I'm sorry that I wasn't here for a long time. Some things did unexpectedly happen and I could not log into the Forum. But everything's fine now, though I won't be able to come on the Forum for four or five weeks. So to keep you busy, here are a few updates for now. I might try and update any coming weekend but I am not making any promises. Regarding these chapters, you can read them separately and comment separately or read them all at once. But I suggest that you take time to savour the chapters for there may be things you need to remember in here before I let the big things happen.
Serialmaniac: Very flattering, dear Preetianjita, that you stalked but so sorry I was not there to notice your watchful shadow on the 40th page...
Serialaddict: Its such a surprise seeing you here, dear! So glad to have you here to share in our love for ArHi. Welcome to Arhasia, Deefa, and since you wrote Jonashi twice, I shall not confuse my head further and add that name as your signature on the parchment!
Shweta: So sorry I was late to see your comment. You are always so busy that I do not know whether to expect you or just wait with the thought that you will show up and not get too worked up about your absence on my thread. Twin big sisters do matter to me!!
Golden Dargon: Hi dear! How is your project so far? And yes, we do differ in our tastes of surprises *chuckle* but so glad you didn't stop yourself from signing on the parchment though it does sound awkward! Well, hmmm, isn't awkwardness and silliness the Kushi-way of dealing with the serious drag of existence?
Oh and to all the others: Abi has a "heart" next to her name because she signed on the parchment with it and insisted that her name should be joined with its "cuteness"! Thanks so much, every one, for your from-the-heart comments. They always justify the life I try to give my story...
P. S. If there are some of you wondering why your name is not on the parchment, its probably because you didn't notice the request for making a pledge in the previous update...in case you're interested, its on Page 34. Pledges can be made anytime...as soon as you sign, you're name will be entered on the parchment...
And here we are in the inn, beside the fireplace. If one of you would order a cup of coffee/milk/tea for each of us, we could sip them and begin with the unraveling of the rest of the tale...
Chapter Twenty Four: The Aunt
Payal walked into the kitchen where her mother was preparing a grand lunch, "Amma, have you seen Kushi?"
"No," said her mother looking up from the furnace, "Wasn't she helping you with the packing?"
"She had been," said Payal, "She had gone to collect the dry clothes that had been laid out in the field but she is still not back yet. It's been almost an hour."
Her mother exhaled through her nose as she returned to her work with a frown on her face, "That girl must have gone wandering again then." Payal had thought so too and was moving to the door when her mother called out, without turning to look at her, "You don't go and search for her, Payalia. She knows her way. She will come when she knows she has to."
That was all that was said and Payal had no intentions to fuel her mother's anger any further. Amma was still seething over last night's incident though the girls had revealed the truth to their parents and after giving Kushi the cold shoulder the entire day, and giving her orders via Payal, the elder sister made sure to not get in her mother's bad books on their last day's stay at this place. Not that they won't return. Ofcourse they would, once everyone forgot the Festival mess.
Payal stood at the window near the backdoor and stared into the open firelds. There was no sign of any clothes laid to dry there so Kushi might have picked them up. But where was the picker?
The picker was there alright, lost amidst the tall golden grass, the clothes hanging by her arm. They were just her and Payal's gown from last night and on seeing her gown, she had been moved to remember the events of last night. However, her mind was not defeated by the memories for the late night exertion at the mill had left her better off than she would have been on that aftermath morning. But she still was saddened by the thought that she had brought about so much distress to her family solely because of her wanton wish to see the roses. Knowing it was her last day for a while in this place, she had come out to the fields, picked up the clothes and stopped to stare at the morning sun. The clouds, lightly dim from last night's storm, covered the burning ball and this film of vapour permitted her to stare at the sun unblinking. She sighed and was about to walk back home when a sudden gust of wind blew and the gowns, held loosely over her arm, slipped down and was carried off by the wind. Gasping, Kushi ran after it and as soon as the wind died down, the panting girl found the gowns lying on the ground in a clearing. She bend low and picked them up and just then realized that it was the place where Payal had hurt her ankle in their play and Babuji had come to comfort them. Kushi knelt on the ground and ran her fingers over the soft cold mud, wet from last night's rain.
