Song of the Desert
Chapter 1
All the pre-wedding ceremonies were taking place in Jaisalmer and Jodhpur including the grand wedding. Prithvi would get time to spend in India and widen his business interests, something he had been meaning to do for a long time now.
Right now he did not have business on his mind, he was waiting for his enemies who had come to know about his presence in Rajasthan and were waiting for him. His grandfather Akhairaj Chauhan, Alfred, sister Pratha and brother Sumer had already planned for a rich royal ceremony for the engagement and the wedding to be held within the week. Prithvi had not been able to warn them about the presence of his enemies, he hoped that his enemies would not target his present family and his wife to be. Deep down he knew he was hoping for too much. Preoccupied by the killers of his parents, he had found a link after ten years all leading to one man who was responsible for him being alone these many years without the love of his parents or his siblings who had been sent away for protection. Now He was on the move for revenge.
Prithvi remembered the day clearly when he had lost them, unable to control his tears even today after so many years. He missed them very much but it had made him strong, for he had been forced to bring himself up as a soldier always ready for battle.
His father had started a small empire which he had helped grow, although very well off he was alone. From the age of seven Prithvi had been living with his butler and the butler‟s wife as his official guardians. The butler Alfred, was actually his father‟s butler and Prithvi found solace in this last faint reminder of his parents and the life that could have been.
The killers had not only killed his parents but also destroyed his family. His elder brother and sister now lived safe with his paternal grandparents in Rajasthan, who refused to acknowledge him. A blood feud that had been started by his paternal grandfather had destroyed the small world of a child, all because of right of succession. They wanted the heir apparent to come from the eldest son a line of successors to sit on the throne but his father had chosen the youngest son instead in his last will.
Like most blood feuds this one also had not ended with the death of the first target - his father, instead it progressed to the next line, Prithvi was the target now. His parents had been killed by his their own cousin Amar Singh, step son of Sangram Singh Chauhan, Prithvi‟s paternal grandfather. All for a throne! And to what end?
Amar Singh died from pancreatic cancer not long after Prithvi‟s father‟s death. The throne had gone to the eldest son Pratap Singh who was now the commissioner of police in Jaipur. But Pratap Singh chose not to sit on the throne and let his father Sangram Singh continue to rule and let the succession pass on to the grandchildren instead – the eldest or whoever was named, in this case Prithvi.
What Prithvi did not know then was that the enemy was someone else now, not the same individual who had killed his father.
Prithvi often repeated to himself and Alfred, “Let them come, I will fight fire with fire. I will survive and one day whoever you might be, you will face my wrath.”It was an oath he took on the tombs of his parents every year. This year he would fulfill his vow. “Grandpa, I will be back soon.” He promised his maternal grandfather who understood that he had some business to finish.
Prithvi sat waiting in the Shiva temple in the middle of the desert. A simple mud and brick structure built in the 12th century; it had no designs or patterns just plain walls all around.
He had been there in fact for over four days now, just sitting, thinking and staring out into the distance. He wore a black outfit - a traditional lungi and just a shawl covering his shoulders. His face was covered completely with a black cloth, and he waited for the seven men to arrive. The seven men who had been paid to kill him in Jodhpur.
These would be the last of the lot who had been directed by his enemy, he knew it was his paternal grandfather. He had come to know of this long held secret after he had landed at the Jodhpur airport. His uncle the commissioner had put every effort to gather all the information about different individuals from the first attack right up till now. The conclusive information had left his uncle speechless – his own father, Prithvi‟s paternal grandfather who was behind all the attempts to murder Prithvi.
The temple priest Niranjan was surprised to find a young man sitting still for four days without drinking water or sleeping. Silent and very much alert Prithvi watched the horizon and soon he saw the dust rise and knew the men had arrived.
He stood up and stretched his body letting his shawl drop and exposing the naked sword he held in his hands. This was the day he would finish the feud. Once and for all.
In the last four days his entire life had passed before his eyes. It felt weird and out of body, like watching a movie in which he was the main lead.
