Sikander, Don't Die

chapter four: the ring

The Shah loved pomegranates and myrtle.

This was why, after being washed like a princess and her hair dried with the smoke of incense and the rays of the sun, Roshanak was made to sprinkle a perfume of the same flavour.

Unlike her childhood dreams, Roshanak's marriage was deadly quiet. It was like a ship stuck in the middle of the ocean, no shore to see on four sides. There was silence and loneliness. The breeze smelled of impending death and dread. Even though Roshanak's home wasn't close to the sea, evaporated tears made the air salty and sad, akin to the winds of the coast.

The servants, with long, pale faces and eyes coated with kohl thick enough to not melt with tears, made Roshanak wear bangles and necklaces. She put on a kandys, the colour of the reddish-brown rocks and coral red. Embroidered on it were intricate motifs, so detailed that one could boast of it being a gift from Athena herself. Sewing was not seen as a respectable hobby among the royals and nobles of Persian origin, like Roshanak, whose father traced his roots to the Achaemenid dynasty, but among the Greeks and Macedonians, where Shah Sikander truly belonged, sewing was a skill possessed by talented women.

Roshanak's lips were coated a light red, modest yet alluring, and orange dabbed over her eyes. They let her dense black hair down and adjusted a glinting golden veil atop her head. Then, they put on a red headdress, and a band of gold coins around her forehead. Roshanak looked in the mirror– she had not adorned herself so heavily ever. She had dreamt of such a look on her marriage day, but she had also dreamt of happiness along with the same. The luxury was provided, although the charm was missing.

After the embellishments were done, the servants left her room. Roshanak soaked her tears into the veil, her heart thudding wildly. She felt jittery, fingers quivering as she tried to grab a chalice of wine to moisten the throat. Just when she was about to drink it, a hand caught her.

It was Mellisa, her mother. "Do not drink today. Not before the marriage."

Roshanak kept down the chalice. She had seen her mother come inside the room, but all the while she was being dressed up, Melissa didn't talk. Even now she looked yellow with fear. Her hands were cold against Roshanak's blood-pumped palms.

"Why did you make me dance?" Roshanak asked. "This day wouldn't have come otherwise."

Melissa sat beside Roshanak, taking her hands into hers. "You know what these conquerors do?"

Roshanak remained silent.

"They ensalve. They kill. If not his wife, you would have been his slave. That is definitely not your fate."

"You have made me a very rich slave."

Melissa winced. "Roshanak, this was the best decision. My plan was to attract the Shah's attention towards you. Men fall for beauty easily, and the gods have blessed you with more than plenty for a lifetime. Your youth will never fade away. You will be his first wife and the Queen of Persia. Even if he marries again, your status will be above everyone."

Roshanak didn't tell Melissa the words of Odile. She was going to leave her parents, and to leave them in the lap of harmony was all she wanted.

"At least you will live better in Persia. He is the Shah of the world."

"Maa, did Baba not agree to this marriage?"

"He was against giving your hand to this man. He wanted you to marry in his community, live close to us. Omkara doesn't understand that women aren't born to stay by their parents' side for the whole life. They must be freed and allowed to grace the door of another family."

"That's why he had asked me to be veiled, so that the Shah didn't see my face."

Alas, he had already before that, Roshanak thought.