This is Ayodhya,the unassailable city,the nerve centre of the Kosala empire.These days I wonder why anyone would care to assail this land; why would anyone want a dead horse. I see decay everywhere, stagnation, yes that would be the word - stagnation. I see fifty five dead kings of the Solar line with all their glory and I see my dying city bereft of all its vitality. I see Ayodhya as my father's city, a civilization that he loves more than himself, everything in Ayodhya reminds me of him.
But Dasharatha is old and he is worn out after his constant struggles to meet dharma and ardha meet, to make philosophy and life meet. The administration is in the hands of caucuses and priests who quote the ancient texts and set rules for every single move. Vast tracts of the plain remain barren as the priests have threatened against channeling the abundant river water,they warn about the wrath of the river Gods. Most of the produce from the countryside is set in flames for pleasing the Gods by these same priests. The result is abject poverty and disease, and the priests breed on that - poverty is their stranglehold on this empire.
Not a leaf in the administration moves without consulting the soothsayers, in Ayodhya every sunrise has its horoscope. Father will not utter a word against all this, he is weak and relies entirely on the seers and soothsayers for the sustenance of the Solar line. The nerve centre of this great kingdom has ceased to perceive. At times I feel like cutting down this forest of old Banyan trees leading upto the Sarayu river with my mighty weapons, just to bring in a little more light into this dark palace, but then I remember my father's face and I subside. I love my father more than anything in this world, more than Ayodhya, even more than Sita.
The caucuses descend upon Ayodha every new-moon day. It includes the warrior sages, farming nobility, the weapon makers and kings of adjacent territories. Ayodhya has become important to them after the seers from Himalayas gave their final solution to halt the decay of the Ganga plains. They concluded that a push to the south was inevitable and a prince of Ayodhya will deliver the rich and fertile lands of the south. Dasaratha, my father, took that up as his Dharma and waged wars against the southern kingdoms which the seers and priests had labelled evil. Father is no more the same person who lynched the Sambaras of the south, he has become weak. But when the caucuses decried that the 'old fool has lost it' I saw my father crying. He has been my strength all through my life and my heart broke. No son can watch his father cry.
Being the eldest son, I will inherit the throne of Raghuvamshis after my father. I will inherit all his beautiful land and his beautiful people. I will also inherit the caucuses, the army of priests and those vicious soothsayers - I dont want that. I dont want to ascend the throne with all my limbs tied down by this patriarchal inheritance, I want to win the throne, I want to cut down those old Banyan trees with no one stopping me, I want a new start for my beloved people, my father's beloved people and for that I will have to win the south.
The south is rich and strong because the Kshatriyas there, the warrior class, do their duty and do not contest in vain with each other like my father and Janaka on who is more Brahmin. A Kshatriya's duty is to be a warrior, despite its cruel hand. When a kshatriya tries to be something he is not, like being a brahmin, depravity and decay sets in. I will conquer the south as a Kshatriya, not for the caucuses but for myself, my father and my beloved people. Then I will be the King of kings, the Emperor. Father wants me to be the King of Kosala. He wants me to take charge tomorrow, he wants to let go. He will meet the caucuses to announce his decision.
It is a new moon day in Ayodhya, the caucuses have descended upon the city. It is the day of reckoning.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
the chariots enter Ayodhya
This is Janakapuri in the kingdom of Mithila. Janaka,the lionized king of our times presides upon his empire from here. The cool,dry,fertile city was bustling with Brahmins and soothsayers and chariots from other countries. The wedding of the king's daughters were being planned and the lobbyists and priests from other kingdoms had pounced upon Janakapuri to win the girls' hand. There were demonstrations of chivalry everywhere with hundreds of kings praising themselves on the streets,in the palaces and in front of the two princesses. The elder princess had hidden herself in an earthen jar as the uncertainity of the whole exercise was too much for her. I met her on Vishwamitra's advice. I talked to her from outside the earthen jar and she talked from inside. She had a uneasy yet uncaring tone. Finally she came out of the earthen jar with a curious smile on her face. Sita was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen,not that I had seen many,but she was different. Her careless yet intimate tone, her what may come sense of wit. Sita wasn't fair or foolish like the other princesses, Vishwamitra explained that saying Sita was the adopted daughter of Janaka. I had heard Vishwamitra's aides joking that she was originally from the Pulastya dynasty of down south and they would one day claim her. I had overheard soothsayers saying, she had bad luck in her horoscope and Janaka was rushing her into a marriage to get the bad luck off him. But these stories of lesser, cowardly, gold-seekers did not matter to me anymore. My soul was filled with her careless voice and I wished she cared for no one but me.
