Transformation Story: Darpana - Part 2

Darpana

Part 2

Meena sat reading while Lakshmi wrote a letter.  She had now completed the entirety of the Kama Sutra.  That even included the seventh volume which showed her some of the ways Lakshmi had used to craft from whatever she had been before into what she was now – Meena, a courtesan of Ferraghur.  There had been a life before here, but Meena was uncertain about it and, daily, more details faded.  At most they felt as if they had been in a dream.  If being at this court was so perfect for her, she found it difficult to consider any other existence.

Meena was proud of her knowledge.  With the aid of Shresth, one of the young men who played instruments, Meena had lost her virginity as directed by Lakshmi, but she knew that it was nothing important.  What mattered was her skill in making love and the young man had been more than happy to be her partner for practice as she had, for example, distinguished the art of the Mare’s Trick from the Samdamsha position.  There was a real strength inside her now, sufficient to bring a man immediately to climax or hold him on the edge for as long as she chose.

Esha bustled into her mistress’s chamber.

“My lady, you may be interested to hear that Sahib Yash is in the court room.”

“Thank you, Esha.”  Lakshmi set aside her pen and stood quickly.   “Meena come, I think you will benefit from seeing Yash.”

Though she knew much of the palace now, Lakshmi was soon leading Meena up an unfamiliar set of stairs and the two women emerged into a gallery overlooking the throne room.  They were concealed behind fretted wooden panelling but had a good view of what was going on below.  A man, probably eight or ten years older than Meena, was striding around.  He was dressed for riding and from the dust about him, she imagined he had come some distance to be here.

“That is Yash.  He is a nephew of the Rajah; his sister’s youngest son.”  Lakshmi explained softly.  “She was a lover of peace, but this young man has become a warrior, an adventurer.  His father is Nawab of Malgudi, so he has influence and maybe a little too much freedom.”

“… the siege of Kanthapura has been lifted by Company and Queen’s troops.”

“The ‘mutiny’ is at an end?”

“No, uncle.  However, in this part of India, the British are gaining the upper hand; reasserting their control.”

Meena wondered what impact that would have.  She found that she was a little worried that it would mean her time here was going to be brought to an end.  She chased off those thoughts and instead focused on Yash.  There was a vibrancy about him that she found she liked and unbidden thoughts of him filling the role in the sexual positions she had been reading about that morning came into her mind.

“I have heard there are rumours … that an Englishwoman came here; after the storm.”

“Why?”  The Rajah asked.

In that moment Meena realised that the old man was more astute than his amiable behaviour in front of her revealed.

“What have you done?”  The Rajah pressed sitting up on his banquette; he shot a glance at Major Luzzato.

“Me, my riders, well … we helped scout; prevent escapees from Kanthapura.  We were going to move on to Lankhmar.”

“And you have come here for safety?”

“It is nearer than Malgudi.”  Luzzato noted.

“Yes, and Ferraghur will never fall.”  Yash added.

“I have no desire to put that to the test.”  The Rajah said wearily.  “We faced a British assault many years ago, before you were born.  I will not repeat that.”

“Well, let me take this woman as my hostage.  I will not mistreat her.  It just might buy me safe passage back to my father’s palace.”  Yash suggested.

“One woman has come here in recent months.  You can see her.  I think you might like her.  She has been under Lakshmi’s tutelage.  She has worked her magic on her and now she might be ready to spread her wings; perhaps to Malgudi.  She would need to be assured of an unadventurous life.”

To Meena it sounded as if the uncle was trying to persuade the nephew to see the error of his ways and adopt the manner of life that she knew he enjoyed at Ferraghur.

“Are you hiding something?”  Yash asked but not sharply.

“No – ask the staff if you like.  Ask who is the only newcomer to Ferraghur in the past few months.  Otherwise, simply see her; have her dance for you.”

“A British officer’s daughter dance for me?  Have you seen how they dance?”

The Rajah held up his finger.  “Yes, but I said, she has been with Lakshmi and you know she has special skills.”

