Baadshah Salaamat

Lucky White Dog Wavespell  Yellow Spectral Sun 3.4.17

“Sultan Badshaah Salaamat has built his palace on a sandy hillock overlooking the sea. It’s peachy domed roof rises up like a breast complete with pointed nipple, saluting the sky above it. The palace has curvaceous windows cut out of its walls, where Sultan Badshaah Salaamat likes to sit and feel the first rays of the morning sun give him their benediction as they stream through and light up the rooms within. He likes to sit in these windows and gaze out at the setting sun over the sea later in the day, with a small cutglass tumbler of tea and a sugar cube tucked into his mouth; he’ll sit for hours in darshan until twilight.

After he’s done he’ll get on his favorite elephant, Meera, and go down the sandy hillock and through the inner gates into the field beyond where the nighttime activities are beginning and the people await his darshan before the merry go round begins singing its tinkle jinkle binkle song and lights up to declare, the festivities have begun! Indeed Sultan Badshaah Salaamat receives great pleasure from riding the grounds on Meera and gazing fondly at yellow stripe skirted little girls squealing with delight at the sight of juggling clowns, pink cotton candy, and a rainbow array of balloons that sometimes if you hold onto a large enough bunch of them, will lift you up off your feet and maybe carry you somewhere far far away. He especially enjoys a chuckle at the sound of screams from the giant ship that swings up and down and up and down, sometimes he can see people sliding on the rows, even once a young man lurched over three rows forward, what a startle that was!

But sadly, Sultan Badshaah Salaamat has yet to physically enjoy any of the offerings, for you see it is told to him, whispered by his Vizir, that he has a weak heart, too weak for the terrible excitement these activities would arouse in his body. And so, Sultan Badshaah contents himself to enjoy through the enjoyment of his joyful citizens that which his body will not tolerate . . . .”

“But Bibi,” Azizeh interrupts her granny, “Surely there’s a medicine for him? You always say there’s a remedy for every thing!”

“Shh, saket!” snaps Bibi, who agitates easily at interruptions, “Now on this particular day, when Sultan Badshaah Salaamat was engaged in darshan, so deep was his sitting, so pure his intent, that though the sun was setting it woke up. It woke up and at the time of its waking, in the celestial sky above there was a sphere that woke up too. This sphere had been asleep for so very long, but now it woke up and it stretched and of course it saw Sultan Badshaah Salaamat with his face turned up to the twinkling stars with wonder in his eyes, and felt as though it was itself the Sultan was beholding with all that devotion. And so, between the sun and the sphere, they each of their own accord decided they would bestow upon Sultaan Badshaah Salaamat that which he most desired, the gift of Salaamatee, only doubled!

Numinous Blue Night Wavespell Yellow Planetary Human GAP 3.16.17

This is how it happened:: Sultan Badshaah Salaamat was perusing the quiet festival grounds atop Meera one afternoon, examining them for improvements, when the elephants’ tail swung and slapped an old lady carrying a basket of rose petals, knocking her to the ground. Badshaah Salaamat was appalled and he dismounted at once.

“Maasi”, he says, “Forgive me! Forgive Meera! Here allow me to help you to your feet.”

The old woman nods and extends her arm to the Sultan, who tucks his own under hers and assists her to her feet.

“Are you alright Maasi? Such a fall may have hurt you! Come to the palace with me and my physicians will look you over!”

The old woman’s face creases into a smile, and she pats Badshaah Salaamat arm.

“Now now, it wasn’t so bad as all that Sultan Sahib! Just a slight slap, sometimes these things happen; I’ll be fine, now if you’ll help me gather my rose petals I’ll be on my way.”

Badshaah Salaamat is horrified. He knows that a fall like that would have been a terrible thing for him with his weak heart, how can the old woman be fine at her venerable age?

“Come come, what’s the matter Sultan Sahib? By the look on your face something is troubling you greatly,” says she.

Badshaah Salaamat is embarrassed that his face has revealed his concern, but he plunges ahead, “Maasi, I have a weak heart and I am young. A fall like that would have put me in bed for a long time, so how can you be alright? Come with me to the palace, my physicians will check you and put you right.”

The old woman stares at him for a moment and shrugs, “Alright, it seems like it’ll give you peace of mind, so help me with my rose petals and then we can go.”

Badshaah Salaamat gathers rose petals and refills her basket with the dusty trodden flowers, then he helps her onto Meera and they return to the palace. He sends for his Chief Physician and while they wait he seats her on a divan and summons tea for them both. The old woman takes everything in with her eyes.

