"Dear Diary,

Tonight my Princess is to be married, to someone else.
I can now, without any inhibitions, call her 'Mine', for, I have given myself completely to her. It's not just love that's guiding me, it's more than that... The respect, the admiration, the awe that I share for her, has been all encompassing for me.
Love is not about achievements, it's not about gaining the person, but about sacrificing oneself for the beloved, and tonight, I'm ready for the sacrifice!
I love her, and this truth is the only verity of my existence, even if she can never be mine in the eye of the world... But, I'll always be hers, and she'd be My Princess.

The past two weeks had been a dream, and, dear diary, although my engagements with her on various pursuits have compelled me to make an exception of not writing regularly, tonight I intend to write my heart out.

The memories of riding horses together, seeing her releasing those long menacing arrows from that curved bow, so effortlessly, and reading to her the stories of the world, are still fresh. This has been my life these two weeks.
We have laughed at jokes together, we have sighed at our misfortunes, and everytime, I have felt my heart beating a little more for her, a little too intensely.

Last evening, probably our last together, I had read excerpts from Macbeth to her, and she cried.

...all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player...

Dairy, I can't explain how I felt when I saw her this morning, her golden skin clad in the holy turmeric paste, her eyes had tears. I couldn't do anything... Nothing... for this is her decision, the ultimate decision to sacrifice her own self, killing all her desires, to save her motherland.
I saw an earnest urge in those large green eyes, an urge to never express my love to her, ever again, for it might make her weak, and with that urge, I saw the pain.

I met him too, the priest, Apurbo Sen, his deep set eyes were laced with pain too, the pain of disobeying his forefathers, the pain of deviating from his path of serving the gods. He called me 'brother' today, and I promised him my allegiance.
He was scared, and I could make it out from his face, and when I held his hand...."

Trilochan was interrupted by a sound downstairs, and he closed his diary immediately and shoved it inside the small drawer of his modest study table.

"Who?" He raised his voice. "Who is down there?"
His long hunting gun was hanging on the wall, and he picked it up at once.
"I said who is downstairs?"

No one replied, but then he saw a shadow of a large silhouette infront of his door, standing quietly. Trilochan narrowed his eyes and raised the gun at the shadow, and slowly the man came out of his dark hiding.

"Barrister babu..." He man muttered slowly.

"Naga??"

Trilochan had lowered his gun.

"Come with me, Barrister Babu, downstairs." His voice was gruff, and Trilochan could sense the mixture of fear and sorrow in it.
Trilochan followed him down the narrow staircase.

"What happened, Naga... Why aren't you at the wedding? Why..."

His words remained half finished, and his eyes widened in terror, and then he felt it, the sudden blow, the pain, the fear, all at once.

"Barrister Babu, now?"
Rajan was standing down too, tears were streaming down his eyes.
The huge, gigantic Mahishasur was crying like a baby!

Trilochan closed his eyes and sank down on the ground, his head held in his hands.
"Who all knows?" He asked slowly, his heart wrenching and his stomach retching at the sight infront.

"None!" Naga replied. "Just us, and you."

............................................

Entire Rangpur had gathered inside the open premises of the royal castle. The mammoth dull stone structure had magically turned into a fairyland, decorated beautifully with flowers and lanterns all around, they hung in chains from walls, pillars and even trees, transforming the gloominess inside the castle into a bright pedestal of positivity.
The Princess was to marry; the men and women in her land rejoiced, the children sang and danced, the olds blessed the union with all their hearts, and although, the British officials weren't very pleased with the entire affair, they too, gathered at the castle as per the invitation, to witness this humongous royal union. The novice Barrister appointed by the royal family had already appealed to the
British Raj, intimating them about the wedding, but despite accepting the appeal, the officers thought it would only be appropriate to let their own English Barrister do the paperwork. They had already heard hushed rumours about how this marriage was a sham, and the English Barrister was meant to keep a close eye on the entire affair, judging the legitimacy of every action, every move that takes place in the wedding... as, one wrong move, and the Princess, her alleged made up husband, along with the entire kingdom would go under the Queen's rule, not to mention the lifetime imprisonment that the beautiful princess would be sentenced to... along with so many other things!

