The next morning, the mechanical horse worked again.
“The parts didn’t break. They were misaligned,”Bharat had said calmly. There were slight shadows beneath his eyes from lack of sleep.
Suchitra knew he must have stayed up the night working on the toy to fix it.
Bharat hadn’t sought appreciation, and neither had he felt any pride for fixing a complicated toy. But he had stiffened slightly when Samar clung to his leg in gratitude.
Suchitra had gently pried Samar away from his brother and placed him on the toy horse.
Since that day, she had realized that Bharat did not let go of broken things. He studied them, understood them, and then worked on them until they began to work again.
Some called it an obsession, but she thought of it as dedication.
“Rajmata,” the staff member standing outside the dining room greeted in a deferential tone.
Suchitra turned towards the entrance to see her mother, Rani Vasundara Devi, entering the dining hall.
Normally, Suchitra’s mother chose to eat in her private suite. But on rare occasions, the family matriarch joined Suchitra and the rest of the family at the dining table.
Rani Vasundara Devi’s gaze swept over the royal dining table, where everyone stood up and greeted her, including Bharat. But her gaze remained fixed on him.
“Why are you not looking at me?” she demanded. “How many times must I tell you to look people in the eye while greeting?”
Bharat did not respond immediately, even though he knew his grandmother was addressing him.
The Rajmata’s voice hardened as she looked at Suchitra. “He should be disciplined until he follows orders. People are already talking about how Rani Suchitra Devi’s second-born son is mad.”
Ram immediately came to the defense of his younger brother. “Bharat is not mad,” Ram said firmly.
Rani Vasundara Devi glared at Ram for daring to speak back to her. “Your brother avoids royal ceremonies and festivalsbecause they are loud. He doesn’t look at people or talk to them. He doesn’t cry or laugh. He is cold and emotionless. He is unfit to be the Jogra maharaja.”
The last words lingered in the air.
“Enough, mother,” Suchitra said with calm authority that broke the royal protocol.
Even though Suchitra held four royal titles, she was still a princess at the Rewa Palace, where her mother held the highest authority.
Rani Vasundara’s lips thinned at being silenced.
“Bharat is already the Jogra Maharaja,” Suchitra said, her voice calm but edged with steel. “The title passed to him the moment his father died. And no one in this palace will question his birthright or call him names.”
Silence followed.
“My son may not cry or laugh loudly,” Suchitra continued. “But Bharat feels deeply. He simply expresses it differently.”
Bharat raised his head and met his grandmother’s gaze. “I am not mad,” he said with quiet intensity. “I understand everything.”
Suchitra’s heart ached and then swelled with pride watching her son standing up to authority.
Rani Vasundara Devi's gaze wavered at the intensity in his eyes. She didn’t say anything more as they sat down and continued with their meal.
After dinner, Suchitra once again returned to her suite to nurse her youngest son. Viraj was barely a year old and already trying to walk after his older brothers. She knew he would join them soon in playing in the courtyard.
With a smile, she rocked Viraj to sleep.
The storm softened into a steady rain when she carried Viraj along towards the Eastern suite.
Inside the large suite, Ram and Samar were asleep in their beds. But Bharat sat by the window, watching the clearing sky. Suchitra carefully placed Viraj into a cradle before joining him.
