It was truly a bazaar; perfumed women squatted in their stalls in front of mounds of silk, cases of jewellery fashioned in gold and silver, toys, perfumes, ivory carvings, little marble statues. The air was sweet with their voices and laughter, and the soft sounds of music. My presence was immediately acknowledged and the women by the entrance laughed and clapped. Their eyes were bold and inviting, each calling to me to buy from her stall alone, some tugging at my sleeves like the chokras in a real bazaar. See my wares, sample this; it is cheap, especially for Shah Jahan. Look at this silk.... here is a vase from Bengal. Their very lives could have depended on the sale, such was their enthusiasm. I strolled through the lanes, noting the faces and bodies, some pretty, others not, old and young, thin and fat. They were all boisterous, bawdy, like birds set free from their cages, wheeling and chirping in the garden. Their chattering was incessant, a torment to me, and it was by chance, to avoid a persistent lady, that I turned away.

How can I explain the sudden helplessness, the suffocation of all my senses? She knelt in the lane beyond, quiet and alone, remote from the tamasha. True, it was her beauty, a perfect oval face, large eyes, a mouth like a budding rose and, in her shining black hair, a single strand of jasmine, that caught my eye, but it was her serenity that held me. She looked this way and that, seeing everything, and all with great amusement. A smile rose gently to her face, from within, quite unlike the shallow laughter of the other women. I saw what no other possessed: honesty. I felt that if I spoke, she would listen to me, and not hear the prince. My heart, my heart, it pained with beating, and when she turned and saw me through the opening, it stopped. I was truly afraid - and not even all the might I could command in this world could control the burst of fear - that she would turn away from me. I sensed immediately that any disinterest in her would not arise from flirtation, but from true indifference. Suddenly, I was no longer afraid. She remained still, looking at me, curious, amused and what is it? - I felt as if we touched.

I cannot recall how I reached her side. I was there, and saw that her stall sold silver jewellery, a small and humble offering, and that she was assisted by a chokra. I could not contain myself; I was bursting with words and feelings.

'I felt as if we touched.' I spoke loudly, swiftly, unable to control the authority of my tongue which was more used to commanding than to revealing my heart. I tried again. 'But it was not possible at that distance. Yet I felt your arm gently on mine. To love swiftly is to chance life itself. It is a leap of trust like entering a battle without the protection of armour, believing that somehow you cannot be killed. But even if you were killed, mere existence would not be worth it without you. You must tell me who you are. I must hear your voice and know you are truly real and not a dream that will disappear like water in this heat.'

'Arjumand Banu, your highness.'

Her voice was incense, soft, sweetly rising in the air.

Unsettled by my intense stare, she lowered her eyes in modesty and began to bow in obeisance. It was enough to cause my heart to ache and I reached swiftly to stop her, touching her bare shoulder. I felt as if I had been struck.

'Your skin burns me, and causes my heart to beat like the drum of war.'

'Your highness only tells me what I already feel.' It seemed then she slated her head and brushed the back of my hand with her cheek. 'It is possibly the heat in the air.'

'No, no. That only strikes our surface, causing us some little discomfort. This enters deep into the flesh, simmering my heart, muddling my mind. I do not even know of what I speak.

'The words are sweet, your highness,' she moved gently, and my hand fell away. I still felt the seductive softness of her cheek, like a brand pressed into my skin. 'Your tongue is too practised to stumble at the sight of a girl.'

'Here,' I snatched my dagger out. 'If it lies, cut it out. I cannot help its sweetness. It curls through the feelings in my heart and the only sound I can hear in my head is the blood repeating: "Arjumand.... Arjumand." Did you not feel the same when we first looked at each other?"

'Yes, your highness. But it feels as if I have returned to sleep and entered the dream....'

'What dream?'

'I cannot tell it all. But when I awoke this morning, I felt as I did when I first saw you here.' She searched my face carefully, seeing beyond skin and bone, gazing through my own eyes at what lay inside: 'You are real. This isn't still the dream.'

I knelt down in front of her, as she too kneeled in her stall, and eagerly put out my hand for her touch.

'Feel the fever of my body again. You're awake, like me.'

Shyly she touched my hand, and once more we sensed in each the shock. It seemed the lightning that lit the skies in the monsoons leaped between us. I wished us to remain touching, but she withdrew, convinced now we were together and not separate in different dreams.

'I will sit here forever and look on you.'

She laughed, and the gentle sound made me feel as if I were tumbling through the notes of some strange and lovely music.

'We will grow old then, just staring at one another.'

'What better life could we have? I wish it were day, with the sun full on you. These shadows cheat me. They bend your nose, and yet it is perfect. They darken your eyes, and yet I know they are clear and beautiful. But even they cannot change the shape of your mouth or the curve of your cheek.'

'Do you only see so little of me? There are countless others in this palace who far surpass my beauty.'

'No. None can do that. What they reveal lies only on the surface. I see beyond your eyes and your face. I feel that I have known you all my life, and yet I know nothing. I cannot help but thank god that I saw you on this evening.'

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