourite. Alas, the Rajan inside his soul had been put to sleep, alike to princesses from fairy tales– with a golden stick of loyalty and a silver stick of silence. He took a sip, the bitter liquid burning his tongue. He asked a servant to take it away.

His eyes fell on Indumala. The sixteen feet long spear looked mighty in her strong grip. Her feet were positioned a little far from one another, her spine straight and head held high. The light of the chandelier and the torches flickered in her warm eyes like a dance of ire. In them he saw the towering walls, barriers to vice. Sealed lips and a stoic face reflected the values with which Aryamna had brought her up. Maybe for one day he could let her have madira. Though he knew from the disgust in her eyes that she would never taste a drop with these seemingly lusty men. A shiver ran down his spine. Did he own the right to judge?

"Where are the girls?" Rudra thundered.

A flock of girls came. Thin golden coins seamed into a chain embraced the voluptuous waists and purple skirts draped the legs. A tight maroon cloth was fitted around their bosom, sleek gold necklaces resting over the cleavage. Their eyes were dusted blue and lips painted orange, contrasting the dangling violet earrings.

Aryamna compared them with his daughter. Indumala wore white trousers and a sublime yellow blouse under a silvery armour. Her hands were covered in metallic bangles. She was a sorrel goddess bathed in lustre. He didn't hate the dancers either, but maybe despised the beings who enjoyed the connotations associated with courtroom dancers.

The dance commenced.

The girls spread their arms while standing in a queue, bending over and then leaning back, creating the illusion of rippling waves. Their graceful, small steps headed towards the corners of the hall. They mimicked the swans, swaying their hips and expressing love along with the tunes of sarod and sarangi. The guests were astonished to notice a morsing too. The dancers added more life to the colourful night.