East India Company -- Fiction; Historical fiction; India -- History -- 1526-1765 -- Fiction
"But you know I don't entirely agree with that wisdom, Inglish. The
Holy Prophet, on whom be peace, wisely realized a man needs more than
one wife. He also demanded of us that we give each of them equal
attention, never to turn away from any one of them. What man can do
that, even with Allah's help? It is never possible. So we all do the
best we can. It is the will of Allah." Arangbar paused to swallow a
ball of affion as he watched the trays of lamb being placed before
them. "Tell me, Inglish, have you found a wife for yourself yet?"
"Not as yet, Your Majesty." He paused. "There are so many to choose."
"Then take more than one, Inglish." Arangbar washed down the opium.
"It's not allowed for a Christian, Majesty."
"Then become a Muslim." Arangbar smiled and took another sip from his
glass. "Are you circumcised, Inglish?"
"Majesty?"
"Never mind." Arangbar laughed out loud. "Neither am I. How are the
mullahs to know? My father, Akman, actually wanted to start his own
religion, combining the wisdom of India, Persia, and the West. He
thought circumcision was an absurd practice. You know, there was once a
_feringhi _here, I believe he was Portuguese, who decided to become a
Muslim, a True Believer. Apparently he had found a Muslim woman he
wanted to marry, and her father declared she could never marry a
Christian. So he had himself circumcised." Arangbar paused
dramatically. "And immediately bled to death. But doubtless he was
healed by the time he reached Paradise. Perhaps he made up there for
what he missed here." Arangbar chuckled and took a sip of wine.
Hawksworth noticed that Queen Janahara was trying with great difficulty
to retain her pleased expression. "Do you believe there is a Paradise
after death, Inglish?"
"What man can say. Majesty? No one has returned from death to tell what
he found. I think life is best lived in the present."
"I've always believed the same, Inglish. And I've lived as few men on
Allah's earth have lived." Arangbar settled himself against his bolster
and reached for another glass. He was starting to grow visibly tipsy.
"I now enjoy all Allah could possibly grant to a living man. There is
nothing on earth I cannot have. And yet, do you know, I still have many
griefs. Show me the man whose heart is free of grief." He took a piece
of lamb from a dish and washed it down. "So I find my greatest
happiness with wine. Like a low-caste camel driver. Why must I still
endure sorrow, Inglish?"
"We all are mortal. Majesty."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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