Transformation Story: Darpana - Part 1

Hindi words and slang used in this story

bhaganasa - clitoris

betee – daughter, but used derogatively by outsiders

choli – tight ladies top, leaving midriff bare

chotli - jewel wound into a hair plait

chunni – clit

daffadar – mounted Indian sergeant in the British forces

darpana – mirror

darsildo - dildo

dupatta – long pashmina like scarf

gagra – long skirt often embroidered

laung - jewelled nose stud

lavde - cock

oddiyanam - tight metal belt worn by ladies

tikka - diadem jewel worn on the hairline, resting on the forehead

yonee - pussy

Finest flower/cloven inlet – British Victorian terms for pussy

Darpana

Part 1

India, 1857

Wilhelmina Deering looked out once more from the carriage.  With its heavy black clouds, the sky above was still threatening.  The air had that irritating feel that came before a storm and Wilhelmina wished that it would break.  At least it would spare her from the heat and from the dust which appeared able to penetrate wherever it chose.  Then again, she reflected, the rains no doubt would wash away the road and make progress hazardous.  She wondered how long it would be until the first overnight stop.  She now wished she had paid more attention to her father’s instructions.

When her father, Colonel Josiah Deering had first been assigned by the Company to this part of the country, Wilhelmina had not been averse to living at his residence ‘up country’.  The cities they had passed through had seemed so noisy and with a noxious smell of one kind or another around every corner.  However, not only had Wilhelmina found herself deprived of all but occasional European company, but now that this ‘mutiny’ was breaking out among the Sepoys, she appeared to be at greater risk than if she could have retreated into the fort of even a smallish town.  Naturally it had been thought best to get Wilhelmina away to safety first; to Company friends of her father’s based in Kanthapura.  Servants would follow on with the range of household items and other possessions that her widowed father was loath to leave to the risk that they would be stolen.  Her father, of course, would have to wait for orders from Bombay before he could move.  Most likely it seemed that he would be ordered somewhere to put down an uprising or simply to keep the peace.

Across from her in the carriage sat Wilhelmina’s ayah, Pari.  While Wilhelmina was too old for tutors any more, her father had kept the old Indian woman who had once served as his daughter’s nanny, as a readily available chaperone.  Not that Wilhelmina had much opportunity for mixing with unattached young men.  There was Lieutenant Richard Carter that she had taken a shine to.  However, any opportunity to socialise with him would have to wait now until the situation settled and he returned from whatever duty her father commanded him to carry out.

****

Wilhelmina seemed to have been lulled asleep by the heat and the motion of the carriage.  However, now, abruptly, she woke up.  Quickly she looked around her wondering what had disturbed her and then out of the window.

“Ferraghur.”  Pari said cryptically.

“Sorry Pari?”  Wilhelmina asked, wondering if the elderly lady was still half asleep herself.

“Ferraghur.”  The Indian woman repeated but this time turned to point out of the window.

Now Wilhelmina realised that she had been too focused on the sky to see what they were approaching on the ground.  Ahead she could see a structure, a series of red stone buildings appearing to be growing vertically from the living rock; its walls the same shade as the escarpment it stood upon.  It dominated the landscape right around.  As they slowly moved closer to it, Wilhelmina wondered how it might be accessed.  She pondered who might live there.  India seemed to have a ruler every ten miles or so.  Was it a fortress or a palace?  Wilhelmina felt her mind wandering and thinking that this easily looked like something from a fairy story or one of the countries Lemuel Gulliver could have visited.  She envisaged that up there, some wizened alchemist was trying to squeeze sunlight from cucumbers.

A rumble and a crack demanded Wilhelmina’s attention and she turned to look the other way; back to the clouds.  The storm had begun.  How far away was it?  A few miles, it seemed.  The clouds looked to be rolling quickly towards them and with that speed she imagined that in less than an hour the rain would be upon them.  She could sense that the horses were skittish, but the driver whipped them to greater speed.  Wilhelmina imagined he was hoping to out run the storm or, at least, get them into the cover of a rock face rather than out here exposed.

The storm caught them in less than half-an-hour.  Looking at Ferraghur, it seemed to Wilhelmina that they had made very little progress in that time, though rationally she told herself it was because the plain was so wide and the outcrop so high.  The windows were already closed on the carriage even though it made it so stuffy inside.  Now she pulled down the blinds as if that would further protect them.  The flashes of lightning still were still apparent all the same.  The carriage was buffeted and Wilhelmina was uncertain how much that was from the wind and how much from the driver still trying to get to wherever he felt they would be safe.

Pari was muttering something in her own language.  Wilhelmina went over to her and pressed herself against her side like a calf with a cow and just how she had behaved when she had been frightened as girl.  The scent of the old woman, some fragrance and the spiciness of the food she favoured, provided a reassurance to Wilhelmina.  Still, she kept her eyes closed tight but sought to ride out whatever jolts came to the carriage.  Abruptly, however, it was as if the world had been disrupted.  The squeal of distressed horses sounded clearly and the shouts of the driver and the boy who rode with him came even above the noise of the storm.  The carriage wobbled and everything slid to one side.  Pari grasped the window frame tightly, but Wilhelmina, half in a doze, slipped moments before the carriage crashed down.  Wilhelmina was thrown into the side of the carriage and then, as she tried to get up, something heavy crashed down, hitting her head and taking her into darkness.

