Beneath a Marble Sky (40 page)

As Shivaji had foretold, the trail forked northward. We veered right and, inspired by the knowledge that our goal was so close, soon rushed ahead. We galloped until even my thighs burned, and I knew that Isa and Arjumand must hurt terribly. Yet they asked for no respite. We thundered forward, passing immense dunes of sand, coconut trees, and men building racks to dry fish. We then crossed a shallow river.

White birds wheeled overhead. Nizam called them gulls and I thought them an auspicious sight. They were vocal creatures, chattering like women in the harem. The trail, now completely sand, turned again to the west, rising over a series of dunes.

And there sprawled the sea!

It stretched out like a sheet of indigo silk, impossibly grand in its dimensions. Not even the endless deserts of Hindustan appeared so infinite. The sea merged somewhere distant with the sky, but where water and air met I couldn’t discern. There was simply a gradual lightening of blue.

As we drew nearer I could see waves, capped with froth, lumbering toward the coast. Boats drifted out on that blue vastness, minuscule swathes of brown with white sail. How deep the water must be beneath them! What denizens must thrive below their vessels! I’d heard of sharks and whales, but to think of them swimming out there made me shiver with dread and awe.

Nizam led us down a sandy slope. A stone’s toss to our right ran a slew of thatched huts that looked empty. But I disregarded these dwellings. My horse had made it to the beach and even he seemed excited. He snorted more loudly than usual, his neighs mingling with our shouts. Nizam’s mount charged along the water’s edge and we followed his deep tracks. Wind-whipped spray flew against me. I tasted salt on my lips. I felt like a child then, for surely the sea was one of Allah’s most wondrous creations.

We dashed along this border of sea and land, long and curved like a crescent moon and just as gleaming. My troubles washed away in the cleansing water and I felt free. For the moment, the outside world was unborn. Only this slice of sand in all its majesty existed. Nizam left the water, galloping a short way up the bank toward a palm tree. He dismounted as a warrior might, launching himself up and out of his saddle. After tying his horse to the tree, he helped Arjumand off her mare.

I had lived all my life under the conservative, stifling rules of others. Today I did not. And so I kicked off my sandals and pulled up my trousers. I hadn’t run, truly run, in years. But I ran now, and it was glorious! Isa dashed beside me—his strides long and his laughter priceless. He begged me to catch him as he hurried into the water. I tried, shrieking as it rose above my ankles, then calves, then thighs. A wave slapped at me and I was suddenly underwater. Springing to the surface, I licked the salty foam from my lips, disbelieving the strength of its taste.

Arjumand and Nizam caught us, and the two women in Isa’s life splashed him until he begged us to stop. Next, we assailed each other. The sea was up to my chest, and when waves rose about me, I experienced an unfamiliar sensation of weightlessness. I could almost float and felt like a toy that the sea merrily tossed about. I let it lift and drop me, grinning in amazement as each swell rolled forth to carry me skyward.

I wondered then why children played so in the river, but adults ceased to see it with the same eyes. Why couldn’t we embrace such simple joys? Yes, pondering the problems before us was fine and noble, as was gaining wisdom, but must our physical sensations, our joy, wither in the process?

A bigger wave, a mountain among these hills, came at us then. It swept us up, and suddenly I was driven toward shore. I shrieked as the wave collapsed and I dropped heavily on the sand. Though the blow stung my hands and I coughed up seawater, I found myself laughing.

“Behind you!” Isa yelled, and I turned in time to see another wave rolling toward me. It struck me down hard. I tumbled underwater, not knowing up from down from sideways. When I thought my lungs might burst, I was finally able to kneel on the sand. Despite being a strong swimmer, I was suddenly unsure of myself, so unaccustomed to these waves. Where should one stand or swim?

“Come here!” Isa shouted from deeper water.

I waded through the receding sea until I reached him. Not bothering to ask, I jumped on his back and he held me somewhat out of the wetness. “They’re strong!” I exclaimed, as Isa leapt up when another wave arrived.

