If I had to choose between Padmavati and Cleopatra as a partner, I’d feel like I was stuck between two universes, each one pulling at my soul in completely different ways. On one hand, you have Padmavati, the Rajput queen whose life was defined by her unwavering sense of honor and sacrifice. On the other, Cleopatra, the queen of Egypt, a woman equally defined by her charisma, ambition, and ability to bend the world’s most powerful men to her will. The decision would boil down to whether I was looking for serenity rooted in dharma or passion fueled by sheer magnetism and power.
Padmavati feels like a choice for peace and unwavering closeness to divinity. She was a queen whose beauty was legendary, but that beauty wasn’t just skin-deep. She represented the ultimate ideal of a partner who didn’t live for herself but for a shared sense of honor. I keep thinking about her story—how she chose jauhar (self-immolation) over surrender to Alauddin Khilji. It wasn’t just about her body; it was about preserving her spirit, her dignity, her truth. “Dharma protects those who protect it,” say the Hindu scriptures, and Padmavati’s every action was the embodiment of that dharma.
Being with someone like her would bring a sense of calm to my soul—a life not dominated by chaos but by structure, moral clarity, and a connection to the divine. I imagine waking up beside someone like Padmavati feeling like life has a higher purpose. She would encourage the best in me, simply by being. It’s like what the Bhagavad Gita says: “One should uplift oneself by the self and not degrade oneself.” With her, I feel I’d always be striving toward that higher ground. I’d want to protect her the way Shiva guards Parvati, an eternal bond rooted in respect and divine love.
But then the firebrand Cleopatra walks in, and my heart would undoubtedly skip a beat. Let’s not forget that Cleopatra wasn’t just Cleopatra; she was the Cleopatra. The last pharaoh of Egypt. The woman who seduced Julius Caesar and captivated Marc Antony, wielding her wit and intelligence like a sword sharper than any warrior’s blade. What would life with her as my partner be? Never dull, I’ll tell you that. She embodied ambition and human touch in equal measure, proving that a ruler’s greatest strength could lie in their ability to manipulate and charm without ever losing sight of their goals.
There’s an allure to her that’s almost inevitable. Shakespeare’s description of her in Antony and Cleopatra always comes to mind: “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety: other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies.” Wouldn’t you want to be with someone who’s not only endlessly fascinating but also challenges your sense of reality every single day? Cleopatra doesn’t seem like the kind to let you rest—she’s the fire in your veins, constantly pushing you to achieve something greater, to embrace ambition and passion with reckless abandon. It would be intoxicating but exhausting, like being caught in a tidal wave that doesn’t stop.
My spiritual side questions whether Cleopatra could provide true fulfillment. Her life was ruled as much by tragedy as by brilliance. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t crave her presence, her electric energy, but I wonder if it’s the kind of energy that sustains love, or if it burns too brightly and leaves you hollow.
Choosing Padmavati feels like a prayer, a partnership reflecting the spiritual union described in Hinduism: “When the soul is united with the eternal, boundless soul, there is no unhappiness.” I’d know that I was partnering with someone whose love was not rooted in personal gain but in shared duty. Choosing Cleopatra feels like writing my name in the stars, a mad, passionate fling that might not end well but would leave memories so intense that they'd be etched into my very bones.
There’s a verse in the Bible that resonates with me when I compare these two women: “Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” (Proverbs 31:30). Padmavati’s strength lay not just in her looks but in her unflinching sense of righteousness. Cleopatra, for all her charms, was a master of games, weaving illusions, blurring lines. Did she fear the divine? I don’t know.
Ultimately, I’d choose Padmavati. Cleopatra would consume me, no doubt, and perhaps there’s a time in everyone’s life where they’d crave that kind of fire. But Padmavati… she feels eternal, a grounding force, the embodiment of someone who brings wisdom and sanctity into daily life. With her, life would be lived with purpose, aligned with cosmic law, instead of careening between ambition and downfall. There's something more peaceful in that, and peace—that’s the ultimate treasure.
