A bird perched on a colossal branch bereft of life. Wilted, flame-colored flowers and amber-colored leaves formed a mosaic on the ground. River Godavari coursed in silence. The royal majesty Mahendra Varma lay down on his bed, watching the spider that tried to crawl out of the web. The tiny creature accentuated his somber mood. His chest heaved as he looked around the opulent yet drab room. Anklets announced the arrival of Queen Aadarshini. She walked to the windows and drew the drapes. A chunk of sunlight gushed into the room. A soothing breeze assuaged the turmoil that held his mind captive. She then placed the tray on the table and held his hand in a gentle grasp. The furrows on his forehead deepened. His palm dampened her skin.  "I have something that will cheer you up." Her smile disappeared as his lusterless eyes shut tightly.  She unfurled a velvet cloth. "Our friend King Nirveda Varma has sent a letter," she said. He groaned as he tried to sit upright.  "To King Mahendra Varma of Ajayapuram. Me and the subjects of my kingdom are greatly indebted to your kindness. My kingdom has prospered under the canopy of your friendship. To express our gratitude, I have arranged a religious ceremony to pray for your health. Queen Lakshmi Devi has sent a special potion to help cure your illness. I hope to find you in the best health and spirits soon." Aadarshini folded the cloth.  She retrieved a silver pot and unlaced the cloth covering its rim. He gulped a part of the potion and gestured to her to sit by his side. He looked at her, his eyes shining with admiration. "Your administrative skills and knowledge of the intricacies of power dynamics are commendable. It was your suggestion to sign a peace treaty with Nirveda Varma. He has proven to be a loyal friend over the past few years. I owe that to you, my dear queen," he paused.  A smile similar to a sunbeam illuminating a dark room warmed her face. She couldn't recall the last time he had had a proper conversation with her or for that matter anyone else. Before she dwelled in a moment of bliss, his eyelids started to droop. He turned away and faced the window, squinting as the sun's rays blinded him.  "What is bothering you? You’ll recover soon. The royal doctor has assured us about the same,” she said, running her fingers through his hair.  "It's not my health that's bothering me. The future of our kingdom looks bleak. All I can see is a big black hole. I can feel our kingdom getting sucked into it,” he answered, his voice turning croaky.  "Oh dear, you must be strong. You cannot give up in any situation. Our people need you." Her words failed at casting their usual magic. "Our son isn't inclined to take the reins in his hands. He has dedicated his life to serve God and he is more interested in spirituality," His eyes turned misty. She searched for a thin streak of hope amid the swamp of despair and sorrow. The elusive thread seemed to slip from her hands. Hope vanished like thin smoke. She stared at the ceiling, struggling to find the right words to soothe his anguished mind.  "But it's not over. I still have hope." He spoke slowly, his thoughts weighing down his words. She stood before him, a tiny glint taking seed in her eyes.  "On the banks of river Godavari, at the borders of Ajayapuram, I saw a man. He wielded the sword at a pace faster than lightning. There was a statue erected at a distance. He practiced archery. His blue eyes were deep like the sea. He displayed grit and strength. But there was something different about him and the man intrigued me. I wanted to invite him to grace our courtroom. But he is nowhere to be seen. He has vanished without a trace. The soldiers have been trying to locate him. But in vain," he sounded dejected. "When was the last time you saw him?" Trepidation laced her words. "About five months back. Right before the time I got sick." His jaws turned red as he spoke. She staggered. He clapped. The guards entered.  "Present the painting," he commanded. A few minutes later, the men brought a canvas board. The painting stared at her, mocking her existence. She wobbled and crashed on the couch. The soft cloth dug deep into her skin. The door to her past creaked open. The drapes concealing her secrets unfurled. She held on to the lock and walked to the garden. "Aadarshini, what do you think?" His voice trailed behind her. She sat under the bare tree, the sunlight piercing her. The lock broke with a thud. Those memories crushed the barriers and came gushing.  