Āgamana - VaidarbhiShyamaa
She was surrounded by ten women, all silent. No sound of anklets, no whispers, not even the usual rustle of silks. It was as if the palace had ordered the air itself to still.
It had been an hour since she stepped out of the palace gates. Eight hours since the jasmine was tucked into her hair - now limp, clinging to her neck as if it were tired of waiting. Seventy-two hours since she’d sent the letter.
She hadn’t even signed it. Just wrote what needed to be said and sealed it with trembling fingers. Come get me out of here, it said, without saying it so directly.
The jasmine had begun to brown at the edges, one petal falling loose and catching in the fold of her saree. She didn’t reach to fix it. Let it fall.
Every second stretched. Her heartbeat was loud, but she was not anxious. Her hope, somehow, had grown more stubborn. It should have shrivelled by now.
Died quietly inside her chest. But no. It sat there, full of nerve.
as if challenging everyone who didn't believe in it.
"He won't come, Rajakumari," her maid whispered - the first to break the silence and, in doing so, cast all attention on the former.
"No." She knew it in that irritating, unreasonable part of her gut that refused to believe in disappointment. "He will."
“He’s not coming,” one of the maids said, not unkindly. Just tired.
She didn’t answer. She stared straight ahead, at the dirt path disappearing into the horizon, letting the words slip off her like water.
He had listened.
She believed that.
Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d laughed, tossed the letter into a fire, muttered something about her.
But even thinking that felt wrong.
The women straightened. Someone gasped.
Dust swirled in the distance.
She blinked once, slowly. Her chest didn’t rise. Didn’t fall.
The sound grew louder. Fierce. Real.
Chariot wheels tore across the earth like they had something to prove.
Just him. Hair wild. Tunic wrinkled.
Eyes sharp, locked on her like he’d been doing nothing else for the past seventy-two hours.
She almost laughed. Not because it was funny, because this was so him. Last-minute, dramatic, absurd.
Just like she'd heard from Narada.
What made her fall in love with him without even seeing him.
He looked at her with his head tilted, as if he knew everything she was thinking. Like she hadn’t needed to write a single word.
He held out his hand.
The world stopped for her. She didn't look at anyone's reactions, but her actions were proudly announcing See, I was right. He came. For me.
When her fingers curled around his, it felt like everything she hadn’t been allowed to say had finally spoken.
“Late. You were late, Krishna,” she muttered.
He smirked. “You didn’t put a time in the letter, Rukmini.”
"I did. Indirectly. Through my urgency, Swami."
Rukmini knew her brother’s messengers had already been dispatched. That he was riding towards them.
She also knew no one could separate her and her Swami now.
