A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya

untouched. God had granted me enough
presentability and what is called the gift
of the gab. In short, these two talents
stood by me during the days of my
adolescence and adulthood. Even though
they started taking me for an ‘adder’ to
see my array of deeds, I had never been
lewd. So in a wandering spree once I
landed at the town of Sthanweeshwar
(Thaneshwar). I regard that day as the
day of my good luck.
Entering the city I beheld much of
festivity. On the highway, convex like a
tortoise back, there was a huge procession
in movement. Women outnumbered
therein. Queens were seated in precious
palanquins. The horizon was resonant with
the tingles emanating from tiny anklets
caused to collide gently on the feet of
the attending maids keeping abreast of
them. Bejewelled bangles grew restlessly
playful because of quick and forceful raising
of creeper-like arms. Effectually, hands
also like creepers were stirring. Their palms
turned upward, impressed one as if fully
blossomed lilies in the galaxy had come
down tremulously owing to the whiffs of
breeze. Even as the jostling in the throng
mounted, the blossoms in their ears started
sliding. The maids bumped among
themselves. Thus one’s bracelet or armlet
interlaced with the other’s outer garment
effected some notch or slit. Their
sophisticated cosmetics, thawed with
perspiration were colouring their silk
apparel. A band of danseuse as well was
accompanying them. To view their laughing
and chuckling faces was to feel as if a
coppice of lilies in full bloom was on the
move. Their restive necklaces furiously
agitated were clashing against their busts;
unplaited braids and waving locks took
a lingering halt at the point of vermilion.
Constantly frolicsome flighty coloured
powder was doing their hair brownish red
and the entire highway reverberated with
their enchanting melody.
Standing all along on a city crossroad
I was watching this scene spellbound.
The most delectably amusing part was
that wherein the palace inmates such as
the dwarfs, humpbacks, eunuchs and
morons demented with a boorish and
contumecious dance were on the run. An
old attendant on the women’s apartments
was in a sorry pickle. Round his neck
the outer garment of an engrossedly
dancing damsel had got stuck up and amidst
the pull and push the poor aged one became
a laughingstock. Right in the middle of
the procession was the place for the
princesses. The song-and-dance was
restrained, solemn, and entrancing. On the
one side the earth seemed to be cracking
from the sound waves of kettle drum,
tabour, war drum, tube, pipe, and conch;
and on the other the princesses’ palanquins
resplendent with their gemmed earrings
agitated, loquaciously ringing at some turns
of the mild chirp coming out from the
feet delicately adorned with anklets. In
the rear were the king’s mimes, heralds,
30 :: January-March 2012