Mahina, the capital city of Durja

Several horses galloped through the High Road sending clouds of sand in their wake. Dhruva, at the front of the troop stirred his horse to the shanty part of the city, Nanthir, leading the rest. The news from the squalid district often never made it to palace and if it did, that will be an old news by then. Lucky for him, he had several kshetrapala, the local guards to share him the news that needs the palace's immediate attention.

The new report from the kshetrapala was the last thing he feared to happen. At once, he summoned for his horse and charged towards Nanthir, a part of Durja neglected by the administration. For the past few years since he had been crowned as the next in line to the throne, Dhruva had been meticulously involved in attempts to upgrade the lives of the people in the shanty towns of the city. He had promised them to bring their petitions to the court, to bring light to their lives.

He nudged his horse to speed up, tear trickled down his cheeks, he had to see them, those he had wronged. To see his failure, to see what his unfulfilled promise had done to him and the people who believed him. Abandoning their mounts at the front, Dhruva and his guards entered the narrow path of the slum disregarding the pools of muddy water and wet cloths hang on their way. Minutes later, they came to a halt where the entire slum gathered.

Nanthir was grieving for the loss of two families. Seven of them, who were verbally abused by the nagarapalas, the city guards for simply refusing to adhere to the new addition of tax set by the finance minister. A burden added to their mountain of tribulation that had finally pushed them take their lives.

Dhruva's presences at the mourning ground had amplified the cries of the folks in the slum. Each one wailed as they lamented over the deceased. There laid the dead, a prove of his failure to fulfil his promise. Dhruva and his guards paid their last respect, before pulling themselves out of the crowd with one of the elders in tow.

"Those nagarapalas were heinous this time, son," said the elder. "You need to appeal on our behalf once again. Implying heavy taxes on us poor isn't fair when our daily wages is just enough for two meals a day for a family of four," he added.

Dhruva knew how much it might mean to them if just one tax out of three were abolished. Having spent most his days in Nanthir and other slums, he was well aware of the discriminatory treatment given by the guards working under the ministers, landlords and noblemen. As a young man from the royal house, Dhruva would warn them to behave and the warning only sustain as long as he was there—a futile effort.

"I will fight for you until your voices are heard. I'll make sure it happens this year." Dhruva left with yet another promise.

"You need to help us. If not you then who will. No one here cares for poor people like us, no one bothers to understand us."

The plea of the helpless people from the shanty parts of the city rang in his ears ever since the year's pilgrimage season had begun. Their cries grew louder in the back of his mind even more after the death of the seven people. What can he do when every suggestion of his gets disregarded nonetheless by the queen?

"Tomorrow is my last opportunity for the year," Dhruva mumbled to himself as he left Nanthir in the day's dusk.

**-*-*-**-*-*

The natural light spill through the high windows of the huge and lofty council chamber. The tall windows ran along one side of the wall served as a perfect ventilator during the humid day. At the centre, a long bronze table dominated the space, its surface engraved with two war elephants of Durja in an invincible combat. The complex artwork spread the breadth of the table, along which some high chairs were arranged. The table were occupied by the crown prince, royal advisors and ministers, the king and the queen of Durja seated at the head of the table, side by side. Gentle breeze of the east kept the room cool as the heated discussion were in progress.

"With due respect to the honourable finance minister. I once again oppose the continuation of the annual taxation for the upcoming Vinayagar Chaturthi. This extra tax is burdening the people," enunciated the crown prince. Average in height and muscular in built, Dhruva, the crown prince of Durja raised from his seat to object the tax value implied by the minister.

It was time he put away his uncertainty and stand firm for his people. He needed to be resolute in his stand to break the perception of the young, naive and inexperience prince the council members have on him. Dhruva's piercing gaze fell on the finance minister seated on the opposite row. Festive seasons in Durja often meant more expanses for people and surely not for celebrating reasons, thanks to him, thought Dhruva.

The festive celebration, Vinayagar Chaturthi was an adapted festive from the neighbouring country. Hundreds of years ago when the entire Mayavathi was under the rule of an emperor, he visited a neighbouring country called Bharata. In a country rich in culture and tradition, the emperor had immersed himself in devotion to the elephant headed God, Ganesha. The stories of Lord Ganesha enchanted the emperor and had him adopt a couple of cultures from Bharata to his nation, Mayavathi. Since then, Vinayagar Chaturthi has been celebrated vastly even after the nation had split into three different countries; Kamakshya, Lambodara and Shoolin. But the split had brought one change to the people of Durja, a kingdom in Lambodara, to pay tax.

