THE COURTESAN OF JAIGARH (Complete)

Part 1-Sold

 Twelfth Century, Northern India

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"Neelu, come here," the woman called out to the little girl busy watching the gulls on the wharf.

The girl turned her pretty blue eyes inquiringly toward her mother. Then with a last look at the bickering gulls, she ran to her mother.

"Your father is leaving, Neelu. I tried to stop him, but he refuses to stay," the woman said, wiping a tear from her eye.

The girl looked wistfully at the tall and stocky man waving to them from the deck of the ship. He was handsome, with dark curls and bright blue eyes, his foreign heritage evident.

Neelanjana loved her father, and couldn't understand why he was leaving. Just the previous day he had carved a tiny wooden horse for her to play with. He had pulled her onto his lap and kissed her cheeks. Little did she know that it was his way of bidding farewell to his daughter. He was going back to his homeland, far away, and to the family that was already waiting for him there. He could hardly take this native woman and her offspring with him. That would cause a scandal.

The ship sailed away, pulling slowly from the harbor and then making its way into the open sea. They stood watching it, till it was but a tiny speck in the distance. Her mother wiped her tears and with dejected, drooping shoulders, made her way to their small home in the impoverished quarters of the city.

"Will father never come back?" she asked her mother, who shook her head mutely.

The next few weeks passed in an effort to keep body and soul together. They had little money, for the foreign merchant hadn't been very successful in his deals. Ambika, Neelanjana's mother, sold the few pieces of jewelry she had, but the shrewd goldsmith, gauging her circumstances, offered her a paltry sum.

Ambika counted the gold coins on her palm. She knew that she had been shortchanged, but what could she do? It was better to sell it than be robbed on the highway. She had no intention of staying in the city which had caused her so much heartache. It would be better to leave for the neighboring kingdom.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she was wandering the streets, when she collided with someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," she muttered, raising her head to look at the man in front of her. He was of average height, his swarthy skin weather-beaten, but his features were pleasant to behold. He was carrying a sack on his donkey.

"No offense taken, lady," he smiled with twinkling eyes. "Here, let me help you," he offered, taking the bag from her hand, and placing it on his donkey.

"Let me see you to your home," he said, leading the donkey and falling in step beside Ambika.

"You're very kind, sir," she said, thankful for the company on the long trek back to her quarters.

"It is easy to be kind to a beautiful woman such as you."

Once back in her home, she offered him a meal which he accepted. In the course of conversation, over a meal of millet bread and buttermilk, she came to know that he was a trader, wandering from one city to another, selling his wares. Though years older than her, he was without a woman in his life. After the meal, he left with a promise to meet again the next day.

Over the course of the week, they met many times, till he proposed that she leave with him.

"I shall be leaving on the morrow. Come with me, dear," he pleaded, pressing a kiss on her shoulder.

Ambika glanced at her blissfully sleeping daughter and nodded her head in agreement.

"We'll be ready in the morning."

"We? My invitation is just for you, my dear. In my wandering life, I have no place for a child," he said dryly.

"But.....what about her?"

"Leave her with someone you know," he suggested.

"I....I...don't know anyone."

The neighbors were as poor as she. None would be ready to take on the added burden of a child. Ambika debated if she could leave her. The prospect of going with this man seemed far pleasanter than struggling on the streets to raise a child.

"Don't worry. I know a man who will help us out," he promised.

The next morning, Neelanjana skipped happily alongside her mother and the stranger with the donkey. She had been dressed in her best attire, her unruly dark curls oiled and tied with a string. Her mother had fed her rice, a delicacy in their poor household. She had been promised a visit to the market.

"How far is it? I am tired," she whined after they had been walking for the good part of an hour.

"Come here, little one." The stranger picked her up and placed her on the donkey. She giggled with glee.

The tavern was situated on the other side of the city, in far from salubrious surroundings. A painted sign declared the name of the establishment to the world. They tied the donkey to a pole outside. Ambika covered her face, as they entered the darkened interior. Men sat drinking wine and cracking bawdy jokes. Travelers partook of frugal meals. The air smelled of smoke and sweat.

Her companion led them to the very back of the tavern, into a tiny room. An old man sat there, counting a handful of coins.

"You're late," he spat, obviously in a bad temper.

"I'm sorry," her companion apologized. "Here she is," he said, pushing the little girl forward.

The old man eyed Neelanjana as if she were a piece of merchandise. He beckoned with a finger. Scared, she hid behind her mother, holding onto her skirts.

The stranger pulled her hand, almost dragging her forward, till she fell into the old man's arms.

She wailed, afraid of the fierce-looking individual, who was hell-bent on pulling her onto his lap.

The old man gave a toothy grin, liking what he saw.

"She will do," he said, handing the bag of money to the man.

Ambika took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and hardened her heart.

"Let's go," her companion said, and they walked out without looking back at the bawling child.