Anya's ancient antics: a mahabharat tale

chapter 49

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The warm afternoon sun filtered through the intricately carved windows of the palace, casting golden patterns on the marble floor. A soft breeze from the open arches stirred the curtains, bringing with it the faint scent of jasmine. The grand hall was unusually lively, with the soft hum of voices filling the space. Princess Bhanumati stood at the center of attention, poised and elegant, her sari draped flawlessly, the rich gold and emerald hues shimmering with every movement. Her dark hair, adorned with delicate jewels, cascaded down her back as she spoke with Queen Gandhari and Shakuni.

"You’ve truly mastered the art of diplomacy, Princess," Gandhari remarked, her voice warm but carrying the weight of authority. Despite the blindfold covering her eyes, the queen’s sharpness was palpable. "It is rare to see someone so young with such wisdom in matters of state."

Bhanumati bowed her head respectfully. "Your words honor me, Queen Gandhari. My father always taught me that a princess must understand her kingdom's needs before her own desires. It would be a privilege to serve both Kalinga and Hastinapur."

Shakuni, reclining on the cushioned seat beside his sister, couldn’t hide his sly grin. His beady eyes flickered with amusement as he added, "Indeed, Bhanumati, you have a sharp mind. Kalinga’s future will be in excellent hands. And," he paused for effect, "it’s always good to know that Hastinapur can rely on such a wise princess for the future."

Anya, standing near the back of the hall with a small tray of flowers for Gandhari’s afternoon prayers, felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She clenched her hands around the tray, her eyes drawn to Bhanumati. The princess was so calm, so composed, speaking effortlessly while Anya felt more out of place than ever. A pang of envy rose in her chest, but she shook it off, focusing instead on her task.

Lost in thought, Anya’s foot caught on the corner of the richly woven carpet beneath her. The tray slipped from her grasp, the flowers scattering across the polished floor, some landing near Bhanumati’s feet.

The sudden noise startled everyone. Bhanumati gasped softly, her graceful posture faltering as she took a step back, her ankle twisting slightly. She stumbled, her delicate sandals scuffing the floor. Gandhari rose immediately, her hand outstretched in concern, despite her inability to see. "Bhanumati!" she called, her voice laced with worry.

Anya’s face turned crimson as she dropped to her knees, gathering the fallen flowers. "I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean—"

Gandhari’s face remained calm, though her voice held a stern edge. "Anya, you must be more careful. We have important guests here, and accidents like these cannot happen."

Anya’s heart sank, guilt tightening around her chest. "I... I'm truly sorry, mata." She turned to Bhanumati, her voice trembling with remorse. "Princess, are you alright? Please forgive me."

Bhanumati gave a soft, reassuring smile, though her eyes glinted with a coolness that made Anya’s skin prickle. "It’s alright, Princess Anya," she said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "No harm was done. Accidents happen." But despite her kind words, something in her gaze remained distant, as if she were assessing Anya’s every movement, every misstep.

Shakuni leaned forward with a mocking smirk, his tone playful yet laced with condescension. "Anya, my dear, the palace is no place for carelessness. You must learn to walk with more grace, especially in such delicate company."

Anya’s face flushed deeper, her fingers fumbling with the scattered flowers. "I’ll be more careful next time. I promise."

Bhanumati, still smiling, stepped back gracefully, avoiding the mess of petals. "It’s nothing to worry about, Anya. Just remember, in a palace like this, every move is watched."