Janaka and my father, who had rushed from Ayodhya were all too happy with the turn of events. We the four Raghava princes married the four princesses of Janakapuri. Janaka embraced me and told that he understood who I really was and my purpose in life. I didnt understand a word of what he said but was too busy winking at the girls to think more about that. Sadly Vishwamitra bid farewell at Janakapuri. I had learnt so much from him,he was my Guru and I liked him a lot despite his angry hand. Before continuing his journey into the Himalayas,he whispered to me that he understood the lakshya -the aim - of my being born and he was happy to have played a part in that. He told me, as his part in my life was done, we would never see each other again. I was sad about that, but Vishwamitra always talks in circles and I did not think much about it after that.
Our trip back to Ayodhya with the girls was easy with the chariots and aides except for this strange angry person we met on the way. He had the same name as mine but the similarity ended there. Everything about him was angry, he seethed anger from every pore of his body. The birds clamoured and storms hit whenever he spoke, I felt the earth itself shaking a few times. This huge man walked in circles around the chariots shouting at Vasistha the sage and my father, threatening to repeat some fearful thing he had done before. The bow he had in his hand was untied, I lifted it and tied it properly. The man calmed down and came towards me. Father thought he was about to kill me and started crying like he did before Vishwamitra. The man looked at me in the eye and said he was waiting for this moment for a long time and now his purpose in life was over, he added that he understood who I really was and was giving all his blessings and powers to me. He said he was going to the Mahendra hills and thanked me for taking up the burden of preserving Dharma off his shoulders. As I think more about it, the last few days had been very confusing indeed. But with Sita around, nothing else really matters.
The chariots entered Ayodhya to celebrations and fanfare. Twelve years of peace and love descended on Ayodhya,the unassailable city.
Janaka and my father, who had rushed from Ayodhya were all too happy with the turn of events. We the four Raghava princes married the four princesses of Janakapuri. Janaka embraced me and told that he understood who I really was and my purpose in life. I didnt understand a word of what he said but was too busy winking at the girls to think more about that. Sadly Vishwamitra bid farewell at Janakapuri. I had learnt so much from him,he was my Guru and I liked him a lot despite his angry hand. Before continuing his journey into the Himalayas,he whispered to me that he understood the lakshya -the aim - of my being born and he was happy to have played a part in that. He told me, as his part in my life was done, we would never see each other again. I was sad about that, but Vishwamitra always talks in circles and I did not think much about it after that.
Our trip back to Ayodhya with the girls was easy with the chariots and aides except for this strange angry person we met on the way. He had the same name as mine but the similarity ended there. Everything about him was angry, he seethed anger from every pore of his body. The birds clamoured and storms hit whenever he spoke, I felt the earth itself shaking a few times. This huge man walked in circles around the chariots shouting at Vasistha the sage and my father, threatening to repeat some fearful thing he had done before. The bow he had in his hand was untied, I lifted it and tied it properly. The man calmed down and came towards me. Father thought he was about to kill me and started crying like he did before Vishwamitra. The man looked at me in the eye and said he was waiting for this moment for a long time and now his purpose in life was over, he added that he understood who I really was and was giving all his blessings and powers to me. He said he was going to the Mahendra hills and thanked me for taking up the burden of preserving Dharma off his shoulders. As I think more about it, the last few days had been very confusing indeed. But with Sita around, nothing else really matters.
The chariots entered Ayodhya to celebrations and fanfare. Twelve years of peace and love descended on Ayodhya,the unassailable city.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Two women and a Eunuch
This is the heartland. This is where the heart lies. Ganga gushes by as Jahnavi and Mandakini and Deva Ganga. She sure is disdainful at times despite that ancient churning and humiliation in the unending gridlocks of the ultimate masculine. Ganga would have happily been in heaven, had not Indra played his nasty trick with Sagara's sons. But then, this lady purifies our land, and her father himavan protects us. This is the heartland, this is where Ganga flows.
I keep getting these strange images in the middle of the day. I see two women in distress, pale bloodless faces, hope purged eyes. The first one drags herself through fields of unclaimed corpses, slain warriors, decaying limbs, souls chained to purgatory till eternity. The fallen are her sons who went in search of the meaning of death ,for churning out the potion of life. She searches in vain for a drop of the potion, she argues in vain for vengeance, she cries in pain when her priced foetus is cut in seven inside her womb with a thunderbolt. She is the mother.
