Lover’s Eyes (Part 1)

Posted 7 CommentsPosted in English, Mukundo-Piyali, Original

“No. No Piyali. Don’t see that…”

Mukundo was too late. She had impertinently uncovered the canvass. As he had anticipated, she was shocked. But only for a moment. Then she turned to him. Her face was red and there was a hint of nervousness in her countenance. But her voice was clear.

“It is the woman who had come with you the other day.”

“Yes,” now that she had already seen it, he decided to act the way he would have acted before anybody who was not expected to understand. Nonchalant. But when she continued to stand there, silent, and not giving any hint of how she felt, he grew concerned. He had this strange relationship with Piyali. She belonged to his world. At least a part of her. But for the rest, she had been brought up conservatively by her parents. Although rare, there were parts of his world that he hadn’t exposed her to. Because those would be blasphemy in her world and too scandalous. To top that, she adulated him. This exposure could be confusing, potentially traumatic for her. She was barely nineteen. “Look Piyali,” he decided to explain gently, like he explained Mathematics and History to her, “This is nothing bad… Drawing or painting a nude model is a common practice in art classes. It is nothing…” He stopped. He had meant to say ‘sexual’, but felt odd before her.

“Why her?” her question took him by surprise. His brows furrowed as he tried to think what exactly she wanted to find out.

“Well… there have been others,” he replied hoping to clarify that she wasn’t a lover.

“Why them?”

This girl would drive him crazy. What was she up to?

“They are…” he tried to think of an appropriate answer on the go, “They are my muses.”

“So am I.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am also your muse. You have done my paintings. Why not me?”

“What!” he was lost for words for a few seconds. “Run away, you stupid girl,” he finally managed to say, “And don’t talk like this before anybody else. They will think you are foolish and dep…” He stopped once again. He knew exactly what people would think of her if she talked like that. Deprave. But he couldn’t use that word before her.

He turned away from her pretending to pick up some book to read. He didn’t want to continue this conversation. He was acutely aware that he was acting like a parent trying to avoid an embarrassing question from a young child. But what could he do?

He was relieved as well as worried when he heard her stepping out of the room. Or was she running out? What did she think of his admonition? Damn! Did he not handle it right?

What should he have done? She had now grown up! Right before his eyes. And with every passing year, she had placed herself even more firmly in his life. She was the only one who came to this room. The room where he painted; and read; and wasted his time. Her mother, Debangi, believed that he did only the last of those. In the room and outside. Wasting his time. Because he could afford to. With his family wealth. She didn’t want Piyali to be spending any time with him. But that was one thing in which she defied her mother. She didn’t listen to her. She came there and sat with him for hours. Talking about everything under the sun.  Doing her homework. Looking at his paintings. Reading with him. Not bothered about his reputation. And hers for that matter.

When she was younger, she would innocently ask him about every objection made against his character.  “Do you drink too much, Mukundo Babu?” she had asked innocently once, “Everyone says it is not good.”

He had laughed, “Who says that?”

“Ma,” she had replied sheepishly. At that age all the opinions and information came to her from her mother only.

He had shaken his head trying to avoid talking further on that. But she had pressed on, “Why do you drink?”

“It gives me peace, and inspiration. To paint.”

“But it is bad, isn’t it?”

“It would be bad, if it made me a bad person. Am I one? A bad person?”

“No.”

“Then? What is the problem?”

She had not argued further then, but she had come back at a later occasion.

“I don’t like it Mukundo Babu. Ma says you are not a good person.”

“Tell her, Piyali, that I might be a bad person. But I will never let any harm come to you.”

“She is never convinced with that.”

“Then probably you should not come to me.”

“Why not? You don’t drink before me.”

Memories of yet another day crossed his mind.

“Why don’t you get married, Mukundo Babu?”

“And who is asking that, now?”

“Everybody.”

“I don’t want to get married.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I get married?”

“Ma says that if you got married, you won’t go to bad women.”

“Why would your Ma say such a thing to you?” he was perplexed. Her mother was the kind who believed in keeping the minds of their daughter ‘pure’. She wouldn’t be discussing that with her.

“Not to me. She was telling this to Promila Kaki.”

“Stop overhearing elders, and troubling yourself. Okay?”

“Are they wrong, then?”

He had sighed, “When you grow up, you can decide for yourself, Piyali. What can I say? But if you must decide now, you should probably listen to them.”

“Why do you always talk like that? You don’t like my coming to you?” she had been irritated.

“That’s not the case, Piyali. You know that very well,” he had said in conciliatory tone. And he was honest. She was the only creature in the world that made him feel good about things. In everything and everyone else, he saw either treachery, or cowardice.

As she grew up, she stopped asking those questions about his “bad” habits. Probably she had started understanding better. Her mother was more worried about her keeping his company. She was growing up into a beautiful woman. Her reputation was more at stake than it would have been in childhood. But she continued to defy her mother’s wishes of avoiding him and kept coming to him.

Grown up she had! He couldn’t ignore that. And it looked like that if she did ask a question now, it would be for herself. And increasingly answering them would be difficult; so would be ignoring them.

“I am also your muse. Why not me?” Her bold question rang in his head. He picked up his diary and started scribbling. That was one thing he did in this room, which even she didn’t know about. Writing his diary.

To be continued

The Lost Dream (Part 7)

Posted 11 CommentsPosted in Chandrika-Bhumimitra, English, Original

“And where did you learn to be doctor?” he asked as she put a soothing paste on his injuries in the camp at night. Their progress in the battle over last two days had been great. The next morning was going to be decisive and they were sure of winning. She wore a soldier’s uniform and hovered around him like a bodyguard the entire day. More than once she had noticed a distant arrow coming his way and had countered it saving him from some major potential injuries. But she had one strict order from him, which she wouldn’t violate. She was to do everything from a chariot and it was a well protected chariot. “Save me when you can, but don’t put yourself in harm’s way. Not even once. I’d be very angry if that happened,” he had said. She hadn’t argued. Apart from everything else, it was a question of his reputation. If something happened to her in the battlefield, he’d have to answer the society all his life.

“Partly from overhearing our Raj-vaidya’s lessons to his son in Chandranagar palace. And partly from my friends in jungle,” she replied.

“So, when you weren’t roaming in the jungles, you went around overhearing people? Your father in the court, Raj-vaidya while teaching his son. What else?” he gave her an amused smile.

“Don’t make fun of me. Else I will leave you to the care of bitter medicines from our Raj-vaidya,” she pouted. She made to get away from him. But he held her hands and did not let her move.

“Chandrika. These medicines are not what are curing me really. It’s you, your presence.  With them I have tasted the elixir of life. Don’t take it away from me.” He sounded like a young, inexperienced man in first love, spouting cheesy lines. He was not that man, but it was his first love.

He may or may not be experienced in love, but she definitely wasn’t. It was enough to melt her heart. She stayed back and let him draw her closer to himself. He kissed her; she was giving in, when she remembered something and stepped back. “I am sorry, Priya. Not today.”

“Why not?” his voice was hoarse.

“According to the calculations, tonight, in fact for next five nights… it can lead to pregnancy.”

“And how on earth do you know that?”

“Overheard… Raj-vaidya,” she replied sheepishly.

“It can be calculated?”

“Yes. That’s how they tell you the shubha muhurta… Especially for niyoga… Or when one faces difficulty in conceiving.”

Bhumimitra guffawed, “I have to learn your overhearing skills, Queen Ma’am. You are a kshatriya, a Brahmin, a vaidya and God knows what else rolled into one. And all thanks to overhearing!”

She blushed and did not say anything.

“But don’t you want to get pregnant?” he asked somberly after a pause. You could never be sure with her. She might have a difficult-to-argue-against logic for that too.

“I do,” she assured him hastily, “But not until the battle is over. Not in this environment of violence.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded as usual, then added after a pause, “Devi. There is one thing I promise you today. No. Two things.”

“What are those?” she asked looking puzzled. Why promises all of the sudden?

“While it is too late to say that I will marry no one other than you. Because I already have. But I promise that I will not marry again in future….”

“Hold on, Sir. Think before promising such a thing. There might be political reasons.”

“I have thought it through, Devi. And I have realized that where there is a will, there is a way.”

Chandrika looked stunned. Did he really promise her that?

“Don’t look so incredulous Devi Chandrika. If Shri Rama Chandra could do it…”

“Please. Don’t compare yourself to him.”

“I won’t dare. He was Maryada Purushottam…”

“He didn’t trust his wife, even after knowing her for years. You trusted me from the beginning. I won’t want some Shri Rama Chandra as a husband. Comparing you to him is an injustice.”

It was Bhumimitra’s turn to look stunned. Then he smiled and shook his head. She won’t stop surprising him.

“I’m sorry,” she said timidly as she felt that she might have said too much, “I know he is supposed to be the epitome of manhood or whatever. I just think differently, you know…”

“Yes. You think differently and charmingly.”

“And God is kind to me. I have not been punished for it.”

“Why should you be?”

“Very early on in my life, Sir, as I roamed around in those jungles and dreamt of a life that was different from those around me, I had known that my dreams would never become reality. Because I wasn’t willing to rebel. I always felt that people apart from me would get affected. When I wasn’t willing to risk breaking the mold, how could I expect anyone else to do it for me? So, I lived with my dreams. And then one day, I learned that I was going to get married. I felt that I had lost my dreams as well. But you not only restored that dream for me, you broke all the molds to make them a reality. I might be irreverent Sir, but I am not selfish and ungrateful. You have my loyalty for life. You don’t need to do anything, make any promises to me.”

“What if I did something that broke your dream again?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“I’d know that there must a good reason for you to do that.”

“I don’t need to, but I still have another promise to make to you.”

“I am all ears.”

He held her hands before saying it, “Your son will be the crown prince of my kingdom.”