****

Wilhelmina was conscious of light and softness.  A gentle breeze disturbed long but light curtains.  For a moment she wondered if she was in Heaven; whether she would see her grandparents here.  However, she was soon conscious of the soreness of her head.  The light, she was sure, was the light of India and as she became more conscious, the heat was familiar too.  She was sure Heaven was like a Somerset manor house with a lush garden with almost permanent parties and fine balls whenever night fell.  It was not going to resemble anywhere in central India.

As Wilhelmina sat up she saw that she was in a fine bed with light cotton sheets and even a silk counterpane.  This was no village headman’s house.  She felt sure she must be in that red castle-palace of Ferraghur and under the protection of whatever great man resided there.  It seemed likely that in the current dispute he was loyal to the British otherwise she would have imagined herself killed where she was found or at best shackled in the dungeons which she sure lay beneath her, carved out of the red rock.

“You are awake.”

Wilhelmina felt startled for a moment.  Then a tall, slender Indian woman walked in from the side.  Most local women Wilhelmina had seen were elderly or young serving girls.  Others she had passed had largely been peasants, prematurely aged by the burdens of work.  This woman was none of those things.  Perhaps she was in her thirties, maybe older.  She certainly had an elegance about her, perhaps even a nobility.  Her skin was the dark tan shade typical of the country; her hair was long and glossy black; her eyes a deep horse chestnut brown.  Her face was long, a narrow oval, with strong straight features that seemed in just the right balance for beauty.  Her neck was long but echoed her slender arms, body and legs.

Wilhelmina wondered if this was a princess or a noblewoman, perhaps some functionary of whoever ruled here.  Her clothes certainly spoke of wealth.  She was dressed in a rose pink dress, but then Wilhelmina saw that it was in two parts- a tight fitting top which ceased beneath her bust leaving her midriff bare and then a long skirt, but held tight to her by a broad metal belt at her hips.  A chiffon green drape hung from her shoulder, and was tucked into the belt.  Jewellery was all around her, from the gold stud in her nose, to the heavy earrings, to the long necklace of pearls and gold to the bangles on each wrist.  As she moved it was with the shimmer of sound of delicate metal.  In contrast the white cotton shift that Wilhelmina wore seemed dowdy.

The woman sat on the end of Wilhelmina’s bed and gave a wonderful smile that the English woman felt chased away all concerns.

“I am Lakshmi.”  The woman said.

“I am Wilhelmina, Wilhelmina Deering.  My father is Colonel Josiah Deering.”  Wilhelmina responded as if reciting it was some kind of protection.

“I could see that you were a fine lady.”  Lakshmi responded.  “Have no worries, you are at Ferraghur, a guest of the Rajah.  He has assigned me to look after you.  As you can imagine with all the current … incidents, he is a busy man.”

“How long have I been here?”

“You were not conscious for some days.  The Rajah’s doctor tended you, but he said you’d probably wake today.”

“And Pari, the driver, his boy?”

“They are fine.  Some cuts, some bruises, but nothing serious.  The Rajah’s men righted your carriage and they headed back to your father, to tell him you are here.”

Wilhelmina felt rather abandoned in a place where she now knew no-one.  She worried to that once she had left, her father had been ordered to move on to wherever he was needed to combat the rebels and Pari would not be able to find him.  She supposed it was better than him simply hearing rumours of what had befallen the carriage.  It was certainly better than her waking up facing down in red mud in the middle of the plain.

“You feel well enough to get up?  To eat?”

Wilhelmina surveyed her body.  Even the soreness of her head seemed to have faded.

“Yes, yes, I do.”

“Good.  First, I think you need a bath.  One is being drawn for you.”

Lakshmi gestured through the door to a room with a smooth stone floor.  There Wilhelmina could see two servant women pouring hot water into a very large tin bath.  This looked like something delightful.  Pulling back the light sheets, Wilhelmina climbed from bed.

“There are slippers.”  Lakshmi held up a pair of light silk slippers in a light blue colour.

For a moment Wilhelmina thought of taking them, but saw Lakshmi herself had bare feet, draped just with silver jewellery.  There seemed no point if she was just going to take them off for the bath.  As Wilhelmina stood for an instant she thought she saw an Indian woman of the same age as her coming towards her.  Like Lakshmi she was dressed in fine silk clothes and wearing a wealth of jewellery.  Though she was so alien to Wilhelmina, she seemed very alluring, her tan shade body and sleek black hair so beautifully shown in what she wore.  English women, of course, kept their bodies concealed beneath reams of clothing; their hair often bound up tight.  However, perhaps here, this more relaxed, indeed this more exposed style, was appropriate.

Wilhelmina glanced to Lakshmi who was smiling; she expected to be introduced to the newcomer.  However, when Wilhelmina looked back the young woman was gone and she realised all she could see now was her own reflection; looking a little hot and weary.  Had she hallucinated?  Had the blow to her head caused problems?  The mirror was long, slender and ornate; Wilhemina wondered if it was a treasure of the palace.

“Don’t worry.”  Lakshmi said warmly, taking Wilhelmina’s hand.  “That is a special mirror, the Mirror of Abhilasha.  I guess it was how it was made, how it catches the light.  However, people say you can see magic things in it.  Then again, some say that I am a witch rather than just a courtesan.”

