27.
when the festivities ended
the duty of incarceration was transferred
from one warden to another
the bridal tent was erected beside the groom’s
and his wealth afforded that two guards stood
right outside her tent
at all hours of day and night
as long as majnuun
wasn’t confirmed dead
he was considered a threat
sensing the wind failed to deliver her message
she turned to the sparkles of the stars
to be love’s emissaries
did not their light extend across the sphere
of the earth
and could they not reveal in one place
what their light witnessed in another
if willing,
they could reflect all of majnuun’s words
upon the pupil of her eye
but she could not decipher the starlight
within the moon’s radiance
so instead her insomnia gave way
to watching the night shadows play
in the folds of the tent’s darkness
until the light of the approaching sun came
to dissolve
all the nocturnal distractions
as dawn arrived
she was summoned to her husband’s tent
to make the fajr {pre-sunrise} prayers
whereafter, she was sent back to her bridal tent
to have breakfast with her parents,
perhaps for the last time
the meal was mostly immersed in silence
the food more a prop than something consumed
when done
she exited with her parents to see
the rest of bakht’s camp had been disassembled
only her tent remained standing
with men waiting outside to take it down
the possessions she kept were placed
in empty donkey carts nearby
the other lavish gifts she gave to her clan
these were like a last meal given
to an incapacitated person left to die in the desert
the final succulent savors
before the bitterness of starvation began its burn
but there she stood
beside bakht, now a prisoner in his custody
as he bid her former warden goodbye
her mother ran back to the camp of her clan,
crying in deep lament
unable to say goodbye
her melancholy stained by a touch of guilt
because she knew in her heart
that layla’s heart
was not committed to the man she was married to
her father stood his ground
mustering a slight smile
to reflect the pride of a sacred duty fulfilled
he had protected her from that nefarious majnuun
and found her a lasting salvation
in the wealthy and virtuous bakht
yet his victory felt incomplete
although she tried to hide it,
he could sense a sadness within his daughter
one that went beyond the sorrow of
merely leaving home
but why give inquiry to such now
whatever it was, she did not confess it
despite having opportunity to do so
it was not his paternal duty to explore
what was unspoken, despite its haunting presence
it was enough to complete his paternal obligation
and leave the sadness
where she chose to bury it
giving a good face
he helped his daughter into the howdah
and patted the husband on his back
he then stood before the crowd that gathered
to watch the caravan leave
the children cheered
some women cheered, others cried
the few men watched with pride
this scene was seen as a sign of victory
for two wars that devastated the clan
with irreversible hardship
but the elders knew they were witnessing
the consummation of the end
without layla,
the full burden of their defeat to nawfal
would now fall upon the remaining clan
only a few realized
how their fate was tied
to layla and majnuun’s denied yearning
for each other
in a most peculiar way
this provided a surviving sustenance
but with her departure
the presence of her love would no longer draw
sufficient means to subsidize the clan’s destitution
* * *
the howdah became a traveling tomb
despite being decked for a princess
to her, its luxurious confinement
beheld a cruel and unwanted poverty
the veils were not darkening enough
the smooth motion of the walking camel became
as the shifting of soil around the burial shroud
yet this soil did not suffice
to suffocate her corpse to death
allowing just enough air into the tomb
to keep her weak body breathing
thus, she was trapped
despite the outer facade displaying
a prosperous freedom
she grasped at the only solace at hand
a hope masqueraded as a prayer
“perhaps fate will intervene to resurrect me
to sever the chains that separate us
i will hold to faith...”
it was as if something beyond
chose to give an inkling of encouragement
when they set camp for the night on the second day
her husband requested that she dine in his tent
so she carried her food from hers to his
but along the way she dropped her napkin
she exited his tent to retrieve it
and just after re-entering his tent
she heard that voice
that magical voice
which she had not heard in years
and it was louder and more alive
than the traces she glimpsed at times
from the whispers of the wind
it yelled out,
“layla, my layla”
no truer words had ever been spoken
and at no better time
because
despite a wedding performed to this stranger
despite gifts exchanged and her father’s blessing
to him
despite the world acknowledging
his marital claim over her
she did not belong to him
she was not his
no!
