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Trishalini POV

Agar dil ke tootne ki awaaj hoti, to ek do Pralay Mahabaleshgarh me bhi aayi hoti

If there had been a noise of a breaking heart, then Mahabaleshgarh would have seen a few floods.

I was numb.

Not because it was raining hard on a chilly night but because I did not know whom to hold first.

"Raj!" Maasa screamed, shaking Baapusa's body.

My feet froze, unable to step ahead.

Daadisa had fallen to the floor, and her attendees were trying to hold her.

He was no more.

Baapusa left us.

"Raj! Please wake up. You did not promise this to me. Raj!!" Maasa cried, unable to control her, and I inhaled deeply.

The tears rolled down my cheeks, and I felt a lump in my throat.

"Daadisa," I breathed, finally moving to her.

Kneeling, I tried to hold her.

"Daadisa, please hold yourself," I tried to say, and she shook her head, breaking into the cries.

"kese sambhale, Trisha, kese sambhale? Jis umar me hame arthi par hona chahiye us umar me apne putra ka antim sanskar karna pad raha hai,"

"How can I? Trisha, How can I? At that age, I should be lying on the pyre; I am seeing my son die," she cried out, and I immediately broke into cries and hugged her.

"Please, Daadisa, your health will worsen," I tried to say, and she shook her head.

"Raj! Please wake up, Raj. You cannot leave me alone here. I left everything for you, including my only brother. There is no one for me here, Raj. Please, wake up. Raj! Do not leave me alone like this, please." Maasa's screams caught my attention, and I pulled my trembling fingers away from Daadisa and walked towards her.

"Maasa," my voice hung in my throat, and the moment she hit her fists on his chest and broke her bangles, I broke into cries.

"Maasa, please hold yourself," I tried to say, holding her shoulders, and she shook her head.

"Raj! Please, please, your grandchildren are here. Do not leave them alone with no memory of yours. You brought them here and now, leaving us alone. You cannot do this to them; you cannot do it to me," she cried uncontrollably, and I held her shoulder tightly and pulled her closer to me, hugging her.

"Trisha! Do something. Ask him to take me with him, Trisha. Tell him that he cannot leave me alone here. I want to die, Trisha; I want to die, too," her voice was muffled, and I broke into more cries, shaking my head.

"No, Maasa, we all need you; please do not say it like this," I tried to say, but she was getting out of control.

"Raj! You cannot do this to me. You cannot do this to Maa Saheb, your sister, and your children. You cannot leave us, Raj. You cannot," her cries echoed in the whole chamber, and I could not help but fall to my knees, seeing Baapusa lying lifeless.

His eyes were closed, and his face had lost the tint of blood.

"Baapusa," I heard Abhi mutter in a low voice and gently shake his hand.

"What happened to him?" he asked, looking at the physician who stepped closer to Baapusa.

I broke into cries and did not know who to hold.

Daadisa was lying on the floor. Maasa was out of control, and Abhi did not react.

"I am sorry, Maharaj, he is no more," the physician said, and I closed my eyes.

A deep pain coursed through my body. The memory of him sitting on the couch, coughing and asking me to meet Abhi replayed in my mind.

"You are joking," Abhi chuckled, and I opened my eyes to look at him.

"Abhi," I cried out and tried to walk towards him. He looked up at me and laughed.

"Trisha," he muttered and just stared blankly at me for a few moments. I shook my head slowly and tried to place my hand on his shoulder.

"Raj!" Maasa cried even more, and suddenly he stood up from the bed.

"Abhi," I muttered, trying to call him. But he walked past me, and I immediately walked after him.

"Where are you going?" I asked, and he looked at me with a flat face.

"I have to send a few letters," he muttered, and just by hearing him, something broke in me.

I did not understand it.

He wanted to send the letters at this time.

Turning back, I ran towards Maasa and asked a few attendees to look after her.

Then, I ran to Daadisa and helped her stand up and sit on the couch.

Meenakshi came running to me.

"Maharani, the children are crying," she said, and I inhaled deeply as I looked at my broken family.

Until yesterday, everyone was happy, everyone was laughing, and today, it felt like someone sucked up the soul of my family.

"Look after here, I will be back," I ordered Meenakshi and ran to my chamber. The children were alone with a few attendees, and I immediately sat down on the bed and began to pat them gently.

They would not stop crying, and I did not know what my husband was going through.

He did not even cry. Not a single tear.

"Hey, my babies, calm down, please," I tried to say, though my tears were not stopping. And I knew that they could feel their mother.

"Stop!" I breathed shakily and put them into my lap, gently caressing their heads.

But they would just cry even louder.