"I'm sorry," she whispered and a tear would even have formed in her eye if she hadn't been roused by the sound of a fast approaching carriage. She stood up, the gowns pressed to her waist with one hand, and with the other hand she lifted her skirt and raced along the fields heading for home. She had only crossed half the distance when the wheels stopped close by and she looked aside to see that it had stopped beside where she was running past. It was a roofless cart and its wood was in great need of polishing.
"Hai re, Nandekishore!" called out a familiar voice from the bench, the holder of the reins of the two horses, "Kushibitiya? What are doing running early morning through the fields? Are you out of your mind?"
Kushi smiled sheepishly up at her voluminous aunt, and noticing that her aunt was frowning at her from head to toe, the young girl hastily flattened her windswept hair and straightened the probable creases on her gown.
"You get on this, girl," said her aunt, nodding to the place next to her and Kushi shook her head, "I prefer walking, Buaji."
"Nonsense," said her aunt, "Not when I stand here with my carriage! Stop stalling and get in right this minute!"
Without a moment's reluctance, Kushi had leapt onto the carriage and squeezed herself next to her aunt. When her aunt set the two horses to commence the journey, they raced the remaining distance as if the carriage was on fire, and poor Kushi had to hold onto the back of the wooden seat to save herself from falling off. The clothes in her arm kept flapping against her face and blocking her visions and she had to look away to keep the frills on the clothes from hurting her eyes.
It was regarded a blessing when the horses halted the carriage suddenly, and Kushi almost tumbled forward into the space between the animals but her aunt caught her with a light grip of a single burly hand.
"You have not changed a bit," said her aunt, when Kushi had sat back, and caught her breath, "Always slipping and falling and getting into things you should stay clear off! Indeed, I named you right! From the day I met you, I knew you were the incarnated Goddess of Mischief!"
Kushi was too shaken by the ride to even offer a smile at this address. They had apparently reached home for the horses to stop there and she got down of the carriage, stumbling on the hem of her gown again, but not falling for Bauji had caught her again, "Watch your step, girl. I will not be there always to catch you!"
Kushi's head still reeled from the ride and she still couldn't see things straight. So she was naturally wobbling towards the door behind her aunt.
It was Payal who opened the door. She had heard the sound of the carriage stopping before the cottage and, after announcing this to her mother, had come to attend the visitor. Opening the door her eyes fell on the familiar face of her aunt: the wide smile that seemed to be pasted there by birth to scare any beholders, the observing twinkle in her eye with which she noticed everything that needed and did not need notice, as well as the perpetual wig that gloried her head. She was dressed in a grey gown with black beadworks as if she wanted to mourn but could not quite make her mind if she really wanted to, and her huge figure filled the doorway, her shadow falling on the girl before her.
"Payalbitiya!" called out her aunt with magnanimous amiability and before Payal could save herself, her aunt's heavy hands had their fingers pinching and pulling at Payal's tender cheeks. Payal's eyes filled with tears of pain at being rattled so, and her aunt released her saying, "Oh, seeing me after a long time has made you cry, my Payalia? You are such a blessed niece!" And then to Payal's greater dismay, her aunt expressed her affection at seeing the wrongly interpreted tears, with a crushing embrace in which Payal was certain she had just been squeezed of her last breath.
It was God-sent to hear her mother's voice behind her for Buaji released her and went after the welcoming mother, and as Payal leaned at the doorway trying to blow air into her flattened lungs, she caught sight of Kushi standing at the doorstep, looking as if she'd seen a ghost. Her hair was sticking out all over her head like a peacock's tail, and Payal frowned at this display, "What happened to you?"
Kushi's glassy gaze cleared and she looked at Payal, whose eyes were still wet and her hand on her chest, "Just what happened to you: Buaji's welcome."
