The Princess of Ranikot

 

                                            Fiction

It was a cold moonlit night at Ranikot Fort. Unable to sleep, I stepped outside the residential quarters and settled onto a chair beside the dying embers of a bonfire. The time was past two. Occasional gusts of wind sliced through my sweater and shawl, sending shivers down my spine.

A sudden rustling sound startled me. I forgot the cold and turned toward the noise, which seemed to come from the hallway nearby. Gathering my courage, I decided to investigate.

While my friends, visiting the fort with me, slept soundly, I kept my eyes fixed on the shadows of the silent night. The rustling noise reminded me of something dragging across the ground. I took a burning log from the fire and tiptoed toward the corridor. But before I reached it, a strong gust of wind extinguished the makeshift torch. A chill of fear crept into my bones, but I told myself, “Don’t panic. It’s nothing.”

Still, shadows loomed. I pressed on cautiously.

As I rounded the corner of a stone corridor, I saw a silhouette by the wall. It was clearly outlined in the moonlight. Though I never believed in ghosts, the eerie sight made me gasp. The figure faced away from me and began to move forward.

“Stop—wait!” I called out.

The figure continued silently. Draped in a long, gown-like cloak, its garment fluttered as it walked.

“Who are you? Please, wait!” I called again, louder now, my fear slightly abating.

This time, the figure halted—but didn’t turn.

I moved to face it. The head was still covered, the face hidden beneath the fabric. But the gleam of gold and silver jewelry around the neck told me it was not a man—it was a woman.

A thousand questions buzzed in my head.

“Who could she be? A ghost? A fairy? A lost tourist?”

Shaking off the thoughts, I spoke. “Please don’t play games. I’ve visited this fort before, but never stayed overnight. I admit I’m a little spooked. Don’t try to frighten me.”

Without responding, she led me into one of the rooms, where a large wooden swing hung from the ceiling. She sat down on it and gestured for me to sit beside her. Hesitantly, I did, though my face still bore a look of disbelief.

“I am Romasa, Princess of Sindh,” she said in a voice sweeter than silk, as if spun from moonlight itself.

My heart skipped a beat.

“When the Sassanids attacked, I was in Seestan (present-day Sehwan) with my maidens. Our army was crushed. We fled to this fortress—it was the safest place left. But the Sassanid soldiers followed us here. Our brave warriors fought valiantly but were slain. To preserve my honor, I threw myself into the well within the fort.”

She fell silent.

Despite the cold night, sweat dampened my clothes. My breath caught.

“Why are you afraid?” she asked gently. “Do I frighten you?”

For the first time, I saw her face in the soft glow of moonlight. Just as her name meant ‘like the moon’, her face glowed like it too. She was the very image of beauty—Romasa, a masterpiece of Saraswati.

“I have wandered for centuries, searching for you on every full moon night,” she said, her voice tremulous with longing. “You were my betrothed. You were martyred during the invasion. Lifetime after lifetime, you have been reborn, but I have remained bound within these walls.”

Her eyes glistened.

“That cannot be,” I stammered. “I am not your betrothed. You must be mistaken.”

“You don’t believe me, I understand. After all, these were events from long, long ago.”

She clapped once.

Suddenly, the room transformed into a grand palace hall. Two enormous portrait scrolls hung like tapestries—one of her, and the other… of me. I was seated beside her as a royal decree was being announced: the engagement of Princess Romasa. The air was filled with music and celebration. Before I could take it all in, the vision faded.

“Do you believe me now?” she asked softly. “It is true. We were one. But fate tore us apart. I remain incomplete—my soul still trapped here. Please, free me from this cycle.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she took my hands in hers.

My fear vanished, replaced by a strange compassion. I asked, “How can I help you attain liberation?”

“You already have,” she whispered. “Now that I’ve found you, I need nothing else.”

“But those were other lives,” I said gently. “Since then, I’ve lived many lives. I’m married now.”

I pulled out my wallet and showed her a photo of my family.

She stared at it, her face turning somber. Gently wiping away her tears, she said, “I don’t want to disturb your life. I’m tired. You must live this life with them. But in our next life, you will be mine—only mine.”

Romasa rose from the swing. I clasped her hands and said, “Very well, Romasa. In the next life, we shall be together. Our incomplete story will find its end.”

Just then, a flutter of wings startled me. A pigeon had taken flight from the swing.

Romasa was gone.

Only the swing swayed gently, and the blue morning sky peered in through the window. A sparrow, once perched there, flew off into the dawn.

 Note: Ranikot (Kot means Fort), known as the "Great Wall of Sindh," is a massive 32-35 km fortified wall in the Khirthar mountains near Sann, Jamshoro District, Sindh, Pakistan.

It connects barren mountain ridges with bastions, forming a vast defensive perimeter often compared to the Great Wall of China.

Mainstream history credits the Talpur Dynasty (around 1812), but many archaeologists believe its origins are far older, possibly from Scythian, Parthian, or Sassanian times (2nd century BC to 7th century AD).