In the City of Gold and Silver Read Free

reputation as the city’s finest
topi
1 14 embroiderer. His topis were said to be so perfect, they would fit the head of the person they were made for exactly, but if anyone else tried wearing them, they would end up with an unbearable headache!
    One day, when the embroiderer was working on a topi for the crown prince, Muhammadi could not resist the temptation. As soon as her uncle left the room, she placed the midnight blue silk marvel, dotted with a constellation of tiny diamonds, on her head. She was stunned by the image she saw reflected in the mirror—a ravishing princess was looking back at her. Regretfully, she laid the topi back on the table. Just in time! Her uncle had come to fetch the hat, which was to be delivered immediately.
    The next day, their peaceful lane resounded with raucous cries:
    â€œWhere is that rascal of an embroiderer? Beat him up!”
    Terrified, the embroiderer had escaped through the backyard while his trembling wife opened the door. Before her stood a huge black eunuch accompanied by two guards. He held out the topi.
    â€œWhere is your husband?”
    â€œHe has gone out . . . ”
    After signalling to the guards to search the house, the eunuch continued in a threatening tone:
    â€œWho dared to wear the crown prince’s topi?”
    â€œBut nobody would ever dare . . . ”
    â€œThen how do you explain this?” the eunuch shook the hat, revealing a strand of long black hair inside, and threw it on the ground.
    Meanwhile, the guards had returned, pushing a terrified Muhammadi before them.
    â€œWe didn’t find the embroiderer, but this girl was hiding in the back room!”
    The eunuch looked her over carefully and, softening, he asked:
    â€œWho is she?”
    â€œAn orphaned niece we took in,” the embroiderer’s wife hurried to answer, grateful for the diversion.
    â€œIs she married?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    The eunuch had nodded his head.  
    â€œWell, this time your husband is safe, as my prince is indulgent and abhors violence. But if it ever happens again, tell him I will deal with him personally and he will regret the day he was born!”
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    A few days later, two women had come to the embroiderer’s home. Under their black burqas they were wearing brightly coloured
gararas
15 and their faces were heavily made-up. The embroiderer’s wife had immediately recognised them: they were Amman and Imaman, former courtesans who groomed beautiful girls for aristocratic harems. They taught them etiquette, dance and other arts, the most accomplished girls being destined for the royal palace.
    The matter was quickly settled. All the more so, as overcome with guilt, Muhammadi had admitted her mistake and her aunt, who had never liked her, no longer had any scruples about getting rid of her. Luckily, her husband, who may have been moved by his niece’s tears, was away. Amazed and delighted with the purse the two women had slipped into her hands—so much money for this scrawny girl!—she had tried to warn them about her difficult nature, but Amman and Imaman were no longer listening. They covered Muhammadi with a burqa and pushed her into the waiting
palanquin
.
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    Muhammadi did not cry for long. The world she entered was fascinating. Amman and Imaman’s large house was in the centre of the
Chowk
, the main bazaar in the old town, with its stalls selling kebabs and other tasty treats, its innumerable artisans, famous jewellers, shoemakers, perfumers and amazingly delicate
chikan
16 work embroiderers, famous throughout India. All of this, steeped in the fragrance of spices and jasmine. Behind the openwork balconies above the stalls, one could catch fleeting glimpses of prostitutes dressed in colourful silks, chewing
paan
17 as they watched the hesitant men lingering below.
    However, the Chowk’s real fame lay in the fact that it was the courtesans’ district. In Lucknow, courtesans enjoy a