The Prince and the Courtesan.

My sister visited the Golconda Fort's sound and light show yesterday. When she returned, she told me of a love story of the Qutb Shahi dynasty. The prince, Mohammad Qutb Quli Shah, fell in love with a courtesan named Bhagmati. Such stories generally end with the poor girl being killed or exiled somewhere. And the boy will be heartbroken. Surprisingly, this isn't the course the love story takes.

Obviously, the father was disapproving of the match initially. He'd want his son to marry royalty, not an ordinary girl that performed in his court. Mughal-e-Azam comes to mind.

But love overcame all odds and the star crossed lovers were united. Quite refreshing, isn't it? To hear a story like that? Where there is actually a happily ever after? You'd think such stories can be created only on the silver screen, but here we have this spectacle of undying love, that fought bravely and actually won the war. My family finds my obsession with love and love stories exasperatingly amusing. But never having been in love myself, I seem to have fallen in love with love. So, my fondness for Nicholas Sparks, Susan Elizabeth Phillips and other chick lits and chick flicks has become somehow ingrained in me. I enjoy looking at things with a romantic outlook. It makes it all the more beautiful. In the walls of palaces there are stories left untold. Stories of love, stories of feuds, stories of deceit. At least, I like to think so. Ah. If only I approached my math textbook with the same interest. I'd be brilliant.