Recap:

Valli narrates the tale of Narobha, driven by ambition and lust for Queen Tara, orchestrating King Tungabhadra’s assassination with a cursed Keris. He frames his friend Nagalingam for the murder, inciting a mob to kill him, and then presents himself as the kingdom’s savior. Parvata Vardini is left in shock and a complex mix of emotions.

Chapter 14/26: Nuances of Negotiation

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

“Oh, the one with peaceful eyes,” Valli murmured, “barely weeks after Tungabhadra’s pyre had cooled, a fragile quiet settled over Taravati. You carried the kingdom’s future within you, the heir conceived, and so a constant stream of ministers and healers attended your every need. You were adrift, my queen, unsure of which way to turn. But everyone had an opinion. But everyone, it seems, becomes an expert on another’s life, offering their pronouncements without a moment’s thought for the impact, my queen.”

Valli continued her narration…

A deep yearning stirred within Parvata Vardini – to shed the weight of her coronation name and return to her father’s house, simply as Tara. She sighed.

Just then, a security guard entered, announcing the arrival of a Buddhist bikshu. With a nod of assent, Parvata Vardini granted him entry.

A slender bikshu, appearing barely out of his teens, entered the chamber.

Parvata Vardini rose to greet him. Without uttering a single word, the young bikshu extended his hand, offering something wrapped delicately in Chinese silk. Parvata Vardini accepted the offering with a silent nod. Then, with the same swift, wordless grace, he turned and departed.

Once assured of complete solitude, Parvata Vardini carefully untied the knot on the sleeve, the gift from the bikshu. Within lay a palm leaf, meticulously folded and bearing a seal. With delicate precision, she broke the seal and unfolded the brittle leaf. The inscribed letters read:

If an alternative easier choice lies readily before you, the choice will feel easy. But when you overlook the familiar and discover a new way, that is when true growth occurs.
Manju Natha

She stood up with some effort with a sigh, due to her pregnancy. Without a moment’s hesitation, she held the palm leaf to the nearby flickering flame of the oil torch. It caught fire instantly, the script curling and blackening before dissolving into ash.

That day held a different weight. The chief minister and the head priest, accompanied by Narayana Bhattar, arrived for a crucial discussion. The minister proposed Narobha as the next ruler, highlighting his existing acquaintance with the royal family. He further emphasized the widespread disapproval of Tungabhadra’s actions against dharma, suggesting that this presented an opportunity to regain public favor. Narobha, the minister argued, could effectively bridge that gap.

Parvata Vardini recognized the subtle influence of Narayana’s hand in these carefully chosen words. Her gaze turned, sharp and unwavering, fixing on him. His eyes flickered downwards, settling on the floor.

Clearing her throat, Parvata Vardini’s voice, though steady, held a pointed edge. “Where were you that night?” she inquired, the question hanging heavy in the air, the unspoken reference to Tungabhadra’s murder.

Visibly thrown off balance by her directness, Narayana stammered slightly. “I… I traveled to Durgavati to acquire necessary items for the temple and my own household. I have a certain… aversion to the Kaniyan Koothu, Maharani. So, I preferred to be away. However,” he quickly added, steering the conversation back to safer ground, “I remain committed to my promises.” He then smoothly transitioned back to the minister’s suggestion. “When one occupies a position of public life, especially carrying the baby of the royal lineage, Maharani, certain boundaries are unavoidable in your existence.”

“You still have a life to live, Maharani. At the same time, the stability of this nation demands a strong palace, projecting unwavering authority to both our people and potential adversaries. Furthermore, the rightful lineage of the king, your son, must be restored to the throne. Narobha can serve as a vital bridge, providing support and leadership until your son reaches the age for his coronation.”

With the discussion concluding without a resolution, the room emptied.

It was some time after sunset, and the moon rose. Parvata Vardini looked quiet, yet her mind was storming in contrast. With her pregnancy not far off, she walked alone and reached the single banyan tree on the banks of Manvi. She sat on the resting platform and looked at the glitters of the moonlit river.

“Do you have ingots?” The voice drifted down from the dense canopy of leaves. Startled, Parvata Vardini’s gaze snapped upwards. Perched on a branch directly across from her, sat Sivappi, the village lunatic.

Leaning precariously against one branch, while seated on another just below, Sivappi let her spindly legs dangle in the air. With painstaking slowness, she dried her soaked hair, evidence of a recent bath. The strong wind whipped her white strands into a frenzy, making her resemble a spectral betal, her pallid form accentuated by a white sarong, white hair, and bare chest.

“Why are you staring at me? Don’t have any ingots, or what?” Sivappi planted her hands on either side of the thick branch supporting her back. “The moon,” she declared, tilting her head towards the night sky, “is always solitary, yet it knows no loneliness.” She mumbled to herself for a moment, then continued, “There’s no decree of right or wrong. The moon chose its path. It accepts the consequences.”

Parvata Vardini looked at her, but Sivappi didn’t care. “Life with ingots or life without ingots. The moon chose no ingots. But I chose to search for it.” She gave an unimpressive laugh.

“Hey, get lost, you crazy old hag!” Narobha strode into view.

“Crazy? .. me? And what about you?” Sivappi retorted, then agilely swung herself to another part of the tree. The queen observed her fluid movement, like a wild monkey leaping effortlessly through the branches.

“I came to meet you, esteemed queen,” Narobha said, turning his attention to Parvata Vardini.

Kesi Mami and Janaki Mami finished their prayers at the Ananta Sayani Kesava Perumal temple. They settled down on the temple’s outer walkway and began to chat.

“It’s been over two years, Mami,” Kesi said to Janaki.

“Since you had your fun with your husband?” Janaki replied with a hint of sarcasm.

