In the City of Gold and Silver Read Online Free PDF Page A

constant need for his mother. It had been in vain. He had been torn from her.
    Slowly she had come to terms with the situation, and now they meet on Fridays but only if there are no official ceremonies, which the king’s sons, however young, have to attend.
    She has not seen him for several days.
    â€œMammoo Khan, go and bring me Prince Birjis Qadar, please.”
    A few minutes later, a radiant Mammoo reappears, followed by a frail little boy with wavy hair, who throws himself into his mother’s arms.
    â€œ
Amma
, we had a kite flying contest and I won!”
    Touched by the child’s enthusiasm, his mother congratulates him while the eunuch cannot help commenting: “Of all His Majesty’s sons, our little king is the most talented!”—immediately drawing a dark look from his mistress.
    â€œI have already told you not to call him that! If anyone ever heard you! Are you trying to bring misfortune down on us? You know full well he is only fourth in the order of succession and there is very little chance of his reigning one day!”
    â€œOne never knows! He is far more intelligent than his elder brothers—fat, spoilt boys. The king will realise it one day, or maybe his brothers will fall ill . . . ”
    Hazrat Mahal shivers.
    â€œBe gone before you make me really angry!”
    While the eunuch leaves muttering, she clasps the surprised child against her.
    â€œDo not fear, my darling, whatever happens I will protect you.”
    What can happen? She cannot imagine, but she has the clear impression of ominous clouds gathering on the horizon.

4
    T he whole town, dressed in all their finery, converges on the house of fairies. The elegant theatre, adorned with white balusters and raised pavilions topped with domes, is located in the park of Kaisarbagh. The monumental doors sculpted with sirens and fish—emblems of the kings of Awadh—separating the palace and its gardens from the rest of the town, have been thrown open for the occasion. Riding high on their thoroughbreds, who are prancing about with their manes and tails dyed in bright colours, horsemen mingle with dignitaries carried by eight turbaned men, in palanquins canopied with crimson silk, and with
taluqdars
25 enthroned on their elephants, caparisoned with gold embroidered velvet. It is the evening of the great
mela
, the yearly celebration hosted by the king, to which the entire town is invited.
    On entering the park, people go into raptures over the trees and shrubs trimmed into the shapes of deer, peacocks or tigers, illuminated by thousands of lanterns. From every branch hangs a perfume vial delicately sprinkling the guests. They advance slowly, fascinated by the fireworks that burst forth from small mounds, conjuring up bouquets of flowers, streams, palaces, fabulous animals and ephemeral characters of every colour. A magical world created by the sovereign, where art and dreams replace reality, a reality he is denied.
    Immense tables are set out under arches of rare flowers decorated with gold filigree. They are covered with a spread of delicacies coated with silver leaf, finer than a butterfly’s wing—pure silver reputed to refresh and improve memory and sight. Awadh is proud of having taken Mughal cuisine to unrivalled heights of sophistication. The poultry is fed on pineapples, pomegranates and jasmine to perfume its meat, and young goats drink milk laced with musk and saffron. The Court employs dozens of chefs, each striving to invent the tastiest dishes, so many masterpieces for which they will be royally rewarded. Over the space of a century, these master chefs have made Lucknow the undisputed centre of north Indian culinary art.
    Now, the crowd has swelled into a never-ending stream. A hundred varied dishes are laid out to satisfy all its desires, amongst them the melt-in-the-mouth
galawat kebabs
, perfumed with a touch of rose essence;
nargisi kofta
, baby goat meatballs stuffed with egg;