The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [314]
Certainly Jhoti would never have thought of it, and it occurred to Ash that if, as Mulraj seemed to think, the gods were on the boy's side, it was a pity that they had remained uninterested in the fate of his sisters, for had they removed Nandu a year earlier none of this would have happened. True, he himself would not have met Anjuli again – though in the circumstances, that would surely have been far better for both of them. But at least Shushila would have been happier and Biju Ram would still be alive; and as Jhoti took after his father's side of the family, he would not have worried his head over imaginary rivals or wasted the revenues of his state in showing off to his fellow princes – as Nandu had done when he sent that preposterously large bridal camp traipsing across half India.
Yet even now, waiting to see Anjuli leave for her husband's house, he could not feel sorry that he had met her again, and known her and loved her. The pain of loss and the prospect of the long, empty years ahead could not outweigh that, or make it less wonderful to him; and he knew that if he had been able to foresee the future when he first discovered the Rajkumari Anjuli of Karidkote, whom he was escorting to her wedding in Bhithor, was none other than little Kairi-Bai of the Queen's balcony, it would have made no difference at all. He would still have handed her his half of the luck-charm – and accepted the consequences with gladness and gratitude.
Wally, who was always falling in and out of love, had been fond of quoting lines that some poet or other had written, to the effect that it was ‘better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’. Well, Wally – and Tennyson, or whoever it was – had been right. It was better, infinitely better, to have loved Juli and lost her than not to have loved her at all. And if he did nothing worthwhile in the years ahead, life would still have been worth living because he had once loved and been loved by her…
It had taken him long enough to realize that, and it struck him as curious that he should not have done so until now, of all times, when he was waiting to catch a last glimpse of her. But it was enough that he had done so; and the knowledge brought him the same kind of relief that an exhausted swimmer feels when he reaches shallow water, and knows that he is not going to drown after all.
The departure of the brides and the groom had been a magnificent affair, and one that would surely have gratified the vanity of the late Maharajah of Karidkote if he could have seen it. His state elephants, gorgeously caparisoned, stood in the blaze of torchlight before the main entrance of the Pearl Palace, rocking gently from one foot to another as they waited for the procession to start. Their trunks and foreheads, their fringed ears and massive legs had been decorated with painted designs in brilliant colours, and their tusks ringed with bands of gold. The shimmering fringes of their velvet housings reached almost to the ground, and the embossed gold and silver-gilt of the howdahs gathered light from the bright flame of torches and the twinkling of innumerable chirags.
The start had already been held up by over an hour by the time Kaka-ji's message was delivered to Ash, and another hour went by without any sign of a move. Servants handed round pan and itr, and later, trays of little cakes to the patiently waiting crowd, and the guests munched and yawned and passed the time in desultory small-talk, until at last the groom's closest friends appeared on the steps of the palace. After that, things moved swiftly: a band struck up to signal the start, and as the elephants sank ponderously to their knees, an advance guard of gaily dressed horsemen set off with a clatter of hooves into the night. The Rana, ablaze with jewels and attended by a file of courtiers and uniformed servants, came through the gateway, closely followed by a small group of women – the Ranis of Bhithor and their ladies.
Tonight Shushila's sari was of flame-coloured gauze spangled and embroidered with gold,