Free The Assassin's Song by M.G. Vassanji Page B

entrance. To my surprise only Ma and Zainab were there, sitting in the kitchen, chatting. Zainab was in her burqa, though the top had fallen off, revealing her thick wavy hair. She quickly returned it to its place. “Where is the other woman who came with Zainab Bai, Ma?” I asked curiously. “My sister left,” Zainab explained. “Didn't you see her outside?”
    It was some months later when I realized the truth of what I had witnessed that day. It was Sunday again, and I saw Ma leaving the house; I was on the point of asking what was there to eat, when my eye fell on the packet under her arm; this time it didn't look at all like it could contain any snack, bhajia, or ghathia, or whatever. A look of guilt crossed my mother's face, and in that flash she had revealed her secret. Not to be identified as theSaheb's wife entering the cinema, she would put on a veil beforehand, in Zainab's house, where she would remove it afterwards on her way home. That day when I saw the two veiled women entering our house, for some reason they had come straight from the cinema.
    I did not tell anyone about my discovery. It remained an unspoken secret between my mother and me, for we never discussed it either. Every time I saw a veiled woman, a burqa pass by, those deep eyes could be hers, and she could be on her way to somewhere secret.

Dear friend                            
auspicious is the moment        
this day when the saint arrives
    c. A.D. 1260
.
    The wedding of the sufi
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    The city of Dhara was situated south of Patan, of which it was a tributary, and was ruled by the good king Devija; he had a wife, Savitri, and a beloved young daughter, Rupade. The princess was famed for her precocity, being as unlike other girls her age as a swan is unlike a pigeon. She was a great soul, it was whispered, who had returned to earth merely to complete some deed left over from a previous birth and thus pay her final debt to karma. This was exactly what made the parents fearful: Was the child fated to leave them soon? When the princess played with her dolls, she would make them into sages and yogis, gods and goddesses. Here were Arjun and Krishna on a chariot, the latter reciting the wisdom that became the Gita; here was Valmiki writing his great book in an ashram by the river. One particular doll she had clothed in royal garb, though not the familiar one of her father and brothers. She called this doll her guru and her husband.
    Time came for her to get married. She was five years old.
    When the royal astrologers were brought to her and a list of prospective suitors proposed, some from as far away as Cutch and Jaipur, the girl refused to consider them.
    “I am already married,” she said, clutching her favourite doll close to her. “My groom is far but he has sent this likeness of him. See how handsome he is … brave as Arjun and devoted as Harishchandra.”
    The wedding of their beloved Rupade was awaited with much anticipation by the people of Dhara; neighbouring kingdoms also watched and waited—royal weddings everywhere are always a source of celebration and envy, gossip and speculation. They portend alliances and reflect the prestige of a kingdom. Devija and his queen Savitri tried all manner of tactics to convince the girl to give up her illusion and accept a proposal. Pandits recited mantras over her, gave her potions to ingest. Magicians of the forest tribes came and worked their mysterious crafts. Foreign doctors were brought from the port cities to diagnose her condition, suggest remedies. But the little girl remained adamant. “I am already married,” she insisted, “can't you see that?”
    The court astrologers who had previously seen nothing but good luck shining on her prospects now proposed to reconsider. She had been born just as dawn had arrived. But now the pandits admitted that at the moment of her birth one of them had as usual gone up to the observatory tower to sight the first