The salty breeze of the Arabian sea swept across the golden shores of Ullal, carrying with it, the distant echoes of rolling waves. The evening sun painted the sky in fiery hues, casting long shadows over the stone walls of the Chowta place. Inside the palace courtyard, a young girl, no older than ten , gripped a wooden sword in her hands. Her dark eyes burned with determination as she faced her instructor, an experienced warrior clad in traditional Armor.
"Again , Rani Abbakka", the instructor commanded, his voice firm.
The girl lunged forward, her feet gliding over the ground like the tide rushing onto the shore. Her wooden sword clashed against his steel blade, and though she was smaller, she held her ground. The warriors watching from the side murmured in approval.
" Good, said her instructor. " But a queen must not only wield a sword. She must wield her mind , her people's trust, and most of all her fear."
Abbakka lowered her weapon, painting. "Fear?"
Fear is an enemy's greatest tool. If you fear them, they have already own."
She straightened, absorbing his words. Her mother, Rani Tirumala Devi , stood nearby, watching with silent pride . When the lesson ended, the queen walked over and place a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder.
" You will be a great ruler, Abbakka", she said. " Greater than any our land has seen. "
Abbakka smiled, but the moment was soon interrupted by hurried foot steps echoing through the courtyard. A messenger rushed in bowing deeply.
"Maharani", he addressed her mother. "The Portuguese have sent a message. They demand tribute... or they will return with warships."
A hush fell over the courtyard. Even at her young age, Abbakka understood the weight of those words. The Portuguese foreigners from across the sea - had already seized Goa and other territories along the coast. Now , their greedy eyes were set upon Ullal.
Her mother's face darkened. " Summon the council. We will not bow to invaders.
That night, inside the grand hall of the palace, torches flickered as the royal council gathered. The ministers spoke in hushed, urgent tones, their face drawn with worry.
"We cannot withstand the might of the Portuguese navy, "One minister argued. "Their Cannon can destroy our ports in a single attack. "
"We must negotiate, " another suggested. "Offer them gold and keep Ullal safe."
But Abbakka's mother shook her head. " Safety bought with submission is no safety at all." She turned to her daughter. "What do you think, Abbakka?"
The girl sat tall, her small fingers curled into fists. "We fight."
Silence followed. The ministers exchanged glances, surprised by her boldness.
"And how would we do that?" One of them asked with skepticisim.
Abbakka looked at the map on the table, tracing Ullal's coastline with her fingers. "We know the sea better than they do. Their ships are powerful, but they do not know our waters, we can strike at night, when the tide is in our favor."
A slow smile spread across her mother's face. "You are ready."
The ministers still murmured in uncertainty, but the decision had been made. They would not submit
That night, as Abbakka lay in her chambers, she gazed out at the ocean. Somewhere beyond the horizon, foreign ships plotted their conquest. But she was not afraid. She would become a warrior. She would become a queen.
And when the Strom of War arrived, she would be ready.