Bhanumati's Curse

10. Softening of Steel

The sun had just begun to set over the Rajadhrapura palace, casting a golden hue across the vast courtyards and corridors. The air was warm, the breeze gentle, but for Bhanumati, the weight of her grief and anger still hung heavily on her heart. Every time she looked around, she was reminded of the injustice that had been done to her, the loss of her family, and the ruin of her life.

Yet, there was one presence that had started to break through the dark walls she had built around herself—Rajendra’s son, little Prince Rajshekhar. The boy had a certain innocence about him, a radiance that seemed untouched by the cruelty of the world around them. Bhanumati had tried to ignore him, to distance herself from the child whose father was responsible for so much of her pain. But, as much as she resisted, Rajshekhar’s laughter, his curiosity, and his unconditional affection had slowly begun to soften her.

It had been one of those quiet afternoons when Bhanumati found herself in the royal gardens again, seeking solitude. The roses bloomed all around her, the fragrance of jasmine lingering in the air. She had sat down on a stone bench, staring at the fountain in front of her, letting her mind wander into memories of her brother and their childhood.

She had barely noticed Rajshekhar’s approach until she felt a soft tug at her dupatta of lehnga.

The littleboy said grinning mischievously “Queen Bhanumati! Will you play with me today?”

Startled, she looked down at him, his wide eyes shining with excitement. He held a small wooden ball in his hands, the kind that young children played with to pass the time. For a moment, she hesitated. She had never indulged in games with him before, but something about his infectious smile made it impossible for her to say no.

She said softly, smiling “What kind of game do you want to play?”

Rajshekhar’s grin widened, his enthusiasm growing as he explained the simple game of tossing the ball back and forth. Bhanumati could feel her heart warming as they started to play, the sound of boy laughter echoing in the quiet garden.

As the game continued, she found herself enjoying it more than she expected. She laughed too, something she hadn’t done in what felt like years. The game brought back memories of her own childhood, playing with her brother, teasing him as they ran through their palace.

At one point, the little prince missed the ball and ran after it, tripping over his own feet. He landed face-first in the grass, and for a moment, there was silence. Bhanumati rushed over, her heart pounding in fear that he might have hurt himself. But before she could reach him, Rajshekhar lifted his head, a wide grin on his face, dirt smeared across his cheeks.

The boy said laughing “I’m okay! I’m tough, just like Father!”

Bhanumati couldn’t help but smile, though there was a bittersweetness in her expression. She knelt down beside him, gently wiping the dirt from his face with the edge of her sari.

Shr said teasingly “You’re tougher than your father, I think.”

Aryan beamed, his chest puffing out in pride as he scrambled to his feet, ready to continue the game.

Did they both know someone is watching them with continuous stare...
"I know that you can't able to stay away from him."

Later at night, the palace was quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustling of the night breeze and the occasional distant call of a night bird. Inside her chamber, Queen Bhanumati had finally settled into bed, the day's events still fresh in her mind. Her new life as Rajendra’s wife was complex and filled with challenges, but one thing that had begun to bring her solace was her relationship with Rajshekhar, Rajendra’s young son. The bond they had formed over the weeks had become a comforting part of her otherwise tumultuous existence.

As the moonlight streamed through the large windows of her chamber, casting silver patterns on the floor, Bhanumati’s rest was interrupted by a soft knock on her door. She frowned, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It was late—much later than when visitors or servants would usually come.

She calling out gently “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and there stood Rajshekhar, his small frame silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. He looked frightened, his eyes wide and filled with tears, clutching a worn stuffed animal tightly to his chest. Bhanumati immediately sat up in bed, concern etching her features.

Bhanumati asked soothing voice “Rajshekhar, what’s wrong? Why are you up at this hour?”

Rajshekhar shuffled into the room, his small footsteps barely making a sound on the marble floor. He stopped a few feet from her bed, his gaze fixed on the floor.

He said with trembling voice “I had a bad dream. It was scary, and I couldn’t wake up.”

Bhanumati’s heart ached at the sight of the frightened child. She extended her arms toward him, her expression softening.

She said “Come here, dear. It’s okay. Bad dreams can be very frightening, but you’re safe here.”

Rajshekhar hesitated for a moment before slowly walking over to the bed. He climbed up with her help, his small body trembling as he nestled into the warmth of her covers. Bhanumati gently adjusted the blankets around him, her heart swelling with tenderness as she noticed the little boy's obvious distress.

As they settled into the bed together, Rajshekhar looked up at Bhanumati, his eyes still glistening with tears. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rajshekhar said “Queen Bhanumati, as you're wife of my father so can I call you Choti Maa?”

The question surprised her. The term “Choti Maa” was an affectionate way of referring to someone as a “little mother,” a sign of deep trust and comfort. Bhanumati’s heart warmed at the request, and she gently brushed a lock of hair from Rajshekhar’s face.

She replied smiling softly “Of course, you can. If it makes you feel better, you can call me Choti Maa.”

Rajshekhar’s face lit up with a relieved smile. He nestled closer to her, the tension in his small body slowly easing as he felt the comforting presence of the woman he had come to trust so deeply. Bhanumati adjusted the covers around them, feeling a profound sense of connection and purpose in this simple act of comfort.

As they lay together in the soft glow of the moonlight, Rajshekhar began to talk about his dream, his voice growing steadier as he spoke. Bhanumati listened intently, her hand gently stroking his hair in a soothing rhythm.

“In the dream, I was all alone, and there were shadows everywhere. I tried to call out for you, but no one could hear me.”

Bhanumati’s heart ached for the boy. She pulled him closer, wrapping him in a protective embrace.

She said “You’re never alone, Shekhu. I’m here for you, and I always will be. No matter what happens, you can always come to me.”

The boy asked "Shekhu ??"

"Yes I also gave you a nickname like you give me" She said smiling

The boy’s eyes fluttered closed, his breathing beginning to steady as he absorbed the warmth and safety of Bhanumati’s presence. She could feel the tension melting away from his small frame, the nightmares of the night slowly being replaced by the peaceful assurance of her care.

Rajshekhar (sleepily): “Thank you, Choti Maa. I feel better now.”

Bhanumati (whispering): “You’re welcome, my dear. Sleep well.”

As Rajshekhar drifted off to sleep, Bhanumati remained awake for a while longer, her thoughts wandering. The role of “Choti Maa” was a new one for her, and though it had come about through circumstances she had not chosen, it was a role she was beginning to embrace with warmth and sincerity.

The bond between them was growing stronger, and with each shared moment, Bhanumati found herself more deeply connected to the child who had, in many ways, become a beacon of hope and healing in her tumultuous life. As she watched over him, she felt a sense of peace that had been missing for so long, a gentle reminder that love could indeed flourish even in the most unexpected places.

"A innocent and delicate bond is forming against the revenge and hatred."

To be continued....