Wilhelmina glanced to Lakshmi but she smiled to show it was a joke.  There was something about this woman’s manner that Wilhelmina found attractive.  It was a little as if she was mischievous.  Not malicious, just someone who enjoyed her life and deriving humour or maybe just simple delight from it.

“Come, bathe before the water cools too much.”

Wilhelmina let herself be led to the bathroom and yielded as Lakshmi took off the white dress.  The Englishwoman felt a little self-conscious.  After all she had only known this woman a few minutes.  Then she told herself to simply behave in front of Lakshmi as she might in front of a host’s servants if she went to stay at the house of another Company commander or official.

The bath certainly felt good.  Various herbs floated in the water and Wilhelmina felt herself drifting away.  Lakshmi sat close by and very softly began to sing in her own language.  Though she could not comprehend the words, Wilhelmina found the sounds rather hypnotic.  Then Lakshmi, unbidden, was washing her hair.  Wilhelmina felt that she should be uncomfortable perhaps even embarrassed.  However, the bath had relaxed her so much and she realised that she felt safe in Lakshmi’s care so that she made no protest and simply let it all be done to her.

Wilhelmina did not know how long she had been in the bath when Lakshmi spoke again.

“Come it is time to have you dress; to show you the palace.”

A serving woman appeared with towels and as Wilhelmina stood, she was wrapped in them.  She dried herself while Lakshmi stood to one side.  Wilhelmina wondered what had been in the bath because her skin felt so soft.  It also looked less pale than she was used to.  She wondered if, despite the encompassing dresses and bonnets she wore, the sunlight had begun colouring her.  She thought of it reddening skin rather than browning it, but then thought that logically, perhaps that explained why Indians had that skin tone.  Anyway, once she was back in England she was sure it would all fade.  Looking around the bedroom as she entered she saw the mirror had gone or perhaps it just seemed different from when she had seen it before.

Catching sight of herself reflected, Wilhelmina asked suddenly realised she needed to dress.  “Where are my clothes?”  She kept the towels tight around her.  Though there were only women here, she felt herself very exposed once more.

“They were filthy; there were tears; there was no point in dressing back in those now you are so clean.”  Lakshmi said with her usual sweet smile.

Wilhelmina recognised that it made sense.  Given how she had been tumbled around in the carriage, she could easily envisage how her dress had been torn and coated in dust.

“What shall I wear?”

“Well, we do not have the kind of clothes an Englishwoman might wear, here in the palace.  However, the Rajah has had some fine clothes sent for you.  Come through.”

Lakshmi opened the door back into the bedroom.  Resting on Wilhelmina’s bed, which had now been made, were a set of clothes.  They were of a paler shade than Lakshmi’s, an iridescent material shading from light yellow to silver.  It was the kind of fabric Wilhelmina would have expected to see on a ball gown rather than day clothes.  Apprehension returned to Wilhelmina as she tried to envisage herself kitted out like Lakshmi, especially with the tight top and her midriff bare.

“Right, if you are going to wear the fine clothes of a Rajah’s court you must know the proper names.”  Lakshmi said with an expression to show that she was mocking the tone of a school mistress.  “You may wish to ask to have your magenta choli put out or a servant to bring a green dupatta.”  In turn, Lakshmi lifted up the cropped top and then the long amber shawl to indicate each.

“Choli, dupatta.”  Wilhelmina repeated.

“Good.  And the skirt is your gagra.  Jaya will help you into these.”

Self-consciously Wilhelmina stood like a statue as the serving woman moved around her.  She kept the towel in place almost to the instant it could be replaced by the clothing.  Quickly Wilhelmina found herself laced into her first choli.  It had sleeves that extended only a short way down the arms and was low cut both at the back and front.  She knew if she had worn such a garment in Britain it would have caused a scandal, but she reminded herself that here it was standard and indeed probably necessary to cope with the heat.  There had been days when she had really struggled in her corset and hooped skirt.  She recalled the trip to Kanthapura when she had swooned and had missed the dinner having been compelled to recover in a darkened room.

Once she was in her gagra, Wilhelmina felt better.  It was a long pleated skirt of matching material to her choli.  It stopped above her ankles and Wilhelmina gathered that was so the well-to-do Indian women could show off the jewellery they wore over their feet.  Finally Jaya pinned the dupatta at her waist and showed how bringing it diagonally across her body she could cover more of her exposed skin.  Lakshmi looked on with apparent delight at how Wilhelmina was turned out.

“Excellent, I am sure you feel much better.  I know these clothes may appear strange, but they are ideal for Ferraghur’s climate.  Come let me comb your hair and then I will show you the palace.”

As when washing it, Lakshmi sung softly.  This and the strokes of the brush soothed Wilhelmina greatly.  She wondered how long her hair had grown.  Then imagined that bundled up in a bun or put into a plait for sleep she had overlooked its growth.  Wilhelmina’s mother had died the first summer they had been in India but even when she had been alive Wilhelmina had felt she was distant and that Pari had fulfilled much of the motherly role.  However, perhaps with an Indian woman in that position, things that would have been noticed in England, had been overlooked here.

“There you are.”  Lakshmi said with satisfaction.  “Come, let me show you this place and then we will have the midday meal.”

