Breathless, she turned to face him but he was long gone. The air still carried the evidence of his manly cologne. For the first time in the entire day, a real smile spread on Gauri's lips. Tears still fell from her eyes but this time, they held a different meaning. Respect for the man she married developed in her heart. At that moment, he wasn't merely a man but a teacher like Lord Mahadeva was to his wife- Goddess Parvati.

Filled with determination, Gauri swiped the remnants of wetness from her cheeks and took long strides towards Rajwada Palace. Entering her room, she discards the garment which made her feel uncomfortable, and washes her face clean. Draping a heavy royal blue saree over a full-sleeved blouse, she fills the partition of her forehead with vermillion and ties her hair in a low bun. Wearing a gold choker and the mangal sutra, she fills her wrists with bangles and dons a pair of silver anklets. Adjusting the free drape of saree on her head, she smiles at the reflection and returns to the same gathering where she was shamed a few moments ago.

A worried Vasundhara when saw her daughter-in-law entering the premises once again was left awestruck.

The naïve girl who left and the confident woman who entered weren't the same. As Vasundhara predicted, she stood out, but not like a sore thumb. In the mob of self-obsessed creatures, she stood serenely tall, her shoulders squared and head held high. The power in her eyes and pride on her nose wasn't nailed in some etiquette sessions. She carried it from the tears of strong women who've graced these lands long before her. Her kind was different, half water and half fire.

With a profound fortitude and stagnant robustness, Gauri marched majestically, surpassing every royal present in the palace, and made her way towards the podium.

Taking a mike, she clears her throat.

"To attend to some important matters, the King had to leave urgently. In his absence and as his better half, I take the honor of welcoming all our humble guests this evening. Thank you everyone for joining us and solemnizing this union. We greatly value your gracious presence. Let me have the privilege of introducing myself as the wife of King Yagyavardhan Rana and Daughter-in-law of Queen Mother Vasundhara Devi.

I am Gauri, daughter of Kishan and Rukmani. You may not have heard of them. It is because we come from a modest family of farmers in Shivpuri. Both my parents are breadwinners. They work hard to provide for me and take care of my old grandmother."

Chuckling at the thought of a brilliant wrinkling face, Gauri continues.

"I am not going to apologize for the misunderstanding created earlier. I am not sorry that I am not as highly educated as you lot, but I do take pride in what little I know. I know my culture. I know my roots. I know my people. And most of all, I know my truth. Clad in finest garments, bagged with heavy jewels wouldn't change the fact that I am an outsider. That I wasn't born in a rich family or royalty. Still, I am proud of being a daughter of a farmer, who works hard so that nobody has to sleep with an empty stomach. I may not have attended good schools and pursued higher education, but I was showered with love and respect and taught to respect others because God lives in everyone. I come from a background where each able individual earns on their own.

In my village, I used to spread knowledge and morals among children by punctuating tales from mythology. Through my tales, I cleared and painted a picture of rights and wrongs. I pointed out how a man needs to respect his woman. I gave them the courage to face every war the world has to offer. I taught the poor girls to be like Goddess Durga, to fight against injustice. I may not have signed any billion-dollar deals, but I've played a small role in strengthening the shoulders of my country and I am proud of this legacy.

Some of these qualities must have stolen the attention of my dearest mother-in-law for her to approach me with this proposal. I've always respected my King, for he is a kind man who has worked for the upliftment of the poor. I accepted this proposal with a sound mind because it had the potential of providing me a platform to reach many more children and introduce them to the golden history and mythology no school teaches today.

To be a queen isn't a child's play. It isn't about being flashy and showcasing a false pride when I am hollow from the inside. To be a queen is to lend a shoulder to my King, to assist and help him when he is confused. When he needs to rest. To carry his words, where it is difficult for him to reach. To give him a legacy that'll make him proud one day.

So, this is me.

I am Gauri, the new Yuvrani of Rajwada Palace and I am not living in any bubble."

"Let us, servants of the queen under the oath of blood be respondent oracle of fate and destruction. May the one on throne accept this widow's mite and bestow upon us boundless power."

Chants of evil reverberated through the vicinity of dead's realm capturing yet another innocent in the non-ending whirlwind of blood-thirsty. A horrendous laugh accompanied the screech of a frail woman. Humanity yet again witnessed itself murdered as a silent spectator.

On and on went the dance of death as the pale corpse spins at a slow pace. The life and love of life now gone from the empty eyes of a young maiden who once held hope and aspirations. The silent and blind atmosphere around the palace registered the flaw of cosmos as the unconscious corpse spun. The grand chandelier manufactured by the greatest artisans of Rome in the late 19th century held the piece of dead thing which was once a living breath of stardust. One end of a thick rope was tied from the pipe of an unlit lamp of chandelier and the other end of the rope was wrapped around the throat of cadaver in sight.

She hung 11 ft above ground level, her legs freely suspended in the air. Neck in the constricting grip of a rope that broke the hyoid bone. The mouth of the corpse was still open to release a scream that never escaped or maybe it was the doorway from where the soul was ripped out of a frail body. The game of death was far more tragic than one might guess.

Blood dripped from the tips of toes and made the pattern on white marble as the corpse revolve in a circular motion, fixed on an axis.

