Wedding invitation

It has been three months since I arrived here. Every day, every hour, I spend in this restlessness, waiting for the moment when I will step upon the chests of my enemies and take back my Jwalapur. But today... today’s sun has brought a different kind of sadness. There is a strange pain in my chest, as if some bad news is floating in the winds.

I finished my daily chores quickly and completed my morning prayers sitting at Guru ji's feet. But my mind was not there at all.

In the afternoon, when I went to the kitchen, I saw that Gurumata was a bit troubled. She was searching for something here and there, the lines of anxiety clear on her face.

"Guru maa? What are you looking for? Can I help you with something?" I asked softly, approaching her.

Gurumata turned and looked at me, a strange hesitation in her eyes. "No daughter... it was... an old letter... I don't know where I put it..."

She went a bit further inside and found it under an old chest. It was a heavy, royal paper embossed with the royal seal of Ashoknagar. As soon as I saw that mark, my heartbeat quickened.

"What is this Guru maa? Such a royal letter... where has it come from?" I asked, extending my hand.

Gurumata pressed the letter to her chest, as if she wanted to protect me from it. "Sree... this is of no use to you. You go, take your rest."

"No Guru maa... you are lying. Your eyes are afraid. Tell me, has this come from Ashoknagar? Has... has Manveer sent some message?" I spoke excitedly; I wanted to know about him. "How is he now, Guru maa?"

Gurumata took a deep breath and handed the letter to me with trembling hands. There was pain in her voice. "It is the wedding invitation of Rana Manveer Singh Chauhan."

Wedding?

The letter almost fell from my hands. I opened it with trembling hands. It was written in golden letters: 'You are welcome to the auspicious wedding of Rana Manveer Singh Chauhan and Princess Diya of Bundelkhand.'

The same name... the same Manveer... who had told me on the steps of Chandra Mahal that he wouldn't even breathe without me. Today, he is preparing to adorn someone else’s parting with vermilion?

I felt as if the world around me had collapsed. My 'Veer' was no longer mine.

'Wedding'... 'Diya'... 'Manveer'.

"No... this cannot happen," I said, stumbling. I ran my fingers over that royal paper, wondering if this was real or a nightmare.

"Guru maa, this is some conspiracy. Manveer promised me... he looked into my eyes and said that without me, there would be only darkness in the Sheeshmahal of Ashoknagar. Then how can he brighten his life with some 'Diya'?"

I pressed that letter to my chest, the very place where Manveer once rested his head and said he was mine.

"My Veer cannot do this..." My voice had now become a sob. "He must be thinking that I am dead, that is why he is doing all this? Yes, that must be it! He thinks I am no more... but has even my memory been erased? Are 3 months so long that an entire lifetime can be forgotten?"

I looked toward Gurumata, a final ray of hope in my eyes. "Guru maa, say that he is helpless. Say that the enemy has held a sword to his head, and that is why he is having this wedding. He loves me... he still loves only me... doesn't he?"

Gurumata stepped toward me and took me into her embrace. Her veil began to soak with my tears. She said nothing, only stroked my back. Her silence was the bitterest answer to my questions.

I began to remember those moments—those rainy nights of Jwalapur, meeting in secret, Manveer making a fuss over the whole city just for a single scratch on me. Was all that a lie? Were they just words that flew away with time?

"Betrayal..." I said, clenching my teeth. Now there was no crying in my voice, only a chill. "He betrayed me. While I was here, praying every moment for a chance to return to him, he was there, preparing to welcome someone else's bridal palanquin. My parents are gone, my kingdom is gone... and today, my Manveer is gone too."

I crushed that letter so hard that it became a lifeless ball of paper in my fist.

"I want to see this 'Diya' extinguished, Guru maa. I want to see who it is that has the courage to adorn her forehead with the vermilion that belonged to me."

I clutched that crumpled paper in my fist and ran toward my room. My legs were trembling, my mind was numb. As soon as the door of the room closed, I slid down against the wall.

"No... Veer... you cannot do this," I said, sobbing.

I picked up the earthen pot kept in my room and hurled it against the wall. Crash! It shattered like glass—exactly like my trust. I started tearing at my hair. Every single moment... every single promise... was screaming in my ears.

