Chapter 1: The Birth of an Heir

Chapter 1: The Birth of an Heir

Hey everyone, how's it going? It's been a while, but I finally found some time to write. I'd love to read your thoughts on this chapter - feel free to share any feedback, even the negative stuff! 😊🌃💤 Take care,

Good night 🌉 😴

Sabu

In the heart of Ranthambore Kingdom, first wife of head of chief, Vikram Vanraj , Sushila lay on her ornate bed, surrounded by the whispers of anxious attendants and the soft glow of diyas. Her husband, the head of their community, paced outside, his footsteps echoing with anticipation.

instinctively wrapped around her swollen belly as she chanted Lord Shiva's name, her lips trembling with pain. while bearing tremulous pain of labour , ,: "Shiva, please save this one... not blood this time... please help me bring this child into the world."

The midwife rose slowly from her haunches, aged joints creaking, and hobbled to the entrance. She fastened the flap, came back to the woman, lifted the blanket, and peered between her legs.

Sushila's eyes remained shut, her arms clasped around her belly, as she bit her lower lip, now bleeding from her clenched teeth. Her arms clasped at the distended swollen belly and she kept her eyes shut as she wanted to see nothing before seeing the first glimpse of her baby, a healthy living baby, heir of their dynasty , eyes huge and frightened. Sweat soaked through her hair and pooled in a dark circle on the pillow.

Suddenly a voice as soothing as a cold breeze gave little relief to her sweating body, She felt the hand on her forehead.

The night was long, filled with pain, and she slipped in and out of reality,

The midwife's soothing voice cut through the tension. "Everything will be alright, Your Sardani." But Sushila's mind raced with dark memories of her two miscarriage children. "What if this child, too, came out dead?" Fears are haunted in her mind.

The midwife who was standing on the right-hand side of Sushila, a gentle touch, guided Sushila's knees apart and bent her both knees while lying down on the bed. Her one hand slipped over the pubis of the Sushila another one at the junction of her lower borderline of her both beasts.

Her hand felt a hard, small firm globular mass just below in between her breast line.

In the pelvic area, she felt a broad, irregular and soft part.

"The child will come out of their feet first... it will be easier." The midwife assured Sushila.

The lamps flickered feebly, casting eerie shadows on the walls as the midwife, foetid air made the temperature Inside the room warmer.

Observing Sushila exhausted with energy and drainage with body sweats and gasping for breath commands the attendants to open the curtains so little air came inside the room. One of the slaves drew the drapes aside an inch and allowed a sliver of cool night air to enter the sweltering room., a tangible presence.

"The next time the pain comes, push with all your might, Maharani," the midwife urged, her voice firm yet gentle.

As Sushila's body convulsed again, she let out a primal wail, her voice echoing through the chamber. The midwife's hands moved with precision, reaching inside to grasp one tiny leg, slick with birth fluids, and guiding it out into the world. The other leg remained tucked near the head, but the midwife's skilled fingers coaxed it out, too, a few moments later. The ease of the legs' delivery belied the challenge still to come: the buttock the largest part of baby's body was coming out and but the head most stubborn part of the child, remained lodged within. As the night wore on, Sushila's cries grew more anguished, filling the room with a haunting melody, while the attendants held their collective breath, frozen in silent anticipation.

Fourteen hours of labour had taken their toll on Sushila, who lay back on the mattress, exhausted, as the newborn's cries pierced the air. Her pulse was barely perceptible on her thin wrists, and her face was drained of color.

The midwife looked down at the slippery, bloody, bawling infant cradled in her arms. a broad smile spread across her face. "

“It's a boy Sardani“she exclaimed, her voice filled with joy.

The midwife's announcement was met with a sombre declaration

The room was filled with joy and happiness as after a long and tense wait, a faint sound of a crying whimper finally emerged—The silence of the room was shattered by the piercing wails of the infant, the sound resembling a haunting melody that stirred deep emotions within the mother's heart.Amid the hushed murmur of a premonition, repeated over and over.

"Hail to the Sardani ! The future heir of Ranthambore has been born." The tone was more ominous than triumphant, hinting at the weight of destiny that rested on the newborn's shoulders.