Nobody knows. Nobody came to see. For it was after midnight when the demons prowled to play with innocent minds. When the warm bodies rested in their beds to enjoy the embrace of Somnus, a cold body danced in the embrace of death. On and on she twirled due to the free weight and rope that rebelled against gravity.

The frail-looking maiden was born on the bank of a small stream, in the house of a mason some twenty summers ago, from the womb of a Krishna devotee after a long period of intense labor. The mother thought she would die of the pain where her lower region stretched and contracted to make a tunnel for the arrival of life. A lot of blood was lost during the process and due to lack of medical attention, the mother breathed her last after admiring the face of her young bundle of joy. Where the villagers called the newborn cursed, the rough hands of a new father held her close, providing the warmth of his thundering heart, and kissed her forehead with chapped lips.

Her soft and sunkissed flesh reminded him of his all-time favorite actress.

Rekha

He names the newborn after her and later completed the last rites of his wife.

From a young age, Rekha grew up listening to the bad luck she brought to this family. Her heart broke each time, it reminded her of the untimely death of her mother. Though the father was always there to soothe those wounds, society never deterred from freshening them again. Hell-bent on making a difference in their lives, she completed her secondary education and was later interviewed for the post of a servant in the palace. Her intellect and communication skill gave her more. She was appointed as one of the Queen Mother's helping hands in managing the festivities and decorations around the fort.

This made her father happy. Now she earned more than any of the villagers of their caste. Their old and shabby house which had seen better days was put on renovation. A solid roof was laid replacing the old grass shed. The daughter of a mason was doing everything she can and her hard work at the palace earned her another promotion where the mother queen appointed her as the new bride's handmaiden. Her salary was raised.

She wasn't sure about it in the beginning but Gauri changed her mind. The new princess was polite and smart and was eager to make acquaintance with her.

Unfortunately, for the initial days, Gauri had to stay at the infamous Rajwada Palace where the King lived alone with a few servants. Since it was the King's abode, all the official guidelines were discharged from there. Of all the palaces, it was the most highly guarded premises. Strict rules were imposed on the residents to only enter Rajwada Palace when ordered.

Rekha never liked the tense atmosphere and stale air circulating the palace. She preferred the lively Chitrakoot Palace, the Queen Mother's house more.

Even today everything was going well until she unknowingly pissed off Ambika by openly talking to the princess like they are old mates. She feared if the Queen Mother disapproved of this. But she couldn't help when Gauri was fidgeting like that. That girl was just like them. A poor villager from the southern kingdom. All of this was too much for her. A little comfort might have raised her spirits. Only the efforts backfired. She angered the handmaiden of Vasundhara Devi.

Quick to recover from her error, the poor girl thought of apologizing to the offended individually before retiring to bed. The fates hoped for her to postpone the plan to the next day and just follow the regular norm of bathing and sleeping. But what was meant to happen will happen?

Since she was Gauri's handmaiden, she was assigned a room in Rajwada Palace for the time. Her mistake was to leave the safety of her chambers alone when the rest were fast asleep, exhausted from the day's labor. Light on her feet she makes her way to Ambika's room in the Chitrakoot Palace.

The night was already dark, camouflaging all that looks beautiful in daylight and frightening at the night.

It was heard that she did make a successful venture around Ambika's place but on the way back, the darkness of Rajwada Palace got to her. She should have followed the rules. The onlookers would whisper the next morning in disdain.

It happened fast and suddenly.

Where claw-like arms with thick protruding veins, emerged from the darkness and broke into her delicate flesh, till they caressed her ossein. The fragile bones of her arms broke in a tight grip and her faceless criminal started pulling at her clothes next. All the while she remained frozen as if someone has tied her limbs and gagged her throat. With wide terrified eyes, she saw a monster, a nightmare that came alive from the stories of old and tattered her dignity into pieces. Her body was massaged and clawed at ruthlessly until she bathed in her blood. She tried to scream but couldn't. Her breasts, her stomach, her thighs none were left untouched.

She was penetrated and tasted by a lustful demon that scourged the hallways of Royal Fort at night.

Under the dimly lit chandelier, the innocent daughter of a poor mason, who had big dreams of making everything better for her father, was pawed and raped till her soul left an empty vessel behind. Fate only wished to erase the pain, hoping she wouldn't carry it in her next life.

Once the body turned lifeless and cold, the monster used the thick rope holding the chandelier intact to tie it around her throat. As the rope slowly pulled her weight upward, the hyoid bone broke, making her head bend at the side at an odd angle. Her naked and bloody body rose 7 ft above the ground and spun, like a broken ballerina. The monster cackled at the display.

It was a forewarning to all the residents.

It was the silence before the chaos.

It was a display of power.

It was a curse on the Royal family.

The terror this will project would be satisfying. The sadness this would bring will vanquish the merriments of a newlywed. How come netizens danced in golden light when darkness hovered it all the while? Did they forget the tales of old, of sinners and God? No happiness will ever come, for years ago, a heart was broken.

In the end, it will be an empty vessel, breathless, heartless, blind, and voiceless, a home of traumatized souls.

The monster rejoiced, death danced and the corpse spun.