Wilhelmina had sampled some versions of local dishes made by cooks at the fort.  However, she had smelt richer, spicier versions and she guessed that, as with the clothes, she was going to have to become familiar with them.  She recognised that she should be grateful that she was being well looked after, even though it meant many adjustments for her.  As she followed Lakshmi through the shady corridors of the palace and looked into various rooms, she felt that if she was to remain part of those who now ruled large areas of India, it was only right that she knew about its people, especially those like the ones here at the Rajah’s court.  She now imagined acting as an emissary for her father at some future date.

This section of the palace was decorated with a range of pictures of people, men and women, some with strangely coloured skin.  Many seemed contorted and she wondered if they were allegorical or perhaps something like a horoscope.  Then they came to a large wooden door studded with iron and arced around it were similarly sinuous depictions of people, in some ways like gargoyles in churches that Wilhelmina recalled from back home, though the men and women depicted seemed beautiful rather than grotesque and happy rather than in despair.

“These are my quarters.”  Lakshmi said proudly.  “Unless the Rajah is attending on me, you can come to me here.  Jaya or Sati can be sent for me.  I have assigned them to you.”

“Thank you.”  Wilhelmina said.

She had realised that she would have found everything so much harder here without Lakshmi’s help.  Not least she was grateful to have found someone who spoke English well even if it was with quite a strong accent.  In fact she found she had come to like the sing-song way Lakshmi spoke.

Lakshmi opened the door and led Wilhelmina inside.  The rooms beyond were darker, with cut wood panels separating the various areas; rugs and silk cushions laid across the floor and small lamps burning even now in daylight.  There was the strong smell of incense too.  Wilhelmina liked it immediately; it was like something from an Arabian Nights story, secret and magical.  She imagined spending time here with Lakshmi hearing about her life, the court and she had no doubt, being told many Indian tales.

Taking her hand, Lakshmi led Wilhelmina past a number of sumptuous couches and a large circular bed hidden behind damask drapes.  They then emerged out on to a balcony, shaded by an architrave.  Shutters had been folded back to give a view out over the plain below.  It seemed to be hundreds of feet below them and the people and oxen Wilhelmina could make out looked to be no larger than ants.  Here, though, the air was fresher and she found the sight invigorating as if she could invoke the power of the palace in herself.

Soon a servant was appearing with lunch.  There were flat breads, a variety of vegetables both wet and dry, a lentil porridge, meat which Wilhelmina imagined was mutton, in a gravy and washed down with a yoghurt drink Lakshmi told her was called lassi.  Once the meal was finished a sweeter version was brought.  Lakshmi did not ask about Wilhelmina’s time in India, but rather began to tell her more about the workings of the palace.  As the afternoon wore on, she brought books both hand copied and printed, from her rooms and began to teach Wilhelmina what the sinuous writing meant.

“I’m not your governess.”  Lakshmi joked after a while.  “But you’ll not find books in English here, so I want you to be able to read something; stop you becoming bored.”

Wilhelmina wondered how long it was thought she would remain here.  However, she guessed it would be at least a week before her father reached Ferraghur even assuming that Pari could get to him and he was not on orders to be elsewhere.

“In time, there will be a book I am sure you will enjoy reading.  It is called the Kama Sutra.  I have one ancient copy, highly treasured.  Parts two and six are important for your future.  Part seven, well, that is the one I refer to in order to help you.”

For a moment, Wilhelmina wondered if Lakshmi was seeking to induct her into an Indian religion.  On reflection, though she imagined this sutra book was probably something like a code of etiquette.  She was at a royal court, after all, and if she had taken up residence at Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle, she knew someone there, probably a courtier like Lakshmi was here, would have felt obliged to tutor her.

As sunset came, a servant that Wilhelmina did not recognise came with a degree of urgency to Lakshmi.  She spoke quickly in Hindi but Wilhelmina seemed to grasp what she was saying.

“The Rajah is summoning us?”

“Well done, yes.  My work seems to already be paying off.  Come, this is a great privilege and we must not keep him waiting.”

Soon they were out of Lakshmi’s rooms and Wilhelmina noticed that, as a result of their wanderings in the palace, she had not realised how close they were to her own rooms.  In turn, from there, they were soon in the throne room.  This chamber was of a cream-coloured stone and far lighter than many of the rooms Wilhelmina had been in.  Sat on a large ornate metal chair at one end was a man in his sixties.

Perhaps he was just as Wilhelmina expected.  He wore a brocade suit of a shade that matched his room.  A jewelled turban covered his head and he wore an earring.  However, there was nothing effeminate about this man.  He exuded an air of power that made Wilhelmina a little apprehensive.  She walked forward to him, aware that not only his eyes but those of the others in the room, were upon her.  A woman a little younger than the Rajah sat close to him and she imagined this was his wife or at least the chief one.  There were other men which she took to be advisors or officials; one wore a Western style military uniform, but he was not English, perhaps Italian or even Turkish.

“Ah, yes, the Meena I have heard about.”

The old man said in a strong voice, smiling; his English was good and less accented than Lakshmi’s.  He gestured for her to step forward.  Wilhelmina did not try to correct his rendering of her name, she imagined she could struggle pronouncing his.  She came forward giving a curtsey, hoping that it was right.

