Lotus Blossom IV

For two years the father’s heart remained at peace.

Then came the news.

The call had been sent out. The greatest and the grandest of all Rajput forts was under siege. The sultan of Hindustan led the attack personally. But he was no Hindu. Rajputs from all over the land rallied to the side of their overlord for the preservation of the leading family and the old fort was a cause closest to Rajput hearts.

There was no end to the bad news that kept pouring in.

The defenders were dying.

Why had the emperor gone after them in this manner?

The answer lay in the anguish of a father’s heart. It was her face. Her beauty was to be the ruin of them all.

The end was near.

Twelve-year-old Badal who had accompanied his aunt when she married escaped from the battlefield to be by her side.

She had been at her prayers all night long and now before the first light of dawn could break she had bathed and had dressed as a new bride once again.

She was calm and when she turned to look at him her eyes were unusually dark and lustrous.

The priests had been chanting through the night and now, as they recited from the Gita, the eighteen-year-old queen led the queens, the women and the children to the great fire that had been lit in the Mahasati.

She paused before the blaze.

‘Tell me Badal, tell me once again about my piya?’

’He was the reaper of the harvest of battle. I followed his steps as a humble gleaner of his sword. On the gory bed of honour, he spread a carpet of the slain, a “barbarian” prince his pillow, he has laid himself down and sleeps surrounded by the foe. Oh, mother! How further can I describe his deeds, when he left no foe to dread or admire him.’

The young queen smiled.

‘My lord will chide me for my delay.’