The two girls stared at each other and then broke into laughter. Though they were about to leave their parents, they were looking forward to the promise of much fun and madness with a few days stay with Buaji. And it was good that they had one another to share the insanity of the future with.
Chapter Twenty Five: Riding and Reflections
Pebbles that had been basking silently under the sun trembled as the sound of horse hoofs thundering over the vast grasslands echoed over the land. Racing neck to neck, the white horse and the black horse carried their masters against the wind created by their equestrian speed.
The man on the white cast a glance to his left. The one of the black was leaning forward, almost lying flattened on his horse, his eyes focused on the path and frowning at the wind rushing past him. Sensing that he was being watched, he looked to his right without turning his head. Just a pointed look from the corner of his eye. And then he slowed his horse down and straightened up, and watching him, the other one pulled the reins of his white horse to a halt.
Lord Arnav led his black carrier to overtake the white horse and both horses came to a stop with their riders gazing at each other.
"Why did we stop, Master Menace?" asked the General, steadying his horse.
"You told Di about the play, didn't you?" said Lord Arnav, expressionless as he sat on his dark horse.
The General shrugged casually, "The play reminded me so much of you two: a brother bonded with his sister as if she were his life source, and strangely they did mention the Raizada name too. I assumed my Lady Queen would love to hear something that seemed to mirror her own precious existence."
"You shouldn't have," said Lord Anrav, looking away.
"Why? It was simply a fictional play held in the village and nothing more. Wasn't it?"
Lord Anrav said nothing but held his reins, "Are you ready for another ride?"
"As ever," said his companion, and they reared their horses and were soon riding along the land.
"When are you returning back?" asked Lord Arnav, over the wind.
"Six days time," said General Jha, "I have an assignment in the East."
"And when can we expect you next?"
"That depends on how the assignment ends."
"Di misses you a lot."
"So do I, Master Menace, but I can't neglect the responsibilities of my regiment."
Lord Arnav said nothing and they rode on for some more time. A grassy hill loomed before them and both men looked at each other and nodded. They directed their horses to accelerate and the four pairs of hoofs trudged at immense speed towards the hill, and were soon racing up the slope of the green mound.
The horses grunted and kicked wet dirt as they tore over the hill and finally came to a stand still at the top of the hill. The men watched the afternoon sky that was still dim with last night's storm clouds, while their horses panted and tried to revive their steady breathing.
"What a beautiful land this is," commented the General, his eyes scanning the green lands and the tree tops.
"What is beautiful does not last," said Lord Arnav disinterestedly, patting the mane of his horse.
The General looked at the younger man, "There is more to beauty than meets the eye."
Lord Arnav shot him a debating look, "If what we see cannot last, how can something that we cannot see be expected to last?" A dark memory of his past flashed through his mind and he closed his eyes.
The General didn't see this, for he had turned his gaze back to the land before him, "It is the unseen and the unfelt that last...What is seen attains immortality when it becomes unseen."
Lord Arnav opened his eyes and stared at the General, but seeing that the other man was oblivious to his gaze, he looked away. He looked into the sky and pondered over what the General had said. What is unseen is immortal...?
The slight faraway sound of carriage wheels speeding caught their attention and both of the men broke from their individual thoughts and looked to where the sound was coming from. In the distance, through the thickly packed green braches of the forest fringe, they could see the faint outline of a carriage riding solitarily along the Village Road. The occupants could not be seen from the distance but something about the carriage wheels, being the only sound breaking the calm of the land, beckoned them to watch as it passed through the trees, sometimes seen, sometimes hidden by the crowded trees.
Soon, the carriage had crossed the bend of the forest and could not be seen anymore and the echo of the speeding wheels was faint and receding. When finally silence was once again restored, the men broke off their trance, and looked at each other. The General looked down at the other's horse.
"Your Shadow's a fine sturdy rider now."