“Excellent, turn around.”

Wilhelmina complied and it resulted in applause from the Rajah.  “Excellent, Lakshmi, my magical, wondrous flower.  You have done very well.”

“Are you happy here my dear?”

The Rajah addressed Wilhelmina directly.

“Thank you, your Majesty.”  Wilhelmina responded in Hindi, already having learnt the phrase from Lakshmi.

The Rajah clapped again.  “Oh that is perfect.  We could do with more English women coming here just like you.  Very good work, Lakshmi, carry on.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Wilhelmina took that to be their dismissal.  She curtsied again and backed away.  The Rajah began to talk with some of the men assembled there, about the political developments, Wilhelmina was sure.  Soon after, Lakshmi whispered in her ear that they could leave and they made their way back through the palace.  This time they went into a garden where a number of women sat.  Wilhelmina was introduced to them.  They proved to be wives of courtiers and courtesans like Lakshmi.  Wilhelmina was not really clear about the distinctions of rank but she was sat down with the latter group.  Musicians soon came and while to Wilhelmina the music sounded strange and the singing stranger still, by the time a light dinner was brought to the women, she found she was beginning to like it.

****

Wilhelmina tried to work out how many days she had been at Ferraghur.  Had it been a week or was it two?  It was difficult to tell; no-one here seemed to have a calendar.  Her days were filled with activities of the court and in many ways it was not much different from life at a Company fort.  She dressed – she now had a growing wardrobe of fine clothes; she was bathed – Lakshmi always washed her increasingly long hair and sang and she ate meals.  Breakfast was the main meal of the day here and the foods now seemed ordinary, nothing exotic.  There were music recitals as if she had been in a British cantonment and sometimes even dramas put on by ladies of the court.

The lessons with Lakshmi at times made Wilhelmina think back to when she had first come to India with her parents, but she found real benefit in learning Hindi and by now was on to reading simple books.  Lakshmi had also taught her a number of Indian games; the chaturanga version of chess; pagaday – a race game like ludo; navakankari resembling nine men’s morris and adu huli which she now knew meant ‘goats and tigers’.  Lakshmi emphasised how useful these would be for socialising with the other women.  For the moment, though, when in company, Wilhelmina still sat close to Lakshmi, worried that she would get her Hindi words wrong.

Jaya was finishing dressing Wilhelmina when Esha, one of Lakshmi’s servants came to her room.  She handed over a note.  It was written in very simple Hindi and Wilhelmina was pleased she could read it.  It invited her to the octagon chamber or ‘eight side room’ as Lakshmi had rendered it for ease of comprehension.  The word for music ended the note.  Pleased, Wilhelmina spoke slowly to Esha in simple Hindi words telling her to advise her mistress that she would soon be there.  Esha smiled and nodded and headed back out.  In a matter of minutes, Wilhelmina was at the room and found Lakshmi lounging on a banquette and cushions on the floor.  A short way off were four dancers and musicians that Wilhelmina recognised.  Lakshmi gestured for Wilhelmina to join her and then Esha came with a sweet falooda, one of the other drinks Wilhelmina had come to enjoy.

Wilhelmina watched as the musicians played the music which seemed to grow ever more frantic.  It was so far removed from the performances she might have seen back in England or even here at the house of an officer or a parson.  Wilhelmina found it heady and as if she was being caught up in the sounds.  The four women span around.  Their plaited hair was like a short whip as they turned.  Their jewellery at their wrists; the large belts around their waists and the silver bells on their ankles all chimed with their movements.  Rather than the dress Wilhelmina had become familiar with, now they had chiffon skirts that span out from them; below were tight-fitting leggings to maintain their modesty.  All there were in bright orange shades, Wilhelmina had no doubt, to add to the spectacle of the dance.  The music rose to a climax and then the four ceased abruptly with it, adopting stylised postures as if creating a tableau.

Wilhelmina found herself rising unthinkingly and clapping enthusiastic applause.  At that reaction Lakshmi looked delighted.  She rose quickly and came to join Wilhelmina.

“Did you enjoy that ’Mina?  It’s exciting to watch isn’t it?”

Wilhelmina smiled.  “Yes, yes, it is.”  She confessed.

“Can you imagine how exciting it is to dance that way?”

For a moment Wilhelmina was going to respond ‘no’; it certainly differed from any dancing that she had done.

“Why don’t you try?  I can teach you.”

The suggestion seemed a good one.  There were not many entertainments in the palace and she recognised that this would be a good distraction.

“Yes, thank you, I will appreciate that.”

“Good.”  Lakshmi smiled and once more Wilhelmina felt that joy at pleasing her.  “Come we’ll make you look a proper dancing girl of Ferraghur.”

Wilhelmina let Lakshmi lead her by the hand into a side room.  She was not really surprised to see matching dancing outfits there and one was quickly found that fitted Wilhelmina.  Lakshmi reclined as was her habit while Mohana, one of the dancers, a little smaller than Wilhelmina but probably her age, helped her dress to resemble her.  Pulling on the tight leggings was a strange sensation for Wilhelmina.  At first they felt constricting but as with all the clothes she had worn here, they were of fine material.  The choli was much as she already wore.  This time the dupatta was hung over one shoulder and kept in place by a broad belt stitched as with so much of her clothing, with glistening metal.

