The opulent chambers of the royal family in Ujjain were aglow with flickering oil lamps, casting warm light against intricately carved walls adorned with tapestries depicting heroic tales. As the evening descended, the atmosphere was thick with relief and disbelief.

King Dilip and King Jayasen, still reeling from the day's events, leaned heavily against ornate seats, their expressions a mix of gratitude and anxiety.

"Aaj toh laga ki humare praan nikal hi jaayenge." Dilip sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Jayasen nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed, "Aaj tak Haiheya-kul se hone ka garv tha, aaj iss baat ka bhaye lag raha tha."

Near them, King Shekhar and Crown-prince Prithvik exchanged wary glances, "Ishvar ki kripa hai, Parshuram krodhit nahi the. Anyatha hume bhi laga ki jo hashra treta yug mei kshatriyo ka huya tha, woh humara ho jaayega." The aged king said.

Prithvik, unable to contain his thoughts, added, "Bhala ho Krishneshwari ka, usne Parshuram ko prasann kar diya."

Tensions ebbed as laughter occasionally broke through, the weight of the day’s events gradually dissipating. They discussed the daunting legacy of their kshatriya lineage, and the implications of Parshuram's visit.

As the night deepened, their thoughts shifted, meandering through the histories of their kingdoms. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and jasmine, blending seamlessly with the faint echoes of a distant veena melody, creating an atmosphere steeped in regal tranquility.

Gradually, the discourse deepened, shifting towards their storied lineages, tales of valor and ancient alliances that bound their families. Each anecdote revealed the strength of their heritage, the intertwined fates of their kingdoms. Laughter mingled with reflections on the challenges of governance, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences.

Later they began to speak of their kingdoms, the rich lands and flourishing trade, but soon the tone turned serious. Concerns over external threats loomed large, and whispers of discontent among the populace crept into their discourse.

Nearby, the playful laughter of Princess Krishneshwari and Princess Mitravinda echoed through the chamber, painting a stark contrast to the solemnity of the kings’ discourse. The young princesses, oblivious to the weighty matters at hand, darted between majestic pillars adorned with intricate carvings, their silken garments billowing like petals in the breeze.

Krishneshwari, with her long braid swinging behind her, chased Mitravinda, who giggled as she twirled, her golden bangles jingling like playful chimes. With joyous shrieks, they spun in circles, the innocence of youth brightening the chamber. As the night deepened, the conversations of the kings flowed, yet the laughter of the young princesses danced around them, a sweet melody that brought warmth to the otherwise serious gathering.

Eventually, the princesses scampered over, their laughter weaving seamlessly into the serious undertones of their fathers’ conversation. Dilipsen and Jayasen smiled warmly, their expressions softening as they welcomed their daughters into their laps. Krishneshwari nestled against her father’s chest, while Mitravinda perched on Jayasen’s knee, their small hands clutching at the ornate fabric of their fathers’ garments.

As the kings stroked their daughters’ hair, their attention remained divided. King Shekhar continued to outline the unrest that was happening in Saurashtra, his voice low and urgent.

"Prithvik ne naye niyam laane ka prayas kiya, kintu Rajya ke vriddh mantri aaj bhi puraane vyavastha se jude huye hai." Shekhar said.

Prithvik, sitting attentively, had proposed innovative policies aimed at reform. Yet, despite his vision, the older advisors clung stubbornly to antiquated traditions, resisting change for fear of upheaval. 

Prithvik's brow furrowed, his youth contrasting with the rigidity of tradition. "Jabki mere dwara sujhaaye nitiya shaashtrayukt hai. Rajya ke varisht arthshaashtri inn parivartano ke paksh mei hai." 

Dilip’s brow furrowed in concern, while Jayasen contemplated the elders’ steadfastness to tradition, the archaic structures that bound their kingdoms.

Dilipsen thoughtfully said, "Vriddh-jan sadev naveen vastuo se bhayebhit rehte hai. Iss liye woh Prithvik ka sujhaav maan nahi rahe."

"Satyavachan." Jayasen nodded in agreement, his gaze steady. "Aur tum inn vriddh mantriyo ko kupit nahi kar sakte. Rajya ki sthirta ka prashn hai."

They understood that change was rarely welcomed by the elderly. They cling to tradition, fearing the unknown. The support of seasoned ministers is crucial to maintaining stability. Without them, even the most promising reforms could lead to chaos. However it couldn't be denied that innovation was essential for Saurashtra's prosperity.

Amidst the heavy discourse,  Krishneshwari and Mitravinda, seated snugly in their fathers' laps, listened intently. Their wide eyes darted between the serious faces of the kings, absorbing the weight of the discourse.

"Kintu unn vriddh mantriyo ko manana toh hoga, anyatha rajya ka vikas kaise hoga ?" Prithvik sighed.

Krishneshwari, her gaze unwavering, piped up, "Vriddh mantriyo ko kyu manana hai ?"

The sudden hush that enveloped the room held a curious tension. All eyes turned to the young princess with surprise.

With a determined sparkle, she continued, "Aap yuvaan mantriyo ko apne paksh mei laayiye. Aur praja ke yuvako se samarthan lijiye."

Her suggestion, simple yet profound, broke the solemnity that had gripped the room. The elders exchanged glances, their surprise morphing into thoughtful nods. Mitravinda, perched on her father’s knee, simply smiled.

"Toh praja ke yuvako ko apne paksh mei kaise laya jaaye ?" Shekhar inquired, intrigued yet skeptical.

Krishneshwari’s eyes sparkled with a wisdom beyond her years, "Saral hai. Guptcharo ko shishyo ke vesh mei vidyalaye mei bhejiye. Jisse woh chhaatro ko Mamashree ke sujhaavo ke laabh ke baare mei bataye, aur sabko aapke samarthan mei le aaye."

Her suggestion, delivered with childlike candor, was both daring and astute. The room was momentarily stunned into silence, the brilliance of her suggestion hanging heavily in the air. The men exchanged glances, processing the audacity of her proposal. It was a plan laced with ingenuity, one that could sway the course of political tides through the fervor of youth.

The weight of her words hung in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of her sharp intellect that belied her tender age.

Prithvik, still recovering from her bold suggestion, asked, "Aur unn vriddh mantriyo ka kya ?"

"Unka kya ? Woh kitne hi din jeevit rahenge ? Unke liye rajya ka bhavishya thodi daav par laga sakte hai." Krishneshwari replied with a casual shrug.

Her words echoed through the chamber, and a ripple of laughter broke the tension. The elders exchanged amused glances, their stern expressions softening as they contemplated her blunt wisdom.

Prithvik leaned back, chuckling. "Bahut bhayavaye buddhi hai tumhari, Krishneshwari."

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A/N

Krishneshwari telling how to use propaganda in the right way 🌝