'6 October 1905
Rangpur

Dear Diary,

My country is burning. We, Bengalis, have perhaps woken up, for the first time, to the fact that our beautiful land was indeed to be partitioned. 'Amar Sonar Bangla', never felt more alive...
We are burning too... Our lands, our hearts, our souls!
I was there on the 16th, by Maa Ganga, chanting that holy mantra, Bande Mataram, over and over again, its what keeps me alive these day, and it was then I realised how integral I'm a part of this land.
I can't flee, their country is not mine, and what is mine is precious... I'll forever.... '

The young man dressed in khakhi hunting suit couldn't write anymore, as a cold metalic weapon nudged at his neck from behind. He had dropped the pen, immediately, and had tried to get up from the cane chair of that moderate forest bunglow, and the long piston on the metal gun made him sit in his place again. The young man closed his eyes and started to take deep breaths, calming his nerves down, if this was how his journey was to end, he'd welcome it like a man!
The noises of the dark night had suddenly amplified, the howls and the crickets, making him aware of his existence, he wasn't dead yet, and the disastrous metal pipe was still pressed to his neck.
The young man opened his eyes, and turned around, and the pistol was now on the hollow of his neck.
He stood up, slowly...

It was dark inside, and the bearer of the weapon had a mask, the head had a black turban and the face was covered with its lose cloth, only the eyes were visible. A Thuggee, the bringer of death!  These weren't uncommon in Rangpur, and the young man knew his chances. He clenched his teeth and fisted his hands, but not in defence, but in protest.

"Why are you here?"
His voice was strong.

The silent assailant didn't reply, instead had picked up the half written diary from the small cane table, eyeing the words.

"Leave me...and my diary."
The young man murmured the last two words, as the vanity of imploration to save his insignificant diary to these ruthless illiterate thugs made him chuckle in silence, his mind suddenly filled with a cruel humour.

"Bande Mataram," a soft yet powerful feminine voice had startled the young man, as his mind severed the vague chain of thoughts at once, making him look up at the speaker, his assailant!
"Bande Mataram, if that's what keeps you alive, then you have no fear of death here, in my land."

The young man had furrowed eyebrows, and his black orbs were trying their best to get an outline of the face that stood infront of him, but instead, he saw the eyes... the green ocean deep eyes!

"Princess, the perimeter is clear, no Thuggees around, shall we go check the west of the forest as well?"
The question came from a man's voice, as the female quickly replied, "At once, go ahead, I'll meet you at the riverbank."

'Princess!!'
The young man gasped, now left alone with his mystery attacker, with enchanting eyes!

"Why are you here? The Thuggees would kill anything that looks British...and the deaths aren't pleasant."
The 'Princess' had kept the diary back on the table, the gun too was lowered now, and the young man smiled gently at her question.

"So deaths can be pleasant too?"

"Why not?" The woman was now roaming around the small room, her vigilant eyes always alert of unannounced threats.
"For example, me dying for my country, or you dying in your wife's arms."

The young man chuckled, the initial feeling of hateful fear had taken shape of an inexplicable likability, rather, at that moment her words infact were intriguing him to another awakening.

"So, that would mean I would never have a pleasant death", he sighed in a humour, "I'm not married you see."

The woman now had pulled the cloth down, revealing her face, and the young man touched his chest instinctively, in futile effort of calming his thudding heart.
It was a moment, an instict, an impulse, and the woman saw the young man gasping at her.
She smiled.
She smiled with her eyes even when her lips were still. And the young man thought that smile to be the prettiest thing he had ever seen in a while, for it extends to her eyes and deep into his soul. It felt like a gentle touch, the honesty that was a purity, like the childhood innocence, so vibrant and free.

"You didn't tell me why you're here?" The Princess asked again.

"Doc... Doctrine of..." The young man swallowed, "of Lapse."

Her face had immediately tightened at the mention, as the young man heard her let out a sharp exhale.
"So you're on behalf of the British government?"

"No... No... absolutely not, I'm..." The young man had almost jumped up at the accusation, "I'm a public prosecutor, I'm here to help." He paused to gather his thoughts, muddled once again by the tantalising fragrance of her hair as she removed the turban from her head.
"The king has no sons, and by the law the kingdom is to go to..."

"I'm aware, my brothers are all dead, and my father is in his deathbed." the woman interjected his words and spoke gravely.
"I know I probably have no way out, but I won't give away my land without a fight!"

The young man saw her clenched fist and felt a strange awe at this fiesty determination.
"You are the Princess?" He had gasped again, but not surprised, for the beauty that stood infront can never be any less than a royalty.

"Yes, I'm the one, a Princess of a dying kingdom." She sighed, "but I won't let my people die, what is a kingdom without it's people?"

