The little girl lived in the royal palace,
Playful, unnoticed, unseen.
She was a daughter of the king,
But her mother was not the queen.

Her playmates were princesses, 
Young girls of her own age,
The palace was her only home,
The courtyards her childhood’s stage.

Once upon a time, as enchantress of the ragas,
Her mother was the nightangle of the royal court.
But now fallen from grace with her lost sagas,
A favorites position she could no more afford.

In the mother’s khol black eyes,
The king had once found his peace,
Their love was her mother’s forbidden sin,
For which she wouldn’t be given a lease. 

In oblivion the little girl was growing,
Like a flower in a trusted shade,
But the thorns around her were waiting,
To tear her from her restful glade.

Long banished from the court,
Her mother now lived like a shadow,
Hiding her life behind the heavy veil

An unwed bride but now living like a widow

The king was ailing and had grown fragile,
Ministers and queens were fuming with wicked guile.
To banish the little girl, or make her a slave
The palace was filled with such whispered waves.

The mother loved the daughter,
Beyond any measure.
To the King she send her last plea,
To save her little treasure.

The girl was summoned into
The king’s private chamber,
There she stood shivering,
Her face a flushed amber.

The king placed his tender hand
Upon her small head,
A sparkle drop of tear,
Her fearful eyes had shed.

The king took a pearl string
And placed it on her palm,
His soft gentle touch
Seemed like a father’s loving balm.

“Keep this royal jewel , it is a parting gift”,
Said The King, in a quivering voice,
She stood holding the string of pearls
Not daring to make a sobbing noise.

The mother and the little girl,
Left the palace in the darkness of the night,
All the glorious years of love and leisure,
Had turned to a shameful fright.

They walked out together, 
The mother clutching onto her little girl,
A home forever lost,
But on her tiny neck,
Hanged the royal pearl.