𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐣𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬

4 | Gajra Tales & Unexpected Collisions

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a gentle glow on the deserted streets of Rajasthan. The Rajput brothers bid each other farewell, dispersing in different directions.

Abhinandan, the King of Rajasthan, sat behind the wheel of his luxurious car, the engine humming softly as he navigated the winding roads towards his palace. As he drove through the quiet streets, his mind wandered, caught in the tendrils of nostalgia.

The night had stirred something within him, and his thoughts drifted to Akshata, his wife. What was once a union of convenience had transformed into something deeper and profound. The realization had struck him like a lightning bolt, altering his perspective on their marriage.

In the beginning, Abhinandan had perceived Akshata as a potential burden, a spoiled princess who would add nothing to his life. However, time had proven him wrong. Akshata was not just a queen in name; she embodied grace and calm, a beacon of positivity in his life.

Her routine defied his preconceived notions; she wasn't the idle, spa-loving or obnoxious woman he had expected. Instead, she woke before him, engaged in prayers, and seamlessly blended into the rhythm of household chores.

From assisting the head housemaid to working alongside his mother in the kitchen, to actively participating in his Garima chachi's NGO work, Akshata's days were a testament to her compassionate and diligent nature.

She took care of his grandparents, ensuring their well-being and scolding them when needed. She cooked everyone's favorite dishes and sent them meals, even if she had to skip her own amidst her responsibilities.

Abhinandan's perception of Akshata underwent a profound transformation. He realized the depth of her character, the sacrifices she made, and the love she poured into their home. The guilt for his initial coldness towards her weighed heavily on him, and he resolved to rectify his mistakes.

He knew he had neglected the woman who had silently supported him and his family through thick and thin. A sense of guilt settled in his chest, but determination replaced it. He would give their marriage the chance it deserved.

The dim streetlights flickered as Abhinandan's gaze fell upon a Gajra seller, his cart adorned with vibrant garlands of Mogra. The fragrant blooms beckoned to him, their delicate aroma wafting through the night air. Without a second thought, he parked his car near the vendor, drawing surprised glances from the locals who couldn't fathom their king in such a humble setting.

"Namaste, Kakasa," Abhinandan greeted the Gajra seller with a warm smile, his royal presence juxtaposed against the simplicity of the market.

"Namaste, Ranaji." The seller, taken aback by the unexpected encounter, returned the greeting. Abhinandan's piercing gaze softened as he perused the intricate Gajras.

"Yeh Mogra wala Gajra dijiyega, (Please give me this Mogra gajra,)" Abhinandan requested, pointing to a particular garland.

"Ji, Ranaji. (Yes, Ranaji)" The Gajra seller, a hint of admiration in his eyes, handed the fragrant creation to the king.

"Nahi, Ranaji. Aapse kaise paise le sakte hai hum? Aap humare iss choti si dukan par aaye yahi humare liye bahut badi baat hai. (No, Ranaji. How can we take money from you? Your visit to our small shop is a significant gesture for us.)" Abhinandan, though appreciative, attempted to pay for the Gajra, but the vendor refused.

"Kakasa, aapke mehnat ka phal hai. Aur humare dadaji kehte hai aati hui laksmi ko kabhi mana nhi kiya krte hai, nhi toh mata rooth jaati hai, lijiye kakasa. (Kakasa, this is the result of your hard work. And my grandfather say, never refuse the incoming goddess of wealth, or she might get upset. Please take it, Kakasa.)" A determined gleam sparkled in Abhinandan's eyes.