To Dance On Your Fingertips - 1. Chapter 1

The women and girls around seventeen-year-old Somesh buzzed with obvious excitement. They rouged their cheeks, put on their dangliest earrings, and stacked on bangles nearly up to their elbows. Their faux jewels tinkled at their slightest movements, and the metallic-rosy scent of years-old perfumes hung in the air and in his lungs.

He coughed.

“Somesh,” Lila Bai said, grabbing him by the shoulder. “You call this clean? Do it again. I want to be able to see my reflection on these tables. Get a ladder and dust the chandelier, too. And don’t be half-assed about it! Take this rag and wipe every individual crystal.”

“Okay,” he said, eyes watering at the effort of suppressing more coughs.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, patting his head and then sauntering off in a haze of rose and sandalwood.

Somesh bent over the nearest table, rubbing vigorously at its surface, careful to wipe away every ring stain, every blotch of wine. Whoever was visiting the brothel must be important, he thought. The women were atwitter and already talking about how they’d snare the mysterious visitor and what they’d do with the money they’d make. He kept his ears peeled until he spotted Anju, a slender girl who’d barely entered adulthood. She was nice to him: she’d tell him what was happening.

He glanced around to ensure Lila Bai wasn’t watching him and moved towards her. “Anju,” he said, “who’s coming?”

She fiddled with her bangles, not looking at him. “A prince,” she said, voice soft, almost inaudible in the din around them. “The king’s second son.”

“Prince Salim?” He knew enough of the royal family to know the names of the king’s legitimate children. The second was Salim.

Anju shrugged. “I guess so.”

He looked at her closer. He was still a child, and she was nearly eighteen, so he strained his neck to get a good look at her expression. She seemed bored. “You’re not excited?” he asked. Even if all she did was serve drinks, she would certainly make a month’s worth of wages tonight; Prince Salim was notoriously generous with the royal funds.

She sighed. “I don’t think I’ll get much time with him and his entourage,” she said, voice rising a bit so Somesh didn’t have to strain his ears quite as hard. “There’s a hierarchy to these things. Lila Bai has dibs.”

“But she’s old,” he said. He didn’t mean it as an insult: it was just a fact. The henna she used to dye her hair could not longer hold back the mass of greys and whites.

“Don’t let her catch you saying that.”

“Boy!” he heard Lila Bai shriek from across the room; for a heart-stopping moment, he feared she’d heard him. “I told you to clean! Get a ladder and dust that chandelier before I have you caned!”

He slung his cleaning rag over his shoulder and hurried for the supply closet, dragging out an ancient and decaying ladder. The thing would no doubt leave splinters in the soles of his bare feet but he grit his teeth and climbed up. A sparkling clean chandelier for his royal highness coming right up, he thought irritably.

When dusk was just beginning to descend, the fanfare reached its peak: scented oils were rubbed into flesh and hair and the fragrance of the building sat upon Somesh like a second skin; food and drink was prepared (he helped in making an enormous vat of chai); and dozens of kohl-lined eyes stared out of various windows, eagerly eating up the sight of the prince descending from his carriage.

Somesh sat on the second floor, which overlooked the first, squatting low and gripping the metal railing bars with his hands. Prince Salim had a close-cropped beard and was of average height, his belly slightly soft and round, an indication of his indulgent lifestyle. He wore a deep blue sherwani with silver embroidery and a gold vest jacket. His turban was already slightly askew, before the party had even begun. Some of the men in his entourage were looking even more dishevelled.

He walked inside and was immediately presented with platters of foods—cheeses, fruits, berries, sweet desserts—and drink: aromatic wine, deeply red and viscous. He plucked a goblet from one of the trays and drank it down in three gulps. His friends cheered and reached for their own drinks.

Somesh felt a presence beside him. Anju also squatted down, looking at the scene below disinterestedly. “I’ve been delegated to the kitchen. I think it’s because I’m too pretty. I’d take all the attention off Lila.”

Somesh, secretly, was pleased Anju would not draw much attention from drunken leches. “I’ll go down there if he starts throwing coins around. I’m quick. I’ll grab enough for the both of us.”

It didn’t take long before the prince was flaunting his wealth. A woman was seated on his lap (Lila Bai had tried to climb onto his lap herself but was quickly dismissed) and Prince Salim was feeding her grapes. Every time she told him a raunchy joke he’d laugh uproariously, fishing out a handful of coins from his satchel and handing some to her and tossing the rest into the eager crowd. Somesh had secreted away two silver coins this way.

Ostensibly having bored with tossing coins, the prince removed a ring from his finger—it looked gold—and threw it into the air. Somesh developed tunnel vision and he leaped across the distance between himself and the prince, landing on the table, but empty-handed. He’d been too slow and the ring had been snatched from the air by someone else; he didn’t see who.

The prince was staring at him, a deep frown on his face. Oh no. Somesh’s face flushed hotly; he was really in for it now, he’d angered the prince, he’d get kicked out for sure—or worse, he’d go to jail—

“Aren’t you a little young to be here?” Prince Salim asked Somesh.

