Chapter 118: chapter 118

R A N A J A Y ---It is said that a man understands his life only when he sees it reflected in the eyes of his children. As I stood on the balcony of our palace, watching the sun rise over Amaravati, I saw this truth unfold before me. Dhananjay was practicing swordplay in the courtyard below, his movements precise, yet carrying a grace that spoke of his innate nobility. Near him, Pranali chased after a butterfly with an irreverent joy that seemed at odds with the stubborn streak she was infamous for.She would not listen to the tutors, nor the maids, nor even me, her father. But the moment Sanmayi so much as raised her brow, Pranali would straighten like an arrow. A part of me envied my wife’s quiet authority; the other part reveled in how my daughter was most herself when she was a whirlwind of energy.Sanmayi emerged from our chambers, her presence as regal as ever. Even after all these years, she could still steal my breath away. She approached me, her gaze following mine to the courtyard below.“They are growing quickly,” she said, her voice soft. “Too quickly.”I nodded. “Dhananjay is nearly a man, and Pranali...” I chuckled. “Pranali is everything the gods thought too dangerous to give us in a single package.”Sanmayi smiled, though her eyes were thoughtful. “She reminds me of someone.”“Who?” I asked, amused.“You,” she replied simply, and my laughter rang across the balcony.---Later that day, as we gathered for a family meal, I broached the subject that had been on my mind for weeks. “Sanmayi,” I began, glancing at Dhananjay and Pranali, “I think it is time we return to Kosala.”Dhananjay looked up, curiosity lighting his face. “Kosala? That’s where Mother is from, isn’t it?”“Yes,” Sanmayi replied, her tone carrying a weight that only I could fully recognize. “Kosala is where my journey began, and where many stories ended.”Pranali, ever inquisitive, leaned forward, her plate forgotten. “What kind of stories? Were there battles? Were there treasures?”Sanmayi reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Pranali’s ear. “There were battles of the heart, little one. And treasures that could not be held but were worth more than kingdoms.”Pranali wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound very exciting.”I laughed, ruffling her hair. “That’s because you are too young to understand, Pranali. But perhaps if you see Kosala for yourself, you will feel its stories.”Sanmayi met my gaze, and I saw the unspoken agreement in her eyes. The journey to Kosala was not just about introducing our children to their heritage; it was about reclaiming the legacy Sanmayi had once thought lost.---The journey was long, the roads winding through dense forests and open plains. Dhananjay rode ahead with the guards, his posture straight and commanding even at his young age. Pranali, on the other hand, insisted on riding her own pony, though she often needed help navigating the rough terrain. I stayed close to her, ready to catch her should she falter. She was my youngest, my dearest, and though she frustrated me to no end, my heart softened at her every laugh.Sanmayi rode beside me, her presence a steadying force. “Do you think they will understand Kosala?” she asked quietly, her eyes fixed on the horizon.“They will,” I assured her. “Because they will see it through your eyes.”---When we finally reached Kosala, the ruins of Sanmayi’s ancestral home loomed before us. The palace was no longer the majestic structure it had once been; time had claimed its walls, and vines had crept where once banners of royalty hung. But there was a quiet dignity to it, a reminder that even in decay, history could not be erased.Dhananjay dismounted first, his expression solemn. He walked toward the crumbling steps, his hand brushing against the weathered stone. “This was once a great place,” he murmured.“It still is,” Sanmayi said, her voice steady. “Greatness does not vanish just because the world forgets.”Pranali, ever the explorer, darted off toward a broken archway. “Is there treasure here, Ma?” she called out.Sanmayi smiled, though her eyes were distant. “The treasure is what you take from it, Pranali.”---We spent the day exploring the grounds, Sanmayi guiding us with stories of her childhood. She showed Dhananjay the courtyard where her mother, Vaijayanti, once taught her to dance, and Pranali the garden where she had picked flowers as a child. As she spoke, I could see her reclaiming pieces of herself, stitching them back into the tapestry of her identity.That evening, we gathered around a fire near the ruins. The stars above seemed brighter here, as if Kosala itself was reaching out to touch us.“Tell us about Queen Vaijayanti,” Dhananjay said, his tone respectful.Sanmayi’s expression softened, and she began to speak of her mother—her kindness, her strength, and her ultimate sacrifice. Pranali listened with wide eyes, for once too captivated to interrupt.“She sounds like a great queen,” Dhananjay said when Sanmayi finished. “I hope I can be as great a ruler one day.”“You will,” I said, my voice firm. “Because you have her blood and her teachings.”“And what about me?” Pranali piped up, crossing her arms. “What will I be?”Sanmayi leaned forward, her gaze locking with Pranali’s. “You, my daughter, will be a force to reckon with. But you must learn to channel your fire, to temper your strength with wisdom.”Pranali frowned, as if unsure whether to be flattered or scolded. I chuckled, pulling her into my lap. “You’ll figure it out, Pranali. Just listen to your mother. She’s rarely wrong.”---As we prepared to leave Kosala, I felt a sense of closure settle over us. The journey had been more than a visit; it had been a reunion with the past and a promise to carry it forward.Sanmayi stood at the entrance to the ruins, her silhouette outlined against the morning sun. “This is where it began,” she said softly. “But it is not where it ends.”I placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the strength that had carried us through so much. “The legacy of Kosala lives in you, Sanmayi. And now, it lives in them.”As we mounted our horses and began the journey back to Amaravati, I glanced at our children. Dhananjay rode with a quiet determination, his eyes reflecting the weight of his lineage. Pranali, ever curious, peppered the guards with questions, her laughter echoing in the air.And as we rode toward the future, I knew that the legacy we had forged—one of love, resilience, and unity—would endure for generations to come.