“Shhh… this is a temple… No, that’s not what I meant. It’s been over two years since our former king, Tungabhadra, was murdered,” Kesi clarified, starting their conversation.

“Oh, that… Yes. I was so frightened by that twin murder. It was a terrible thing. I worried our country would fall into chaos,” Janaki agreed and continued, “Luckily, our queen took control and brought the country back to order. If she hadn’t… well, only Ananta Sayani knows what would have happened.”

“Yes, I do wonder how she agreed to marry Narobha, her own military leader. But it hasn’t been bad, you know. He’s changed a lot since the wedding. Unlike Tungabhadra, he follows what’s right; he respects Shaivite, Vaishnavite and Buddhist teachings. It’s all thanks to Ananta Sayani‘s kindness,” Kesi praised.

“True, Mami. He is not Narobha any more. He is Maharaj Narasingha Sudan.” She smiled and continued “Some people say it wasn’t Nagalingam who killed Tungabhadra. Did you hear that?” Janaki added, joining the rumor mill.

Kesi nodded, indicating she’d heard the whispers. “Those were such dramatic times. People say Narobha too was involved, with help from his friends and…” she glanced around before continuing, “…the previous head-priest of this temple, Narayana Bhattar. Did you see how much he received in donations from King Narasingha Sudan?”

“Yes, seven veli-s of land near the lake, and he was promoted to an advisor to the king. He also donated generously to Nagalingam’s family and the blacksmith Maran Saththan’s family. But they are both dead. Why would the king donate to them? That’s where the mystery lies,” Janaki pondered.

“Who knows? As long as our lives aren’t affected, it’s fine. But look, now that the country is stable, we see traders arriving from the dynasties of Chola from west and Song from east,” Kesi observed. “But marrying Narobha while carrying Tungabhadra’s child? Wasn’t that terrible, Mami? Within months of the marriage, she gave birth to Vallabhan Pasupati, Tungabhadra’s son. And just now, she delivered Bharatan Parameswara, Narobha’s son.” Kesi looked into Janaki’s eyes, expressing her concern.

“Do you think she was wanted it? Becoming queen wasn’t her choice either. Tungabhadra abducted her… Who knows what pressure she was under? Maybe she made that decision for her baby and for us, the citizens. She also advised Narobha to abandon his bad intentions and follow the path of Dharma. Besides, the country clearly knows who the next king will be. It will be Pasupati. So, the country will be peaceful for the next generation, right? No more bloodshed,” Janaki reasoned thoughtfully.

“That’s true, Mami. Since she became queen, this country feels blessed. She’s not just a queen; she’s like a mother-figure for Taravatians.”

Their conversation ended as they decided it was time to leave the temple.

I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z

Note:

• This fiction is a retelling of a mythology.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.

Recap:

Valli narrates the tale of Narobha, a divine robber, and Tara, forced to marry King Tungabhadra. Driven by ambition and the manipulative Brahmin Narayana Bhattar, Narobha plots to kill Tungabhadra using a cursed keris stolen from its maker, whom he murdered. Rumors of the Keris’s magic spread, and Narobha rents it to his friend Nagalingam.

Chapter 12/26: Ladder to Treachery

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Valli sat across from Queen Tara (a) Parvata Vardini in the war room, the dim glow of oil lamps casting long shadows on the intricate tapestries. Tara leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her gaze unwavering as she listened to Valli’s every word. Valli, her own posture composed, occasionally gestured with a slender hand as she recounted the unfolding past, her eyes reflecting a knowing sadness.

“Rani,” Valli began, her voice a low murmur that filled the silent chamber, “even as the whispers of the magical keris spread through Taravati, and Nagalingam proudly displayed his rented prize, Narobha was meticulously positioning himself for his final, treacherous act…”

Narobha was already free to move within the palace. Indeed, he had been approved as a personal security guard for Tungabhadra upon Narayana Bhattar‘s recommendation. He made sure Tungabhadra didn’t hear the gossip about the keris. He threatened his knights, if they inform king about anything without his knowledge, will be treated as insubordination and punished.

Wherever the king’s palanquin, chariot, or horse traveled, Narobha was in tow. The king’s comfort of the moment was misleading and temporary, like a rat that has only briefly escaped a snake.

Narobha frequently had opportunities to see Parvata Vardini. The challenge was to observe her discreetly. When Tungabhadra was away, his gaze would often linger on her. Sensing his eyes on her, Parvata Vardini turned towards Naroba sharply, like a cobra raising its hood. Naroba would then look away. Even when king and queen travelled in chariot, she felt his gaze continuously which made her so uncomfortable.

On the other hand, Narayana Bhattar advices Narobha to support Tungabhadra by taking over his worries in management. Narobha streamlined the tax collection and he purposefully ensured he lead the procession of traders and citizens came to meet King to pay the tax and offerings. He made the tax offering nearly as a ritual. That made Tungabhadra very happy and freed from worries.

After trade, Narayana’s next target was local justice system. Narobha spread his influence towards local court; he built an image like he respects the jury, and bring the offenders to the court. He lobbied with the jury often, and arranged for meeting between jury and king often. This provide an image to jury, as if king pay them respect after Narobha came in. On the other hand, Tungabhadra thought, Narobha did everything with his presence.

He climbed multiple levels within the bureaucratic hierarchy. Before long, he ascended to the position of head of the armed forces.

On the first day of the new moon, the palace was abuzz with celebrations for Queen Parvata Vardini’s conception of the future king. Offerings were made at all the temples, and free food, including meat, was distributed widely. The palace offered sarongs, dried fruits, and nuts to the populace.

Tungabhadra was jubilant that day. Everyone greeted him with congratulations. He drank excessively that night. Parvata Vardini remained with the medics and priests, appearing content.

