Jhansi Fort – Midnight, 1854
The sky growled like a wounded beast as rain slammed into the ramparts of Jhansi Fort. A single torch flickered against the storm, held by a guard whose hands shook not from cold—but from fear.
Rani Lakshmibai stood unmoved in the center of the courtyard, soaked to the bone, her face unreadable.
The parchment in her fist was crumpled and wet, yet its message burned louder than the thunder overhead.
"You have no legitimate heir. Jhansi shall be absorbed by the East India Company."— Governor-General Lord Dalhousie
They were trying to erase her. Not just her reign. Her name. Her son. Her sovereignty.
A low, guttural voice broke the silence behind her.
"They're surrounding us… slowly. Like wolves."
It was Ghaus Khan, her trusted artillery commander. His scarred face was lit by lightning. "They're bribing the courtiers. Your own council—half of them are spies."
Lakshmibai didn't blink. "Let them come. Let them crawl through the gutters of betrayal. When they rise for my throne, they will drown in their own filth."
She turned, the storm behind her now an extension of her fury. "Begin the drills. Secretly. I want every woman who has ever lost a child or husband to British rifles… trained to kill."
Underground Chambers – A Fort Within a Fort
Beneath the palace, through tunnels long sealed since Maratha times, the queen had built her own silent army.
Here, whispers were louder than swords.
Women from all castes were gathered—widows, dancers, potters, farmers. Some barely fourteen, others with gray in their hair. All had one thing in common: nothing left to lose.
Tatya Tope stood at the center of the stone chamber, reading from a scroll of coded names. His eyes met the queen's.
"You are turning the women of Jhansi into blades," he said.
"No," Lakshmibai replied. "I am sharpening what the world chose to discard."
British Residency – Jhansi Cantonment
Major Ellis sat alone in his study, staring at a chessboard. Rain tapped against his windows like impatient fingers.
"She knows," a voice said behind him.
It was Lieutenant Hargrave, pale and nervous. "Our informant says she's building forces. Quietly. Even the temple priests are… watching for her signal."
Ellis didn't look up. He moved a black knight across the board.
"Let her build. When the time comes, we'll pull the ground from under her feet."
"But the locals—"
"Will cower like they always do when they see red coats and cannons," Ellis said coldly. "Jhansi is already ours. She just doesn't know it yet."
He lifted a pawn, set it down with a soft click.
"Check."
The Poisoned Scroll
Days later, in the royal court, Lakshmibai was handed a scroll sealed in red wax. A message from Gwalior's king, requesting an alliance.
She broke the seal.
A sharp sting. Then the scroll fell. Her fingertips were bleeding.
Poisoned.
The court froze as the Rani's lips turned pale. She staggered, grabbed the armrest of her throne… but did not fall.
Instead, she gritted her teeth, tore the edge of her saree, and sucked the blood from the wound—spitting it on the floor.
"Cowards don't deserve ink. They write in venom."
Her voice, though faint, carried across the chamber.
"Seal the gates. No one enters, no one leaves. Not even wind."
Her general, Raghunath Rao, knelt beside her. "They will come in the night. With knives in the dark."
She smiled.
"Then I shall be the storm that greets them."
Nightfall Intrusion
That night, cloaked shadows scaled the eastern walls of the fort. Six men. Trained assassins. Silent as breath.
They crept through corridors toward the royal chamber. Every step rehearsed. Every turn memorized.
Until the last one.
The last turn led into a trap.
Dozens of arrows rained down from above. Oil lanterns shattered at their feet, setting the floor ablaze. Screams echoed as swords sliced through the smoke.
From the smoke emerged Lakshmibai—barefoot, armored, her hair untied, eyes cold as a winter moon.
"You entered my palace thinking I was asleep?" she hissed.
One assassin lunged.
He never reached her.
Her blade split the air in a blur—piercing his heart before he even gasped.
She looked at the remaining intruders, now trembling, cornered by palace guards.
"I will send your ashes back to your queen," she whispered.
And she did.
Flashback – The Promise
(Intercut cinematic sequence)
A young Manikarnika kneels beside her mother's deathbed.
"You must never kneel again," Bhagirathi says, coughing. "Your spine must never bend, even in love. Even in loss."
"I'm scared, Maa."
"You are the storm. Fear should fear you."
Manikarnika nods, lips trembling. "I promise."
Jhansi Market – The Signal Fire
Within a week, Jhansi changed.
The markets grew quieter. The watchmen were replaced. Every house had an extra lantern, hung near the door at night.
A signal system—coded, invisible to British eyes.
Inside temples, war drums were tested under the guise of prayer songs. Underground tunnels were cleared. Supplies hidden inside granaries.
On the palace roof, a massive iron plate was raised every dawn. Not decoration.
A signal flare.
If the British attacked, it would reflect the sun in patterns known only to her allies.
The fort had become a heartbeat. Silent. But alive.
Waiting.
Then came the betrayal.
Raghunath Rao—her cousin, her blood—met with Major Ellis under cover of darkness. A silent handshake. A sealed bag of gold.
In exchange, a map. The underground tunnels. The guard shifts. The queen's private chamber.
"She'll be unarmed during the eclipse festival," he whispered.
Ellis smiled.
"It will be… poetic."
The Day of the Eclipse
As the moon veiled the sun in a ghostly halo, the people of Jhansi gathered in temples. Bells tolled, and chants rose.
And beneath it all—war crept in.
British soldiers in disguise entered the city, dressed as pilgrims. Raghunath Rao had ensured the gates were barely guarded.
Lakshmibai was alone, praying in the sanctum, wearing no armor, her sword left in the antechamber.
At least, that's what they thought.
The lead attacker moved in—his dagger drawn.
She heard the step behind her. Did not turn.
Instead, she whispered, "Did my cousin sell me for gold or silver?"
The man froze.
She turned slowly. In her hand—a hidden dagger soaked in sandalwood oil.
"You smell like English whiskey," she said.
In one move, she struck. Fast. Precise. Right in the throat.
Two more came. She hurled her diya—flames erupted. The temple guards, once disguised as priests, drew swords from beneath their robes.
Screams tore through the temple.
Back in the Palace
Tatya Tope arrived just before sunset.
"What happened?" he asked, panting.
Lakshmibai stood over the captured soldiers—bloodied and bruised.
"Tell Lord Dalhousie," she said, stepping over the bodies, "if he wants Jhansi… he will have to walk through fire."
Tatya stared at her. "We're not ready for open war."
She looked to the horizon where the sun set behind the blood-soaked fort walls.
"I was born in chains," she whispered. "I will not die in them."
As darkness settled, the iron signal plate on the palace roof tilted slightly—sending a blinding reflection toward the distant hills.
The silent armies across India saw it.
The flame of resistance had been lit.
End of Chapter Two........