Bhanu, the Council, and the Verse That Roared
đ The Scribe's Quill
In the hush after the council's storm, Bhanu lingered in the alcove. The air still vibrated with the aftershocks of the Sardars' arguments. Where others bristled with indignation, Bhanu's mind danced with humor. He reached for a supple mango leaf, dipped his quill in soot and neem oil, and dashed off a line that glimmered with wit:
"Jithe sardars bhidtat, tithe paan haste."
(Where the Sardars clash, the leaf laughs.)
He folded the leaf, tying it with red threadâa symbol of unbroken bondsâand slipped it to a palace pigeon. "Go," he whispered, "carry a little mischief on the wind."
đȘ¶ The Spread
By sundown, the verse was everywhere. Kitchen boys repeated it as a rhyme, cooks sang it over simmering pots, and guards whispered it behind their shields. Bhanu's satire was infectious. More verses followed, each sharper than the last:
"Ek yudh hote.
Ek shabd hota.
Ek sardar ghabarto."
(One war. One word. One sardar panicked.)
"Jithe veer shant hoto, tithe sabha gungun karte."
(Where the warrior is silent, the council hums.)
"Ek paan lihile.
Ek satya paratle."
(One leaf was written. One truth returned.)
Children played at being Sardars, mock-arguing and then dissolving into laughter, while merchants quoted the lines as they haggled, a shared joke joining high and low alike.
đ The Sardars React
Bhairav Rao, Jaisingh, and Devdatta burst into the archives, faces flushed with outrage. Bhairav Rao's voice cracked like a whip:
Bhairav Rao: "Enough! This insolence cannot go unanswered. Bhanu, you mock the council, you mock us all!"
Bhanu looked up, unflustered, a half-smile playing at his lips.
Bhanu: "Is it mockery if the truth tickles, Bhairav Rao? Or just a reflection too clear for comfort?"
Jaisingh slammed his fist onto the table, scattering a few stray leaves.
Jaisingh: "You think you're clever, hiding behind riddles and ink! You're undermining the very order of this palace!"
Bhanu met his glare with calm amusement.
Bhanu: "Ink cannot undermine what is firmly rooted. But perhaps your order is softer than you admit."
Devdatta snatched up one of the leaves, waving it accusingly.
Devdatta: "Thisâthis is poison. The people are laughing at us! You're planting seeds of rebellion!"
Bhanu leaned forward, his tone gentle but pointed.
Bhanu: "Satire is not poison, Devdatta. It is medicine. Laughter heals. But it also reveals where the wound festers."
Bhairav Rao's eyes narrowed.
Bhairav Rao: "Enough cleverness, Bhanu. Burn every last leaf. And if you write anotherâ"
Bhanu interrupted, voice as soft as velvet but sharp as a blade.
Bhanu: "You can burn leaves, Sardar. You cannot burn the wind that carries their laughter."
Jaisingh sneered.
Jaisingh: "The king will not tolerate this for long. Mark my words, your tongue will bring ruin to your friend Veeraj."
Bhanu's smile faded, replaced by a steely glint.
Bhanu: "Veeraj's courage doesn't need my words. But perhaps your fears do."
Bhairav Rao turned to the others, voice low and cold.
Bhairav Rao: "Meet me in my chambers tonight. If wit is their weapon, we will answer with something sharper. It's time Veeraj learns his place."
The three Sardars swept from the room, their eyes burning with new resolve.
In the shadows, the king watchedâsilent, unreadable. He slipped one of Bhanu's leaves into his sleeve, a ghost of a smile on his lips, but the air was heavy with the promise of darker schemes.
đż The Echo
That evening, Veeraj found a mango leaf at his door:
"He didn't win with swords. He won with silence. And Bhanu wrote the applause."
Veeraj laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. Meghraj, at his side, grinned. But beneath the laughter, Veeraj's eyes turned thoughtful. He knew the Sardars' pride would not suffer in silence.
Elsewhere in the palace, shadows lengthened. Bhanu's satire, bright as it was, had fanned the embers of old grudges. The spiral had spoken, but the council's game was about to turn deadly serious.
The Sardars' Plotting
The moon hung high above the palace, casting pale latticed shadows through the carved screens of Bhairav Rao's private chamber. Oil lamps flickered as Jaisingh and Devdatta entered, closing the heavy door behind them.
Bhairav Rao paced restlessly, jaw clenched.
Bhairav Rao: "He makes a mockery of us. Of the council. Of the very order that upholds this kingdom."
Jaisingh threw his hands up.
Jaisingh: "The streets are whispering, Bhairav. The market women quote his verses like proverbs. Even the guards snicker behind our backs. If we do nothing, we become the joke."
Devdatta, voice tight with humiliation:
Devdatta: "My own steward recited that cursed line while serving me teaâ'Where the Sardars clash, the leaf laughs.' I'll have no servant laughing at me in my own home!"
Jaisingh slammed his fist on the table.
Jaisingh: "It's not just Bhanu. Veeraj's silence emboldens him. They undermine us togetherâone with words, the other with his smug quiet."
Bhairav Rao stopped pacing, his eyes cold and hard.
Bhairav Rao: "We have tolerated Veeraj's insolence too long. If the council is to remain strong, this must end. The king is too forgivingâhe keeps that leaf as a trinket, as if wit outweighs loyalty."
Devdatta leaned forward, conspiratorial.
Devdatta: "If we can't silence Bhanu's tongue, perhaps we can turn it against him. Or against Veeraj. Find a way to twist his cleverness into a noose."
Jaisingh nodded eagerly.
Jaisingh: "Let the people see not laughter, but danger in his words. A threat to order. If Bhanu becomes the villain, Veeraj follows."
Bhairav Rao stroked his beard, a slow, calculating smile forming.
Bhairav Rao: "Good. Let Bhanu have his leaves and laughterâfor now. We'll give him enough thread to bind himself and Veeraj both. But when the time is right, we strike. And this time, there will be no clever verse to save them."
The three Sardars sat in the thickening darkness, their anger hardening into resolve. Outside, the wind rattled the mango leaves, but inside, a far more dangerous storm was gathering.
**âš Soul Verse**
Ek paan lihile.
Ek satya hastle.
 Ek sabha gungunli.
Ek itihas parat aala.
(One leaf was written. One truth laughed. One council hummed. One history returned.):