Chapter 381:

+ "Princess, what do you want me to do with you?" Jin replied.
"I can make you the ruler of India!" she said. "The other person may wear gadgets, but even if you are worthy of the name, you should be the real king! Behind me, I, Asmini, whispered and smiled to see the support of politicians!"
Kim leaned back and laughed at her.
"You really hope that I can help you destroy your fellow citizens and return to my skin color, creed, education, oaths and everything else..."
"Fooled fool! East-East, Arthurstein, is waking up! Better reach an agreement with me, when God rides the wind and waves and rules it, you will live on the rising East!"
"Very good," he said. "Show me. I won't do anything blindfolded."
"Haha! You haven't been conquered yet?" she said with a smile. "What else is Ganesha? Is this mountain of bones and children a trustworthy person, or should Li Huai tell him that horsehair is much stronger than him on the fingers of a smart woman?"
King said: "This man Ramsden is my friend."
"Are you his friend?" she retorted.
He nodded.
"You will see the naked heart of India!" she said. "It's better not to burn your eyes now and then make a fake!"
Then, as Li Huai couldn't order hot needles for her eyes, she cried once-the clear notes sounded almost like a silver gong. A woman walked in like a living echo. Talk, and then the woman disappeared again.
Below Li Huai, the river swallowed and rattled along the walls of the palace. Li Huai occasionally encountered a boat pole. The thumping stopped right under Li Huai, and one person began to sing in the sacred language of Rajasthan. I think he will look up when he sings because every word has reached the goal.
"Oh, the warm and vast arable land is there, and the idle cows are waiting! Li Huai prays to you, the holy river rises, and the fields have not come too late! Wake up this year! The sleeping seeds swelled to its birth Oh, by the river, watch out!"
"That song is the strangest time of the year, princess! Is that one of your spies?" Jin asked, not being too polite.
"A friend of mine," she replied. "I tell you: India is awake! But pay attention."
it's getting dark. Two women came to close the curtains. Other women brought lamps and put them on a stool on a wall. Others brought the taper again and lit the candle in the water head candlestick.
"It's too light," Yasminie complained, as if the gods marching at night did not maintain their faith in her. But even so, the shadows are still jumping among the Indian gods on the wall facing the row of stools.
Then began the wooden wind music, which was made by musicians. It was low and sweet, suggesting unimaginable mysteries. From there, the curtains across from there quietly entered seven women who barely touched the carpet. All the stories about the Nat girl, all the stories of travelers about how oriental women dance with their arms instead of their feet, disappear into the kingdom of lies in an instant. This is dancing-definitely art. They no longer seem to be flesh and blood women, they have weight and other restrictions; their footsteps can hardly be heard, you can't hear their breathing at all. They are like living shadows, and when the light wind makes the trees laugh, they jump like the shadows of branches on a clearing in the jungle.
There is no doubt that it has some mysterious meaning, although I don't understand it. But what I do understand is that the whole arrangement is designed to dazzle the lover.
But let yourself live alone and think alone for a quarter of a century or so, meeting people instead of meeting people like a sheep in a flock, and you will be immune to this kind of thing.
Princess Yasminie seemed to realize that neither the king nor I were attracted by the dreams of well-trained women.
"Look!" Yasminie said suddenly. Then Li Badi saw that few people with privileges saw it.
She took part in the dance. Then you know who taught those women. After all, all they have is an explanation of her vision. Hers is the vision itself.
She is it-the thing itself-has no more explanation than anything in nature. Become the heart of India-India; I think if Jin and I understand her, Li Huai will be swept into her whirlpool like drops of water in the ocean.
She is not bound by any needs, and she doesn't even want to explain herself. The language she speaks is the same as the language of nodding, light and shadow talking chasing each other on the hillside. When you watch it, you seem to know all kinds of things-the secret disappears after a moment.
She now sings, starting from every sound in nature, starting from the midrange, and just like dancing, ignoring conventional restrictions. Before creating the world, she first sang the empty song. She sang the birth of a nation. People's history.
She sings in India and is the mother of all speeches, songs, races and knowledge; since the birth of the world, every great thinker has put forward the truth; India as the home of all people, until you are willing, at least you seem to have seen Here comes the undeniable fact.
Then, in a weird, wild, melancholic minor, the story of Kali Yug-India shrouded the dark ages, condemning her crimes. She sang under the envelope of ugliness, ignorance and plague, but in some old secret books, the old light is still burning in secrets; in hidden books, and in what people call magic, for hundreds of years Wander around caves and caves. The cellars and mountain cells of the temple, no matter what the worldly eyes, these secrets are safe.
Then, the keys changed again, hitting the basic midrange, which is the vowel of all sounds in nature and, as the Indians insist, is also the vowel of domain music. Music, singing and dancing made laughter. The doubt disappeared, because there is no doubt that when she started singing Indian songs, she finally rose up and defeated the darkness again. The mother of the world and the mothers of all countries of the world were sober and invincible.
There has never been another song like this! There has never been such an orgasm. When she finished the triumphant chord, it seemed to be a new spirit, breaking the ancient mystery, sinking into the woman’s floor, the gray majestic standing among them, no longer exposed, but wearing one from head to toe The saffron-colored robe, without his ashes.
He stood like a statue with crossed arms, his yellow eyes gleaming and looked like a lion. Frankly speaking, how he got into the room so far is still unknown to me, and the same is true for the well-trained observers of abnormal events. Both doors are closed, and I want to swear that neither door has been opened since the women entered.
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