Inhaling a deep breath, I bit on my trembling lips and quickly undid my blouse to feed them.

"Shhh! Calm down," I muttered and broke into cries.

I could not think of anything. I was numb. I did not know what to say or do.

My only family was my father, and despite being brought up with great difficulty, I never dealt with death.

"Where is Maharaj?" I asked, turning back and asking an attendee.

Everyone was breaking down.

"I do not know, Maharani," she replied and I closed my eyes for a moment.

I reminded myself that this was not the time to be weak. I had to hold on to my family to strengthen them.

After drinking the milk, the babies went to sleep, and I put them on the bed and asked the attendees to take care of them and not let anyone meet them.

But, it did not seem enough.

I did not know why everything felt wrong.

At this moment, anything could happen.

"Could you call for Commander Ashwin?" I asked, as he was the only one I could trust at this moment.

The attendee nodded, and within a few moments, he came running. His eyes were swollen, so I put the dupatta on my head.

I had already changed into the day clothes, even in the middle of the night.

"Ji, Maharani?" he asked, and I lowered my gaze for a moment and inhaled deeply to speak out.

"Could you look after the Princes?" I asked, and he gulped, nodding calculatedly.

"It's just that I cannot trust anyone about their safety," I clarified, and he nodded.

"I understand," he said, and I walked out of the chamber and ran back to the Baapusa's chamber.

All the royals, officials, and nearby friends gathered there.

Maasa and Daadisa was in shock. Their tears had dried up, and I signaled an attendee to come to me.

"Ji, Maharani?" she asked.

I ordered, "Get water for everyone," and walked out to gather the attendees. I called Meenakshi, too.

"Get the guest chambers ready, clean up the halls, and start with tomorrow's meal," I ordered, and the ladies divided the work among themselves.

"Where is Maharaj?" I asked, and everyone looked at each other and shook their heads.

"We do not know, Maharani," they replied, and I signaled them to leave.

My heart was sinking.

Where was he?

He should be here.

The attendees with the water arrived, and I held the tray in my hand and went to Maasa and Daadisa. They both were crying on the bed.

"Daadisa, Maasa," I called in a low voice and sat beside them. Daadisa looked up at me, but Maasa sat unmoved.

"Have some water, Daadisa," I muttered, taking the glass near her, and tears rolled down her cheek.

Shaking her head, she muttered in a breaking voice. "I am not feeling like, Trisha,"

"Please, Daadisa, your health will worsen," I tried to say and helped her drink a few sips of water.

And, suddenly, she broke into cries. I immediately hugged her tightly.

"He should have lived for a little longer, Trisha," she cried uncontrollably, and I could not stop myself from breaking into cries.

"I know, Daadisa. But nothing works in front of destiny. He was in pain, daadisa. He was in so much pain," I muttered and pulled back, washing Daadisa's tears.

She turned to look at Baapusa, and I closed my eyes for a moment.

"Maasa," I called out slowly, taking a glass of water towards Maasa.

She sat still, not even blinking her eyes.

"Maasa, have some water," I muttered and took the glass closer to her mouth. She looked up at me and shook her head.

"I do not need anything," she replied in a flat voice and closed her eyes.

My heart sank deeper seeing her, and I excused myself a little to search for him.

Where was he?

After walking out of the chamber, I went to his chamber. It was dark, and as I stepped in, I noticed him sitting on the couch.

He was leaning over the table and writing something.

"Abhi," I muttered and inhaled deeply. The tears rolled down my cheeks freely as I stepped closer to him.

My feet felt weak, taking steps towards him.

He did not move, so I walked closer and saw him writing a letter.

"Abhi," I called again and stepped closer before sitting on my knees and placing my hand on his thighs.

"What are you doing? Abhi," I asked in a low and breaking voice, and he just ignored me and kept writing the letter.

I turned my gaze to the letter and noticed it was addressed to the King of a Kingdom.

"Abhi," I muttered again, and he kept writing silently.

I blinked nervously, stepping closer and touching his chin to make him look at me.

"Abhi, what are you doing?" I asked, breaking into the cries, and he looked into my eyes. His eyes were red.

"I am doing what a Samrat should do. Informing the Kingdoms and relatives," he said, and the tears rolled down my cheek.

"Why?" I asked, breaking into cries, and he lowered his gaze.

"Because I am a King, and that is what everyone expects me to do," he said, and I shook my head.

"Not at this time," my voice stuck in my throat, and I made him look back at me.

"Abhi, your father is dead," I muttered, and I noticed him breathe profoundly and nod slowly.

"I know. He was going to," he said and looked away from me before suddenly standing up.

