Last Part..
The Maharaja came in quietly and hugged her from behind.
"Don't stop..Mohini", he whispered loving the sound of her voice, which sounded ethereal as it pierced the silence of the night.
When the song ended, he kissed the crook of her neck and rested his face against the softness. Suddenly breathless, she stopped even as a nightingale's song penetrated the stillness of the night.
Tightening his hold on her, he said smiling, "Did you hear that Mohi? That Nightingale sounds jealous of you".
Mohini's heart was however heavy today and her smile halfhearted.
He turned her around, he hugged her close, instinctively understanding the reason for her sadness.
Mohini hugged him back tightly, trying to fight back a rising wave of strange, inexplicable fear because she did not want to trouble him just as he was about to leave on a long journey.
To cheer her up, he said, "Just two moons, Mohini and when I return, you will be mine forever".
He was alluding to their wedding.
Mohini looked up at him, "I am already yours... forever".
"Forever...", he repeated smiling even as a breeze carried that word away causing it to silently resonate through the ravines for eons to come.
After a night of lovemaking, Mohini lay with his head nestled against her bosom and listened to the sound of his even breathing filling the darkened room. The thought of their impending separation caused her heart, immune to all reason or logic, to pound relentlessly. The words of the song, she had sung earlier resonated ceaselessly in her mind as Mohini spent a sleepless night gazing out the window, dreading the imminent arrival of dawn.
"Do not go, my love, without asking
my leave.
I have watched all night, and now
my eyes are heavy with sleep.
I fear lest I lose you when I'm
sleeping.
Do not go, my love, without asking
my leave"
Several dawns came and went.
The Maharaja of Rewar had been in Delhi for several taxing, frustrating days, being dictated to by the British, on matters concerning his own ancestral land, his own people, with each moment a assault to his pride and every word a painful reminder of his helplessness, the painful situation, he was trapped in.
Finally the day came, when he and his procession started their journey back to Mewar..
The journey from Delhi to Rewar was tedious, exhausting and back breaking and for the young King, it had seemed even longer, given his intense yearning and impatience to be home again.
In Moti Mahal, with his Mohini.
He arrived at Rewar just after night fall and when he entered the Palace, the oil lamps were being lit the sound of the evening aarti coming from his mother's chambers.
Impatient to see Mohini, he cursorily dismissed his guards and the group of high ranking ministers, who were eager to brief him regarding the affairs of the state.
Nodding at the guards standing on either side of the carved silver doors of Moti Mahal, subtly glittering in lamp light, he entered with his heart pounding with the thrill of sweet anticipation.
Swiftly, he crossed the pristine white courtyard, resplendent with it's carved marble columns, ornately frescoed high ceiling and a pool riddled with dappled moonlight, streaming through a series of lattices on one side of it.
Opening the sandal wood door to the bed chamber, he went inside with his eager footsteps echoing off of the domed ceiling. It was unexpectedly dark and desolate and he slowed down in surprise, ignoring a faint sense of unease, rearing it's head at the back of his mind.
"Mohini", he called, stepping onto the terrace, unable to thwart his heart from beating in a sudden, painful manner.
All he got in reply was the melancholic note of a Nightingale's song as it ascended to the moonlit sky, leaving the earth veiled in darkness and silence..
The Maharaja was holding a gift, he had brought for her from Delhi, in his hand. A large gold pendant of exquisite craftsmanship, studded with multicolored precious stones and shaped like a peacock feather. He had especially chosen it because he hadn't failed to notice Mohini's childlike fascination with the brilliant iridescence of peacock feathers.
Moihini was meanwhile in Bhopal with her mistress hovering over her, a worried frown fixed on her forehead. Ever since Khushi had come back from Rewar or rather, had been sent back by the Rajmata, she wouldn't stop crying. Her eyes puffy and huge in a pale, forlorn face, she turned her head away from the plate of food that she offered her.
The long, strenuous journey from Rewar had taken a toll on her and she winced in pain as another poweful cramp started in her lower abdomen...
