Bhanumati sat on an enormous bed, clad in red. Today was the first time she felt the hues of red adorning different parts of her- especially the middle partition of her well-bunned hair. Her husband- the eldest of the King of Hastinapur, and a Yuvraj to this kingdom, was a handsome man- or that was all she could see for the time being.
He talked gently to her. 'Let me hold your hand.' He had courteously asked her while entering the gates of Hastinapur.
let me hold your hand.
And hold it forever
Till we walk far away, in the gorge of hell or heaven.
A sudden coldness ran through her spine, as the clouds outside rumbled and thundered, full of rain and water. Her red hands dipped in alta, covered her eyes in fear and anticipation of the sudden noise as she moved ahead to draw the curtains.
Hell did cry when he was born. Nothing seemed normal.
But, but I love him.
The desire to be with her man was blazing like a flame that she didn't give feed to any rumors. If they shall, they shall haunt her later. But right now, the soothing breath of the man who surrendered his ego on her chest, lied across her- as the passionate clouds burst to celebrate their union.
Thunder was the new psithurism to her.
PS. Psithurism- is the rustling of leaves or trees due to gentle winds.
