Last January I went to Jaipur,
The pink city as they say.
In the stories of the Maharaja's
I almost found my way.
The stories had a lot of fights.
Some at home and some in distant sites.
But the climax of each story
had twists and plight.
The Palaces were big and long,
As I entered through the monstrous gate
I heard a gypsy from a distance, singing
some local song.
Beyond these infinitely long walls
There were few who took calls
For all the people of the state.
It would not be wrong to say that
The King decided their fate.
The King had many queens
and was mostly busy fighting.
The wars that were mostly
necessary and frightening.
The king defeated all and
protected his kingdom.
But took notice
of his own family seldom.
The throne would go to the eldest son.
But the third queen would not listen.
She wanted her son to be the king.
So that his legend is what the gypsy's would sing.
She plotted against her own family
but fortunately for the kingdom
Her plans failed in tandem.
Her motive was no longer a secret
her allegations grew stronger
and plans became direct.
The King was surprised to discover
her true intentions.
He started to notice her in regular
Interventions.
She was finally confessed to her crimes
When she was questioned.
She stabbed herself multiple times
When she saw herself positioned
next to the guards.
Now all that is left of her
Is the story as a stern reminder.
Not as a legend but
Insults that the gypsies hurl.