If the earlier promise had stunned her, this one shocked her. “How Sir? The eldest is supposed to…”

“As the king I am the right to select the crown prince based on merit. Pandu was declared the king even though he was not the eldest.” She had already debunked Ramayana. He waited and wondered if Mahabharata will meet the safe fate at her hands.

But her questions were in a different direction, “My son isn’t even born yet. How do you know if he would have the merit?”

“If you bring him up, he will have it.”

“Queens don’t get to bring up their children. There are nurses and maids…”

“You can. And you will. You are the queen. Nobody can question what a queen decides to do in the antahpur. And decisiveness is not something you lack.”

She grew emotional. She leaned towards him and rested her head on his chest. He put his arms around her gently.

“You have always been indulgent. Can I extract a third promise out of you tonight?”

“What do you want?”

“You won’t marry my daughters off without their consent.”

He smiled as if expecting it. “I promise!”

With the first attack of the day, the enemy troops camped at Raigarh were crushed for good. Then small groups were sent to the other nearby cities and kingdoms after extracting information from the prisoners of enemy camps. By afternoon, the news of victory came from everywhere the enemy was stationed.

“Where are you going?” Chandrika saw Bhumimitra changing and getting ready to go out.

“There are some prisoners that need my attention,” he replied. His tone was bitter. She realized he was talking about the two queens trapped in the now abandoned enemy camps.

“What punishment are you going to give to them?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“What punishment do you think they deserve?”

“Not death. Not homelessness.”

“Do you know who I am talking about?” he sounded annoyed.

“Queens Devamati and Shripriya.”

“Don’t call them queens. It’s an insult. And since when did you start condoning their conduct?”

“I am not condoning it. I just don’t condone violence either. If enemy tries to capture your home, it is unavoidable. But otherwise… I agree that they betrayed you. They were weak. You don’t need to accept them back. But they were also prisoners of the circumstances. In presence of Queen Padmaja, they could not accept their weakness and leave the palace. Should one be killed for being weak? Many weak men are allowed to live just fine. Why not women?”

“You are an exasperating woman, Chandrika.” The king looked perplexed. Why did she always have the right arguments ready?

“I… I am sorry. I didn’t mean to annoy you. It is your decision, Sir.”

“Will you come with me?” he asked.

“I shouldn’t… Having you to myself might be an impossible dream come true. But I had never wished such fate on any of the queens. Whether it was Maharani Padmaja, or the other two. My presence would look like I am taunting them. But if you want me to…”

“No. That’s fine. Stay here. I will deal with it. And after I come back, we will enter the city. There would be great fanfare, of course. You might want to have someone fetch your dresses and jewelry from the palace.”

“Yes Sir,” she would have liked to enter in a soldier’s uniform, but she decided not to argue. He was already annoyed.

The two queens fell on king’s feet when he went to them and begged to be forgiven. He spared their lives, but they were not to enter the city or the palace again. They would be given a place to stay far from the city. Until that was arranged they were to stay back in the camp.

Chandrika entered the city with Bhumimitra as the Maharani of Raigarh. The stories of her exploits, and how she was with the king at every step had already spread around. The cheers from the subjects refused to die.

After the celebrations, he asked Chandrika about their friends in jungle. “We should do something for them Devi Chandrika. And I need your guidance on what to do?”

“For most part, those people like to be left alone by the city dwellers,” she smiled, “But I will arrange for some suitable gift and go to them myself.”

“I will accompany you. Anything else?”

“Some of the youngsters, Sir, who helped us as messengers…”

“Yes?”

“They are fascinated with the idea of city life. Would you be willing to offer them some work?”

“Why not? They have already proved that they can be a useful part of the army. As messengers, and if they want to be trained, even as soldiers.”

“I will convey it to them.”

The next day, they performed the last rites of Queen Padmaja. The king looked sad. Theirs was the longest association. He was very affectionate towards her. “She wasn’t being forced,” he wondered aloud, “Why did she do that?”

“I didn’t understand it either. But feeling the way I do for you now,” replied Chandrika, “I won’t be surprised if I also embraced death in case something happened to you. But I would like to do it differently. In the battlefield beside you. Not without fighting back.”

That put a smile on his lips. “Can I extract a promise from you?”

“Anything, Sir.”

“If something does happen to me, and we are not in the battlefield for you to die while fighting, you won’t do this. You will live on.”

She thought for a moment; then nodded. “I promise!”

– The End –

The Lost Dream (Part 6)

Posted Leave a commentPosted in Chandrika-Bhumimitra, English, Original

The messenger network was soon in place. The youngsters of the jungle were finding the job of finding out the happenings of the city and carrying the messages around very exciting. During one of these trips, Virat met with an accident. He fell down from his horse and hit a tree trunk right in his head fatally. He died on the spot. That left the king and queen without any trusted ally. But their jungle-force served them well. They did not know the identity of their citizen friends yet. But given the kind of messages they carried they had started suspecting them to not be ordinary citizens. However, they had developed too much respect for Chandrika to refuse to help them.

One day their messenger returned from the city and he looked excited. Chandrika found him outside the hut and asked him what the news was. She paled on hearing it. She asked him to go back as she would break the news herself to her husband.

When she walked inside, she saw the king pondering over a map drawn on the mud floor. This was his sole occupation these days was – planning their attack once the foreigners had relaxed their guards and his allies had the time to replenish their supplies. He had strategically left people behind in the capital, who would pretend to side with the enemy, but would secretly work with him. Others would attack from outside, trapping them in a city alien and uncooperative with them. He had wanted the queens and small children to leave the palace so that foreigners did not have access to anyone using whom they could blackmail him. The queens had other plans though. So, he was now trying to attack before the queens were harmed or forced to kill themselves through the ritual of ‘sati’.

“His Highness!”

He looked up at her quizzically. Why was her voice trembling?

“What happened?”

“There is some news from the palace.”

“From the palace! What is it?” he got up with a start.

“Eldest queen, Maharani Padmaja…”

“What happened to her? The enemy is not already in the palace, is it?”

“No. They are on the city boundaries. But apparently, the confidence in the palace was really shaken. They sent messages to the queens to surrender themselves beforehand and they will be treated well. The message said that if the surrender did not come right then, after the fall, the repercussions would be dire. Devi Padmaja decided to perform ‘sati’ ritual.”

“She did?” The king looked shaken.

“Yes Sir,” Chandirka herself was pained. Whatever be her thoughts on kings having multiple wives, queen Padmaja, was a gentle lady. She gracefully discharged her duties as the eldest queen and she had always been kind towards Chandrika whenever they saw each other.

“What about queens…” Bhumimitra made to ask about the other two queens.

“Sir…” she interrupted not wanting him to take their names. He wouldn’t want to, after he came to know what they did.

“What is it?”

“Please embrace yourself to hear the worst, Sir. And be kind to them and to yourself. They weren’t the strongest women you could have.”

“Don’t make me anxious Devi. Tell me what has happened.”

“They surrendered. They travelled to the outskirts of the city and surrendered themselves.”

Bhumimitra got the shock of his life. “Why! Why would they do that?” he cried out, “I wasn’t asking them for ‘sati’. I had made arrangements for their safe passage. Why would they not take that respectable route and do this…”

“Please hold yourself together, Sir. It won’t do for you to break down.”

“If only they had waited a little. We are ready to attack in two days. There are enough arrangements inside the city to hold them off until then…”

“If they had waited Sir, you would never have known how unreliable and weak they were.” Chandrika had no sympathy for them. “And hypocrites. Once the eldest queen refused to leave the palace, they did not have the courage to face their own limitations. They also repeated her decision. Obviously they didn’t have the courage to follow through on the much tougher decision of the Maharani. Hence the surrender. I mourn Maharani Padmaja Sir. For the other two – excuse my curtness – but ‘good riddance’.”

He sighed. “You are right, Devi. And yet – I can’t be so rational about it. It has hurt me.”

“Feeling hurt is human, His Highness. But not getting affected by your personal hurt and doing your duty towards your people is what kings are supposed to do. You would make your planned attack, won’t you?”

“Yes. I will.”

The king made his preparation at the night itself. He would leave for the city in the morning. All his allies would camp at a predetermined place few miles away from the enemy camps and attack the unsuspecting enemy. For crossing the jungle and reaching there, he would don one of the soldier’s uniform he had been carrying. His ammunitions, horses and other warfare tools were being guarded by other allies and he would find them at their camp.

Chandrika came to him with a mud-plate. She had arranged for tilak with which she would put on him in the morning. Their mood was somber.

“You will regain your kingdom and your palace, Sir. I am sure of that,” she said.

“Yes. I think so too,” he smiled sadly.

“Aren’t you happy about it?”

“Me? I am, I think. But you aren’t, right?”

“Why do you say so?”

“You would be happier being left behind in these jungles, instead of coming with me, won’t you?”

She stayed silent for a few moments. He looked at her anxiously, searching for answers to some questions. Then she spoke slowly, “Not any longer. Not without you, Swami!”

His heart leapt with joy. For the first time she had addressed him not as a king, but as her husband. But that would not satisfy him. Swami – used to address husband, but it meant a master, which the husband was supposed to be. But he wasn’t looking to be her master.

Swami?” he questioned.

She blushed hard. “Priya!” she managed to say. The beloved! “If you choose to accept my feelings.”

“Choose to?” he smiled, his smile reaching all the way up to his softened eyes, “I had no chance to choose, Devi. I had fallen in love the moment I had turned to look at the woman who had stopped me from eating a poisonous fruit in the jungles of Chandranagar. It has taken us a lot of time, and a great deal of trouble, to reach here. Let me hold you tonight and tell you just how bittersweet this wait has been and how I intend to make up for the lost time.”

“The night is yours Sir, and so am I. Have always been.”