The wedding platform was built in the middle of the enormous open courtyard, infront of the ancient RadhaMadhav temple. For centuries, the Royal family had been a patron to the gods, and as per the custom, the bride was to start her new journey post seeking blessings at the feet of the idols, Sri Radha and her beloved Madhav, glorifying the power of eternal love together.

Entire Rangpur gasped in happiness as the Princess finally came down the stairs of the temple, clad in a traditional red Benarasi saree, with golden thread work all over, she didn't wear a blouse, and the red veil drawn below her neck had covered her beautiful face. Her eyes were lowered, hiding tears, and the guests gasped at the sight of the exquisite sapphire jewelleries that adorned her neck, in contrast to her attire. The British officers nudged each other, rolling their eyes in wonder.

"Sapphire!! So the words were true!" One of the officer had hushed as the other nodded in agreement.

"I told you so."

The ambience had a piousness in it. The Royal priests started to chant the holy verses from the Vedas, and the Princess slowly climbed the small steps, and sat on the rectangular wooden seat placed on top of the carpeted alter. She looked ethereal, divine, and was seated in a padmashan, on the raised wedding platform, as if meditating, and the guests gasped at the sight. They gasped again, their heads now turned towards the entrance as they finally saw the man who was meant to fill the vacant seat to her right, their new Raja Saheb!

Conches blew in synchronised harmony, along with ulludhoni, the men gawked and the women touched their hearts, gaping at the sight of the tall fair bearded man walking along the maroon carpet towards the alter. His face was brighter than the moon, his unblemished bare torso was adorned with only the white sacred thread, announcing his high-birth, and the offwhite silk dhoti tied to his waist reached down to his ankle, it's pleats held in his hand as he walked. His long hair was back-brushed, reaching below his neck, and in his left earlobe, he wore a sapphire stud, a sign of royalty.
A sapphire chain adorned his neck as well, and he smiled gently at the waving crowd and slowly approached the alter.

"Raja Apurba Sen!"
The guests gasped at the majestic appearence of the groom.

"Such kingly features! Such a perfect match for our Princess!"
They cheered.

The British officers, however, looked pale. They nudged each other again, clearly unhappy at the futility of the baseless rumours that they had heard about the royal groom.

"You said he'd be an old man?" One of the officers sighed deeply.

"Sorry Sire." The other replied, the Indian one, and after that he just sat silently throughout the wedding, half hearted, counting minutes for the royal feast to begin.

Old or not, it's not that you get to eat at royal weddings everyday, do you?
He condoled himself.

The wedding ceremony had began, and the priests sang the Sanskrit hymns in unison.
Satyavati was weeping silently, relentlessly, her eyes closed, her lips pressed together, quivering, and as the head priest asked her to extend her hand, a soft tear rolled down her reddened cheeks.
This was it! The end of her dreams!
The end of every bit of desire she had ever craved to feel, for this union was the beginning of the colourless life of a hermitress that she had so willingly chosen for herself.
Satyavati sighed softly. Her hand was placed on top of the groom's palm, but the miniscule gap between the two hands remained, for, she had ensured not to taint his priestly holiness by touching him in anyway.
A word is a word!
The head priest had tied their palms together with a white garland, and this holy union was sheathed with a red muslin cloth.
Satyavati silently sniffed a tear, and her groom heard it.
And, then... the divine intervention happened!
To comfort his weeping bride, the groom had bridged the gap between their hands, and now his hand squeezed her soft palm gently, almost making her jump in astonishment.

Why was Apurba Sen squeezing her hand?
Satyavati shivered, and then she felt it again, and this time, it had sent sparks down her spine.
This touch was known to her... This hand, those fingers... She had felt them before!

