We helped her into the gilded palanquin she used for official occasions. Sundari called on the rani’s male guardsmen to join us in surrounding her palanquin bearers. I was given a position in the front, with Moti and two men I’d never seen before. Then we walked to the baradari, the theater where all of the raja’s productions were held.
The sky was clear enough to see the moon, which cast a silvery light over the mossy stones of the wet street. I had never been out so late after dark, and I felt a small thrill. But the sounds of the night were different from the sounds of the day, and the rustling of the trees suddenly seemed louder and more dangerous than they ever had before. Ahead of us, hundreds of small lights flickered like stars. As we drew closer to the open-air pavilion where the raja and his court were waiting, those small lights turned out to be oil lamps suspended from the ceiling of the baradari. Cushions of gold cloth were spread out on the ground, and I could see the raja laughing with a young man in a British uniform. There were probably two hundred guests within the baradari, both British and Indian.
From inside the palanquin, I hear the rani ask, “Who is he with?”
“Major Ellis,” Sundari said.
The palanquin bearers lowered the rani to the ground, and as she emerged, the raja rose to greet her. “Your Highness, you are exquisite tonight.”
“I left my jewels behind, as I suspected you would be wearing enough for both us,” she teased.
“Even without jewels,” Major Ellis said, “Her Highness shines as brightly as that star.” He pointed to the North Star, and all of us smiled. He was tall and very well built, with eyes the color of turquoise and skin like rice powder. He, at least, hadn’t been burned in the sun. I wondered if he kept indoors all day.
While the rani continued speaking English with the major, we were led to the best seats near the front of the stage. The rani’s male guards took seats behind us. But from this position, it was impossible to watch any of the audience members. When I turned around to survey the crowd, I found myself looking at Arjun, the captain of the guards.
“Ever read Kalidasa?” he asked without greeting.
I really hoped he wasn’t speaking to me, but I was the only Durgavasi who was doing as Sundari had instructed by checking to see who was around the rani. “No. Is he the one who wrote this play?”
“Yes. Her Highness has him in her library. You should make a request to read him.”
“Why would she do that when we’re about to see the play?” Jhalkari asked.
“Because some people enjoy reading even more than watching,” Arjun said.
Jhalkari dismissed his suggestion with a wave. “Not me.”
Just then, Kahini turned around. “What is this about Her Highness’s library?” she said.
“I was suggesting that Sita might want to borrow one of the books in the royal library,” Arjun said. “Her Highness has been very gracious to me in the past.”
“And what makes you think she wants to be gracious to Sita?”
“Oh, I think the rani is gracious to everyone, even people who don’t deserve it.”
I’m sure Kahini would have replied to that, but suddenly, someone called for silence. I turned back to the stage to see a feminine-looking boy dressed as the goddess Indra. Today, women are allowed to perform on stage. But then, it was the same as it was in Shakespeare’s day: women’s roles were played entirely by men, the younger looking the better.
The room became quiet.
“Try not to look surprised,” Jhalkari whispered. “And watch the Englishman’s face,” she said. “Major Ellis is terrible at hiding what he thinks.”
I looked over at Major Ellis, who was seated in the place of honor to the rani’s left. Whenever the rani said something to him, his pale skin flushed. I kept thinking of a Sarus crane—a white bird with a long body and bright red cheeks.
Music began to play, and then a beautiful woman appeared on stage. She raised her arms to the sky, and I was completely transfixed by the way her bangles made soft clinking sounds as they slid down her wrists. Suddenly, nothing else existed for me. Just the baradari and the stage and this beautiful woman. Then the woman began to speak and I realized that she was Raja Gangadhar.
I looked at Major Ellis: his jaw was hanging loose.
Truthfully, the raja resembled a woman so closely that if I had passed him in the street, I doubt I would have given him a second look.
I searched the crowd, and several men who were sitting together began whispering intently. Were they shocked like I was? Or was it something more?
The play went on, and as the music began for the final act, one of the men reached suspiciously beneath his kurta. I clenched the holster of the pistol at my side. Who would be faster? I was about to rise when suddenly the man met my gaze and froze. He whispered something to the other men. All three turned to look at me.
Sundari saw me tense.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
She nodded.