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Gauri, a young village girl holding firm views about morals a...
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Innocence like a dew drop on a grass blade,
Mind like the sharp edge of a warrior's blade.
With heart of a lioness and stealth of a tiger,
The girl looks down upon the enemy who quivers.
She wasn't the first of her kind,
Diplomat, determined and divine.
Many alike reigned before,
With seductive silver tongue, valiance, and thirst for gore.
Still, she was different, ethereal and soft,
A different kind of magic pulsing in her bones.
She didn't shed the tears of the women before her,
She didn't sang melancholy of broken hearts, of hot flashes and burns.
And most formidably, she didn't let anyone define her.
She relented and fought every time,
Bouncing their claims and words.
Unlike the old matriarch, her soul wasn't a slave of love,
But a slate of stardust, moonlight and meteors.
There was a great fire in her, bold and bright,
That didn't let her forget, her crown was pristine.
So when the evil strike,
She smirks with amber in her eyes.
She remembered who she was,
And the entire game turned on her side.
Silence applauded at the tryst of morose and fear. The lips of Vasundhara quiver at the unforgettable moment which occurred an hour ago. The surroundings seem to be frozen in anticipation of what might erupt next- her composed façade or the temper of a pacing Gauri. Both the females were on edge, eyes skipping to the entrance once in a while in hopes of Yagya's return.