On the same day evening, Kaniyan Koothu festival, a celebration intended to appease the graveyard deity Sudalai Madan, was scheduled. Narobha told Tungabhadra that it is enough to leave the people to celebrate it and there is no need for royal presence. It was comfortable for Tungabhadra, who was tired already.

That evening, Narayana Bhattar departed from town saying he wanted to procure items for the temple. On the outskirts of the town, near the graveyard, he saw Kaniyan-s, conductors of Kaniyan Koothu festival, getting ready to conduct the festival. Annavi, the head kaniyan, was coordinating the activities. Couple of his team members dressed as females, few other kaniyan-s are unpacking the musical instruments like parai, kanjira, pambai, urumi and murasu.

At midnight, Narobha left his residence, not on horseback, but on foot; a collection of duplicate keys tucked into his waist, face covered with a black cloth. He moved with caution and speed.

The wind from the sea was unusually gentle, and the entire town was asleep. Narobha’s legs moved swiftly, as if driven by a singular, final destination. They halted at the rear of Nagalingam’s residence, the man who had acquired the keris from Narobha.

Looking in both directions, he carefully pulled apart the palm-stick fencing. The creaking sound caused him to pause momentarily. Then, placing his hands on the top of the fence, he vaulted over it. The grassy area beyond was wide and damp.

Familiar with the layout, Narobha reached the back door. His initial attempts to open it failed. He then tried a side window, which he found ajar. From his toolkit, he assembled several pieces to create a long rod, approximately of one person’s height, with an S-shaped hook at the end. He inserted this through the window gap to disengage the door latch. After some effort, the lock released from the inside. He slipped inside on tiptoe, like a kathak dancer. The keris was prominently displayed on a wooden table, flanked by two elephant tusks.

He carefully retrieved the keris, making no sound, and left the house, ensuring the door was closed behind him.

Note:

• This fiction is a retelling of a mythology.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.

Recap:

Valli, a fortune teller, narrates the intertwined destinies of Narobha, a robber of divine origin, and Tara, forced to marry the tyrant Tungabhadra. Guided by the cunning Brahmin Narayana Bhattar, Narobha seeks power. At a religious gathering orchestrated by Tungabhadra and Mahakala, Narobha becomes obsessed with Queen Tara and plots to assassinate the king with a magical Keris. In his haste, Narobha murders the keris maker and steals the unfinished weapon, which is now cursed.

Chapter 11/26: Keris’s Hunger

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Valli poured water from the brass jug into a bamboo tumbler, drank, and exhaled a sigh.

“O, you with teeth of perfect grace, listen to this – there are different addictions for different people: land, gold, women. But the addiction that brings everything is the power to rule. The influence of power is all-encompassing. We saw this in the case of your husband, Tungabhadra.

A thug simply crushed a priest’s family as if it were his right. He married a young girl to boast of his conquest, never considering her feelings. Would she ever live happily with the man who abducted her, who murdered her father, and whose actions were cursed by her father? Yet, the power of ruling promises everything. When unchallenged, everything within reach becomes one’s own possession.

There was no one, dear queen, to lend an ear to your lament, to sit and console you, or even simply to listen to your pain. Your suffering yielded no solace. Your husband’s malevolence ultimately made you a survivor.”

Another man was consumed by the addiction to power. Narobha retrieved the half-forged keris and concealed it in his dwelling in Taravati.

Meanwhile, Narayana Bhattar and Narobha began to spread rumors about the existence of a magical Keris. In temples, monasteries, bars, and markets—everywhere—Narobha’s magical Keris became a subject of discussion. Various myths embellished the original tale.

“If the evil Narobha throws his keris, everyone says it will kill seven people before returning to him,” Kesi Mami, a resident of Taravati, confided to Janaki Mami, as they walked to the Manvi River for water.

Narayana Bhattar was pleased that the keris and Narobha had become the talk of the town. Meanwhile, news of this buzz reached the Palace. While Tungabhadra was preoccupied with supporting the Kaniyan Koothu festival, a celebration inherited from Tamil land, intended to appease the graveyard deity Sudalai Madan and thus the people, he remained unaware of the keris increasing popularity. Even if he had known, his reaction was uncertain – puppets are controlled and cannot think for themselves..

As everyone talked about keris, most of the residents wanted to touch and feel it, some of them wanted to possess it as well. Narobha’s friend, Nagalingam, fearing he would be left out of something significant, came to his hut to negotiate its purchase.

Valli observed, “People like Nagalingam are often the biggest losers. Tempt them, and they will be eager to be manipulated to spend their money, my queen! Ultimately, they become the architects of their own financial ruin.”

Narobha negotiated and rented the keris for a hefty fee. Nagalingam, pleased with his acquisition, took it everywhere, making sure to display it prominently.

It became yet another topic of town gossip. Janaki Mami was washing her vessels behind her house when Kesi Mami came to fetch water from the well. “Did you hear?” Kesi exclaimed. “Narobha is no longer all-powerful. His strength resided in that magical Keris, and now Nagalingam possesses it. He might even challenge the king!”

Still unclear about the excitement surrounding the keris, Janaki Mami vigorously scrubbed her brass vessel with tamarind. However, something turned up that night that even made Janaki Mami ponder the keris.

I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z

Note:

• This fiction is a retelling of a mythology.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.

Recap:

Valli, a fortune teller, recounts the intertwined destinies of Narobha, a robber of divine origin, and Tara, forced to marry the tyrant Tungabhadra. Guided by the cunning Brahmin Narayana Bhattar, Narobha seeks power. At a religious gathering orchestrated by Tungabhadra and Mahakala, Narobha becomes obsessed with Queen Tara and plots to assassinate the king with a magical keris.

Chapter 10/26: Justifiable Haste?

