Showing posts from October, 2023
Adhiraja Ishaan Dev was at the Lord’s feet in the temple shrine through the night as Neelambargarh prayed for their queen. Maharani Priyambada had fainted in the arena and had been attended to by the medicine men since then. It was Vrinda who rushed out of the inner palace towards the temple in urgency, looking for the Adhiraja to hold her breath and declare, “The Maharani is awake and looking for you. The heir is unharmed.” Adhiraja Ishaan Dev said a soft prayer of gratitude, wiped his eyes discreetly and followed Vrinda into the palace in urgency. Maharani Priyambada clutched the pillow to her chest as she let out a wail. What had she done? She killed her mother. Would the gods forgive her for such a sin? Her mother! She looked at her now clean hands and beat her forehead with them, almost like a mad woman, making Urvi intervene. “What are you doing, Maharani? You will hurt yourself.” “What did I do, Urvi? Did you see that? That is not me. That is not…” She hid her face in the pillow...
The dawn in Neelambargarh was unusually silent. No ladies were gossiping in the gardens collecting flowers, no maids chattering in the corridors, no sound of the Veena from Priyambada’s room and no sound of the anklets and music from the Kothi. The dead silence of the calm morning was broken by the sound of horse hooves. Priyambada stretched her eyes and rubbed them as she sat up on the bed. She had spent a sleepless night, staring numbly at the ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, Tarabai’s lifeless face seemed to float in front of her, and she shuddered. She sat up on the bed and sighed. Gently putting her hand on her belly, she looked around the room. There was no sign of Adhiraja Ishaan Dev. He hadn’t come into the chambers the entire night. Worried, Priyambada clapped her hands for the maid in waiting. As Vrinda helped her with a hot bath silently, Priyambada felt her tired, tense muscles giving up. She shook herself awake and ordered some breakfast in the king’s bedchambers. ...
The emergency bells rang through the silent night sky as Priyambada sat up alert, her face pale. The last time the bells sounded like that was during the war with Suryapali. The sound that she had hoped to have forgotten brought back haunting memories of the past. Her hand travelled instinctively to her belly as the bells stopped at three. Four meant war calls. But three? Three meant a suspicious or sudden attack on someone, causing death. Priyambada stood up instinctively, removing her cover as the maids rushed to her side. “Urvi!! Urvi?” She called on her trusted housekeeper urgently, “Where is the Adhiraja?” Before Urvi could present herself before her mistress and Vrinda could go out to look into the matter, it was Sehri who came and bowed. Teary-eyed, she almost whispered “Ta… Tarabai!” Priyambada’s throat felt dry as the girl suddenly burst into tears, and Vrinda instinctively held her. “Get Urvi to call Devdoot, and tell him to inform Adhiraja!” She was about to walk out of...
Tarabai approached Ishaan Dev with slow, measured steps, following Mallal into his chambers after he summoned her. She stood at a distance watching him doing something with his back to her, her heart thumping in her chest. Tiny droplets of perspiration appeared on her forehead, and her lips felt dry. “Where is it?” Ishaan Dev glanced over his shoulder while admiring the cleaned sheath of his sword, when Tarabai’s face turned pale. “Wha… what?” Her voice stuttered as Ishaan Dev frowned, confused and turned to face her. “You said you are going to the temple. Where are the offerings?” He asked firmly. A little relieved by his query, Tarabai smiled faintly, still unsure of what he knew. Was he testing her? She asked for his permission and proceeded to go back to her chambers, and in the faint light of the lamp, her hand reached the pouch beside the offerings. She shuddered, immediately letting it go as it rolled over the cold floor while she picked up the offerings wrapped in th...
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Tarabai travelled miles away from Neelambargarh’s fort into the dense forest lands of Dhuari that covered the roads leading to Suryapali. In the forestland beside the river Maya that meandered in the winters and surged in the rains, Tarabai’s small entourage of soldiers, the palanquin bearers and Sehri stopped at a temple. The temple was small, but its stone-carved figurines told stories of time immemorial, of ancestors of the land who had protected it with their blood. Inside the shrine sat the Lord in his meditative position, the stone-cold statue wet with the single drops of water that fell on his head from the vessel suspended above. The day was windy, and Tarabai had to pull her drape closer to her body as she stepped into the temple premises, welcomed by the tinkling of the thousands of tiny bells that were suspended from the ceiling above. Tarabai folded her hands in prayer. Her mind was at peace, her heart felt heavy. The past few days had been her best time with the Adhiraja. ...
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Last updated: February 4, 2026.
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