King, Palace and Administration attention now shifted to the singers. They sang unhurriedly. At times they clapped, they swayed, opened their mouths wide, made faces, lowered their eyelids in feigned coyness, rolled their large eyes, winked and gesticulated to the rhythm of their song. The assembly sat still as if in a trance, like people in a painting. Navinchandra observed the goings on, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of what the schoolteacher and the city judge had just told him. His eyes moved from face to face. He looked at Buddhidhan and felt sorry for him. The tales of the Arabian Nights he had read seemed to be coming true before his very eyes, and he felt like Aladdin trapped inside the demon’s palace. Kalavati now made her grand re-entry into the assembly, and the other courtesans stopped singing. She was dressed like one of Lord Krishna’s gopis of her imagination. She wore a broad skirt of blue silk with deep red patterns brightly embroidered on the hemming. The skirt was gathered in at the waist by drawstrings. A gauzy odhni bright as moonlight covered her head, coming down to her slender waist. Shiny anklets and fish-shaped toe rings gleamed on her feet. These and other tiny ornaments as well as her finely cut nails shone like seashells as she began her dance, to the accompaniment of the sarangi and the mridangam. Her entire ensemble gave the impression of sparkling foamy waves. The ornaments, her fair knees, the taut veins of her feet, her nails and her heels drew attention to themselves. The gaze moved to her costume only when other parts of her body were still. Her hair was like dark clouds on the horizon. Gold, diamond and pearl ornaments adorned her neck and her supple arms. She sparkled like a sky studded with stars. The sight of her fair glittering body produced a haze before the mind’s eye. Her large kohl-lined eyes came alive as she met the gaze of the assembly. Her anklets, her swirling skirt, her odhni, everything danced in rhythm as her delicate feet moved rapidly before the stunned audience. She was like lightning in a still sky. Her movements, swift and fluid, were akin to a small fish swimming in the quiet waters of a lake. She was the only one who moved. The audience sat still. She seamlessly danced into their mind’s eye, arousing fierce passions that she herself did not feel. Her flat, delicate stomach revealed itself ever so slightly as she whirled and twirled, her breasts heaved and shook, and the assembly stared at her transfixed, their passions enflamed, their breathing heavy. Her charming lotus-like face swayed like a snake’s hood, the sweet poison of her breath spread all around her. The assembly surrendered its manhood to her, and she played with them as if they were children or puppets. They waited impatiently for her song. Her eyes widened, her lips quivered, and the desires made manifest and aroused by her