“Oh Soldier! You cannot be a native.”

The voice had been startling enough, and he turned to meet a sight no less astonishing. A young woman, dressed in a curious mix of men’s and women’s clothes, was riding a horse skilfully. She came to stop near him.

“Why would you think so?” he asked cautiously, though still disconcerted by the absurdity of the situation. There was nothing in the soldier’s attire to give away that he did not belong to the place. She couldn’t have divined it from his speech, because she hadn’t heard him speak till then. And what on earth was a woman doing in a jungle, dressed like that, riding a horse? Did they have female dacoits in this area?

“If you were, you would have known better than to pluck that fruit to eat. You won’t have any control over your stomach from the moment you as much as smell it.”

“Is that so?”

“You can try. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn.”

“It seems like a divine warning. I won’t dare.”

“Divine?” she frowned.

“Well – it isn’t every day that I see women riding horses and cautioning soldiers. Either you are a dacoit, or an incarnation of Devi Durga. And you look too kind, despite your severe clothing, to be the former.”

She laughed. He had never heard a woman laugh like that. It was a hearty laughter. A laughter with no pretense, not agenda, no hidden motive, nothing except the expression of amusement she felt. He found himself mesmerized by it and had to exert some efforts to come to himself.

“I am sorry to disappoint,” said the woman with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “That I am neither a dacoit, nor an incarnation of someone divine. I am a mortal woman.”

“Am I to understand then that citizens of Chandranagar are used to sights such as these?” he referred to her attire and horse-riding.

“Not at all.”

“How am I, an outsider, so fortunate then?”

“Because you have had the fortune of meeting King Chandravarna’s daughter,” she said haughtily, “Nobody can stop me from doing what I want.” With she turned her horse back, and before he could recover from the shock her declaration had caused, she was out of his sight.

—

King Bhumimitra returned to his quarters in Chandranagar’s royal guest house. His impending wedding to Chandranagar’s pricess Madhumita was arranged with the view of making the two states allies. King Chandravarna had no son of his own. It was decided that Madhumita’s eldest son would succeed him to the throne of Chandranagar, apart from the Bhanumitra’s own kingdom of Raigarh. What was also implied, but not said, was that given King Chandravarna’s age and falling health, Bhumimitra would be the practical ruler of Chandranagar too, until the son was born and was of age to hold the reins of the kingdom.

His sojourn in the jungle was a preparation for the responsibility of managing Chandranagar that was to fall on him with the wedding. If he had to rule the state, he needed to know the terrain, the people and everything about the kingdom. He wasn’t the kind of depend on his assistants for ground-work. It was a recipe of disaster for the ruler to lose touch with the ground realities, his father used to say. He had built his kingdom in Raigarh from scratch. Bhumimitra’s own experience had never given him the reason to doubt this wisdom.

Until now this wedding had been nothing but a necessary chore to him. He was disinterested in the preparations and had mechanically done what people around him had asked him to do. Once they had reached Chandranagar, most of his time had gone into information gathering and planning for the political and military tasks that lay ahead of him. He had never had a moment to spare for the thought of his  would-be wife. His second wife to be exact. He hadn’t been particularly interested in his first marriage either. He was much younger then. And was much more interested in his sports and hunting than in acquiring a wife. Although neither then, nor now, was he unacquainted with the pleasures of female company. But princes and kings didn’t marry for those pleasures. Pleasure was available more readily and in better form elsewhere. They married for duty.  With his second marriage, he would expand his military influence. Besides he needed to beget a son. His first wife, beautiful and graceful as she was, had failed to give him any children.

But now he was restless and for the first time thought about his bride. Was that her he had met? That woman wandering in jungles on horseback wearing that strange dress? Just a day before her wedding? Could she really be the princess of Chandranagar? After changing into comfortable resting clothes with the help of his aide, Bhumimitra tried to think carefully. He recalled the horse. No doubt it was good enough to be the star of even a royal stable. What about the woman herself? She hadn’t conversed with him in Sanskrit, but in the local tongue of commoners.  She couldn’t be the princess… But she had taken him to be a common soldier. That could explain her choice of language. How did she look? There was obviously no attempt at a purdah, and yet he couldn’t recall a lot about her face. The features were soft and kindly for sure. But most of her face was obscured by a scarf and a bandanna she was wearing. He hadn’t had a glimpse of her hair either. He couldn’t recall any other feature of hers vividly, except her eyes. They had glown with amusement, laughter and mischief alternately. And yet, were there signs of the grooming of a princess? Probably…

But what was he to make of the situation? If that woman was indeed going to be his wife, what did it mean for him?

His thought about his preferences. He had always liked women who challenged him. He didn’t expect to find it in his first wife. She surrendered out of duty. And he didn’t expect anything different from his second wife either.  His mistresses and professionals were different. Because they were adept at sensing their client’s preferences and were ever ready to play to his tastes. He knew it was a pretense, but it was best that could be had. But now… A smile formed on his lips. If she was indeed the princess, how he would love to tame her wildness in the bed. And otherwise, if necessary.

But it could all be a prank. It could be some common girl living out her fantasy of being a princess with such announcements. That horse though… In any case, he would not get too excited.

It was the eve of his wedding. He would relax and take a break from planning the future of Chandranagar’s administration. He deserved a break once in a while. His well-wishers often accused him of overworking himself. Even if he agreed with them, he couldn’t be otherwise. Apart from the kingdom of Raigarh, he had also inherited workaholism from his father.

—

To be continued