Page 30 of Trapped By the Maharaja
As soon as they stepped in, Ram bent to touch his mother’s feet. Sanjana followed, knowing it was a ritual to seek blessings.
Rose petals were showered from above by the attendants, but the fragrance didn’t soften the tension.
When Ram and Sanjana stood up, Suchitra Devi looked at Sanjana.
“Welcome, Sanjana,” she said quietly, her tone neither cold nor warm. “The Devara Maharani.”
The words were ceremonial, but Sanjana felt a cold chill.
I don’t want to be the Devara Maharani. I want to be free.
Sanjana wanted to shout those words, but she kept calm.
Suchitra Devi looked back at her son. “Take your bride to your grandmother.”
The words were soft. But they held the weight of a royal command.
Ram gave a nod, then led Sanjana.
Sanjana’s legs felt heavy beneath the weight of the saree and the pressure of so many eyes as Ram led her through palace’s maze of halls. She blindly looked ahead as they went past arched doorways, lit galleries, and age-old portraits of Ram’s ancestors.
Finally, Ram stopped before a carved door guarded by two palace guards.
The guards bowed without question and stepped aside. Inside was a waiting room.
“Tell Grandmother I’ve come,” Ram stated to an aging maid.
“Yes,yuvraj,” the woman replied before disappearing into another room.
A few moments later, the aging maid returned.
“Rani Vasundara Devi will receive you now,yuvraj,” she said.
The carved doors opened into a large suite with a sitting area.
Velvet drapes filtered the sunlight. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood, dried rose petals.
Sitting upright in a carved rosewood armchair, her posture as rigid as her stare, was a woman who appeared to be in her eighties. Sanjana knew it must be Ram’s grandmother.
Her presence dominated the room. Her silver-white hair was pinned into a braided bun, and a star-shaped diamond nose ring glinted against her dusky skin. Her silk shawl, dark maroon with gold borders, was draped over her shoulders. Her fingers rested on an ebony cane inlaid with gold.
Her eyes landed on Ram. And then on Sanjana.
Sanjana felt a presence behind her.
It was Suchitra Devi who entered the suite and bowed slightly.
“Ma,” she greeted her mother. “There’s an important announcement.”
“I heard,” Vasundara Devi replied, her voice sharp and cold. “But I want to hear it from your oldest son’s mouth.”
Sanjana’s heart raced as Ram spoke.
“I got married today at the Devara ancestral temple,” Ram announced. “This is my wife, Sanjana Shetty.”
His grandmother’s wrinkled face remained unmoved. Her gaze turned to Sanjana, assessing her with piercing scrutiny.
“You married a commoner,” Vasundara Devi snapped, her disapproval razor-sharp.
