The Reception room of Akbar's Quarters..
While Bajrang waited at the entrance, Heera took her first steps into the reception room - her first steps into a new world that seemed to unleash more of a 6 year old's guarded curiosity within. As her eyes grew accustomed to the large yet poorly-lit surroundings, she decided to stroll around the room, hoping to get a better view of its unexplored interiors - after all, she was by herself with nothing else to do.
A short spell thus, and it became obvious that the reception chamber doubled up as a business office or possibly, a study.
'A study?' she wondered if she must call the room that..This room appeared less like a study - and more like a mishmash of three chambers in one.. 'Interesting'
Suddenly, she heard the faint voices of a few men from the corridors - voices that eventually emerged into clearer words of a boisterous discussion.
She heard the familiar baritone of his voice...
'This place is about 42 koss away... so, shouldn't take us long to reach there...not more than...'
Her eyes briefly glistened as she overheard the mathematical question that their conversation had given rise to. She stood quietly, waiting to hear what answer the businessman would come up with.
But she heard nothing.
Instead, what she saw was a silhouette darkening the patterns of the entranceway..
With his hands behind his back, he stationed himself by the door, his stature completely overshadowing Bajrang who was not far from him.
But the silence that succeeded didn't disappear till Heera spoke up 'A little more than 10 hours... actually, 10 and half hours to be precise' she gave him the answer to their problem.
'What?' his eyes narrowed..
'The time it would take you to travel 42 koss!'
Once Bajrang shifted to the corridors outside, she watched Akbar stepping into the large chamber - for an encounter that somehow didn't feel like it was only their 'second' one.
'Khan Sahib...' she wished him for the first time by the name that was actually his. Because, during the strange circumstances that they'd come face-to-face before - all he was to her, was a familiar voice and a gruff stranger who'd pulled her out of a canal.
Five days on, he was the owner of the place she was staying at - and a man she had some business with.
'Sahiba...' he wished her back, and for the first time by the title that was actually hers..
'Languages... medicine... and numbers too?' he frowned, a hint of sarcasm prevalent in his pitch 'That's quite a few areas you're skilled at...'
'But, you're not far behind yourself, Khan Sahib...' her gazes trailed around her own crossed palms 'That was quite some display that night, at the canal... I must say, I haven't seen anyone else possess such good aim!'
'Was that a compliment? Or another one of your underhanded investigations... like the one you've just sent your guard on, Sahiba?'
Taken aback, she glimpsed up. 'Yes I did... but, how did you find out?'
'I am a businessman in a competitive world... my travels take me through dangerous routes... my success has made me many enemies... If I have to stay alive and afloat, I must know how to defend myself... and be aware of who's tracking my men! But...why did YOU have me investigated?'
'I apologise for having offended your sentiments... but I had to be vigilant...' not surprisingly, it took a good amount of will and a deep breath to maintain her composure, before she could continue with the next sentence 'There have been threats to my life... in fact, m... my sister's life was brutally taken away... barely 10 days back...' at that point, she abruptly concluded her explanation - not wanting to reveal any further.
'Yes...' his voice dipped, as a sign of courtesy, and empathy 'Chacha jaan mentioned about your sister... I am sorry to hear that...'
A solemn beat passed, before he moved on to the next question 'By the way, what did you want to meet me for?'
Finding the shift of topic a welcome change, she replied 'Khan Sahib... I needed your permission... but, before that, I must thank you...'
'For?'
'For helping me out that night... and saving my life.'
'I had to fix the bridge... and you were in the way... that's all...' Akbar had scoffed in response, like she was a mere inconvenience to him then
'Anyway, I came by because I wanted your permission... I'd need to use a patch of your garden... to plant a few herbs of mine... before they die out.'
'Of my garden?'
'And if you let me know where I can plant them... I'll bear in mind to stick to the boundaries...' a formal pause followed 'So, I don't inconvenience you, by coming in your way!' she ended her request calmly..with not a trace of annoyance in her voice - making it difficult for anyone to figure out if there was a 'wry remark' hidden in that request at all.
However, he knew what she was doing.
The heiress had returned his 'You were in the way' comment with a subtle retort - but in a manner very few could have done so. Her approach was civil enough so the reply wouldn't be counted an insult, and yet her words were clear enough to remind him that she was capable of being blunt too.
Raising a brow, Akbar sternly looked up to dart her a glance, before turning aside. As a man who'd never let his grit be swayed by beauty or charms - as a man who didn't want to be fascinated by her finesse, this was a juncture where he found himself failing in front of Harka Bai's perfection. Yet again!
