The Queen of Spades

The Queen of Spades had four suitors. No one is born a Prince, all are Kings. So there were the Kings of Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs and Spades. Of the Hearts and Clubs, both were glad to remain friends. But between the Kings of Diamonds and Spades, there rose from dusty avenues, smoky veils of mistrust and misgiving, for the Queen had loved both. And in loving, there rose fingers and mocking voices, making the veils thicker till they swamped all strength from the rays of light which had playfully played on the dusty avenues. When Love is questioned, she does not rage back, such is her faith in Truth.

The Queen of Spades had accepted the suit of the King of Spades, much before she led her entrée in the Court of Cards. And then their eyes met. The King of Diamonds raised his glass in salute, while the Queen bowed slightly. “He is a poet”, the Queen of Clubs whispered in her ear.

“The King, a poet?” whispered the Queen of Spades in surprise from behind her fan.

“Yes, he is not man enough. What man is a poet?” sniggered the King of Spades. “O, look at him speak, he is such a woman”

The Queen of Spades looked at the King of Diamonds through the designs on her fan. He was unsure of himself. He looked so different from all the other Kings in Court. He did not laugh derisively like the others, nor did he choose to establish his manliness by commenting on the weakness of the next man. And then he looked, tenderly at her fan, as if searching for a listener. And then, she loved again.

That night, as she lay in the arms of her beloved, the King of Spades, she wondered if there could truly be a man.

Someone to weave a story with, someone to share life without the questions and threads of silence; someone to share every dream with, someone who would understand, someone who would talk listless, endless and paint the pictures of beyond; a poet of love, a joy of togetherness, a spark of forever; someone to be with in the heart of hearts, in mind and words, in expression and silence….someone….a man.

And outside, a lone star twinkled in the inky blue-black night, the star on which she beheld till she closed her eyes in weary sleep, the star on which the King of Diamonds took one last look at before dipping the quill in blue-black ink. And he wrote “The Queen of Spades”…