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Valli sat across from Queen Tara in the war room, the weight of the unfolding narrative filled the room. Tara leaned forward, her gaze fixed on Valli, a storm of emotions – sorrow, anger, and a flicker of grim anticipation – swirling in her eyes. Valli, her own expression a mixture of empathy and the detached observation of a storyteller, continued to weave the fateful events.

“Rani,” Valli began, her voice low and steady, “The fate was relentlessly shaping the path of Narobha, the man unknowingly bound to your destiny. Consumed by his sudden infatuation…”

Narobha did not sleep that night.

The thought, “What a woman she is!” echoed in his mind as he recalled Queen Parvata Vardini. Every movement she made, from the unveiling of the red palanquin to her return inside, remained vivid. Her eyes, reminiscent of newborn chicks, her nose, as delicate as a tender mango, and her lips, the hue of polished carnelian, held him spellbound.

Deprived of sleep, driven by his impulsive mind and unaware of the potential adverse effects, he set out for Panaikulam village early in the morning to meet Maran Saththan, the blacksmith.

“It has been just three months. I asked for a year, did I not? The keris is not fully ready,” Maran expressed his displeasure with Narobha’s impatience and impulsiveness. Such customers were difficult to manage.

“But I am running short of time. Does crafting a keris and chanting a few mantras truly require a year? That’s ridiculous!”

“Ahaang. Then go and do it yourself. It is a skill, not as simple as burgling someone’s house,” Maran retorted, turning away and deliberately pricking Narobha’s pride.

Narobha’s anger flared at Maran’s insulting comparison. “What did you say?” he challenged Maran Saththan.

“The truth! A robber is to be called a robber,” Maran shouted back. Driven by impulse and blinded by anger, Narobha seized the half-finished Keris and stabbed Maran, his realization of the gravity of his action coming only afterward.

“What… what have you done? you fool. ” Maran choked out, the pain seizing him. “I tried to help you… why this senseless attack?” His strength failing, he slumped to the workshop floor, his outstretched finger accused Narobha.

“Hear this, Narobha. You came into my workshop, killed me, and stole a half-finished keris. Let me tell you, this keris will kill you. Not only you, it will taste the blood of seven people including you. O God, bring my words to life!” A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the auspicious northeastern sky. Maran Saththan offered a faint smile to Narobha.

Narobha bowed down, collapsed to sit nearby. He struck his forehead with his palm in helplessness and feeling bad about the sin he committed to Maran.

“Hey, Maran… please,” he choked out. “Please take back your words. It was done in anger. I am so .. terribly sorry. I will support for your family. Plea…”. But it was too late. The smile on Maran’s frozen face held a terrifying stillness for Narobha. Unable to bear the overwhelming dread, he fled, running back.

Though the horse was unaware of the murder, Narobha’s terror infected it. Sensing the urgency, and it surged forward, each powerful thud of its hooves sending plumes of dust into the air.

I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z

Note:

• This fiction is a retelling of a series of historical events.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.

Recap:

Valli, a fortune teller, narrates the intertwined lives of Narobha, a robber of divine origin, and Tara, a virtuous woman forced into marriage with the tyrant Tungabhadra. Narayana Bhattar, a cunning Brahmin, mentors Narobha, aiming to seize power. Tungabhadra’s oppressive rule and Narobha’s obsession with Tara set the stage for conflict at a grand religious gathering.

Chapter 9/26: Intricate Conspiracy

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Tara asked her attendants to bring Valli to the war room once again. That day, Tara entered, offered prayers to the Prajna Paramita sculpture, and smiled at Valli before sitting on the mattress. Valli, sensing Tara’s eagerness to continue the story, resumed her narration.

“Narayana Bhattar explained that assassinating Tungabhadra was not as simple as Narobha imagined. To succeed, Narobha would need a magical keris, a dagger of Suwarnadvipa, an island nation in the east.”

A magical keris was no ordinary dagger. It was not merely cast iron shaped in a wavy pattern, but a weapon imbued with mantras, designed to awaken the dormant gods within it.

Though the religious event had concluded, Narayana and Narobha remained in Taravati to establish contacts and execute their plan.

Narobha pondered how to acquire such a keris. He recalled his gambling friend, Pangan Sambatti, who had useful connections.

Narobha contacted his friend, who directed him to Maran Saththan of Panaikulam village in Durgavati. Maran was an expert smith, well-versed in the Atharva Veda.

“It can be done,” Maran said, “but such a keris will cost around 100 gold coins, and I require a year.”

“That’s exorbitant!” Narobha exclaimed.

Maran retorted, “Then take a common dagger. Do not ask me to customize.” He closed the conversation. Narobha ordered the keris and paid an advance of 20 gold coins.

Meanwhile, Narayana Bhattar secured a position at the nearby Ananta Sayani Kesava Perumal temple in Taravati. One evening, he waited at the temple doors for someone. Narobha sat near the demon sculpture on the short compound wall.

“Come down, Narobha,” Narayana said, his voice laced with his characteristic bray-like laughter. “For a moment, I thought there were two bhootham-s.”

Narobha jumped down and sat on the raised platform near the Hanuman shrine. “Isn’t it late for sayaraksha?” he asked.

“I’m awaiting an important person, today’s donor.”

Before Narayana finished, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from the temple doors. A palanquin, carried by four men, arrived. A golden finger, adorned with a ring of red coral surrounded by emeralds, parted the red velvet screen of the palanquin.

“It was you,” Valli inquired, “do you recall emerging and entering the temple, where Narayana Bhattar greeted you, Rani?”

Tara remained silent. Valli continued.

“Maharani Sri Devi’s arrival made the hour feel auspicious. almost as if Sridevi herself had come to Vishnu. Welcome,” Narayana Bhattar offered formal greetings.

