In the Islamic Emirate of Romance
So, some people got married, and someone got killed. The wedding was apparently the culmination of a fairy tale romance, aptly taking place on the World Frog Conservation Day. Meanwhile, the death looks to have followed the script of the best of the dhishum dhishum from any wood. Okay, it’s more than that. It took place in a country whose realities would defy the imaginations of Scheherazade.
No, no, fret not, this is not about the impure land of Peccavi (yes, yes, Rushdie riffing, show off, I know). That stuff is B-O-R-I-N-G. Instead, let’s fantasise about the Islamic Emirate of Romance, where:
- the damsel lives in purdah, wears kameez that are loose like pillow cases, and frolics around in the hammamkhana;
- her sahelis do the same, but everyone moves rather cautiously, after all, marble floor might be slippery when wet;
- meanwhile the hero carries a sword, and his chelas dance like idiots;
- he himself dances like an idiot, particularly on top of a camel… okay, I guess he is in love, so he’s forgiven, but the three idiots aren’t;
- I’ve already mentioned camel and purdah, there are also palms, a suk, and a rather
villainish looking someone resembling a dead Saudi kingvillainish looking character (and I mean that in a cool way)….
Dear reader, you don’t have to fantasise this stuff… it’s there over the fold.