A wedding journey of a revolutionary man

Everyone, knowingly or unknowingly, makes mistakes in life. When they realize them, they regret it.

Story Analysis

During the British era, a young man named Raghavulu served as a lineman in the electricity department run by the colonial administration a role that offered stability, though not luxury.

Raghavulu at a young age, he was raised by his uncle, Chandrayya, who cared for him like his own son.

One day, Raghavulu his way to work, he saw a man named Kondayya harassing a woman.

Raghavulu rushes toward them, pulls Kondayya away, and punches him and saved the woman.

From that day, Kondayya held a grudge against Raghavulu and he says “You’ll regret this, Raghavulu… one day.”

Chandrayya had only one daughter named Lakshmi. She was in love with her cousin Raghavulu. Knowing this, Chandrayya arranged their marriage. 

Since Chandrayya had no sons, he gave his house and land to Raghavulu. The small family lived happily, without hardships.

After a few days, Lakshmi became pregnant, bringing even more joy in their life's. Chandrayya and Raghavulu arranged a grand baby shower ceremony for her.

One day, Raghavulu left for work as usual, and Chandrayya went to a nearby village. Kondayya, who is waiting for an opportunity to take revenge, sent one of his men to Raghavulu's house, pretending that Raghavulu had met with an accident. 

Lakshmi had been taken to Kondayya’s place. His heart was filled with hatred, and he intended to kill her as an act of revenge against Raghavulu. 

But Lakshmi, even in her pregnant state, showed immense courage. She fought off the men holding her and somehow managed to escape.

At that moment, Chandrayya was returning from a nearby village. He saw Lakshmi running, a group of men chasing after her. Realizing the danger, he immediately stepped in and fought the attackers to save her.

Chandrayya saved his daughter and they made their way back home, hoping the danger had passed. But, Kondayya suddenly emerged from the shadows and attacked them from behind. Chandrayya was knocked unconscious, and Kondayya, in a fit of rage, drove a knife into Lakshmi’s stomach.

Lakshmi’s screams echoed through the nearby forest, reaching the ears of tribal villagers. They rushed to the scene, found both Lakshmi and Chandrayya gravely injured, and carried them back to their place.

Lakshmi gave birth to a baby girl. But her strength had faded. Shortly after bringing her child into the world, Lakshmi took her last breath.

When Chandrayya regained consciousness and realized his daughter had died, he became emotional and cried. With the help of the tribals, he returned home with the newborn baby and Lakshmi’s body.

Unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded, Raghavulu returned home from work, expecting a normal evening. But as he stepped inside, his world shattered. There, before him, lay the lifeless body of his beloved wife, Lakshmi.

Stunned and shaken, Raghavulu’s voice trembled as he turned to Chandrayya to know what happened.

With a heavy heart, Chandrayya told him everything about Lakshmi’s abduction, the chase, the attack, and her final moments.

Raghavulu, grabbed a knife and rushed toward the door, ready to take Kondayya’s life. But Chandrayya stepped in his way, stopping him.

“This is our fate, Raghavulu,” he said quietly. “If anything happens to you, what will become of this child? She’ll be left alone… an orphan. And I… I don’t know how much time I have left.”

With that, Chandrayya gently placed the newborn baby into Raghavulu’s arms.

Lakshmi was given a proper farewell, her final rites performed with deep sorrow and love. Raghavulu named the baby girl Vishalakshi - a name symbolizing strength, and grace.

Time moved on, and eventually, Chandrayya too passed away, leaving behind only memories of his quiet strength and sacrifice.

Vishalakshi, Just as her name she had a broad, understanding mind and an unbreakable spirit. Calm and composed by nature, she carried herself with grace. But if someone did wrong especially to the innocent she transformed into goddess Bhadrakali.

One day, at the village pond, a boy said something cruel that made her friend cry. Without hesitation, Vishalakshi stepped in and beat him up.

Raghavulu, watching from a distance, was struck with a mix of  concern. As he looked at his daughter strong, bold, and unafraid he worries about what her future would be like.

One night, as the villagers were asleep, the sounds of gunfire was heard through the village. Awakened, villagers saw British soldiers chasing some men, who hide in various homes.

One of them stumbled into Raghavulu’s home, his body bruised and bleeding. Vishalakshi, hearing the noise, quickly came out of her room. Her eyes met his, he was injured, and exhausted.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she stepped forward. Calmly, she guided him to a hidden corner inside the house and shielded him from danger.

In the morning Raghavulu discovered the young man resting in the shadows of their home. He looked at him with concern and asked gently, “Who are you, son? And what are those wounds on your body?”

The young man looked up at Raghavulu, his voice steady despite the pain in his body.

“My name is Vikram,” he said, “from the nearby village of Velikonda. I’m part of a revolutionary group fighting against British rule.”

“We got word that the Britishers were transporting weapons by train. Our plan was to intercept it, stop them before those arms reached their hands. But… one of our own betrayed us.”

“The Britishers were waiting. They surrounded us before we could act. In the chaos, we scattered to survive. I ran through the forests, the fields… and somehow ended up here. Your daughter saved me. Without her, I wouldn't have made it through the night.”

Raghavulu treated Vikram’s wounds and let him stay for few days.

Over the next few days, Raghavulu notice a change in Vishalakshi. Usually quiet and reserved, she now showed a gentle attentiveness toward Vikram checking on his wounds, speaking softly with him, even smiling in a way he hadn’t seen before.

His fatherly instincts stirred with curiosity. One evening, as they sat alone outside the house, he turned to her and asked gently,

“Vishalakshi… why are you taking such a special interest in this young man?”