Her hair cascaded down her waist as she rushed to the garden and joined her woman clan. "Why are you running? It is not an appropriate behavior for a future queen," her mother chided. Tears floated in her eyes. She wanted to return to her chambers when Padmavathi intervened. She was the eldest of the three and the wisest.  "Come here. Join us." Holding Aadarshini's hand, she guided her to their favorite spot. An enticing aroma lingered around the ripe mangoes and made the girls hungry. Aadarshini wanted to jump and lay her hands on the treasure. But the thought of her mother stopped her in her tracks.  "You must not misunderstand Maa's words. She always has your best interest in mind," spoke Padmavathi. "What about my desires? I don't want to be a queen. I want to..." Images fluttered before her and rendered her incapable of completing the sentence.  She clamped her eyes. But the images clung to her. A white horse galloped in the fields. A young warrior with blue eyes flaunted his sword that shone like a thousand suns. The imagery held her hostage. She stood rooted to the ground, unable to move an inch.  "Are you okay?" Padmavathi grasped her shoulders and shook her.  Rivulets of sweat coursed down her cheeks and landed on her blouse. The images fascinated her. At the same time, she felt fear grasp her. A part of her wanted to hold onto them tightly. But the other part ordered her to let go. "Here you are," her younger sister and friends joined them.  Their mindless chatter and games kept her mind occupied. Later that night, she rested on the bed and looked at the moon which cast a silvery glow on everything around it. Its soothing aura enveloped her. The incidents of that evening came back to her. Her mother's words, the frightening glare, and the images crashed at her feet like a turbulent wave. She clutched the sheets and closed her eyes lest the visions disappeared. They tormented her night after night. She turned morose and stopped interacting with her sisters. She spent most of the time staring out the window, her mind weaving a tapestry of imagination. She was a dreamer. She dreamt with her eyes open. She reproduced her dreams on a canvas. An entire chamber stored her paintings. But the visions seemed absurd.  More than a month later, she gave a form to her thoughts. The canvas seized the sketches that plagued her mind. A young warrior galloped on a white horse while wielding his sword. What held her transfixed were his eyes. They bore a resemblance to someone. She moved closer and stared at the puzzle. There was something enigmatic about those tranquil eyes. Her head throbbed.  "What are you doing?" She heard her mother's voice. She ran around trying to hide the painting. It felt like she was a mouse escaping the clutches of a cat. But her mother's blazing eyes poured cold water over her efforts. "What are you doing? Focus on your music lessons. Learn some culinary nuances. I want you to imbibe all the qualities needed to be a good wife. Your sketches make no sense. You aren't a kid anymore." Her mother's words burnt the tears of shame roiling in her heart.  "I don't want to be a wife. I want to be an administrator. I wish to..." Her mother raised her hand.  She stopped talking. Her mother smiled. Warmth replaced the tension in the room, leaving her surprised. "Come here and sit," her mother's voice was gentle. Was it the same woman who rebuked her a while ago? The stark change in her demeanor worried Aadarshini. "I'm strict with you. But that's for your good. I always want the best for you." Her mother kissed her on the forehead.  She nodded, lowered her gaze, and waited for her mother to leave.  The mysterious prince from the painting stared at her. It felt like he struggled to communicate with her. His eyes held untold stories and entangled desires. She wished to unravel the secrets. But she refrained from following her heart. She placed the painting in a corner and vowed to forget about it. For the next four months, she tried to be the daughter her mother wanted her to be. Albeit reluctantly, she learned everything the experts taught her. Thoughts about the prince faded away. That was an exceptional quality time possessed. Ideas and notions coursed through the mind like the tumbling waves of the sea. Eventually, the boundary between the older and newer versions got blurred.  One evening, the sky shattered. Silvery drops descended onto the earth. The wind danced. The mortal souls swayed to the heaven's melody. A little girl entered the queen's chamber, her heart racing faster than a cheetah. "An astrologer has taken shelter in our country. I heard that his predictions are accurate. Can we visit him, Maa?" The girl addressed the woman that braided the queen's hair. "You must seek permission before you enter the queen's chambers." The woman shushed the girl.  