To commence a saga with a classic, 'A long time back, there lived a Princess ' comes off as boring and to be truthful, redundant. But well, you see, when we are dishing about something that transpired to a Royal Goddess almost 5000 years ago, we don...
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She genuinely wasn't intending for such an extravagant entrance and receive when Padmavati passed into the skirts of Gandhara.
The town crier ululated, "Attention to all! The outstanding of all, the unconquerable and unbendable, Shri Padmavati and the man of the hour, Sanchalak Aniruddha, of the holy and righteous ground of Padminipur are assembling an entrance in the Great Hall!"
The addressed duo peeked at each other, skeptical and amused by the warm welcome they were getting, unlike any of them foresaw, that is, with a cold shoulder.
With a conclusive look shared, both ambled into the chateau.
Padmavati looked around the place, the last time she had been there, her intellect was too vexed and preoccupied to catch a glimpse of the magnificence around her. The lavish ceiling was beige in colour, with elaborate compositions and painting all over them. The pillars of support were engraved with intricate and meticulous sculpting from top to bottom and were beyond earthly beaut.
The flooring on which she strode ahead was of marble block which with every step had a diminutive gold quadrangle in the centre. The seats on which the committee constituents sat were whittled out of rosewood and over with a blood-colored fabric for buffering and at the rim of every seat was a miniature fragmented piece of Lapis Lazuli.
The coffers were utilized efficiently, it appeared.
"Pranipat, Maharaj!" Padmavati reverberated, "A pleasure to see you, again."
It was observable in his gaze, the hatred King Subal retained for her, the captivator of his son. He made a struggle to fabricate a smile of some sort, failing plainly.
"The pleasure is all mine, Rajkumari." he nodded at her and Aniruddha, his eyes remaining on the latter for a moment, "You must be Aniruddha, son of Veer Kalam?"
Ani nodded curtly, his jaw clenched as he learned what was coming next, "'Martyr' VeerKalam, Maharaj. Undoubtedly, I am."
Subal laughed, "Ah! I recollect it very generously," he comprehended he was roughly to riddle a nerve, "The day I slew him with my own hands, certainly a day of tremendous contentment to us."