"We ride a lot when it's still dark at dawn," said Lord Arnav casually, and then he nodded at the sky, "It's nearly teatime."
"Then its best we return lest your sister hail a war on our tardy entry." He chuckled and the Lord Arnav faintly smirked at the thought.
The men led their horses downhill and rode in the direction of the Castle which was still some distance away, while elsewhere a carriage rumbled on the Village Road, away from what was familiar to the new and strange that waited at the other end of time.
Chapter Twenty Six: New Home
Two hours ride along the Village Road is what takes a person travelling from the South Village to reach the North Village. Since the carriage was not as spacious as supposed, and all the huge sacks and articles had to be dumped in the rear, Kushi and Payal were left with no choice by to crush themselves against either flank of their aunt's voluminous form, as she controlled the mad race of the two horses. The girls had to hold onto their aunt's shoulders and arms to keep themselves from falling off the carriage and their aunt was consumed in an incessant ranting as if they were sitting idly on a garden bench and not tumbling and rumbling along the road at neck-breaking speed.
To their great relief did their aunt announce the arrival at the bend before the Village, but they could not enjoy the sights of the Village for she was in a hurry to get home and all sights blurred past the carriage and by the time the girls could pick out any structure, it had to be their aunt's house standing before them, as if waiting to snare them.
Well no, in reality, it was a beautiful cottage. It had two stories as well, though the upper floor had only a guest room and an attic. There was a tiny garden in the front and in the backyard...well that is for another time to describe.
"Home sweet home!" announced the aunt and then she paused and stared at Kushi. Kushi returned the stare, while trying to ease the dizziness in her head from the mad drive and wondering why her aunt was looking at her so.
"Well?" said her aunt after a moment's pause, "You plan to sleep in the carriage tonight?"
"Oh!" Kushi hastily stepped down from the carriage, and this time she held onto the cariage to not stumble and have her aunt's beefy hands holding her.
"Ah, you are learning to stand on your feet at last, aren't you?" commented her aunt comically but she was the only who laughed.
Her aunt hummed some tune and walked towards her cottage door, while Kushi peered into the carriage at Payal, who had her hands on her head.
"Jiji?"
"Coming in a minute," said her sister. As soon as the said 'minute' was over, Payal and Kushi were both normalized on their feet and gathered the luggage from the rear. As they dragged themselves and their load towards the cottage, the hardest part being the stairs from the courtyard to the door, Payal grunted and opined, "Next time, Kushi, we walk!"
"All the way from the North Village?" Kushi doubted, between heavy panting.
"All the way from the North Pole even," affirmed Payal, pulling a heavy sack over the second step, "I'm willing to walk any expanse, Kushi, if a choice is made between it and riding with Buaji at the reins."
Kushi had nothing to say to this and so decided to use her vocal energy in grunting and puffing while dragging the trunks and sacks up the steps to the door. As soon as they'd deposited the lot at the open doorway, they abandoned the baggage and went about on touring the house.
Something about her loneliness had obsessed Buaji to accessorizing curtains and tablecloths and there was fine embroidery and clothing everywhere you turned to look in the house. Curtains, cushions, big tables, small tables, footstools, wooden chairs, armchairs, living room lanterns, before the doors of rooms, rugs, carpets...everywhere looked white with pink flower prints embroidered with great finesse. And there was that sweet smell of baking which was an exclusive scent of their aunt's house...
An entire wall of the living room was reserved for memory frames where the charcoal-drawn pictures of her husband filled to deem the wallpaper absent. Kushi always felt her aunt and uncle to be two poles apart by nature and look. If her deceased uncle had been tall, lean and sickly lanky, her aunt was just the right height, but spacious, healthy and rigid. Where her uncle had been a man of few words but always laughing, her aunt was a woman of only words, and too much complaining. She complained about anything and everything: from her morning toes being too cold to the garden being weedy. She loved to do things all the time and keep talking even if no one was there to listen, but if one of her nieces was around, she would take the occasion as her enviable vacation, lounge about in the house while monitoring that the girls did all the work assigned to them well. Yes, that is what Kushi hated about being here. Buaji made them work from dawn to dusk. Every work that could be found in this house and in the houses nearby, their aunt made them do them. She trained them up in every job and every skill like no parent would dream their child to labour. But that was also the reason why Kushi and Payal were two bright girls who could flourish in any house they were put in without the assistance of anyone else. They knew almost everything there was needed to know to lead an independent life of necessity, something like what their aunt was living like now.