“I have heard tales …”

“Well you should believe them.”

The Rajah looked up to the gallery and while she imagined he could not see her and Lakshmi, it was clear to Meena he knew or at least had guessed that they were there.

“Offer to dance for Yash.”  Lakshmi encouraged.  “With your skills now, I am sure that he will never imagine that you could ever be the Englishwoman he thinks you might be.  That will mean you will be safe.”

“Yes, yes, let us go.  I like the look of him, anyway.  I would like to get to know him better.”  Meena said saucily.

“I am pleased.  I think my lessons are coming to an end.  It is probably time for a new phase in your life and maybe that will be in Malgudi.”

The two women hurried down the stairs and soon came into the throne room.  Lakshmi sent a servant off to summon a few of the musicians.

“Here she is.”  The Rajah said pleasurably.

Yash was now seated to one side and was drinking.  As Meena entered, she was pleased to note that immediately she had caught the man’s eye.  Dressed in her vibrant red choti and gagra, with her loveliest jewellery in place, she found she was delighted to be viewed this way.  She tried to push aside the returning images of Yash as the man in the Kama Sutra’s various positions.

“This is Meena.  Meena, this is my nephew, Yash.  He would like it if you would dance for him.”

Yash listened interestedly as his uncle spoke in Hindi.  He was running his eyes over Meena and she enjoyed the attention.

“Yes, your Majesty.  I will be very pleased to do so.

The musicians arrived and soon Meena was doing a solo dance, not as fast as what she had performed with the other three, but still with a popular rather than classical feel to it.  Yash appeared to enjoy it.  As she came to an end, Yash applauded.

“Very well done.  That teaches me to listen to rumours.”  Yash joked.

There was certainly something lively in Yash that Meena found exciting.  She could imagine him riding at speed and the tight breeches and riding boots he wore showed her how lithe his body was.

“Meena said she was interested in getting to know your better, my lord.”  Now Lakshmi came and stood beside her.  “She is a trained courtesan.  Would it please you to have her attend on you?”

“Yes, yes it would.”

Meena felt pleased with that and even felt her dark tan skin heat at the thought.

“I have rooms set aside for you, Yash.  Why not bathe and Meena will come to you.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He seemed to have forgotten entirely about any Englishwoman or a hostage and Meena felt she had fulfilled her role very well.  She returned to Lakshmi’s chambers where they kohled her eyes and scented her.  Her gagra and choti were shed; in their place they wrapped the dupatta she had first seen Lakshmi wear, the day it had been decided Meena would become a courtesan.  Then Esha came to fetch Meena.  Lakshmi kissed both her cheeks and Meena was led to the chambers close to the Rajah’s own, large rooms she had not visited before.  Yash was naked bar a long dark blue robe out of which his lavde was already protruding.  Meena knew she was already wet and certainly eager to be riding it.

“Who needs an Englishwoman when I have a Maratha beauty like you?”  Yash said grinning.

Sensuously Meena made her way towards Yash slowly letting the dupatta slip from her olive-skinned body, using her long black hair as a cover over her breasts to tease.  She felt she was bringing her readings to life and even more than with Shreshth she was fulfilling her role; showing off all of her skills to a man who could appreciate them.  Meena mounted the bed and turned her back to Yash, sliding her sodden yonee on to his hard, large lavde.  As she had read and practiced she trapped it, toying with her bhaganasa, her chunni as she now thought of it; these days it awoke so soon.  At times, she would lean forward and grasp Yash’s ankles, moving her body deftly from the Mare’s to the Bull’s position.  His hands rambled across hers, cupping her breasts with their dark areolae and running across her smooth walnut shade skin.

As she heard grunts and moans from Yash, Meena felt that she had won him, that he would leave here with her and she would become his courtesan.  A sense of satisfaction; of fulfilment, coursed through her and Meena struggled not to climax too early, but to keep sustaining the pleasure until her Yash begged for release.  By rippling her yonee muscles she delivered it to him and he jerked and rocked as he fired his juice.  Some strokes of her chunni and Meena joined him, feeling that she had passed her final test and that the next phase of her life lay before her.  She slid from his body and lay beside him as he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her with clear delight.