The other woman, the ravishing one, is always in a state of suspended surprise. She remembers a man dressed up like her celibate husband, she remembers him entering every pore in her body like a thunderbolt and she, trying in vain to convince herself that she was doing no wrong. She remembers her husband cursing the thunderbolt into a piteous eunuch and condemning her to a moss-filled existence. She is the wife.
I see the man emerging from Diti's vagina and Ahalya's body. Vishwamitra says he is the arch-toppler of dynasties and as powerful as Gods. He is the smasher of enclosures, the impeller of streams, the agitator of the waters. The Gods call him their king, Indra, the King of Gods. Vishwamitra says, with my new weapons like Pratihaaratara and Dundunaabha I am more powerful than the Gods themselves. If Indra was anywhere around, I would have definitely killed him.
The men and the sage rescue Ahalya from her moss-filled existence. They continue their journey to Mithila where destiny, and its child awaits them.
I keep getting these strange images in the middle of the day. I see two women in distress, pale bloodless faces, hope purged eyes. The first one drags herself through fields of unclaimed corpses, slain warriors, decaying limbs, souls chained to purgatory till eternity. The fallen are her sons who went in search of the meaning of death ,for churning out the potion of life. She searches in vain for a drop of the potion, she argues in vain for vengeance, she cries in pain when her priced foetus is cut in seven inside her womb with a thunderbolt. She is the mother.
The other woman, the ravishing one, is always in a state of suspended surprise. She remembers a man dressed up like her celibate husband, she remembers him entering every pore in her body like a thunderbolt and she, trying in vain to convince herself that she was doing no wrong. She remembers her husband cursing the thunderbolt into a piteous eunuch and condemning her to a moss-filled existence. She is the wife.
I see the man emerging from Diti's vagina and Ahalya's body. Vishwamitra says he is the arch-toppler of dynasties and as powerful as Gods. He is the smasher of enclosures, the impeller of streams, the agitator of the waters. The Gods call him their king, Indra, the King of Gods. Vishwamitra says, with my new weapons like Pratihaaratara and Dundunaabha I am more powerful than the Gods themselves. If Indra was anywhere around, I would have definitely killed him.
The men and the sage rescue Ahalya from her moss-filled existence. They continue their journey to Mithila where destiny, and its child awaits them.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Killing of an Enchantress
This is Dandakaranya, the dark dark forest. A daily ingest of bala and atibala kept us alive through this tiresome journey through Angadesha and Kaamashrama. The sage population is pushing south by the day, they have spread across the plains and now into these southern forests. Fights and skirmishes between the forest dwellers and the sages happen everyday ; the sages have weapons, Vishwamitra himself is a sage warrior. The northerm kings like Janaka and my father aids the sages, the Pulastya king Ravana I have heard secretly helps the forest dwellers. The forest is dark and dangerous , feels like the air is impregnated with a war ,waiting to be born.
I was surprised at first when Vishwamitra asked us to trumpet the bows in the middle of the night. Tataka, a haughty middle-aged women came shouting at us from the top of the hill we were climbing. She was very annoyed at the disturbance, still she was beautiful.
"Kill her", the sage shouted "do not get mesmerized by her beauty, she is an enchantress, a yakshi and she instigates these forest people against us"
"Oh great sage" I asked "I am here to preserve dharma as you and father had said, isnt it against my dharma to kill a women and it sure is against my heart to kill such a beautiful thing"
"Your father has left me in charge of you both" Vishwamitra said "my word is the dharma, now teach her a lesson"
Tataka, the enchantress sensing danger charged at me with rage. I was terrified and accidentally released the arrow which pierced the space between her full, rounded breasts and killed her instantly. The forest suddenly became beautiful , it was as though Tataka hived in herself the entire beauty of her land , which she was releasing now forever. I felt a vacuum in my stomach , I crouched there wailing.
The sage says she was evil and he says this all the time. He was very happy that I killed her and gave me and Laxmana some powerful weapons and deadly arrows. I have started admiring the sheer power of these weapons, it makes me feel all powerful and the sage promised us more if we continue the good work. At times, I feel the sage was right, Tataka must have been evil and I did the right thing by killing her. But still, she was a beautiful enchantress.