Later that day, her mistress summoned a physician and when the physician informed her that her young ward was expecting a child, she reached the painful, yet erroneous conclusion that that's why she had been sent back. Such was the custom in those days, with many illegitimate children, carrying royal blood in their veins, being born in such houses.
She thought that perhaps it was for the best when the physician said that she was most likely going to lose the child..
But after a few days, her cramps stopped and pressing her hand on her belly, Mohini became a little hopeful about her child's fate. With her hazel eyes glazed and unseeing, she stared outside the window at a tall Palash tree aglow with orange blossoms, the Rajmata's words echoing in her distraught mind.
"Do you want him to be the laughing stock of the whole nation and do you think that Rewar will accept the son of a courtesan as the next Maharaja? The Maharaja of Mysore, whom Rewar has such crucial, strategic alliances with, will be so insulted by his refusal that most likely, he and his allies will break off all ties with Rewar, all because of your selfish dream of becoming the Maharani".
When Mohini protested that she had never had any such dream, the Rajmata continued, "I have no objection to your staying in the Palace after he is married, but right now, I have to think of Rewar and it's people".
Through tear filled eyes, she watched as the orange blossoms drifted slowly the ground with every gust of wind. His words came rushing to her, "You ...Mohini can give Rewar it's heir".
However it was not meant to be and she lost her child on the tenth night, following which after she bled non stop, growing paler and weaker with blood loss.
That night, through the haze of her misery, she half heard a sudden commotion downstairs.
The door was burst open by a young girl frantic with excitement, "Mohini, Your Highness is here..", she managed to say excitedly before rushing out again in fear, hearing impatient footsteps resounding on the stairs.
With her heart pounding and all color draining from her already pale face, she got off of the bed with great difficulty and stood up in anticipation, ignoring the ominous buzzing in her ears.
The door was flung open angrily and the Maharaja came inside, his handsome features marred by intense anger.
Walking up to her in a few quick steps, he pulled her against him, roughly and pulling her hair back, none so gently, he made her look at him.
"How dare you?, he said through his teeth clenched.
"How dare you come here without asking me?
"Answer me! , he shouted as Mohini remained quiet, her lips trembling with fear.
"For the ppeople of Rewar", she stammered...
The Maharaja frowned, "What do you mean?."
Sobbing, she blurted out the whole truth which was diametrically opposite to his mother's version. His shrewd eyes didn't miss the look of immense fear, which immediately suffused her eyes after she had inadvertently revealed the whole truth to him. Connecting the dots, he understood, a furious storm raging in his icy caramel eyes.
The storm halted as his eyes focussed on her worried, fearful eyes encircled with shadows. With his expression softening with tenderness, he hugged her close to him.
"Have you any idea, how worried I was about you?
"I missed you, Mohi, never do this again", he said, his voice thick with emotion, even as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
As Mohini cried silently, he stroked her back, his gentle fingers pausing as they felt her ribs.
He raised her head concernedly, "You are not well ...Mohi.?."
She looked up at him then, the sadness in her eyes making him catch his breath.
"Our child. I lost him"
She was engulfed in a bone crushing, comforting hug.
"It's alright, Mohi. I'm sure we'll be blessed with more", he comforted her, ignoring his own heartache at the news.
Rightly famous for his stubbornness and with his wrath and fury directed at his mother clouding his judgement, the Maharaja got his marriage arranged for that very night, much to the shocked amazement of the people, who witnessed this extraordinary event.
Going through the motions of the wedding rituals with a grim, unsmiling, pensive face, his eyes softened only when he lightly smeared Mohini's forehead with vermillion.
That very night, the Maharaja's royal procession started it's journey to Rewar, this time with his newly wedded bride in a palanquin. Next day, Mohini was not feeling well.
It was a long, tiring journey from Bhopal, and her fragile body had stiffened from sitting in the palanquin for hours. As the procession cut across the open, dusty plain of central India, the stifling heat of the afternoon sun beat mercilessly on them.