“That is your first oddiyanam; wear it tight and keep your waist slender.” Lakshmi commented.

Idly, as she was dressed, Wilhelmina reflected how English women these days increasingly sought to corset their chests but here it was the waists that were constrained.

“Good, yes, she should have a tikka and a hair chotli.”  Lakshmi continued.

As Mohana fixed the jewellery on to the line of Wilhelmina’s hair, its pendant resting on her forehead, she realised what the tikka was.  All the other women wore one, so it seemed to make sense that she did.  The chotli proved to be further jewellery worked into the plait Mohana made for her.  Wilhelmina realised she had not recognised how much her hair had grown; it seemed darker than before, but she imagined that was a result of the lighting.  The stark sunshine outside always contrasted sharply with the shaded interior and her eyes often struggled to adjust quickly.  Then Mohana was bending and jewellery, importantly of silver not gold, but with tiny bells, was attached to each foot.  The dancers had bare feet though Wilhelmina saw both Mohana and Lakshmi had toe rings, something that again was so different from what she knew, but for that, thinking she might one day wear them too, brought back that familiar frisson.

“Excellent.  Now you look the part.  Come, let us start teaching you.  I am sure the Rajah will be pleased that you are learning the ways of this place; becoming a real young woman of this court.”

Lakshmi’s enthusiasm, as always, chased away any qualms Wilhelmina had about becoming absorbed into Ferraghur and also her thoughts about when the crisis would be over and she could be taken to a British fort.

****

As Wilhelmina stood with Mohana, Kalyani and Sushila, she felt butterflies in her stomach.  She had always felt this way when she had been asked to perform on the piano or sing; an occasional occurrence at the fort and more common when she had been back in Britain.  This time, however, she was trying a new art entirely and her audience was to be royalty.  To reassure herself, Wilhelmina thought back over how long they had practiced this dance.  Had it been two weeks, had it been more?  With the routines of the court, it was easy to lose track.

Wilhelmina had spent the first few nights here trying to work out how long it would be before someone would come to fetch her.  However, as the days had passed, she realised that she was building up false hopes.  Her father was a serving officer and she had no idea what duties he might be called upon to perform.  He might be occupied for the next six months and she knew she would simply become frustrated if she counted the days.  As Lakshmi had encouraged, Wilhelmina simply let herself be borne along by the life of Ferraghur, not questioning it or her future.

From Lakshmi’s balcony everything on the plain below had seemed ordinary but she had no idea what might be going on in Marghdeen, Kanthapura or Lankhmar.  Ferraghur Palace felt impregnable and given that everyone here seemed friendly towards her, she guessed that she was safer here than potentially besieged in Kanthapura’s cantonment.

The three dancers spoke little English and working with them, Wilhelmina, or ‘Meena’ as they preferred to call her, knew her Hindi had improved.  Now when speaking with Lakshmi she slipped easily between the two languages; though in her mind they sounded the same.  She guessed this was a useful skill for the future.  She imagined working as an interpreter, though she found it hard to envisage doing this for her father, rather for the Rani or one of the other ladies at court.

Now Wilhelmina felt a tug at her arm and realised she had wandered off into a reverie just at the moment she needed to be attentive.  Mohana smiled.

“It is time, come Meena, let’s show the Rajah our best.”

“Yes.”  Wilhelmina agreed, feeling genuine excitement.

As they paraded into the court room, Wilhelmina tried not to think about how many people were here.  However, looking up she caught sight of Lakshmi and felt her support.  Mohana announced the dance and then the musicians begun.  The sounds of the sitar, tabla drums and shehnai pipes were now all familiar to Wilhelmina.  She struggled to recall what a piano sounded like and wondered if she would ever enjoy its music again.  Now that she had danced in a vigorous way to this music Wilhelmina felt it had entered her bloodstream in a way even the music of an ensemble for a ball could never now do.

Then all thoughts were lost beneath the moves as Wilhelmina was swept along, recalling that she needed to know as the dance became more frenetic and her friends span around her.  She was conscious that the clothes and jewellery she wore added to her as a dancer and she loved them for that.  She was a flash of saffron shade as she felt somehow removed from the court and put into the ephemeral world of this dance.  Then it was at an end.  Wilhelmina felt her heart thumping and her breaths deep, but she was not as flushed as she had imagined she would be.  There was applause from the audience.  Wilhelmina glanced to the other three proudly; each grinned broadly.

“Which is our newest dancer?  Come forward.”  The Rajah commanded.

Demurely, Wilhelmina obeyed.

“I could not tell you apart from the others.  You have done so well my dear … Meena.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.  It was my pleasure.”

“Excellent.”  The Rajah looked delighted.

He held out his hand and Wilhelmina came forward to take it.  She noticed his skin was paler than hers, though this was not too unusual when Indians aged.  She was sure hers had darkened from practice dancing in the garden.

“Lakshmi, I see you have really worked your magic; and her Hindi is good.”

Wilhelmina did not know if that was a question or a statement.  She had assumed all that was being said was in English.  Lakshmi appeared beside her, looking proud as a good teacher would.

“Yes, now make her a courtesan.  She will be perfect for that; perfect for Ferraghur.”  The Rajah noted.

Wilhelmina felt this was an acceptance and now she felt pride that her hard work had brought her to this.