The boys went on to kill Subahu and decimate Mareecha at Vishwamitra's ashram. The journey to the heart of darkness had begun.
I was surprised at first when Vishwamitra asked us to trumpet the bows in the middle of the night. Tataka, a haughty middle-aged women came shouting at us from the top of the hill we were climbing. She was very annoyed at the disturbance, still she was beautiful.
"Kill her", the sage shouted "do not get mesmerized by her beauty, she is an enchantress, a yakshi and she instigates these forest people against us"
"Oh great sage" I asked "I am here to preserve dharma as you and father had said, isnt it against my dharma to kill a women and it sure is against my heart to kill such a beautiful thing"
"Your father has left me in charge of you both" Vishwamitra said "my word is the dharma, now teach her a lesson"
Tataka, the enchantress sensing danger charged at me with rage. I was terrified and accidentally released the arrow which pierced the space between her full, rounded breasts and killed her instantly. The forest suddenly became beautiful , it was as though Tataka hived in herself the entire beauty of her land , which she was releasing now forever. I felt a vacuum in my stomach , I crouched there wailing.
The sage says she was evil and he says this all the time. He was very happy that I killed her and gave me and Laxmana some powerful weapons and deadly arrows. I have started admiring the sheer power of these weapons, it makes me feel all powerful and the sage promised us more if we continue the good work. At times, I feel the sage was right, Tataka must have been evil and I did the right thing by killing her. But still, she was a beautiful enchantress.
The boys went on to kill Subahu and decimate Mareecha at Vishwamitra's ashram. The journey to the heart of darkness had begun.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
the boys leave Ayodhya
This tranquil flow is the Sarayu river and the turbulence behind me is Ayodhya. We the princes of the Sun dynasty dissolve in these cold waters of Sarayu at the end of our lifes , in ashen forms. Sarayu carries the ashes into the holy Ganga and from there ,like every drop we find our ocean. Khatvanga who begot Dirghabahu;Dirghabahu who begot Raghu ;Raghu who begot Aja ;Aja who begot Dasaratha ; then me and my three brothers, all have ended or will end in this mighty flow. Sarayu is the destiny of Raghuvamshis.
Vishwamitra, the angry sage wants me to fight against the demons disrupting his holy rituals. I am twelve years old but father wants me to go. He had begged the sage with tears in his eyes but Vishwamitra insists on my going. I am afraid, I dont know what demons are but father has to keep his word,his dharma. I am setting out on this journey with Laxmana and the sage, I am terrified ,I want to stay back in Ayodhya. Did Rishyasringa curse the dynasties at the end point of his innocence , did he feed the flames of Ashwamedha with his own tears.
The two boys with quivers and bows follow the Sage Vishwamitra to keep their father's word and the warriors dharma. They would never be twelve year old boys anymore.
Vishwamitra, the angry sage wants me to fight against the demons disrupting his holy rituals. I am twelve years old but father wants me to go. He had begged the sage with tears in his eyes but Vishwamitra insists on my going. I am afraid, I dont know what demons are but father has to keep his word,his dharma. I am setting out on this journey with Laxmana and the sage, I am terrified ,I want to stay back in Ayodhya. Did Rishyasringa curse the dynasties at the end point of his innocence , did he feed the flames of Ashwamedha with his own tears.
The two boys with quivers and bows follow the Sage Vishwamitra to keep their father's word and the warriors dharma. They would never be twelve year old boys anymore.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
The End
This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
Ill never look into your eyes...again
Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...strangers hand
In a...desperate land
Lost in a roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah
Theres danger on the edge of town
Ride the kings highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby
Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake...hes old, and his skin is cold
The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and well do the rest
The blue bus is callin us
The blue bus is callin us
Driver, where you taken us
The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...i want to...fuck you
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
And meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin a blue rock
On a blue bus
Doin a blue rock
Cmon, yeah
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill
This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
It hurts to set you free
But youll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die
This is the end
Suggested read : Joseph Conrad - Heart of Darkness
Suggested rythm : The End - Doors - Jim Morrison
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
Ill never look into your eyes...again
Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...strangers hand
In a...desperate land
Lost in a roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah
Theres danger on the edge of town
Ride the kings highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby
Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake...hes old, and his skin is cold
The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and well do the rest
The blue bus is callin us
The blue bus is callin us
Driver, where you taken us
The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...i want to...fuck you
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
And meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin a blue rock
On a blue bus
Doin a blue rock
Cmon, yeah
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill
This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
It hurts to set you free
But youll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die
This is the end
Suggested read : Joseph Conrad - Heart of Darkness
Suggested rythm : The End - Doors - Jim Morrison
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Its a tag
Neermathalam has tagged me. He's promised to give his sexy username to me if i do this tag - not that I'll use it - I'll preserve it for posterity. Jus kiddin dude :)
Well the tag is simple -eight things I like or dislike abt moiself. Oh thats tough !!
and here I go blah blah black sheep have you any wool......
