As the herald's voice echoed through the grand hall, announcing the beginning of the palace celebration, the atmosphere grew charged with anticipation.
Suddenly, a rich and mellow voice sounded, entrancing everyone with its magic.
The assembled dignitaries, nobles, and courtiers turned their attention to the central dais, where the court poet, Amar Simha, stepped forward.
Amar Simha, the Raaj Kavi was here. Amar Simha's facial features were strikingly handsome, often leaving those who beheld him in awe. His face was a canvas of refined elegance, mesmerizing the onlooker with his high cheekbones and a strong jawline that gave him an air of quiet authority.
His eyes, deep and expressive, were a shade of warm ebony, framed by long, dark lashes that seemed almost unreal. They conveyed a depth of emotion, seeming to be love and intelligence, like that could rival a fox, captivating anyone who met his gaze.
His nose was straight and well-defined, adding to the symmetry of his features, and his lips, often set in a contemplative smile, were perfectly shaped, seemingly always pointing at his playful and charming demeanour.
As he walked forth, his skin, which had a warm, dusky tone, glowed with health, accentuating his inherent grace and charm. His thick and lustrous hair, was a deep shade of black, usually tied back neatly into a bun, held by golden headband, set with pearls, though a few strands often escaped, softening his appearance and adding a touch of boyish charm.
In terms of attire, he always seemed to wear garments that reflected his enigmatic yet profound taste.
On this occasion, he donned a richly embroidered robe of light blue, adorned with intricate gold patterns that caught the light with every movement. The fabric flowed gracefully around him, enhancing his regal presence without overwhelming it.
Around his neck, he wore a distinctive piece of jewelry that marked his unique identity—a pendant in the shape of a peacock feather, intricately crafted in gold and studded with tiny emeralds and sapphires.
As Amar Simha stepped before the assembled court, the pendant gleamed against his chest, catching the eye of many. It was like he himself was the definition of elegance. His poise, his intellect, and his undeniable good looks made him a figure of admiration and envy, his every word and gesture carefully observed and often emulated.
H e stood in the middle of the hall, taking in everyone's reaction with a calm and composed smile.
With a commanding yet gentle voice, he began to recite his verses, his words flowing like a melodious stream:
"From the east, the sun arises,
painting gold across the war-torn skies,
Where warriors brave and wise,
wield their swords with pride.
With hearts of iron, their thundering strikes,
their victory a mere breath away, like destiny of lives,
Their valor shine like beacon of light
Guarding us and the motherland's pride
In fields where battles rage and roar,
Fierce courage echoes evermore
For turmoil may be put to rest
with peace and ever resounding honour they brought....."
As he concluded, a hushed reverence filled the hall, the weight of his words lingering in the air. The emperor, seated upon his ornate throne, smiled approvingly and clapped his hands in applause.
YOU ARE READING
Lotus among the Roses
Historical Fiction'I cried that night.....so much that it numbed me to my core' Padmini sobbed hard. Her life came crashing down at her when she found that her husband had a mistress....... " Gulbahar" this name signified the woman he loves......just like her name wa...
