SHE

When I look at this beauty, old and calm it seems like something ultimate in this world. The straight face, expressionless look and the serenity in it. It drives me mad to see that portrait of uneven sadness and sometimes it drives me nuts with the varied aura it carries along in itself.

The posture of the sitting lady, wearing the good old traditional jewellery, looking out of the window, face reflecting the years gone by but the beauty hidden somewhere in it and look into the eyes reminding of a glorious past.

When the apostles of this world sing their saga, it’s a world reflecting nothing but devilish intentions abound. Some faces remain same; some await the death of their and some just leave up on life’s demands. But this lady sitting in front of me is a fighter, a courageous wife, a devoted mother and a responsible heir of a traditional and royal family.

The life was not much of an easy play, first it was the fight for rights against the society then the fight for choosing life, but the fate had something in it, marriage was a big milestone and then the new palace and new people, it was really a fight against the odds for a girl, now a woman. A woman so brave who could fight for her kingdom, who could support her husband and still see the injustice done to her and the females in this world. She fought this world right from the time she was small, from refusing to understand that she couldn’t learn horse riding, till the time she actually got married to someone who she didn’t even see. It was not a just fight, for every time she fought she lost something precious. She lost her grace in front of her orthodox elders who thought an arguing girl is nothing but shame for her royal parents. A girl who was taught too much for a girl and a woman who knew too much for a wife and a mother who knew too much for a queen.......

Her life was an endless battle for justice for love for living for freedom and for the sky above her. She saw her husband surrounded by other woman, who ruled him, and he who chased him, for lust. It was she who was strong at that time when she knew it was the norm and it was she who knew that her husband was no one but just a womaniser and had to take charge of things concerning the ruling of her kingdom. It was she who threw him off his throne and made her son, whom she had taught and made into an able person. It was she who gave all the commands, it was she again who was questioned when she did all this. But she was adamant and believed in her deeds, she did right regarding all the matters of the state. It was she who made learning for the girls compulsory, and it was she who moved her province a bit towards modernisation. It was she who told her son about globalisation, and it was she who advised her son on getting married to the girl of his dreams.

She was a versatile personality, she always thought, the people who question about what the queens do should see what I have done. Till the time she became ripe, pride had taken over her. Her son had taken over her. Her drunken husband had died long back, and the world once again had turned against her. It was again the time to start fighting it was time and again the same old battle for life to commence. But now her fingers felt weak, she couldn’t hold a glass properly let alone a sword. She couldn’t raise her voice against her own son let alone the enemy. She was aging though gracefully, she felt sad, she felt let down.

Her own body had despised her, she couldn’t do anything, and she died already once she said to her family. She couldn’t fight; the fight for life was about the survival of the fittest. But she was weak in her mind and body. Her bones ached, she gave up and it was another death in her lifetime. This was the second time she died. Now when she looked outside the window waiting for her third death, which will give her ultimate freedom from life itself. She was tired of this helpless body, ornamented with grace and beauty. It was she who made me smile.

It was her weak smile when she saw me. It was the portrait of all that what mattered most. The one look said it all. For that she didn’t need to live, anyways she doesn’t. She is in that mysterious portrait hung on the wall... which tells her story.