I like me - sometimes I like me so much that I wish senate passes that human-cloning bill. Its just that I get a bit too comfy with myself.
I'm non-venomous - I do have disagreements and sure make fun of people but it comes by nature to me that I dont get personal and I dont answer personal criticism. Its just that I dont hit below the belt.
I'm not a revolutionary - I'm not out here to prove anything though I like anarchy a lot and comment a lot on the life I see ,though my comments are not intended to change it. Its just that I come out of Watterson's Calvin and Laxman's Common man.
I'm highly brainwashable - I'll fall at your feet and accept your holiness if you have a point,often contradicting my stand till then - me the arch turncoat. Its just that I have the lightest mind in town after all this washing.
I'm a timid extrovert - I'm pretty jolly but do keep some secrets, but then I've lost a few battles. Its just that some of my best friends dont know my name.
I'm superstitious - I think there is a Distilled Gogilba galaxy with a Dondalavan subsytem and all the gandharvas and pirates and supermen and elephant head gods live in it. Its just that I think communism is still our best bet.
I'm vague - I live in a esoteric hell with metaphors for words and a stinking commitment-o- phobia for their meanings - I'm repulsive to intimacy,oh the same place Dante warned you about; and some say I respect their personal space and some others say I'm a sonofabitch. Its just that I'm a poor pisces man.
I'm sorry - I dont keep in touch with people I adore, God !,only you know how bad I feel about that , but then I'm a lazy cocoonist. Its just that my friends forgive me and thats why I adore them.
thats about it and faster than I thought :)
and about tagging others - this blog has a total of six readers who come and go. Four of them dont have blogs, one that has a blog has an altogether different format and I'll surely ask the last one standing to take this up.
Suggested read : Your feudal Lord - my autobiography (out of print)
Suggested rythm : Kashmir - Led Zeppelin (this song is killing me)
Well the tag is simple -eight things I like or dislike abt moiself. Oh thats tough !!
and here I go blah blah black sheep have you any wool......
I like me - sometimes I like me so much that I wish senate passes that human-cloning bill. Its just that I get a bit too comfy with myself.
I'm non-venomous - I do have disagreements and sure make fun of people but it comes by nature to me that I dont get personal and I dont answer personal criticism. Its just that I dont hit below the belt.
I'm not a revolutionary - I'm not out here to prove anything though I like anarchy a lot and comment a lot on the life I see ,though my comments are not intended to change it. Its just that I come out of Watterson's Calvin and Laxman's Common man.
I'm highly brainwashable - I'll fall at your feet and accept your holiness if you have a point,often contradicting my stand till then - me the arch turncoat. Its just that I have the lightest mind in town after all this washing.
I'm a timid extrovert - I'm pretty jolly but do keep some secrets, but then I've lost a few battles. Its just that some of my best friends dont know my name.
I'm superstitious - I think there is a Distilled Gogilba galaxy with a Dondalavan subsytem and all the gandharvas and pirates and supermen and elephant head gods live in it. Its just that I think communism is still our best bet.
I'm vague - I live in a esoteric hell with metaphors for words and a stinking commitment-o- phobia for their meanings - I'm repulsive to intimacy,oh the same place Dante warned you about; and some say I respect their personal space and some others say I'm a sonofabitch. Its just that I'm a poor pisces man.
I'm sorry - I dont keep in touch with people I adore, God !,only you know how bad I feel about that , but then I'm a lazy cocoonist. Its just that my friends forgive me and thats why I adore them.
thats about it and faster than I thought :)
and about tagging others - this blog has a total of six readers who come and go. Four of them dont have blogs, one that has a blog has an altogether different format and I'll surely ask the last one standing to take this up.
Suggested read : Your feudal Lord - my autobiography (out of print)
Suggested rythm : Kashmir - Led Zeppelin (this song is killing me)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
