Kathak is a classical North Indian dance form that I've been doing for 11 years, class every week, studio an hour away one-way. I'm dedicated to it. In any case, but I decided to set this in British courts in India. The historical facts say that Kathak wasn't performed much after the Moguls, but here it is. And normally, courtesans are female. Keep that in mind :) If anyone wants more information, PM me please! I will include Kathak terms that I'll explain at the end.

Levi

I sat on my throne, feeling the gentle breeze of the maids that waved fans to keep away the flies. My father, the king of this region of India, sat on the main throne, watching as the diplomats from a neighboring kingdom came in. I watched, bored as anything as poems were read in my father's praise, speeches given, god, it was depressing. They brought in gifts of gold and jewels. I saw emeralds and diamonds and rubies and sapphires. My father smiled appreciatively as the one of the diplomats introduced a performance of Kathak. Great, another boring dance. Don't get me wrong, Kathak's great and all, but honestly, I was not looking forward to watching a Kathak dancer doing the same sequences in Hindi. I looked around and leaned on my pale hand, utterly uninterested. I heard the sound of the harmonium and the tablas, along with a singer's voice calling attention with long, smooth notes. I heard the jingling of ghungroos, probably 100 of them per foot if the dancer was performing here. That was the normal number for a courtesan. I glanced over to the courtesan to see if watching her was worth my time. She sat on the floor, dressed in a purple and silver angarakha, silver jewelry adorning her hands and head. Her hair was covered by the cloth and a long brown braid hung down her back. The skirt was spread around her and one foot and ankle covered with the ghungroos was stretched out from under the skirt. Her hands held a dupatta over her face and the other end of it covered the lower half of her face. She looked out from under the cloth as the singer began warbling in Sanskrit. And I couldn't look away.

The courtesan's eyes were a bright green, more potent than the emeralds I had seen earlier. The stared at me above the cloth that covered her nose and mouth. She flipped her hands out and her expression changed as the Sanskrit continued. I didn't understand any of the words but I understood the expressions this courtesan made. She locked eyes with me and rose with fluid grace, expression flirtatious yet serious. Her hands moved with precision as her long fingers rolled, stuck together, no gap showing between them. She moved towards the main throne and did a salaam to my father, her jewelry glistening. She backed up, eyes expressive. She launched into tatkar that made me catch my breath. It was lightning fast and her feet slapped against the marble floor in sharp contrast to the chiming of her bells. She held her skirt in her hands drawing attention to her feet. I looked up to see her eyes locked onto me, a slight crinkling at the corners my only clue that she was smiling. I'd never known a Kathak dancer that covered her face, but then again, I'd never seen a Kathak dancer with this much grace and beauty. It was like the Hindu goddess Laxmi had poured all her beauty into this one dancer. The courtesan started doing chakras, whirling like a hurricane. She stuck her position, whirling so fast her angarakha spread like a fan, revealing slim legs in purple pants, like it was supposed to. I looked at her face. She stared seriously at me, eyes direct.

She kept dancing in the hall, finally directing her attention to others seated in the hall, but she still looked at me more than was warranted. When she finally stuck the main pose and the Sanskrit words finally faded away, I couldn't even clap. She had literally stolen my ability to think independently. All I could think about was her smoldering eyes, her perfect form, her grace.

Her eyes crinkled as my father gave her praise. She gave another salaam and then walked backwards out of the room to where a few other women stood. They all left, giggling and grinning happily around that one special dancer. She turned her head to lock eyes with me one last time, and something foreign crossed them as her eyes darkened from their potent emeralds to grass on a stormy day. It looked like... Sorrow.


"Did you enjoy the performance, Levi?" my father asked me at dinner.

"Yes sir, I've never seen anything like it," I answered, swallowing the food in my mouth.

"You did very well," he addressed the courtesan. Courtesans were never allowed to dine with the royal family and diplomats, but an exception had been made for this green-eyed dancer.

Her eyes crinkled above the cloth that always covered her lower face and she looked at the woman who sat next to her.

"She's grateful for your praise," the woman said. She was a good deal shorter than the dancer.

"Why won't you speak?" my father asked.

The dancer looked quickly at the woman, a little fear entering her eyes.

"She dislikes her voice. She wants only to be judged by her dancing," the woman replied.

"Is there something we could call her?" I asked, watching the Kathak dancer. Her eyes dropped shyly to her plate, their green amplified by the white tunic and pants she wore. They were almost play clothes for normal Indian women, except these were richly embroidered with gold thread. The white cloth that covered her lower face remained unmoved as the food on her plate was untouched.

"Call her Sikari," the woman answered, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Sikari," I murmured, loving the way it tasted on my lips. Sikari looked up at me, eyes glinting with mirth.

"Why aren't you eating?" my father asked.

"She prefers not to show her face in public," the woman answered.

I looked at the woman. "What should we call you?"

"Just call me Carla," she smiled.

"Are you British? You have that accent," my father commented.

"No, German, but I lived among British people for a long time," she answered. I noticed she had the same skin tone as Sikari, the same hands, the same nose shape (from what I could see of Sikari's nose).

"Are you two related?" I asked.

"Sikari's my daughter. I've an adopted one back in Germany with her father. She wants to be a composer. Sikari's the only one who wanted to learn Kathak. I'm glad she did," Carla answered. Sikari glanced down at Carla, her gaze sharp. Carla looked up and sighed at her daughter. Sikari looked back up to meet my gaze. The corners of her eyes crinkled.


"Sikari's a wonderful dancer," my mother commented as she and my father escorted me to my room, a sure sign that they had something serious to tell me.

"What is it?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against my doorframe.

"Levi," Mother chastised, but Father held up a hand to silence her.

"Levi, I saw how you looked at Sikari at dinner," he started. "And I want you to know that relationships between courtesans and royalty are forbidden. You know that."

I felt my heart sink a little into my stomach, but kept my expression neutral, something I had a lot of practice with since my parents were mostly inattentive to me.

"I want you to know that because Sikari will be a permanent resident at this court now."

My heart sank even further. Not only was I not allowed to be with her, but they would torture me but making me see her every day.

"Yes Father," I murmured, and backed into my bedchamber, my heart in my feet.

I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Sikari. My father and mother were unfortunately right. I was fancying Sikari. I'd fallen for her grace, her lithe movements, her green eyes, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled, the only indication she smiled. Her beauty was extreme, and I hadn't even seen her entire face. I sighed and rolled over, praying for sleep to come quickly. And while it did, my dreams were filled with those potent eyes.

Harmonium- an box shaped instrument with a keyboard and the sound comes out when air is pumped through the instrument using a kind of fanned pump. One hand pumps the instrument, the other plays the keyboard.

Tablas- a set of two drums, one for a deep bass sound, the other for a sharp tap.

Ghungroos- bells worn around the ankles of Kathak dancers. They're the size of grapes, and made of brass. They're attached to a rope that's wound around the ankle. Most dancers start out with 25 per foot, then advance to 50, then 75, then 100 per foot. I wear 100 currently. Most women wear 100 per foot because of stature, while men wear 200-250 per foot.

Angarakha- traditional performance outfit with a pleated skirt that flares out when Kathak dancers turn.

Dupatta- a scarf

Salaam- an Islamic greeting (Kathak is influenced heavily by Mogul culture, therefore Islamic culture). A person sups their right hand and brings it close to their face while bowing.

Tatkar- footwork that has many variations

Chakras- quick spins

Message me if you have questions! And btw, Sikari is Gujarati for "hunter".