“My lust has always been satisfied. By my wives, by the professional women, but the women surrendering in a war… Tonight I ask you for ratidaan. Not out of a sense of duty or obligation, or for any selfish expectations, or out of any fear or terror. I ask for it out of love. That is the only reason for which I ask, and that is the only reason I will accept it for.”

“That is the only reason, I will give it for. Rest assured.”

He held out his hand and drew her in his embrace. The night of union had finally arrived for them!

“You are coming as well?” he asked uncertainly in the morning.

“Yes.”

“It’s not like I can order you to stay back?”

“I want to come with you.” That was a change! She sounded almost meek. She didn’t say she’d disobey him. She just expressed her wish and hoped that he would indulge her. But then, that had always been the case. She had never disobeyed him. He had always felt like indulging on his own. So, nothing had changed really, he thought to himself. Except that blush that crept up on her cheeks every so often. And the voice that was now soft, instead of petulant and bitter. He’d still indulge her. And he’d not regret it. Nothing of importance had changed.

But he felt like teasing her a little. “I’d gain the reputation of being overly smitten by my wife at this rate. Who has ever heard of taking a woman along to the hiding place in a jungle; and then to a battlefield?”

“Is that true?” she colored. She was surprised by her own reaction. If he had said something like this earlier, she’d have responded with rational reasoning. Accepting that this is possible and still making a case for her choice. But right now… she just colored. Gosh! One night and everything had changed. She was suddenly this young woman madly in love. Everything other than what he felt or said faded in the background.

Seeing her reaction, he realized that she had taken it seriously. “It’s true. But only until they see you in action!” he decided to relieve her.

And she was relieved. She found her old self back. “Yes,” she said, “And I am going there as your soldier, Sir. Not as your wife. It will be my duty to protect you. Not the other way round.”

He grinned at her. She lived in some other world, didn’t she?

“Let’s go,” he said affectionately and they left for their journey.

To be continued

The Lost Dream (Part 5)

Posted 3 CommentsPosted in Chandrika-Bhumimitra, English, Original

The problem with Chandranagar’s affairs indeed went away after their king was discreetly informed of the affair. Being principled and headstrong as Chandrika’s father was, he didn’t spare even his sons and nephews and had them arrested for conspiracy against the king.

Chandrika found herself discussing and counseling Bhumimitra more and more on political and strategic affairs. She didn’t realize, but her jungle sojourns became less frequent. Mrinalini felt happy about it, and she made sure that nobody pointed out the change to her mistress.

One of the influences Chandrika had on Bhumimitra was that he was now not interested in conquering new lands for the heck of it. He focused on maintaining peace and ensuring economic progress of his subjects. One year went by in this fashion, after which he was forced into the battle-field once again. Taking a cue from the policies of the strongest kingdom Raigarh, most of the neighboring states were also happy to let the peace reign. The bad news came not from them, but from the attack of a foreign army. Charmed by the story of India being a “Golden Bird”, foreigners had never ceased to attack India from time to time. Most of them had no intention of staying here and managing the land as an extension of their kingdoms. They came to plunder and please themselves. They must be stopped! It was an alliance of Raigarh, Chandranagar and other neighboring states that set out to limit the progress of one such foreign army.

Chandrika, other queens, the entire staff of the palace and civilians of Raigarh waited as the battle went on, several hundred miles to the west of the kingdom. It had been five months. The news from the frontier was mixed. Something in the messages told Chandrika that the reality was worse than what they directly conveyed. The king probably didn’t want people back home to panic.

And her fears came true. One night, the king came to the palace with only few of his trusted bodyguards and soldiers and summoned all the queens. He informed them as briefly as possible that the foreigners had much more sophisticated weapons. They also had a lot of money they had plundered on their way to India and that was their most lethal weapon. They had been able to turn many soldiers and entire platoons against their masters with the lure of money, power and position.  Strategic retreat was the only option left for Bhumimitra and some other kings. They will retreat into the jungle and reorganize after laying low for a while. Meanwhile, the city was fortified and arrangements for the safety of the subjects were made. The soldiers in the city will be able to guard it even if the enemy came there.

But to account for unexpected calamities, the queens and young children in the royal household were to take refuse in the eldest queen’s parental home. Their kingdom was quite far and safe from the enemy. Messages had already been exchanged with them to make arrangements.

“Sir!” The eldest queen interrupted him, “I will send the children and others to my parents’ home. But as the head of the household, I can’t abandon my house.”

“It is but a strategic retreat Queen!” Bhumimitra tried to explain to her, “There can be nothing wrong in it.”

“It is fine for men to strategize, Sir. I will stay here and if enemy came, I’d offer myself as Sati. That is what becomes Kshatranis.”

“But…” the king looked helpless.

“Don’t fret over it, Sir. I will die an honorable death.”

“I don’t want to order you against doing something your heart doesn’t permit. But I would not hold it against you, rather welcome it, if you change your mind. You have until brahm muhurta to decide.” He, then, turned to his second and third queen, “Her parents are happy to host all of us. Irrespective of the eldest queen’s decision, you should make arrangements for your departure. Please pack light. It isn’t a pleasure trip, as you already know.”

But after the example set by the eldest queen, even though the other two wanted safety, they could not accept it. They also announced that they will send the children, but stay back themselves. King felt exasperated, but could not do anything. He realized that Chandrika was silent throughout. If his other wives were difficult to manage at this hour, he didn’t even want to start imagining what Chandrika would want. He dismissed the queens without saying anything specifically to her. But she stayed back.

“You also have the option of going to Chandranagar. It is difficult to reach for foreigners.”

“I will go with you.”

“What?”

“I will go with you.”

“Devi Chandrika. I am going to be a refugee. In the jungles. This is no time for you to accompany me.”

“And nobody knows jungles better than me. Not you, not your bodyguards, ministers and soldiers, not the foreigners. I can be of help.”

“I can’t allow this. It is too risky.”

“I won’t take a ‘No’. You have always indulged my unconventional desires. Don’t step back this time. For once, I could be really useful to you and in doing to so my people, my country. Please His Highness.”

He looked at her for a few moments and then sighed. “Fine. Don a commoners dress and pack all such dresses you have. And also the soldier’s uniforms. We may have to fight.”

“Thank you, Sir,” her eyes were moist. “And can we send Mrinalini and my other friends from my paternal home to Chandranagar for their safety?”

“Yes.”

Bhumimitra was the leader of the army that had been formed by several Indian kingdoms coming together. His security was most important. He was to find himself a secure place in the jungle and stay there with a messenger. He knew the locations of others and would communicate with them through the messenger about the strategy and the time to fight back.

After giving into Chandrika’s wishes, he was anxious. It was an unheard of decision. If things went wrong and something happened to her, he will never be able to forgive or trust himself. And yet – deep down – he was happy. Who could have thought that he would have company, that of his wife, in such dire days?

They proceeded towards the jungle along with a messenger named Virat, who was also a trained soldier. Chandrika guided them to the interiors of the jungle, which any city-dweller would find impossible to navigate.

She made friends with the jungle dwellers. She knew their language, which was different not only from Sanskrit, but also from the commoner’s language in the city. She was also well-versed with their customs and soon their apprehension of the city dwellers was gone. They made them huts like their own and also helped them arrange for food from jungle and clothes made of tree leaves. Bhumimitra didn’t understand the language, so he had to get the details from her later.

“What do they know about us?”

“That we are the citizens of Raigarh and have fled to avoid the foreigner enemies at the suggestion of our king.”

“Hmm… They believed you?”

“I hope so. But they were extremely amused.”

“Amused? About what?”

She bit her lips. She shouldn’t tell him about that. “The idea of city dwellers fleeing to jungle,” she lied. They had made a rather sarcastic comment about how come the great “Arya” leaders of “Aryavarta” were unable to protect their people from foreigners.

“I see.”

“Don’t take anything they say to heart, Your Majesty,” she added somberly on realizing that even that statement would have hurt his pride, “They are simple people. They don’t think kindly of us. But that is nothing personal against us.”

Bhumimitra smiled at that.

“You are worried about something.”

“I have a lot to do, Devi. Firstly I have to set channels to get the news from the city. Then start communication with other kings and armies.”

“Sleep tonight, Sir. You are exhausted. A tired mind and body do not help in making good decisions. Tomorrow morning, let us start afresh.”

The king looked around. Amidst the crisis, he had food, shelter, a home, a caring wife… Life was being good to him. He would emerge the winner. Especially with this extraordinary woman by his side. He lied down on the straw bed she had prepared, and closed his eyes. He felt her hands massaging his forehead, shoulder and legs one by one. He had a sound sleep that night, the kind he hadn’t had even in the most peaceful days in his palace.

When he woke up the next morning, the other straw bed was unoccupied. He went out and saw her practicing various sword movements by herself. He took out his own sword and stepped before her. She did not stop to greet him; instead they started a mock fight immediately. Even after half an hour or so, neither of them was close to getting defeated. So, they stopped without conclusion.

“You are becoming too good, Devi Chandrika.”

“You are the teacher, Sir.”

“I am now really scared. I am at your mercy in the middle of this jungle I can’t navigate, amongst the people I can’t communicate with, without you. Now even with sword you are an equal.”

“You are safe then, Sir,” she laughed. For the first time since their marriage, he felt that her laughter was not sarcastic, or bitter. It was an unaffected laughter, purely of amusement and pleasure. “If I have power, I don’t believe in wielding it. Did you sleep well?”

“Very well. But you got up pretty early.”

“I was already well-rested. I am not the one who has been in the battlefield for five months.”

“But you would very much have liked to be,” he chuckled.

“Not really. What I would really like is to be here, in the pure surroundings of the jungle. Picking up fruits, or hunting for my food, tree leaves for my clothes and these simple huts for my dwelling.”

