Bhanumati saw her husband like those princes on white horses which fed the fodder to any girl's wild fantasies.
His smile when he had married her, formed constellations of love in the starry darkness of her closed eyelids. Her love for cliche's wasn't unknown to anybody.
Born a princess. A life like a princess. A passionate love from a handsome prince.
That was her wishlist. And then people called her shallow.
But was it too much to ask for?
Better than dreaming of becoming a Queen-like most of her friends.
Little did she know that her husband shall be ever ready to replicate those emotions, which she had not even experienced lest abandoned.
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Duryodhan's expectations from his wife weren't what most of them said. Actually, he never had a clear picture, until he had met Bhanu- oh that's what he liked calling her!
His uncle Shakuni has been quite on matters of love and he was happy with it.
'Wasted potential' was his favorite remark when it came to his marriage, but did he give a flying rat's ass to it?
No.
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'Was your chariot broken, or was it raining heavily, or was it some other discussion more important than me?' Bhanumati's whims were Duryodhan's pride.
When she behaved like that haughty and pride princess who wanted things to be her way, he saw what he has aspired for all his life.
Until you won't ask for it, you won't get it.
'Nothing of that sought, Bhanu!' Duryodhan's voice was a mixture of hymn and spring which could stir the conscious to sleep.
Bhanumati shuddered.
There was she- ALL HIS.
'What was it, may I ask?' Bhanumati's voice was losing its fierceness.
A peck on her nape. A rushed beat, the rustling of leaves and a tear in the eye.- Just excitement.
Bhanumati turned around to look at her husband's flying locks, his hands full of bangles as he rolled a few circles through her gently molded palm.
It wasn't painful at all, but it made her weak in her legs.
Duryodhan's face didn't show, but as he moved his hands to slide the bangles down his wife's wrist it felt that he would burn in self-imposed passion.
What was so high about love?
Why did he feel so out of control, disoriented?
When it happened to him outside his bed-chamber, he felt defeated. He can't give into somebody else's care.
So, he chose his wife. She would be the center to hold all his love, his care, and passion.
When he kissed her, just like he did now- it felt like the burning of both of their hearts, the smoke of heated eagerness to be with each other.
It felt as if they had defeated the world.
That they have fought wars.
And, now- they just lay intoxicated - all over each other.
Maybe, sanity and knowledge were always painful.
Being Feverish- was the new rule to be happy.
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FIN.