Parvata Vardini entered the temple, followed by her attendants carrying shining brass plates laden with garlands made of jasmine and tulsi, loose hibiscus flowers and tulsi leaves, aromatics such as sandalwood, agil, and powdered benzoin, and auspicious items like sindoor and turmeric.

Shortly after, Tungabhadra, the king, arrived at the temple. Though he had little interest in Shaivism, Vaishnavism, Buddhism, or the nascent Islam, he felt pressured to appease the priests and, by extension, the people. With a forced smile, he accepted the formal greetings and offered a silk and cotton mixed sarong as his contribution.

As the temple bells tolled with the chant of “Om Om Om,” the royal couple entered the ardha mandapa, and Narayana Bhattar began the sayaraksha pooja for Ananta-Sayani with her consorts Sri Mahalakshmi. They worshiped Sri Andal in her dedicated shrine. No one was permitted to remain during the worship, not even the queen’s attendants. Narayana Bhattar concluded the pooja and offered prasadam to the king and queen.

Later, Narayana’s attendants escorted Tungabhadra to the circular path around the temple, where offerings for the people were arranged. As Tungabhadra emerged from the ardha mandapa, people were permitted to approach him and receive gifts. Those who received gifts blessed and greeted Tungabhadra, furthering his aims.

Narobha, captivated by the queen, lost his composure. He did not follow her, but observed the pooja from a distance. He noticed Narayana engaging Parvata Vardini in a serious discussion. Despite the lack of argument, the discussion clearly concerned a serious matter, and worry was evident.

Narobha stood prominently in the path of the procession around the temple. The queen wore a white kemban and a floral motif batik, likely imported from Suwarnadvipa. Though he had seen her during her ritual bathing in the river, he was struck anew by her beauty. He thought, “Tungabhadra was no fool to commit such a crime. If I were king, I would have abducted her too! She is utterly captivating.”

After distributing the offerings, the royal couple prepared to depart in Tungabhadra’s chariot. Narayana paused Tungabhadra before he left, calling Narobha to his side.

“This is the man I mentioned,” Narayana said.

“I know him well.. very well..” Tungabhadra replied angrily.

“Dear King” Narayana began. “The past is past! He now walks the path of Dharma, and I guide him towards eternity. His skills can be used for good. He has promised me he will be a worthy guard, protecting you from the rebels who seek to usurp your throne.”, he then turned to Narobha and gestured an order.

Narobha bowed respectfully and murmured “I will be the King’s guard and his shadow. Whoever opposes him will first face my sword.”

Tungabhadra looked deeply into Narobha without replying, then he turned his eyes to Narayana Bhattar.

“You speak well, Brahmana. You are a wise man from Tamil land, educated in Kanchipuram and Kannauj. I will consider your words and give you my decision.” Narayana took the absence of a negative reply in Tungabhadra’s response as a positive sign. Narobha was struck by the contrast between Narayana’s skill and Tungabhadra’s lack of intelligence.

The chariot carried the royal couple away, its wheels leaving impressions on the wet sand. The empty palanquin followed, mirroring the emptiness in Narobha’s mind.

—

I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z

Note:

• This fiction is a retelling of a mythology.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.

Recap:

Valli, a fortune teller, arrives at Queen Parvata Vardini’s court and begins recounting a tale of intertwined destinies. She narrates the story of Kandika’s son, Narobha, a divine child turned robber, and the virtuous Tara, who is abducted by the tyrant Tungabhadra and made queen. Narobha, seeking power, aligns with a Brahmin, Narayana Bhattar, while Tungabhadra’s actions lead to a curse and growing unrest. Narobha and Narayana Bhattar plan for a change in kingdom

Chapter 8/26: Heavenly Obsession

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Queen Tara didn’t get any sleep. Fortune-teller Valli‘s narration and her own troubled thoughts kept her awake. She rose from her bed and stood near the large window, gazing at the moonlit rain-forest. The palace oil torches cast dim lights. As the king was away, she was able to reflect on her past. Though still saddened by her father’s memory, she continued to survive. Valli’s words echoed in her ears.

Valli said earlier in that day, “One day, Tungabhadra, the king and Tara’s husband, announced a religious gathering of all religions. The announcement stated that seers of Shaktam from Chera, Saiva Siddhanta of Gonamalai Patna, Ajivaka of Tamil land, and Vaishnavites from Pallava lands would participate.”

Narayana Bhattar said to Narobha, “This is the time.”

With arrangements made by Narobha, both of them traveled to Taravati.

The preparations made by Tungabhadra and Mahakala – King of Durgavati kingdom on the other side of Mount Ranadhira – were lavish. Groups of people welcomed the guests and showed them to pandal-s for their stay. Temporary Annachatra-s provided food three times a day. Local Buddhist, Shaivite and Vaishnavite shrines received generous donations to organize pooja-s. Local merchants were pleased with the opportunity to make money. In addition to Silk merchants of Kashi, Pattu Saliya-s, and Padma Saliya-s opened their shops, selling their silk and fine cotton fabrics.

Smoke constantly rose from the kitchens. Ox-carts regularly distributed firewood to each kitchen. Communication systems were established using drums to address any ad-hoc missing items, ensuring they were obtained from the warehouse and distributed to the workers.

Narayana Bhattar took a pinch of nasyam powder from a knot in his sarong, inhaled it with a screeching sound, cleared his throat, and cleaned his nose with a towel. He and Narobha settled into their cottage.

“The two kings want to please the religious leaders and gain their approval,” said Narayana.

“But why?” asked Narobha.

“Because they can sanctify them and make people believe in them.”

“If priests believe the king, will the people believe them too?”

“It’s a universal truth, Narobha! Few priests are strict in their duties, but many others are susceptible to influence. Now, about tomorrow’s conference…”

Narayana murmured a few ideas into Narobha’s ear, and Narobha listened carefully.