****

It seemed to have taken an entire day to pack Meena’s clothes, jewellery and books.  Yash had ridden ahead to Malgudi.  While it seemed unlikely that either the mutineers or the British would hold up the palanquin of a courtesan, he had left a small detachment of riders to accompany her.  The ox cart with her belongings had already set off and she now walked from her Ferraghur chambers for the last time.  Lakshmi had come to her room and had painted designs in henna on her hands and feet.  Meena was not a bride, but as Lakshmi pointed out she was now leaving her home to be established in a new one.  Meena loved the reddy brown colouring against the background of her own skin, the matching shade of Lakshmi’s.  Lakshmi led her at last to the palanquin in the forward courtyard.  She hugged and kissed Meena and wished her well.  As the door of the palanquin was slid closed and Meena was lifted aloft, she heard Laskshmi’s voice singing in that sonorous way; as if casting one last spell.  The secrets she had revealed to Meena had shown she was truly the witch that some had named her.

As the sound came from Lakshmi, the henna designs on Meena’s hands and feet looked to be alive, as if they were being written afresh.  Meena watched them, entranced, feeling somehow that her story was being rewritten.  She shook her head, her long black hair being tossed back and forth.  She was being foolish.  She was Meena, raised in Ferraghur to be a courtesan and now she would serve Yash.  She was lucky, he was such a strong and handsome man.  She was certain she could make him very happy.

Soon Meena was through Ferraghur’s gates and down on the plains.  Lakshmi had made sure she had been well provided with refreshment for the journey, but progress was slow and Meena let herself doze.  She awoke when the soothing motion of the palanquin ceased.  She spied out through a vent in the palanquin’s panelling and saw the red of British soldiers.  Then she heard the commander of Yash’s cavalry speaking to the British officer in that pidgin mix of English and Hindi they used.  Meena found she could understand more of what the officer, she somehow knew he was a lieutenant, was saying.

“… an Englishwoman, Miss Wilhelmina Deering.  Her father is Colonel Deering.”

The names meant nothing to her and sounded strange.  She could not recall when she had seen an Englishwoman; certainly not at Ferraghur.  The wind or the turn of a horse meant she could not hear what followed until some moments later.

“No, we shall search this palanquin.”  The British officer insisted.

Meena leant forward and slid back the door.

“Sir.”  She called in her best English.

It took a moment for the lieutenant to recognise he was being addressed.  He moved his horse in closer and saluted.

“Madam.”

“Sir … lieutenant.”  Meena struggled to find the right English words.  “I am only … in here only.”

The officer bent a little to look into the darkness of the palanquin but then looked satisfied.  For some moments he gazed at Meena’s face as if trying to see something deep within it.

“From Ferraghur … to Malgudi.”  Meena persisted.

“Yes, my dear, I understand.”  He saluted.

The lieutenant rode over to the daffadar with three stripes on his arm and Meena wondered why he had not been asked to question this party.  Perhaps where an Englishwoman was concerned it was felt only an Englishman could be trusted to get it right.

“That’s no Company colonel’s daughter even one they’d tried to disguise.  This is just some wealthy betee from Ferraghur; a lady of the bedchamber, I’d imagine, though they all come kitted out in so much silk and gold you couldn’t tell.”

“Lieutenant Carter, sir, she’ll be a lady of the Rajah of Ferraghur’s court.”  The Indian sergeant explained.

“Point taken, Daffadar.  He’s been no trouble, though I hear his nephew’s been seen about.”

The lieutenant turned back to face Meena and saluted.

“On your way.”  The officer called though not harshly.

Meena slid the panel closed and the palanquin resumed its swaying passage forward.  She wondered if these soldiers would find the woman they were seeking.  However, quickly Meena found she rather preferred to think that she was carried off by some dashing mountain bandit and had remained his lover.  Then again, Meena told herself, courtesans were always seeking an erotic outcome to every story.