Everything had been easy until his father was killed and then his mother.
It all ended today.
Right now he did not have business on his mind, he was waiting for his enemies who had come to know about his presence in Rajasthan and were waiting for him. His grandfather Akhairaj Chauhan, Alfred, sister Pratha and brother Sumer had already planned for a rich royal ceremony for the engagement and the wedding to be held within the week. Prithvi had not been able to warn them about the presence of his enemies, he hoped that his enemies would not target his present family and his wife to be. Deep down he knew he was hoping for too much. Preoccupied by the killers of his parents, he had found a link after ten years all leading to one man who was responsible for him being alone these many years without the love of his parents or his siblings who had been sent away for protection. Now He was on the move for revenge.
Prithvi remembered the day clearly when he had lost them, unable to control his tears even today after so many years. He missed them very much but it had made him strong, for he had been forced to bring himself up as a soldier always ready for battle.
His father had started a small empire which he had helped grow, although very well off he was alone. From the age of seven Prithvi had been living with his butler and the butler‟s wife as his official guardians. The butler Alfred, was actually his father‟s butler and Prithvi found solace in this last faint reminder of his parents and the life that could have been.
The killers had not only killed his parents but also destroyed his family. His elder brother and sister now lived safe with his paternal grandparents in Rajasthan, who refused to acknowledge him. A blood feud that had been started by his paternal grandfather had destroyed the small world of a child, all because of right of succession. They wanted the heir apparent to come from the eldest son a line of successors to sit on the throne but his father had chosen the youngest son instead in his last will.
Like most blood feuds this one also had not ended with the death of the first target - his father, instead it progressed to the next line, Prithvi was the target now. His parents had been killed by his their own cousin Amar Singh, step son of Sangram Singh Chauhan, Prithvi‟s paternal grandfather. All for a throne! And to what end?
Amar Singh died from pancreatic cancer not long after Prithvi‟s father‟s death. The throne had gone to the eldest son Pratap Singh who was now the commissioner of police in Jaipur. But Pratap Singh chose not to sit on the throne and let his father Sangram Singh continue to rule and let the succession pass on to the grandchildren instead – the eldest or whoever was named, in this case Prithvi.
What Prithvi did not know then was that the enemy was someone else now, not the same individual who had killed his father.
Prithvi often repeated to himself and Alfred, “Let them come, I will fight fire with fire. I will survive and one day whoever you might be, you will face my wrath.”It was an oath he took on the tombs of his parents every year. This year he would fulfill his vow. “Grandpa, I will be back soon.” He promised his maternal grandfather who understood that he had some business to finish.
Prithvi sat waiting in the Shiva temple in the middle of the desert. A simple mud and brick structure built in the 12th century; it had no designs or patterns just plain walls all around.
He had been there in fact for over four days now, just sitting, thinking and staring out into the distance. He wore a black outfit - a traditional lungi and just a shawl covering his shoulders. His face was covered completely with a black cloth, and he waited for the seven men to arrive. The seven men who had been paid to kill him in Jodhpur.
These would be the last of the lot who had been directed by his enemy, he knew it was his paternal grandfather. He had come to know of this long held secret after he had landed at the Jodhpur airport. His uncle the commissioner had put every effort to gather all the information about different individuals from the first attack right up till now. The conclusive information had left his uncle speechless – his own father, Prithvi‟s paternal grandfather who was behind all the attempts to murder Prithvi.
The temple priest Niranjan was surprised to find a young man sitting still for four days without drinking water or sleeping. Silent and very much alert Prithvi watched the horizon and soon he saw the dust rise and knew the men had arrived.
He stood up and stretched his body letting his shawl drop and exposing the naked sword he held in his hands. This was the day he would finish the feud. Once and for all.
In the last four days his entire life had passed before his eyes. It felt weird and out of body, like watching a movie in which he was the main lead.
Everything had been easy until his father was killed and then his mother.
It all ended today.