AN 2: Thanks a bunch for all those who reviewed. I would like to apologize as I could not PM to some of my readers as IF decided that there was a limit to the no of PM's I could send being a new member.
Also for those concerned about Praja, I 'll say only one thing.
This story is a different one having multiple facets. Praja is only a part of it because I believe in giving every character their story.
Thus it won't simply adhere to Pratap, Ajabde or Phool. Every character, hero or villain will have their part. Even Hukum Singh though dead had played an important role resulting in the current condition of the Rajput Community.
Many things are hidden and not even Pratap has all the cards.
So just patiently follow the story.
As of now Pratap and Ajabde's story will be showed in flashbacks only. For they had met in 2004, if you guys have paid attention, and presently it is 2014 and Pratap is 32 years old.
CHAPTER 5
Panna Dhai was a unique woman was what Krishnaa decided as she stared at the stooping old woman wipe the large life size portrait with a grace which was generally unseen in someone approaching their nineties.
Panna Dhai apparently valued the portrait more than her life, was a fact quite well known in Kherwa. That the only way she would allow it to be taken away from her was when she would have departed to the realm of the dead. Perhaps not even than.
Be it may, she refused to be parted from it and didn't allow anyone to even touch it. Six years earlier she had acquired it and since than worshipped it. Every evening she would drag her old bones to the bathroom and cleaning up properly, she would carefully dust the portrait.
Even being her adopted ward, Krishnaa didn't have an exemption to the rule and no matter how many times she asked her foster mother's words remained the same.
"When the time is right, you'll know. Now go and do your work".
All in all despite the jeers or the ridicules she faced at her weird obsession with the portrait, she let nothing faze her. Indifferent she went on with her routine.
So it was quite surprising when one morning she went to greet her mother, she saw her mother sitting on the bed a smile on her decrepit face.
"Panna Dhai what has happened?" Krishnaa enquired at her mother's weird actions.
Her mother looked up at her a crooked smile on her face, which made her look almost younger, Krishnaa realised.
Panna Dhai reached out for her young daughter.
She gently laid a hand on her head.
"Do you want to see the portrait child?"
Krishnaa was shocked.
In the all the years she had been with her mother, she had never once allowed her to glimpse the features hidden behind the purple drape.
Finally at a chance to solve the hidden mystery, the twenty one year old nodded eagerly.
Her mother slowly rose and walked towards the portrait. Beckoning her, she slowly reached out to the drapes and with surprising strength pulled them down.
Krishnaa froze.
A young man stared out of the painted canvas.
His dark hair curled up in the edges framed his strong aristocratic jaw and a straight aquiline nose. His lips were thin, but welcoming curved into an uneven smile.
But what arrested her thoughts were his eyes.
Dark and deep. That was the impression that first came into mind looking at those hypnotising pair of eyes.
Despite being painted on they didn't look lifeless. A myriad of emotions graced those eyes. From joy to grief, love to hate. Concern and care with anger and fierceness.
Mesmerising and unique yet unable to hide the feral edge to them.
That was when a realisation hit her.
The person in the portrait was a predator. A hunter. Someone who could wipe away lives at a blink of an eye if he wished to.
Yet no matter how dangerous they felt Krishnaa felt safer just looking at the portrait.
It was as if she had seen those eyes before. They felt comforting, familiar.
Where had she seen them?
It was then when a memory came back to her.
FLASHBACK
The fifteen year old girl on the cusp of maidenhood ran through the woods in evident haste.
Her long hair had long ago left her carefully tied bun giving her a harried look. Her once beautiful red salwar was tattered, torn in multiple places, the dupatta long gone.
Her face was wet with tears and screwed with panic at her predicament.
She stumbled over an estranged branch and felt herself fall onto the damp muddy ground.
She breathed in the cool damp smell of the soil and coughed wiping her face as she staggered up holding a blackened tree for support.
Turning back she glanced rapidly at the empty path taking in huge gulps of air.
A sob broke through her as tears welled up her eyes.
