Welcome to Women in History by Suranya, a series where I retell the lives of some of the most powerful and fascinating women from ancient and medieval times, both in India and around the world. Here, I bring to life the stories of remarkable figures like Roxanne, the Bactrian princess and wife of Alexander the Great, whose marriage was as much a political alliance as a love story; Saibai, the beloved wife of Shivaji; Devi, the devoted consort of Emperor Ashoka; and Nur Jahan, the influential Mughal empress known for her sharp intellect and power. I also delve into the reign of Raziya Sultan, the rare female ruler of Delhi, and the poetic brilliance of Zeb-un-Nisa. The courage of freedom fighter Matangini Hazra, the royal grace of Jahanara Begum, and the debated history of Jodha Bai, with a fact check on her true identity, Roopmati and the love saga of Mandu are all part of this journey. Finally, there’s Mahadevi Prabhavati, daughter of Chandragupta from the Gupta dynasty, whose story adds to the rich tapestry of women who shaped history. Through their glory and downfalls, love and life, I share these tales in my own voice, blending history with folklore narrative to honour their enduring legacies.
This historical short story is a fictitious account of Ashoka, the Mauryan Emperor and his first wife Devi, who finds no place in Magadhan History. There is another fiction about her in the blog as well. This story stemmed from a merge of two ideas, one was to mention the cave inscription found in Saru Maru that mentions Asoka spending some days there with his lover (presumed to be Devi), the other idea of how if words did not immortalise a lot of battles and achievements, the names of many great men would be lost in time. The prince stood on the edge of the cliff, looking at the horizon. Dawn arrived as the birds started leaving their nests, wings fluttering, eager to discover the world. He looked up at them, the thought of once again going back to exploring the length and breadth of his state making him feel a little restless as he eyed his healing wounds. He was left to die; his enemies wished so. Yet by some miracle of fate, as if his purposes were yet to be fulfilled, here he was ...