The Moghul

anguish.
    "This is a special evening. I have decided to dance Bharata Natyam one last time, for Lord Shiva."
    "What do you mean, one last time?"
    She seemed to stare past him for a moment, then she slowly turned. "I'm truly glad you've come. To be here tonight. I would have waited for you, but there was no time. And I wondered if you would really understand. Perhaps I was wrong. Bharata Natyam is never only for the dancer. So it is good you are here. Perhaps it was meant to be. Perhaps you can understand something of what I feel tonight."
    "I haven't understood much that's happened tonight so far." Hawksworth settled his brandy bottle awkwardly onto the carpet and forced himself to bring her into focus.
    "You do not seem yourself, my feringhi Sahib." She studied him for a moment. "Did you hear sad news of your Persian woman?"
    "Nothing. But I'm afraid I've just lost my best chance to save her."
    "I don't understand."
    "It's not your trouble." He examined her wistfully. "It seems I'll be leaving Agra sooner than I thought. So dance if you want, and then I'll wish you well."
    "Your trouble is always my trouble." She frowned as she studied him. "But you are leaving? So soon?" She seemed not to wait for an answer as she went on. "Never mind, I've never understood the affairs of ambassadors and kings. But our parting must not be sad. Let my dance to Shiva be my farewell to you."
    She turned and signaled to the flautist, who began a low-pitched, poignant melody. "Have you ever seen the Bharata Natyam?"
    "Never." Hawksworth sipped more brandy from the bottle and found himself wishing he could send them all away and play a suite on his lute, the one he had played for Shirin that day at the observatory.
    "Then it may be difficult for you to comprehend at first. With my body and my song I will tell Lord Shiva of my longing for him. Do you think you can understand it?"
    "I'll try." Hawksworth looked up at her and again sensed some great sadness in her eyes.
    She examined him silently for a moment. "But I want you to understand. Not the words I sing, they're in ancient Sanskrit, but if you watch my hands, they will also speak. I will sing to Lord Shiva, but I give life to his song with my eyes, my hands, my body. I will re-create the poem with my dance. My eyes will speak the desire of my heart. The language of my hands will tell my longing for Lord Shiva. My feet will show the rhythms by which he brings order to the world. If you will try to feel what I feel, perhaps Lord Shiva will touch you and lighten your burden."
    "And this is called Bharata Natyam? What does that mean?" Hawksworth slipped off his mud-smeared boots and wearily tossed them next to the carpet.
    "The ancient temple dance of India is Bharata Natyam: bhava means mood, raga means song, tala means rhythm. All these are brought together in the dance. Natyam means the merging of dance and story. The true Bharata Natyam has seven movements: some are called pure dance and these are only rhythms, but some also tell a story. If I were to dance them all, as I would in the temple, I would have to dance all night." She tried wanly to smile. "But not now. Tonight I am not so strong. Tonight I will dance only the Varnam, the most important movement. In it I will tell the story of how the goddess Parvati, Shiva's beloved consort, longs for her lord. If I dance well I will become Parvati, and through the story of her love for Shiva, I will tell my own."
    "So it's really just a love song?"
    "It is Parvati's song of longing for her lord. The words are very simple.

    "Great with love for you this night.
    Am I, oh Lord.
    Do not avert yourself from me.
    Do not tease me, do not scorn me,
    Oh great, oh beautiful God
    Of the Brihadishwari temple.
    Great God who gives release
    From the sorrows of the world . . ."

    Kamala paused to tighten the straps securing the bells around her ankles. "The song goes on to say that she cannot bear even to hear the voice of the nightingale now that she is separated from her Lord Shiva. She cannot endure the dark night now that he has taken himself from her."
    "It's a very touching love song." Hawksworth found himself thinking again of Shirin, and of the dark nights they had both endured.
    "It is really much more. You see, Lord Shiva is her beloved, but he is also her god. So her song also praises the beauty of the great Shiva in all his many aspects: as her own consort, as one who has the Third Eye of Knowledge, as the great God of the Dance,