The Unventured Passions

The Solar Eclipse

'In this world of emotion,
Where so many are eclipsed,
By sorrows born of tragedy,
The brave whom hang on,
To their pure child self,
Are as stars to the black heavens,
Such as they are,
Playful constellations,
Brave enough to survive,
Yet imbibed in the pain,
Of empathy induced suffering,
Transforming their witnessing,
Into real locomotion,
Upon heart fashioned rails,
Becoming saviours,
In a world awash with SOS cries.'

The tip of the feather was still dipped in the pot of blue ink, on the writing desk, and the handmade paper scroll lay open infront, saved by the weight of a glass globe, waiting be to dried.
The candle stand was right beside, the golden flame burnt steady and bright, spreading its mysterious aura all around.
Satyakirth had leaned forward to read the lines, written by the woman he loved, and a soft smile played on the corner of his lips.

"Incredible!" He murmured.

It was already dawn, a dawn without the rays of the sun, a dawn that was meant to be the hope for hundreds of villagers who called Raipur their home.
It was the dawn, which was meant to mature to a day when the king of Raipur would show himself to the crowd, to his beloved subjects, gathering their blessings, giving them his in return.

The entire land brimmed with unblemished excitement, with indomitable enthusiasm pouring across each happy face, and the palace too, hadn't been spared from it's radiance. Each corner had decked up with yellow marigolds and purple dalias, each corridor was lit with rows of diyas, and each heart thudded with the rhythmic drum beats announcing the advent of the auspicious Mahasurjograhan.

All were happy, all were busy, except the man in question. Satyakirth was absolutely nonchalant to the grandiose of this celebration, for in his mind he had been preparing himself for his final task, his task that was meant to mark a beginning of the end of the British rule in India. He knew there would be men in disguise amidst the happy crowd today, men who were spies, men who were imposters, men who could pose a threat to his mission, and hence with everything going one, Satyakirth had decided to mention a low key throughout the ceremony.

"Raja Saheb, you summoned?"
Karthik had entered the room, and hearing his footsteps, Satyakirth turned around and smiled.

"Yes, I didn't." He replied politely.
"There, my clothes for the ceremony, wear them and be with the queen."

"But..."
Karthik tried to protest, yet stopped as his eyes fell on Satya's determined calm gaze.
"Ji hukum Raja Saheb." He bowed his head and prepared to leave.

"Karthik." Satya called, and then let out a deep sigh.
"Try not to show your face much to the crowd. Let the queen face them, as much as possible." He commanded.

"Ji hukum", came the prompt reply.

In the amber light of oil lamps, the decorations in the royal courtyard reflected the sweet honey glow.
Above the festive doorway, beneath the fresh-cleaned plinth, the expectant crowd wandered in anticipation of relaxing banter. There were men, women, and their were young children who gaped with widened eyes at the gigantic royal walls.

Satyakirth too was standing amidst the crowd, yet a little away, standing in a simple white dhoti and a off white shawl wrapped around his shoulders, his arms crossed to his chest, his eyes fixated on the open hanging balcony where the queen was meant to make her appearance.

"Hooshiyar... Rajshiromoni Rajnandan Raja Rudra Narayan Sen's first queen, the mother of Raipur, Raj Rani Raimoti Rudra Narayan Sen.... at your sight!"

A royal guard had announced, drawing the attention of the attending audience, as with gaped expression everyone raised their heads and eyes to witness the magnificent sight of the Royal Queen making an appearance infront of them, beside her was the king's DhaiMaa.