she was majnuun’s
and majnuun was hers
and nothing in the whole world,
the whole universe
could ever change this
and even he knew it
the look of alarm within his eyes
the stranger rushed out the tent
with sword drawn
yet she feared not
no, she was drowning in the ecstasy
of hearing that voice
all there was was that voice
even his words became a blur
in her immersion into bliss
but the last of his utterance cut a path of clarity
through her bewildered mind
“slit my neck within thy shadow
within thy life-stealing gaze suffocate me
just don’t let another day pass me by
without feeling thine hands”
her sight blurred by tears
she started to go out to him
but the stranger with the sword barred her way
yet she could feel his warmth upon her,
his warmth
and see his beauty within her blinded eyes
clouded spheres that could only see
the motion of her streaming tears
and in her denied exit
she murdered her beloved
with her distant embrace
feeling his body with hers across the distance
she died with him
and in death,
they found their belated union
a peaceful bliss indescribable
until she finally kissed him
and her lips resurrected him,
and his her
their repented bodies returned to this world
where fate cruelly placed them
in their severed intimacy
again
in that moment
her soul exposed in nakedness
the stranger looked in her eyes
realizing what she already knew
that his genuine adoration of her
had penetrated not the slightest
her undying love for majnuun
yet prizes purchased for high prices
are not quickly abandoned
perhaps the purity of his patience
may win a partial affection from her
even if she continued to love majnuun
he would be content
with the illusion of a compromised adoration
a facade of happy matrimony
better this
than to render his hand empty
for all he expended to gain her
this is why when they arrived at bakht’s home
upon the balcony with its expansive view
he declared to her
“everything within your sight is yours
my sovereignty is servant to your will”
although she knew he meant it
she would not allow herself to even be tempted
into being corrupted by his treasures
for true love and wealth are like oil and water
they may share the same glass
yet mix not into one liquid
so she refused the luxuries of the nuptial bedroom
insisting that her bridal tent be her private chamber
she became a reclusive within that tent
to avoid all the temptations of his wealth
and he patiently obliged
for after all,
she was a peasant girl accustomed to lesser standards
let her have time to become familiar
with this new way of life
and also to see that his virtue
is worthy of her trust
but over time
instead of earning her favor
her unyielding indifference to him remained
* * *
his enduring hope began to drown
in an inconsolable agitation
especially since she chose isolation over
his company
and continued to spurn his courting
all the gifts and flowers he sent her
she placed outside her tent
for the wind to blow away
every single one, barring none
an explicit refusal quietly proclaimed
eventually bitter thoughts crept upon him
as he lay alone in the marital bed
their coldness became his bedmate
instead of her warm embrace
“what arab man
who has given so much and been patient so long
continues to tolerate his wife’s refusal
of his husbandly rights
let strength take what she yields not to your mercy
perhaps this is all a game
inviting you to assert your dominion”
bakht continued to make a home for such thoughts
instead of dismissing them
their lingering presence began to poison his virtue
until one night, gripped with angst
he stormed from his bed to her tent
it was no coincidence
that as he neared the threshold of her abode
he stepped upon a rose she discarded
one of its thorns pinching his foot
causing him to pause within the night shadows
for a moment
instead of heeding pain’s warning
as a sign to reflect
he used the hurt to further kindle
the fury of his anger
he barged into the tent
into the midst of the candle-lit sanctuary
and rushed to the prayer rug like a bull
he lifted the solemn worshiper from her knees
and tore her shirt down the middle
to declare his dominance
and she immediately slapped him in the face
with such force that he was moved backwards
not so much by a physical might
rather a power that stills ferocious armies
with the gaze of a sole pacifist
fearlessly ready to die for her cause
there
she stood her ground
without sword, without shield,
without any armor
having never seen such strength
his senses were bewildered,
his body numbed
yet there was no mistaking her coarse words
“naught but remorse will come
if you ever do that again
my oath i made to the one who creates
that i will never yield to you!
shed my blood
or i will slit my own neck
before you shall ever have this body of mine
or that within it which makes it alive”
the creeps of evil’s whispers fled
and in being humbled
he remembered his love for her
although too ashamed to voice repentance
he fell to his knees and cried
his tears soothing her anger
and causing her to reflect to herself
he has been respectful until now
and did continue to extend me courtesies
all of which i rejected
yet still i will defend...
her thoughts were interrupted
by his trembling voice
“layla,
even if your love for him blinds you
to my love for you
refuse me not your presence completely
as one denied the fruits of the one you love
surely you can sympathize with my wish
to have at least an occasional visit,
as a friend”
there was a moment of silence
and then the words resumed,
“i will never demand that you abandon
your love for him
only grant me the chance
to win your partial affection
is that too much to ask
few are those spouses whose love is whole
and exclusive to each other
even to have just part of your love
will suffice for a matrimony of beauty”
with that
she fiercely pointed for him to leave
and rather than risk losing her for good
he departed
but her anger remained
deeming his request a false claim of love
for if he were truly in love
he would not ask another lover
to turn her attention away in any way
from her beloved
true love is ever in quest of being whole
never surrendering itself to be partial
she knelt back down upon her prayer rug
hoping to receive in some way
a message from majnuun
but nothing showed forth as a sign
instead the moment gave way
to a torrent of tears
that bled deep into the night
❍ ● ❍