“Will it work out?”

“I think so. You need to be a leader in your own right, or challenge the existing leader and establish your presence,” Narayana concluded, before leaving for his evening bath and rituals.

The next day morning, Narobha happened to arrive early, before taking a dip in the Manvi River. He enjoyed diving and staying underwater for long periods. Accidentally, while swimming underwater, he reached a prohibited area – a temporary ritual bathing area for royal ladies and lady seers attending the religious event.

Luckily, no one was present. A palanquin carried by four men arrived and dropped someone off before leaving. A lady opened the red velvet screen and emerged from the palanquin.

They reached the covered shelter guarded by female attendants. Narobha, seeing them approach, hid himself near the temporary arrangements.

The lady entered the river through steps leading into the water, prayed and took three holy dips, and came out. She sensed human eyes on her back and turned around. She saw a brownish man, Narobha, submerged and swimming fast underwater. She ordered their attendants to find him but returned to the palace instead of going to the event, as she was afraid to change her clothes there.

Arrival time at the event campus was approaching . Parvata Vardini wore a white silk with silver zari that day, choosing minimal ornaments, befitting the religious festival. By the time she reached the venue, it was crowded. The king was absent, as the event was to be presided over by her. She welcomed guests of different beliefs from various parts of the world.

With reddish lips from chewing betal, an old Brahmin volunteered his name as Narayana Bhattar. He attempted to project himself as a mature and sensible demeanor. Beside him stood a brown-skinned man with eager eyes, reminiscent of someone seen in the royal ladies’ private area by the river. She frowned and moved on to the next guest, later leaving after inaugurating the event.

Her attendants informed them that the brownish guy was charming but spoke ill of the king. Different religious leaders were gathered, but Brahmins praised the brownish young man for his clear vision, saying he was the one who could bring justice to the land, and that a old Brahmin was promoting him among key influential dignitaries.

After the event, Narobha and Narayana Bhattar were returning to their shelters in the evening. A lunatic old woman, Sivappi, crossed their path and begged for coins.

“You have ingots, Brahmin. O Brahmin, you have ingots or not?,” she followed them despite their refusals.

On the way, Narayana took his evening bath.

“His tuft may go along with the river. Hey young man, go and warn him. He’s bald except for a patch of hair in the center of his head.” the cranky woman laughed and asked Narobha, “By the way, do you have ingots, at least?”

“Hey, go away,” Narobha threw a stone at her.

“Aww. If this stone lands on Brahmin’s bald head, what will happen, you idiot. You have ingots?” the cranky lady retorted. Eventually, the cranky lady left, and both reached their hut.

Narayana was pleased with the day’s events, satisfied with his efforts to introduce Narobha to key people. “What do you think?” Narayana asked Narobha.

Narobha didn’t respond, lost in thoughts. Narayana hit a nearby wooden pillar with a stick to bring Narobha back to reality.

“What? I’m talking about the event, and you’re in your own world,” said Narayana.

“Something happened this morning. I saw someone, very beautiful. I don’t know if ‘beautiful’ is the right word. I don’t know if she was a woman or a forest spirit. Such a heavenly, beautiful person,” Narobha explained.

Narayana listened.

“She came in a palanquin for ritual bathing.”

“What? You peeked into her bathing place? Narobha, you know why we are here.”

“I know. Don’t worry. It happened by accident. She was shining like a gold idol in the morning sunlight.”

“Who is that?”

“She is the queen. We met her at the event today,” said Narobha.

Sensing danger, Narayana warned, “Who? Rani Parvata Vardini? My goodness. Don’t say this outside, Narobha. You’ll lose your head.”

“But how can she be so beautiful?”

“She is the new queen. Tungabhadra abducted her from her father and married her. I told you that day, do you remember?”

“Oh, that one,” Narobha mused. “I need her. At any cost.”

“Hmm.” Narayana was resting his head on one of his pointing fingers and said, “That’s one way to attain the crown, Narobha. If you were talking about other girls, I would have forced you to focus on our goal. But in this case, I won’t say your thoughts are wrong. But she has a husband, who is the tyrant.”

“Of course. But I can’t stop thinking about her. Shall I kill him and make her my wife?” Narobha asked.

“It is not a Brahmin’s duty to accept or reject your idea of killing Tungabhadra…” Before he finished, there was a noise at the gate. “But the Brahmin can sanctify after you murder someone. Right, Brahmana?”

They turned towards the voice. The cranky lady stood at the door, biting a raw mango, hand outstretched, asking, “Do you have ingots?”.

—

I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z

Note:

• This fiction is a retelling of a mythology.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.

Recap: Valli, a fortune teller, arrives at Queen Parvata Vardini’s court and recounts the intertwined fates of Kandika’s divine son Narobha, who becomes a robber, and the kind-hearted Tara. Tungabhadra, a tyrant, abducts and forcefully marries Tara, leading to her becoming queen and her father’s tragic death.

Chapter 7/26: Grasping the Power

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Queen Tara (Parvadha Vardini) refused dinner and went to bed, deeply disturbed. Her attendant provided her with a plate of nuts and milk and locked the door. She was aware of all that had happened, but hearing it recounted from the beginning disturbed her greatly. She fell on the bed, face down, and immediately burst into tears. Soft cries escaped her, muffled by the walls. She longed to return to her teenage years, before the disaster, and lie down in her father’s lap. Pulling herself together, she rolled over and stared at the roof, lost in nostalgic thoughts, with scenes from the past playing over and over in her mind.

The next day, Valli was ushered into the queen’s double-walled chamber. The air was heavy with unspoken emotions. Tara sat in the low floor chair, her eyes red-rimmed, a delicate hand resting on her forehead. Valli entered and offered a silent greeting. Tara inclined her head slightly, a flicker of acknowledgment in her eyes.

