Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,50
rest of us that she is not queen.”
Two grand celebrations were planned for that evening in the birooni and andarooni. Pari was obliged to join a celebration for the women organized by Sultanam, and she sent me to attend the festivities at Forty Columns Hall. My stomach rumbled in anticipation of the rich dishes that would be served, giving us our first taste of the new Shah’s generosity. But even more than that, I hoped that Mahmood Mirza would be there. Ever since he had left, I had had to train my heart. I told myself I had no claim over the boy, other than as his teacher. Yet you cannot spend eight years with a child without feeling as if he were a member of your own family. Mahmood was just two years older than Jalileh, and I knew him better than my own sister. I missed him and wanted to find out if his new life suited him.
Forty Columns Hall glittered in the night. Servants had decorated it with so many hanging lamps that its arches and painted ceiling glowed, and the hall was flooded with golden beams. Bouquets of freshly cut flowers bloomed in the corners of the room and spilled their perfume into the air. The doors opened onto the large garden, illuminated on this night with torches so that all of nature seemed part of the celebration. Heaping platters of fruit and nuts hinted at the lavishness of the meal to come. Balamani found me so that we could feast together, and we took a seat on one of the cloths that had been laid out in the garden under a sky thick with stars.
When Isma‘il entered Forty Columns Hall that evening, everyone stood up. He was wearing a saffron-colored robe, the color of gaiety itself, and had put a jaunty blue feather in his turban, despite the recent death of his father.
“I have prepared a special indulgence tonight,” Isma‘il told us. He sat down on a jewel-encrusted portable throne, and all of us sat with him. Then he raised his hand, and a servant ran out of the room to do his bidding. After a moment, from a nearby room, the high, sweet sounds of a three-stringed kamancheh filled the air. I turned to Balamani, surprised. In my twelve years at court, I had never heard festive music in the palace. After Tahmasb Shah had become devout, years before my arrival, he had fired the court musicians and dancers. The court had become a sober place, one that favored learning, effort, and religious devotion.
The musicians entered the room and sat down on cushions placed near the Shah. The orchestra consisted of the kamancheh, a reed flute, a six-stringed tar, and a daf drum with metal rings that gave percussion such a rich sound.
All of a sudden, a voice emerged from the other room that seemed to be pouring directly from the singer’s heart. I sat riveted, held still by wonder. A voice! Singing! It filled the palace with its deep longing, bypassing all objections, cutting straight to the soul. The singer entered the room, his arms open wide to the Shah, and sang lines of poetry about the heart’s search for the gates of spirit and how he would gladly sacrifice himself for a glimpse of light under the gate.
When the song ended, the group of musicians changed its tune. The daf marked out the beat clear and strong, and then the lively, sweet sounds of the kamancheh took over. The vocalist began singing about the joys of love everlasting. I felt my feet begin to move, and I could see from the flutters in Balamani’s robe that the rhythm had moved him, too. I didn’t think it possible to dance at the palace, but my body strained against my robe like a lion against his cage. Around me, a surge rippled through the men’s bodies, and they began to move faintly, with longing.
The Shah tilted his head as if he was listening deeply. I watched his bare foot begin to tap in time to the music, softly and then more emphatically until it was pounding against the carpet. Suddenly he sprang up and thrust his hands in the air. He began stamping to the beat, and with his arms held high, he formed powerful rosettes by twirling his hands. That was all he needed to do before two small boys ran to join him, unconstrained by the majesty of the royal person. The