“Too bad you were born a princess.”

“Too bad, indeed! So, I will try to be a good wife in this birth. Then in my next birth, the almighty might grant me my wishes and I will be born as a vankanya,” she replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“And how do you propose to do that?” the king was enjoying this banter too.

“Well. At first by helping you with messengers for the city.”

“How so?” he was all ears now.

“Our friends in jungle are very cooperative and helpful. We don’t need to send Virat all the time. Alone, he might not even be adequate.”

“They will help us?”

“They have promised.”

“But can they get the news from the city? They don’t even speak the language.”

“Some of their youngsters do. They go to the city to barter for things once in a while.”

“That is news to me.”

“A good news, I hope.”

“Certainly. Shall we get started directly then? Much might already have changed since we left.”

“I will call them.”

“Devi.”

“Yes Sir?”

“How will we compensate them?”

She smiled. “When we can, we will. They don’t expect to be compensated. That is not how these people work.”

To be continued

The Lost Dream (Part 4)

Posted 6 CommentsPosted in Chandrika-Bhumimitra, English, Original

“Tell His Highness,” she told the messenger, “That I will not take more than ten minutes. Mrinalini. You have to help me with my hair. It is in no condition for me to step out of my room.”

“Yes, Queen Ma’am,” Mrinalini gathered herself together on hearing her mistress’ order and got up to help her.

Chandrika entered Bhumimitra’s chamber with trepidation in her heart, but composure in her countenance. After exchanging their greetings, she asked in a low voice, “I hope all is well with Your Majesty.”

“Oh yes! I am sorry Devi Chandrika. Did I disturb your afternoon nap?”

“No. No Sir. I am not used to taking afternoon naps. If I can be of any service…”

“I was getting bored. So, I sought your company. If it is an inconvenience…”

“No,” her heart skipped a beat on hearing him, “Not at all. It’s an honour.”

“Please do sit down.”

“I hope there are no distressing news from any neighboring states,” she sat down and asked by the way of making small talk.

“No. There isn’t. Feels almost unreal. It has never been so peaceful for so many months at stretch in last couple of decades.”

“That’s why you are bored,” she joked and then got worried. Would he be offended?

But to her relief, he laughed, “Well. I am a soldier at heart, Devi. What do you expect?”

“Hmm…”

“You don’t approve of wars?”

“We’d be better off as a race, and we’d progress much more if there were fewer wars.”

“But there are always evil forces. Good has to win the wars. Evil won’t let us progress.”

“You are right at some very broad level. But in most wars around us, one can never be sure which is the good side, and which is the bad one.”

“One can’t be?”

“If Raigarh and Chandranagar had fought, which side would one consider good? One’s own side? Isn’t that always the definition? But hardly ever rational.”

King smiled. It was an irrefutable logic. “It looks like women have an advantage of broader perspective. You belong to at least two different places.”

“Possibly. And some would argue that world would be a different place if women were the decision-makers.”

“But you can’t stop wars by yourself. We are a greedy race. Even if you don’t want to fight, others will attack your home and you will be forced to.”

“I’m not saying that you have any option, Sir. You have your duties as a king. My thoughts are often ramblings of someone used to inaction.”

“You do yourself and your thoughts a gross injustice. They are always extremely refined and wise.”

“I will accept that complement as gracefully as I can. And yet…”

“And yet?”

“Nothing, Sir. Would you like to have some sherbet or a paan?”

“I want to know what you were saying.”

“It is nothing great, Sir. The ingredients for paan that I see in this paandaan are exquisite. I believe you ordered each of them from the places where they grow them the best.”

“Don’t force me to order you, Devi Chandrika.” For some reason, Bhumimitra just couldn’t let go.

She sighed, “All right. I will speak. But you will have to pardon me in advance. For my intention is not to insult anyone. My thoughts are wayward at times.”

“I have pardoned every act of yours in advance, Devi. One can hardly use conventional yardsticks with you.”

“Thank you, Sir. I often think that princesses and queens are the most useless amongst humans. Kings and princes run the country, maintain peace, protect their subjects. Common man works hard to create things the society needs to survive and progress. Common woman also has her role to play in her society. Even if her status is inferior to her man, she is needed for running the society. She cooks for her family, takes care of their health, keeps the house clean and livable. She serves her husband, she brings up her children. She is responsible for the welfare of her husband and children. But queens and princesses? What are we useful for? For adorning jewelry, for petty fights in antahpur, for symbolically giving alms from public funds? For being exchanged as a seal of political contracts, for being held up like an object – the trophy of honor? Our status as even wives and daughters is at best symbolic. Other people run our households. We just sit there, all adorned and doing nothing. And if I can be utterly honest, unlike a common woman, we aren’t needed even for satisfying the carnal desires of our husbands. They have professional women at their beck and call to do that. There isn’t another creature in the world, not even the insects swarming in mud, which is as useless as us.”

King Bhumimitra was speechless for a while. This was one extra-ordinary woman for sure. She had the ability to turn someone’s world upside-down just with her words. If she got a chance to act… She would probably turn not just his, but the whole real world upside-down. There was that spark, that intelligence, that internal strength, which was beyond comprehension by most mortals. And yet… there was something extremely pitiful about what she had said. He finally found a word for what it was…

“Devi. Such self-loathing! That’s not right,” he commented gently.

She gave an embarrassed chuckle, “I am sorry, Sir. I have scandalized you with my bitter outpourings. Don’t think too much about them. I have overwhelmed Mrinalini all my life with this nonsense. Poor woman. She finally stopped paying attention. You were getting bored. Let’s find something to talk about that interests you.”

“Devi. Unfortunately, it is time for me to return to the court. But can I have the pleasure of your company tomorrow afternoon as well?”

She was surprised that he wanted to talk more to her. “As usual. It will be an honour.”

“Shall I need to send a messenger?”

“No Sir. I will be here. Shall I see you in the evening for practice?”

“Yes.”

She already knew that it wasn’t her turn that night. So, she did not ask about that.

The king appeared lost in his thoughts when Chandrika entered his chamber next afternoon. He was surprised on seeing her there; then remembered his invitation and smiled at her.

“Am I disturbing you, Sir? Would you rather rest alone?” she asked courteously.

“No Devi. Please sit down,” he rubbed his forehead as he sat up straight and then leaned against the headboard of his bed.

“Do you have a head ache?”

“A slight one.”

“Let me give you a head-massage.”

“No!” he was startled. Why would a queen do that? “You don’t need to do that Devi Chandrika. There are servants….” Then his voice drowned as he remembered her lamenting the uselessness of queens and princesses the previous day. “I’m sorry,” he said in a gentle voice, “That was insensitive of me. I only stopped you because it might be considered beneath you. But I also know that the conventional yardstick doesn’t apply to you. If you do this for me… it would be the… most special thing anyone would have ever done to me.”

“Then, let me do it,” her voice quivered with emotions.

He nodded and lied down. She shifted to sit near the headboard so that she could massage his forehead. Her hands were warm and soft. The king was no alien to female proximity and touch. But her touch still affected him. As he recalled her quivering voice, a thought crossed his head. Was it possible that he was winning the heart of this utterly unconventional, incomprehensible woman? Even if not already, could he do it in future? Play the game of love? Something he had read about, but never got a chance to play. All his marriages had been political alliances. And while he was happy enough in them, he never had an experience of winning a worthy woman’s love!

Chandrika looked thoughtful with her naked sword at king’s throat, his own having been thrown away by her in an earlier move.

“I haven’t improved that much Your Majesty. What is the matter? You were distracted,” she asked after withdrawing.

“Please sit down, Devi. There is something I want to tell you.”

It sounded ominous. But Chandrika followed the king to the chairs placed near the practice area and sat down.

“What is it?”

“In the afternoon, what I was worried about was the news from Chandranagar. It is not good.”

“How so?”

“Our spies have reported that they are planning to break our peace treaty and try to capture the villages along the border.”

“That doesn’t sound right…”

“I’m sorry. But if you think neutrally, you’d see that it is very much possible. Even if it is from your own folks.”

“Sir. I know my father. He is a stubborn, idealist. He doesn’t promise things easily. You know how much you had to wait for the peace and alliance treaty. But once he makes a promise, he will keep it, even foolishly sometimes, irrespective of repercussions.”

“You are saying that reports are wrong?” his brows furrowed.

“No. I am trying to think what the reports could mean. The people I am not sure about are my brothers and cousins. Most of them are more unscrupulous and they don’t like to be ruled by my father’s iron hand. In all likelihood, whatever is happening is happening without my father’s knowledge.”

“Either way, we will have to protect ourselves and then react.”

“You could just have my father informed. He would himself quell what he’d see a rebellion against him. You won’t have to put your men at risk.”

“That is a very dubious suggestion you make, Queen Chandrika,” he smiled and shook his head. He had addressed her as “Queen” for the first time. Chandrika thought that he was trying to remind her of her duty towards Raigarh over Chandranagar.

“Sir. Given the vows I have taken, my loyalty lies with you first, and with my father later. Between my father and brothers, my loyalty lies with the former. There isn’t much conflict of interest here, thankfully.”

“Hmm…” Bhumimitra looked thoughtful.

“And anyway. If you decide to inform my father, you shouldn’t do it officially.”

“Why not?”

She chuckled, “He’d take the presence of your spies in his kingdom an effrontery to his honor. That you didn’t trust him.”

“That’s naïve!”

“So was the thought that he could hold his own against Raigarh. But that’s my father for you!”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“You let the ‘rumour’ reach him about the plans from his sons and subordinates. Meanwhile you do whatever preparation you have to do. If he doesn’t take action, you can take your own.”

Bhumimitra laughed pleasantly, “If your father had employed you in his court, instead of letting your run around in jungles, I’d have to fear Chandranagar. Good day, Devi. I will see you at night.”

