||RiKara FF - Saving A Princess|| Chapter 4 Page 7 (4/11/18) - Page 2

Fantastic

Awesome continue soon

ohh interesting!!! can't wait to read more :)

Wow very nice. But please keep including Obros in this story.. .their moments are always to be cherished.

Really interesting.. Can't wait for om to meet the owner of the eyes which are haunting him in dreams..

Omkara's relation with his parents are complicated..
He wants some peace..
What will happen once he goes to that palace..??
Waited for thw next part..
It was beautiful..

Thank you for the love and response to the first chapter. Here is presenting to you the second chapter and RiKara's first meeting 😳

As always, do let me know how you like it!

Cheers,

Neet

Chapter 2

"Welcome, Mr. Oberoi. Welcome to Ratangarh and to our palace.

The man who greeted Om as soon as he stepped in to the palace was probably in his late fifties, a generous smattering of grey hairs on his beard and in his hair. But the exceptionally sharp features of his face reminded Om of a bird of prey an eagle? A hawk? Whatever it was, it contrasted sharply with the mental image Om had created of the Raja sahib. He had expected a pot-bellied old man with kind eyes who would recount tales of the lost years of glory. But this man was tall, lean and had a weird aura around him, that almost seemed sinister. Om wondered if he would be able to capture that in his portrait of the man. Tucking that thought into the back of his mind, Om folded his hands in a courteous namaste. Kaali Thakur smiled, but Om found even his smile sinister. Like somehow all his features were carved out to make him look evil. He shouldn't jump to any conclusions, Om mentally chided himself. He had only just met the man. After the customary exchange of pleasantries, Raja sahib directed his main man to take Om to his room so he could rest after the travel.

The artist in Om could not help but be absolutely thrilled by the palace. The walls were adorned with centuries old paintings and murals in vibrant earthy colors. The sculptures, the wood work, the dcor, everything was an artist's dream come true. He paused to admire every piece of art along his way and Brijesh, Raja sahib's main man, regaled Om with stories about the origin of each of the pieces. As they turned toward a hallway, Om realized the purpose of his visit. Lined along the walls of the hallway were portraits of every single king from the family, in all their regal, royal splendor. These were paintings dating back centuries and Om could not help but marvel at how life like the paintings looked. "Every king has his portrait painted by the most famous artist of their generation. You have the honor this time, Brijesh commented as he led the way.

Surprisingly, towards the end of the line, there were two portraits that stood out. Om paused to read the name of the first. Raja Bharmal Pratap Singh, he read the name on the plaque. Raja Bharmal Singh wore a common man's garb, not even the royal crown and his posture did not carry the aura of a king. His eyes did not reflect pride or honor. Rather, Om saw a certain melancholy in them, a reflection of deep regret, as if he had been made to realize his true position in life. Om stared at the painting for quite a while. For some reason, he was reminded of the story of King Ashoka, the king who had a moment of realization of all the mistakes he had committed in life and had turned to Buddhism. While the next portraits switched to depicting the kings in their grandeur, one other king had a similar portrait where he was depicted as a common man. "Why are these portraits different? Om asked Brijesh curiously. Brijesh waved his hand in a gesture indicating it didn't mean anything, "Some local folklore. It's a very long story. Maybe some other time. With that he turned on his heel, indicating the discussion was over and headed down another hallway. Om glanced back at the paintings once more before he followed Brijesh to his room.

**

Om was informed about the evening aarti by another manservant. He wasn't very devout or religious but he did not want to hurt the sentiments of his hosts. So he changed into a white kurta pyjama and headed towards the temple in the garden of the palace.

Even before he got anywhere close to the temple, he heard a mellifluous voice singing a prayer song. He had heard of love at first sight, of course, but listening to the voice, he felt as if he had fallen in love with the voice at the very first encounter. He was captivated by the voice as he walked toward the temple, weaving through the crowd of people and reached right behind the woman who was singing while performing the aarti. With the aarti done, the woman turned around, almost bumping into him in the process.

Those eyes! Those very same eyes that had haunted his dreams every night for the past year or so were now staring at him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Framed by thick lashes and lined with kohl, the sweep of her eyes was an artist's idea of perfection. Om felt as if he could recite poetry on just the arc of her eyebrows. A button nose, high cheekbones and lips that begged to be kissed and tasted completed her features in the incomplete canvas of his mind.