As the first cries of the newborn prince echoed through the palace, a thunderous roar reverberated outside, as if the skies themselves were rejoicing at the arrival of the future king. The limitless expanse of the sky transformed into a kaleidoscope of white and blue, with lightning illuminating the air in a dazzling display of celestial fireworks. Rain droplets, like tears of joy from the heavens, gradually merged to form large droplets, which then burst forth in a rhythmic melody, drumming against the parched earth of Miamibhumi land. The downpour was as if nature itself was welcoming the heir of Ranthambore kingdom, bathing the land in a refreshing embrace, and reviving the spirits of all who dwelled within. With each raindrop, the heart of the kingdom beat stronger, as if infused with new life and hope. The rain's symphony resonated deep within the souls of all, echoing the promise of a brighter tomorrow, and the dawn of a new era under the wise and just rule of the prince.

The midwife commands a female attendant. “Go and bring hot water! And also some clean warm clothes, sheets, towels, everything. Milk the goat for the child if it will not take to its mother’s breast. Now!”

A maid came in with a silver vessel of warm water and some clothes. She dipped a few towels in the water and wiped the little body. It was too cold and bluish-grey; the umbilical cord was shrivelled.

The new mother was bleeding a little and the day attended to her, applying cold compresses and a crushed herb poultice till it stopped completely. Once she was out of danger, the dai and her attendants wasted no time in changing the sheets and divesting the mother of her birthing robes, which would be burnt along with the afterbirth. Others rubbed her with turmeric-infused water to stave off infection, before wiping it dry gently as her body was still raw and tender from her recent labours.

As Sushila immediately held out her arms and hugged the baby tight. Finally, after losing two, she was blessed with a child. Soon her ears would hear the word when those tiny teeth-mouths of her baby addressed her as mother . She glanced down at the wrinkled tiny folded pink cheeks, at her small pink lips, those tiny legs that had kicked inside her womb , at the cut end of the umbilical cord that had drawn nourishment from her body. Perhaps he would get the title of his father but the baby was her only . She took care of him while bearing this baby for the long duration of nine months.

She looked at her newborn baby after the midwife put the baby in between the breasts of the mother so the mother's skin could keep the baby warm. As Shushila gazed upon her son she knew that their lives would forever be intertwined.

She remembered to visit the temple every day and say the prescribed prayers.

In a moment of profound spiritual connection, Sushila pleased Lord Shiva through meditation, earning three precious wishes. With heartfelt devotion, she asked for a future heir to the throne of Ranthambore.

" Bear me a son, an heir worthy of the Vanraj Dynasty. May my son be the greatest of kings," she wished, "a mighty warrior, a fierce lion among men. May he be entitled to the king's share of success, prosperity, and happiness. May he be as kind to the poor as yet cruel to traitors as well? May his brilliance shine like a thousand suns, and may his name live forever."

She envisioned a flame burning bright in his soul, fueled by a lion's heart, destined to shine brightest at the pinnacle of glory, before succumbing to darkness and the depths of failure. With the divine tejas blessing him, her son's legend would be etched in eternity.”

As she ran her hand over the small tiny black hair of her infant “ She also believed while caring for this child of hers in her womb during pregnancy days . Her son, unlike her husband, is wise enough to realise that a daughter is the most precious gift on earth, an incarnation of Mahalakshmi, the goddess of prosperity”

Sushila didn't have the intimate happy domestic life which she used to dream about . She was 15 when she got married to Vikram Vanraj , King of Ranthambore . Her husband saw her only once after being informed that she was pregnant. He had found some time from whichever fanciful pursuit he was currently engaged in to visit her. As always they had precious little to

say to each other. She hardly saw him in a month. According to the woman of the Ranthambore, if your lord, and husband visit their wives 2-3 times in their room in a year it would be a blessing. Vikram met her only upon bodily needs. He never paid attention to her opinion regarding the courtroom matter. For him, good wives should always respect their husbands. Only listening, never asking questions .

But amidst the jubilation, a shadow lingered. The King's infidelity towards his first wife, Sushila's predecessor, had left a scar. His past transgressions now seemed like a distant memory, yet the weight of his deceit still lingered, a reminder that even the most powerful men can falter. The tiny prince's arrival marked a new era for Ranthambore, one filled with promise and uncertainty..

Finally, the most skilled physician of Ranthambore emerged and took the newborn outside, cradling a swaddled bundle in his arms, wrapped in a warm towel.

"A son, Sardar !" he declared, presenting the future heir to the Head chief of Rathmbore .

[MEMBERSONLY]

[NOCOPY]