To be continued

The Lost Dream (Part 3)

Posted 7 CommentsPosted in Chandrika-Bhumimitra, English, Original

“I’m not sure I understand you, Sir.”

“Devi Chandrika. How am I to keep you happy? You are difficult woman to keep happy. But I have my vows to stand by. I have been thinking about it since the moment I saw you walking towards the mandap.”

The silence was excruciating for her. What was he on to? What should she say?

He spoke after a pause, “I know that this wedding has been against your wishes…”

“His Highness! I apologize for interrupting you. But the circumstances are nothing new for women in my position. I respect the holy bond of matrimony.”

“I don’t doubt that, Devi.”

“I can see that there is something on your mind, Sir. You can ask whatever you want to.”

“That jungle…. It was quite far from the palace. How did you used to go?”

“On horseback,” she replied.

“With whom?”

She took a deep breath to swallow what she thought was an implied insult. She wasn’t escorted by a man. She didn’t go to meet a secret lover. “With one of my friends, Sir.”

“It would be the same young woman who was with you here when I came?”

“My friends are under my protection, Sir. I know you are gracious enough to not ask me to betray them. Whatever complaints you have are against me. Whatever punishments you have to give, it should be meted out to me. I would only request that it be done in a way that the word doesn’t reach my parents. Else the hard-earned peace would be violated forever for the sake of royal egos.”

“You are acting guilty? I am surprised. I thought you were more spirited than that.”

“Before my God, and before my conscience, I am not guilty, Sir. I am not acting guilty. If I were a common woman, I would have fought for my choices. But in my position, how my conduct is perceived has implications beyond my personal life. I can’t just stop caring. I don’t want to fight with you, Your Majesty. I don’t want to invite your wrath. If you can trust my words, I was not accompanied by a man; I didn’t go to meet a secret lover. None of that. But if I can’t convince you, and you must act to save your honor, your action, your wrath must be directed solely towards me. It would be a great disservice to the subjects of Chandranagar and Raigarh, if your grudges against me should result in a war.”

Bhumimitra smiled, “Rest assured, Devi Chandrika. I don’t have any grudges against you. It is difficult to not trust someone as straightforward as you. That is a rare quality in women – the princesses and queens especially. If that is what has kept you restless and standing all this while, would you please relax and sit down?”

Even with all her forced grace and composure, Chandrika could not help letting out a sigh. She sat down on the bed without waiting for her husband to do that. But he followed the suit. He didn’t sit close to her though, almost at the other edge.

“I know that you respect the holy bond of matrimony,” the king spoke again after they were seated, “But I also know that your self-respect is hurt with the situation it leaves you in. If I had known earlier, I’d have made a different peace offer. I could have asked your hand for someone else in the court, who would have fulfilled the criteria that is most important to you…”

“My father is too proud to have accepted that. He took three weeks even to accept even your hand for me.”

“True,” he nodded in agreement, “Was he against my proposal because he knew about your wishes?”

“Ah!” she smiled bitterly, “I wish! No Sir. He had no such tender reasons. It was his kshatriya blood boiling. He thought he could defeat you in a war and he didn’t have to bow down to you. It took him three weeks of counsel from every eminent person in the court to accept otherwise.”

Bhumimitra was impressed. She was a keen and accurate observer of politics, despite her complaints with it.

“I am a man of world too, Devi. And a kshatriya. It won’t be possible for me to liberate you or to give you another man of your choice.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” she said in a small voice.

“I am only discussing politics with you, which you are fully capable of understanding. Please don’t feel otherwise about it.”

She nodded. Then he continued, “I can’t do anything like that. For the sake of my honour. For the sake of peace, and welfare of my subjects. But what I can promise you is that I won’t impose myself upon you.”

Chandrike shot a surprised glance at him. This statement could be interpreted in several ways. Was it supposed to be relief for her? A punishment? Was he angry? Hurt? Insulted? Or could his words be taken on face value? His expressions were amiable. Chandrika relaxed.

“It is such an extra ordinary thing you said, Sir, that I don’t know how to react to it.”

“Be happy. That’s all I am trying to achieve. I would still come here about one in four nights. We don’t need the world gossiping. And Devi. This kingdom sports a vast jungle as well. If you want to continue your jungle sojourns and explore the fruits, animals and flowers, as the queen of Raigarh, nobody will stop you.”

She went agape at that. Was she dreaming? Her reaction made the king laugh out loud. This had been so beyond anything she expected that she had forgotten all her grooming and grace. There was something incredibly amusing and cute about that.

She realized that soon enough and looked away from him.

“That is very kind of you, His Highness. However, I am prone to taking it seriously. If you jest, you must tell me now, before I make a blunder.”

“I don’t jest, Devi. But what I need to be sure of is your safety. Would you mind taking…”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can ride and you carry the dagger, but…”

“Also the sword and the bow and arrow. I can use them. But I need a soldier’s dress for carrying them. Mrinalini is also trained.”

“Would that be enough?”

“If you’d allow, I can train more women.”

“Fair enough. I am trusting your judgment.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“In the morning, I will show you a way from the back gate of the antahpur to a very fascinating jungle. Right now, I am tired and I must lie down here. Hope you don’t mind.”

She shook her head.

“Great! As a queen you may not know what goes on in the bedrooms of your servants. But they would observe everything in yours as soon as the doors open in the morning. You’d do well to take off your jewelry, undo your hair and sleep in the bed! The sheets should be crumpled in the morning. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Sir.”

She did all he had suggested, while fighting the whirlwinds in her head. What on earth was happening to her? It couldn’t be real, could it?

But it was. It was real. The king kept his word. He showed her the back gate and the way to the jungle. He instructed the security to never obstruct her way. He arranged for commoners’ dresses and soldier’s uniforms for her that she could use when she felt like.

She also started training women in sword-fighting. Bhumimitra walked into the open quadrilateral one day when the training was going on. Chandrika was having a mock fight with one of the women and pretty soon she defeated her. Then she explained to everyone what the technical mistakes were that the woman made.

“Excellent!” exclaimed the king startling the women. They all bowed to the king. Chandrika nodded at them and they stepped out to leave them alone. Then Chandrika also bowed with folded hands to greet the king. He reciprocated her greetings.

“Shall we have a round of practice?”

“We?” her eyes went wide with surprise. Was he going to indulge her to that extent?

“Why? Are you scared?” he teased her.

“No. Just that… I don’t have your kind of practice. Or the stamina.”

“You have the right technique. Who taught you?”

“I pestered my brothers.”

“They taught you well. So? Shall we?”

“On one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You won’t treat me with kid’s gloves. You won’t let me win just to humor me.”

“That’s an admirable condition. I promise, I won’t.”

And the duel started. Despite his promise, he did fight in a relaxed manner in the beginning. But soon realized that Chandrika was quite aggressive.  He still let the fight go on for a while, before going whole-hog and finally ridding her of her weapon. She accepted her defeat with a graceful smile.

“You want more practice?”

“I do.”

“You can join me in the mornings.”

She chuckled. “That can’t be a good news for our kingdom. If you practiced with me, you will soon be over-confident. One needs to practice with equals or superiors to improve.”

“Wisdom speaking as always. Evenings then? For half-an-hour after the court is over.”

“It’d be an honour, Sir,” Chadrika replied sincerely. He was indulging her a lot!

There was no way to avoid rumors. But the rumors were not what she would have feared. That they had not consummated their marriage. They were all about how the fourth queen was king’s favorite. Mrinalini teased her endlessly. But for the first time in her life, she didn’t share much with her friend. What was happening to her was so extra-ordinary that she didn’t know what to make of it. What was she to tell her friend about her husband’s indulgences?

And the rumors gained strength, when one day, the king summoned her in the middle of the day. This was the time when court broke for lunch for a few hours and the king took lunch and rested in his own quarters near the courthouse.

It was such an unusual request for a queen to be summoned there during the daytime that she and all the women with her stared at each other in stunned silence when it was announced. As the queen, the responsibility of acting unfazed again fell on Chandrika.

To be continued

The Lost Dream (Part 2)

Posted 5 CommentsPosted in Chandrika-Bhumimitra, English, Original

“Princess Chandrika. The baraat is here. Won’t you like to take a look at your groom? We can go to the balcony.” Chandrika’s best friend, Mrinalini, came to her.

“I have to see him all my life, Mrinalini. It’s not like I can reject him if I don’t like him.”

“Come on, Princess. You can’t be this skeptical on your wedding day. It’s the beginning of your new life. I’m sure the king will love you more than his other wives. Where will he find such a companion?”

“Oh yes! I will learn to live on scraps. And would learn how to fight for a bigger piece of it. Don’t worry, Mrinalini. I will live. You go ahead and do what you have to do. You don’t have the luxury of being a bride and sitting here doing nothing. You would have work to attend to.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. But princess, I hate to see you this sad. Like it or not, the days of jungle escapades are over. Please embrace your new life.”

Chandrika smiled. She realized that her bitterness was making her friend miserable. “Don’t worry, Mrinalini. I am fine. You go ahead and attend to your work. And once you come with me to my new home, I’m sure we’ll find a brave, nobleman for you too.”

“You jest, princess. I am not going there to find a husband for myself. I am going there so that I can keep you company. Anyway. I am off now.”

King Bhumimitra should have been happy. Finally, the day had come. The wedding that would seal the relationship of his kingdom Raigarh with that of the neighboring kingdom of Chandranagar was to happen today. He had camped near Chandranagar for four weeks. It had taken three weeks for the proud king of Chandranagar to see the point in making peace with the much stronger kingdom of Raigarh. Bhumimitra would have crushed any other kingdom of that size in a one-day battle. But Chandranagar was located strategically. Having it as an ally would be far more useful than having it as a crushed dominion. And what better way of making peaceful alliance and ensuring lifelong loyalty than to bind the two royal families with a relationship of matrimony? It was a tried and tested formula for centuries. Royal weddings were rarely about love and familial aspirations. They were about politics. Bhumimitra himself had been a groom thrice earlier. At other times he had asked for the hands of princesses for other members of his royal family and court, depending on the stature of the kingdom in question.