"You said I was your breath! Then how are you building a life with someone else? Did you not think of me even once?"

I wanted to scream, but only a stifled groan escaped my throat. I gripped my pillow tightly, as if I could bury my pain inside it. My eyes had begun to swell from crying, but a sudden wave of anger rose in my chest.

I stood up and faced the mirror. My eyes were red, my hair disheveled. I looked at that helpless girl in the mirror and began to feel hatred.

"No... Rajsree Sisodia does not cry like this," I brushed away my tears. "If he has erased me, then I must show him that I am still alive. That altar... that wedding... that Diya... everything will be ash."

I stepped out of the room quickly and moved toward Guru ji's quarters. There was no fear in my pace now, only obsession.

Guru ji was sitting there in meditation. I stepped inside without knocking.

Gurumata arrived there as well. There was pity for me in her eyes, but I didn't want pity anymore, I just wanted my right.

"Guru ji... take me with you," I said, sobbing. "You are going to Ashoknagar, aren't you? Take me along. I want to see with my own eyes how he takes someone else’s hand."

Guru ji took a deep breath and placed his hand on my head, but his words did not act as a balm; they fell like salt upon my wounds.

"Sree... be calm, daughter. Rana Manveer is not a bad person. You do not know how much burden a kingdom places upon a King. Perhaps... perhaps for the welfare and politics of Ashoknagar, he is having to drink this bitter cup. He is doing all this for his duty."

Hearing his words, my crying stopped suddenly. I lifted my head and looked at him. "Duty? Politics?" I let out a bitter laugh. "So my emotions, the sacrifice of my parents, and those promises... are they nothing before politics? Even you are taking their side?"

Gurumata tried to comfort me, "Sree, he wants to protect you from the hurt..."

"No Gurumata!" I brushed her hand away. "This is not a hurt, this is my murder. And I have understood... you will not help me. You want me to sit here and listen to the auspicious music of their wedding?"

I wiped my tears with my palm. The crying had ended in my eyes; there was only a cold stubbornness now. I had understood that Guru ji would not ask for "justice" for me. I would have to make my own way.

"Fine... if you will not take me, then I will not go," I lied; there was a strange silence in my voice that even surprised Guru ji. "I will stay here and weep over my fate."

I bowed to them and came outside. But in my mind, there was no more crying, instead, a cunning conspiracy was unfolding.

I returned to my chamber. The room was the same, but my world had changed. Guru ji thought he had convinced me, but he didn't know that his words of 'duty' and 'politics' had turned the remaining pieces of my heart into stone.

"Manveer... your duty is leading you toward a wedding, and my duty is leading me toward your destruction."

I stripped off my silk garments—the clothes that reminded me of my royal identity. I put on a simple brown cotton ghagra and covered my head with an old dupatta.

I looked in the mirror. Princess Rajsree was no longer there; instead, a poor orphan girl stood there.

In the late hours of the night, while the whole ashram was asleep, I saw Gurumata’s servant, 'Kasturi', drawing water from the well. She was tired. I went to her, spoke softly, and by engaging her in conversation, mixed that sleeping herb into her drinking water.

After a while, I went to her room where she had fallen into a deep sleep after drinking the water.

"Forgive me Kasturi... but my reaching Ashoknagar is very, very important," I said, seeing her asleep.

I laid her in a corner and covered her with a cloth so that no one would notice her.

Morning arrived.

Gurumata was ready. When she asked where Kasturi was, I stood before her with my face covered. I changed my voice and said, "Gurumata, Kasturi is unwell, she has sent me to serve you."

Gurumata was in a hurry, she didn't pay attention. We sat in the carriage and set off toward Ashoknagar.

Every step of the carriage was taking me toward the palace where my love was to be executed. Outside, on the borders of Ashoknagar, people were celebrating. Lamps were being lit everywhere—the same 'Diya' whose name had pushed my soul into darkness.

I looked out of the carriage window. The tall minarets of the Swarnmahal were visible.

My heart was beating loudly— "My heart was aching for a single glimpse of him, yet that very same heart, scorched by his betrayal, craved nothing more than to unleash its fury and turn him to ash."

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