Chapter 55: chapter 55

S A N M A Y I The day began quietly, without the looming weight of the crown or the echoes of rebellion that had so often colored our lives. In the soft glow of the morning, when the light filtered through the trees like golden threads weaving through the fabric of the world, Ranajay and I found ourselves walking along the banks of the river, far from the watchful eyes of the court.The river here, though no different from the others that wound through the land, seemed to speak a language of its own, flowing with a grace that made the world feel smaller, simpler, and more intimate. The sounds of our footsteps, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the distant calls of birds were the only things that filled the space between us. It was a rare thing—this quiet between two people who had been through so much. And yet, in this rare moment, it felt as if everything else had faded away.Ranajay had suggested the walk, and I had followed without hesitation. There was no reason to stay in the palace with its cold stone walls and endless paperwork, no reason to return to the bitter realities of Amaravati’s fragile peace. I needed a moment to breathe, and so did he. We had both been running for so long, from our pasts, from our responsibilities, from each other. Today, there was no running. Just the simple rhythm of walking together.We passed a grove of trees, their branches heavy with fruit, and Ranajay picked a small, bright yellow pear from one of the lower boughs, tossing it into his hand and inspecting it with a careful eye.“This is the kind of pear my mother used to pick from these trees,” he said, looking at me. “There’s a tree like this in the palace courtyard, but I don’t think it’s ever borne fruit like this.”I took the pear from his hand and smiled. “There’s a certain peace that comes with a place like this. In the palace, everything is so… stiff. Every corner is designed for something grand. But here—” I looked around, letting my gaze wander across the open expanse, “—here everything simply is. No pretense, no grandeur.”“You’re right,” he agreed, his voice softer now. “It’s easy to forget what life can be like when everything around you is shaped by ambition and duty. Sometimes I wonder what life would’ve been like if I’d been born just a commoner. If I could have lived in a house like this, by the river, free of the crown.”I glanced at him, surprised by the honesty in his words. “What stopped you?”He hesitated, then shrugged. “Duty. Fear. I never really had a choice, did I?”I could see the weight of his words in his eyes, but I knew the truth of them as well as he did—there is always a choice. Even if it’s a hard one.We sat down on a moss-covered stone, the coolness of it a relief from the warmth of the sun. I handed the pear back to him. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said yesterday,” I began, my voice quiet but steady. “About moving forward, about leaving the past behind.”Ranajay looked at me, the weight of his gaze making my heart beat faster. “I meant every word, Sanmayi. We can’t change what’s happened, but we can choose what comes next.”The simplicity of his words, so devoid of the complexity and entanglements we often found ourselves in, made me feel as though we were both stepping into an unknown but beautiful future together. But as I opened my mouth to speak, he stopped me with a finger to my lips.“Wait,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been meaning to teach you something. You told me once that you don’t understand the old proverbs of Amaravati. Well, today, I’m going to change that.”I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”He chuckled, shaking his head. “You have so much to learn, Sanmayi. Let me teach you a few things that my father taught me when I was younger.”He leaned back, his eyes half-closed as if summoning the ancient words from a place deep within him. “There’s an old saying from Amaravati that goes like this: ‘The winds change with the seasons, but the river’s course is set by the mountains.’ It’s about staying true to who you are, no matter how much the world shifts around you.”I nodded slowly, turning the words over in my mind. “And how do you interpret that?”Ranajay paused, his eyes distant for a moment, and I could see the gears turning in his mind. “It’s about resilience. About understanding that you can’t control everything, but you can control the way you respond. The seasons will change, and storms will come, but you stay true to your path. You stay true to your values.”I felt a warmth spread through me as I processed his words. “I think I understand. It’s about balance, isn’t it?”“Exactly,” he said, a small smile playing at his lips. “Now, I’ll teach you another one.” He cleared his throat, speaking in a more formal tone, as though he were a teacher and I a student. “‘The sun’s warmth is felt by all, but the shadow is cast by the tallest tree.’”I thought about it for a moment, then spoke hesitantly. “It means that power and influence affect everyone, but they also create division. The taller the tree, the longer the shadow.”He grinned, clearly pleased. “You’re learning faster than I expected.”I couldn’t help but smile back. “I suppose the lessons of Amaravati aren’t so difficult after all.”Ranajay laughed, his eyes lighting up with genuine mirth. “No, they’re not so difficult. But sometimes, it takes someone like you to help me understand them again.”The moment hung between us, and for the first time in a long time, the past, with its hurt and its scars, seemed a distant memory. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the present—the quiet exchange of ideas, the shared joy of learning from one another.And then, as if to add to the simplicity of the moment, I began to sing. It was a soft, simple folk song from my kingdom, a song I had learned when I was younger but hadn’t sung in years. The words were filled with longing, a yearning for home, for peace, and for love. My voice was soft, almost shy at first, but soon Ranajay joined in, his voice blending with mine, the harmony of two people who had, for so long, been divided by their worlds, but now stood together in this moment of pure connection.When the song ended, the silence between us was comfortable, full of understanding. “I didn’t know you could sing,” he said, his voice low.“I didn’t know you could teach,” I replied, teasing him gently.We both laughed, and the world around us seemed to pause, holding its breath. In this small space, free from the weight of thrones and rebellions, we had discovered something far more valuable: the language of love, not in grand gestures, but in the quiet moments that spoke of shared histories, shared dreams, and a future we could build together.