I stood up to my feet, too.

"Abhi," I tried to say, but he immediately clapped twice, and an attendee walked in.

"In sabhi patro ko sheeghra hi pohuchaya jaye. Suyragarh me sandesh sabse pehle,"

"Send all these letters as soon as possible. Send the letter to Suryagarh first,"

He said, and he handed the letters to him.

"Or dhyan rahe, patra Rana Rudra Dev Singh ko milna chahiye, Rani Nandani ko nahi,"

"And keep in mind that the letter should be received by Rana Rudra Dev Singh, not Queen Nandani," he added, and I could not help but break into more tears.

The attendee walked out, received the letters, and clapped again.

Another attendee walked in before him.

"Call all the head priests," he ordered, and I lowered my gaze and stepped closer to him.

"Abhi, listen to me, please,"

He looked into my eyes. They held the pain and strangely seemed really dangerous.

"What?" he asked, and I just blinked silently with disbelief.

What happened to him?

Not even a single tear.

"Your father..." I breathed, breaking into the cries, and stepped closer to hold his hand.

"Abhi, ek ashru to baha lo,"

"Abhi, at least let a tear roll down," I muttered, and he stared deeply into my eyes.

"Baapusa hamesha see chahte the ki hum ek ache Samrat bane, apne kartavya poore kare or Hind ko ek dhaage me piro de, unki mrityu par aansu bahakar unke sapne or aakhri icha ka apmaan nahi kar sakte hum,"

"My father always wanted me to become a great Samrat, fulfill all the responsibilities, and unite all the Kingdoms of Hind. By shedding tears on his death, I cannot insult his last wishes and dreams," he said in a low and dangerous tone, and I could not help but feel scared of him at this moment.

"Abhi, aap sirf ek Samrat jesi baate kyu kar rahe hai? Aap ek putra bhi to hai, or pita ki mrityu par shok manane se unka gaurav kam nahi hoga,"

"Abhi, why are you talking like a Samrat alone? You are a son too, and shedding tears on father's death will not decrease the glory of your father," I tried to say, and he clenched his jaw and looked deeply into my eyes.

"Putra vo hota hai, jiske pita jeevit ho. Jiske pita nahi, vo putra nahi, vo keval ek manushya hai, or jab hum putra nahi to keval Samrat hai, or ye hamara Samrajya hai. Mrityu par sabhi rajya ke Raja upasthit honge, rishtedaar aaenge, hum... kamzor nahi pad sakte,"

"A son is someone whose father is alive. If one's father is no longer alive, he is no longer a son; he is simply a man. And when I am no longer a son, I am only an emperor, and this is my empire. At death, all the kings of the kingdoms will be present, and relatives will arrive, but I... cannot show weakness," he muttered, and I could not help but lower my gaze.

More tears rolled down my cheeks, and I shook my head.

"Abhi, mrityu par shok ka adhikar to Samrato ko bhi hai naa. Or fir... vo to aapke pita hai,"

"Abhi, the Emperors also have the right to mourn the deaths. And, he... he is your father," I said, looking up into his eyes.

He gulped, and I saw a lone tear roll down his cheek.

Shaking his head, he looked away.

"Hume koi adhikar nahi, Jab pita ki parchayi sir se uth jae to putra ko pita ki jagah leni hoti hai, jeevan ka yahi niyam hai, or Samrato ka ashru bahana unki kamzori ko dikhata hai,"

"I have no right. When the shadow of the father is lifted from the son's head, he must take the father's place. This is the rule of life, and an emperor shedding tears shows his weakness," he muttered, and I stepped closer, took my trembling fingers closer to the side of his waist, and tried to place my head on his chest.

His breathing was deep, and I said.

"Aap hamare Samrat nahi. Or jab aap hamare Samrat hi nahi to kamzori kesi? Aapke pita aapke do meethe bol ke liye taras gaye. Unki mrityu par aapke ashruo ka adhikar hai unhe. Vo aap unse nahi cheen sakte. Aap Samrat honge sabke liye, lekin unke liye aap sirf putra hai. Unhe unka adhikar dijiye Abhi. Itne kadhor mat baniye,"

"You are not my emperor. And when you are not my emperor, why is there weakness? Your father longed for a few kind words from you. He deserves your tears at his death. You cannot take that right away from him. You may be an emperor to everyone, but to him, you are only a son. Give him his due now. Do not be so harsh," I tried to say, and he gently pushed me away and shook his head.

I broke into cries, looking up into his eyes.

"Vo hume putra se jyada ek Rajkumar samajhte the,"

"He considered me a Prince more than a son," he said, and I immediately pushed him away with anger.