Vishalakshi looked at her father and said “Father, I’ve been meaning to tell you… I like Vikram. Not just because of what happened the other night.”

"Three months ago, a man tried to harras and said something cruel on my friend. I stopped him, but he didn’t let it go. He came after me later… and it was Vikram who saved me that day. I never forgot it. Since then, I’ve felt something for him.”

"That’s why I couldn’t turn him away when he came to our house. I didn’t just protect a revolutionary I protected someone I care about.”

Raghavulu listened quietly to his daughter’s words. He looked toward the house, where Vikram rested, and then back at her. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice firm but not unkind.

“Vikram seems like a good man,” he said. “Brave. Honest. But I don’t approve of the path he’s chosen. I’ve already lost too much, Vishalakshi. I won’t stand by and see your life thrown into danger. I can’t marry you to a revolutionary.”

Vikram had been standing nearby and heard every word. He stepped forward, his expression respectful but resolute.

He said, “I liked your daughter the moment I first saw her. After I saved her, I came back looking for her but she was gone. I never forgot her. And now, fate has brought me here to your home, to her.”

“Maybe all this is more than coincidence. Maybe it’s a sign. But let me be clear I will never give up the fight for freedom. Not for marriage, not for anything. The country needs people willing to sacrifice everything… and I’ve made my choice.”

He looked at Raghavulu, his eyes steady. “But I will never disrespect your decision. I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

Raghavulu remained silent for a while, reflecting on Vikram’s words. Despite his initial resistance, he couldn’t deny the young man’s courage or the sincerity in his voice. There was something about Vikram’s conviction that stirred respect in him.

Finally, he looked at Vikram and asked, “Tell me, son… what about your parents?”

Vikram’s expression softened. “My mother passed away a few years ago due to health issues,” he said quietly. “Since then, it’s just been me and my father. He’s disabled and can’t walk, so I take care of him when I’m not away fighting.”

Raghavulu nodded slowly, moved by Vikram’s sense of responsibility both to his family and his country. He stood up and placed a hand on Vikram’s shoulder.

“Alright,” he said. “If you truly mean what you say, I’ll come with you. Let me speak to your father first. Then we’ll see about this marriage.”

A faint smile touched Vikram’s lips. Vishalakshi, standing nearby, looked at her father with gratitude in her eyes.

Raghavulu and Vishalakshi accompanied Vikram to his home in Velikonda. The house was simple, worn by time, but filled with warmth and quiet dignity. As they stepped inside, Vikram respectfully led them to the main room, where a framed photograph of his father rested on a wooden shelf.

Raghavulu’s eyes fell on the photo and suddenly, everything around him faded. His breath caught. That face… that man…

He stepped closer, disbelief turning to cold certainty. His hands trembled slightly as he turned to Vishalakshi, his voice strained with shock and pain.

“I can’t allow this marriage, Vishalakshi,” he said, eyes still fixed on the photo. “This man Vikram’s father he's the one who killed your mother.”

Vishalakshi  froze, stunned by her father's words. Vikram turned sharply, confused and alarmed.

“What are you saying?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

But Raghavulu didn’t reply right away. The past had returned like a storm, and the truth, long buried, was about to change everything.

Vishalakshi  to his father “What do you mean, Father? How could Vikram’s father have killed my mother?”

Raghavulu took a deep breath, his eyes heavy with pain, and began to reveal the truth the abduction, Lakshmi’s desperate escape, how she was hunted down… and how she died giving birth after being stabbed.

Just as the weight of the story settled in the room, a sound came from behind a curtain. Slowly, an old man wheeled himself out his body thin, worn, and broken. To their shock, it was Kondayya, now confined to a chair, his legs missing.

Raghavulu’s eyes narrowed in disbelief and anger.

“You… What happened to you?” he asked, unable to hide the emotion in his voice.

Kondayya looked up at him with a mixture of shame and regret. His voice was weak but sincere.

Kondayya said “After I stabbed Lakshmi, tried to escape through the forest… but I slipped and fell into a deep ravine. Before I could climb out, a lion attacked me. I barely survived. I lost both my legs that day.”

“I didn’t understand back then… that a pregnant woman is as sacred as a goddess. What I did was unforgivable. And nature itself punished me for my sin.”

Raghavulu looked steadily at Kondayya and spoke with quiet wisdom,

“There is no greater thing than regret. To realize your mistake and truly feel the pain it caused that is the truest form of redemption.”

The elders of the village, moved by these words and the honesty they witnessed, gathered to discuss what should be done. After much reflection, they agreed it was time to let go of the past and embrace forgiveness.

With their blessings and hopes for a peaceful future, Vishalakshi and Vikram were married. The village celebrated their union, a symbol of love that had endured hardship, and of healing that had begun in even the darkest places.

The sun rose gently over the village on the day of Vishalakshi and Vikram’s wedding. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers and the cheerful sounds of celebration. Villagers gathered, their faces bright with smiles and eyes glistening with tears of joy.

Raghavulu stood proudly beside his daughter, feeling a mixture of emotions relief, happiness, and a deep sense of peace he hadn’t known in years. Vishalakshi, radiant in her wedding attire, looked at Vikram with unwavering love and trust. Vikram, though still a revolutionary at heart, stood tall knowing he had found a home and family.

The ceremony ended with laughter, music, and dancing under the open sky, a celebration not just of marriage but of forgiveness and the power of love to heal even the deepest wounds.

The past, with all its pain and loss, felt distant now, replaced by hope and new beginnings.

The End...