“You have to jump,” he replied, his crooked smile quite boyish.

“Easy for you to say! Your legs are as tall as trees!”

Arjumand crept behind her old mother, and when a wave lifted us, climbed up my back. The wave dropped and suddenly Isa stood with two women atop him. He staggered for a heartbeat, then we toppled backward.

“Isssssssssa!”

The sea engulfed my voice, and another wave threw me closer to shore. My tunic felt increasingly heavy, and though still euphoric, I was prudent enough to wade to shallower water. When it only lapped at my knees I sat down, watching contentedly as Isa tossed Arjumand into the waves and Nizam swam far out in the blue. I asked Allah if such seas existed in Paradise, and when He offered no answer, I concluded that they must. For how could Paradise be complete without them?

History books claimed that Europeans crossed boundless seas to reach Hindustan, and I shook my head in disbelief, impressed by such deeds. If Ladli were right, I thought, and we do lead many lives, perhaps in my next life I’ll be an explorer. I could name islands after my loved ones and maybe even a speck of land after myself. And why shouldn’t I? After all, the finest explorers always honored themselves.

But such adventures could wait, I decided gladly, for I had many more years to live in this body. I had a daughter for whom I must find a man, and a man I must hoard for myself. “Stop!” I muttered, for already I was plotting anew.

“Come in, Mother!” Arjumand shouted.

I shook my head but was warmed by her words. Any man would be lucky to have her. And though my mother was nearly perfect, and above criticism, unlike her, I’d ensure that my daughter married a loving man. It didn’t matter if he resembled a slug or a gold coin. As long as he treated her with decency, I’d help her catch him.

“I cherish you, my child,” I whispered.

The day was mostly done when we finally left the sea. As Nizam and Arjumand gathered our horses, Isa and I shuffled to the bungalows. We must have made an odd sight, but the owner seemed a kind man and welcomed us. We rented three rooms, and he asked that we share his supper. Naturally, we accepted.

His wife, a homely woman stooped over from a lifetime of mending nets, cooked us the strangest meal I’d ever encountered. She served thick soup brimming with curved creatures called shrimp and many-armed things known as squid. I half-expected them to start swimming in my broth!

We had brought some wine from Bijapur, which we shared with our hosts. Though the Qur’an was our Holy Book, and its words were my guides, the forbiddance of wine was something I couldn’t condone. For how it loosened tongues and enlivened conversation. Soon we were laughing and talking with these strangers as if they were childhood companions.

When all the strange little creatures were safely in our stomachs and the night and sea were black, we parted company and drifted to our rooms. In bed, I held Isa close. And his touch, which I’d dreamed about for so long, was achingly real.

The next three
days were spent thus. We rode or took long walks on the beach. We laughed, chatted, even argued. One afternoon we saw monstrous leaping fish our host called dolphins. We sprang into the sea to chase them, and they didn’t flee but swam about us in dizzying circles.

We made many such discoveries while collecting spiral shells, chasing crabs and building cities in the sand. At one point, Nizam, who we thought had been napping, showed us a replica of the Taj Mahal that he’d crafted. Even if his minarets kept falling, the mausoleum itself was well proportioned and to our liking. Nizam was an easy man to read, and I was pleased for his pride. I knew that working on the Taj Mahal was his life’s grandest chapter. Anyone could fight or serve, but to shape stone into such beauty was an accomplishment worth remembering.

Our host carried us out each afternoon on his fishing boat, and we learned to set traps and throw nets. Isa took a surprising liking to this process. Though he couldn’t cast the nets as far as Nizam, his throws were better placed, falling on schools of fish that devoured bread we had discarded. The fish he hauled in were long or fat, brown or spotted with color. Some we ate for dinner. Others we threw back.

After returning from the sea, we swam at dusk, for dusk was when the waters receded and lessened in ferocity. Arjumand and I shed our robes, and wearing shirts and breeches intended for boys, we frolicked like sisters. As we swam, she told me of her building, in which she found great joy, and I spoke of Agra and her grandfather.