There were no spoken words of greeting or inquiry about the previous day. Instead, a shared understanding passed between them. Tara’s weary sigh and the slump of her shoulders conveyed her lingering distress. Valli’s gentle gaze and the softness of her movements offered silent comfort. After a moment of shared silence, Valli continued her verse.

“One day, Narobha entered the city to commit burglary. Despite his best-laid plans, misfortune caused him to kick a brass vessel, which fell and woke everyone up. As he tried to flee, the landlord’s dog rushed out and bit him in the buttocks. In great pain, he drew his dagger and slit the dog’s throat. This enraged the landlord even more, and the whole family joined in, beating him severely. He was nearly dead when Narayana Bhattar, a Vishnu-worshipping Tamil Brahmin and a resident of Kannauj of the Rajputs, rescued him and took him to the local medical facility.”

Valli paused, her eyes meeting Tara’s. A slight frown creased Tara’s brow, a silent question in her gaze. Valli nodded almost imperceptibly and continued.

“The next day, Narobha was recovering, his cheeks showing traces of clotted blood. Narayana Bhattar came to the medical facility around noon.

He asked Narobha, “Oh, you are conscious. Praise the god. I thought you wouldn’t regain your conscious for a week,” he laughed in a way others would get irritated. This was a typical way of engaging people for him. His laughter, a ‘heh hen’ sound, came from his throat, not his heart, and he used it as a filler during conversations.

On seeing Narobha not replying, Narayana did not give up. He continued his teasing and laughing. Narobha thought his laughing sound made him remember donkey’s braying. On realizing it Narobha smiled. But, taking that as an approval, Narayana continued.

He came again the next day. He seemed knowledgeable, but Narobha was suspicious. The following day, as Narobha left the medical facility, Narayana met him and invited him to the nearby Ulagalanthar Temple, the shrine of Vishnu, the one who measured bhuvar-loka and bhuloka-s with his legs.

Narobha, losing patience, asked, “Hey Brahmin. Do you know who I am? What do you want from me? Why do you keep following me?”

Narayana, unperturbed, replied, “Come with me. Spend a few hours with me. If you still want to leave afterward, you are free to go.”

Narobha agreed.

They sat by Sreeman Pushkarani, the temple lake. Narayana, claiming to be a traveler, said he knew of Narobha and his courage. He reminded him of his divine origins.

“And now is the time to activate your goodness and make your fortune using that strength,” he said.

“What are you trying to do?” Narobha asked.

“Raise you as a ruler,” Narayana replied.

Narobha frowned, then immediately asked, “How?” revealing his desire for power.

“Don’t ask ‘how,’ ask ‘why.’ Both Mahakala, the ruler of Durgavati and Tungabhadra, the ruler of Taravati, are tyrants. They defy rules of Dharma and are self-serving scoundrels. No one is happy. Even now, Tungabhadra abducted the priest’s daughter. It wasn’t marriage, but a desire for the girl.”

Tara’s hand clenched slightly on the bedsheet, her face tightening with suppressed anger. Valli’s voice softened, her gaze compassionate and she said, “Narayana Bhattar persuaded Maharani, ‘We Brahmins also suffer. We are forced to worship Mahakala as a god. How can I utter his name with the same mouth that says the Narayana Mantra? We need a change in rulers. We need new blood.’”

Narobha interrupted, “But Brahmana, I am a burglar.”

Narayana Bhattar continued, “…and a thug. I know. Even those with less than virtuous beginnings can ascend to leadership. To rule effectively, one must first secure their position. Being perceived as capable, even if through carefully cultivated appearances, is the initial step.”

Narayana Bhattar’s words sparkled, “If your flaws remain concealed from the populace and your strengths are strategically displayed, then the path to influence, even kingship, opens. I understand the necessary measures to cultivate the people’s trust – through calculated displays of generosity, strategic alliances, and the suppression of dissent. You need not fundamentally alter your nature, but rather, channel your abilities with foresight and heed my counsel. Through strategic action and careful planning, our mutual objectives can be achieved.’”

Narobha, though still suspicious, was intrigued.

Narayana, sensing his doubt, said, “A single person cannot do it alone. But things are changing. The planets are changing. There is widespread anger against Tungabhadra and Mahakala. I can see that this is the right time. I will try my best.”

“What if we fail?” Narobha asked.

“’You can come with me to Kannauj. But what if we succeed?’ Narayana countered.”

I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z

Note:

• This fiction influenced by historical events
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.

Recap: Valli, a fortune teller, arrives at Queen Parvata Vardini’s palace and reveals insights into the queen’s past. She narrates the story of Kandika, who is destined to give birth to a divine child, and the troubled life of that child, Narobha, who becomes a robber. Valli then describes Tara’s virtuous early life.

Chapter 6/26: Fractured Lotus Stem

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Valli began, her face devoid of expression, yet tinged with sorrow. “You can offer a caged bird food, your highness, but it yearns for the sky. Alas, humans often fail to realize this in their lifetime.”

Tungabhadra -the local king – who was hunting for Narobha – the local robber – abruptly changed his plans. Instead of retiring to his bedroom for an afternoon nap, he went to his stables and ordered his attendant to prepare his chariot. The two-horse chariot raced towards its target: Purvadasa Nagadutta‘s – the priest’s – house. He dismounted leisurely, as everyone watched, puzzled by his presence at such an odd hour in such an unexpected place. Opening the gate at his own pace, he entered Nagadutta’s yard. Suga, the clever parrot, began to screech in its deep voice, “Thiiiieeeef! Thiiiieeef!” Tara came to the doorway to investigate the commotion. She was, in fact, shocked to see the king.

She offered a formal greeting and welcomed him inside.

“I wish to meet the priest,” Tungabhadra lied.