The Maharaja, astride his white stallion, rode next to the palanquin, opening the heavy, richly embroidered curtain from time to time to talk to Mohini in a voice laced with concern. And everytime, Mohini summoned all her waning strength to reassure him, she was fine.
For Mohini, the rest of day was a blur of sounds, faces and events as they reached the palace amidst a silent explosion of shock, surprise, jealousy and heartburn. Being readied for her bridal bed, she struggled in vain to rid her mind and body of it's exhaustion.
Soon it was evening and the Palace was resonating with the soul rending notes of Raga Malhar, the raga that is famed to be powerful enough to coax rain to fall from the skies...
She could smell the jasmines and the frangipanis as she sat on the bridal bed waiting for Arnav. Her Arnav.
She was feeling just a little better and as she wetted her dry lips with the tip of her tongue she noticed a new face, who was helping Radha today, watch her with a strange gleam in her eyes. She extended a silver tumbler filled with fresh cold milk to her.
"Drink this, Your Highness. This will give you some strength".
As she drank the milk thirstily, Radha and the new maid took their leave with Radha looking back at her, her eyes filled with concern.
That was the last time she saw Radha...
She was too tired to get up when Arnav entered the room.
One brief look at her face told his panicked, racing heart that something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Mohini", he had cried looking at her ashen face. In a flash, he was next to her, supporting her limp body in his arms.
"Mohi...love...are you alright?
She had opened her eyes with difficulty to look at him. She looked at his uncharacteristically desperate, strained face and as she watched his caramel eyes flickering with worry and fear, she felt a wave of unfathomable sadness wash over her.
"He needs me. Oh, how he needs me!
She knew at that point that her time was over and rather than worry about her own impending death, she was worried about him. Her Arnav.
There was no one who understood him, no one who could reach his impenetrable, lonely heart, no one who could bring happiness to him except her...
"Mohini could never be his Khushi, after-all", she thought, even as the shadowy, ghostly fingers of death gathered around her.
Cupping his face with icy cold fingers, she called him Arnav for the first time, "Arnav, remember death is not the end".
"Don't talk about death, Mohi. There is nothing wrong with you, you are just exhausted after the long trip", he said angrily, unable to hide the rapidly mushrooming desperation in his voice.
Laying her head down gently on the pillow, he rushed outside to order the guards to summon the royal physician as soon as possible.
Then he rushed to her bedside once again and gathering her in his arms, held her close against him and said, "Mohi...you can't do this to me".
She opened her eyes and summoned the remaining strength from every fiber of her being to say, "Arnav, remember this is not the end. What if we could not be one in this world? Another world..another time...we will find each other...I know..".
On that note of certainty, she died quietly in his arms, leaving Arnav to stare at her innocent face, which looked strangely at peace, in stunned disbelief. Initially he refused to believe that fate could be so cruel to him. That it could dare to be so cruel to him.
"Mohi! Open your eyes", he commanded.
"Open your eyes, I said", he bit out with almost maniacal fury, shaking her roughly.
As realization slowly seeped through him, it transformed in it's wake, a proud Maharaja into a young, helpless husband, beside himself with bereavement. His heart rending sobs and soul piercing cries resonated in Moti Mahal, rising much above the notes of Raga Malhar and the air around him shuddered uncontrollably with intense, pure, unadulterated grief.
It was the day after Mohini's funeral and Maharaja's Arnav Singh's puffy and bloodshot eyes held an almost maniacal fury in them as he sat in the ornate throne of his court and held a silver tumbler containing milk in his hand.
As two soldiers dragged a terrified looking young girl and brought her close to him at his behest, he extended his arm bringing the tumbler close to her lips..
"Drink it.", he commanded, his eyes flashing dangerously. His voice was soft, but held such intimidating menace in it that the girl broke down completely and fell at his feet sobbing hysterically and begging for mercy.
It didn't take long for her to confirm what the Maharaja had suspected all along.
There was a hush in the court as the shocking truth was revealed, however the Maharaja didn't look surprised at all...
