The woman said nothing as she pulled the mask from her face, the wig from her head.

You’ve got to be fucking joking!

4 Kulfi, Gulab Jamuns, Jalebis, Ladoos, and Kalakand are sweets

THE SWAYAMVAR: PART II

THE SWAYAMVAR
PART II

Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate.
Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.
Euripides, Medea

SHAKUNI frowned as he surveyed the swayamvar arrangements. So much colour! Is this a competition or a rainbow’s arse? When he’d first heard that Drupad had rented the ground that stretched beyond the back wall of the Sindh Banking Guildhouse, he had thought Panchal had fallen on hard times. It was a bad sign if the Ksharjan King and his daughter were to emerge into the arena of the swayamvar from the back-doors of a Drachma house.

But Panchal was as far from poverty as Shakuni was from comfort. The staging area of the swayamvar was as mystical as a fevered dream, rising in shades of rose, lily, and umber. Multistoried wooden galleries surrounded the central arena. Each gallery was said to be operated by an important family or merchant combine of Panchal, and was decked in the colour of the caste allowed to sit in them. Even before the contest began, the arena was its own spectacle – a great swarm of rich and poor, Namin to Resht, seated and standing, jostling for vantage positions to watch a ceremony much loved for its competitive spirit. The Panchalan Guards were out in force amongst the galleries, but more to prevent murder than hard words or minor scuffles, for inter-gallery brawls between caste members were a common feature, and were in fact encouraged for the entertainment they provided.

Tall cages hung suspended in the air over the makeshift arena, sliding over wires from one end of the arena to the other. Within these cages, silk dancers, knife-throwers and other curiosities regaled the crowds below. In one of the cages, four jugglers entertained spectators with a cascade of throwing knives. In another, three acrobats spun around a pole, wearing tight-fitting chequered motley skins. In one of the cages, there was a pyromancer spitting fire into the air through its bars, which seemed rather unwise considering the arena had consumed two small forests in its pillars, galleries and ceilings.

There was something familiar about their faces, Shakuni thought, as were the faces of some of the guards in armour, who shielded the two royal platforms. Perhaps it was his paranoia, but he distinctly felt he had seen these faces last night. Surely, she has not sent so many just to keep an eye on me? Not to mention they are too far to even see me. Shakuni shook his head and went back to his drink, trying to drown his uneasiness in his goblet.