It amazed me to see what a convergence she was between Isa and me. Not only did her looks reflect our merging, but so did her temperament. She had a clever mind, which I believed she inherited from us both. Moreover, she was feisty like me, and she also possessed Isa’s youthful enthusiasm. This relentless good nature bound them strongly, and I knew, without remorse, that they’d forever be closer than she and I.

None of us spoke about our looming departure. Only the present moment mattered, and we endeavored to enjoy it to the fullest. We lived fiercely—laughing until our stomachs hurt, swimming until our arms were leaden weights.

Naturally, our last night was different. After drinking the remainder of our wine, the four of us made a fire on the beach. We spoke little and stared listlessly into the flames. Though we couldn’t see the waves, their crashing seemed louder than hitherto, and I found myself realizing how much I’d miss them.

“We’ll have to return to the sea,” I said. No one answered, and so I added, “Two years isn’t so long. Build it hard and build it safely. When my brother is dead we’ll meet in Delhi.”

Arjumand flicked a stick into the fire. “You make it sound so easy,” she said harshly. “But what if your precious plan doesn’t work? What if the Sultan betrays us?”

“He won’t, my child.”

“But what if he does? Will you abandon us for Grandfather again?”

I paused at these words, for I hadn’t known Arjumand harbored such resentment, though I could hardly blame her. Hating to see her so upset, I asked her to see the situation from my point of view. “What would you do, Arjumand, if your father were dying? Would you leave him and flee, or stay and make him well?” I stared at her, but she avoided my gaze. “Do you believe a single night passed in that awful cell when I didn’t think about you?”

Isa cleared his throat. “It was hard, Arjumand, for all of us. But what your mother did was right. You’ll understand that someday.”

“And now that I’m a child, I can’t?”

“You’re no child.”

“Yet you treat me as such!”

“Quite the contrary,” I interjected. “Your strength allowed me to stay behind. If you were a weak girl, I’d have been forced to leave my father and brother. And though my leaving might have served you, it would have been at their expense. Dara died less terrified because I was at his side. And Father I nursed back to health because I hadn’t fled south. So your strength, Arjumand, was a gift to me, and to them.”

“Do the strong…cry every night for a month?” she asked softly.

“When they need to,” I countered, clasping her hand. “Women, Arjumand, women are taught that there’s no strength in our tears. But why are tears powerless, if those tears lead to insight, or a sense of peace?”

“But I don’t want you to go, Mother. What if—”

“Your father kept his promise to you, didn’t he? The promise that I lived. And so I shall keep this promise, the promise that we’ll be together within two years.”

“We must be.”

“I know, my child,” I replied, stroking her arm. Nizam carefully placed a log in the fire, and I wondered where his thoughts lay. “I’m proud of you, Arjumand, for you’re strong. And yet, you’re also free.” I saw her eyes flicker away and I squeezed her elbow. “People, both foes and friends, will try to take this freedom. But never, ever, let them have it.”

“I’ll miss you,” Arjumand said, hugging me. “Be careful in Agra. Your brother won’t be happy that you escaped.”

I did my best to seem unruffled. “Aurangzeb’s like a wasp with no stinger.”

“Perhaps he may find it.”

“I’ve been stung before. And I suspect your old mother will be stung again.” I kissed her forehead. “It’s late, my child, and we have a long, long day of riding tomorrow. Will you rest?”

Arjumand said good night and Nizam accompanied her to the huts. Isa moved next to me, kissing my ear. “Your brother, Swallow, is far more dangerous than any insect. And he hasn’t lost his stinger.”

“But he won’t find me.”

“But why, why must you even return to Agra?” he asked. “It would be safer to live in Delhi or Lahore. Visit your sisters in Delhi. Surely you’d enjoy their company.”

“I would.”

“Then go to them.”

I thought of my little sisters, wishing life hadn’t thrust us so far apart. “Our last word of them was that both were recently wed. Thus I can’t intrude upon their lives with their new families. Not now, at least.”