"Kya ho gaya hai aapko? Aapki khushi ke liye sab kuch kiya unhone. Apni pagdi take utar di hamare saamne. Or kya chahte hai aap. Itni jiddi kyu hai aap. Itne jiddi kyu hai aap?"

"What has happened to you? He did everything for your happiness. He even removed his turban before me. What more do you want? Why are you so stubborn? Why are you being this stubborn?" I raised my breaking voice and fell to my knees.

"Hume bhot kaam hai,"

"I have a lot of things to do," he said, and I heard his footsteps walk away. Closing my eyes, I broke into cries.

I could not see him like this.

"Abhi, bhagwaan ke liye ro lijiye. Ye jakhm nasoor ban jaega. Hum nahi seh paenge, Abhi!"

"Abhi, for God's sake, please cry. This wound will fester if you do not. I would not be able to bear it, Abhi!" I cried, but he walked out of there.

My heart ached even more.

I could not see him ending himself like this.

Why?

Why God?

Why did you have to kill his innocence like this?

Why are you doing this to him?

"Maharani," Meenakshi's voice caught my attention, and I felt her hands on my shoulder.

"You have to hold yourself. You cannot be losing yourself at this moment," she said, washing tears off my cheek.

I gulped, closing my eyes for a moment.

"How is Daadisa and Maasa?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"Not stopping to cry," she answered, and I tried to stand up and wash my tears.

"The guests are arriving," she informed me, and I closed my eyes and nodded.

"Prepare for the food and water," I ordered, and she nodded and walked away.

I also went out and went out to the Maasa and Baapusa's chambers.

Seeing the priest beginning the last rites, my heart sank deeper. Everyone was crying, and Maasa was losing herself.

And he just stood there, giving orders to the attendees.

What was going on in his mind?

I could not see him like this.

I had to do something.

Walking away, I went back to my chamber and found Ashwin taking care of the babies. The babies were sleeping, so I walked to them and looked at Ashwin.

"Aap hamara ek karya karenge?"

"Can you do something for me?" I asked him, and he rose from the couch and nodded.

"Ji, Maharani," he answered, and I looked at the babies.

"Go to Maharaj and tell him that the kids are crying," I said, and he knit his brows with confusion.

"Maharani?" he asked, and I looked at him.

"Go," I ordered, and he left.

"Privacy!" I said, and all the attendees went out from there.

Washing my tears, I leaned in to caress the babies' cheeks gently to wake them up. They cooed, and when I moved their hands a little, they began to cry.

I am sorry.

I walked away from there and stood in the corner when I heard his faded footsteps coming in. I hid behind a pillar.

He looked around and walked towards them.

"Aww, what happened?" he asked, leaning closer to them. When he tried to take them in his lap, they began to cry more.

"What happened? My babies, and where are everyone?" he asked, looking around and gently bringing them closer to his chest.

"Shhh! Calm down. What happened? Did anyone say something?" he asked in a cute voice and caressed their heads gently.

"What do you need? What happened?" he asked, and their crying intensified. I lowered my gaze before stepping closer and closer to him.

"Even the babies can cry, sensing something is wrong, but their father cannot," I said, and he looked up at me and put the babies down slowly.

I sat in front of me on the bed and let the fresh tears roll down my cheeks.

"Aapke apne putra ro rahe the to aap sab kuch chhod chhaad ke yaha aa gaye. Apne pita ke liye bura nahi lag raha, jinka Putra unki mrityu par bhi apne aap lad raha hai. Apni jid par ada hua hai. Apne aap ko saabit karne me laga hua hai. Apne pita par daya nahi aa rahi abhi?"

"When your own sons were crying, you left everything and came here. But you don't feel bad for your father, whose son is still fighting with himself, even at his death. Stubbornly holding onto his pride, trying to prove himself. Don't you feel any pity for your father, Abhi?" I said, and he looked into my eyes and stood up from the bed.

Without even answering my question, he left from there, and I could not help but cry even more.

What was he doing to himself?

Why was he punishing himself like this?

I calmed the babies down and called for Ashwin again.

Going back, I did not try to do anything and stayed with Maasa while the priests were doing their work. Baapusa was given a bath and dressed in his glorious Kingly attire.

It was morning now.

And the moment he was taken out of his chamber and put in the open garden for everyone to see, Queen Nandani arrived.

"Baapusa!" she cried out and I saw her running through the crowd and falling down to her knees beside him.

"Baapusa! what happened to you? Open your eyes, Baapusa! Please, you cannot leave us like this. Baapusa!!!" she cried out louder, and I noticed Rudra Bhaisa stepping closer to her to hold on to her.

