Her sword advanced swiftly cutting air into thin slashes of nothingness. Beads of her sweat fell on earth like raindrops, gratifying its crazy cacoethes. Malvika was now extremely tired and panted heavily as her muscles begged for some rest.

The sun had left the lap of eastern horizon and now sprinkled glitter across all elements. Malvika put her sword aside and ambled towards a lake that lounged nearby.

She knelt down and looked at the pristine clear waters. She could see herself, or more aptly, a version of herself that was far away from being called a princess. She was stained, spotted and terribly disorganised. Her hair was muddled and clothes filthy.

“Disappointment… that is what you are to me, Malvika!” Her mother’s words rang in her ears. A drop of her saline tears fell and lost its individuality among the sweet waters of the lake. The nascent ripples mosaiced her image plus her consciousness.

“Am I really destined to do this?” Neurons in her brain bombarded the princess with delusional questions.

Just then, besides herself, she saw blurry image of her father in the waters. Malvika immediately stood up, turned around and bowed down to King Kaivalya. She gently wiped her tears away, so impeccably that she thought her act would escape her father’s notice. But her attempt was futile.

“My senses get filled with pride when I look upon you, Malvika. I can boldly declare that no other country will be so fortunate to cherish a warrior like you.” The King’s placating words enabled Malvika to resume breathing normally, but the burden on her chest still seemed heavier than the Himalayas.

“I wish mother could think like you and be proud of me as well, father.”

“You see in life, my child, you will always have people who are upset with you, who won’t support you. But should that discourage you and hamper your progress?”

Malvika was silent.