Chapter 7: Amer Palace VI
Sila Devi Mandir (Amer Palace)
With the final strains of their prayer lingering in the air, Damyanti slowly opened her eyes. Her heart brimming with a sense of peace and contentment.
Stepping forward with measured grace, she approached the statue of Goddess Sila Devi. Her movements imbued with reverence and devotion as her footsteps echoed softly against the cool stone floor.
Before the towering likeness of the divine mother, Damyanti paused, her gaze lifting upward in silent supplication. With a steady hand, she reached out her fingers, brushing against the delicate petals of the water lilies that her son had brought.
Damyanti lowered herself to her knees, her heart overflowing with gratitude as she placed the water lilies at the feet of the goddess. The flowers, resplendent in their fragrant beauty, seemed to shimmer in the soft glow of the temple.
Damyanti bowed her head again in silent prayer. As she rose to her feet once more, a radiant smile graced her lips and gave a final glance of reverence at the statue.
Damyanti turned to her son and her eyes shined with pride and affection. But when she saw her daughter, Princess Meera, who was married away by her husband without her approval and consent to a Vaishya barbarian(foriegner) next to him, her smile dimmed a little. She reached where her son and daughter stood.
Prince Jai stood tall and noble, his eyes reflecting the same unwavering devotion that she held in her own heart. Beside him, her daughter awaited whose expression was ambiguous.
As Damyanti stood , Prince Jai Singh instinctively bowed his head, his hand gently reaching out to touch his mother's feet in a gesture of utmost respect. In that moment, Damyanti's heart swelled with pride at the sight of her son's respect. She bestowed upon him a tender smile, her eyes brimming with maternal affection as she offered him a silent blessing.
But as her gaze shifted to her daughter, she couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Though the young woman mirrored her brother's gesture, touching her mother's feet in a show of respect. But Damyanti sensed detachment in her daughter's demeanor. A distance seemed to form between them.
Suppressing a sigh, Damyanti gave a neutral expression as she gave her blessings first to her daughter in a monotone voice.She gave no hint of the disappointment that weighed heavy on her heart.
She knew that part of it must be her fault for her daughter's current future because she is her mother. But she could not bear to see her daughter even now, even if her daughter came from the capital of Mughal Empire, Agra, after four years.
In that moment as she stood between her children, Damyanti couldn't help but wonder where she had gone wrong. She had raised them both with the same love and devotion, instilling in them the same values and principles.
Yet somewhere along the way a divide had formed which separated her from her daughter in ways that she couldn't quite understand and finally the tragedy of the marriage happened purported by her husband who took her daughter to Agra at the time.
Damyanti then turned towards her son, Prince Jai, a warmth suffused her heart. His presence a beacon of hope and promise for the future.
"Jai, my blessings are always with you," she began, her voice tinged with maternal affection, "but you have the potential to be more than just a prince. You have the opportunity to become a leader that commands not just the respect of the subjects, but their love and blessings as well."
Jai's eyes sparkled with excitement as he looked up at his mother, his eagerness palpable. "Then, mother, tell me the story that I liked the most," he implored, his voice tinged with childlike enthusiasm.
But Damyanti's expression grew solemn, her gaze locking with her son's. "This is not just a story, Jai," she cautioned gently, "this is the tradition of your ancestors, a legacy that you must carry forward with pride and honor."
"Yes, mother," Jai nodded eagerly, "I love to hear about our brave ancestors from you. That's why I want to hear about them time and again."
A smile touched Damyanti's lips as she looked upon her son, her heart swelling with pride at his eagerness to embrace his heritage. "You must convert this brimming enthusiasm into bravery, Jai," she advised, her tone firm but loving, "you have the blood of mighty men coursing through your veins, but you must prove yourself worthy of that lineage."
"Mother," Jai's voice was earnest, his eyes shining with determination, "I also want to become brave like them. My ancestors who were Bappa Rawal, Rana Hamir, Rana Kumbha, Rana Sanga, Rana Shakti, my grandfather, and finally Maharana Pratap, my grand uncle. Will they bless me to become a mighty warrior like themselves?"
Damyanti's gaze softened as she looked upon her son, her heart swelling with pride at his reverence for their illustrious lineage. "Why not, Prince?" she replied, her voice filled with unwavering faith, "if you take lessons from their lives and embody their noble qualities, you too shall rise to greatness."
Meanwhile as Prince Jai and his Damyanti spoke, Princess Meera listened from the sidelines, her thoughts swirling with confusion and disbelief. Her chest felt tight with raging emotions as she listened to her brother's eager questions and her mother's proud responses.
How could her mother continue to espouse the greatness of the Rajputs, she wondered, when their paternal family members, including her father who her mother married into had been among the first to come under the rule of the Mughal invaders.
They traded their independence for promises of wealth and privilege. It was a truth that had been whispered in hushed tones within the walls of the Amer Palace. A truth that had always left a bitter taste in Meera's mouth, who was the grand-niece of Maharana Pratap.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
marvel_away
marvel_away Pictures related to the novel will be on the comment section.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone