Free The World Beyond by Sangeeta Bhargava

music picked up crescendo, as did Chand Pari’s fall of the feet and movement of the hands. She swirled around faster and faster in time with the beat and finished with a flourish.
    ‘That was beautiful, you have made us happy today,’ Abba Huzoor remarked, before dismissing all those present in the room with a wave of his hand and turning to Salim.
    Salim performed the taslim. Straightening up, he said, ‘I believe you sent for me, Abba Huzoor?’
    ‘We heard you killed that tigress.’
    ‘Yes, Huzoor.’ Salim inclined his head respectfully.
    Abba Huzoor came close to him and patted his head lovingly. ‘We are pleased, my son. Inshah Allah may you always make us proud.’
    ‘I’ll try my best,’ Salim replied, his Adam’s apple moving.
    ‘We shall have a celebration in your honour tomorrow.’
    Salim’s eyes shone as he exclaimed, ‘Ya Ali! Thank you so much Abba Huzoor.’

    Sitting in the shade of the long veranda of the palace, Salim looked across the Gomti at the park. A circular portion of the park had been enclosed with bamboo fences and iron railings. That was where the elephant fight was soon to commence. A crowd had begun to gather along the fence and on the verandas, balconies and rooftops of houses that overlooked the park. There were even some enthusiasts who were perched on trees.
    Salim thought of how he had shot the tigress. He felt a cold tingle of fear as he recalled how close he’d been to getting killed. Then he remembered Miss Bristow. What an affront – a woman in breeches! She ought to have been a man. She was far too haughty and emancipated for a woman!
    And yet he could not deny he found her attractive, even in a man’s clothes. The way her hips filled the lean trousers and the way the taut shirt moved whenever she breathed. And her blue eyes, her honest, laughing eyes – neither too big nor too small, just perfect.
    What was wrong with him? Why the hell was he thinking about that English woman? And what was he thinking – offering to teach her music? What if she took his offer seriously?
    The bugle sounded, announcing the arrival of Abba Huzoor. He entered the veranda with fanfare, accompanied by the peacock fan-bearers. Everyone stood still with folded arms and bowed heads.
    Abba Huzoor sat down and signalled for the fight to commence, with a wave of his hand. Salim watched him as he sat there, his hands moving as though he were composing a piece of music in his head. It was true – Abba Huzoor’s entire being was submerged in music. He had heard that even when he slept, his hands and feet moved about as though dancing.
    He turned his attention to the two elephants, tied with a rope, at opposite ends of the arena. Both of them were in rut, which was done on purpose. Elephants were peace-loving creatures and would not be inclined to fight unless they were ruttish. A foul-smelling, greasy liquid was oozing out of their temples.
    As soon as the bugle sounded again, the ropes were cut loose. The two elephants raised their trunks and tails and, trumpeting loudly, charged towards each other. As their heads collided with an enormous impact, a loud roar went up from the crowd. The mahouts kept goading the two animals on with their spiked red-hot iron spears.
    Salim watched the elephants jostling each other with disinterest. ‘You killed that majestic beast for mere sport? Or was it to prove your manliness?’ Miss Bristow had taunted. Someone else had said something similar when he was sixteen. ‘Only cowards kill dumb animals that cannot retaliate. If you want to prove your royal blood, go and fight against injustice instead of killing innocent beasts.’ Even today, after all these years, he had not forgotten the look of contempt on that woodcutter’s face – it was almost as if he had spat on him.
    Grimacing, Salim looked in Abba Huzoor’s direction. He had left. One of the elephants had fallen to the ground. The other elephant was about to rip open its belly with its tusks,