And yet, there was something that was bothering him this time. He didn’t know what, until his bride was brought to the mandap. He figured that he wasn’t as surprised as he should have been. The woman in the jungle had gotten to him. She had made him restless. And the more he thought about her, especially their last meeting, the more anxious he became. The similarities were uncanny. She was lamenting getting married to a rich, nobleman with three wives. Her marriage had been fixed on the same day when King Chandravarna of Chandranagar had accepted his proposal of peace and had agreed to marry his daughter to him. No wonder he wasn’t as surprised on finding the jungle-woman as his bride as he should have been.

But why was she not surprised? Did she know already… No! He realized that she wasn’t looking up. She hadn’t seen his face. He had been through this motion thrice. He had known that despite the shyness, the young brides could never suppress their curiosity and excitement about their grooms and they would invariably look up at least once. But there was no curious or excited bone in her. She was listless as she walked towards the mandap. People would have passed it off as her shyness, but Bhumimitra knew that she was extremely unhappy. He sighed! He hadn’t often thought about the situation from the point of view of women. It had just seemed like the way the world naturally worked and all parties accepted their roles in it. Until one day a princess challenged the appropriateness of such arrangements and passed on her anxiety to him!

The celebrations for welcoming her to Raigarh were over. Everyone had left her alone. Only Mrianlini was there. She would leave once the king’s arrival was announced. Chandrika thought about the last two tiring days. The pre-wedding rituals, the attempts to make her look even more beautiful than she already was, the night-long wedding ceremony, her crying relatives in the morning, her mother whispering some final words of advice into her ears, her getting on the palki – she should probably call it a royal palki – with her friends, her coming here, subjects of Raigarh welcoming her with showers of flower-petals, the singing and dancing all around, the welcome done by the first queen – the maharani – her rival from now on, the delightful music in the evening that she found tiresome… She remembered everything, except the face of her groom. She hadn’t looked up at him even once.  How long would it take before all this became history and the same subjects welcomed yet another queen? The fifth; then the sixth; and she became one of the thousand faces peeping from the royal windows and balconies? What would she do in the days to come? Please her husband in bed. Hope that she bears him a son. Plot and plan to get him the kingdom or at least a good position in the court. God forbid if she bore a daughter. How helpless would it feel for her to be given away one day just like this. To some king. He would take her away. Not with love. Not because he would need her. But because it would further his political ambitions. Oh God! Would she be able to do all of that? Starting with the antahpur-politics?

“Princess… Actually Queen Ma’am,” Mrinalini addressed her with a smile, “Won’t you…”

“Mrinalini. Please continue calling me Princess. It feels good,” Chandrika interrupted her.

“But it isn’t appropriate.”

“You know I don’t care. If you are scared of others, do whatever is appropriate in their presence. But in private, please let it be the old way. I want to stay in touch with my identity.”

“You have a new and respectable identity now. Why shy away from that?”

“Yeah,” Chandirka laughed sarcastically, “I know. A new identity. Fourth wife of a warring king. How respectable and unique.”

Mrinalini fell silent at that. How could she respond to her mistress’ cynicism? But she cared a lot about her. If only she had the power to give her a piece of mind… To her relief, however, Chandrika restarted the conversation, “Anyway. Don’t bother with my bitterness. You were saying something.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t you like to sit down on the bed? It’s quite late. His highness, the king, would be due anytime.” Chandrika was standing near the window and pacing up and down the room once in a while.

”He won’t come unannounced, Mrinalini. Kings never do. Don’t worry.”

“As you say Ma’am.”

A few minutes later, a deliberate coughing sound disturbed their respective reveries. Mrinalini saw him first. “His highness,” she bowed respectfully and sent a hurried glance Chandrika’s way. Then she rushed out of the room leaving them alone.

Chandrika stood there stupefied for a moment with her eyes downcast. This had happened unexpectedly. She was expecting someone to announce him.  But he had decided to be unconventional. Then she gained her wits back and bowed slightly with folded hands to welcome him. It was unavoidable after that. She had to look at him, at his face. She got a second shock within moments, this time a much bigger one than earlier. She almost stumbled in shock. He was not in a soldier’s uniform, but in a bright gown accompanied by all the rich jewelry. But there was no mistaking that sharp, strong face. The soldier from the jungle. King of Raigarh? Now her husband? What could all this mean for her? But she was a princess. She had been groomed to keep her grace even in the most strenuous circumstances. She managed not to lick her dry lips and collected herself together. “Pardon my unpreparedness His Highness. The honour of your arrival came unannounced.”

“Devi,” came a smiling voice to her, “I am sorry I startled you. But what I thought was right. You hadn’t seen my face through all the rituals of the last two days.”

“It would hardly become a bride to be doing that, Your Majesty. I am sure you are gracious enough to not blame me for that.”

“You must be tired. Why don’t you sit down?”

If she had been sitting on the bed already, it would have been a different matter. But now she was in the presence of the king. And some queens might actually become friendly and familiar with their husbands over time. But that wasn’t the case with them. She had to offer him a seat first.

“After you, Sir.”

“You do realize that I am here not as a king, but as your husband. And you are not my subject, but my wife.”

“And I have been taught since my childhood, Sir, that in royal households, a king is always a king first and anything else later. When it comes to choosing between your family’s and your subjects’ welfare, you would choose your subjects, won’t you?”

“You are too wise and learned to expect otherwise, Devi. But today, I don’t have to choose. I have taken some vows as your husband yesterday and I have been wondering how I would stand by them?”

A chill ran down her spine. Would he refer to her escapades now? Would he claim that she didn’t deserve to be his wife? That he would not stand by her as her husband? If something like that happened, the swords would be drawn. Her family would feel humiliated, they would retaliate and the subjects of Chandranagar would suffer the worst. She could not have that on her conscience. That was the reason she had agreed to this wedding. Without knowing that she was inviting more troubles. Through this internal storm, she maintained her outward calmness.

To be continued

The Lost Dream (Part 1)

Posted 12 CommentsPosted in Chandrika-Bhumimitra, English, Original

“Don’t eat that fruit, traveler,” the sweet, but aristocratic voice surprised the man in a soldier’s uniform, who was about the pluck a fruit from the tree. It sounded out of place in the deserted, jungle area he was passing through. Out-of-place experiences often signified danger and instinctively his hand went to the hilt of his sword. His surprise did not lessen when he turned around to face the source of the voice. Who was she? A princess in the garb of a commoner? He stood transfixed.

“Relax,” the woman smiled when she noticed his hand on the sword, “I stopped you form eating it because it could be poisonous. If you are not a native, you may not know how to differentiate the domesticated variety from the poisonous, wild ones.”

“Who are you?” the soldier was still not relaxed. But it wasn’t because of any perceived danger. The woman was incredibly beautiful. Thin, pink lips; round, innocent face; big, expressive eyes; that sharp, peacock-like nose; and the long, flowing hair.

“Someone who saved your life,” she said as she went ahead and plucked the fruit the soldier was going to pluck, “This is poisonous.”

“Thank you,” the soldier had gathered some composure by then.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“I am not dying. But something to eat, that won’t kill me, would have been good.”

“Let me see,” she looked around, “”Here! Try this one. This isn’t poisonous.” She plucked another fruit from a nearby tree and offered it to him.

“And how do you know the difference?”

“This jungle is like my home.”

“You look fearless. It can be quite dangerous.”

“You are passing through it as well.”

“I am a soldier. I have my sword, and my training, to protect me.”

“I have my knowledge of the jungle to keep me away from danger. And in the worst case, I can wield my weapons as well,” she deftly pulled out a dagger that was hidden under her dupatta at her waist.

“Wow! You are dangerous,” the soldier was impressed and amused, “I hadn’t noticed that you were armed.” Who could have? Before such beauty and grace! No wonder many wise men professed that women were always the undoing of men. She could have been an assassin in disguise!

“And I know the poisonous fruits from the domesticated ones! In the jungle, I am safer than you are,” she completed her defense.

“You could teach me, then. Distinguishing good fruits from the bad ones.”

“That is not like reading scriptures. I can’t hand you a book to read. This is experience. Doesn’t come in one day.”

“I can come again.”

The woman laughed at his attempts at flirting. “We’ll see. If you are destined to learn, our paths may cross again. Until then, I take your leave.”

“What on earth are you doing?” The soldier was racing his horse and barely managed to pull up in time to save the woman from getting trampled, “Why did you come before the horse so suddenly? What were you thinking?”

“I saw you and I thought I should test you.”

“Test me? For what?”

“Whether you are good enough to be my student.”

“Your student?”

“Ah! You forget, Soldier! You had wanted me to teach you the ways of jungle. Well – at least distinguishing a poisonous fruit from a good one.”

“I haven’t forgotten. But how can coming before my galloping horse at the last moment be a test of whether I should be taught the ways of jungle?”

“If you are not good at what you have already been trained for, you can be no good at what you will be taught next.”

“I see. And what is it that I am already trained for?”

“You are a soldier. You ride a fine horse. I believe you are trained in horse-riding.”

“That I am. And I can ride my horse much faster than what you have seen till now. Even in a battlefield.”

“But being a good rider is not about being fast. At least, not only about that. The ability to control the horse quickly is what distinguishes a great rider from a mediocre one!”

An appreciative smile spread on the soldier’s lips. “You are wise,” he said sincerely.

“That I am.”

“So, did I pass your test?”

