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Chapter 7: Dream a Little Dream of Me
Cinnamon, myrrh, and other strong, exotic scents snapped Dhandi back into awareness as she walked into the cavernous tent, decorated with rich fabrics draping from the ceiling and alive with the sounds of sensuous music and the vivid hum of speech and raucous laughter. The women, dressed scantily in rich, deep colors and jewelry that hung from their forms, curled into the laps of men, stroking their partners suggestively as they purred. Dhandi rubbed her shoulder, growing uncomfortable, only to find that her own attire was just as scant. Gone was her unassuming orange dress; her top was of a transparent, flimsy material that if it were not the clever placement of draping strings of pearls, she could almost swear that she was topless, and her harem pants were of a vivid shade of violet with short slits down along its length, exposing her the skin of her shivering thighs. She quickly placed her arms across her chest, her face now turning beet red.
She had accidentally backed into the snake charmer, his cobra spitting at her from between its master's legs, when she felt a hand upon her bare shoulder. She gasped as she turned and looked at the hand's owner, a young man, perhaps fifteen of age like her. The young man in dark blue held out his cape and bowed respectfully before her. The alarm she had eased into curiosity as she reached her hand to his face. That long, thin face was so familiar. Her finger twirled playfully one of the black curls that got loose from his turban. She looked into his dark eyes that, to her shock, were focused on her small chest.
Disgusted, she pulled her hand away, but the young man caught it and held it firmly against his chest.
"I'm not made of stone," he said to her, pressing her hand closer. She felt the throbbing of his heart, in tune with the timbrel's steady beat. "I bet you got one somewhere in there too."
He then placed her hand against her chest and pressed down firmly. Dhandi's heart beat against her ribcage, like a bird thrashing against the bars of its cage.
"Nervous little thing," he smirked, removing his hand, "aren't you? Maybe we can fix that."
Dhandi turned away, but she could feel his hand gripping firmly around her wrist. She turned back to him to protest, but, glancing at his serene expression, words fail to form. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he gently pulled her back to his side. Why couldn't she run away? She shouldn't be this helpless, easily falling for this persistent courter.
Maybe she knew him. That face was familiar enough. He seemed to know her skin just as well. Is this body even her own? She had never felt as uncomfortable with herself as before. Perhaps he was mistaking her for someone else, someone more confident in herself and her surroundings.
Dhandi clung to the man's chest, his heartbeat beating steadily. The rest of the tent seemed to disappear as she listened, his heartbeat hypnotically calm. She didn't notice his fingers running through her coarse hair.
"Now, that wasn't so bad," he whispered to her, "was it, Dhandi?"
"Dhandi?" Dhandi asked, looking up. The young man sniggered, amused. Embarrassed, the girl blushed and smiled uneasily as she backed away. "I-I'm so sorry. I forgot myself for moment."
"It doesn't really matter here," he replied, stretching his hand to her. Dhandi looked at it for a moment and hesitantly placed her hand in his. Grasping it firmly, he led her to a corner of the tent, a small, low table resting in the center of a ring of cushions.
"But, where is here?" Dhandi asked as she sat down in front of the table. "Or even what?"
"A wedding," the young man explained, sitting down and pulling out a covered terracotta bowl from his cape.
Confused, Dhandi looked around. She shook her head as she glanced at a couple, enjoying their licks of the other's fragrant skin. How strange of place to have a wedding! Men and women cuddling each other like animals, in attire befitting more to a loose night in a king's unguarded harem.
"Whose wedding is it?" she asked the young man. He looked up from his bowl, stirring with a brush. Dhandi leaned over, the strong, earth-scent of the paste tickling her nose. "What's that?"
"Henna paste," the young man explained, "nothing more." He tapped the brush on the rim of the bowl, paste dribbling down its side. "Hold out your hand."
Dhandi looked at the contents of the bowl. Was henna supposed to be this black? Unresisting, she held out her hand and the young man took it.
