From The Bottom Of My Heart by Arghya Dey - HTML preview

 I have no rebels

I am the king, almighty.

My subjects don't know how wise I am; They should boast for having me as their protector.

But some of them are so callous.

When I stud my kingdom beautifully, embed my bedroom with novel furniture from East, those prattles babble about me so much.

They say I squander money.

I hate those rebels.

I kill them or capture them in my dungeon, one-by-one.

So sublime is my feat.

Now I have none to soar from the unfathomable darkness of prisons and challenge me, my integrity towards my people.

Ah! What a peace it is!

Without rebels, I have a liberty to turn a little reckless.

I love my queen so much.

When she dies, like Shah Jehan, I will build a Taj Mahal instead of getting engulfed in languor.

I will wear the new mantle if I sit by her grave in the winter night.

Only the frail do cry.

That's why, I will bid my men to cry for her; They will get death if they are unable to bring tears at the rims of their eyes, hazed by a mist of winter.

Oh! How glad I am that I have no rebels.

Guard! Why are you pointing your lance towards me?

Oh! My darling, my queen, why are you glancing at me with askance? Flit the eyes or I will gouge! Cover them with your veil.

My wreath of roses, braided so nicely, is now turning into a crown of thorns.

My blue blood is turning red.

My beloved queen is turning traitor.

Now I finally have a rebel.

Or, may be I am surrounded by rebels, to have a tryst with some more.