“Almost.”

“Then will you teach me?”

“Were you coming here for a lesson? Don’t you have any other work?”

“I was exercising my horse.”

“Then continue doing what you were. I have to go back now. It’s getting late.”

“What about my lesson?”

“If you are destined to learn, our paths may cross again. But today I must leave.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my home?”

“You stay in the jungle?”

“No. I stay in the city.”

“Why do you come to the jungle then?”

“The city has no use of my wisdom?”

“That sounds ridiculous. City definitely has more use for wise people.”

“Wise men. Not for wise women. Bye. Until we meet again.”

“Accept my greetings,” the woman was the one surprised this time. She hadn’t realized when the soldier came with the horse and unmounted it.

“Good day, Sir.”

“Today is indeed a good day for me.”

“Why?”

“Some problems I was trying to resolve for weeks have finally been resolved. And then I got to meet you.”

She just smiled in reply. Her countenance was sad that day. Not jubilant as usual.

“Shall we start our lesson today?”

“No point starting it now. I won’t be coming here anymore.”

“Why not?”

“My parents have fixed my marriage.”

“That’s great. And aren’t you happy about it?”

“No.”

“Why? Is your finacee not handsome?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care much either.”

“Is he poor? Can’t he look after you?”

“Oh, he is rich. Extremely rich. That is the problem.”

Soldier raised his eyebrows, “Why should that be a problem?”

“He is so rich that he can afford to have multiple wives. He already has three. I will be the fourth one.”

“So? Most rich and noblemen have many wives.”

“You are a man. You won’t understand.”

“Hmm…”

“Not your fault. Even most women don’t understand what my problem is.”

“You want your rich, noble husband all to yourself?” The soldier smiled patronizingly.

“If it’s impossible to have a rich, noble husband to yourself, I can’t live without a rich and noble man for a husband.”

“Yeah? You will marry a villager?”

“I won’t. But not because they are poor.”

“Then?”

“Their mind is base and unrefined. They command no respect.”

“Then? What would you do if you had a choice? Whom would you marry?” The soldier was laughing now.

“Why not a Brahmin?”

“A Brahmin? Over a rich, noble man? Former commands respect. The latter commands respect, and has money for worldly comforts.”

Swagrihe Pujyate Murkhah Swagrame Pujyate Prabhuh
Swadeshe Pujyate Raja Vidwaan Sarvatra Pujyate.

(Translation: Even if a man is a fool, he is respected in his home (as the head). A rich, landowner is respected in his village. A king is respected in his kingdom. But a learned man is respected everywhere.)

The woman recited dreamily. It took her a while to come out of her thoughts and realize that the soldier was staring at her in disbelief. Then she realized what she had done. They had been speaking in commoner’s local language till then. But her suddenly spouting a Shloka in Sanskrit clearly gave her away. The soldier knew that she wasn’t an average city dweller. She must be a noblewoman, that too one belonging to the highest echelons of the society, for having been educated that well in Sanskrit. Her pronunciation was perfect. He had already noticed multiple times that her beauty, her grooming and her grace were impeccable. She had no ordinary upbringing.

Bhadre! Who are you? You adorn a commoner’s garb. But that is just a façade.”

He had questioned her in Sanskrit. That made it clear that he, too, was no ordinary soldier. Must be a nobleman and someone high-up in the chain of administrative command of a kingdom. If he were a commoner, she would have cooked up an alibi that she learned that particular shloka in the accidental company of a noblewoman. But he would be able to see through it and would know that she was lying. So, instead of trying to lie, she decided to appeal to his kindness.

She replied in Sanskrit, “Arya! You could gain nothing from learning about my identity. And obviously I do not know your real identity either. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Why?”

“God is my witness that I have done nothing wrong. But anyone in the society knowing about my little jungle escapades won’t take it kindly.”

“Why do you like the jungle so much?”

“It afforded me the freedom that my society never will. This is the real childhood home that I will have to leave behind and that I will miss. Anyway, this is probably my last escapade. I take your leave and wish you all the best. It was a good day for you. Don’t let it be spoiled on my account.”

 

Hopeless Hope (Part 20)

Posted 9 CommentsPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

“Rupali,” Asim spoke to Rupali alone before leaving, “I know that I startled you with the proposal of a wedding in Kolkata with me making the arrangements. I am sorry. My idea is not to impose myself on you. So, if you say no, I won’t mention it again. I had been thinking about it for a while. But had not been sure how to talk about it. It just came out on the dinner table,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “The reason I want to do it is…. selfish. It will make me really happy. I had wanted to be a father to you. I genuinely had. Unfortunately, the way the game of life played out, I didn’t get to do that. But that wish, that feeling never went away. You have no idea how I had leapt with joy when you called me after our accidental meeting at the concert. I couldn’t be a father to you in your growing up years. But all through those years, every time I thought about Mou, I also thought about you. In my obsessed mind, I had a daughter. Not that I could do anything for her, but I had her. If you would let me do this, arrange your wedding, it’d make me really happy. However, don’t feel any pressure to say ‘yes’. Do it only if it’d make you happy too, or if it doesn’t interfere with your happiness at least. Okay?”

Rupali’s eyes were moist at his honest declaration. “I am just the luckiest person in the world Mr. Sen, surrounded by so many people who care for me. But for this I’d need to consult Paritosh as well.”

“Of course.”

Paritosh hadn’t objected. The winter break had come and they had all flown to Kolkata. The wedding was lavish, arrangement impeccable and the concert was grand. Despite feeling extremely conscious Mouli had sung with Asim once. It was one of the songs she had written and composed herself all those years back. The song had received a cult following in Kolkata in those days. When Asim announced that Mouli was the songwriter, the applause refused to die down for several minutes. All her songs were credited in his albums. With the name “M. Chatterjee”. Nobody knew who that was. And most people did not look for the names of the lyricists.

The newlyweds were not sure about leaving Mouli alone for their honeymoon. But Asim promised to take care of her when they were gone. So, they went on a week-long trip to Mauritius. Mouli had stayed back in Kolkata for that period. She didn’t agree to stay at Asim’s house. But he made arrangements for someone to be always there with her in her hotel suite. Whenever he didn’t have any engagement, he stayed with her himself.

Paritosh and Rupali landed back in Kolkata. They were to go back to Mumbai after three days.

“Ma. You had to get your check-up done the day before. Did you…” Rupali started asking after Mouli’s health as soon as they entered her room.

“Yes Rupali,” Asim replied before Mouli could, “Relax. We got the recommendation for a local doctor from her doctor in Mumbai and we took her there. Everything is in control. No effect whatsoever of stress from the wedding.”

“What stress did I have that it should make a difference,” Mouli said with a smile, “Asim had made all arrangements. I was here like a guest.”

“Come on…”

“She is right Mr. Sen,” Paritosh interrupted with a smile, “That was true for both of us as well. But none of us are complaining. We enjoyed it thoroughly.”

Rupali noticed that Asim’s eyes betrayed more emotions and happiness than his smile or facial expressions did. He was really happy to have played that role.

But it happened that afternoon itself. Her breathing became laboured. “It’s a stroke,” Rupali screamed, “Ambulance. Let’s get an ambulance. And call the doctor for immediate help.”

They had managed to revive her for a while. But even the doctor was bewildered. Such severe blockage. It wasn’t there two days ago. How could it happen so soon? Another surgery wasn’t an option. Too risky.

“You will be all right, Mou,” Asim stroked her hand. She shook her head to the extent she could. “My songs were all I had ever given to you Asim. They are all I will leave you with. I stopped singing, but not writing. Rupa. Two diaries are there in the shelves with his albums. Hand them over to him.”

“Ma. You will do that yourself,” Rupali was having trouble holding her tears back.

“It was my fault Rupa that you grew up fatherless, when you could have had such a wonderful and responsible father. Now, I leave you in his care. Give him the respect you always gave me. Okay?”

Rupali just nodded. A lump had already formed in her throat and if she tried to speak, she would cry.

“Paritosh. You brought Asim back in my life. I can never thank you enough for that. I am dying happy and fulfilled. Try to find the happiness you deserve in Rupa. I have nothing else to give to you.”

“You have given me the family I had lost one by one. I don’t want to lose my family again. You are not going anywhere.”

A weak smile formed on Mouli’s lips, “That light there… It’s very bright. But it doesn’t feel hot. It is very soothing…”

Paritosh looked around. It was clear to all of them that she was hallucinating.

“Mrs. Banerjeee. Ma….” Paritosh tried to bring her back.

Mouli’s hands felt heavy in Asim’s and he looked at her face in shock. It was expressionless. The beautiful, ever smiling face had death’s whiteness all over it. “Nurse,” he shouted.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. Nurse had already told them this. But the doctor was needed to give an official confirmation, “She has passed away.”

Rupali’s silent tears became miserable sobs. Paritosh held her and tried to comfort her, his own eyes betraying his pain and loss. Asim walked to them and patted Rupali’s head, “She died a happy woman, Rupali. Don’t cry and distress her now. She’d be looking at you.”

‘Jiboner Jatra’ (life’s journey) became the new best-selling album for Asim Sen. In the beginning of the recording he had emotionally introduced Mouli as the lyricist and reminded people of the songs they had loved. Probably for the first time in the history, people bought the album not for the singer, but for the lyricist. The royalties were all going to Rupali. She had objected at first. But Asim had a reply ready, “You have a right over what you parents earn. You can’t just turn away from it.” He’d be recording more albums with Mouli’s songs.

Rupali sat down with Bengali-English dictionary every day for one hour and read her mother’s poetry. “I wish I knew Bengali better,” she lamented before Paritosh. “I wish I knew Bengali at all,” he laughed, “Why don’t you explain this poem to me in English or Hindi.”