The young man heard her patiently.
"I have come here to talk to the king, to see if there is any way out, any aversion of this law, but then I got to know about his coma state."

"Do you really think you can help?"

"I can try."

"Yes... Try, but I'll kill you if you fail."
A hint of smile on her lips wasn't hidden from his eyes either.

"Will it be a pleasant death?"

The young man had asked, he felt his heartbeat pounding inside his chest uncontrollably, as the beautiful princess slowly inched closer towards him and held his hand.

"Depends." She smirked. "Take this medallion and see me tomorrow afternoon, at the Rangpur palace."

"Why not morning?" The question felt lame to him, after he had asked it, but he saw her smiling at him instead.

"I too need sleep."

Their eyes had met yet again, and oblivion to the state of the Princess's heart, the young man had already surrendered his soul at her feet, probably in temptation of a pleasant death, as he slowly lifted her hand that had held his, and made her touch his heart.
The Princess gasped.

"Is there a way, a hope?"
Her words were tainted, with supressed emotions, searching desparately a light at the end of a dark eternal tunnel.

The young man too, felt a touch of her emotions.
"Your brothers, do they have a son?"

"No, they weren't married."
Her words were a low whisper.

"What about Raipur?"

The Princess nodded her head.
"My mother is the only child. My grandmother rules there"

"RaaniMaa?"

She nodded again.

"And you?"
The young man asked in a low voice.
"Are you married?"

She looked up at once at his words, her eyes widened with an unknown stupifaction, then, perhaps a realisation.

"I'm not...but..." She muttered, "but if I have a son, IF, then you mean to say I can save my kingdom?"

"Yes." He replied calmly, " the British rule won't be issued if there is a male heir in existence."

Her eyes were shining with hope and gratefulness.
"Thank you, thank you so much."
She had squeezed his hand a little before letting go, and the acute emptiness of the absence of her touch made his heart twitch.

"A wizard? An angel? Who are you?"

The young man saw a glint of moisture in her beautiful emerald eyes, and his heart almost skipped a beat as she parted her lips a little, letting out another soft exhale.

"Ba... Ba... Barrister", he had stuttered, making the Princess look up.

"So, let's do this together, Ba...Ba... Barrister. Let's bend some British laws."

She was smiling, and he stared at her with an amazed, gaping expression.
"Let's do what together? Have a son?" He gulped the words as he saw her mesmerizing eyes rolling at him in a psuedo anger.

"No, let's find someone who can make me have a son, Mr. Ba... Ba... Barrister," her soft laughter rippled in his ears like a cascading melodious waterfall.
"Let's find me a suitor."

She spared a meaningful glance at him, and jumping out of the open window, landing on the edge of the narrow sunshade. The young man, too, had jumped after her, out of the open window, but his feet was still on the balcony, his body bent forward over the railing, holding her hand firmly before she could jump to the ground.
The hands were held together, and she looked up at him, his eyes lowered on her face, and railing was the only barrier.

"What's your name?" He asked, his heart unwilling to let go of the touch, savouring every moment of the warmth.

The Princess had smiled, her eyes reflecting more of it than her lips.
"Sunaina... Satyavati Sunaina."

The young man felt a gush of cold wind ruffling his hair and his heart at the same time, and as the Princess made her jump down, her feet safely touching the ground, he inhaled a lot of fresh cold air, trying desperately to savour the fragrance of her in his breath.

The lurking darkness of the dense forest was still stretched infront of him, the loneliness of this deserted forest bunglow was still echoing in the wind, but the young man was suddenly oblivious to all these, he stood there, by the railing, smiling to his thoughts, before he slowly walked inside the room, without closing the door back, neither the window, for he knew she was there, to save him, from the pangs of unpleasantness deaths, in this life and perhaps in all the lives that he now intended to live.

'Dear Diary,'
He was seated on the cane chair once again, the ink pen in his left hand, and he started to write, not from where he had left, but on a fresh new page.

'The theory of everything says there is never an occurance without a reason. I now, know the reason why I had learnt Barristry, I had never intended to implement my knowledge in practice, until this night, for I have met my true calling.
Met, seen, spoke and touched!
Sunaina... her emerald green eyes are the refuge I would want to seek before the darkness of death engulfs me forever.
Satyavati Sunaina, and in her fearless, clear eyes I've seen the reason of my existence. Dear Diary, I now know, suddenly, that's it's probably not about saving the world, but about saving your own, little by little, and hence diverging the perimeter of your safeguarding, gradually, until the whole world becomes your home. It's still a vague thought, and tonight it's a start... For, I have found my own, my home, my green eyed Princess!

Yours sincerely,
Barrister Trilochan Roy Chowdhury.'