A Glimpse of Red

Raj Nadani

Daksh Singh Rawal- Retired King of Rewar(Pratham 's Grandfather)moved swiftly through the grand corridor of the palace, each stride purposeful, his eyes hard with determination. The walls around them seemed to echo the weight of history, portraits of ancient ancestors watching solemnly as Daksh led Pratham deeper into the heart of the palace. Shadows flickered over Pratham's face, and questions stormed his mind. He'd never felt such tension, such unspoken gravity. The terror in his mother's eyes, his father's silent resignation, the glint of unshed tears in his grandmother's gaze-all of it gripped him like an invisible chain, tightening with each step.They passed through every hallway until Pratham noticed where they were headed: the **Sheesh Mahal**, the palace's hidden masterpiece, where water and mirrors intertwined in breathtaking harmony. As they stepped inside, Pratham's gaze swept across the mirrored walls and ceiling, each surface reflecting endless layers of light and water. Water flowed gently along the floor, catching the glint of dawn, casting ripples that danced over the walls and ceiling, making the room shimmer as if alive.In the center of the room, Daksh halted over a massive, intricately carved red rose embedded in the floor, its seven petals gleaming like blood against the polished marble. Pratham's eyes narrowed-he'd never noticed the extra petals before. With deliberate precision, Daksh tapped the largest petal seven times, the hollow sound echoing in the silence. Suddenly, a low rumble filled the chamber, the ground beneath them shifting. Pratham's instincts kicked in, and he drew his grandmother close, instinctively shielding her from whatever might come. His gaze shot to Daksh, whose steady, unflinching eyes met his with a fierce intensity-the same look Pratham remembered when he had first returned from a mission, bruised and bloodied. This was no mere ritual; this was the beginning of something long buried.As if summoned by Daksh's command, the marble floor split apart, and a hidden staircase spiraled downward, emerging from where the petals met. Pratham glanced back at his grandfather, who took a steadying breath, nodded, and without a word descended into the darkness below. The air around them was thick, heavy with secrets that had waited generations to be uncovered. Pratham tightened his grip on his grandmother's hand, then stepped forward, following Daksh down the winding staircase, each step resonating with the past and the uncharted path ahead.

Pratham descended the hidden staircase, guiding his grandmother's hand gently as they stepped deeper into the darkness. The air was thick, carrying an unfamiliar chill, and his senses sharpened as he reached the bottom. A deep, enveloping silence greeted them-until the faint, sure steps of his grandfather moved somewhere off to the left. Suddenly, a sharp *click* echoed, and an intense flood of light filled the chamber. Pratham instinctively closed his eyes, momentarily stunned by the brightness.As he adjusted, his gaze instinctively shifted to the left, searching for Daksh. His grandfather was staring to the right, transfixed. Pratham's curiosity stirred, and he turned his own gaze in that direction, his eyes settling on a massive, striking portrait that drew him in with an almost magnetic pull. He found himself stepping forward unknowingly, his attention captured completely.The portrait was of a young woman, breathtaking in her beauty and presence. She wore a richly adorned red lehenga, intricate jewelry sparkling against the fabric, and her eyes, deep and brown, held a haunting familiarity. Her features were elegant-an oval face, wide, expressive eyes, a delicate, refined nose, and lips like soft rose petals. Everything about her seemed both regal and heartbreakingly tender. Behind her, Pratham recognized the corridor of Rewar Estate, a subtle nod to her place in their legacy. She looked radiant, as if captured on the morning of her wedding, a moment filled with dreams and promise.Pratham's chest tightened, a strange mix of awe and sorrow filling him. With difficulty, he found his voice, almost a whisper. "Who...who is she?"A quiet sob broke the silence. He turned, realizing only then that his grandmother's face was streaked with tears, her body trembling. Durgavati took a shaky breath, her voice breaking as she spoke. "She is Rajnandini," she said, each word heavy with emotion. Her voice faltered, and then, in a wail of grief, she added, "She is my daughter."The weight of her words sank in slowly, and Pratham's heart pounded as he looked back at the portrait. This was his aunt-a hidden part of his family, veiled in silence and sorrow. The moment stretched, charged with questions and memories buried too long, as the three of them stood there, bound by a story that was only now beginning to reveal itself.