“I am very grateful, your Majesty.”

“Yes, excellent.”

The Rajah let go of her hand and she took this to be her dismissal.  There was more applause as the dancers retreated from the chamber and Lakshmi led them off to one of the courtyard gardens where food and drink awaited them for a small celebratory party.  As she sat with the four other women, Wilhelmina realised she had not felt this kind of camaraderie since her tutoring with other Company daughters even before she came to India.

****

Wilhelmina made sure that she attached her oddiyanam tightly and that her tikka and chotli were in place.  The payal anklets sounded as she walked and for the first time, Wilhelmina wondered at the value of all that the Rajah had given her in his beneficence.  These were beautiful things and she loved the fact that she now shimmered and chimed the way that Lakshmi did.  As Wilhelmina entered Lakshmi’s chambers this morning for breakfast, she found the courtesan lounging on her low, broad couch which was covered with purple silk and large cushions.  Lakshmi was just wearing a broad dupatta of a similar shade, draped around her, but little else bar her jewellery.

“I am sorry, should I come back later?”

Lakshmi laughed, but not unkindly.

“No.  Not at all.  Come in, come sit with me.  You heard what the Rajah said yesterday – that he wants you to become a courtesan and so now we start your training in that.”

This confirmed the suspicions that had been rising within Wilhelmina in recent days that a courtesan was more than a simple courtier, she was supposed to particularly entertain the Rajah, not just with music, dance and conversation but how, in younger days, his wife might have done.

“You want to be just like me.”  Lakshmi stated.  “We’ll be true sisters then.”

Wilhelmina sat down on the edge of the couch and nodded.  All along she had felt as if Lakshmi was like a big sister she had never had.  Now she had no desire to disparage her.  Indeed, given how happy she seemed, perhaps it was a good idea to be more like her.

“Now, we will start reading the Kama Sutra.  There are a number of volumes.”  Lakshmi gestured to the collection of books on the table.  “We will begin with volume six on the role of the courtesan and then we will move to volume two which is about amorous advances and union.  I know you feel well fitted to life at Ferraghur, Meena, but this is a new step.  The British … well, I know they all behave as if they are sadhus and sadhvis … your monks and nuns.  I am surprised that any children are born.”

This was not new to Wilhelmina, she had heard French guests of her father’s, when they were back in Britain, complain the same.  They would often speak of how different it had been in her grandmother’s generation, though Wilhelmina found that difficult to believe.  Perhaps, however, since Victoria had ascended the throne there had been a change and Wilhelmina certainly knew that religious groups had become more prominent.  Yet, here, sat with a woman so sensuous in a place so removed even from the realities of India, let alone those of England, such attitudes could certainly be challenged.  Wilhelmina felt a strange, unnerving but pleasurable sensation, to consider it so.

“Yes.”  Wilhelmina agreed, pulling off her dupatta and resting her hand on the smooth skin of her naked midriff.

“So you would like to learn these things?”  Lakshmi asked.

“Yes, yes I would.”  There was a jolt of that sensation once more as she agreed.

“The Rajah, everyone at Ferraghur will be delighted.  Mohana, Sushila, Kalyani – they will be pleased that you are becoming just like them.”

Certainly one thing Wilhelmina liked about Ferraghur was that she felt part of a community; that she had friends.  It was so much better than being an odd-one-out among officers’ wives and matrons at the fort.

“I would like to please the Rajah.”  Wilhelmina said demurely.

The manner seemed to please Lakshmi.

“Ah, yes, and that reminds me.  You did please the Rajah.  He has sent gifts for you.”

Beside Lakshmi was an inset wooden box wonderfully crafted.  Lakshmi opened it.  Inside was a couple of gold bangles, what she knew was a hathpool – a complex set of rings for each finger with fine chains linking them and a number of earrings.  There were also smaller jewels in the box, to be worn in the ear, and, Wilhelmina imagined, one was a laung for the side of the nose, just as Lakshmi and the dancers wore.

“It is a shame you cannot wear all these fine jewels that the Rajah sent.”  Lakshmi looked disappointed.

“I have nowhere I can wear this gem or these earrings.”

“But you could; you could - the way that I do.  It is easy to arrange.”

Lakshmi said as if the thought had only come to her.  Wilhelmina was not really clear what she meant until Lakshmi produced a fine needle, only visible when it caught the light.

“A few moments.”

Lakshmi grasped Wilhelmina’s head, but not forcefully and then she deftly thrust the needle into the left side of Wilhelmina’s nose.  She was about to protest but the pain was momentary and before she realised that the metal had gone through, Lakshmi was working on her ears, giving her the four piercings in each of the same pattern as her own - the lobe, the inner ear, the outer part of the middle of the ear and the top of the ear.  Wilhelmina gave a shudder which was only partially surprise.  Then something else took over as Lakshmi whispered in that strange tone once more, close to her ears.  Instead of concern that she would look peculiar once she returned to the camp, Wilhelmina felt an excitement that she could now wear these beautiful things.  She began to envisage what it would be like to replace the nose stud, the laung, with one of the large gold nath rings even one with a delicate chain running from it to her ear as she had seen on one of the women in the court; certainly the Rani.

