Free Mistress of the Throne (The Mughal intrigues) by Gupta Ruchir

slender.”
    As the caravan resumed its journey, I snuck my head from behind the gold-embroidered curtain on my elephant to look upon the village again. As I did so, my gaze settled on a man wearing a white shirt tucked into dark pants with sweat pouring down his face. Tall, with blond hair and green eyes, he was truly the most handsome man I had ever seen, though I couldn’t understand why I felt the need to stare at him. As the elephant rode by, I continued staring at him though he wasn’t looking at me. Finally, he moved his head up and towards me and our eyes met. He smiled at me, sending me into a quiet fit of embarrassed joy, and I ducked back into the palanquin. When I gathered the courage to peek my blushing olive face out of the palanquin again, the man was gone, and I was filled with a sudden sadness because I knew I would never see his handsome face again.
    That night we camped in the outskirts of the famine-stricken town. The stench had left the air, and the royal cooks had begun to prepare roast chickens, curried lamb and mixed vegetables for our dinner.
    As always, Aba insisted on having dinner with us. Ami asked, “What was the commotion with that
firangi?
” as she sipped her soup sporadically, as if with a depressed appetite.
    “His name is Gabriel Boughton,” Aba replied. “He’s a physician with the East India Company.” The East India Company was a corporation of British merchants who lobbied the Mughal emperor for trading rights in India.
    “What’s he doing here in this desolate land?” inquired Ami, taking the words out of my mouth.
    Aba said, “Well, though he’s a doctor by trade, it seems his official profession now is a commercial traveller for the East IndiaCompany.” Aba took another bite of his chicken, seeming little interested in saying anything more about this man who, I was embarrassed to admit, had piqued my growing interest. “He seems to have travelled from Surat to Gujarat on his way to Agra, but seeing the devastation from the famine caused him to remain here.”
    Gabriel pleaded with our generals for food and supplies and a small garrison of soldiers to protect him and those with him from robbers. In response to his request, Aba ordered half of all rations travelling with the caravan to be given to Gabriel, to be distributed as he saw fit; imperial tents to be used as safe houses, living quarters, and hospitals; and 200 troops were set to guard his supplies and men. Aba also ordered 5,000 rupees to be distributed every Monday among the deserving poor. As for the governors of the Deccan, who had sat silently and increased their treasuries during this time of destitution, Aba ordered them to be relieved of their duties and sent back to Agra immediately.
    That night, Aba bid Ami and me goodnight with his kingly kiss on our foreheads, oblivious to how his story of Gabriel’s courage and heroism had affected me. As all girls do, I dreamed of romance. Was it just lust or something much deeper I felt for this man? I had read poetry devoted to this thing called ‘love’ and of how numerous people along the ages had withered and died from this strange illness. But to me, love was nothing more than an illusion, a concept meant to be heard, not felt. Still, I decided that with time I would approach Ami about how I was feeling and let her guide me. My inner feelings were too raw and fragile to be shared with anyone else.

    The Burhampur fort was a much smaller building than our fort in Agra. Made of brick, it reflected the undeveloped and simple character of the region it was located in.
    As our caravan finally arrived in the fort of Burhampur, I continued to think about the pale-skinned man with whom I’d shared but one moment of eye contact. I wondered how people inhis country lived and what traditions they followed. Unlike most Mughals, Gabriel had no facial hair; his head-hair was blond; he wore tight English trousers; his eyes were hazel green. Yet here he was, thousands of