She enquired, “What happened to her? Where had she gone?” Ajab Malik spoke as if in a trance,“Well, after months, one day I went to that little village in the dense woods. There sitting by a fresh water spring, lost in the memories of my beloved, did I tell you her name? No, I did not—well Noshlab spoke to me. There she was, a beautiful bird perched on the branch of a nearby tree.” Miss Braun was confused. “What do you mean Ajab? Birds do not speak, and where was Noshlab in all this?”
“Yes Miss Braun, I too was surprised. But my Noshlab told me the whole thing. Her father had been mad at her; he took her to a Baba who lived in the dense woods. Baba, you know? People who shun this world in search of the supernatural, some sort of holy men, endowed with superhuman powers. As Noshlab was presented to this man and her father narrated his woes, the Baba asked her to give up and surrender herself to the wishes of her father. She refused. Baba got angry and in a fit of anger, chanted a particular mantra, threw a pebble at her head and transformed her into an unusual bird.”
“That is unbelievable? Ajab Malik do you really mean it?”
“Yes Miss Braun, I know it happened. Noshlab told me all this and she was in the form of that bird when I last saw her,” he concluded.
“But Ajab how is it possible? It is like one of those fairy tales.”
“I know no one will ever believe me. But this is a fact. It is incredible, yet it happened exactly this way.” Miss Braun, not wishing to hurt him, merely said, “Ok, you believe in it. That is all right and that is enough. But what happened later. Where is Noshlab now?”
Ajab Malik’s face lit up as he resumed his tale. “Well, I stayed on in the little village. Every morning we met. Noshlab told me that the charm thrown over her by the wicked Baba could be reversed but she could not let me know how. She only advised me to wait for a particular night when the planets in the sky go into a particular configuration. She alone would know and she used to keep awake the whole night, looking at the sky and waiting for the auspicious occasion.”
“Did she succeed?”
“No she did not for she was not allowed to succeed. One day she had called me to the flower bedecked meadow. She had to give me some important news. When I reached the particular spot, I found that she was not there. In the distance I saw a vehicle going down into the valley. Many tourists visited the meadow in that part of the year. On top of the vehicle stood a birdcage and I could hear the shrieking and wailing Noshlab, even from that distance. I ran after the vehicle. It sped away at great speed. The man who drove saw me running after him. He took me for a local tourist guide. He yelled in German, “I have got the rare bird.”
“Oh! my god,” exclaimed Miss Braun. “You mean your
Noshlab was taken away by a German. You are here in search of her?”
“Yes Miss Braun, yes.”
“Oh, my poor darling! You have suffered a lot.” Saying this Miss Barun wrapped him in her arms and held him tightly to her bosom.
Reclining in the easy chair in the royal suite as the state guest of this moderate Central Asian republic, Mahaballi was in a joyous mood. He stood up and rummaged through his belongings. Then he stopped as he picked up something and held it up. It was an audio cassette. Yes, this one was Subhalakshmi’s recital. It was a treat, he thought. Then his eye caught another cassette—Lata Mangeshkar’s old melodies. This too was a treat. He was in a fix, which one to listen to? After much pondering, he decided to listen to both alternately. He walked up to the music system placed in one of the corners of his room. He put Subhalakshmi into the deck. He pulled his chair closer to the deck and settled down in it. The carnatic music filled the room. The evergreen voice of Ms Subhalakshmi rose. Mahaballi went into a trance. It was bliss. He stood up and pushing a button ejected Subhalakshmi, and inserted Lata into the deck. The nightingale began to sing. It was splendid—pure sublime bliss.
He once again settled down in the chair and seemed to go into a trance. After a while Subhalakshmi resurfaced in his mind. He got up and repeated the exercise. This went on for a long time. Then unable to get up for the nth time, he stopped the deck. Silence. He began thinking, his mind jostling with the huge challenge of how to listen to both simultaneously. He began rummaging through his belongings till he found what he was looking for—a pair of headphones. He put Subhalakshmi into the deck, connected it to the headphone and inserted the plug into his left ear. Then he inserted Lata into another chamber of the deck, connected another headphone and placed its plug in his right ear. Then he pushed the two buttons. Yes! Mahaballi had hit upon a novel idea for national integration. He made a mental note of it. He would talk about this in the next integration council meeting. Wise man, he thought and congratulated himself. He continued to sit in the easy chair, listening to the two queens of Indian music. Then suddenly he was distracted. The cordless phone in his shirt pocket began to buzz. He brought it out, pushed the in button and took it near his ear. He could hear nothing. He realized his folly. Quickly he removed the earplug, and listened. “Hello Hello,” came from the other end. Mahaballi replied in his majestic tone, “Yes, Mahaballi speaking.”