However, he had his own strengths too - a strong ego and an iron will, to be precise.
So, when Akbar subsequently looked up at her - at those hauntingly beautiful eyes hiding behind her drape - there was no trace of delicacy in his glance..
'It should be fine...' he finally gave her his permission, tying his hands behind his back again 'You can use the gardens...'
'Thank you...' she nodded. And then, turned to leave - the music of anklets softly following her trail towards the doorway.
However, just as he heard the last echoes of those anklets, the businessman called out to her 'If I may ask, how do you manage all this...'
Heera slowly stopped in her tracks.
'Despite being partially sighted?' he concluded his question.
As she stood in her spot, she gauged the attitude - it didn't sound sarcastic. Or even suspicious. It sounded inquisitive.
Was Khan Sahib actually asking her a straightforward question? Initiating a conversation? It was difficult to believe, since she didn't think he was much of a conversationalist.
And, she wasn't wrong - he was an introvert, through and through.
But he made an exception this time, because what he'd asked was a burning question - something that had been on his mind ever since he'd learnt of her disability that night.
And because the possibility of any further personal meetings between the two was next to none, his inquiring instincts came to the unexpected decision that it wanted to seek an answer now.
'What do you want to know, Khan Sahib?' the heiress quipped, before spinning around to observe the man, making sure there was no wrong intent behind his query 'Well, most days, are good... and I can use my sight to get by... on those days that are bad, I use my senses to get by...'
'Was this...' he added 'Was this how it always was?' his tone that'd started off in its typically assertive manner, had subsided into a tone that was slightly more courteous..
Heera could almost feel a calm smile coming onto her lips as she noticed how he was trying to be sensitive to her problem 'No this wasn't how I was born... a childhood accident caused it.' she answered - the mention of which, brought back fleeting memories of the incident from many years ago
A fateful incident that had changed the life of both siblings forever.
During a game of a pony race, jiji's competitive nature had taken over - and she had veered her pony into Heera's pathway to gain an edge.
Little had the older sister known that her action would cause the other pony to panic so terribly. For, the force with which the startled animal had jolted aside thereafter, resulted in it stumbling down a steep drop, dragging an unconscious Heera down along with it.
Durga's impulsive action had snatched away their carefree days from both. Not only did the younger sibling lose part of her sight after the accident - the older one lost her childhood too, as she transformed from a sister to a protective mother overnight, compensating for a guilt that she never really got over.
Akbar wouldn't deny, her tale was an impressive one - as a child, she'd come to terms with a disability and learnt to adapt to it with a positive attitude too.
However, what he hadn't admitted yet, was that hers was the most inspiring life story he'd heard so far. In his travels over the years, he'd had opportunities to meet exceptional ladies - poetesses, musicians, painters, politicians and scholars - but, fact remained that none of their talents could hold a candle to the unique accomplishments of this young lady...
'Shubh ratri...' she replaced it with a farewell in her own mother-tongue 'Padharjo sa...' after all, they had been conversing in his language for so long
However, he didn't respond with the customary 'Khuda Hafiz'.
Instead, he turned his back to her - taking nonchalant strides towards the rear window thereafter.
So, she resumed her unwavering steps, crossing the threshold at the doorway with her head held high.
'Jaroor, baisa... shubh ratri!' the businessman's grim reply had come a moment thereafter, bringing her pace to a brief standstill.
Heera said nothing. But the linguist in her was caught off-guard by his fluency. In fact, he'd uttered those words in such a thick-and-proud native Marwari accent that it sounded as though a Rajput was wishing her from the chamber, and not a Mughal!
There were a couple of points that she couldn't quite comprehend. For instance, why did a stranger who'd barely uttered two words at the canal, told her his personal opinion about helping abandoned children now? Why had a man who refused to believe her words a few nights ago, suddenly grown so intrigued by her disability? And how had he figured out that he was being investigated, despite Bajrang being quite efficient at his job?
Aidabad...
Seeking quick respite from the strain, Heera lifted her shoulders up and stroked the stiff stretches of her neck. Arching atop a low table for so long, poring over scroll after scroll through the small rim of her reading stone had taken its toll.
She would begin writing a message. And then discard it as being unsatisfactory. Write again. Then, discard it again. Write another. Discard that one as well. Write a bit more. Only to reject it too.
For hours had this exercise gone on - so she could polish her message. So she could design the perfect 'draft' to send out.
