Smriti

Chapter-1

It was a hot summer afternoon. A young girl no older than sixteen walked furiously towards the banks of the river Narmada to soothe herself from the rays of the scorching sun. Her blue skirt fluttered in the light breeze, which blew now and then around the river. Messy wisps of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, which she desperately tried to remove. Sweat trickled down from her neck to the blouse she wore, and with each sweat droplet that drenched her blouse, her steps turned hastier.

"Why can't people visit fairs in the evenings? Crowd the market area when the sun is down! What's so good about enjoying fairs and markets in hot summer afternoons where everyone sticks to one another?" The girl talked to herself. "What was Maa telling me in the morning? 'It's going to be crowded in the evening. Better go in the afternoon.' What on earth was that crowd there?" She picked a nearby pebble and flung it towards the Narmada.

Her anger seemed to cool down as she neared the river bed. Kneeling on the rocky, gravelly surface, she scooped some water in her hands and splashed it on her face, saying, "Oh, Narmada! Thank you for providing me with your cool and refreshing water." After thanking the river, she sat on one of the large rocks near the river and dipped her feet into the water.

Narmada, also called Reva, one of the holiest rivers to flow in Bharatvarsha, flew through the kingdom of Avanti. Her water was revered by Rishi Markandeya, and her banks narrated stories of learned men earning spiritual enlightenment. This river, though famous for learned men and sages, also helped trade to flourish on the lands she flew through. It connected Avanti to the kingdoms on the western coast, thus establishing strong trade relations that profited Avanti immensely.

Meanwhile, the young girl, after refreshing herself by the river shifted her attention to the activities on the opposite side of the river bank. A few local women were drawing water in their pots. Three boats were tied together to a nearby tree, and a fishnet lay aside them. A group of children played with mud balls and sticks on the soil. She picked up a pebble and was about to throw it in the river when a voice stopped her.

"Umm... I would appreciate it if you would enjoy the scenic view rather than throwing pebbles in the river. The splashing sound distracts me from my work."

The girl swiftly turned to her right and saw a young boy standing with a paintbrush in his hand. A canvas stood next to him, and some paint bottles were neatly placed on the ground. She got up and walked towards the boy.

"You're a painter, I see. What are you painting?" she asked and took a peep at the canvas. It contained a beautiful painting of the Narmada river. Blue-green hues depicted the calm waters of the holy river and the dense trees that grew beside the river. Strokes of yellow, orange and red beautifully showed the sun and the afternoon sky.

"This is so... beautiful. These colours have such a calming effect on the eyes. You have wonderfully captured the serenity of Narmada into this painting." The girl looked at the painting longingly. "This painting makes me want to lose myself into these colours."

Her eyes drifted towards the river once again, and she sighed. The boy had done a marvellous job of painting the river, its banks and the sky. He had also painted the women and children she had seen on the opposite bank, which added more life to the painting.

The young painter blushed a little at the praise he received from the girl. Scratching the back of his neck, he replied, "Thank you so much...?" He trailed off and looked at her in question, not knowing what to address her as. The girl hadn't introduced herself, nor had he.

Even the girl realized later that they hadn't introduced themselves to each other. "Well, call me Smriti. What's your name, painter boy?" She asked with a cheerful smile.

"Ekaksh."

Smriti whispered the boy's name to herself. Ekaksh was another name for Lord Shiva, too. She scanned the boy from top to bottom after he introduced himself, as she had been busy admiring the painting and hadn't looked at the boy closely.

Ekaksh looked as fresh and serene as the Narmada. He had a beautiful pair of brown eyes and curly lashes, which added more beauty to his eyes. Smriti was charmed by his eyes. Her eyes moved down to his lips that were light pink, similar to the colour of lotus petals.

He wore a plain white robe which was stained with paint. Even though his clothes had turned messy and crinkled, to Smriti, he looked angelic. She had seen many boys before him but had never seen one like him, someone who looked mystic, angelic, and innocent at the same time. His cheeks appeared slightly red, which amused Smriti. When she realized that his beautiful blush was her doing, she couldn't help but smile to herself.

The sound of the koel brought Smriti back to her surroundings. Clearing her throat, she asked Ekaksh, "So, where do you live, Ekaksh? I am new here. I came here with my family to visit my aunt and her family. They live in the fifth lane of Pushpabagha locality."

"Pushpabagha is not very far from my place. I live in the royal palace-"

"Is that true? Do you really live in the royal palace? Near the Queen?" Smriti asked, her eyes wide in surprise and excitement. She scanned his appearance again. "You don't look like a prince, though. I have heard about the twins - one of them is named Rathish, isn't it? The other one, who was he? I have heard his name, but I cannot remember it now."

Ekaksh chuckled. "Looks like the younger twin is remembered by most females here. My friend would feel sad that his younger brother has more popularity than him."

Smriti gasped at him. Keeping her hands on her chest, she said, "Don't tell me that you are friends with the princes! And as for me, remembering Kumar Rathish, I overheard some of the local children speaking about him before I arrived here."

Ekaksh threw his head back in laughter. Folding his arms across his chest, he continued to look at Smriti and asked, "If I live at the palace, why won't I be friends with the princes? I have known them since we were children."

Smriti was shocked. She had never thought of him having any connections with the royal family. However, she had no wish to know about the princes but the queen, for she had been her idol since Smriti was thirteen.

"Well, forget the princes. You can tell me about those two later - tell me about the queen! Have you talked to her? I have heard so many great things about her. She has also earned a lot of respect in my homeland, in Kashi. My mother told me about the queen when I was thirteen, and she has been my inspiration ever since then."

There was a shine in Ekaksh's eyes. He had a proud smile over his lips and looked down to the ground. "You see, my mother works with the maharani in financial matters, and I have known her sons since we were kids, so I have daily interactions with her. The queen is a noble lady who has run the kingdom so efficiently after the king's demise," his voice turned slightly emotional at the mention of the late king, "and has earned the love and loyalty of the common folk and the courtiers."

He stared at the tree behind Smriti, his face all grim. "People can't accept women ruling them. They cannot tolerate women leaders. It took some time for her to settle amidst the various rumours and conspiracies that had hatched after the king's death. I have seen it all. In royalty, sometimes the people we consider friends turn out to be the biggest foes.

Smriti stayed quiet and continued to look at the boy. His face no longer carried the sweet, bashful innocence but something painful, perhaps a painful realization? She wondered if this was also the reason why his eyes looked so deep as if they had seen a lot and known a lot? Realizing that it was rude to stare at someone, she looked down and counted the stones on the ground.

'Aha, fifteen stones!' She counted mentally.

"Counting stones isn't an interesting activity, Smriti. Now tell me something about yourself."

And just like that, the cheery self of the painter returned.

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