Narmada was eager to see the man of her dreams as the day of the marriage approached near. The place where Shona had arrived and camped was not very far from where she was. But the custom and the protocol explicitly forbade her to see him before the day of the marriage. She mustered courage and decided to send him a ring that was her personal belonging. It was going to be her token of love for him. She yearned to know what he looked like, how he conducted himself and so on. In her eagerness and impatience she took an impulsive decision to send her personal attendant Zola, who was also her bosom friend, on this mission to Shona, with a priceless ring from the vault of her treasure.

Zola belonged to one of the Indian village communities who were  well-known for their ability to dig out people’s intimate secrets in the course of inconsequential chatter. Zola was well-versed in this art. Having lived close to the princess, she had acquired refinement. But her greatest asset was her beauty.

When Zola reached Shona’s camp she found him standing outside the royal tent. Zola was enamoured to see him. Love got the better of her. Now she was just a woman, not the trusted messenger of the queen. The ring which was the token of the queen’s love was already sitting on her finger audaciously. The young man saw her; she blushed and began to rearrange the folds of her sari on her shoulder coyly. As she was engaged in the act, the ring on her finger caught the sunlight and reflected it back. The luminous diamond in the ring could belong to none but a queen. When Shona saw it he was certain that the woman who wore it was the princess he was betrothed to. He was overjoyed, and mistaking her to be his bride, took Zola in. Everything happened just the way Zola wished.

For many days they celebrated love and nothing  but love. Time went by. One day the truth came to light. But by then Zola had conquered the prince. He was deep in love with the woman who was Zola. Zola was the reality, Narmada was a myth. He was aware of his commitment but he lived for the moment now.

Days passed. Zola did not return. The story that the secret messenger brought back to Narmada was beyond belief. Narmada flew into a rage. She hated Shona. Joy was banished out of her life. She was now like a river out of bounds. She reached Shona’s camp with a resolve to swallow him in the deluge. Her anger mounted as the things became plain to her. With one kick she settled the score with Zola and with another, she knocked down the powerful man that Shona was. Shona apologized and even promised to get rid of Zola, but Narmada refused to relent.

She declared her resolve to Shona, “Narmada will not marry a depraved man. All men are alike. Now you will see my resolve. I shall remain virgin for life. Get lost and get this wretched woman out of my sight. “

Shona walked away taking Zola with him. Narmada who was destined to flow east where her husband’s home was, now turned her back on him and became westward bound. To this day she did not look back towards the east.

Now, looking after her subjects was the sole mission of her life. But the heart of Narmada is tied up in knots at various places in the course of her path. People say that even today when she comes across traitors, Narmada seethes with anger. There are deep, silent vortices in her backwaters which are undetected until you are close to them. They are swirling with rage and can suck unsuspecting humans into their depths. She flows with tremendous force between the precipitous rocks which flank both sides of her gushing stream. There is a rare spot where you chance to see Narmada resting quietly, exhausted and defeated. This is a place called Bhedaghat. It is a steep, precipitous, rocky region where she hurls herself down in a desperate fall. The steep rush into which the tremendous river hurls herself down on the rocks below, creates a mist. It is like a giant fountain of myriad shades of mist. And then, you watch her flowing further down after that stupendous leap, further and further over the level terrain until she reaches a zone of silence. Here her waters are silent and clear. You see her making her way, flowing on quietly between tall marble rocks guarding her on both sides. The pure white marble rocks guard the privacy of the woman who has found her solitude and after a phase of self-consuming sorrow, sleeps like an orphaned princess inside the majestic four walls of her palace. This is the most mysteriously beautiful spot in Narmada’s volatile path of fury. This is the spot where her pride broke, her tears coursed down silently and she went beyond grief and joy. This is the place called Bhedaghat where terror and rage are silenced and a strange beauty is born.