Page 7

My mother and I returned to my chamber.

Closing the door on her way inside, she asked me, “, are you sure my child?”

She joined me as I sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m afraid he has nothing for you.

What if he'll never love you?”

She expressed her concern.

“I don't know, Maasa.

But my heart believes he will love me.

It's just a matter of time,”

I replied, unsure.

Her moist eyes and the way her palms gripped the bed sheet visibly revealed her sense of helplessness.

“If it weren’t for the safety of Abhinandan and thousands of people, I would've never let you do this.”

I softly held her hands in mine and made her look at me.

“Everything will be fine.

Trust me.

I know my choice can be worse sometimes, but not every time,”

I chuckled to lighten the mood.

She looked at me seriously, “But, what if it doesn't? What if what you are predicting might not happen?”

“It will, maasa.

It has to.

For me, for all of us...

It will be difficult, but this is the only way,”

I gently washed off her tears, and she gave a tired smile.

“Your father must be waiting for me.

I should go and talk to him.

If we want things to be in our favour, we need him on our side.

And, I believe he understands our point of view somewhere,” she said.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“He asked you about what exactly happened between you two,”

she reminded me, and I nodded for her to go on.

“And, knowing nothing happened, his anger subsided.

You know how your father is.

He supported your aunt, he supported me, and he will always support you.

If Rudra had ever asked for your hand in marriage, he surely would have considered,”

she finished, and I sighed.

“Let's not talk about him, Maasa.”

Standing up from the bed, she kissed my forehead and muttered, “But you cannot overlook his care for you.

I don't know his reasons for leaving you, but what if he thought that was the best for you?”

I closed my eyes and with a heavy heart said, “Vyakti ke chale jaane ke baad, uski chintaon ka koi mol nahi reh jaata, Maasa.

Unke mann mein humaare liye kitni hi chinta kyun na ho, yadi wo humaara saath nahi de sakte toh ve chintaein vyarth hai, aisi chinta ka koi arth nahi,”

(Once a person leaves us behind, his care stands of no value, maasa.

No matter how much they are concerned for us, if they cannot support us when we need it the most, that concern is meaningless, there is no point of such care.)

She gently placed her hand on my shoulder.

“All my life, I trusted people blindly, and suddenly a storm swept in and I couldn't trust anyone,”

she began sharing her experience.

“In my early twenties, I used to behave rebelliously; I became reckless.

As I did not trust anyone, I made some absurd decisions too.

But I learned everyone has a story to tell later in life.”

She softly caressed my hair and emphasized.

“We get so indulged in our problems, we start categorising people.

Friends, enemies, acquaintances, well-wishers.

It took me long enough to understand that we must try to hear their side of the story before concluding.

That is what a real king and a queen must do,”

Taking a deep breath and standing up from the bed, I compiled, “I know all of his side.

And after knowing and understanding, I concluded that I'd never met someone as selfish as him.

He didn't have to come into my life if he was going to leave.”

Tears brimmed in my eyes, and heaving heavily, I expressed my grief to her with my hands.

“I collected all my trust, my love, my pride and handed it over to him.

Despite knowing he is the son of our enemy, I thought he had gone through so much in his life that he needed someone to love him.

But he proved that he was the son of his father.

He took everything of mine and trampled it so easily, like it meant nothing.

He did not do anything ‘with’ me, but he did everything ‘to’ me that cannot be forgotten.”

I wept, my throat tightened with the weighing of grief.

“Immodest will be added before my name from now on.

People will call me foolish for staking my everything in the name of love.

It’ll now be written in the history of Indira that there was a nutty princess who served the pride of her empire to her enemies on a silver platter.”

I broke down in tears.

My mother broke into sobs and hugged me.

“It's not like that, .

A person cannot be defined by their mistakes.

People will always remember you for your kind heart and innocence.

You know, the villagers are not even ready to believe the rumours. This is what you have earned. This is our true pride,”

She patted my back, and I held on to her tighter, breaking into tears.

“And trust me, whoever did this will sew it,”

She muttered.

I didn't know why she was still hoping that I wouldn't marry the king and that Rudra would come and stop me from doing so.

“That will never happen, Maasa.”

Freeing me from the hug, she said, “You are not a mother yet.

A mother's instincts are always strong and real.”

I smiled at her belief and politely asked her to leave.

“You shall retire to your chamber, Maasa.

Baapusa must be waiting for you.”

***

Two weeks passed in silence, pain, and the perplexity of what might happen.

Rudra didn't return, and I didn’t understand why his absence left me with an unfilled void in my heart.

A part of me wanted to believe that this was all a dream and that when I opened my eyes, nothing of this sort had happened.

Unfortunately, this was the reality.

Finally, a moment of joy arrived in my somber life when my mother told me that my aunt and cousins had come to the palace.

Their presence brought a smile to my face.

Ruhani, my cousin and my best friend.