What wrong had she done for which God was punishing her? She had simply because she had rejected the lecherous advances of Rao Surtan Singh Chauhan, the self proclaimed king of Bundi.
A bitterness rose in her.
This was Rajputana where women were supposed to be respected and prized. Yet even then rotten eggs like Rao Surtan existed preying on helpless women who couldn't do anything to fight his or his offending advances.
It was then when she heard the crack of a branch being stepped.
She whirled around in shock and immediately cursed herself.
She had been so busy in her pity party that she had missed those bas***ds sneaking on her.
The leader goon gave her a wide lecherous grin showing his bad teeth.
"So finally ran out of fire did you pretty little flower?" Garjan Singh leered at her slowly inching closer step by step.
She backed away holding up her hand.
"Don't, D- Don't come near me. Stay where you are. I mean it. Don't. Stop. Stop you hellish man. Stop. I said stop."
Garjan Singh gave her no mind, his grin widening as he ran his eyes down her slender form, licking his lips. Young girls were his best preference.
The girl gave a whimper as finally slammed onto a hard surface. A tree.
She was trapped with nowhere to go. A whimper rose to her lips as her will crumbled, her fear returning tenfold.
She was done for now.
As she slowly realised her bleak future, she suddenly felt the wind change.
Her father a fellow forest and animal lover had made sure to teach her how to sense the footsteps and gait of approaching animals.
Her brows furrowed.
It didn't feel like any animal.
Garjan Singh stood very close to her now. She could smell the sour taste of sweat littering his body and his stale breath.
It was closer. She could sense the footsteps stop right outside the clearing.
Garjan Singh raised a hand reaching out for her.
The next second was a blur.
Her eyes were closed and so first she had heard the soft click and next second Garjan Singh gave a pained yelp.
A few more clicks followed, succeeded by moans and cries.
Finally it was silent.
Trembling she slowly opened an eye.
A massacre met her sight.
Garjan Singh and his goons lay on the ground bullet wounds all over their body, the red liquid of life gushing out in an alarming speed.
It was then as a sigh of relief escaped her she sensed the other presence.
A cloaked man stood in front of her. Towering over her, her mind provided at a height of really six feet or more.
He stalked towards her with the grace of a predator of the night.
When he came closer she could see the glint of metallic silver in his hands and a black mask on his face.
Only his dark eyes remained visible.
She stood transfixed staring at those onyx orbs. Turbulent yet calm. A typhoon waiting to be released.
Then he spoke.
"Are you alright?"His voice was firm and low, with a husky quality in it.
"Y-yes," she stammered out. "Thank you. I- I am Krishnaa. T-Thanks a l-lot. I owe you my life."
Her masked saviour gave her a nod.
"Follow me. I will take you to your home."
"Wait!" Krishnaa exclaimed as he turned to leave. "What is your name?"
The saviour cocked his head and turned to stare at her.
His dark eyes glinted.
"My name is of no consequence. But..." he considered, "you may call me Sakhaveer."
FLASHBACK ENDS
Krishnaa gasped as understanding filled her.
She turned her startled eyes to her smiling mother.
"Sakhaveer! Its him. You know him?"
Panna Dhai gave her an impish smile.
"Sakhaveer he maybe for you. But for me and the world he is the oncoming of change."
Krishnaa was confused not to mention bewildered.
"What do you mean? Who is Sakhaveer?" her excitement at finally knowing the identity of her saviour making her impatient.
Panna Dhai ignored her. "For years he had laid down quietly working in the background, pulling the strings from the dark, biding his time. But now the moment has come. Finally the lion shall emerge from his den."
"Who are you talking about? Krishnaa snapped irritated.
Panna Dhai looked at her daughter with joyous eyes.
"Once upon a time Baujiraj Pratap Singh Suryavanshi, heir to the Suryavanshi Empire. Now Pratap Songara Singh Suryavanshi, the ruler of Songara Empire. Or in other words," Panna Dhai smirked, "Sakhaveer the guardian of Rajputana. Your saviour."
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