They called her the rebel queen.To the British, she was a spark of defiance.To her people, she was the very soul of resistance.To history, she remains an enigma—fierce, bold, and unyielding.
In the heat of rebellion, amidst the bloodied dust of 1857, a woman in saffron robes rode a horse like a thunderbolt across the plains of Jhansi. Her blade flashed in the sunlight, her eyes were embers of fire.This was no myth. This was Rani Lakshmibai—Jhansi ki Rani.
1858, Fortress of Kalpi
Thunder growled above the ruined bastion. Smoke spiraled from the ramparts like the breath of a dying beast. Below, the battlefield roared with gunfire and screams.
On a coal-black horse rode a woman in crimson robes, her face masked by dust and blood, her sword gleaming like a vengeful god's whisper.
British officers halted. "That's her," one murmured, voice trembling."The Rani."
Lakshmibai of Jhansi—now hunted, cornered, yet unbroken.
The blade in her hand sliced the air like lightning. Her eyes held something more terrifying than rage:
purpose.
And before the musket shots cracked through the thunderstorm, a chilling cry ripped through the burning winds:
"I will not die with my hands tied."
Chapter One: The Girl Who Dared the Gods
Varanasi, 1830 – Midnight
The Ganga churned under a blood-red moon. In the shadowed alleyways near Dashashwamedh Ghat, three thieves crept silently, blades drawn. Their target—a merchant's house rumored to hold temple gold.
But they weren't alone.
A small figure dropped from the rooftop behind them like a wraith. No words. Just the sound of a wooden sword slicing the air.
Crack. One man fell.
The others turned—and froze.
It wasn't a guard. It was a girl. Barely ten. Braided hair, eyes like molten bronze, chest rising with quiet fury.
She raised her weapon again. "Leave. Or stay and bleed."
They fled without a glance back.
From a nearby window, a man watched, stunned. Her father—Moropant Tambe—had trained her in self-defense, but what he saw tonight wasn't just instinct.
It was warrior blood.
The Forbidden Garden
By day, Manikarnika was a storm wrapped in silence. While other girls played with dolls and embroidered silks, she scaled palace walls, sparred with stable boys, read war treaties, and traced sword marks in the dirt.
By night, she visited the armory ruins near the ghats, where the ghosts of fallen Maratha soldiers were said to whisper strategies to those brave enough to listen.
She wasn't afraid. She listened.
Sometimes, she heard her own name in the wind.
The Oracle's Warning
One evening, while passing through the Vishwanath temple, an old woman with clouded eyes grabbed her wrist.
"You… child of war… you are marked."
Manikarnika stiffened.
"The crown will find you. But so will fire. You will rise through ash, and die standing."
She pulled away. But her heart beat wildly.
That night, she dreamed of blood and fire, and a shadowed rider galloping toward a fortress in flames.
She woke up breathless.
Bithoor – Exile of a Dynasty
When her father was summoned to serve the exiled Peshwa Baji Rao II in Bithoor, Manikarnika was brought into a world of broken thrones and silent rebellions.
The Peshwa called her "Chhabili," but behind that name hid a keen student of warcraft. She studied diplomacy with the ministers, trained with Maratha veterans, and learned to fight with dual swords—a forbidden skill for a Brahmin girl.
Her favorite sparring partner was Tatya Tope, the Peshwa's adopted son—a firebrand rebel-in-making.
But not all in Bithoor admired her. Whispers followed her like snakes.
"She reads like a man.""She rides alone at night.""She speaks of battle like a soldier.""She... dreams of power."
And deep in the British Residency, her name was being noted.
The Marriage That Changed Everything
At fourteen, Manikarnika was married to Gangadhar Rao, the King of Jhansi.
It wasn't a wedding. It was a shift in destiny.
From the minute she stepped into the palace, daggers of silence pierced her from all corners. The king's courtiers watched her like she was a foreign beast. Her sword was locked away. Her horse was sold. Her voice muted behind heavy veils.
But she smiled.
And waited.
Within months, strange things began happening in Jhansi.
– A corrupt minister was mysteriously poisoned.– Guards who mocked the Rani disappeared in the forest.– A secret women's militia was being trained in the palace gardens at midnight.
And Lakshmibai—now queen—no longer needed permission to carry her sword.
Then the child died.
Her only son—her last hope of peace—died in his crib under suspicious circumstances.
Whispers of poisoning flooded the palace. Her husband collapsed within the year.
And with cold eyes, the British sent a letter.
Subject: Doctrine of Lapse"Since your Majesty has no biological heir, the Kingdom of Jhansi shall be annexed to the East India Company."
She read it aloud in the throne room. Tore it in half. And set it aflame.
"I am still alive," she said quietly. "And so is Jhansi."
Thunder Before the Storm
Late that night, she stood on the highest balcony, overlooking the silent fort.
A rider approached from the horizon. A message. Another threat from Lord Dalhousie.
Lakshmibai turned to her general.
"Ready the armory. Train every girl who can stand. Send word to Tatya Tope. Tell him… the lioness is awake."
As lightning split the skies, her hand closed around the sword hanging beside her throne.
The war hadn't begun yet.
But she had.
To Be Continued in Chapter Two