Chapter — "Through the Streets of Sitapur"
The morning sun had barely spilled across the gardens when Mir Baksh, turban slightly askew, approached Nawab with the gravity of a man carrying both audacity and devotion.
"Your highness," he began, bowing slightly, "the princesses wish to visit the nearby garden. Yasmeen insists on the outing." His eyes flickered for a moment with something unreadable. "I believe it will refresh their spirits."
The Nawab, ever cautious, frowned. "The garden? It is bustling. Surely the girls cannot—"
Baksh interrupted gently.He had worked so long for the Nawab ,gotten so close that he could easiky skip his role a little withoit anyone minding it.Nawab truly considered him his friend.And the girls, their father figure "And I will accompany them. No one will suspect."
With a barely perceptible nod, the Nawab allowed it, unaware that Mir Baksh had already planned a route through the neighboring kingdom, a carriage waiting that would carry them near the city's outer walls, giving the girls the illusion of freedom while keeping them safe.
By mid-morning, Noor Jahan and Yasmeen were ready. Gone were the silks, the pearls, the jeweled anklets. They wore simple linen tunics, soft brown and cream, sleeves rolled for ease. No dupattas, no veils; yet somehow, the girls were unrecognizable. Their posture, their poise, their confidence made them blend seamlessly with the ordinary women of Sitapur. No one in the bustling streets could imagine that these were princesses walking among them.
Mir Baksh walked just behind them, his eyes constantly scanning, yet he allowed them enough space to breathe the streets like any free soul.
The carriage rattled through the outer road, and the girls disembarked in the quieter side lanes. They laughed softly as they walked, the wind catching Noor's wavy black hair and Yasmeen's red locks, scattering them like flames across the dusty lanes.
"Do you think anyone will recognize us?" Yasmeen asked, eyes sparkling, though her voice barely rose above the murmur of the market.
Noor shook her head, her honey-colored eyes scanning the street with quiet awareness. "Not unless they expect a princess to walk without pomp. And they do not."
"Then let us enjoy our freedom," Noor whispered, a mischievous glint in her honey-colored eyes.
Yasmeen grinned. "Freedom, yes. But let us also not trip on our own hems in the first ten minutes."
Mir Baksh cleared his throat, stepping closer, turban slightly tilted, eyes scanning the street with exaggerated suspicion. "Ten minutes?" he muttered. "By the time we reach the first stall, one of you will have knocked over at least two baskets of pomegranates and a spice vendor's entire display. I swear, Princess Yasmeen, if you knock over a saffron jar, I shall personally pay for it with my own coin!"
Yasmeen laughed, twirling around. "Then you'd better hold your purse tightly, Mir Baksh !"
Noor smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "And what of you, Sir? You've been staring at every cart like a hawk. Are you expecting trouble or just imagining it?"
Baksh placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Both. And do not test me, Noor bibi. The bazaar is a dangerous place for princesses disguised as commoners. One false step—"
"Mir Baksh ," Yasmeen interrupted, rolling her eyes playfully, "I assure you, my steps are deliberate. You may worry about thieves, but the greatest danger here is my cousin trying to push me into a pile of apples."
Baksh groaned, muttering something about "reckless royal bloodlines" under his breath. He adjusted his turban, then bowed slightly. "Very well, but remember: no running, no shouting, and absolutely no sudden interest in the spice that smells like a battlefield in bloom."
Noor chuckled. "Battlefield in bloom. I like that description."
As they stepped onto the street leading to the bazaar of Sitapur, the world shifted. The cobbled lanes were alive with merchants hawking their wares, children darting between legs, and the scent of roasting nuts mingling with marigolds. Noor's keen eyes darted from stall to stall, noting the colours and the smells.
"Do not touch the silk," Baksh said firmly, voice low, "and for heaven's sake, do not draw attention with laughter."
Yasmeen looked at him sideways. "Draw attention? Me? I think the entire market already knows we exist simply because the air is fuller when we walk."
Noor suppressed a giggle. "Do you always exaggerate, Yasmeen?"
"Exaggerate?" Yasmeen shot back, feigning offense. "Merely highlighting reality."
Baksh groaned audibly. "Reality, yes. Reality that could land you in a ditch if you are not careful. Avoid the mud puddle by the spice stall, and whatever you do—" He pointed dramatically at a vendor stacking jars of rosewater, "—do not let your skirts brush the saffron display! Do you hear me? Saffron!"
Noor rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her amusement. "Saffron is not as deadly as you claim, Baksh ."
"Not deadly?!" he bellowed, glancing around as though the market itself might rise in rebellion. "Have you forgotten the story of the Nawab's cousin in Lahore who sneezed near saffron and caused a near-international incident?!"
Yasmeen laughed so hard that she almost stumbled into a cart of oranges. Baksh leapt forward, steadying her with a dramatic flourish. "See! See what I mean?! One wrong step, and chaos!"
Noor caught herself from laughing as she whispered, "He's so dramatic, yet I find his caution oddly comforting."
Baksh, pretending to ignore her, led the way down the narrow streets. "Follow my steps exactly. Quick pace, but do not run. Eyes forward, heads down—but elegance, always elegance. Remember, even commoners can recognize royalty if you move like a bull in a china shop."
They moved past vendors shouting their prices, street performers balancing on barrels, and children darting between their legs. Noor occasionally glanced sideways, savoring the thrill of walking unseen yet fully aware, Yasmeen skipping slightly to dodge a goat that wandered into the lane.
Baksh muttered under his breath, "Princesses of impossible audacity… and yet, here I am, risking my reputation for a couple of free-spirited girls."
