Today with A.I.

In the shadow of the great Shaniwar Wada, the heart of the Maratha Confederacy, there stood a woman whose gaze was as fierce as the warriors training in the courtyard below. Her name was Veerangana, a widow of a Maratha soldier, and she was as much a part of the fort's soul as the stone and mortar that held it upright. As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of fire, Veerangana's thoughts wandered to the North, where her son, Vinayak, marched with the Maratha forces. She remembered the morning he left, the pride in his eyes, the resolve in his step. The image of him riding away had been etched into her heart, a bittersweet tattoo of love and fear.