No sooner had they scanned the rooms for familiar arrangements than their aunt's voice called out from her bedroom near the kitchen, "Bitiya!! Can one of you drive the cart to the neighbour's and return it back to them?"
Kushi and Payal shared a glance.
"I'll do it," offered Kushi before Payal could utter a word, and the young girl was soon strolling towards the door.
Walking up to the cart, she pulled at the reins of the two horses by both her hands.
"Come on, horseies," said Kushi leading them out of the lawn and through the gate and onto the village street. There were houses spread all over the territory, houses with gardens and houses with workshops. It was to the nearest house that she led the horse cart and this house sported a huge workhouse at the rear. In this workhouse were carts and carriages and logs of wood and other equipments used to make carts out of. The owner was a carriage maker.
And she found him bent over a piece of rectangular wood as she walked into the workhouse with the horses and the cart, "Master Happyji."
The man looked up and Kushi saw that his beard and hair were powdered with wood chips and sawdust. But his eyes twinkled as they recognized the greeter before them, "Kushi bitiya!! What a pleasant surprise! It's been almost eight years since you came here!" He dropped his charcoal and his chipper down and after scrubbing his hands on his dirty apron, walked towards her, his arms open wide.
With an amiable smile, Kushi let go of the reins and walked into the man's arms. He was nearly as aged as her father and she could see that he looked older than the last time she'd met him, "How are you, Master Happyji?"
"Never better," smiled the elderly man, and just then a shuffle echoed from behind her and Kushi turned to see a young boy, aged around 10 or 11, dressed in a dirty overall standing there.
"Ah, come here, Ram," Master Happy called to the boy. The boy was fixedly staring at Kushi and as he inched forward into the work area, Kushi could see that the boy had a face smeared with dirt, sawdust and sweat. Kushi realized that he was the new help at Master Happy's garage. She was introduced to the boy who, she learnt, could not speak and she ruffled his hair as a sign of possible comradeship during her stay at the Village. But the boy did not respond nor even smile.
"Now run along Ram and take the horses to the stable," said the man and as the boy nodded and rushed to carry out his errand, Kushi asked the owner if he was still unmarried.
"Aye," said the man, "I prefer this. It's my kind of life'.but tell me, little girl, you must be nearly eighteen. Have your parents begun looking for a prince for you?" He winked, and then suddenly said, "But tell me, where is Payal bitiya? You two are inseparable or did you come alone for the first time!"
"No, she is at the house helping Buaji unpack the sacks," explained Kushi.
The man nodded and said, "Maybe you should go help her out and I'll come to meet her in the evening when you'll be settled and all."
"That would be a good idea, Master Happyji," assured Kushi with a smile, and she was soon skipping away, with the elder man smiling at her innocent departure before he returned to his worktable.
Kushi walked back to her aunt's house but on entering it could find her sister or her aunt no where. She was beginning to wonder where they were when she heard loud laughter from the rear of the house. She made her way to the kitchen window which overlooked the backyard and saw the two missing members there, one watching the other at work.
Now, her deceased uncle had been a swordsmith and his art was so consuming of his time that his wife learnt the skill to spend more time with him. His death had been a devastating blow to her aunt but the woman had been strong-hearted since her youth and soon, to make an earning as well as to remember her husband without being emotional, she took up his job of sword-making and flourished in her trade. The backyard of her house had a hard stone-table, an anvil, a sword grinder and an open outdoor furnace. The swords she made would then be sold to those market traders who were envoys for the armies in the periphery of the land.
