RAABTA

“And just like a miracle, the world had never seen The Sun and Wind pledged peace in the plains The Maya blessed and The Heemdevi praised And Akhilesh Ranjan is mesmerised by them.” It was the Rajputra who stood up once Akhilesh Ranjan finished his poem. For a moment he thought he had offended the prince but Rajputra Mrityunjoy praised him followed by his peers around them cheering as the Rajputra took a ring out of his finger and handed it to a grateful poet. “When I become king…” He made the cheers stop with a hand gesture, “You will be my court poet. I give you my word.” Akhilesh Ranjan couldn’t believe his ears. What would his father say now? He bowed to the prince again and again. Amidst the cheering crowd, Raj Kunwar Shankar Aditya made his way to find the prince of Neelambargarh once again lost in poetry. He shook his head at the commoners around him who bowed and gave his friend a warning glance. That made Rajputra Mrityunjoy disperse the session of poets as he went and hugged

Ravi Varman expected his people to be disappointed but instead, there were celebrations in Suryapali like they had won a battle. He received a hero’s welcome. People poured on the streets, some shedding tears of joy watching their loved ones march back home. Some prayed and others cheered. Some women rushed into the troops to find and hug their children and husbands. Others wailed finding their men absent from the troops. But the people of Suryapali hailed their king. Perhaps they were glad that it was over after all. Ravi Varman was overwhelmed to see his children at the threshold of the inner palace as soon as he got down from his horse. Maharani Sumedha wiped away her tears as Chinmayi ran to her father. He walked up the steps holding her hand and took Aruna Dev in his arms. Then he smiled at Sumedha. She suggested him to rest but he wanted her to see him in court. Suddenly her smile faded. She knew why. Ravi Varman made sure she met Trinayani Devi first and apologised in person. He

Raja Viraj struggled to open his eyes to find the structure of the tent above his head. One of the nurses murmured something and the next moment he could feel some of them walking around in urgency. He tried hard to open his eyes fully but he felt drowsy. Observing how his pain was numbed he assumed it was the medication and fell back asleep. The next time he woke was because he heard the trinkets of a royal lady near him. “Smriti?” He whispered as his lips moved a little and he once again tried to open his eyes.  “What are you trying to say?” The old medicine man leaned in. The Maharani of Neelambargarh walked up to the other side of the bed. “No, it’s me. Priya.” She said leaning a little over him. “Are you fine now?” Her voice trembled. Raja Viraj opened his eyes with great difficulty. Seeing Priyambada made him a little disoriented. Where was he? Was he dreaming? “You killed him.” The medicine man said “And now you are fine. Have some wine.” He chuckled amused himself before gather

Vamsi Gupta was disturbed and distracted. He had just met his ailing son the night before and he was sure he wouldn’t survive another night. But Vamsi Gupta had a duty to perform. Ravi Varman had trusted his years of experience for the war of his life. He couldn’t let his king down. Ever since he remembered, his family had served the kings of Suryapali. And no amount of personal loss had stopped them. He had to live up to his family name and expectations. Raja Viraj had made the strategies for the day. The previous night he was with the accountants and finance minister in a long meeting where they told him very clearly that Neelambargarh’s treasury was not going to survive if the war went on much longer. He had to pull out his aces and get over with it fast. He knew the king would want him to take the call and he did, making sure he called all the surviving generals and allies with the clear instruction. Target the main people. No more straying around. If it were up to him he would hav

Rajmata Ratnawati made her way through the spiral staircase of the dark damp dungeon into the new imprisonment area of Trinayani Devi. She had been moved to accommodate prisoners of war and for her safety. It was not unknown to the Rajmata how holding her had the upper hand over Ishaan Dev. But now she was desperate. She had heard Sumedha and Haimanti talk. Heard how Haimanti blamed her and Trishaan Dev for everything. Ratnawati agreed that the girl was not lying but her son was not naïve. He agreed to things they planned and executed knowing its consequences. He was not a child. Now suddenly when things were going haywire she was the enemy? Ratnawati had made tall claims about her son. Expected him to be less like his father or brother. She was wrong. But what she was going to do would cause a ripple effect across the dynasty. Ishaan Dev would be furious. And an emotional Ishaan Dev made mistakes. She had seen that before. The primary one was the one he called wife. Ratnawati grunted

Maharaja Ishaan Dev rode Vidyut right from the centre of the Syena formation of the Neelambargarhi soldiers into the disc formation of the Suryapalians. He had to reach the centre to find Ravi Varman accompanied by the Raja of Gandak and the Raja of Vairath. He was running in sharp turns across the field, holding his sword in one hand and the club in the other. He watched how Suryapalians used the pits they dug into grounds as a barrier against raining arrows and catapults and saw some of them cudgel Neelambargarhi soldiers to death as soon as they ran into their pits. He eyed Raja Girik in his Sangramika chariot running towards Ravi Varman’s circle and he stopped Vidyut, slashing a soldier charging at him on his way. Then he turned to watch Trishaan Dev in a fight with General Daksh. He had managed to throw the general from his horse that ran away and was one blow away from bludgeoning him to death. “Spare the pawns now, will you Trishaan?” Trishaan Dev stopped as the voice came from

When Bards romanticise wars as battles between right and wrong, when History is written by court chronicles of the winner, and when events are questioned or re-evaluated thousands of years later, it is only a shadow of the actual brutality of war and not what happened. Watching thousands of bodies cover the bloody grounds day after day at dusk, being dragged away to be burnt on the banks of Maya, thousands more injured, fighting for their lives, screaming in agony after losing their hands or legs, a man with a register inspecting bodies and noting down names, the names would eventually turn to exaggerated numbers in the court depending on which side won, workers working at the battlefield from dusk to dawn, picking up bodies and dragging away broken weapons to clear the field for the next day; everything that was never written about was witnessed by kings. Perhaps that hardened them and made them devoid of emotions over battles.  Fear makes people do strange things. Never in his life h