Votre sélection :
person holding what appears to be a lit torch or flame in each hand. They are positioned in profile against a dark background with a red hue. The individual is wearing traditional attire that includes a red sari and accessories such as jewelry that could suggest South Asian cultural contexts, possibly hinting at an Indian style of dress. They also have adornments on their face, which may be related to the cultural or event-specific outfit. The person's expression is neutral, and they are looking directly towards the camera with a slight tilt of the head. The lighting in the image highlights the flames and creates a dramatic effect, emphasizing the individual and the torchlight. The overall style of the photograph seems to be that of a promotional or artistic portrait. The streets of Old Delhi were abuzz with the scent of smoke and spices as Rukmini made her way through the crowded alleys. She had received an invitation from the Maharaja himself, requesting her presence at a grand ceremony to mark the beginning of the summer season.
As she walked, the flickering torches that lined the streets cast eerie shadows on the walls, making it seem as though the very spirits of old were watching her approach. Rukmini felt a thrill run through her veins; this was an honor she had never imagined receiving.
Finally, she arrived at the palace, where the Maharaja's representatives greeted her with a bow and escorted her to the grand hall. The room was filled with the cream of society, all dressed in their finest attire, but Rukmini's eyes were drawn to the figure standing at the far end of the hall.
He wore a traditional red sari, intricately embroidered with gold thread, and his face was adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to dance across his skin. His dark hair was styled in a neat, low bun, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he gazed directly at her.
Rukmini felt a jolt of electricity run through her veins as their eyes met. She couldn't quite recall the last time she had been so taken with someone's gaze. The Maharaja's representative whispered something in her ear, and Rukmini's heart skipped a beat as she realized that the mysterious stranger was none other than Rajiv, the infamous poet of the city.
As the ceremony began, Rukmini found herself drawn to Rajiv again and again, his words weaving a spell around her like a hypnotist's incantation. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a world of their own creation.
When the night drew to a close, Rajiv took Rukmini's hand, his fingers intertwining with hers as they stepped out into the cool evening air. He led her to the edge of the palace gardens, where a lone figure stood waiting.
It was the poet himself, holding two burning torches in each hand, their flames casting a golden glow over the darkened landscape. Rukmini felt a shiver run down her spine as Rajiv handed her one of the torches, and together they stepped into the flickering light, their shadows dancing across the walls like specters of old.
In that moment, Rukmini knew that she had found something truly special – a spark of creativity, a flame of passion that would burn bright for years to come. And as she gazed into Rajiv's eyes, she felt her heart ignite with a fire that would never fade.