“So Sultan Sahib, let me ask you this, what is your favorite place in this palace of yours?”

His face breaks into a smile and he says, “Ah Maasi, come I’ll show you my favorite spot in all the world.”

He tucks her arm under his and slowly walks her to the window that he does darshan from, waving to the view ahead of him.

“Beautiful is it not?”

“Ah yes, my Sultan, but why do you stand on this side of the window when you could step out onto the balcony and be under the celestial skies themselves?”

“Ah, Maasi, it is my weak heart, too much evening and early morning air would be damaging to it you see, as well as the sun, the heat is too high and would increase the pressure of my blood,” he shakes his head sadly as he replies.

The old woman gives him a piercing look then asks, “Who has told you these things? I can tell from looking at you that your heart is in excellent health and in the best of conditions, yet you seem to believe otherwise . . .”

“Maasi, my Vizir assures me that the assessment of the physicians is to be relied on, they have studied the body and understand its workings well . . . “

The old woman snorts rudely, “The only medicine you need my boy is a good dose of peppermint to freshen up your head and clear up your thinking, with some rose to allay whatever feelings trouble you, that is all!”

“But Maasi how do you know this, you are a simple flower woman, no offense but this is the truth.”

She reaches over and lightly pats his cheek, “Yes I am a simple flower woman, the flowers tell me all I need to know. These physicians they have fancy words for everything, adaptogen stimulant demulcent cardiovascular my my there’s a whole language devoted to knowledge that is at its heart very very simple; so simple that one only has to lean in and smell a rose to know what it is good for. Look you have such large gardens with so many flowers, do you never stop and smell the roses?”

He nods his head and replies, “Too much walking is over stimulating for my heart, unfortunately I have yet to walk the gardens and smell any flowers as they grow.”

The old woman shakes her head and a sad expression flutters over her face, “Sultan Badshaah, if you will trust me then there is a remedy for your weak heart, its only weakness is that it is too trusting and thus easily manipulated; come walk the gardens with me?”

Sultan Badshaah Salaamat looks at the old woman, standing so spritely and straight, he observes the shining glossy hair that defy the lines on her face, the sparkle in her eye and he does something he’s never done before, he acts on impulse and agrees to walk the gardens with her. And the two set off into the open and walk arm in arm, the old woman barefooted encourages him to remove his shoes, and as he once did so long ago as a young boy, a child, he kicks off his shoes and walks with his heels and toes touching the carpet of grass beneath them. With every step he feels more youthful until he is walking faster and faster and he lets go of the old woman’s arms and runs in his robes so wildly his turban flies off his head and he simply laughs and keeps going, twirling like the madmen in the bazaars. The old woman matches his steps with her own and the two fall down by the rose bushes and gaze up at the sky. For the first time in his adult life he breathes deeply and smells the perfume of roses fill him up, fill him until he feels he’ll lift up and float away or turn into a rose himself. They lay by the rose bushes for what feels like hours until the old woman gets to her feet and says to him it is time to return to the palace. With a pang of regret Sultan Badshaah gets to his feet and they walk back, retrieving turban and shoes along the way. To his surprise, when they return all is as it was before and as they sit and sip tea, the Chief Physician and Vizir appear to examine the old woman.

Sultan Badshaah watches as the physician asks the old woman some questions, feels her pulse and declares she’ll need two weeks abed after her topple. He marvels at this assessment for he himself was but earlier in the day running and walking and twirling with her, and she neither broke a sweat nor was winded. His physicians declaration seems obviously wrong to him and he slowly wonders what else has he himself been diagnosed with that is incorrect? Was he not running under the celestial skies, walking those dangerous gardens, dancing and laughing until, though his heart felt as though it would explode, it did not? His eyes catch the old woman’s observing him and as their eyes meet she winks at him and gets to her feet.

“Rose tea Sultan Saahib, and some peppermint, remember that. Now I’ll be off, thank you for a most excellent day.”

She picks up her basket and as he rises he notices the dusty trodden roses have refreshed themselves. He offers her his arm and walks her to the door, then down the stairs, until she leaves the palace grounds and disappears, a small dot on the horizon. He climbs the stairs deep in thought and steps out onto the balcony for darshan. And ever since that day Sultan Badshaah Salaamat was blessed with the gift of Salaamatee from the sun and sphere, which he emanated and shared generously with all.”

“Bibi, how do you know this story?” Azizeh asks from by her granny’s feet.

The old woman pinches her grandaughter’s cheek, laughing with delight when her eyes grow large and round as she asks,

“And who do you think that flower seller was joonam?”