A gracious wife who radiated elegance and a debonair smile capable of illuminating any room were believed to hallmark Ahti Meenakshi as a refined gentleman by all who moved in his social circles. Yet, behind the closed doors of his personal life, he was found to be no more than a low-born rogue who had succeeded in gaining a measure of respectability, thanks to the unwitting help of an innocent woman's steadfast support. Not any woman, but Gadise Njeri—who was not only dignified but actually innocent and unbelievably gentle in her manner. Her fate had once shone bright with the promise of shining gold until she encountered him; she was a woman of noble birth, born of royal blood, and a distant relation of the king himself.
She had a firm conviction that she had married for love and out of real affection. To Ahti, however, she was only a stepping stone to achieve his ends, a means to an end. He exploited her, lied to her time and again, and continued to be intimate with another woman even while she was trying to make a home and a life with him. The warm-hearted and trusting Gadise had no clue about the bitter reality that her husband was not only having an affair, but was also the father of another woman's child outside their wedlock.
Gadise had started to harbor hope that, for once, life was at last changing for the better with the news that she was pregnant with a baby. However, on the day that was to see the birth of her highly anticipated offspring, the anguish was so immense that it sent her unconscious at one point. When it came to, she was met with a heart-wrenching and sorrowful reality: her baby had died before birth. The one they had so dreamed about was born stillborn. In a heart-wrenching twist of fate, a funeral service had already been planned ahead of time. Typical of his nature, and true to his character, her husband Ahti, who frequently boasted of being "compassionate," said they should go ahead and adopt a child as a replacement. Thinking back on their life together, it was certain that their union existed for five years, but the tragic events that they had lived through necessarily brought them to this heart-wrenching realization.
Consumed by a powerful and overwhelming feeling of despair and great sadness, Gadise was totally and utterly on the side of the torrent of emotions of sorrow that washed over her. A sweet-looking little girl entered the house, who had bright, wondering eyes brimming with curiosity and a timid, reserved nature that hinted at innocence—she was only a mere four years old. In a swift, impulsive outburst of love, Gadise hugged the child impulsively, totally not realizing that by doing so, she was unknowingly holding the offspring of her husband's betrayal and infidelity. This sweet and promising little child was Ahti's daughter, who was the unintentional offspring of his secret love for Shachi Bahati that went on for years.
However, may we pause and talk about her own child, the one with Gadise?
She had the essential capacity to breathe.
Ahti, in a shocking show of contempt for her heritage, had taken her—despite her noble blood and royal lineage—and summarily dumped her into an orphanage, treating her as if she were worthless trash. But the fancies of fate, as devious and as fickle as they may be, could not so easily be brushed aside or ignored. A year following this bleak occurrence, rumors and murmurs started spreading across the general vicinity—stories of a young child living at the orphanage who possessed an unnerving likeness to the illustrious Lady Gadise Njeri. At that instant, Ahti experienced a chilling rush of fear wash over him, and his blood froze as abject terror took hold of him.
His main priority was based on totally eradicating the problem once and forever.
Screw her up, he ordered. Make her to different. Cleaned out stains.
Despite this, destiny's hand had already started its subtle work behind the scenes. In the great palace, a horrific tragedy had befallen—the King and Queen were beset by sorrow after the devastating loss of their only child, who had lived but for a single year. The group members could not hold back their sorrow as they shrieked in agony. Above, the heavens grew darker and more foreboding, reflecting the despair below. A whispered chorus of omens was heard in the wind, predicting doom to come. How could the king, who had not been able to keep his beloved child safe, possibly keep an entire kingdom safe from evil?
Due to the situation and the considerations, a hidden decision was finally made.
There was also to be a major adoption of a child who would become the substitute for the princess who had been brutally murdered. This was not to be any child that would be selected.
The young woman who had been taken in was none other than Thumbelina Kumbukani.
Unknown to Ahti, the little girl he had so heartlessly abandoned was indeed the very child he thought he had abandoned, the beloved daughter of Lady Gadise and a rightful heir to the illustrious heritage of the Meenakshi and the noble royal bloodline. She was not just any child; she was the beloved daughter of King Mavuto Elanor and Queen Efemena Elanor, yet, in spite of her royal lineage, she did not bear the noble name that usually comes with such a high-born heritage. In every sense that truly mattered, she was a princess only in name alone. She was an assist, a tactical pawn in the complex game of politics, an elusive specter elegantly draped in silk material, making her presence known without really being noticed.
Six years gone by.
Next in line was Shyama Elanor, a person of importance who was the descendant of the favorite concubine of the great king Psyche Elanor. When she arrived at the palace, an eerie chill swept over the previously warm and lively atmosphere. What had once been a beacon of royal hope, Thumbelina, now lay as nothing more than a mere shadow of a desperate and lonely time? The servants, not being able to hide their contempt, jeered openly. The courtiers whispered amongst themselves, quietly mocking her presence and her station. Again and again, Shyama would reaffirm with determination: she was not a princess, but only a bastard child born of the dirt and trash of society.
Thumbelina was simply superb in every way, however. She conducted herself with a regal bearing and a poised attitude at all times. The palace, in trying to ignore her outstanding attributes, however, could not help but be unable to deny that the people simply loved her. Every single word she spoke was imbued with deep wisdom; every move she made forced an overwhelming feeling of grace. In very sharp contrast, Shyama, the blood queen, also fell far short of Thumbelina's shining attributes.
The public started questioning and asking why Thumbelina was not being accepted as the rightful and legitimate heir.
And this would truly be the last, irrevocable death sentence that was passed on to her.
Shyama, taking full advantage of and utilizing to her best the lively and festive jubilant celebrations that marked the important third day of the Nerjjeb festival, planned to execute her strategic maneuver. The hired workers, with utmost care and concentration, carefully enacted a ghastly scene that unfolded in dramatic fashion right before those very people whose lives she had touched so deeply, rendering them emotionally shattered and completely devastated; it was in this very tense and heart-wrenching atmosphere that Thumbelina drew her last breath.
The whole nation wept collectively for the girl who never quite managed to fit in and belong anywhere.
Her mother, named Gadise Njeri, had made a shocking discovery a whole decade ago, a discovery that was concealed from the eyes of all those around. This revelation had brought to light a carefully woven web of deceit, along with the many lies that came with it. The kidnapping of a little girl had occurred, leaving lives shattered in its trail. With a desperation so overwhelming that she be reunited with her beloved daughter, Gadise confronted Ahti courageously, but he had silenced her quite effectively. Standing confidently alongside him now was Shachi Bahati, who was proudly bearing the title of Gadise along with Ahti's last name. In this way, Ahti Meenakshi cleverly concealed his transgressions, veiling them behind a facade of opulence trimmed with silk and gold.
Gadise's final words uttered at the end.
"If I am reborn again in this world, I request you to help me in a way that I am able to keep my daughter beside me again. I will hold her closely in those affectionate arms of mine. My duty is to safeguard her and to keep her away from any danger. Even if the price of that guardianship is that I have to burn the whole world, give me the power to protect her with all my might."
And what about destiny, too?
Fate was all ears.
Stories like these are never really finished in silence, for they have a way of going on and existing beyond the moment. They reach a conclusion with a sense of reckoning.