Kushi pushed the backdoor open and lifting the skirt of her gown, climbed down the steps and into the heated garden. Coming to stand next to her sister, she watched her aunt at work, who was also giving an elaborate commentary as she laboured. Buaji was dressed in her work gown over which was an apron that was smeared with rust and soot from the furnace. Taking a long fiery piece of burning steel from the furnace with the help of huge tongs, she placed it nimbly on the anvil and held a metal hammer in her other hand.
"A swordsmith aims to create a sturdy fighting blade that is resilient under strain," she was saying to Payal, "a fine sharp edge and tip that withstands any pressure..."
Kushi looked at Payal, and asked in a low voice, "Are we to learn swordmaking too?"
Payal shrugged, "She told me to come and watch."
Buaji was hammering away on the steel that was placed stiffly on the stone table, "Steel is the best metal that can make a strong sword. But when we forge it, we add a mix of other metals too."
She stopped and pointed her fingers at the glowing rod, "Softer metals for the core or sides, harder for the edge and point. The reason why we forge a sword with hard steel around soft iron is because then the blade can both flex under sudden impact as well as resist deformation."
Buaji then used her tongs and moved the block of glowing metal back and forth between the hot coal furnace and the anvil where she hammered it.
She wiped her sleeve on her sweaty brow and resumed her hammering, "We need to shape this metal while it's red-hot by slowly and repeatedly hammering and re-heating it until it is the length, width, and thickness we want." Her aunt hammered away, grunting, "Work the sides and edges into shape..."
Kushi glanced at Payal and she nodded: yes, it did seem that their aunt was teaching them how to make swords...
Kushi noticed that there were over a dozen swords already made and stowed in an open trunk nearby, "Buaji? Why are you tiring yourself making all these swords? Can't you slow down a bit?"
"No," said her aunt, looking up, "I need some swords readied before the next day. It is an urgent order and I don't want the buyer to find the number less than what was asked for."
Kushi and Payal could say nothing to that and watched as their aunt as she heated the blade again, but this time on weak fire, "After giving it an initial shape, we need to temper it for strength and toughness. Low heating is something like...relaxing the steel and the longer a temperature is applied the more the metal's structure is relaxed, which makes the blade tougher while somewhat softer."
She then put the blade aside to cool and took an already shaped, re-heated and cooled one that was lying on the stone table. She wore thick gloves on and then pressed the sword's edge against a stone grinder which rotated when she pedaled a wheel attached to the grinder under the stonetable with her foot. Tiny sparks flew, and she spoke over the grinding sound, "We need to sharpen its edges and point and only then polish the final shape."
A few minutes passed and after a lot of grinding and frequent testing of sharpness at intervals, the desired effect was obtained and with a satisfied smile, Buaji placed the blade upon the stone table and with a metal knife, engraved a tiny symbol at its tip.
She then rummaged in another trunk and retrieved a tiny handle made of hardwood, "The hilt can be made out of horn or bone too, but hardwood is more cheap these days." She fixed it on the other end of the blade and then reheated that end.
After cooling it, she made them hold it and they found the blade to be quite sturdy and secure in the hilt.
"What next, Buaji?" asked Payal, admiring the sword in her hand.
"We need to polish it," said the aunt, smiling at it, "And then to get better shine and smoothness, we must oil it."
"And then Buaji's sword will be ready," said Kushi, grasping the sword and swinging it about.
"Careful!" said Buaji, taking it from her, "Goddess of Mischief, always unexpected! Wonder what mishaps you might fall into next!"
How strange indeed, I would say, for you will come to learn that in that casual remark of caution the aunt had quite foretold something that was about to happen the very next day.
Chapter Twenty Seven: Talks of Departure
If a marigold lifted its sun-touched head with pride thinking it looked beautiful in its garden, it should have turned green with envy seeing the delicate damsel seated in the midst of the many flowers in that vast garden that evening. Lady Anjali indeed looked like a sad angel with her eyes perpetually dipping at the end but the fairness on her face was the reflected radiance of her heart and as she sat there shaded by the tallest tree in her garden and sitting on that wooden bench reading a book, anyone would want to stop and stare.
