In an extraordinary twist of fate, the soul of a modern-day young woman named Aarna finds itself inexplicably swapped with that of a princess from the 9th century, wedded to none other than the formidable Rajadhiraja Yashwardhan Rao. Yashwardhan fal...
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Entering my mother's chamber, I felt the weight of the book in my arms. There she was, seated peacefully with her eyes closed, as though lost in a serene moment. I approached cautiously, feeling a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.
I leaned in and gently kissed her forehead, prompting her to open her eyes. The softness of her smile reassured me as she motioned for me to sit beside her. "What brings you here, my dear?" Her voice was warm, filled with a mother's affection.
Surprised by her question, I stumbled for words. "Mother, you know I always come to visit," I replied, my mind racing to understand her meaning.
"But not since you got married," she responded, her tone tinged with sadness. It hit me then—I had neglected my visits, absorbed in the whirlwind of work and my own growing world with Aarna.
"I'm sorry, mother. I didn't realize—" I began, but she gently interrupted me.
"It's alright. What is it you wanted to say?" Her eyes held a mix of curiosity and concern.
Taking a deep breath, I placed the book before her. As she beheld its cover, her reaction was immediate and profound. She seized the book, her hands trembling, tears welling in her eyes.
I watched her closely, knowing this book held deep significance. "Mother—"
"Where did you find this?" Her voice quivered with emotion. I hesitated, unsure whether to reveal the truth.
"Do you know what this book is about?" I asked cautiously, seeking a way forward. She met my gaze, then returned the book to my hands with a nod.
Straightening myself, I pressed her gently. "Please, tell me."
Her hesitation was palpable, but she finally spoke. "This book was written by your father." I know that obviously. But if she knows this then she knows many things, perhaps.
"Please, share all the details with me," I implored, drawing in a deep breath, my mind prepared for the unveiling of whatever secrets my mother held.
"When your father was younger, he had a close friend named Kaleekma," my mother began, her voice carrying a weight of reminiscence. "Your father and she were more than friends; they were destined to marry. But something happened—something your father never disclosed to me—and he began to distance himself from her."
I pondered this revelation. What could have transpired that my father kept from my mother?
"Then, your father met me," my mother continued, her eyes reflecting the depth of their love. "We fell deeply in love and eventually became engaged and married as soon as circumstances allowed. But Kaleekma was not pleased with our union."
I listened intently, eager for more.
"Even before our marriage, whenever I was alone, she would come and scare me," my mother recounted. "After our marriage, her rage escalated to the point where she wanted to harm your father. For years, she relentlessly pursued us. We had you, yet even that did not dissuade her."