Having known most of the families had helped him understand the tribulation on the under-privilege people and venturing into slums gave him a better insight. The extra taxes had tormented them in the name of comfort pilgrimage in the past. For him, taxing the people for the pilgrimage to Mount Gaja was ridiculous when not even half of Durja would go on a pilgrimage.

The crown prince did a quick scan of the gentlemen seated before him. They all showed mockery, ignorance and doubts on him for one reason, the queen's wariness on him. It wasn't a new thing for him, he had been experiencing such treatment for so long, he had lost count. However, unshaken by their demeanour, Dhruva stood determined to convince the king to abolish the pilgrimage tax, this time at least.

The short hefty man in his mid-fifties shifted in his seat scratching his thick salt-and-pepper beard. Varadarajan took no more than a minute to raise from his seat and provided a valid reason to why his scheme had been working and will do so in future. "Prince Dhruva, allow me to enlighten you that we implement this tax for we will need to use the royal treasury funds for our militaries, redeveloping our infrastructure and for the families living below poverty line. Furthermore, the tax is for them to have a comfortable journey to offer their prayers. The treasury will not use a single coin for other purpose, my prince." Varadarajan dramatically bowed.

Dhruva took a moment to analyse Varadarajan's defence. Ever since the crown prince became a part of the administration though only as an onlooker, neither did the taxing made any changes in the wages for the soldiers and labours nor were there any reconstruction done both inside and outside of the city. Varadarajan seemed to cover up something in the name of redevelopment.

"Are you telling us that you are saving the treasury funds to pay the soldiers and construction labours while taking more money from the people for their once-a-year pilgrimage purpose? And if Durja is implementing the tax for their comfortable voyage, then why aren't they given the kind of trip they pay for to Mount Gaja all these years?" countered Dhruva, a few of the ministers agree with him.

Dhruva turned to the king, Yogathepan and the queen, Kumudhavalli seated at the head of the long table holding an indifferent expression on the discussion. "Your Highness, I request for a reconsideration and re-evaluation on the tax implementation and royal funds immediately. A transparent record of the funds will help us serve our people rightfully. The council must have also noticed that I spend most of my time with the people thus, it is regretful to say the citizens aren't happy with the additional annual tax eating up their savings," reiterated the crown prince and bowed respectfully as he spoke. "It's a humble request to the maharaja, to look upon this matter."

Dhruva settled down on the cold wooden chair he had left a while ago. His eyes trained towards Varadarajan and to the rest of the ministers in the same row. He had only one resolution, to abolish the tax and fulfil the promise he made to the people. How could a royal household consist of highly experienced ministers approve such decision? Doesn't people's misery a problem for them to solve? Don't they care for the people they supposedly took oath to serve?

As the king and queen discussed in a whisper, the rest of the council begun chattering in a hush. From those sat close to Dhruva, their words fell on his ears.

"This year is a challenging one for Lord Varadarajan. He is being attacked by the prince repeatedly," the minister of agriculture commented.

"Yes, yes indeed! We can also say that this is an indication of the future king's reigning," said another minister.

Dhruva stifled a laugh, each time he raises the issue, these ministers say the same but no one stood with him when his suggestions were rejected. Being a crown prince doesn't always have its perks.

The king cleared his throat silencing the chamber. "Considering the thoughtful suggestion of Prince Dhruva, the queen and I have made our decision to look through the previous years' financial records of Durja. The records will be presented to the council members comprises of the decision makers. The rest of the committee will not be needed for the assessment," said Yogathepan hinting that his son, the crown prince wasn't welcomed for the inspection.

"We will meet again here in two days and I shall announce our decision on the tax implementation then. That is all." Yogathepan briefly glanced his ministers before heading out of the chamber accompanied by his queen consort.

Although king Yogathepan's decision pleased Dhruva, a part of him demanded he should have been considered into joining the inspection of the financial records for he had raised the issue. Why am I not invited to involve in such matters? Am I not eligible yet even after being named as the crown prince? After resolving issues of common people and interstate affairs? Questions sprawled in the back of his mind as he stared vacantly at the garden through the tall windows. 

If he were to rebuke the king's choice of companions for the inspection, he might disrespect the king in front of the household and that will do no good to any of them. Hence, the right choice was to stay silent and wait for the final decision.

And the only question remained in him was, will the king abolish the tax?

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