Meri Pehchan

•the kingdom of Persia•

"And what may that be?" He pressed.

"Persia. Baghdad. It is your home. I am excited to see it, but I miss my own. The warmth of my mother, the tales of my father," she answered.

A small smile made it's way on to her face. A distant look in her eyes that hinted she was deep in thought. He raised a hand, casting a shadow on her face, stopping the sun rays from falling on her sun-kissed skin. Around them were sounds of his men cheering, the feet of horses smacking against the cobblestone road. Around them, guesthouses had begun to sprung up. Each one more inviting than the previous. The closer they got to the city gates, the more the number of sirai showed. They had been built years ago to house traders who were using the silk route. Baghdad was in particular famous for it's hospitality and cloth trading.

He felt relief flush through him at the realization that they were almost home. His body was tired of sleeping on the hard beds for so long. He wanted to bring Samra into his own home, where she did not need to hide at the corners. A place she would rule, somewhere they could show their love without being fearful of the scrutinizing gazes.

"I understand Samra. This feeling of emptiness. You long for something that no longer exists, it a pain unlike any other". He replied.

She nodded, eyes that were large like chestnuts and slender like almonds, filled up with tears. Her lips curled into a frown and if it were not for the people surrounding them, he would have kissed it away. Placing his finger right under her eye he caught the tear that fell. It's warmth igniting a fire inside of him, as he continued to wipe them away. Her pain was insatiable, worth all her tears. But Fadahunsi hated anytime she dropped those. Like rose petals, her tears did not deserve to touch the ground. They were meant to be kissed, to be worshipped.

"I don't want to feel this way! I want to love anything that stems from you! I want to cherish all that you cherish. I swear I try F-Fadah–unsi. I try!" She whimpered.

Her hands covered her bright eyes, the ones he loved to gaze at. The ones that were the purest window to her soul. The sun was bright on the horizon, it's light blinding the gazes of passerby's. He angled himself in a way to shield her, allowing her to sob into his shoulder. Her body wrecked with sobs and he freed one hand from the reigns, brushing it in soothing motions, against her back. Samra's muffled cries soon turned to silent sniffs, tiny coughs leaving her flushed face. He kissed each of her swollen eye, forwarding his sheepskin bottle. Pressing it against her lips, like a mother nurses its babe, he watched her gulp it. Life returning to her pale lips and just a hint of pain disappeared from her eyes.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

They were greeted at the gates of the city by Queen Alishba. In her deep maroon silk gown that hugged her skin, her hair in a high bun and a brighter cape tied at her neck followed behind her. She hugged Samra and kissed each of her brother's on their cheeks. The men rejoiced and the women cried in joy inside their wagons. They were finally home. Strolling by Fadahunsi's side Samra felt blood return to her tired legs, adrenaline pumped through her veins as the anxiety of the past few hours dissolved. Instead, pure joy took over, at the idea of exploring her husband's home.

The streets were made of stone, each one arranged as if puzzle pieces completing a larger piece. The streets were lined by small shops, their openings were covered in wooden benches and deep inside were rows upon rows of tall columns. Each one housing a new product. Samra was astonished to see fruit vendors, cloth merchants and tiny over crowded inns. Men ran in and out, in their hands extraordinarily huge dishes, throwing the water used for scrubbing out and then finding a hand pump to fill in some more fresh water.

She held Fadahunsi's sleeve, pushing herself into her body. People ran to the sides of the wide boulevards, cheering at them. Flowers and small pieces of silk cloth were thrown at them to celebrate their arrival. Lanterns burnt bright and covered their sight with their yellows and rusts. Samra gasped at the sight of a confectionery, selling sweets she had never before seen in her life. As they marched closer to the palace, situated in the centre of the city, men broke off to greet their families. By the time they reached the gold iron wrought gates, no one but the royal family remained.

"Fadahunsi will you come to court immediately or tomorrow morning?" Alishba turned to her brother.

"I shall come tomorrow your highness. I am fatigued after the journey and would like to help my wife adjust into her new home". He replied.

Alishba nodded her head, reaching out to grip Samra's elbow. She brushed her soft, pale fingers against Samra's skin. The difference in color stark and as clear as day.

"Thank you Samra. Your bravery won us that war".

"Uh—no. I didn't do anything," she blushed.

"Take your credit Samra. You're a national heroine," Alishba ordered.

Nodding her head, Samra found her way back to Fadahunsi's side. He bid his siblings goodbye and walked her around the round walls of the royal palace. A few streets down was a large home — a mansion even. It had a huge wooden door that led into a pristine garden, behind which was a four beam supported entrance. Tall walls that rose for miles above, led into a wide parlor. An opening led to the small lavatory, and one on the other side to the lavish kitchen that smelt of meat and spices. He helped her up the curling staircase, a door divided the landing and his chambers. On one side was the guest quarters he told her, and behind the white oak doors where their apartments.

Samra forgot to breathe at the sight of their bedroom. It had large windows on the south facing wall, attached to which were satin covered seats and round cushions. Thick rugs were thrown on the floor and a round bed lay in the centre. On the high walls were eight lamps, burning bright. To the left of the bed were a chest of trunks, her clothes he told her. Ordered by Alishba as soon as she had returned from Hindustan. A large looking glass, cut into an oval shape was hung on a wall below which was a dark, finely carved vanity. On it her favorite rogue and perfumes rested.

"Just through this door is my study. I spend my time there if I have not been summoned to court. The house has a sunroom and a proper dinning room, as well as a banquet hall," he explained, but all Samra could focus on was the close proximity between them.

"This is your home now. Feel free to do with it as you wish," he kissed the corner of her mouth, "and so is the master of this household humdum".

• Translations •
Sirai — rest houses

•••

Ugh my heart