“If the dictionary isn’t failing me, this one means

We are the product
Of our choices
Let’s not blame
Forced sacrifices.

Sacrifices too after all
Are our own choices
World is not responsible
Responsible are our inner voices.

Grow the roots
Or chase the sky?
Decide for yourself
To stay or to fly.

Happiness comes in
Different things.
In growing fruits,
And in growing wings.

You might not have
Both the things.
But you can savour
What one of them brings.

We are the product
Of our choices
Let’s not blame
Forced sacrifices.”

“Beautiful!” Paritosh exclaimed, “And it rhymed in English too.”

Rupali chuckled, “Born to a poetess, married to poet, I had to try it. Rhyming is awkward, but I am trying to translate them in English.”

“Wonderful idea. I’ll get them published.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” he said as he lied down, kept his head in her lap and shut her eyes. Knowing Mouli and having Rupali were the blessings he couldn’t thank God enough for. Rupali kept aside the notebook and dictionary and bent down to plant a kiss on Paritosh’ forehead. She could feel lucky anew everyday with this man!

– The End –

Hopeless Hope (Part 19)

Posted Leave a commentPosted in English, Original, Rupali-Paritosh

“Rupali!” Paritosh’ alarmed look at the door-bell ringing changed to a happily excited one when he saw who was at the door. He held her hands and led her inside the house closing the door after them. He held her wordlessly before him for a few moments and then planted a slow, sensuous, lingering kiss on her lips. She was smiling shyly when they parted. “Thanks for coming,” he whispered to her and started caressing her back and nape right there.

“Dr. Khanna,” she objected through her laboured breath.

“What happened?”

“Raja…” she referred to the housekeeper.

Paritosh grinned, “Raja is not a problem. He is fast asleep. But ‘Dr. Khanna’ is. We’ll get rid of it tonight. Come.”

He led her to his bedroom. The lavishness of the room was something she was used to by now.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked after she was seated on the bed. She just shook her head in reply.

“Aren’t you going to talk?”

“Ma thought we had fought,” Rupali said with a smile of shared understanding.

He smiled and sat down beside her. “Did we?” he asked in a gentle voice.

“No,” her voice was hardly audible, but she also shook her head. Her eyes were lowered.

He cupped her face and lifted it to make her look into his eyes, “I am sorry. For scaring you earlier in the evening.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t complain to Ma about it,” she chuckled at her own joke.

“Not even about your crumpled clothes?” Partiosh mocked seriousness.

“No.”

“But they will be crumpled again.”

“This is satin. It won’t crumple.”

“You are telling me we are safe.”

“Yes.”

It was only for so long that he could keep himself away from those lips of hers on which a naughty smile was playing. But if their encounter earlier in the evening was like getting high on tequila shots, this one was like sipping a vintage wine slowly to savour the subtle, delicate taste. He went slowly and she responded in the same rhythm. But that didn’t lessen the power he had over her. Her body grew needier by the moment. She arched her back, grabbed at the sheets and literally struggled under his weight with the sensations running through her body. When he could see that she was at his mercy and he himself was on the edge, he whispered in her ear, “You know what I am waiting for. I want to hear your voice, please Rupali.”

She shut her eyes tightly. How she hated and loved him at the same time! He was really going to use that moment to get her to call him by name? She won’t give in. But that resolve did not last long. The only way to not give in was to pull away from him. Otherwise her need would kill her.  And pulling away was not an option for her. He must also know that. What else could explain her coming to him at that hour? Slipping out like a teenager after her mother was asleep?

“Paritosh. Please!!”

She wasn’t the only one who was helpless. He would have liked to make her repeat that name. Again and again! But his own self-control was giving way. He nibbled at her earlobes as the last act of foreplay and entered her making her gasp in surprise at first, but moan in pleasure later.

“I need to go back,” she sat up after a while.

“Do you?”

“Yes. It would be awkward if Ma wakes up to not find me at home.”

“She takes her medicines. She won’t wake up before morning, right? I will walk you back before that. Let’s say at three in the morning?”

“What if we fall asleep?”

“I will set an alarm.”

“Fine, Dr. Khanna.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Looks like you are a dumb student in this course. Shall we repeat the lesson?”

“No. No,” she protested, “You were being mean. That was not a fair trick at all.”

“Everything is fair in love and war, Rupali. And I had fairly requested you many a times earlier.”

Rupali smiled in defeat, but still argued, “It is the habit of years.”

“We hadn’t even spoken for over six years Rupali. How can it be a habit? Of years?”

“Habit from thought, if not from speech. Our not speaking didn’t mean I didn’t think about you, did it?”

“No,” he conceded with a smile, “Then let me appeal on the grounds of change. A lot has changed since the time when we didn’t speak to, only thought of, each other, hasn’t it? So, how you address me needs to change as well.”

“I will try. But I feel very awkward. Especially before others. People in the department, for example…”

“Fine. Let’s start with it in private at least?”

“Okay.”

And they talked on. Intimately and comfortably. About their past, other people in their lives, about their future dreams!

The alarm came handy not for waking them up. But for reminding them that she needs to be back at her house.

“You don’t need to come with me, Dr. Khanna. It isn’t unsafe. Stay in bed.”

“Firstly, if you call me Dr. Khanna, nothing you ask for is going to be accepted. Secondly I just want those five extra minutes with you, walking down the road.”

Rupali blushed and grinned as both of them got out of the bed and dressed up to step out.

“Mou. You should sing with me,” Asim was back in town after couple of weeks and was dining with them.

“Sing with you? Where?”

“Wherever! On the stage. In an album.”

“Ma sings?” Rupali was surprised.

“Used to,” Mouli replied before Asim could, “Long, long back. In some other era, Rupa. Asim is joking.”

“I am not joking. Because your mother was very promising as a singer and as a songwriter.”

“Songwriter? As in poetry?”

“Do you hear Bengali songs, Rupali? Have you heard ‘Majhir Nouka’ sung by me?”

“Ma has the recording. She has played it several times.”

“Who do you think was lyricist?”

“I… never found out. You are telling me it was Ma?”

Asim smiled and confirmed it with a shrug that indicated that it was obvious.

“Wow! What all do I not know about you, Ma?”

“Nothing that matters, Rupa. It was all a long time ago.”

“Well. It matters a lot to me,” Asim said, “Until I ran out of the songs from the notebook you had left with me, most of my performances and recordings used your lyrics. Only after that…”

“Good you ran out of them then,” Mouli laughed slightly in a self-deprecating fashion, “Because it is only after you picked up other poets and lyricists that you started becoming famous.”

“That is again not true. Do you know Rupali which is my best-selling album till date?”

“I’d do some Wikipedia search on you before we meet next time, but for now – no. I don’t know.”

Asim laughed, “Since I didn’t understand exactly what you intend to do to find out before we meet next time, I will tell you. My best-selling album is one of Bengali songs and not of Hindi as one would expect. It is called ‘Jibon-Dhara’ – meaning ‘the stream of life’. ‘Majhir Nouka’ belongs to that album. And all other songs in that album were also written by Mou.”

Mouli colored. “I had no idea,” she mumbled. She actually didn’t know that ‘Jibon-Dhara’ was his best selling album.

Rupali stared wide-eyed from Mouli to Asim. Then her eyes fell on Paritosh. He had been silent, but was obviously quite surprised by the revelations.  “In a way, I am not surprised,” he spoke when he felt Rupali’s eyes on him, “Her sensitivity is incomparable. It is not at all surprising that there is a poet’s heart behind it. A great poet’s. What is surprising is, of course, that we didn’t know the extent of her achievements and the sacrifices she made…”

“For me,” Rupali added with some sadness.

“No Paritosh, Rupa. I made no sacrifices. I only took some decisions. We all have to choose between difficult options from time to time. And I believe that we are all the results of our choices, not that of any forced sacrifices. And Rupa. You don’t be an idiot. Even if you term that choice as a sacrifice, it was made at a time when you weren’t even born. The choice was made when I had decided to not wait for Asim and move on in my life.”

“But why not continue with music? With writing?” Rupali asked.

Mouli replied in a low voice, “That would have made moving on impossible. Music was too strongly related to him.”

“So coming to my original point,” Asim said cheerfully to make the mood lighter, “You should sing again, Mou. With me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Asim. The number of years for which I have not practiced is more than the number of years I had learnt.”

“You might not remember the technique, but the soul can’t go away. Music is in your soul.”

“Granted. But the audience won’t be forgiving about technique. I don’t want rotten tomatoes and onions on stage or the studio going bankrupt trying to record me at some minimum acceptable quality.”

“She doesn’t leave much scope for me to talk her out of her conviction, does she?” Asim addressed Rupali and Paritosh, “Fine. We’ll sing together in their wedding. You have to accept that, Mou.”

“Sing in their wedding?”

“We’ll have a live concert during the reception. I will sing and you will sing too.”

“You are so adamant, Asim.”

“What option do I have? One has to work hard to get small concessions from you.”

“Right. Right. Make me sound like an evil woman,” Mouli laughed, “If they agree to having a concert for their reception, I don’t have any objection.”

“I don’t see what is objectionable in that,” Rupali said and looked at Paritosh. He nodded in agreement.

“Actually, I have a better proposal. Let’s get them married in Kolkata. We’d have a great musical gathering then.”

“Kolkata? Come on Asim,” Mouli objected, “Who is going to make arrangements there?”

“I will. And you plan to get married during winter break, right? The weather will also be good.”

“But Mr. Sen, it will be too much of a hassle,” this extended proposal made Rupali and Paritosh uncomfortable.

“They are right, Asim,” Mouli agreed.

“Mou please,” Asim was sincere, “I want to do it. Please.”

Mouli sighed, “I understand you, Asim. But it is not for me to decide. Why don’t we give them some time and see if they are comfortable.”

“Sure.”

To be continued