The bazaar loomed ahead, a maze of colour, scent, and life. The carriage from the neighboring kingdom waited discreetly at the far end, ready to escort them closer to the library without drawing notice.
"Keep close, bibi's," Baksh said, voice low but firm. "One wrong glance and the whole town will suspect a princess is abroad."
Noor's lips curved into a faint smile. "And yet, even with every warning, Mir Baksh , we are free."
Yasmeen nodded. "Free to move. Free to breathe. Free to—" She stopped abruptly, eyes widening. "Do you hear that?"
Baksh raised a brow. "Hear what?"
The murmur of the crowd, the scrape of carts, the call of a spice vendor — everything seemed amplified for a moment. Noble steps echoed nearby, though none of them could see the girls. A chill ran down Baksh's spine.
"Do not turn your heads," he muttered. "Whatever you sense, whatever instinct stirs—ignore it."
Noor's honey eyes scanned ahead, Yasmeen gripping her cousin's arm lightly. Together, the three moved through the bazaar, unseen yet intensely alive, hearts beating with the thrill of near discovery.
And somewhere, just a street away, two figures slowed their pace, their eyes drawn to a feeling — a presence — that seemed familiar, though they could not see the faces, only the promise of the unknown.
Noor's brow furrowed as they slowed near the bazaar's entrance. "Why do we hide?" Yasmeen whispered, glancing nervously at the bustling crowd. "We haven't even seen anyone yet. Why should we crouch behind carts like common thieves?"
Noor's honey-colored eyes scanned the street, sharp as a hawk. "Because, Yasmeen… we do not know who we might meet. Even if we have not seen them, someone … may recognize us without needing to look directly. Nobles have a way of seeing what the rest of the world overlooks. A glance, a shadow, the way we hold ourselves—sometimes, that is enough."
Yasmeen sighed, shaking her head but following her cousin's careful lead. "And here I thought freedom was just walking without pomp."
Mir Baksh cleared his throat from behind a stall, his voice low and slightly exasperated. "Princesses, listen carefully. I must leave you now."
Noor arched a brow. "Why?"
Baksh lowered his voice, almost conspiratorial. "Your instructions, Noor bibi. Should the Nawab send generals or envoys claiming concern for the garden visit, I must manage the rest of the palace. I cannot be in two places at once. You… remain cautious, and blend. Do not linger too long in any one spot, or any curious eyes might suspect your presence."
Yasmeen pouted. "And leave us to the market, alone?"
"Alone," Baksh confirmed, tugging at his turban with a mock sigh. "Though I assure you, my prayers follow you. And do not—I repeat, do not—jump into mud puddles, knock over vegetable carts, or be tempted by the saffron stall. And whatever you do, avoid singing; merchants mistake high notes for royal orders."
Noor and Yasmeen exchanged amused glances. "Yes, Sir," Noor said lightly, hiding the smile threatening to bloom on her lips.
Baksh gave them a dramatic bow and melted back into the crowd, muttering something about "reckless princesses and a foolhardy old servant risking life and reputation."
Once they were certain Baksh had disappeared into the shadows, Noor let out a small, silent laugh. Yasmeen elbowed her. "See? Freedom is still terrifying with every turn!"
Noor shook her head, her honey-colored eyes alight with thrill. "Freedom is always a mix of delight and danger. That is why it tastes so sweet."
With the cautionary shadow of Mir Baksh behind them, the two princesses began weaving through the bazaar with practiced ease. They ducked under hanging baskets of marigolds, stepped carefully past a group of boys playing with hoops, and exchanged sly nods with a spice vendor who looked suspiciously like he might have recognized a royal presence.
"Do you ever think anyone could recognize us?" Yasmeen asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"No," Noor said, her voice quiet but firm. "Because no one expects a princess to walk as a commoner. Even without veils, without jewels… people do not believe such audacity exists."
They paused at a stall selling hand-painted manuscripts, and Noor ran her fingers over the smooth pages, inhaling the scent of ink and old paper. Yasmeen leaned in to whisper, "The danger is almost romantic, isn't it?"
"Romantic," Noor murmured, "only if you survive to tell the tale."
The bazaar continued to pulse around them, alive with merchants, children, and the occasional stray goat. Noor and Yasmeen moved like shadows and light, slipping between carts, skirting puddles, ducking under cloth awnings, their simple dresses brushing the air without attracting notice.
A faint shuffle of feet behind a spice cart caused Yasmeen to freeze. Noor did too, honey-colored eyes narrowing. Instinct told her that someone unusual was near—but the alley they had chosen concealed them well.
"Move slowly," Noor whispered, her voice calm yet commanding. "And remember, our faces may be free, but our presence must remain invisible."
They resumed their weaving, slipping past a basket of oranges, a man sharpening knives, a pair of children chasing a runaway goat, their laughter muted by distance. The thrill of anonymity and the dance of caution made each step electric.
Noor felt it—the subtle, almost imperceptible awareness of being watched, but not recognized. Somewhere, near the edge of the bazaar, two young men moved with purpose, unaware that their quarry passed only a few streets away, unseen yet tantalizingly close.
As the market began to thin and the entrance to the library drew near, Noor whispered to Yasmeen, "Soon, we'll have the books to ourselves. No merchants, no crowds… just the scent of ink and knowledge."
Yasmeen grinned, her fiery hair catching the late afternoon sun. "And the thrill of knowing we walked unseen past the very danger we might have faced."
The two cousins stepped lightly, like dancers in a grand, invisible play, ready to slip into the sanctuary of the library—and into the world of stories, secrets, and the quiet magic that awaited them there.