“No? I was born here,” Somesh said, affronted. He might be on the scrawny side, but he was nearly a man.

His face grew hotter when his words caught up with his brain. Stupid! So incredibly stupid! Was that any way to talk to a prince?

“He doesn’t do that,” Lila Bai said quickly, appearing behind him and hauling him off the table by the back of his shirt. He gagged as the shirt collar constricted his throat. “He cleans and cooks.”

That was true: he didn’t do that. At least not yet; the boys who did do that resented him for it, but Lila Bai had made his mother a promise and Somesh himself was rather adamant that he'd rather die in the gutter than do that.

“Don’t strangle the boy,” the prince said, and his frown was mostly gone, replaced with a curiously neutral expression. He was looking at Somesh again. “Boy, if you fetch me a hot chai, there’s a gold coin in it for you. And I mean hot.”

Somesh never moved so fast in his life. He was already imagining the look on Anju’s face when he handed her a gold coin. The ring might have slipped past his grasp but a coin was nearly as good!

He rekindled the hearth in the kitchen until the chai was smoking and boiling again and poured it into a tall clear glass. The heat of the glass was nearly scalding against his fingertips but that was what the prince wanted, wasn’t it?

The price had a new woman on his lap when Somesh returned and was distractedly rubbing her bare thigh while talking animatedly to a man seated across from him. Somesh set the chai in front of him and the prince produced a gold coin from his pocket and dropped it on the table—without even looking at him. Somesh snatched it away.

He noted that the price seemed to be in the midst of a game of dice. The man across from him, tumbling the dice in his cupped hands before letting them loose onto the table, which was now adorned with a cloth board game and several ivory pieces.

“Uff!” Prince Salim said, listing slightly to one side, nearly dislodging his companion from his lap. He was clearly intoxicated. “I’m so unlucky today.” He clumsily removed a pearl necklace from around his neck. “I’ll wager this and by the grace of God I will win back my brooch.”

The prince threw the dice and then frowned. Somesh didn’t know the rules of the game, but it appeared the prince was losing. His sharp cheekbones were pinked with wine and perhaps also embarrassment as he picked up one of his ivory pieces and moved it backward on the board.

It continued on for some time in this vein and Somesh stood there the whole time watching, hoping the prince will tell him to do some other menial task for a coin. He watched the prince win back his brooch and then lose it again, along with two strings of pearls, and his favourite hunting horse. He was frowning down at the board, no longer paying any attention to the beautiful women surrounding him.

His adversary—whom Somesh found was called Bismil—was in good spirits, grinning broadly as he threw the dice again. Except, he threw them a little too hard, the dice bouncing off the table and onto the floor near Somesh’s feet.

“I got them!” Somesh yelled. Maybe this will get him another coin! He got down onto his knees and swept his hands on the floor until he caught hold of both dice, one gripped in each fist.

Smiling, he was about to hand them to the man called Bismil. The man said, “What were the numbers?”

Somesh’s smile started to slip. “Huh?”

“The numbers!” Bismil said. “It still counts—what numbers were they?”

“Oh, I—I didn’t see, I thought you had to throw them again—” Panic was beginning to bubble in his gut, sweat beading on his temple. Oh no, no, no, stupid, stupid!

Prince Salim scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Let it go, Bismil, it’s not a big deal. You shouldn’t have thrown so hard. Just toss them again.”

“Give them here!” Bismil said and Somesh would have—he was going to—but when he held up his hands, something felt off. He turned his fists palm up and unwrapped his fingers from around each die. He moved his right hand down, just slightly.

Bismil snatched both dice from out of his hands but the damage was done. Prince Salim had seen. The prince’s face was stormy as he moved his arm out, palm open in front of Bismil’s face. The men that had been crowding around Bismil began to move away.

“Salim—your highness—”

Somesh didn’t fully grasp what was happening. He’d caused it but he didn’t understand.

A woman grabbed the dice out of Bismil’s hands and dropped them into the prince’s open palm.

The prince mirrored Somesh’s previous pose, weighing each die in each hand. He then nodded to a pair of burly men dressed in black and the two of them descended on Bismil, securing his arms behind his back. “Your highness, this is a misunderstanding! I meant no harm—a little trick—I was going to tell you and return everything! Please—we’ve been friends for so long and I—”

One of the burly men slammed Bismil’s head into the table once and he stopped talking. Somesh’s heart was jack-rabbiting in his chest, his breath erratic. The sound of Bismil’s head against the oak had been the loudest thing in the world.

A man—a guard—rifled through Bismil’s pockets until he produced another die—an original, one of the ones the prince had been using this whole time. He tossed it onto the table and lifted Bismil’s head up and the man had blood running down his chin, evidently having bit his tongue. He was still trying to gasp out apologies as he was taken away, out of the brothel and out into the streets.

Silence. Nobody moved.

And then, Lila Bai’s voice: “A loaded die! He had his own loaded die! What a disgraceful man!”

