𖤓┊𝐊𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐘𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐌 ⋆
━━━━━━ 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓.
❛ . . . and she wonders if it's serenity that she craves, or savagery ? ❜
As the Kurus lament and the world cries out in pain cursing the destiny, the charming trickster with a flute...
The woman who rose from the flames. The muse of the preserver. She was racing heartbeats, vigilant eyes, a parched mouth and a faint absent mindedness as she gaped at her resplendent homeland- the pristine Kampilya as it was embellished in gems and flowers for the occasion of her- their marriage. She and the blue god of Dvaraka. The finance minister and the witty cowherd who stole hearts and butter.
Kamalnayani surreptitiously peered from the balcony at the glowing globe of fire, craving for a soothing wind of the early winters as her cape embraced her willowy arms, gathered in a pile of slightly shuddering muscles and aching bones and yet rigid to bask in them. She was a paradox.
She could have just denied, for all she knew. The gentleman of infantile mischief would have even abided for rectitude itself stemmed from him and everything would have continued as casually as it had been. Her monsters would have accompanied her again, she was never in solitude. But things weren't as simple as they appeared to be, she knew. She heard whispers in silence and apologies in the wrinkled eyes of the father she had jabbed through her hush and rash. The one hadn't seeked her but never let anyone lay a finger on her. Who'd say she brought blood moons everywhere she went?
“Dvarakadheesha asked us not to wake you.” Her chaperon sauntered in with teasing smiles and coyly fluttering lashes, offering a vial of warm mead to the fire princess who sat still against the walls sticking to the mahogany bed.
“He did?” She husked, smudging the kohl in her waterline that was almost the hue of the dark diplomat whom her heart chanted the name of. She was in quagmires and conundrums, but she was still inebriated by the muses of the Mohana. And the handmaiden was no novice to the amorous eyes of a damsel who lived amidst dungeons and dragons in one moment and daisies and dandelions the other.
“Oh yes yes. You were not having the most beautiful sleep yestreen to say the least. He had inquired about the same and I had to spill. But do perform haste princess, your haridra ceremony is to be held shortly in the coming auspicious hour.”
The chakras and doshas were shambolic to her mind once a garden of roses, the goddess knew and therefore she shut her eyes and breathed the name of the emperor of the cosmos. The one who taught her to walk ahead no matter what, for life is forever synonymous to struggle and change, the only constant law.
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“—and someday as I shall be the grave of what I am presently, a girl unwise to the ways of conquering her own emotions, I will be the woman who knows compassion and courage strutting hand in hand.
I shall live for my ambitions and glories yet to be known. Glories yet to be gained. Someday maybe. Perhaps. Conceivably there is a life much more idyllic waiting ahead for me.”