The General came that way searching for her and seeing her he stopped and smiled, "Ah, my pretty Queen..."
The addressed looked up and smiled, "My dear, you must stop calling me that!"
The General walked to her, "As long as you are my wife, you will be my Lady Queen."
She said nothing and only moved aside to provide him a place to sit beside her. The bench groaned lightly as his added weight was accepted and he laid his hand across her shoulder. He pulled her to him and asked her, "You seem to be quite radiant today..."
Her eyes twinkled as she answered softly, "I have you to thank for..."
"I made you radiant?" he wondered amused and then smirked, "Oh yes, last night..."
She elbowed him to stop him from saying the rest and said, "I never discern the passage of time when you are with me."
"That is sad," said the General, his tone suddenly serious, "For a week is over and I leave for the East tomorrow."
The smile on his wife's face fell and her eyes clouded with sudden woe. Seeing this, he pulled her to an embrace and assured her, "I will be back soon, my love."
She lay her head on his shoulder and spoke nothing. She just wanted to keep hearing his voice, keep feeling his warmth...if there was a way she could lay on his shoulder like this forever...
"Lady Queen?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you mad at me?"
"I just wish you didn't have to go."
"I have no choice, do I?"
"You could leave the regiment. You will not need to go to battles again."
"What shall we live on then?"
"We have all the fortune we need here."
"But they are your brother's."
"What is my brother's is mine..."
"For how long? When a time comes and he decides to take a wife, all his fortunes will go to their progeny."
"But he will still have me with him...He cannot part from me and you know that better than I do."
The General laughed, "Are you jealous that your brother doesn't permit you on horse riding and takes only me along?"
"I'm not jealous," said the damsel, "I just...could you not do some work that will not take you far from home?"
"No other work suits me best," said General Jha, leaning back into the bench, "besides I love my work."
"You love what it rewards you with," pointed out his wife and he suddenly looked at her, "What do you mean?"
"The rewards of an assignment, what you get for going out to battle: isn't that what makes you want to go and do it again?"
"My greatest reward is coming after a hard battle to find love and peace in your arms," said the General, caressing her face and watching how she closed her eyes in surrender to his touch.
"You are beautiful, my Lady Queen," he whispered in her ears and she opened her eyes and stared into his eyes, "And you are the most loving husband in the entire world...only I wish you could stay longer. Farewells are so heartbreaking."
"All farewells are," said the General and leaned forward to kiss her on her lips, and in the milieu the garden watched and the sun began setting over them.
Chapter Twenty Eight: In the Night
He smashed his fist into his door, stumbling over the scraps and remains of the food he had consumed a few moments ago. Panting, he leaned against the door, straining to not let his mind succumb to his need.
I can't, I shouldn't, he kept telling himself, but he couldn't hear his own mind. It was like he was no longer there. His tongue burned with an unquenchable hunger that the diminished abundance of food from the pantry could not appease. He was breathing faster; he wanted to taste something alive. Something that had a live vein, provoked by a beating heart. Growling, he tried to hold onto a self-control he was far from reaching. He sank to the ground and buried his head between his head trying to keep his jaws clenched. His hands reached for the belt in the darkness and his trembling fingers struggled to bind it around his mouth. He was sweating terribly and he exhaled raspily. He was buckling the belt at the rear of his head when his hands, on their account, tore the belt off his face and threw it to the ground.
With a hungry growl, he was on his feet and his huge sweating hand had found the door handle. Yanking it open, he was soon thundering down the stairs, his eyes roving the dark inside of the Castle as he made his way downstairs. As soon as he had stepped off the last stair, his head turned to the right. To where he could scent the sleeping couple...something stirred within him. His consciousness. And then he was racing for the huge doors to the night outside.