He tried to stand her up and calm her down, but suddenly, she lost consciousness and fell down.

"Nandani!" he fell to his knees and began to tap her cheeks.

"Nandani, get up," he said, and I stepped closer to them. Maasa and Daadisa began to cry out aloud, watching her.

"Nandani, get up," Rudra Bhaisa said, and an attendee came running with a glass of water. He threw a few drops of water on her face, and she opened her eyes.

Opening her eyes, she immediately turned to look at Baapusa.

She broke into the loud cries and hugged him.

"You cannot leave us like this. You cannot. Who will stand for me when I will make mistakes? Baapusa, who will stand for me? Answer me, Baapusa. You cannot. You cannot do this to me; please wake up. This cannot be happening," she cried out, and I noticed Abhi walking closer.

Kneeling beside her, he tried to hold her shoulders.

"Nandani," he called, and she immediately looked at him.

"Abhi," she cried out loud, "Abhi, tell him to get up. Who will I visit whenever I come here? Who will take my side? Who will love me like he did? Abhi, he cannot do this. He cannot leave us, Abhi," she broke into cries, and he collected her into a tight hug, gently caressing her head.

"I will, Nandani, I will," he muttered. Suddenly, seeing her cry, he broke into cries, and I could not help but cry out, too.

Everyone cried when they did.

"Abhi, he cannot leave us like this," she cried even more. He cried along with her, hugging her tightly.

Rudra Bhaisa washed his tears and stood aside.

The day was the darkest day of my life.

That day, I realized that someone's pain was bigger for me than my own. It was his pain that slit my heart more than my own.

Seeing him cry, I felt my heart splitting into two.

I never felt this strong connection with anyone. If someone had asked me to die for him, if it could take his pain away, I would have died.

But the pain has a strange quality. You can only describe and listen to it but cannot feel it. A person would cry his heart out in front of you, but you will still not know how exactly he felt.

Baapusa's body was laid on the ground facing south after cleansing and changing into Kingly clothes. His nostrils and ears were filled with cotton, and as he was laid down, he was covered with white cloth until the neck.

My heart was sinking deep.

Abhi got up and put the heavy garland on his neck. Everyone began crying again. After him, Rudra Bhaisa put the garland on, and after him, whoever wanted to offer the garland was given the chance.

His body was covered with the flowers.

When he was alive, he tried to fill everyone's life with the floral scent. His favorite was roses, and Abhi ordered the attendees to pull out every rose in all the gardens of Mahabaleshgarh and offer it to him.

Sadly, his sister could not arrive and would not receive the letter for three to four weeks.

The priests began chanting while Abhi, Rudra Bhaisa, and other relatives began preparing the bamboo stretcher for him.

Once they were done, he was lifted and put on it.

Everyone began to cry even louder.

"Raj!" Maasa cried and tried to walk closer to him, but the ladies held her hands. Daadisa hugged Queen Nandani, and I cried, stepping closer to Maasa.

"Trisha, ask Abhi to stop," she said, and I pulled her closer into a tight hug and closed my eyes.

"Maasa, hold yourself," I muttered, and she broke into cries and fell down to her knees uncontrollably.

"Hum bhi deh tyagna chahte hai,"

"I also wish to die," she said, and I shook my head.

"Maharaj would not allow that," I said. I looked at Abhi, holding the pot in his hands while the others lifted the pyre on their shoulders.

That day, a part of Mahabaleshgarh died. Its soul lost its essence. The person who made Mahabaleshgarh famous left with nothing. His hands were empty, and whatever he made was left behind, which was the reality of life.

People come, and people go.

What they leave behind is the stories.

It depends on them what kind of stories they want to leave behind.

Baapusa left us with many stories.

Some made us hate him, while some made us fall in love with him.

People say he broke a few hearts, and that's why he suffered. Some say he loved many; that's why he lived a great life.

He was a great son, a great brother, a great husband, a great father, a great Emperor, and most importantly, a great human being.

But it was not like he was always great. He had his darkness, too, but he did what a great man does. He did not let the darkness win over his brightness.

He changed himself for the good.

As Maasa always says, he loved her dearly, and it was pretty evident. She was ready to die for him.

But love does not teach us to die for our loved ones. But to live in their great memories.

Living with the memories is the purest and most authentic form of love. It is hard to do, and only a few can do so for love.

He left us.

He left us just like that.

I did not know him much, but through the moments I spent with him, I learned that he was a great King who loved his family very much.

The rain held so many memories in our story. Whenever Abhi and I came closer, it always rained, and the day Baapusa died, it rained as well.

But, this time, we did not come closer; we fell apart.

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