The World Beyond by Sangeeta Bhargava Read Free Book Online Page A

behalf. Abba Huzoor instructed him to distribute some shawls in return.
    Wazir Ali Naqi Khan then stepped forward with another man. Both men raised their right hands to their foreheads and bent down to their waist. ‘Your Majesty, please permit me to present before you the famous poet Amirudin,’ said the Wazir.
    Abba Huzoor smoked his hookah and looked at Amirudin thoughtfully. ‘I thought you were the embellishment of the Mughal court? What brings you to our kingdom?’
    The poet flushed slightly. Keeping his head lowered he replied, ‘Huzoor, as you know, the powers of the Mughal Emperor are now diminished. The Court of Delhi is languishing.’ He paused and lowered his head still further while his voice rose. ‘Avadh, on the other hand, is at the pinnacle of its glory. Everywhere I go I hear about its achievements … I will be grateful if you could permit me to be a part of your esteemed court.’
    Looking at him, Abba Huzoor said, ‘We always have a special place for talent such as yourself. You’re most welcome to be a part of this court.’
    ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ the poet whispered. He again raised his right hand to his forehead, bent low and backed out of the hall.
    A courtier then stepped forward and opened the silver box that had been placed next to the throne. It was one of the boxes that preceded Abba Huzoor’s processions. They enabled the common man to address his grievances to the ruler. The courtier began to read the petition aloud while Abba Huzoor listened to him carefully.
    Salim’s mind began to wander. He again wondered why Abba Huzoor had summoned him. Was he in trouble? He recalled the events of the last few days. Had he done anything he shouldn’t have? He had been late for the morning prayers on Eid. That was all he could think of. Salim drew his breath sharply. Surely not. Why, he was twenty-two. Not a mere lad. He couldn’t possibly be reprimanded in front of the others for something as petty as that. Keeping his head lowered, Salim stole a look at the throne sideways. He looked at the sheets of gold covering the throne, the oblong pillow covered in red velvet, the royal insignia of the fish carved boldly on the headrest. Then he looked at Abba Huzoor with a combination of awe and affection.
    Once the last petition had been read and instructions given by Abba Huzoor on how to deal with the matter, Ali Naqi Khan stepped forward again.
    ‘His Majesty would now like to present the sword of honour to Kishore for saving his brother from the clutches of the man-eating tigress.’
    A scrawny village bumpkin with his left arm in a sling and a bruise on his left cheek stepped forward and grinned shyly. ‘Bow down, you fool,’ a courtier whispered as he nudged him with his elbow. The boy quickly performed the taslim.
    ‘His left hand has been mauled by that tigress,’ whispered the courtier standing next to Salim. ‘I don’t think he will ever be able to use that hand again.’ Salim looked at the boy’s arm and shuddered.
    The boy grinned again as he was presented with a bejewelled sword. It was hard to decide whether his teeth or the jewels on the sword sparkled more.
    ‘Moolchand Chowdhary, the chief of the village Faizabagh, please step forward,’ Musa-ud-Daula announced. An elderly villager stepped forward and bowed low before the king.
    ‘Prince Salim, I would like you to step forward as well,’ said Abba Huzoor.
    Salim was puzzled. He had never seen this old man before. Nevertheless, he stepped forward.
    ‘Tell the prince your problem,’ said Abba Huzoor.
    ‘My Lord,’ Moolchand began. Then he looked at Salim and joined his hands. ‘My son, we have been ruined. My village has been destroyed …’ he faltered and wiped his brow with his sleeve. ‘Save us, my son, save us.’
    Perplexed, and with a slight irritation in his voice, Salim replied, ‘Yes, I’ll do my best to help you. But tell me clearly what your problem is.’
    ‘It’s that tigress. Earlier she