"Don't cry, please." The groom leaned a little towards her and hushed, and all Satyavati could do was gasp and tremble, her heart pounding faster than light could travel.

'How? Why?'
Her eyes had questioned him silently, as he smeared the holy red vermillion on her parted hairline. Satyavati raised her eyes and looked at him, just one glance.
He looked different, with long hair and full beard, but his eyes are the safe, soft, tender, full of love... She trembled, for her eyes had recognised him in a heartbeat... Barrister Trilochan Roy Chowdhury!

"Raja Saheb, please repeat after me." The head priest urged the groom, and he nodded politely.
"I, Sriman Apurba Sen, son of Giridhari Sen, gothram...."

The groom closed his calm bright eyes and folded his hands together in a prayer, exactly as requested by the priest, and then, he silenty repeated the pledge mantra after him.

'I, Sriman Trilochan Roy Chowdhury, son of Trailokkhonath Roy Chowdhury, gothram Sandilya....' he continued.

.....................

The oil lamp inside the modest forest Bunglow was showering a steady golden light, and infront of it sat Trilochan Roy Chowdhury, wearing the offwhite silk dhoti. His body was bare, and his forehead had a red vermillion tilak on it.
He sighed, and pulled out a small framed photograph from the drawer, a picture of a happy family smiling back at him.

"Forgive me Baba." He murmured.

The window was kept open intentionally, and he felt her arrival inside his room.
It was like a gush of cold breeze, but tonight, his heart was too full to acknowledge the surprise element of her entrance.

"Why?"

He heard her growl, and felt the cold blade of the large metal sword touching his neck. Trilochan turned around.

"Princess, I knew you'd come." He spoke softly, his eyes on her angelic face. It was like the first night, their first meeting, but the anticipation had changed into a comfortable calmness, and instead of the black cloak, she now wore her red wedding Benarasi, her forehead smeared with his vermillion.
Satyavati had held a long sword in her right hand, as with her left she brushed her nose, smudging the vermilion that had settled on her nose.
Trilochan smiled at the sight.

"Why did you do it?" Her words were more of a heartfelt wail than a commanding question, and Trilochan got up slowly from the chair.

"This is my mother." He held the framed picture infront of her and pointed towards a woman. "And, thats my father. This is Dada, then Boroboudi, and that's the apple of my eye, Anirudh." He swallowed a lump and cleared his throat.

"Why did..."
Satyavati whispered, tears were flooding down her eyes.

"Because, this was the only way." He replied calmly. "I'm sorry I couldn't seek your permission Princess, but there wasn't any other way."

"What do you mean?"
Satyavati whimpered, making Trilochan sigh. He ran his fingers over the glass of the photo frame and kept it back, instead he picked up the small diary from the table.

"Come with me." He urged.

The narrowed wooden staircase was devoid of any light, and Satyavati held her saree a little up and walked slowly, following his trail, her sword shining in her hand.
And, as they reached down, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Naga? Rajan? What are you do..."

She couldn't finish her words as in the light of the fuming fire torch that Rajan had held, she saw a grotesque sight... the sight of a dead man, his body half eaten by some demon of hell.

"ThakurMoshaiii....!!"
Satyavati screamed...The sword had already fallen from her hand, and her knees gave in, but before she could collapse down on the floor, her husband held her in his strong arms.

"He had probably gone to pay a visit to his ancestral gods, in Raipur this morning." He spoke slowly.

"Burodighi temple, at the border of Raipur jungal." Naga added.
"And, was attacked by a tiger, we think." Rajan murmured.
"And, sensing his delay, we had gone to look for him, and then..."

Satyavati Sunaina was in shock, she was seated on the flood, along with Trilochan, and he had held her in his arms.

"You... You sacrificed? For me?"
Her words were a sobbed whisper.
"But the British Raj? If they know... Why? Why did you....?"

"Because I told him so!"
A firm female voice spoke up, emerging slowly from the dark, and the Princess wiped her foggy eyes and looked up.