“Sir, it is Secret agent Raw Kaw. It is urgent.”
“Yes, go on Kaw, what is it?”
“Sir, Birbal.”
“What about him?”
“Sir, he has accomplished his mission.”
“What mission? Give me the details.”
“Sir, he has managed to enter the Qaf caves.”
“Qaf caves. But why?”
“Sir, he is in search of the 370 coins and 52 cards.”
“What? Did he lay his hands on the treasure?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Oh!What a great betrayal! I will appoint a commission of enquiry. CBI will conduct a probe. But before that I will throw him out of the house and banish him to the forest.”
“Sir, any instructions?”
“Yes, Raw Kaw. Find out where he is. And what is he up to? Keep me informed of every little detail. This is a national emergency.”
“Yes Sir,” said the agent and disconnected the line. Mahaballi’s left ear became silent and he concentrated on his right. Ever melodious Lata was singing,“Daga Nahin Dena, Zamana Kharab Hai Daga Nahin Dena….”
Kashyap was busy making arrangements for the grand feast. He had long sessions with the royal cooks of Jaladbhava’s palace. He made detailed lists of different dishes that the cooks could prepare and which guests would relish. Fresh river water fish was ordered and different vegetables arranged. The cooks told him of the spices that they required and Kashyap took no chances. He wanted this feast to be a memorable one. He personally went to invite Jaladbhava, who at first showed some reluctance. After all, Kashyap was a guest of the kingdom and it was not proper for him to take the trouble. But Kashyap persuaded him and Jaladbhava agreed to be the guest of honour. Next, Kashyap contacted the chieftains and nobles of the kingdom and invited them to the great feast. Everyone was pleased with him. On the appointed day the sprawling lawns of the king’s palace were illuminated and bedecked with flowers. Exquisite multi-coloured floorings were spread all over the place. The royal musicians were in attendance and seats for the king and his nobles installed. It was a full moon night; a cool breeze blew from one end carrying with it the fragrance of jasmine and roses. A little away from the site, hidden behind the bushes was the cooking space where scores of cooks dressed in spotless white aprons cooked delicacies on burning logs.
Kashyap inspected the area and enquired about the progress. The chief cook told him that everything would be ready by the appointed hour. Kashyap returned to the lawns and attended to the last details. As he was enquiring about the drinks, the first guest arrived. Kashyap received the nobles and escorted them to their seats. The royal band began to play. The stream of guests continued to arrive and Kashyap was soon fully immersed in the fulfillment of the duties of a good host. The guests dressed in their best, women bedecked in jewellary and fine raiments were a sight to behold.When the majority of guests had arrived, Kashyap ordered the drinks, which were served in beautiful painted terracotta goblets. As a full moon shone on the distant horizon, the king was announced. He had driven up in a carriage pulled by eight well-groomed steeds and Kashyap went forward to receive the royal guests. He opened the door of the royal carriage and a smiling Jaladbhava and his queen alighted from the coach. Kashyap bowed in great supplication. The king held his hand and the queen flashed a smile at him. Kashyap ushered the royal visitors and escorted them to their seats. All the assembly of men and women stood up and bowed as their beloved king and queen passed by. Kashyap remained in attendance. He personally carried the goblets of wine to the royal couple. The king thanked him and conveyed his appreciation of the arrangements made. After a while the feast was served and the entire congregation began to eat the painstakingly prepared food. Kashyap remained busy moving from one row to another, enquiring after his guests, ensuring that they were all enjoying the meal. When the feast was halfway through, he quietly withdrew and headed towards the cooking enclosure. The dishes yet to be served were lined up. An attendant guarded the urns and vessels. Kashyapasked him to fetch the chief cook. As soon as the guard disappeared from his sight, he quickly brought out the vibhuti hidden in his belt and threw it into the steaming fish. Just as he had finished mixing the magical powder, the chief cook arrived.
An excerpt from Ayaz Rasool Nazki’s book SATISAR, THE VALLEY OF DEMONS published by Vitasta Publishing and the book is available on www.vitastapublishing.com
