Lailah: The Milestone

The misplaced identity

"You have an idea who bears the name Lailah?"

   He asked the rather in a haste lady who had a child strapped to her back. She obviously wasn't going home because that route she was plying only would lead to the sea. 

   That was the third person he would accost on that route. And none of them seemed to have an idea who Lailah was.

   But he had thought that Lailah should be rather popular given by the thing she had said to him when they last met. 

   Twas just an experience which he would love to have over and over again. 

     He looked back briefly at the woman again. She was too young to be bearing such pain. She should be like Lailah, not like his annoying wife. 

    He was walking towards the end of that path. There was a broad field before him. Like a lawn of earth. 

    There was another path to the right of the end of that one he was getting to. 

   By the right and left of the new path he might ply were many sellers and buyers. 

   He would be super mad if he went ahead and started asking everyone about the hot Seductress. 

     He halted for a while and looked around. There was no one that looked like her. 

    He had changed his cloth. He had taken the clothes of a fresh corpse  he saw while plying the path of that forest. 

   He hoped that no one would figure out that he was wearing someone else's clothes.

   That was rather ridiculous though. A particular cloth was not meant for only a person or is it?

    He turned back and looked at the forest for the last time. He changed his route. 

    He began to ply that route with several people. 

   He wouldn't bother looking for Lailah amongst the local or market women. She was much more civilized, he guessed. 

     His stomach began to hum some rustic rhythm he could not register. 

     He was famished. He noticed a lady, standing with her back to him, attending to a man who seemed to want to buy a robe. 

    The hair of the lady was tantamount to Lailah's. Twas long, silk and soft. Well brushed and set. 

    He knew that twasnt Lailah. It could never be her but when had trying started to become a problem?

     "Lailah?"

    He held the shoulders of the lady from behind and turned her roughly. 

   The lady in wave, turned and hit the wooden tray, on which the robe were staged, as she held the fellow in her gaze. 

    "Oh, sorry. I thought --"

   The words were still in embryo making a new form when he felt a force on his face twice. Punches.

   He held unto his nose and looked at the man who punched him. 

   Twas the man he had mistaken for one of the lady's buyers. 

     "Get the fuck away from here."

   The man said as the lady took her turn of the hymn. He hurried along even though he couldn't make meaning of the verses. 

     His hand was still on his nose as he walked on.  He almost walked into an old woman who he had no idea what the fuck she was doing in such busy a market. 

     He saw some group of men fighting. Twas more of a combat. Two to four men were staged while the remaining make a circle around them and fed their favorite guy's grits. 

    He saw them dropping coins, betting on the fighters. 

   He was famished. He had no money on him. If he would eat, he'd either beg or steal. 

   The first option was quite belittling but less demanding. Matter-of-factly, nobody knew him in that part of the world. 

    The second option seemed short and crisp but with lots of odds. Like a shortcut decked out in thorns and thistles. 

      He dumbed the two thoughts and walked past the group of men. He was drawing closer to the gate of the village. 

    The market square was outside the village. There was a great wall surrounding the village, then the large gate. 

    Probably if he made it into the gate, he would be able to find comfort, food then Lailah. 

    At least he needed enough food for banging. 

    He looked around for a while as he walked if luck would flicker its waning ray on him. 

   Then he noticed a lady looking at him. Of course twas not Lailah. 

    He did a stealthy look at the lady again and discovered that she would look and throw her gaze away. 

   She was selling few weapons. Such as swords, bows and arrows, spears and shields. 

    He wanted to think about how she'd manage to get all the weapons there but what was his business? She'd definitely have a suitor. 

    He walked into a fellow who only looked at him and shook his head. 

    "Sore sorry."

   He muttered as he fastened to the gate and quit looking at the annoying lady. 

    He walked through the gate and saw ocean of houses made from marbles. He had no faint idea how poor people as such could afford such a costly stone. 

    As he stood there at the middle of the way wondering, two men close in pace with him. 

   One held him by the right arm and the other by the left. 

   They dragged him to the right towards the end of the large gate and took him to the back of the gate. 

    Behind the gate was a little house which definitely was meant for those who were watching the gate. 

    "I can explain. "

    He said as soon as they made him seat on one of the benches outside the small house.

      "Get Sir a cup of wine."

   The first guy who looked collected compared to the rough counterpart ordered. 

   He muttered to himself,

     "Sir?"

     He kept quiet. He looked at the fellow go and return with the cup of wine.

   He collected and swigged in a mouthful. 

     "His majesty would send horses to convey you soon." 

      "Convey me?"

   He asked, stupefied. 

     "Yes, you. Or do you by any means borrowed this attire of the great Duke's son?"

    The man challenged. His ears  in shock were erected.

    "Of course not. I am the true son of --"

    The whinnying of the horses clipped the lie. 

   The collected man urged him till they got to the horses and he climbed on it.

   He had no idea what was going on. But he was preparing his mind on what to say to the King when he get to the palace. 

   He looked back as the horse took heels. He saw the same lady at the rear of the gate looking at him. 

   He had more than enough to be worried about.