Saminya tells him a tale

Dear Sir Williard,

It is just before noon local time and I must make a decision concerning my future within the next few hours. Instead of committing myself one way or the other I find myself on the balcony of my room finishing the very fine lunch of roast wyvern as I think of the problem which must without fail confront Rajah-4 within the next dozen years. The great colonial families who have lived on this idyllic planet are very soon going to find themselves outnumbered by the newly formed class of Hindi citizens. The Englishmen and women of this planet are used to thinking of these people as servants, I am starting to learn that these peoples don’t see themselves that way.

Saminya woke with a leisurely stretch of her long brown limbs. I watched her rise and move sensually to my side as I sipped my coffee, she was as beautiful as the early morning sun shining through the window and as graceful as the willow that swayed gently in the breeze. I sighed. She would make someone a wonderful wife, but not me, with her history in Dr. Miller's clinic I could not bring her to any of the functions held by the company where we would certainly meet with some of her former 'patients'.

“What hour are you expected back at Dr. Miller’s clinic?” I asked her as she picked a slice of glowing green fruit from the tray.
“Not until ten, my lover” she told me as she placed her hand on my shoulder. “Dr. Miller hates morning appointments.” Saminya must have noticed the slight stiffening of my back. She asked what troubled me and I explained bluntly that I hoped she would not mistake the night of passion we had shared for a commitment of any kind from me. Sir Williard, that beautiful young nurse openly laughed at me.

“What makes you think I would want a long term relationship with a very junior and penniless Doctor in the East Orion Trading company?” Her tone was so similar to my mother’s that for just a second I forgot she was a naked and most beautiful woman. Had she looked into my family and finances before her visit the night before, did she know how **** my situation truly was? I protested that I at least was a citizen of the British Interstellar Empire while she was a girl from a servant family, and that being an impoverished Doctor was a more honorable profession than servicing aging goats trying to draw just a hint of life from their spent loins.

“You have no idea who my family is.” She laughed again “Yes, my father serves as major-domo at the Willington–Hazelton Estates, but he is also the direct descendant of 20 generations of Newabs of Bengal. I have more royal blood in me than your King himself.” Sir Williard, Saminya truly believes she is my equal, nay even better than me. She slipped into the blue silk robe she had worn when she arrived, pulling the exquisitely embroidered garment over her naked limbs and fastening it at her neck before continuing. “As for my work for Dr. Miller,” her brilliant smile showed no sign of remorse “my caste, the Kshatriya or ruling caste of the Vedic system has had a long-standing tradition of victors taking the women of the conquered as concubines.” Saminya turned in a circle letting the robes flow about her like water. “In time,” Dr. Baxter “we, the Kshatriya women, have found that the proper order of the world restores itself.” Sitting across from me she took one of my hands in hers and traced a slow path on my palm with a soft finger. “Let me tell you of one of these events that happened many years ago to my family. It involved an Englishman much like yourself, a low-level minion working for the then East India Trading company in the city of Calcutta.”

Sir Williard, she recounted the aftermath of the Battle of Plassey from 300 years ago. I vaguely remember studying Colonel Robert Clive’s use of political maneuvering, battlefield acumen, and courage to defeat the vast army of Newab Siraj and open the Bengal Province for the East India the mid 1700’s. Saminya’s tale focused not on battlefield tactics or economic significance, but what took place in the Newab’s palace when Clive and his officers arrived to accept the surrender of Siraj. The story, she explained, is one of many that have been passed down from mother to daughter in her lineage, and one she hopes to one day tell her when her own daughter comes of age.

It seems that when Colonel Clive arrived at the palace he found the old Newab had been beheaded by his own guardsmen. The conquered prince’s head was presented to the thirty-three year old Clive along with the keys to the palace treasury; according to custom, the wives and daughters of the Siraj’s family were on display in the great hall as part of the victor’s plunder. Let me assure you Sir Williard, that if history was taught with details like this in the strict boarding schools of our Empire, the instructors would not need sharp words or lashings to keep the attention of the next generation of noblemen.

According to Saminya, the young English Colonel chose for his pleasure the wife of the new Newab, the grandson of the now deposed Siraj. The princess had been married to the boy prince when she was sixteen and the heir only four years old. Now after six years of unconsummated marriage while she waited for her husband to mature, the Newabi of Bengal was considered the most beautiful and cultured woman in all of Bengal and it was her that the victorious young Englishman led to his bedroom. Nine months later, the now 11 year old Newab held his heir in his arms, the next prince to rule the Bengal Province.

“You see, Dr. Baxter.” Saminya told me as she leaned back on the chaise. “It doesn’t much matter to the women of my caste who wins or loses the battles fought by men for land and honour, what we care about is at whose breasts the next heir suckles.” As you might expect Sir Williard, what followed was a rather vigorous reenactment of the story, I believe in all modesty, that I played the part of Sir Robert Clive quite well, and Saminya did a wonderful job as the beautiful Newabi sensually surrendering first her silk robes and then her maidenhead to the conquering hero of Plassey.

She left over two hours ago, wearing the nurse’s uniform that looked even sexier after last night’s coupling, leaving me wondering what will happen if all the Hindi families are as proud as her. When the Indian settlers that have been on this planet for twenty years longer than the English noble families start gaining citizenship and positions in the Company they will not accept the status-quo. As I said before, change is coming to this planet Sir Williard, and I’m afraid that many of the English Colonials are too busy playing their games of sexual immorality to even see it coming.

That is a matter for a later time. I now have little less than three hours to make my decision to Dr. Miller known.