She had heard the rattle of the buckle as the belt fell onto the upstairs floor. She looked to her side and saw that her husband was in deep sleep. Wanting to not wake him to what awaited outside their room, she slipped out of bed, hastily tied the binds of her long robe around her, and tiptoed out of the room. Standing in the dark living room and seeing the huge doors to the garden open before her, she knew what had happened. The night was windy, wildly windy, but there was no rain. It was cold too, and she pressed her arms crossed before her as she made her way to the doors. The darkness of the night enveloped the entire door but her fair face shone against the darkness as it searched for him. Fighting the cold wind, she released her arms from their warm pose, and stretching them out either way, she tried to close the immense doors. She had nearly closed them when she saw a shadow on the step outside and she paused. He had returned. The shadow grew, as he made his way closer to the door, climbing each step as if they were heavy hurdles of hell and soon he came to stand before it, a dark figure, shirtless, and his shadowed face coming before her and blocking the light of the moon from her vision.
She heard it first. The drops falling to the cold floor. She looked down and saw his hands dripping with dark red blood that looked almost black in the moonlight. Her face paled and she looked at him afraid, "Chotey..."
He collapsed to the floor, fainting and she let go of her hold on the doors. The wind burst into the room, swinging the doors wide open and lifting her long hair as she sank to the ground before her brother's fallen form.
"Chotey..." she cried.
He opened his eyes, but said nothing. She took his hands in hers and wiped them on her robe. She saw and understood, "You did it again?"
"I had to," he found his voice to say. But it still sounded faraway to him.
"Chotey," she said and when he didn't answer, she repeated, "Little One."
"I couldn't stop myself," he said, "I would have hurt you if I hadn't done this."
"No Chotey," she whispered, tears streaming down her face, "You can never hurt me. Whether the one inside of you is you or not you...you can never hurt me."
"I don't trust myself," he said, his gaze moving to her face, "If anything were to happen to you..."
She pressed her bloodied finger on his lips to stop him from saying further, "You are tired my Little One, you need to sleep..."
She laid him on her lap and caressed his hair until his eyes had closed and she could hear his deep breathing.
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, her lips red with his blood from her hand, and her tender tear-drop falling where she had kissed him with only the wind as the sole witness to that night's occurrence.
Important Note: Before you go, please read this 'POINTER in the PLOT'.
As I have often stated, this tale of mine is a an attempt to use symbolisms and show the depth of not just the intricate plot the show offers us but also to delve into the psychological depths of the wonderful characters media has created for hungry IPKKND fanatics like us. I take this moment to share with you the contrasting symbolism of the horses, Lightning and Shadow. You might wonder why I gave our infamous villain Shyam Jha with a 'white' house and our deadly and promising hero with a 'black' horse. I devised this proportion with significance to the names I gave to the horses. Analogous to the name Lightning, Shyam's horse is his conscious and unconscious mind where he is white in all eyes but dark inside. Like a lightning flash, he is momentarily good but part of an immense darkness and before and after the lightning, it is the darkness that prevails and rules. Similarly, Arnav is the hero whose life is secretive, dark and unrevealed. His unconscious is disturbed but still and his conscious mind is stricken by the prejudices that rule his existence. He is like his horse 'Shadow' and prefers to remain dark and in the shadow not telling what is on his mind or in his heart to anyone and sometimes not en to his sister. But though he remains in the shadow and his mind is darkened, he is still a man whose inner light has not died but has only been overcome by a shadow, which leads us to my most important pointer: It is only in darkness that you can see lightning (Shyam) and it is only when there is light that a shadow(Arnav) can exist.
That kind of capsules the personalities our Arnav and Shyam, doesn't it? *wink*
To return back to the Index, visit:
https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/2901910/arhi-ff-1-the-beasts-and-the-bleeding-roses
Edited by Aquiline - 12 years ago
Shiv Shakti
Madhubala - Ek Ishq Ek Junoon
Cricket
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