Music recommendation: Ikk kudi (slowed version)
Or
God is a Woman
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Every success tells the story of hard work, pain, depression, and many sleepless nights, with numerous sacrifices. But that appreciation is a one-day good. Because your success is not a part of their hard work. For sure you inspire to write a new story.
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Pratiksha Rathore perched her feet in her dream college of medicine for' MS in the cardiology department, which she got after clearing "uuf, not so difficult", in her relative words. NEET PG. Oh! But to be honest, that wasn't an effortless task; she had to work her ass off to achieve this. The aphotic blue waxed with grey walls of skyrocket buildings coalesced together with uncountable rooms, fulfilling the dreams of millions of students and teachers who stood proud. Success teeming from each departmental board of the little medical world.
As the heir of the most powerful clan exited the car the eyes of appreciation lined up to catch the sight of the aristocrat, the face capable of raging war. For her was it tolerable? No! Can she do anything to change? Except for cleaning the road red, none! The empress found the appealing but lot resting to satiate her mind by simply knocking off breath at the bait, but she knew the question would rise to her father, and she couldn't afford it. To help the situation she took a deep breath as if drifting herself in the weight of the premises sauntering off all the bad amalgamation set in her brain. Perhaps the empress was cruel and had a lot of violent ways that drifting to meditation, feel sorry for her part. Her father was standing near the professor, convincing the old man of his not being so safe for others- safety for his daughter. Being the only heir of the Hukum sa (Emperor) of Rajasthan, he couldn't afford to let danger be the subject of the regal throne's owner.
His hawk-like eyes ferret towards his daughter, calling her to assemble in front. He probed, "Laado!" His voice was calm and sedate. Much to world escape, much to his dictatorship rules, deceiving all the warrior victory he made. Which, to be honest, for her was a flout: "Remember, you are our maan." She chants the same spiel with her father, "You have to make us proud, and please take care of yourself and always protect yourself." The parasite to her unbridled freedom- maan, her honor.
The rebellious princess was anything but devout, being termed maan and protecting her honor was nothing more than the subordinate in her nomadic wave. The piousness of not-so-elegant society needs to hear: A woman doesn't need to protect unless a man knows to check. To be precise men stop thinking women are born in the world they have created. She wonders, why no fairytales were written of how brave the queen was fighting against jackals and wolves.
Listening to these words, both of them chuckled. She composed her father while rising to the bait, covertly manipulating the tactful words in the mortification of fun, "Papa Hukum sa, you don't need to worry. Your Laado is anything but an imbecile girl. She knows how to override things in her hands." She bent, her undertone threading to mockery, "Be safe, yeah!"
Her father frowned, inquisitiveness flowing in his eyes, fraying the nerves of his brain. He speculated, "Why are you telling us to be safe?"
She trailed off with a wave of her hand, replying derisively, "Don't forget Maa sa Hukum is not only the Hukum rani sa (wife of the Emperor) but also a twenty-first-century Hitler. Her rules are thousandfold more strict than Nazism's rule," and they both laughed sharing the jubilation out of habit.
While the chat continued in gainsay, Shreedha Chauhan came hitting Pratiksha's back.
"Bitch! Couldn't you keep your feet slow?" Shreedha retaliated.
"It's not my part to worry about your feet being slow, Princess Chauhan. Power is held by the one who walks on the wisdom of mastering one's own caliber. And as much as I like you soggy princess, the greed of cheese pizza won't bring you wealth. Know how to hold the rein!" The haughty empress proclaimed. Pratiksha did have an idea- elaborated on the powerful weapon of warfare. Time, patience, money, and power. And before the jarring memories of certain things could invade her mind and paranoid her for this special day. She pushed back the predator before it could get shelter, splaying a smile to her candescent.
Vikrant wasn't going to lie. He felt proud; he had seen his wife as deserving yet never as more than a mere loving, kind queen. In their not-so-sophisticated unofficial kingdom, the women are meant to love, not destroy, not even evil. And this intrigued the Emperor of Rajasthan. The land of veers shouldn't know how to differentiate between rulers. His trance conniving in interminable history broke when the screeching voice of the Chai vendor increased. The trio exchanged pleasantries with a smile.
"Ghani Khamma Baisa." Shreedha glanced at Pratkisha's father, bowed with respect, suspicious eyes darting to the brave man. Greeting him, anchored of confound present, she let her worry acknowledged by the man standing all indomitable. " Khamma Gani Kaka Hukum sa. You here? Any issue?" She inquired since the presence of royalty with their emperor in a government medical school wasn't a common sight, especially for any trivial matter.
He enhanced his understanding of the resignation of the young girl. "No, Baisa, for both of you, it is your first day. So I wanted to have a word with the director of the university. Especially when something important is impending. Now I should leave. Bye." He crowed with a smile tugging at his lips. Subjugation adrift behind the eddies of the elder man's eyes.
Shreedha Singh Chauhan. The daughter of Adhiraj Singh Chauhan (Rana/Raja Sa/King of Udaipur) and Ragini Singh Chauhan (Rani Sa/Queen). Sister of Abhay Singh Chauhan. (Kunwar Sa/Prince of Udaipur) The princess could be defined by her beauty to create war and her narcissistic personality wreaking hearts with her little tornado lifestyle pampered and a brat of her elder brother. The stubbornness was anything but caring for the people thinking her entitled objective.
The two families were infamous business rivals in the whole Rajputana clan, the fact that they never brought this into their daughter's friendship helped the to-be empress and princess admire their world of friendship. Both families loved the Soul sisters impartially. The two were brought up in gallantry and benevolent territory. From sharing a great bond in the past to being rivals, their daughters sharing this extreme bond was out of their comfort zone, but they did. They knew that girls were safe in groups of two. But the worst part was, that nothing helped to alleviate this rivalry.
And here comes our spokeswoman, our leading lady. Pratiksha. The only hire of the most powerful clan-Rajputana aa...aan not the princess always decked up in her femininity, world of men doesn't let you to embrace it. You consider immoral, threat danger too false to be involved in, but this empress rules the conniving world. Because that's what power is for, refrain from the ugly scar from the throne manipulating the world of depravity. Daughter of Vikrant Singh Rathore, the Hukum Sa of Rajasthan, and Diya Singh Rathore, the Hukum Rani Sa. A skilled dancer and bold enough to amaze you with her answer, er, with her macaw-like hawk eyes, always colored with collyrium, she was unbeatable. She is capable of fighting off enemies, be they lingering in emotions or fighting physically as the lament song her existence sang. She is talented at embracing the challenges thrown her way because she can't afford to be second. Her great aura speaks of her personality, demanding respect. She is an utterance of ferocious strength. Born in power Pratiksha Rathore was raising herself for blood and revenge adrift in her veins. Veered in embers of hatred to certain someone. Thrown at the age of six in beguiling warfare was the dynasty of unbridled rage. And she was ready to submit to the subject.
From sword fighting to guns, leading to the virtue of perfect warrior and a noble high prize for her contribution to learning and experimenting in the predilection of the medical world, things are just her play. But her dream is to serve her nation and seek revenge for the pain, she never deserved. Brutality is her greed, shedding blood and ceasing breath is her hobby. She is on the path to giving back to Satan. All for once. Her Revenge is a thousandfold more dreadful than her love.
Being from a Rajput clan, her path to success was not at all going to be that simple. Peep in to learn about her journey from princess to patriotic soldier.
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Did you enjoy reading it? Because I did writing it.
Good. Please do vote and comment out your thoughts it would be much appreciated. Apology for the short update.
Love~Maatijyo