Chapter 2 One

The land of the Bagyar sultanate. A prosperous country with a strong desert culture. Led by a sultan, this country adheres to a monarchy system that has lasted as long as it was formed. The government center is in the city of Bagyar, including the sultan's palace, central market, schools, hospitals, places of worship, and other busy centers. In the rest, there are only small villages whose residents work as farmers, gardeners, river fishers, and blacksmiths.

The social strata strongly influence monarchical government in society, so it is not surprising that the differences between the nobility and ordinary people are here. Middle-class people are a little lucky because they have a place in the social strata that prevail in society; the rest who are in the lower class have to resign themselves to the fate of being lowly people. However, a person's social strata can change over time, depending on the cause. For example, what just happened: a girl from a middle-class family married a wealthy older man. I heard that the man had a large wheat field and was a jewelry craftsman. The girl's fate is miserable; her wedding party is in the city square, with decorated tents full of flowers and tasty food, and the guests are from the nobility. When the festive and luxurious party was held, Mirza and I worked as waiters at the party whose job was to collect the guests' used dinner plates and take them to the washing place. I could see the mood of that poor girl; her name was Dariyah. She seemed resigned and primarily silent; her gaze stared blankly at the guests. Dariyah's smile looked forced when the guests approached him, while his parents and husband looked happy and enjoying the moment, which should also be pleasing for the girl.

Another example is me. In contrast to Dariyah, who rose in class, although her marriage was an attempt by her parents to instantly move up in caste by selling their daughter to a lonely older man without caring about her feelings, as long as they could change their fate quickly. Is it wrong? For some people, maybe not, because they think it doesn't violate norms because marriage is permitted, but have they ever thought about the feelings that will go into that marriage? Is he ready? Does he want to? The answers can vary, back to me. My adoptive parents came from the nobility; my adoptive father had a fruit and vegetable garden with fertile land at the foot of a mountain. It made my adoptive father successful as a supplier of fresh fruit and vegetables in the central market, even entering the palace.

I once experienced life as a noble class; even though it was only temporary, it was something to be grateful for. It's true; life is like a wheel; if you're at the top, remember the bottom because time can take someone in a direction they didn't expect. I never thought I would lose everything, but I also didn't know this was the end of my life. My adoptive father sent me to school outside the city; the physician profession was the rarest and considered honorable at that time. I decided to become one of the physicians in this country. I wanted my adoptive parents to be proud and wanted to be an adopted child who did not disappoint. One year has passed abroad; my education is going well and satisfactorily. I am a fast-learning student with satisfactory grades; my adoptive parents are increasingly motivating me to continue studying and complete my education. When news of the fire tragedy reached my ears, the world seemed to collapse beneath my feet. Everything seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, from the son of a wealthy merchant to an orphan who was forgotten and had nothing but what I had. No longer able to pay for education, I decided to quit and look for work to raise money to return to Bagyar. It takes work to accept changes in fate, especially if you start from a high position and then fall to the bottom. Only some people can be intense. I was like that at first. However, who else can I rely on? Meanwhile, I have become alone; the decision is entirely mine. If I cannot survive, then I have to end my life.

Making it home to Bagyar gives me hope because I still hope someone will recognize me and get something from what my adoptive parents left behind. However, it seemed Goddess Fortuna was napping; I was even considered a liar when I told her who I was. I don't know what happened while I was away from Bagyar, but everything changed when I returned. My adoptive father's plantation land belonged to the Bagyar sultanate, including the land where my old house was located, which at that time was just rubble from a fire. I was forgotten because I was not listed among the heirs for all the property my adoptive father owned. I also visited the orphanage where my adoptive parents took me, hoping that I could be accommodated there again. At the same time, I worked, but the place did not accommodate adults, and the aid they received was limited, so accepting additional people meant increasing costs. Finally, I started living as a homeless person. Sleeping in front of a shop on the side of the road, or anywhere as long as my body can lie down and my eyes are closed, the few things I have that still have selling value have been used up to buy my stomach's needs, all that's left is the clothes I've worn for days, trousers made of cotton with elastic at the ankles, a long-sleeved knee-length shirt that was twice the size of my body, and a veil. Finally, I met Mirza at a moment that makes me a little traumatized when I think back on it.

I was accused of stealing by one of the male patrons drinking at the dance bar. That night, I worked there as one of the drink delivery people. I refused the man when he wanted to touch and treat me like the female entertainers who worked at the dancing bar. Of course, I had to decline; I didn't work there as an entertainer. Finally, he accused me of stealing his gold necklace, and I was threatened with prison, but he offered a deal. I would be freed if I could sleep with him that night. By the holy Maryam! Even until I die, I will never give my virginity to a man like him. After defending myself and spitting in his face that night, I immediately ran out of the bar with his bodyguards chasing him. It turned out that the man was a member of the palace. Running in no particular direction, I finally reached a dead end in a narrow alley between buildings; as the male bodyguards approached, I heard the voice of someone calling me from above. At first, I was confused and didn't believe my hearing because, at that time, the atmosphere around me was pretty dark until Mirza's face, which was illuminated by the oil lamp he was holding at that time, appeared from behind the top window of one of the buildings around me, to be precise from the building located next to me. Behind me, not long afterward, a brick staircase appeared from the side of the building where Mirza was; the woman immediately told me to climb the stairs. Without wasting any time, I immediately followed her orders until I reached the window where she was; the woman helped me jump through the window and enter a room.

"What did you do to them?" Mirza asked as we sat leaning against the wall near the large window. I let her wait for my answer while catching her breath, and the situation became calmer due to running without stopping for quite a long radius.

"I spat in their boss's face," I answered after ensuring I was starting to speak. Mirza laughed and asked again, "Why did you do that?"

Turning to look at her, the woman seemed to be waiting for my answer. Then I told her what had happened to me at the dancing bar. That night was the beginning of our friendship; just like me, she was an orphan from an orphanage, but the orphanage where she came from burned down when she was seven years old, only she managed to save herself from that unfortunate tragedy. She was the same as me, forgotten and didn't have anything. We lived homeless together, and I was grateful to have met her.

At least I don't feel alone anymore. Mirza taught me much about survival skills; she has lived a homeless life longer than me. A year passed, and I began to accept the reality that happened to me and slowly but surely followed the flow of energy. I'm starting to feel like there's still hope if my life isn't over, but I'm enjoying it.

Being a person who doesn't have anything makes me feel free mentally and in my thoughts; the fear and worry about the wheel of life's fate that keeps turning fades away, making me feel lighter through the days. After all, now I am at the bottom of the wheel of life's fate, and who knows when I will crawl back up? I still have hope on one side of me, just a simple hope that God will not give me life in vain as long as I am still breathing.