The girl's announcement intrigued the queen. She summoned her daughters. The women ascended a chariot. A while later, the lanes narrowed. They gave up the chariot and walked. Droplets of rain trickled down the silk canopy as the women trudged their way to the cabin. Brownish stains smudged their bright silk finery. The cabin jutted out of a narrow lane. The queen bowed and greeted the astrologer. She sat cross-legged before him. He predicted that her daughters would lead a happy married life and they would all be queens. Contented, the queen thanked him and left the cabin.  "Oh, young woman," the astrologer addressed Aadarshini.  Startled, she turned and faced him.  "Your dreams will come true. But..." He paused and stroked his beard.  His mystic voice bewitched her.  "You need to work towards it. Just dreaming would not get you anywhere. Dreams are good. Dream more and believe in yourself." he spoke, his divine voice scaring and comforting her. Both at the same time.  Before she could ask him a question, he closed his eyes and seemed to drift to another world.  A strange feeling brewed in her heart. How did the wise man know about her dreams? Would her dream become a reality? She spent sleepless nights mulling on his words. The fragrance of jasmine oil failed at putting her mind to rest. A few weeks went by. She saw those blue eyes flash before her. A rustling sound similar to the swish of the sword rang in her ears. A pattern of colors oscillated causing her heart pound against her chest. Her muscles tightened. She woke up gasping for breath. For the first time, she knew what she had to do. At sunrise, she painted those eyes. The warm rays fell on them. The eyes shimmered like pearls. They radiated peace and positivity. But there was something stern and gritty about them. The door to her chambers opened. Her younger sister entered. Aadarshini didn't turn. The mere sound of her footsteps announced her proximity. "That's a beautiful painting. One of your best." admired Saraswathi.  Aadarshini didn't concentrate on the adulation. When in need, her little sister resorted to means of flattery. "These eyes are familiar," Saraswathi took a closer look. Before Aadarshini responded, she said, "Those are your eyes. Why did you paint your eyes?" The dreamy princess's heart stopped beating for a fleeting second. The treasure box of mystery was wide open. The worms of suspense crawled all over the floor. But she felt anxious. Was it her inner desire to be a warrior? It sounded unconventional. "Ridiculous," she imagined her mother shriek.  She shut her ears with her palms. Blood thrummed in the veins. Only one person would offer her solace. Her sister Padmavathi. Leaving Saraswathi alone and confused, she undertook the forbidden journey.  "You look sick. Should I summon the doctor?" asked a worried Padmavathi.  Aadarshini hugged her sister. A few minutes later, her anxiety reduced. She let her go.  "I had a dream...." Aadarshini recounted her heart's anecdote, pausing in between only to take deep breaths.  Padmavathi listened to every word she uttered bewilderment written all over her. Minutes later, she felt disoriented and sat on the bed. Aadarshini rushed to help her.  "Akka, I'm sorry. My words have agonized you." Tears rolled down her cheeks.  Padmavathi gulped a glass of water. She stroked her sister's hair and held her hand.  After a few minutes of contemplation, she spoke, "I'm not agonised. I'm worried about you." "But I'm with you. If you wish to be a warrior, I'll help you fulfill it," promised Padmavathi. The dawn was brighter than usual. The sun shone resplendently. Birds sang a different tune. Butterflies hovered around flowers. It was a beautiful day.  "We must go now," whispered Padmavathi.  The sisters stealthily tiptoed out of the royal mansion, careful not to leave any trail behind. They got on a chariot. Padmavathi whisked it away as Aadarshini looked in awe. She led her to a quaint cottage surrounded by verdant greenery.  "I heard our father telling Maa that this is a hideout spot. No one will find us here," said Padmavathi. She fetched a sword hidden in the back of the chariot. "Take this and practice," she said.  It was a difficult task to get a grasp on the weapon. Lifting it was a herculean task altogether. Aadarshini struggled for more than an hour. But she didn't make any progress.  "It's time we go back. The guards will resume their duty any moment," insisted Padmavathi. Disheartened, Aadarshini followed her sister back to the safety of their mansion.  "It's your first day. Don't lose hope," assured Padmavathi. Later that evening, she brought scriptures and books and asked Aadarshini to read about the subject.  A few months went by. The books helped her gain knowledge on the subject. She learned the right technique. But she injured herself more than once in the process.  "Learning from a guru will make things better," she suggested. "We will need Father's approval for that. I don't think you will ever get one." Padmavathi comforted her sullen sister.  Aadarshini accepted the reality of the situation. She utilized the resources she had at her disposal to the best of her abilities. Six months later, Padmavathi got married. To her mother's surprise and unbound joy, King Mahendra Varma of Ajayapuram sought Aadarshini's hand in marriage. Her sources informed her that Mahendra Varma was a kind-hearted man. Everyone loved him. The art of warfare remained an elusive bird. She found no reason to reject the proposal. A few months after marriage, Aadarshini resumed her efforts. She attempted to camouflage her feminine features under a man's attire. Taking refuge under the sun, she followed her heart. But she didn't foresee her little secret being out in the open.  "Your majesty, there is a decline in the King's health." A soldier's voice brought her to the present. "Call for the doctor," she instructed and ran to her husband.  "Where were you, Aadarshini?" His eyes closed involuntarily.  What had she done? She should have been there by his side. Guilt pierced her. The doctor arrived and did the needful. "Your majesty, the royal majesty's physical health is just fine. It's his mental state that I'm concerned about," informed the doctor.  She watched him in silence, waiting for him to explain further. "The royal majesty is worried about something. He will get better if we can eliminate the cause." The doctor bowed and left. She sat by Mahendra Varma's side and caressed his forehead. The sweatbeads lining his forehead dissipated under her touch. His skin was cold and pale. She placed her head on his chest and felt his heartbeat. The sound of his pulse made her feel alive. Tiny, salty beads landed on his palm. His fingers twitched. But he lay unconscious. Hours went by.  She woke up to the sound of the temple bells. The new day was a herald of unbridled hope. He opened his eyes. She wrapped her hands around him and engulfed him in a tight hug. Relief washed over her. He ran his lumbering fingers through her hair. Her silky tresses sent a comforting wave down his skin.  "You must find him," he mumbled. The comfort she felt was short-lived.  "You need to rest. Focus on getting better." She leaned and kissed him on the forehead. "Thoughts about the safety and well-being of my people aren't letting me rest. Finding the warrior will offer me peace." The royal majesty's weary eyes were resolute. "Don't rely solely on strangers, my love. We can train our son and make him capable." Her words failed at assuaging his angst. "I love our Aditya the same way you do. But as a king, it's my responsibility to discern his capabilities dispassionately. Our son is a humble and kind man. But that doesn't qualify him as an able ruler." His firm words spoke of his undaunted attitude. "I have always had your unwavering support, Aadarshini. What is holding you back today?" His question caught her unawares.  She shifted her gaze, pursed her lips together, and fidgeted with her saree. The tip of the spear, 'guilt' that stabbed her, now went deeper and ripped her being apart. She wanted to confess. But the fear of the outcome forced her to stay silent. She was never a victim of his anger. All she experienced was his love. She didn't want to be the reason for his disappointment or anger.  "Administration and warfare are not a woman's job," she remembered her father's words. Would her husband feel otherwise? "You have my support. But you rest now," she said.  He conceded and closed his eyes. But he wasn't at ease. At dawn, the royal majesty distributed the painting of the warrior. He invited scholars, artists, and brave men from all over. Honoring the guests kept Aadarshini occupied. Her passion remained incognito for more than two decades. It was beyond doubt it would continue to be that way. Her other identity would remain concealed. Despite her confidence, she lowered her gaze whenever she served the guests. She didn't want her eyes to give her away. No one had ever spotted her. She repeated to herself. A few weeks went by. A cuckoo perched on the branch of a Gulmohar tree that extended to her chamber. The hairdresser tucked a strand of flowers in her meticulously braided hair.  "Today is a special day. You are going to grace the royal court after a hiatus." spoke the hairdresser. Aarshini looked at her in silence. Thoughts churned in her mind like a turbulent storm. There was a time when she took delight in participating in the administrative affairs. But that morning felt different. Ripples of fear crept under her skin. She plastered a smile on her lips. Her anxiety wriggled under the curve and lowered its head.  "There is an elderly man in the court today. He looks like a sage," she heard people whisper. Guards bowed. She nodded in response. Her gait exuded confidence. It was something she had mastered over the years. King Mahendra Varma sat on the throne his eyes exhausted but bright. The man with a long mystic white beard covering most of his face sat to the right of the royal majesty. Mahendra Varma stood up and greeted Aadarshini. She sported her best smile and caught a glimpse of the mystifying man. She had seen him somewhere. Where she didn't remember. It felt like it was in another lifetime.  "The wise man here has something profound to offer," the royal majesty announced. The man walked to the painting. He reached for a hair brush. His wrinkled yet agile fingers worked like a magic wand. A beaming smile played on his lips. He picked up the canvas and ascended the stairs that led to the throne. Astonishment surged through Mahendra Varma's face. He stood up and embraced the man. But Aadarshini noted a tinge of disappointment floating in his eyes.  "I found my answers," the royal majesty's exuberance lit the royal court. "Let me take your leave, Your Majesty," said the man. His voice struck a chord. It was subtle yet firm. There was a divine touch to it. The couple bowed and thanked him. A spark hit Aadarshini. Everything became clear to her. There was no place for doubt. Thoughts gushed in her mind like the waters of the river Godavari. He was the astrologer she had met years ago. The man who had pushed her toward following her dreams. Was he aware of her secret? Had he known it all along? The desire and secret she harbored in her heart. He smiled knowingly at her. A pit formed in her stomach as she watched him leave. What did he show the royal majesty? Uneasiness fluttered within her. But trained that she was, she maintained her poise until later that afternoon.  She let her hair loose and sat on a couch with her feet curled up. Her eyes fell on the painting located beside the dresser. It was a splitting mirror image of her. She walked to the canvas and ran her fingers over it. The astrologer added a little red dot between the eyebrows and a few locks down the neck. He opened her can of worms without uttering a word. The lid was open. Molten lava poured all over. She heard a series of heavy footsteps. She shuddered at the thought of facing her angry husband.  "My dear queen or, should I say, my dear warrior," his voice thundered. She turned only to be greeted by his sparkling smile. She sighed. Unrestrained tears coursed down her cheeks.  "Why are you crying? You must be proud of yourself." He enveloped her in his arms. The warmth melted away all her worries. She felt assured for the first time in months.  "Swords, bow, and arrow always enchanted me. But my parents had said that combat knowledge isn't a woman's job." Emotions made her words incoherent. "You can learn now," he said. "It's too late." She wiped her tears. "It's never too late." He held her hand and squeezed it. "Only I wish you had told me." He pulled a face. Mahendra Varma, the King and a stickler for rules was a child at heart. She smiled at that thought and ruffled his hair. "I was scared," she said.  "There's nothing to be afraid of. Your classes will begin tomorrow. Our Guru has agreed to tutor you." His words filled her heart with boundless happiness.  Two years went by. Queen Aadarshini became the first woman warrior of Ajayapuram. King Mahendra Varma sighed in peace. The queen emerged from the chrysalis of her self-doubt and rediscovered itself. Dreams weren't for the lazy. Fortune and dreams favored the gritty and hardworking souls. Years went by. Many women followed in her footsteps.  It was the beginning of the golden era for Ajayapuram, where everyone prospered.