Dawn

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 and cried. Urvi wiped her tears and stood up as she heard the Adhiraja approach.

“Leave us alone.” He commanded as the maids and nurses flocked out of the chambers. Priyambada looked up at him as he rushed to hug her, and she sobbed again.

“Oh, what have I done! I didn’t ever mean to kill her.”

“I know. But she meant to kill you.” Ishaan Dev placed his hand on her head and reminded her gently as Priyambada looked up at his face, still horrified. “And if you don’t kill those who harm you, you will be killed. That is the law of war.”

“She was my mother!’ Priyambada shook her head and cried again as Ishaan Dev held her. “I know Priya. I understand.”

“And yet, I feel sorry for myself for having experienced this rather than being sad at her demise,” Priyambada confessed as though her voice was distant. “She was my mother, yet all I feel is sorry for myself, worried for my sin, my image and my state.”

“You are now a true queen.” Ishaan Dev reminded her. “It is never wrong to think of yourself first.”

“But what about my child? If I am so self-centred, do I deserve to be a mother? What if I end up like…”

“You will be nothing like your mother, Priya.” Ishaan Dev spoke firmly. “I wanted to let you know, while you were unconscious, I took the liberty of allowing Priyam Dev to do the last rites at the banks of Maya. He was escorted by the guards and would be locked up again, at dawn, hopefully for the rest of his life.” Priyambada nodded, wiping away her tears.

“We couldn’t do Father or Prithvi’s last rites.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “Oh, is Prithvi hating me right now? And father?”

“No, Priya. They are not. They were kings and princes. They know the price of the throne. If Prithvi were on the throne today and Priyam rebelled against him, he would have gotten Priyam executed. That is how it is. I am sorry you have to learn it this way.” Something in Ishaan Dev’s voice calmed Priyambada as she gasped for breath, tired of crying, as she clutched onto his clothes for dear life. Ishaan Dev tried to pacify her by patting her gently, and when she was calm enough, he ordered Urvi to bring food and water. Priyambada reluctantly let him feed her as the image of her mother’s blood-soaked body suddenly reappeared in her mind’s eyes, making her feel nauseated. Ishaan Dev stayed awake by her side all night, refusing the constant help Vrinda and Urvi offered as she vomited in disgust, slept tired and cried awake from nightmares.

Ishaan Dev didn’t know when he had fallen asleep beside her when her movement alerted him. When Ishaan Dev opened his eyes, he found the first rays of dawn lit up Priyambada’s pale face as she sat up on the bed, looking out at the sky turning a shade brighter. At least she wasn’t crying. Ishaan Dev noticed her rubbing her hand over her womb absentmindedly as he smiled faintly, placing his hand over hers. Priyambada jolted a little as he sat up beside her and placed her head silently on his shoulder.

“Will we be able to keep the child safe?” Her question made him frown.

“Of course, we will.”

“What if he rebels against you for the throne? Will you kill him then?” Adhiraja Ishaan Dev stared at his wife, a little taken aback by her question. “Of course, you will.”

“Or we will give him the throne and retire to Siyori for the rest of our lives. Like you once told me, your grandfather did.” Ishaan Dev tightened his grip on her hand, reassuringly trying to smile faintly. Priyambada shook her head.

“And what will you do there? Farm animals?”

“Why not? I am good with horses, ask Vidyut!” Ishaan Dev hoped to make her smile. Instead, Priyambada sighed. “A king is nothing without a throne.” She said firmly. “Grandmother always said so… but then father used to argue that it is the people who make a king, not the throne or the crown.” Ishaan Dev sat up and cleared his throat.

“I will agree with your father on that one. A true king is always a king wherever he goes.”

“I thought about something.” Her words made Ishaan Dev stare at her intently as she looked up at him, “About what you said about Prithvi…”

“I apologise.” Ishaan Dev shook his head. “I didn’t know how to calm you…”

“You were right.” Priyambada made him stop. “He would have done so. Once, when we were playing in the garden, Priyam took his dagger and ran. That dagger was given by Father on Prithvi’s declaration as heir. He was so mad he threatened to hurt Priyam with it.” Priyambada shook her head. “Kumar Viraj had intervened.” For the first time, Ishaan Dev observed Priyambada open up about her otherwise “perfect” brother’s flaws. He was a bit taken aback because Priyambada, subconsciously through her words and stories, had painted in his mind the picture of a perfect prince.

“Brothers fight like that.” Ishaan Dev shook his head. “Whatever I had, Ravi always wanted the same one. If he got the same one, he always thought mine was better.” He smiled a little at memories of his childhood, which he had long forgotten in the turmoil of kingship. Memories of Trishaan Dev, Ravi Varman and himself being a unit, stronger than everyone around them, once upon a time. The bond of the boys often made Rajadhiraja Trikal Dev say that they would be invincible when Ishaan becomes king, Ravi Varman his prime minister and Trishaan Dev his advisor. He wasn’t sure anymore.

“I have something to tell you.” Priyambada interrupted his chain of thoughts as he nodded.

“I also have something to ask, about General Unmukt saying…” Ishaan Dev was unsure if the scars were too raw to discuss, but he wanted to know.

‘I was going to talk about that only. I met him in the prison cell.”

“Alone?’ Ishaan Dev gasped. “That is not safe for you, Priya.”

“Devdoot was with me.” She reassured him as she continued. “He said the person he met for aid wasn’t Trishaan Dev. Or at least him alone.”

“Who else was it then?” Ishaan Dev sat up with a frown.

“Rajputra Ravi Varman.” Priyambada studied Ishaan Dev’s face as soon as she uttered the name. She perhaps anticipated surprise, but Ishaan Dev showed none. Instead, he smiled, shook his head and sighed.

