The heavy stone walls of Junagarh Palace no longer felt somber today. The atmosphere in Prabhasha's room had filled with a gentle serenity. Prabhasha was now fast asleep on the royal couch. Under the magical influence of her sister's tender touch and the affectionate stroking of her head, the burning agony of her fever had completely calmed down. Snigdha had spent a long time running her fingers through her sister's hair to lull her to sleep. Looking at that innocent face, tears of guilt repeatedly welled up in the corners of Snigdha's eyes. She thought, "Is this the face I turned away in hatred yesterday?" To the sister who followed her like a shadow, she had wanted to make her a stranger, driven by an unknown obsession!
Once Prabhasha's sleep grew deep, Snigdha rose silently and sat on the balcony by the window. Outside, a magical flood of moonlight was streaming down. The silvery moon stood still in the middle of the sky, bathing the palace turrets in an ethereal light. The mysterious, terrifying scent of the 'rotting tiger' drifting from the forest seemed to be suppressed tonight by the sweet fragrance of Kamini flowers. But Snigdha's mind no longer felt the old thrill. Sitting by the window and staring at the moon, Prafulla's harsh yet absolute truths began to ring in her ears repeatedly.
During their quarrel, Prafulla had said— "What will that worthless fellow feed you after marriage? One who cannot even feed himself, what will he give a Princess? Do you think after marriage he will fill your stomach only with that filthy love and sweet words?"
Until now, Snigdha had dismissed these words as jealousy and malice. She had thought Prafulla didn't understand the dignity of her love. But tonight, in this solitary hour, sitting in the cool moonlight, she wondered— was Prafulla right after all? Rupanjan could sing beautiful songs; he could stand in the secluded corners of the forest and recite magical poems; Snigdha even lost herself in the subtle hints of his eyes. But does life run on just songs and poetry?
Snigdha became lost in deep thought. She mused, "Rupanjan is the son of a common subject. He neither has a specific profession nor the gravity required to manage royal affairs. He spends all day roaming the forest edges and weaving webs of dreams. But what about me? I am the Princess of this vast Junagarh Palace. The weight of nobility, responsibility, and royal tradition rests on my shoulders. If I were to marry him, what would the future look like? When real life knocks on our door, will Rupanjan be able to provide the protection that my brother provides today?
When the household needs food and clothing after marriage, will Rupanjan's sweet songs be able to satisfy my hunger? Prafulla's words were indeed true! He will pass the days just feeding me fairy tales. Can my mind, raised in royal opulence, spend a lifetime in a humble hut just listening to stories of love? Today, I rush to him because I am blinded by love, but tomorrow, when scarcity strikes, will even a shred of this love remain?"
Rupanjan's smiling face floated before Snigdha's eyes. But in that smile, she no longer found the security she once did. She began to wonder— was Rupanjan truly a coward? Someone who wants to hide in the shadow of a Princess's love instead of creating a foundation beneath his own feet? A man who knows his lover is the heir to a massive empire—did he not think of his own worth even once?
Looking at the silver arches of the palace glistening in the moonlight, Snigdha's illusion began to shatter. She realized that Prafulla's rebukes did not come from malice, but from a deep sense of responsibility and concern for his sister's well-being. Snigdha sighed and thought that her attraction to Rupanjan might be deep, but it had no foundation. Prafulla's harsh truths kindled a new light of wisdom in Snigdha's heart today. She decided that no love could be greater than the dignity of the dynasty and the bond of blood. To build a life with a man who only knows how to show dreams but lacks the ability to provide bread would be a monumental mistake.
In the silence of the night, Snigdha remained by the window. A new resolve was born in her heart. Those rose-tinted glasses of love seemed to fall off today, and she saw a harsh reality—one where life does not run on poetry, but on hard logic and responsibility. She knew that tomorrow's sunrise would bring a new Snigdha to life—one who is no longer a slave to her emotions, but a discerning Princess.