One
Being the king’s sister - his beloved sister to whom he felt a kind of queer sense of passion the way those old magi used to feel about their sisters in the ancient times – Meha never dared to express the hot love she felt about the rover homeless musician who usually wandered along the long endless streets of Baghdad playing his sitar which was a heritage of his late ladylove and of course to be honest I should also mention that the late part of story was something Meha did not knew now.
Every day, at sunset, when the pale sun was striving to death on the horizons to which the long streets joined and made them shaking and obscure, the musician made the people hear such a sad woeful song that every listener was made to cry and moan, mourning for an unknown lost and passed away beloved whom everybody would imagine in his or her own most secret closets of mind in a very weird way. Nobody knew who is producing the sound of the words in the song; some vague non-understandable whispers companied by the musician’s magic music. The song was already named as the song of sunset being played exactly while the torches were being lit one after another by the old creepy torch-keepers and the far sound of Muezzins being heard of the farthest minaret in the central mosque of Baghdad calling for the prayer of sunset. King Khalid burping after his long afternoon carousal, having his mouth rinsed and perfumed with the fragrance produced of a kind of a rare rose – grown up in a remote land behind the mountains of the north in a place it is said that is all in the absolute darkness - departed the green castle of Abu-Bet for the mosque of the central square to perform the ceremonies of sunset prayers and that was just the time for Meha to take her newly bought sitars and play them in an ridiculous amateur way. She thought about asking his brother to invite the homeless musician to become her teacher of sitar. It could be risky but if worked, could also be the best way to reach her beloved man. Of course it was useless to deal with an instrument she never touched it before and did not know how to use it. That was why she usually became confused and threw the instrument angrily on the ground and broke it in pieces. It was an everyday story and she was about to break the routine.
That night when Khalid returned from the mosque, she went to his room and found him sat on the edge of his bed, at a table of supper and Kaneeza the slave girl on his thighs was putting the morsels of the supper into his mouth. She could see the shine of his greasy moustache -- as a result of the slave girl’s inattention -- from behind the silk tassels of the curtain in the entrance hall of the room. The only lights in the room was the green light of a Chinese bubble on the drawer aside his bed, and the weak going to be dimmed moonlight of a magic blue creeping into the room from behind both the thick autumn clouds and the long thin curtains covering the two sides of a window of three men’s height tall, and the third light was a dying yellow light supposed to be coming from her back, dragging into the room through the half open door of his room. She cleared her throat and that caused the slave girl to jump down involuntarily off his master’s thighs and consequently the king stood up staring at the shaking shadows of the entrance: ‘who’s in there?’
Their little debauchery had been ruined.
‘It’s me, Meha!’
Khalid smiled and went to the shadows, embraced her firmly and kissed the right corner of her lips –whereon exactly a very tiny nipple-like mole existed – like a maniac whoremonger, saying: ‘Oh my sister! You’ve come just in the right time. I need you. I want to tame a shrewish doggy slave come from the farthest islands of the Atlantic and I want you to be the mistress of our mirth.’
‘Good idea!’ whispered she. ‘You know what I like to do in your nights?’
‘No idea! Tell me my little sister!’ Squeezing her breasts, he sighed.
‘I love to play sitar while you make love or when you sleep.’ She moaned tittering. ‘Don’t do that please!’
‘You love me?’ The going crazy brother breathed out. ‘Come on Meha! Tell me! You love me?’
‘Of couse I love you’ Meha said. ‘And you know that!’
Meha noticed Kaneeza the slave girl was staring at them.
‘Come on Khalid!’ murmured she. ‘The girl is watching us!’
‘That is …’ distinctly said it he ‘…exactly what I mean!’
The slave girl smiled charmingly and sent a kiss for her. Meha smiled back embarrassedly and strived to pull his weight off her body.
‘I want to learn it!’ repeated she ‘I want to play it when you do this to a …’
‘It sounds good!’ interrupted he ‘when do you begin to learn it?’
‘…As soon as I can find a teacher.’ she said, bringing her glistening pink rouged lips near to his, and gasped: ‘They say there is a homeless sitar player in the city…’
‘I know whom do you mean!’ Suddenly he left the ultra-divine breasts and stepped backward to the bed. ‘The stinky wanderer you mean!’
She could hear her own heartbeats, fearing if the king could hear it either! Right in front of her shaky heart, Khalid remained gloated at her for moments and meanwhile the slave girl approached him from behind and suddenly hugged his waist and made him laugh.
‘You, the little bitch of Cyprus!’ urning back to Kaneeza, groaned he passionately and a bit later, turned his face to Meha and said:
‘He can’t enter our house …’
He paused and began to kiss Kaneeza in her lips and slid his tongue over hers and after minutes of wildly kissing, he turned to his sister and continued:
‘Unless he washes and cleans himself!’
And for an unknown reason, he burst into laughter.
Meha took a fresh breathe and thankful to his majesty, left the room walking on the clouds! He was going to call the chief guard of the castle to summon the homeless musician. That night she dreamed that the full moon descended on the pool in the yard of the castle, near the marble sundial and went into the water. A little later, she saw the moon was coming out of her mouth. What was that dream for? What did this dream mean? She never revealed her dream to anyone. The destiny had to accomplish as full as it could.
Next day, the musician was in her room.
(to be continued...)
