A strange silence reigned inside Junagarh Palace today. There was no sound except for the whistling of the wind. No one was speaking to anyone. After the horrific fight between Prafulla and Snigdha, they had stopped seeing each other's faces. Prafulla sat like a stone statue on his balcony, while Snigdha kept herself locked in her room. Prabhasha lay tossing and turning on her bed, unconscious with fever. Occasionally, the sound of her sobbing in delirium drifted through the halls, but there was no peace in the palace to soothe that crying.
As afternoon turned to evening, a group of villagers arrived at the palace gate, wailing in distress. Their news—the mysterious 'rotting tiger' had appeared again in three houses. The villagers were distraught with the stench and terror. They had come to the Prince seeking justice and security.
Prafulla emerged, but his face looked unusually tired and shattered. He looked at the villagers and said in a broken voice, "I know your situation is dire. But right now, my mental state is extremely poor. In my home, my beloved sister is battling the King of Death, and my other sister is blinded by stubbornness and ego. In this state, if I go into the forest in search of that mysterious tiger, it will surely devour me. I cannot steady my mind."
The villagers bowed their heads, seeing the Prince's pathetic condition. Prafulla ordered, "Have patience. I am taking two days. After these two days, I will personally go out to uncover this mystery. Until then, I am arranging to send a large torch and a sturdy lock and key to every household for security. Stay alert at night by lighting the torches." Security equipment was distributed from the royal treasury by Prafulla's order, but it didn't ease the turmoil in his heart even a little.
Meanwhile, a pigeon landed near Snigdha's window—a secret note from Rupanjan. On any other day, Snigdha's heart would have danced with joy at the sight of this note, but today her chest felt like stone. Rupanjan had called her to meet by the edge of the forest this afternoon. Holding the note, Snigdha looked toward Prabhasha's room. Prabhasha's moans of pain were drifting from there.
Suddenly, Snigdha's frozen heart felt a sharp twist. Prafulla's sharp words began to pierce her like arrows—"Father's blood flows in her body too... are you even human, Snigdha?" With trembling hands, Snigdha picked up a pen. She wrote back to Rupanjan: 'I cannot go today, Rup. My little sister is very ill, she has a severe fever. I have no cruelty left in me to leave her in this state. Forgive me.'
After sending the note, Snigdha slumped onto her bed. Tears began to flow incessantly from her eyes. She thought, "How hideous have I truly become, blinded by love! The girl who is crazy about calling me 'Didi,' whom I used to feed with my own hands—I kicked her calling her a rival's daughter? She hasn't even had a drop of water (jol) all day!"
The poison of guilt began to eat away at Snigdha. She moved toward the door, but her ego and shame kept her from taking a step. She wondered how she would face Prafulla and Prabhasha. Burning in the fire of an unearthly silence and remorse, that afternoon in Junagarh Palace turned into a long sigh. In this conflict between the pull of blood and the pull of love, for the first time, the pull of blood began to triumph in Snigdha's heart. After sending the note to Rupanjan, Snigdha felt a weight like the Himalayas lift from her chest. But immediately after, a sharp burning began. She could no longer stay still. Prabhasha's screams and Prafulla's cruel truths rang in her ears like arrows. She thought, "What kind of Princess am I? What kind of elder sister? I kicked away the sister who is dying of fever? How disgusting am I!"
Snigdha rushed out of her room and ran toward Prabhasha's room. At the door, she paused for a moment. It was dark inside, lit only by a flickering lamp. Prabhasha lay curled up on the bed like a small ball. Her face had turned pale from pain and fever. Snigdha could no longer contain herself. She burst into the room like a storm and sat by Prabhasha's head.
"Prabha! Oh, my precious sister!" Saying this, Snigdha pulled Prabhasha into a tight embrace. As Snigdha's cool hands touched Prabhasha's burning body, she startled and opened her eyes. Weeping loudly, Snigdha said, "Forgive me, sister! I had become blind, I had become a witch! How much I have hurt you, Prabha! Hit me, scold me as much as you want, but don't turn your face away like that."
In her feverish state, Prabhasha couldn't believe at first that her Didi was holding her and crying. Snigdha began to kiss Prabhasha's face and forehead. She soaked her veil and, with extreme tenderness, began to wipe Prabhasha's body. Then, bringing water (jol) in a golden pot, she very carefully helped her drink while holding her head. Prabhasha drank the water like a thirsty skylark. At the touch of her sister's hand, half her fever seemed to vanish instantly.
Prabhasha said in a choked voice, "Didi... you've come? I thought you would probably never love me again. Did you disown me as Mother Sushila's daughter, Didi?"
Snigdha cupped Prabhasha's face in her palms and sobbed, "No, sister! You are Mother Arohi's daughter, you are Prafulla's sister, you are my life's soul! Who is Sushila? What does her blood matter? Our father's blood flows in your veins too. I said those things in the heat of the moment, sister. Get well soon, I will never leave you alone again."
Snigdha personally brought hot soup and sliced fruits for Prabhasha. She fed every morsel to Prabhasha with her own hands. There were tears of joy in Prabhasha's eyes. The girl who was about to die from the hurt of rejection felt half her illness vanish as if by magic upon receiving this unexpected love from her sister. That familiar sweet smile bloomed on her face again. She closed her eyes in utter peace, resting her head on her sister's lap.
Just then, Prafulla was watching everything from behind the door. There were tears in his eyes too. He never imagined Snigdha would realize her mistake so soon. Prafulla stepped slowly into the room. Seeing him, Snigdha bowed her head and said, "Brother, forgive me. I had truly fallen very low. But no more; from today, I will keep Prabha as the apple of my eye."
Prafulla smiled faintly and placed his hands on both sisters' heads. He said, "Finally, the goddess of fortune has returned to the palace. Seeing the two of you smiling like this takes away all my fatigue. Tonight, I can sleep in peace."
The dark room of Junagarh Palace was decorated today like an untimely Diwali. The bitterness and poison that sought to consume the palace were defeated today by the pull of blood. Prabhasha felt today that her Didi was not lost; her Didi had returned to her. That night, the royal family was wrapped in a blanket of exquisite peace and love.