"Rani maa??" She gasped, for inside the room, stood her grandmother, the regent queen of Raipur.

"Trilochan Babu is the only outsider whom no one knows. And, no one knew Apurba either. And, it's only befitting for him to marry you... You needed to marry a MAN, Sunaina!"
The queen spoke gravely.

Satyavati turned her head and looked up at Trilochan, and he smiled at her gently.
"No one forced me, if that's what you are thinking."

The queen gestured Trilochan and he took his new bride out of the cottage. The queen came out too, standing a little away from the newly wedded couple.
Satyavati was still weeping, and Trilochan stood quietly beside her.

"But, but what if they find out? The British?"

"They won't." Trilochan raised his hand and pointed his index towards the cottage, and the Princess noticed a small flicker of fire fuming inside.
She gasped loudly, and infront of their eyes, in no time, the fire consumed the entire cottage, along with the Banyan tree beside it.

"Barrister Trilochan Roy Chowdhury died in this fire tonight, Princess." Trilochan sighed.
"And, this man standing infront of you is Apurba Sen, your husband."

Satyavati looked up, her emerald green eyes met his steady brave gaze, and then she dropped down to his knees, her head buried in his feet.

"I'm... I'm indebted... I'm..."

Trilochan pulled her up gently, holding her shoulders in a loving embrace.
"No you're not... You know why?" He smiled at her. "Because... Because, I love you."

........................................................

No one noticed the tragic death of the young Barrister that night. But, what they noticed was the sudden change in the bride's demeanour. She smiled and blushed, and sat through the Ramleela play throughout her Kaalratri!

The groom was there too, with his kingly presence, and everyone in the land praised their union.
Neither Satyavati, nor her husband spoke to each other until fulsojja, and then on the awaited night, as she entered their wedding chamber dressed as a blushing bride, he had tugged at her arm, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"What about your family?" She spoke first.

"I wrote to them, they now know I'm in Africa, and would never return back."

"What? Africa!" She widened her eyes, and then smiled.

If smile could bring back the dead! Trilochan thought. His heart fluttering violently at the close proximity of her presence.

"And, that beard? And the hair?" She had pouted her lips at him in a loving complaint.

"I'll grow them, give me a week."

"The sapphire looks good on you." She hushed. "We have a mine in our land, that's why the British..."

"I understand." He held her chin up.

"And, what about Naga's wife?"
She pressed her lips together mischievously.

"What about Naga's wife?"

Trilochan frowned at her question. But then, instead of asking her the meaning, he just scooped her up from the carpeted floor, carried her towards the large flower-clad bed, and made her sit on it.

"Well, she promised her son to me, and..."

Trilochan now realised the reference. He smirked at her and pulled her towards him, making her fall on his chest. She was on top of him, and he lay back on the bed.

"Oh, yes, about that..."
He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face closer, enough for him to touch her lips with his.
Satyavati closed her eyes, and without any warning, he flipped her on the bed, with his body aligned on top of her now, hovering over her face with a grave expression. His hands had pinned her arms on either side of her face.

"A small compromise Princess", he hushed into her mouth, seductively. "Instead of your seven month secret adoption plan, we'll now have to stick to the regular."

"The regular?" She gasped at his words, a sharp sweep of desire had filled her core with an urgency to feel his love.

"Ten months." He kissed her lips, " minimum..." His hands removed the saree covering her bosoms, "Provided, we start right now!"

The fragrent air felt thick with the feeling between them, as if their heat had filled the room, a room full of carnal desires and sensuous submissions. Both her hands had clenched the bedsheet and tiny specks of her scarlet chastity had tainted their wedding bedsheet with its sensuality.
Their eyes were closed, and they both experienced the indescribable ecstasy and delirium as their body melted into one.

"Fill me up...."
She had screamed, her body squeaking underneath him, and he moaned out loud, giving in to his Princess's command.

"I love you!" He panted.

.................................................................

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