At once, everyone expressed their own outrage, soothing the prince with their words and their hands, massaging his shoulders and biceps, and offering pretty, pointless words of support.

The prince laughed and locked eyes with him. “Boy, you just saved me from losing my favourite horse. What’s your name?”

He could feel everyone's eyes on him and his skin prickled at the attention. “Somesh.”

“Well, Somesh, I think you’re good luck, and smart to boot.” He turned to the room and said, “Who will challenge me next? Somesh will blow on my dice.” He tossed the weighted die onto the floor and clutched the two unaltered dice in his hand.

Somesh’s heart was still beating wildly. He hadn’t even been thinking when he’d weighed the dice in his hands, it had just been so obvious one was heavier, he hadn’t even processed that Bismil had been switching one out before all the... violence happened.

He sidled up to the prince and blew on the dice when asked. He wondered what was happening to that foolish man who’d dare to cheat against someone so powerful. Would he be beaten? Or worse?

The night progressed and Somesh felt his eyes beginning to droop. The prince had retreated into a room some time ago, a woman on each arm, but he had instructed Somesh to stay right there, kneeling on a pillow next to the low table. He noted that some of Bismil’s blood had seeped into the wood grain.

Violence wasn’t new in a place like this, he thought, his mind tinged with bitterness. He should have learned to take it in stride by now.

Anju came up to him. “Lila Bai is quite pleased with you,” she said.

Somesh produced the gold coin from his shirt pocket and held it out to her.

She stared at it. After a moment, she took it. “You look half-asleep,” she went on.

“The prince told me to wait for him,” he said.

Anju’s brows furrowed. “Hm,” she said.

Anju hovered around him for the next hours, cleaning here and there and making idle chit-chat. When the prince finally reemerged, he looked startled to find Somesh still there, as if he’d forgotten about him. “Oh! My good-luck charm. You’re coming with me.”

Anju whirled around from where she was pretending to straighten the curtains. She didn’t say anything but Lila Bai did. “Your highness, he’s... He’s been here for so long, and I’m practically a mother to him...” No, not at all, Somesh thought. “If you wish to... use him, we could come to an arrangement within these walls.”

“You witch!” Anju said but she was immediately quieted by two other women who were nearby. Lila Bai glared at all three of them.

Somesh’s face was burning and he clenched his fists at his sides.

Prince Salim looked deeply affronted. “What the fuck?” he said.

A young man—one of the prince’s friends—laughed from where he was laying near a window.

“I meant no offence—” Lila Bai started.

“I am greatly offended,” the prince said. “As punishment, I’m taking the boy and you will not be compensated one cent. He is to be an attendant.” He looked at Somesh. “For saving my horse from my own foolishness, you will come live with my servants in the city. I assure you it’s preferable to this prettified squalor.”

Somesh thought his eyes must have been bulging from his head. He looked to Anju, who nodded, just once.

“I—I’d have to pack up,” he managed to say.

“Hurry,” the prince said. He then motioned to his guards to start rousing his drunken friends.

Somesh met Anju’s eyes and the two of them made their way to one of the sleeping chambers, which contained Somesh’s cot and just an armful of his clothes.

“You really want me to leave?”

Anju’s eyes were piercing, so large, her sclera so white against her dark skin. She reminded him suddenly of the goddess Kali. “You heard Lila. If you stay here you’ll be whored out sooner or later, whether you like it or not. Just like the rest of us.”

His heart was in knots. “I’ll ask him if you can come with us!”

“Don’t,” she said, grabbing him by his narrow shoulders. “There are limits to generosity. Don’t give him any reason not to like you, not yet.”

“Sister,” he said helplessly, his eyes burning.

She gave his shoulders a firm squeeze. She wasn’t really his sister—but she was kind, and talked to him often and told him to leave the premises when men with unspeakable desires came knocking.

They bundled up Somesh’s few clothes and a small idol of Krishna into a sack. “This is a good thing,” Anju said firmly while tying the sack up. “You’ll see. Even the servants live in relative luxury at the palace. You’ll forget all about this place in no time.”

“I won’t,” he said, voice strangled and quiet.

When they returned to the atrium, all of the prince’s friends had been picked up off the floor by the guards and ostensibly carried off into the carriages waiting outside. The prince himself was gone and a tall, slim man stood waiting by the doors, his hands clasped behind his back. He nodded at Somesh.

Off to the side, Lila Bai stood with a group of women; she glared at the tall man while muttering something to her sycophantic audience.

Anju pushed him forward, nearly causing him to trip and fall on his face.

“Hurry up,” the tall man said. He spoke with absolutely no intonation, his affect perfectly flat.

Somesh hurried around, stepping out across the threshold from his old world into the next one, the cool night air immediately causing his skin to goose pimple.

He was loaded into a carriage that mostly consisted of eunuchs, who were laughing boisterously and swapping gossip and stories of intrigue. Somesh’s head was beginning to hurt and despite the noise and the bumpy road, he closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.