Leela.

In Reminiscence

Since the time of the Bhansalis, India has strived for perfection. A judgement without flaw.

Something that they never accomplished, due to the never ending civil wars, or the unforgettable strifes. Then when it got so bad, people started putting up reminiscent fingers towards the time of Karan Singh, a time when the wretched East India Company didn't exist.

That was the time of Leela Bhansali, beauty without limits. The ultimate crime of Rajput.

"Leela, the emperor ordered for your presence!" One of the chambermaids came in to inform her, her apron blackened with the ashes of the common fire.

Leela dropped the bouquet she was making for Drishya Singh, the king's daughter to go meet his majesty.

Leela was the the granddaughter of Madari Singh, niece to the emperor Karan Singh. She was royalty, and rightfully the heir to the throne, but Drishya Singh's step mother made sure she never had to see that.

Treated like one of the workers in the Palace of Rajput, she had but one complaint. Her mother had been killed, forced to jump into the burning pyre of her husband, Mohnish Singh.

Traditions and their twists.

"Uncle, have you asked for me?" Dutiful, she stood in front of the throne, bowing ever so slightly to her uncle.

Mithran, the trustworthy servant of the emperor, stood to his side, watching her with intense eyes.

"Stupid girl, don't you have manners? Degrading the king in front of the court assembled here?" Shruti Manshi, the King's second mistake this life.

"Sorry Sahiba."

"Leela, there are guests coming over today. Will you tell the house staff to prepare a feast for 20?"

"Yes, sire." And with that note, she took his majesty's leave.

At least, I have Drishya, she thought to herself, and kept walking to the Palace Kitchen, wiping her face off the humiliation and earnest tears.

On the way, Drishya ran towards Leela, screaming her 4 year old voice out.

Something had happened.
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The king stood over the lifeless body of Arjun, his only male son, and heir to the throne.

His fists were clenched, eyes bloodshot, and tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked over at Leela, and asked, his voice trembling with rage,

"Do you know..."

Mithran looked over, from the king to Leela and back. He had known Leela since she was born, and they shared the rare friendship between the elderly and young that often went missing with age.

"No uncle, it was Drishya here who saw it first, and came to tell me. I'm sorry." Her voice trembling.

The body of the son had been carefully lain straight, his neck broken, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Order for a palace wide search, and interrogate everyone. If you even get a sniff of doubt, maybe, I want that persons body in the river Kali by tonight!"

Leela had gone to a corner, comforting Drishya, she had so dearly loved her brother.

The only person unstirred by all of this was her highness Manshi itself. Her calm and lucid tone remained the same as ever, and god forbid she didn't shed a single tear over the dear departed.

Leela tried to keep track of whatever was happening around the house, but that was hard to do with Drishya trying to slip into depression.

How much should a fourteen year old have to deal with, after all?
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