The Moghul by Hoover Thomas

Author:Hoover, Thomas [Hoover, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2013-09-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Many years ago I was a devadasi." Kamala sat, pillowless, on the carpet, watching as Hawksworth ate. Her musicians, the flautist and the drummer, knelt silently behind her. Nadir Sharif’s servants stood by, nervously attentive, pretending to ignore everyone but Hawksworth. The white plaster walls of the lamp-lit room fairly flashed with Kamala's diamonds. "Do you know what that is?"

Hawksworth shook his head, his mouth gorged with roast lamb. The room was filled with its aroma. It was his first lamb since Burhanpur, and he was ravenous.

"Does that mean yes?" Kamala's Turki was surprisingly good.

Hawksworth suddenly remembered the curious Indian convention of swinging the head from side to side to signify concurrence. He had meant to say no, which in Indian body language was an almost un-reproducible twist of the neck. He swallowed the lamb and reached for another shank.

"No. I meant no. Is that a kind of dancer?"

"It means 'a servant of the gods.' In South India there's a special caste of women who serve in the great stone temples, who are married to the god of the temple. When we are very young we have a marriage ceremony, like any wedding. Except we are a bride of the temple. And then we serve its god with music and with our dance."

Hawksworth examined her quizzically. "You mean you were like a nun?"

"What is that?"

"They're something like Papist priests. Women who give themselves to God, or at least to the pope's Church." Hawksworth paused awkwardly. "And claim to be married to Christ, so they never lie with a man."

Kamala looked at him with surprise.

"Not even the high-caste men who come to the temple? But how, then, do they serve this Christian God? By dance only?"

"Nuns aren't known to do much dancing. They mainly . . . well, I don't really know what they do, except claim to be virgins."

"Virgins!" Kamala exploded in laughter. "This Christian God must be a eunuch. We devadasis serve the temple with our bodies, not with empty words."

"Then what exactly did you do?" Hawksworth looked up and examined her.

"I was at the famous Shiva temple of Brihadishwari in Tanjore, the great fountainhead of Bharata Natyam dance in India. There we danced for the god of the temple, and we danced too at the courts of the Dravidian kings of the south." She hesitated, then continued. "Devadasis there also honor the temple god by lying with men of high caste who come to worship, and by wearing the jewels they give us. It's all part of our sacred tradition."

She laughed as she watched the disbelief flood Hawks-worth's face. "I gather we must be quite different from your Christian 'nuns.' But you know devadasis are honored in the south. Many are granted lands by the men they know, and though they can never marry, devadasis sometimes become attached to a man and bear his children. But our children always take our name and are dedicated to the temple. Our daughters become devadasis also, and our sons temple musicians.

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