A long time ago, during the Mughal dynasty, there was an old woman named Ratnavali. Everyone thought she was mad. She used to speak of pride, love, treachery, and weakness. She predicted the rise of Akbar the Great. She foretold the treachery and cruelty of Aurangzeb and predicted the fall of the Mughal empire. But still, nobody listened to her. Years passed, and eventually, she became older. On a wistful autumn day, she lay on her deathbed, quietly listening to the birds chirping. To her, minutes passing felt like entire years flying right past her. This autumn day was the same day that, for the first time, she laid silently, not a word slipping from her mouth. As time passed by, the people realized their disregard and honored her. For this was something she never predicted.