The truth was that she could not afford any distractions at this point, which is why she chose to do the task by herself. After all, this inexperienced player was carrying out the riskiest venture of her life - entering a massive battlefield with only one weapon. A weapon that if used correctly, could secure the future of Parnagarh. But if any errors were committed, it would devastate the lives of many.
If she wanted her community to sit up and take her seriously, every sentence and clause in these letters had to be effectively persuasive. However while doing so, Heera also had to be certain that the Shehzade and the Shehenshah were not blamed in any way, or the aftermath would be catastrophic - especially if the letters fell into the wrong hands. If caught writing anything disrespectful against the Empire, she would be accused of treason and suffer the fate of a common traitor - a horrifying death in a public execution.
Therefore, getting the right balance in this delicate affair was both - complicated and critical.
'All right...' once she'd made her final amendments, Heera dropped the soft quill back into its ink pot. Picking up the scroll, the determined heiress then went through its contents for one last time 'I think this one reads fine...' her tired eyes slowly glimpsed around 'But first... I need to check if my letter is effective enough! How do I...'
In a short while, an idea dawned upon her.
Dismissing the maids from the chamber, she called out the names of four guards. Four particular guards, who formed the toughest men amongst her troops.
No sooner than they arrived at the chamber, she had them stationed near the entrance - from where she would be able to observe them.
'Please ensure no one enters...' she ordered 'till I have finished my work.'
The men did as told. Of course, they weren't aware that this arrangement was part of her 'test' - for it was their reactions and expressions hereafter that would decide if her message was moving enough.
With quivering fingers, she picked up the scroll. Her voice cracked even before she could start the first line - but, she had to motivate herself to stay strong with a bout of tough self-talk. The leader of a clan could not afford to fall to pieces at so critical a juncture.
'This humble message comes to you...' Heera began reading its contents aloud 'from Parnagarh, the land of valleys...'
Following a brief introduction on the place and its people, the message went on to depict how its illustrious 17 year old leader, Durga Bai, had strived long and hard to keep the villages safe. And after portraying her exceptional deeds at great length, it went on to portray in just as much detail how the lady had met her sad end too.
As visualised by Heera; the brave and final fight of the lone warrior was described using the choicest of adjectives. The cruel manner in which Khalil and his men had snatched everything from her wounded body was replayed in the most hard-hitting words. Each tragic turn was so well-written, each painful moment painted in such soul-stirring fashion - that the readers would be compelled to feel precisely how Durga Bai must have felt during her last moments.
And when the haunting calamity would still be lingering in front of the readers' eyes, the letter was abruptly concluded - with an appeal
'Please stand by me... please show your support for a great warrior like Durga Bai, by helping me bring the criminals to justice... please speak up for Parnagarh in court!'
Her lips still shivering from the after effects of having read that disturbing message aloud, Heera finally glanced up, hesitant and uncertain.
The guards continued to stand like stone, watching over the entrance as they'd been instructed to. However, their faces were a picture of profound anguish. Their misty stares, an obvious reflection of how grief-stricken they were after having overheard the letter.
Setting the scroll down, the 16 year old let the tears flow at long last. She'd crossed the first big hurdle in this dangerous journey.
'Your mind is a weapon stronger than my sword!'
She recalled her sister's words. Had she just proved that prophecy true? For; if her inspiring words could overwhelm her guards who'd already been steeled by the tragedy, it would definitely affect everyone else - old or young, man or woman.
Mentally apologising to her troops for having subjected them to this, she went on to brace her spirits and tackle the next hurdle 'We can start writing the letters from tomorrow morning, kakasa... don't you think?'
'Yes...' wiping his tears, the accountant nervously nodded in agreement. No doubt, kaka was far more terrified by this entire plan than she was, but he could not afford to let his fears show - lest it eroded her confidence. After all, it was from their leader's confidence that the rest of the group derived strength and hope.
So, he set out to reassure her with renewed enthusiasm 'I am certain that the powerful letter you've written will succeed, bitiya... we will get justice!'
'Thank you kakasa...' she let slip a sad smile for his sake, well aware of what the man was trying to do 'I would like to send the first one to the Rana of Manswar... jijasa's father...'
'Yes bitiya...'
'Please instruct our messengers very thoroughly... they cannot speak to anyone, cannot trust a single person... and cannot stop anywhere till these scrolls reach their intended destination!'
'The messengers will guard these scrolls with their lives, bitiya! Worry not...'
[Journey continues]
Kabhi Neem Neem Kabhi Shahad Shahad
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