With his jaws clenched and his eyes smoldering with all consuming rage and grief, he ordered his soldiers to summon his mother to the court. When the soldiers hesitated for a moment looking uncomfortable, he repeated his order sharply, raising his voice.
The Rajmata came holding her head high and looked at her son straight in the eye, without a hint of remorse in her demeanor.
As the son and the mother glared at each other, the tension in the court was so palpable, so thick that it could be cut with a knife.
His voice thick with suppressed fury, he asked her if she had to say anything in her defense.
"All I have to say is that whatever I did was in the best interest of Rewar...in the best interest of it's people..".
Her gaze was unwavering.
The Maharaja's knuckles whitened as he clenched the arm rests of his throne tightly.
"Who gave you the right to decide what is best for Rewar? In what capacity?
"I'm your mother".
"That does not give you the right to make decisions based on what you presume is best for the people of Rewar and especially commit murder based on your false presumptions", he said quietly, a shadow of intense pain darkening his eyes momentarily.
He got up abruptly, his eyes flashing down in the eyes of his mother.
"You know very well that the punishment for murdering an innocent person in my land is death.."
There were cries for mercy from the people in the court watching the proceedings in dead silence.
His caramel eyes flickered momentarily, reflecting his inner conflict, but then, they steeled over and he continued in an imperious, authoritative tone.
"As a son, perhaps I can think of forgiving you, but as the ruler of this land, I hereby announce that indeed, death is a befitting punishment for some one who commits the reprehensible act of murdering an innocent soul. In my opinion, such people, whoever they may be, are not deserving of any mercy. Let this be an example to the people of Rewar and deter them from taking innocent lives for petty reasons".
Later that night in his chamber, he was restless, unable to sleep. As soon as he closed his eyes, Mohini's voice would reach him, silently, from another world and make him sit up with a start. In his sleep deprived, tortured state, he thought he could hear her sweet, ethereal voice coming from Moti Mahal. Out of their own volition, his feet, once again, took him towards Moti Mahal. Towards her voice.
Mann Mohana (O enchanter of heart)
Mann Mohana
Tum bin paun kaise chain (How do I find peace without you?)
Tarsu tumhi ko din rain ( I crave for you day and night)
Ek pal ujiyara aaye ( One moment there is brightness)
Ek pal andhiyara chaye ( Next moment, there is darkness)
Mann kyun na ghabraye ( Why won't the heart be restless)
Kaise na ghabraye. ( How the heart won't be restless)
Mann jo koi doraha ( When the mind is on the crossroads)
Apni rahon mein paaye ( That it finds on it's way)
Kaun disha jaye ( Which direction should it take)
Tum bin kaun samjhaye ( Without you, who can make me understand?)
Tum bin kaun samjhaye ( Without you, who can make me understand?)
With slightly trembling fingers, he opened the silver doors to make what he knew would be his last visit to Moti Mahal. He had already ordered it to be locked away.
It was quiet as a sepulcher and the smell of stale flowers hit him as he entered their bedroom. Wilted garlands of jasmine and frangipani still hung over their bed. With his heart desolate and his eyes dry and burning after having run out of all tears, he stepped out to the terrace and putting his hands on the parapet, stared at the stars.
Suddenly, the enormity of his loss struck him again and his heart and soul were stricken by a devastating pain that wracked his whole body.
"Mohini...!", he shouted to the bleak, dark landscape...
"You have to come back to me. I know you are there somewhere. YOU have to come to me again, do you hear me?! This is not the end...this can't be the end of our story...Mohi...it can't be".
"Mohi...Mohi...". His cries echoed in the dark valley ...ceaselessly...tirelessly...even as innumerable suns rose from one end of it and set at the other.
Epilogue: same time tomorrow...
I won't ask if you guys liked it, this time..:) But, please share your thoughts, views, suggestions, inputs with me...it makes me think and ponder and improve...
Love,
Jenny..:)
Edited by IPK007 - 11 years ago
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