Sindoori - The Unfulfilled Dream

It was late evening; Sindoori got up from her mattress in the small office room and looked outside the window. The orange glow of the setting sun flashed on her dark yet smooth skin as she squinted, raising her hand over her eyes to look in the western direction. She was anxiously waiting for important news from the palace." Why are they taking so long to decide?" she wondered. 

She had spent the entire day in anticipation, but now the suspense was growing into her. She kept herself engaged in her daily work of examining the supplies brought in by the traders far and wide, approving the prices, and closing the deals for relevant parties. But today, she wasn't able to concentrate on anything. She counted each passing moment agonizingly and waited for that special news to arrive soon. She again got up and went to the window to look for some action on the dusty roads. After a few minutes, she saw a horse rider fast approaching her office. She strained her eyes to look in the direction from where the dust was striding. As the horse rider was nearing, she could see his figure. He was a royal messenger she was expecting the whole day.

The messenger clasped the saddles and stopped at the entrance. The animal raised its head and came to a halt instantly. It rained that afternoon, and the soil was still damp with poodles of water everywhere. Sindoori dashed toward the messenger, splashing the muddy waters with her bare feet." Give it to me," she demanded, bending over for air. Surprised to see Sindoori in that state, the messenger carefully released the note from his bag and presented it to her. She didn't bother to go inside the office to read the letter. With heightened impatience, she tore open the seal and read the message; the King had selected her for the competition of the head courtroom dancer next month. Sindoori read the golden embossed letter repeatedly and couldn't believe the letter. Out of joy, she jumped into the puddle, holding the message close to her heart, and giggled at the messenger. He whined as she splashed the dirty poodle water on his pajamas and boots. He kicked the mud off and took leave on his horse.

Sindoori looked at his departing figure and came to her senses. She slowly walked back towards her office, now careful about the poodles, and thought," there are so many things to take care of for this competition ." She had never been to an international dance competition before and didn't know how to proceed with the formalities." What should I do?" she thought to herself as she walked in to clean her dirty wet feet. She went to the washroom inside the office and poured cold water from the bucket on her muddy feet, thinking about the show. 

Sindoori's father was a renowned trade advisor and successful merchant in the Mansab province. Sindoori remembered herself sitting on her father's lap, intently observing how he negotiated with the foreign merchants for the price that earned profits in selling the commodity items like Jute, Cotton, Medicinal barks, etc., And how he decided the price for niche items from faraway lands for buying silk, herbs, perfumes, and other exotic stones and jewels. Everybody, far and wide, was aware of his bargaining and negotiation skills.

Sindoori had picked those traits from her father. She was vigilant and aware of the surrounding kingdoms' happenings. She was also knowledgeable about the demographics and the prevailing mass psychology used for trade and business. But, above all, she was a born artist. Her dancing skills exceeded the prevalent techniques and grace, but she had the knack for learning different dance methods from the traders and fusing them into the traditional ones. Her flexibility, intelligence, and ways of mixing the techniques won her many accolades in her village and districts far and wide. Her eloquence was one of the reasons that she was invited to the most crucial dance competition by the King himself.

Sindoori remembered her mother's disapproval of her getting too involved with foreign merchants to learn the art and its history and listening to the stories of great artists from their respective lands. She vividly remembered her mother calling her inside the house each time she sneaked out to be with her father and observe him in the house veranda where he would set up his small office during the day.

" Sindoori, come here and oil your dirty hair." Her mother used to drag her inside the house from the Veranda, where she sat deeply engrossed, observing her father talking to silk robe merchants with funny feathers and mesmerizing fragrances. She got up from her place and followed her mother unwillingly inside the house when the nagging got too much to handle, and her mother created a scene in front of the customers. 

Sindoori's mother was fully aware of Sindoori's stunning features as she was growing up. She mainly inherited those from her grandmother, Sindoori's father's mother. Her grandmother was a gorgeous woman of her time, and the neighborhood knew about her charm. There was a rumor that the King himself had pursued her grandmother. But nobody knows what the actual story was. Her grandmother married a small-time trader later who had a job under the King's market supervisor. The King was present for the wedding, lavishly gifted the couple with a precious seven-stone necklace, and stitched a designer robe exclusively for her. The young bride shyly accepted the gifts and kept them securely in her house treasury. They were never worn again but were displayed as a proud memory from the King himself.

The long tresses that Sindoori had now resembled her grandmother's long hair. The golden-brown complexion and big black eyes were the talk of the town. Sindoori had one more specialty that never missed her cautious mother's eye. Sindoori got extra sensual and exuded her sexiness in front of the foreign merchants. She sat in a particular position or would play with her hair or robe in a suggestive way that would get the merchant's attention. Her mother never missed this act and was very displeased with Sindoori's behavior. But she was oblivious to the things that she was doing." Amma, I didn't do anything wrong. If the merchants look at me, how am I to be blamed? I was combing my hair as usual on the Veranda." she would reply innocently, holding onto the pillar and digging her foot into the mud floor. Her mother understood that this charm was inborn, and she didn't do it purposely. But at the same time, her maternal heart worried about the consequences of this alluring act and how Sindoori might get into trouble." Oh! Wretched Sindoori, couldn't you be like one of the ordinary simpleton girls? How will you help yourself from not getting hurt? Good lord, please look after her." her mother muttered as usual with a frown on her forehead and kept oiling Sindoori's long beautiful hair. "Amma, let me go outside. A new merchant from the east has arrived. I heard he had brought special golden trinkets and books about dancers from his state. Let me go, Amma, and meet him. I want to learn Amma. Please let me go."

…

She was dancing on a grand stage in front of the royal family for the dance competition. The crowd cheered her every move as she gyrated to the music, swinging around, picking each beat, and never dropping her balance in the most complex forms. Her memory brought back every technique she learned from the merchants, their fancy dolls, and books. The entire hall was stunned by her grace and dance form. Never had they experienced such a performance in their lifetime.

The dance was at its peak with heightened taala from the drums and the veena. She was about to cross her legs and dive when she heard, "Sindoori, Sindoori, you wretched, get up, come inside, oil your hair. Don't sit with the merchants. Come inside you .." Her mother was pulling her arms, dragging her inside the house. "Amma, wait. My notebook. Amma, I have to learn so much. Amma, wait. The merchant has brought dance books for me. Amma, please. Let me go. Let me learn, Amma. I want to dance in front of royalty one day, Amma. Please don't do this." 

Sindoori was wide awake now, sweating heavily. Only if Amma had allowed me to learn, she sighed. The room's golden-orange oil lamp flickered and went out, filling the space with darkness.