"There's this old tradition," he said, dipping the brush into the paste. "The night before a wedding, the couple writes their names into the designs that they paint on each others' hands. Whoever finds the other's name first, the name's owner has to reward the finder."
Dhandi thought for a moment and then smiled playfully. "All right, if I find your name first, you have to kiss me."
"And you'll give me that kiss if I find your name first," the young man smirked. Dhandi nodded as the young man pressed the tip of the brush upon her palm. Dhandi squirms in her seat as she tried to keep her hand steady. The henna felt cold as he continued to paint delicate decorative lines. Dhandi rubbed her head with her free hand. Her brain was pounding. Something seemed to be missing to her.
"Your turn," the young man replied, as he handed Dhandi the brush. She blew on her painted hand and dipped the brush into the henna paste with her other hand. She made the mental picture of her design, tracing it in the air just above the young man's hand. Drops of henna dripped upon his palm and Dhandi winced at her mistake.
"Don't give up," he said reassuringly. "Connect them."
Dhandi gingerly pressed the brush down and glided it upon his palm, slightly crooked lines of varying thicknesses the result. Soon his hand was nearly covered by her curlicues and little strayed henna dots.
"Don't forget your name," the young man reminded her. Dhandi began scanning his hand and found a tiny little clear space just below his thumb. She bit her lip as she recalled the name of the letters in her name.
"...dhāl..," she wrote the first letter of her name, followed by, "...'alif...hā'...dāl..."
As she finished last dots of "...yā'..," she rested her head upon her hand. Then she felt strong yet sweet drink sloshing against her lips.
"Drink," the young man said to her, holding up a bronze cup to her lips. Dhandi looked at the contents and sipped, the sweet, acidic drink burning her throat as it went down. It reminded her of when she accidentally dropped a piece of honey candy into a barrel of pickle brine and sucked on it after fishing it out. However strange the taste was to her, she took another sip. Low giggles ensued when the young man took the cup from her.
"I really liked that," she half-whined. As he took a swig from the cup, she squinted at her painted hand. "...'alif-mīm-yā'-rā'..." she spelled it aloud before chuckling; now knowing. "Your name is Amir."
"I guess I would owe you a kiss," Amir grinned, "if I hadn't found yours first. Just below my thumb." He held up his hand and pointed to that exact place.
"No fair," Dhandi laughed, "you cheated."
"How do I know you didn't peek?"
Dhandi chuckled, holding back drunken laughter. "Fine. Hold still."
She leaned forward, eyes closed. Her lips are puckered, prepared to his lips. Suddenly, she wobbled and fell, sprawling on the table. She looked around frantically for Amir when her eyes fell on an hourglass, sand running out steadily. What did that hourglass mean to her?
Dhandi ran to where she entered. She drew back the curtain and her eyes widened as the deception unveiled. She knocked upon the clear, curved glass before dreaded realization set in.
She and the party were inside an hourglass.
Panicking, Dhandi pushed against the glass, perchance it might break. Suddenly, she felt the hourglass move. She tumbled as the tiny little world was turned upside down. The "wedding guests" screamed as the center of the bulb began to swirl and sucked the traces of a ruined orgy down into the void. Dhandi frantically began crawling away from the vortex, but a mixture of soft sand and a strong current sent her sinking down, getting closer to the void.
Then she just vanished.
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A/N: My guess is that this brought the rating up a notch.
And now, a thing about the Arabic alphabet and the differences in pronouncing names in two different languages. There are 28 letters in the Arabic alphabet and not all of them have an English alphabet equivalent. Believe me when I say that I am not an expert or even fluent in Arabic. Anyhoo, there is only three vowels, if you count "y". So, translated, Amir would be "Amyr" or Dhandi would be "Dhandy" and even Dhandi wouldn't sound like it starts with a "d". It would sound like "Th-on-dee". As far as I know, there is no official spelling for her name, though it has been spelled as "Dondi" as well. So, I apologize for a novice attempt at learning how to spell in Arabic if there are those who are better versed in the language than I am.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.