The Lost Princess

Prologue

Vikram frowned at the scroll that he was reading. His king had summoned him for some sort of discussion that did not include any of his brightest courtiers.

Vikramaditya, mostly called vikram by both friends and foes was an infamous man for his temper in pujaini. Son of Ajeet bharadvaja, a famous bard, fondly known for his poetry and beautiful voice, he didn't acquire any of his father's traits. On his tenth birthday, on the way to his grandmother's house in ekavarta, bandits attacked his family. They left behind blood and bone in their wake. He escaped somehow, his body intact but his heart a broken, bleeding organ that kept him alive for so long. His innocence was marred by cruelty leaving him alert and agile every second of his life. And as the wheel of time progressed, with the help of his prowess in warfare, he ended up being the commander of the armies of pujaini. He should have been content. He had everything now. Power, wealth and a steady number of marriage proposals that would've helped him to settle down. A man of twenty three summers isn't, shouldn't, be ready for marriage, and was his only excuse to escape matrimony. And now, the king had summoned him privately. Vikram was curious. There weren't any attacks or threats from the neighbouring kingdoms. Then what was it that troubled the king? An assassin? A vishakanya, poison maiden? Definitely not. He had doubled the security in the palace and posted a few troops of soldiers in the city. One troop patrolled during the day, one during twilight hour and the other during the dark hours of night.

The guards who stood by the entrance of the dharma hall, the court of the king, bowed deeply to show their respect. Giving them a brisk nod, vikram entered the court room. Silence met his ears, and an empty room met his sight. Medium sized thrones for his courtiers flanked the podium of the throne on either sides in a circular style. Soft diwans were placed on either sides of the room, meant for the people when they came with their issues, worries and happiness. On the throne sat, the king deeply lost in his universe of questions and worries that brought out the strained lines on his forehead. At fifty three summers, he seemed stressed and tired. Almost every maharaja in aryavarta set out for the forests to spend the last few years when they were of his age. But something held him back. Some force propelled him, trapped him on the throne.

Vikram bowed deeply to show his respect. The movement distracted Raja Mohan Chandra from his deep archives of thoughts. Gracing vikram with a strained yet warm smile he beckoned him closer with his hand. Vikram climbed up the stairs of the podium and sat by the king's feet. Embarrassed, mohanchandra shook his head.

'Do not sit by feet commander. It insults me.' And makes me embarrassed. He wanted to add. Vikram nodded as he got up. Mohanchandra clapped his hands, summoning a handmaiden who was to fan him while he talked to vikram. But suspicion is a poison that does not let you be. When she placed a bronze stool by the throne for vikram to sit on and picked up a large fan made with cloth and peacock feathers to fan her king. With a wave of his hand he dismissed her and from the corner of his eye waited for her to exit the dharma hall so that he could start his conversation in peace. When he was sure that she was gone he let out a reined in sigh.

'What is it that troubles you majesty? Everything is fine.'

The raja shook his head with grave eyes, mirrors, reflecting a churning disturbed sea ready to unleash a tsunami. 'Everything isn't fine, vikram. And you know it.'

Vikram raised an eyebrow, puzzled. 'You know of my illness do you not?'

He schooled his features into neutrality. 'Of course I do. But the Vaidya said that you were...'

'He said I was fine. But to be honest I haven't gotten many years left here.'

Vikram was moved by a sad look in the monarch's eyes.

'What must I do? Surely you haven't summoned me for no reason?'

Mohanchandra chuckled. 'Of course. Once I retire, skanda will take my place. I have decided to announce his coronation.'

Vikram smiled. His best friend would soon be king and he as the commander would not leave an opportunity to serve him even for a second.

'That is good news. But what troubles you? Surely it's not just your health.'

Mohanchandra shook his head. 'No. it's the princess.'

Once again, he raised a puzzled eyebrow. 'Princess? Which one? Is it...princess neelakshi?'

'Yes, one of my five daughters.'

'Are you planning to hold a Swayamvar for her?' somewhere in his mind, an image rose like smoke from an incense stick. His best friend's bratty, stubborn younger sister who always had her head in the clouds and claimed that she could hear the trees and flowers speak to her.

Vikram pitied the man that would wed her.

'No. not yet at least. You know of how I...found her?'

Vikram nodded. Once long ago pujaini's sister city, Mayakosh, was prosperous with flourishing fields, flowering trades and blooming with happiness. But something dark lurked in the shadows. Mysteriously the whole city, went up in flames. Three days later when the fire died down, defeated by relentless rain, mohanchandra rushed to the city. Aghast, he realized that life no longer prevailed. Just when he was about to leave the palace surroundings, the wail of a baby resonated from the temple in the palace. When he rushed forth, he found a new-born lying on the floor, surrounded by hot embers and burnt wood used for yajna. He was shocked. The fire hadn't touched the child. He wondered how she survived. Picking her up and safely draping his shawl around her he walked out of the temple. Miracle child, some called her. Yet most feared her. How could a defenceless, helpless baby escape the chasms of death and destruction? Once he fed her some milk painstakingly, she slept for thirteen days. Worried, he stayed by the child's cradle, afraid if lord Yama, the god of death would take her away. His courtiers soon began worrying. Mohanchandra soon started neglecting his royal duties. People began to become restless. On the fourteenth day, when dusk began to touch landscapes of the city, urging the sun to soon sink down, the princess gurgled. The raja sat up quickly and peered into the cradle near him. Imagine his bafflement as the rosy, chubby cheeked child looked up at him with her sapphire blue gaze. Her eyes, were unlike any other. It shined like a jewel and soon he wanted keep looking into her eyes. So, soon the princes earned her name. Neelakshi-the blue eyed maiden. Blue eyes weren't common in aryavarta. It seemed unreal, unnatural. Growing up, she did not have many friends and the only people she talked to were prince skanda, raja mohanchandra and her dhai maa. She was often a prankster and kept most of the handmaidens on their toes. What could she have done? Thought vikram.

'She doesn't have my blood, yet I love her very much. And so I have taken a very difficult decision.' The raja fell silent soon, pain evident in his eyes.

'What is it your majesty?'

He took a deep breath. 'I am going to banish her from pujaini.'