Lakshmi held up a hand mirror and Wilhelmina saw her nose and her ears decorated with gold.  Perhaps in a Company fort it would have looked strange, but she realised that here in Ferraghur, she saw women looking like this every day; it was normal and surely that made it sensible that she appeared the same.  The Rajah had been very generous to her and so what was the matter with a few small holes to please him in showing her in the jewellery he had sent?  Her life before Ferraghur seemed so distant and it was probably foolish to judge what happened here; what she was here, by its mores.

Wilhelmina looked at her skin.  It was difficult to tell in the shaded rooms of the palace, but she was sure it was a darker shade than before.  Perhaps the brightness of the gold brought it out.  However, she guessed, once more, that it was better to fit in among the women of the Palace than be sticking out all pale cream or worse, sun-burned pink.

“That is excellent, Meena.”  Lakshmi lent in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek.  “We will breakfast and then you can begin to read.”

The morning proceeded as Lakshmi had said; with her gently whispering phrases as Wilhelmina read on.  Wilhelmina found herself learning all about courtesans.  The book, Lakshmi told her was centuries old; this was a translation, but it seemed to be the way many things were still done.  By lunchtime Wilhelmina felt she was becoming part of something ancient and important to the royal houses of India and realised that pleased her.

“You are a fast learner.  I think you will soon be ready for volume two.”  Wilhelmina gave her mischievous smile.  “First, however, I need to give you a gift.  Sit back on the couch.”

Wilhelmina did as instructed and then Lakshmi came over to her with what the Englishwoman immediately realised was the replica of a man’s member.  It was made of a smooth stone.

“We do not have men here to practice the elements of volume two upon, well not yet.  However, this will help.”

Wilhelmina did not know how to react but took the item.  Despite its resemblance to nature, she found it was so detached from its human form that she could just see it as an ornament, perhaps a tool.

“We call it a darsildo and this is yours; every courtesan should have one.  It will help when you find yourself excited by what you read.  I know you have never been with a man, but you are a woman, Meena, not a girl and a woman requires many things.  Now, rather than go back to your room, today, you will remain here and I will tutor you in a new skill; one that you will be very glad you have learned.  Now, lie back on the cushions.”

Wilhelmina did not know how to react.  She had agreed to become a courtesan and she could hardly run from here complaining that this was not what she had meant.  She felt an obligation to the Rajah; to Lakshmi, for all they had given her and so it seemed that she must comply.  As she reclined, she realised she had let go of the darsildo and now, with the gentle singing of Lakshmi accompanying it, her gagra was slowly eased up.  Wilhelmina shivered as she felt the stone rest against the lips of her fairest flower.  Gently it was stroked up and down, its smoothness allowing it to slide over her skin easily.  Then she felt sensations stirring from what was becoming her cloven inlet; her chine.

“Yes, you are tight.  The Rajah; men, will like that.  However, you are no different to any other woman, your yonee is enjoying this; it is opening, slowly but steadily.  Feel the slickness.”

Wilhelmina shuddered, not able to speak; not wanting to do anything to disrupt the delicious feeling that was coming from her middle but moving in waves to every part of her body.  Now the angle shifted and she felt the curved tip of the darsildo slip between her lips.  She knew she wanted it deep within her.  However, Lakshmi pulled back and sliding to the top of the lips gently circled the nub there.  Wilhelmina knew little of this part of her body, but now it seemed to come alive to Lakshmi’s ministrations.  As it was gently rubbed by the smooth and now wet stone, Wilhelmina felt as if she had been shot through with lightning.  She convulsed on the couch, the jangling of her jewellery simply emphasising where she was, what she was.

“We will come back to that in time – your bhaganasa.  For now, she is just waking and I do not want her to rush around and end the party too soon.”

Wilhelmina had no ability to speak; no ability to resist what Lakshmi was doing to her.  The sensations were new but they were urgent and Wilhelmina felt a need for them to continue; to grow; for her to lose herself in them.  Time had no meaning, it was simply about the sensation; the probing of the darsildo, her darsildo and all it could bring to her body.

“Meena, you have stepped through the door; you have come into the realm of the courtesan and this is what you receive as your reward.”

Sometime later, Lakshmi returned to the nub and with some strokes, Meena found herself toppling, spinning, with bright lights in her eyes and her body shaking with a sensation which crashed on every fibre of her and left her breathless.  It took time for her to come back to some normal state and sitting up she looked over to see that the afternoon was well advanced.  She took up the darsildo which now had an earthy aroma she knew to be hers, like an opium addict grasping for his pipe.

“What have you made me?”  Meena asked, smiling mischievously herself.

“Something very, very special.”

“Thank you.”

Meena knew how deeply she meant that.  Lakshmi had shown her another world and made her perfect for it.  There was nowhere else she wanted to be and nothing else she wanted to live as.

“I imagine after that you need food.  Come.”

Lakshmi sprung up but came to help Meena rise as if she was an old woman.  As she stood she realised how weary her limbs were.  She marvelled at the power of the smooth stone tool she carried.

“This shall be Kishore.”  Meena declared.

Lakshmi smiled.  “The colt, yes.  Mine is Jagjit – world conquering.”

The two laughed and sat at the table for their afternoon meal.  Meena knew there was a great deal that Lakshmi could teach her, but now she felt that indeed, she had gone through the door and was truly the same as Lakshmi.