Lilies Unbound | Desi Sapphic Oneshots

03. They Bring Me Flowers

I sit by the window, mindlessly watching the people go by below. The grocer sells his items and the hawker cries out his wares while the children play around them.

The wind blows in, bringing with it the smell of sweet jasmine. The branches of parijat flowers sway slightly from the weight of the flowers in their ceramic vase.

The musician's voice travels through the hall, singing raga Bhairavi. I close my eyes, soaking in the soft winter sun, and the raga, feeling it transport me.

The song ends and the musician looks at me hopefully for some payment. I gesture to the maids waiting at the side, and they give her a ring, studded with gems.

"Thank you, devi." the musician bows, keeping the necklace safe in the leather bag by her side. "Do you have anything you want me to sing?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Sing anything," I say, turning away from her. The musician starts again, singing a ballad, famous amongst the nobility.

I close my eyes and lean back into the low sofa as the slow, mournful tune of the song fills the hall. It tells the tale of a flower girl, poor and downtrodden, doing various other odd jobs to sustain herself.

One day the illavarasan's friends were out on a joy ride around the city when they came across her. Buying flowers from her out of pity, they ride by, satisfied with their good deed for the day. But one of them stays back, unwilling to go galloping with his friends.

"What is your name?" he asks the girl, captivated by her beauty. Her clothes were spotted with stains and flecks of mud, but she carried herself with a certain dignity that he had never seen in the common folk.

She looks at him silently. "Why do you want to know, sire? Please, do not concern yourself with us lowly people," she announces loudly, before turning away from him.

Since then, he was taken with her, sometimes riding or other days walking to her usual spot, either to buy flowers or to stand and admire her.

Soon, the two fell in love with each other, both waiting excitedly for when they would meet. Their small exchange, while he bought flowers, was the only time they could talk, for she was but a flower girl and he the friend of the illavarasan.

One day, weeks after the two first met, the illavarasan followed his friend, curious to see where he had been slipping off during their classes and practice.

When he saw his friend walk up to the flower girl, he too was taken by her beauty. He ran back to the palace and begged his father to have the flower girl's hand in marriage.

"I beg of you, Father!" the illavarasan pleaded. "She is all I can think about. I cannot live without her beside me!" he cried, his heart beating as he waited for his father to answer. Not a thought he spared for his friend, forget the girl.

The arasan pondered over this issue long and hard, before finally giving in. To him it was but the silly obsessions that he too had at that age, before he came into power.

"Fine," he said, a knowing smile on his face. "But, she shall be your mistress, not your wife," he said, despite protests from his son.

"But, Father, you haven't seen her! She would be per--" he broke off as the arasan raised a hand to stop him.

"I haven't seen her and I shall not see her. She is a mere flower girl and you, the illavarasan. Either take her as your mistress or you can forget all about her."

The illavarasan kept quiet and gave orders to his servants to bring the girl to the palace. They fulfilled his orders and brought a frightened flower girl to the palace.

The illavarasan's friend rushed over when he heard the news, distraught at what had taken place. His father had agreed to their marriage, but now this? He couldn't bear to see his beloved in the house of another, sleeping with another.

The illavarasan welcomed him with open arms, delighted at his arrival. "My dear friend!" he exclaimed, hugging him fondly. The boy stood rigid, frozen from rage. "All this is thanks to you! Your act of kindness towards the poor flower girl led me to find such treasure," he said, motioning for him to take a seat.

The boy kept standing, shocked that it was him who had caused all this. He opened his mouth to tell everything, to accuse the illavarasan of stealing his beloved but when he saw his delighted face, he kept quiet, forcing himself to smile.

"I am..." he gulped, tears pooling in his eyes. "I am happy for you, friend. Cherish her," he said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

The musician ended the story here, the climax fading into a sad, mournful ending of two lovers, separated for life, never to be happy with their lives.

I open my eyes as the song ends, turning towards her. She bowed, waiting for me to motion for her to sing another song.

"It was beautiful," I say, controlling my voice from trembling. "You have a gift, and as a token of my appreciation, take this." I motion for a maid to come forward and take the necklace I unclasped from my neck.

"Much obliged, devi." she says, folding her hands and bowing.

I sigh, getting up from the low sofa. "You may go now," I say, and walk to my quarters. The palace gifted to me is spacious, white marble reflecting sunlight in the winter and lattice windows shading the inhabitants from the harsh sun in the summer.

Rooms line the hallways, each one having a different purpose. I reach my quarters and shoo the maids away, insisting that I want to be alone for some time. They disperse reluctantly, but I know they are glad to leave me, allowing them to look after themselves and help their friends while gossiping about the happenings in the main palace.

I flop onto the bed, finally allowing myself to shed the tears pooling in my eyes. But my sadness soon turned to anger as I mentally cursed the musician. "Why did that idiot have to bring up that story now?!" I cried, sitting up.

"Why did who have to bring up what?" a voice asked. I looked up in surprise, a smile erupting on my face as I saw the person who asked the question. Her hands held a vase full of lilies this time, ready to change out the parijat jasmine she had brought me earlier.

She looked at me questioningly, a smile mirroring mine on her face. "Hm?" she asked, walking towards me. I sit rooted in place while she takes a seat next to me.

The only thing I remember next is my lips on hers, both of us falling onto the bed, entwined in each other's arms.

Hours later, as we sit on the balcony overlooking the main palace, moonlight shining down on us, I relay the story to her. She smiles sadly, wiping the tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

"Come, come," she consoles me, patting my back warmly. "Thank goodness my idiot brother took you only as a mistress, hm? Can you imagine if you were his wife? I would never be able to come to your quarters so freely then!" she says, desperately looking for a silver lining.

I smile, placing a small peck on her lips. "Mhm," I hum, leaning against her as we look up at the sky. "I just wish they'd got your gender right. And given us a different ending."

The travelling bards' voices travel for miles, singing the song of two lovers, separated forever. But in a small room in a palace, the two lay close by, looking up at the star-studded sky, wrapped in each other's embrace.