"Oberoi Sahab! I am glad you joined us for aarti, Kaali Thakur's voice broke into Om's thoughts and Om blinked a couple of times before directing his attention towards Kaali. "Thank you for inviting me. The pleasure is all mine, he managed to gather his thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence. But he couldn't help stealing another glance at the woman standing beside him. Kaali Thakur stepped in to perform the introductions, "Oberoi Sahab, this is my daughter, Gauri Kumari, the princess of Ratangarh. Then he turned to Gauri, "Gauri bitiya, this is Omkara Singh Oberoi, painter, sculptor and very deservingly, the most well renowned artist of our times. He is here to make a portrait of me and will be staying with us till his work is done. Now, offer the aarti to Oberoi Sahab. He is our guest aur mehmaan tho bhagvaan hotha hai. Iss liye aarti ka pehla haq bhi inko jaatha hai.

Omkara. For some reason, the name sounded exceptionally familiar to Gauri as she gazed at the man in front of her with curious eyes. Her first thought looking at him had been about her Shankarji. His long wavy hair, his muscular frame and above all, his eyes there was so much serenity and peace in those eyes and yet at the same time, she could sense the powerful rage that simmered just beneath. Just like her Shankarji. She offered him the aarti and as he circled his fingers over the flame of the diya, her gaze was drawn to the perfection of his hands. Long tapered fingers, that had molded and sculpted his visions into reality; that evoked passion in even the lifeless. Unbidden, an image of his fingers caressing her flashed in her vision and she caught her breath. Definitely not how a princess should behave, she mentally chided herself, even as color rose in her cheeks. "You sing beautifully, he said, his voice, low and husky as if they were lovers engaging in idle talk. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and shivers run down her skin. Not trusting herself to say anything, she simply smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgement of his compliment.

He was in a dilemma. He couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted to capture her perfection on canvas or mold her perfection into a sculpture. A sculpture wouldn't do justice to the liveliness of her features or the shade of pink her cheeks were and a painting would not capture the dips and hollows of her feminine curves. She had turned away to offer aarti to the rest and his gaze swept over her - the gentle sway of her hip as she walked, the delicate chime of her anklets that resonated right in his heart, the curve of her lips as she smiled at someone and the delicate twist of her wrist as she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Everything about her mesmerized him. He had always laughed at Rudy's claims of love at first sight, but now, he found himself falling more in love by the minute with this princess he had only just laid eyes on.

"Oberoi Sahab! Once again, Kaali Thakur's voice disrupted Om's train of thoughts. But he was glad it did. He was starting to feel like the more he looked at Gauri, he was getting caught in such a strong tide of emotions that he was going to be swept away completely, never to surface again. Om turned towards Kaali Thakur and smiled politely.

"I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Jahnvi Thakurain, Kaali said and a middle aged woman, dressed in a royal blue silk saree stepped forward and folded her hands in a namaste. Om returned the gesture before bending down to touch her feet. "What are you doing, Oberoi Sahab? Jahnvi asked surprised. "My mother's name is Jahnvi too. And there is nothing more powerful in this world than a mother's blessing, Om replied. "And please call me Om. Kaali's face broke out into a smile at that, "Of course, if that is what you wish.

Gauri had kept the jatadhari artist in her sights even as she mingled with the crowds. Her maid and best friend, Richa, slyly poked her, "Rajkumarisa, looks like your attention is focused on the new guest of the palace. Gauri faked a stern look but could not help the blush that crept up on her cheeks. "Kaho tho unse poochein ki wo aapki bhi tasveer bana dein? Richa continued. Gauri imagined being in close quarters with him as his intense gaze roved over her, taking in every single detail of hers, missing nothing. She imagined posing for him, only for his eyes, as he painted her. There was something so intimate about the act that she felt her heart stop. Her eyes met his across the lawn and for a moment it felt as if he was having those very same thoughts as her. And just like that the images got more vivid and she found it difficult to breathe. Excusing herself, she quickly made her way back to her room and fell onto her bed, clutching at the satin sheets trying to rid those images from her head.

This was so strange, to feel so intensely attracted to a person she had only just met. What was wrong with her? He wasn't the first man she was meeting. But something about him set her pulse racing and brought all these thoughts and images to mind. Had this been the old times, she would surely have been beheaded for having such thoughts about a stranger. But he did not feel like a stranger. "Om, his name left her lips in a sigh as she buried her face deeper into the duvet.

**

Im loving this! Can't wait to hear the folklore! and I love rikara's first meeting. Both are attracted to eachother ❤️..can not wait for more..update soon.

That was a splendid first meeting

I'm loving it!! Love at first sight. Thank god Kali is he father lol. I'm so excited to read more parts and see how the story will develop. Continue soon please :)