“I expected that of him. It is Trishaan’s actions that hurt me more. But what can we say? You were right, Priya. Kingship knows no kinship.” He looked up at her. “I am all alone in the place I call home and among the people I call family. I can trust nobody and…” Priyambada made him stop by putting her cold hand over his lips.

“The place you call home is here, and your family is us.” She placed his hand over her womb. “And we are here with you.”

“You are.” Ishaan Dev agreed and appeared to be thinking.

“What is the next course of action?” Priyambada seemed to read his mind.

“I will inform Father of this treason. He will do the needful with the bastard.”

Trishaan Dev held the letter with the broken seal of Neelambargarh over the burning lamp and watched it turn to ashes with a smile. He had read the contents of the letter, from Ishaan Dev to the Rajadhiraja, accusing Ravi Varman and him of treason against the crown prince of Suryapali and an attempt at assassination on his wife, for which he mentioned there was proof. He heard footsteps outside his chamber and was quick enough to sweep the ashes under the rug before Rajkumari Mandakini Devi appeared before him at his threshold.

Happy Ending

Dheer had a sleepless night. Yes, she had killed the Maharani, but to seek revenge for her son. Jagmal was all she had for a dream, and Rana Pratap's first decision was to banish him. He had never been that tough with his other brothers who went with Akbar, then why him? Just because he wanted to be a king? Just because they brought a false letter and bought a few witnesses? Her son died in Ajmer, so young. And she had always blamed Ajabdeh Punwar for Rana's hard decision. After all, ever since she came as a support for Jaivanta Bai, she had been like his shield, even though creating misunderstandings didn't help Dheer Bai Bhatiyani. Ajabdeh had done the impossible, showing him the real face of his Chotima. What bothered Dheer now was whether he remembered anything, and most importantly, if she did. Dheer had turned pale at the song and smile Pratap gave, but if he knew she had killed Ajabdeh, it meant Survi remembered her walking to a dying Ajabdeh and confessing that ...

My Everything

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Sibling's Day

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His Wife

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To Protect You

Kunwar Pratap was in the court with Rana Udai Singh. The Mughals were conquering a huge part of the north courtesy of Bairam Khan and Mewar on their routes to the ports of Surat. " Daajiraj, we need to secure the roads leading to Agra and also towards the west. The attack-prone areas should always be under surveillance." " Yes, Ranaji. Baojiraj is right." Rawatji agreed. In the Rani Mahal, everyone was preparing for a grand lunch. Ajabdeh was making a drink for the princes and princesses, and in a hurry, she forgot to add the Kesar and Badam on top. As she served the smaller princes, including Kunwar Jagmal, Dheerbai came to inspect her eldest son's food. " What is this? Who made this? Kokoiaji?" She stormed to the kitchen with a bowl of sweet dishes. " Kunwaranisa did." Came a scary answer, from Veer Bai. " Ajabdeh Baisa." Her words let out a silent gasp from the lesser queens who stood witness. Calm and composed, Ajabdeh walke...

The Adventure of PI Ved: The Case in London

There is something funny about the phrase “as dead as a doornail.” Why? Because I am dead and I don’t look like a nail of any sort. I lie on my living room carpet, hands stretched out, the knife stuck to my back...such a backstabber. I hated them all my life! And what is the purpose of killing me? It is not like I would have lived much longer, I was eighty-five, for God’s sake! I lay here, the blood turning thick as I stared at the painting on the wall. It is such a hideous painting. I bought it for so much money, I was duped. I am waiting for the morning when my caregiver arrives to discover me on the floor. But I feel they are still around, looking for something. Searching every room. It is around 7 AM that she rings the bell. She bangs the door. She yells out, “Mr Smith!” Oh no, she is going back. Come back here, you fool! The criminal must still be upstairs. I hear them come down the wooden staircase and exit from the back door. Now the useless caregiver lady is back. Oh, she ...

Begum Sahib: An Introduction and chronology

Note to the readers: Women behind men in history fascinate me. I had been reading about the mothers and wives who changed men’s fortunes. But what about daughters and sisters? A few months back, I was looking for books on Mughal Ladies, mainly Noor Jahan and her work. In the bibliography credits, I had chanced upon “The Life of A Mogul Princess” By Jahanara Begum, the daughter of Shah Jahan. I had no idea about the book and thought it was another autobiography. Previously, I had read only about how she was imprisoned along with her father at Agra, and her involvement with Dara Shikoh, her younger brother, in connecting the two realms of Hinduism and Islamism and the establishment of Sufism. All of these and the chronological events of history can be found in various books. As I read each page of her diary, cross-checking each point with Jagunath Sircar’s “History of Aurangzib” and R.C. Majumder’s “Mughal Empire” as well as numerous other sources on the Mughal Harem, I discovered ...

Eternally Yours

Ajabdeh woke up to find neither the pillow nor the husband beside her. That was really unusual. Has she overslept? No, it was dark, and the first birds were singing. She sat up to find that he had neatly arranged the pillows and made his side of the bed, and put his blanket over her. She checked the changing room. No, he was not there, but unlike other days, his clothes were not in a mess. She freshened up and reached the dressing table. His brooch was not there. Where is he? Has the war... Her heart skipped a beat. What if he had left and not even woken her up? " Daasi? Daasi?" She called out as one of them walked in. " Ji Kuwaranisa?" " Where is Kunwarsa?" " He left early in the morning for Dangal and then a visit to the village. Do you need anything?" " No, you may go now." She put on the sindoor in worry. Maybe something urgent has come up. She walked to the Puja room and was shocked. Her garlands were made, the Chandan was in plac...

RAABTA

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