Growing up, we shared each moment of our lives in letters.

Although everyone was saddened by the events unfolding in the palace, the decorations and preparations continued in full swing.

My father took charge of everything by himself.

At my request, no one informed my brother about any of this.

If he knew what was happening here, I knew he would come back and do something we might all regret.

I covered my head with the dupatta and ran towards the main entrance, with Suman following me.

As we passed through the royal gardens, I screamed at her in a merry voice, “Come, fast!”

She giggled heartily, “, stop.”

She tried to catch me, but I reached the entrance before her, where my family awaited the guests.

I looked at my grandmother, waiting desperately to meet her dearest daughter, Ruhani's mother, sister of my father, my Gulaab Buaa16.

Finally, huge trumpets were blown to announce their arrival, and the attendees began showering rose petals upon their sight.

My aunt and uncle walked towards us, followed by Ruhani and her husband, Ruhani's brother Haider, and another girl I didn't recognize.

My heart leapt with absolute delight as I looked at everyone.

My father laughed in immense joy as my buaa came closer to him.

“Pranaam17 Bhaisa18,”

She greeted him with adjoined hands, and he collected her in a warm hug.

Both of them broke down in tears of happiness.

Looking at them, I realised how close they were despite the literal distance between them.

“How are you, Gulaab?”

He asked her.

“I’m good, Bhaisa, very good.

I missed you a lot,”

She said, moving from the hug and wiping off her tears.

“How are you?”

she asked, and he replied with a smile, “As the same as you left me.”

She chuckled, and Ruhani's father stepped forward.

“Raja Sahab, aapki behen aapko bilkul yaad nahi karti,”

(Raja Sahab, your sister doesn't miss you at all.) My father chuckled, hearing him, and they both shared a hug, patting each other’s shoulders.

Releasing the hug, they looked at each other, amused.

“Gulaab, hum abhi bhi keh rahe hai, Humein ye vyakti kuch thik nahi lagta,”

(Gulaab, I’m telling you, there is something still wrong with this man).

My father teased him, and my Buaa put on a false show of crying.

“Bhaisa, don't say that,”

and their laughs reverberated.

My mother forged ahead with the Aarti ki thaali19 and looked at my father.

“Stop teasing my sweet Nanad20,”

“Bhabhisa21,”

my aunt screamed in glee, and my mother laughed.

She then began circling the aarti ki thali in front of them as a gesture of their welcome and handed over the plate to an attendee.

My mother bent forward to touch my aunt's feet out of respect, but my aunt stopped her midway.

“We must hug, Bhabhisa.”

They both hugged each other.

Once they were done greeting each other, my aunt walked over to my grandmother, who took her in the warmest of embraces.

As I looked at them all teary, I turned emotional, recalling my grandfather, who was no more.

“How are you, Maasa?”

My grandmother choked back her tears and kissed her on the cheek.

“As young as a teenager to see my daughter happy,”

my uncle stepped forward to meet my grandmother and kissed her hand.

He then came closer to hug her like a son.

“Rakh lijiye, Maasa, apni beti to kuch din apne paas rakh lijiye,”

(Keep her, Maasa, keep your daughter with you for a few days) he said.

My grandmother laughed at his words and replied, “Aapki dharohar hai aap hi sambhaalein, jamai sa.

Hum to kanyadaan kar chuke hain,”

(She's all yours to take care of, Jamai sa..

We have already fulfilled our duty)

He smiled and asked in a loving tone, “How is your health now?”

She nodded and answered, “Better… takes care of me, but now she is leaving too.”

I stepped forward to meet my aunt and uncle.

“Pranaam Phuphasa22,”

I greeted him.

He placed his hand on my head and blessed me.

My aunt, too, hugged me.

“Pranaam, Buaasa,”

She patted my back affectionately.

“God bless you.

How are you now?”

I smiled, moving away,

“I am doing well,”

she cheerfully exclaimed.

“We have a surprise for you.”

I frowned when she called for Ruhani.

I saw her come and stand in front of me.

Suddenly moving her mouth, she spoke, “.”

My eyes bulged out, and my heart paused briefly in immense shock.

“What?”

She came closer to hug me, and I hugged her back, my lips stretching into the widest smile.

“Congratulations on your wedding, .

Who is the lucky man?”

She asked, and I released myself from the hug, still in disbelief.

She could speak?!

Our attention was caught by the voice of my phuphasa, who was talking to my father.

“Raja sahab, you've met Ruhani and Haider.

Now, meet a new addition to our family, Sultan Aahil, Ruhani’s husband.”

He stepped forward hesitantly and greeted my father.

“Assalamualaikum, Raja sah—I mean Maamujaan23,”

I looked at Ruhani, who went to stand beside him.

“Pranam, Maamujaan,”

she greeted him, and my father took both of them together in his embrace with relish.

“Ahaa….

God bless you both.”

***