On the day of departure, Nanny Kamla stood in the doorway with a bright smile, declaring, "Here you go!" as she placed a massive, one-meter-tall bag on the ground with a soft thud. This bag was stuffed to the brim with a variety of items that she insisted Vishwa might need for his time away.
Vishwa's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the enormous bag. He choked on the tea he had just taken a sip of, causing it to spill all over himself. "How do you think I will carry that monstrosity around with me?" he exclaimed, wiping the tea from his shirt.
"Hey bhagwaan (God), you idiot! Now I have to get a new dress for you," Nanny Kamla exclaimed with a shake of her head, clearly exasperated. Without missing a beat, she darted up the stairs, calling back over her shoulder, "Figure it out yourself!"
Left alone, Vishwa glanced down at his frail physique before turning his gaze back to the giant bag that now loomed large in front of him. 'At least it's got wheels under it,' he thought, trying to find a silver lining in the situation.
Moments later, Nanny Kamla returned, and as she was fiddling with something in her hands, Vishwa took the opportunity to voice his defiance. "I'm not wearing those," he stated firmly as he caught sight of what she was holding.
"You can't wear your usual Prince clothes, so get changed," she replied without hesitation, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Kamla Bai..." he started to reason.
"Shhh..." she cut him off, swiftly removing his shirt before handing him a rugged brown half-shirt that seemed completely at odds with his usual attire.
Vishwa looked down at the half-shirt in disbelief. "I would prefer the stained full shirt before this," he replied, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
"Absolutely not. You will clean that up when you get there. Now finish your breakfast," Nanny Kamla instructed, her voice firm and final.
Feeling defeated, Vishwa pushed himself to eat, but his mind wandered. "You know, Kamla Bai, I decided two things after reading the books," he finally spoke, his voice quieter now, hinting at the weight of his thoughts.
"Yeah, what's that?" she prompted, intrigued.
"First, I don't want to participate in the throne succession. It's just full of bloodshed. Almost every King in history has killed his own brother. Even my father killed his elder brother, the 164th King," he shared, bitterness creeping into his tone as he spoke.
Nanny Kamla interjected, "You're not eligible anyway."
Vishwa shot her a glare before continuing, "I like my father, but why did he have to kill every silver-haired child under the age of ten instead of finding a solution to protect them from demon possession? So, the second thing is-I will always look for alternatives before resorting to violence."
A haunting memory flitted through Nanny Kamla's mind-the terrifying declaration of the 164th King: 'I want to find alternatives first, or will you kill me too because of my hair?'
"Both are the same," Nanny Kamla murmured under her breath, contemplating the tragic past.
"Huh!" Vishwa replied, confused by her words.
Nanny Kamla cleared her throat, trying to shift the tone. "You did a good job on learning history," she acknowledged, a hint of pride seeping into her voice.
"Okay..." Vishwa replied, feeling a strange flutter of discomfort at being praised by her.
"And remember not to trust others as those villagers." She warned, while he nodded his head; clearly brushing her words off.
YOU ARE READING
Genesis of the Soul
FantasyPrince Vishwa, with distinctive silver hair, lives in seclusion, concealed by his mother to protect him from his tyrannical father, the king. The king targets silver-haired people, fearing for his life due to an oracle. Vishwa seeks acceptance from...
