That’s a terribly huge turban! exclaims the maiden from behind her veil. Biting her tongue the very next moment, she hopes that she hasn’t been heard; but she has been, loud and clear, in spite of the man’s ears being almost completely hidden under the twisted folds of his extravagant turban. The scene is abuzz with angry but unintelligible noises and voices that seem to be coming from far behind. With a flash the man turns his head and lets his unearthly brown eyes fall upon the young maiden. She trembles with the anxiety, and excitement of having spoken out of turn to an absolute stranger. His curled moustache twitches as he smiles, revealing a set of dazzling white teeth. Thus encouraged, the curious maiden plucks her courage one more time and ventures, Why is it so huge? The man laughs out loud, once again beguiling the maiden with his sparkling white teeth and replies Well, of course it’s huge. It’s full of stories!
You lie, she scoffs. Why would I? Every fold stores a hundred stories! He starts to walk again. Unable to resist the thrill of talking to a stranger, the maiden dumps her water pots and begins to follow him, struggling to match up to his lengthy strides. Tell me more! The man smiles once again and instead of replying he pulls out a flute-like instrument from his tattered bag. Let me tell you a story… and he begins to play the most unheard of tunes that astonishingly strike chord with the maiden’s best suppressed demons and desires. Before she knows it, she is dancing to the man’s awfully undeniable tunes. Village to village, road to road, river to river, they wander with music in their hearts and dance in their souls. Carnivals await them, kids chase them with glee, old men curse them and young ones try joining them. Hundreds of legends begin to swell around and about this vagabond couple, each more preposterously colourful than the previous.
One night, the man halts near a riverbed between two villages. For the first time since they met, he stops playing; with a jerk, the maiden stops dancing. Fast tears fill her eyes and spill down her face. She knows what is to come; she’s known it for a while. In utter silence he lifts her veil, in utter blankness they undress each other, in utter darkness they fuck. She unfurls into another orgasm, and he folds her echoing moans carefully between his tongue and fingers. He stares at her delicate cadaver while undoing his huge turban. Between the shades of blue and orange, he places their story and wraps the colossal turban around his head once again. That night he sleeps, with his arms enveloping her corpse as if in tribute and thanks. At the first lilt of the thrush’s song, the man begins to walk once again. His ears catch faint buzzes of a growing outrage over the dead body of young maiden on the riverbank behind him; against the chaos, he hears another dulcet voice exclaim, “But that is such a large turban!” The man smiles and readies his flute once again.