“I am sorry, your highness. It is his prayer time. He is in the forest.”

“Oh… he told me… I forgot… Very well, I will come another time.” As he turned to leave, he paused and asked for a cup of water. When she returned with the water jug, he leaned slightly to adjust his posture, then seized her, lifted her, and carried her out of the house.

Everyone watched the tyrant, speechless. The cries of Tara and Suga faded into the distance.

“Crying is not new to this world, your highness,” Valli said. “Rani Sita’s cries were heard. Rani Drowpati’s cries were also heard. Even the toddy shop owner’s daughter’s cry was heard. But it was not enough to save them. The world is designed to consume females. It happens again and again. When we give power to someone, we believe he is a holy person sent to save us. But no, he is fixated on power, to consume whatever he can control. And this will not stop until this world ceases to be a male-dominated society.” Valli’s voice was filled with sadness. The queen listened without reacting.

Tara resisted as much as she could, but eventually, she yielded. Tungabhadra married her that very day, and she became his queen.

Nagadutta returned to his house. Suga was crying out, “Tarra… Tarra…”

“What? Why are you screaming?” Nagadutta was unaware of what had happened. His neighbors were all watching him from their steps, fences, roads, and shelters.

Suga continued to cry as Nagadutta entered the house. He assumed she had gone out briefly to play. But one of his neighbors informed him of what had occurred.

“Ammaaaa… Taraaa…” Nagadutta raised his arms towards the sky and cried out to his god. A loud cry burst from his throat, and he fell to his knees on the grass outside his house.

Despite Queen Parvadha Vardini’s eyes glistening with tears, she maintained her composure.

“Which god ever reaches the one who truly needs something, Rani?” Valli exclaimed.

The enraged priest, with his knees and toes pressed to the earth, his body shaking with sobs, looked at everyone around him. His lips stretched wide, his nose wheezing, his whole body trembling with anger, he shouted at the sky and proclaimed, “The one who was supposed to protect his citizens has become a source of trouble for them. The one who abducted my educated, innocent girl is unworthy of her. Let me tell this to nature in the name of the god I worship: he will not last long. He will not live a full life with my daughter. Let it come true,” and he struck the ground with his right hand before going inside.

A sudden flash of lightning tore across the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth.

On the other hand, Tungabhadra was overjoyed at having won the most beautiful girl on earth. He wanted to boast about it, so he declared Tara the queen of the land. His spy network informed him of Purvadasa Nagadutta’s curse. Enraged, he ordered his men to eliminate Nagadutta and continued his duties as usual.

For a ruler of his nature, this was not a significant matter. On the dawn of the next day, his men broke down the door of Nagadutta’s house. Simultaneously, Tara became the queen of the land, known as Maharani Sri Devi Parvata Vardini. As the crown was placed on her head, her father’s head was no longer on his neck.

Upon hearing this, Parvadha Vardini’s mind collapsed. She quickly left the room, fearing she would break down. Valli’s gaze remained fixed on the tiny seashells scattered on the floor. Although Valli did not see the queen, she heard her sobbing.

I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z

Note:

• This fiction is influenced by historical events.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.

Recap: Valli, a fortune teller, arrives at Queen Parvata Vardini’s palace and impresses her with insights into the queen’s past. Valli hints at intertwined curses in the queen’s future. She then narrates the story of Kandika, who is told she will give birth to a divine child. Kandika’s child, Narobha, is born and faces a difficult early life, eventually becoming a robber.

Chapter 5/26: Evocative Maiden

Part 1/2 of the novella ‘The cursed keris of Taravati’

Valli’s face bloomed with happiness. “O queen of boundless compassion, listen to me.” she began, “this valley’s beauty lay not only in the rain-laden clouds and lush greenery that danced in the mountain winds, but also in a maiden of unparalleled kindness: Tara.”

“Tara was a special girl in that village. She embodied the virtues of the goddess for whom she was named – limitless mercy and divine compassion. Her benevolence knew no bounds, embracing humans, animals, trees, and the very earth. She spent much of her time at the Bodhisattva temple, which was a serene and beautiful place. Within the temple grounds, there was a lotus pond that mirrored her grace. The lotus buds, as she passed, seemed to stir, yearning for her touch before they were plucked as offerings. Their silent plea reached the swans gliding on the pond, who would ‘kwaark… kwaark…’ to draw her gentle gaze.”

“These calls would capture the attention of the nuns gathering flowers. Seeing Tara, they would smile, captivated by her soft-spoken nature and flawless, almost divine beauty. ‘Look, Tara,’ they’d often laugh, ‘even the swans are longing to talk to you!’”

“Tara would turn and offer a smile, and in that instant, the sunlight would catch the bloom on her cheeks, outshining even the sunflowers by the pond.”

“Her father, Purvadasa Nagadutta, the temple’s head priest, held her in immense affection. He marveled at how so young a girl could possess such devotion. He beamed at her keen intellect, her swift mastery of scripts, and her ability to read epics from the palm leaf manuscripts. Indeed, a Vaishnavite priest from Durgavati, upon seeing her assist in reading the scriptures, was moved to declare her a very form of Saraswati.”

“At home, Tara nurtured two beloved pets: Suga, a parrot, and Manju, a gentle country cow. When she journeyed to the grasslands with Manju, Suga would flutter and perch upon her shoulder or head. Growing restless, Suga would then hop down to sit between Manju’s horns. Manju, unfazed, would continue grazing, her bell tinkling ‘kin.. kin.. kini..‘ softly.”

“With Tara’s patient teaching, Suga learned to speak her name. Whenever someone entered the house, Suga would repeat, ‘Tarra.. Tarra..,’ the sound endearing at first. But Suga, sensing the attention, would become emboldened, repeating it incessantly.”

“Manju, however, was not always a fan of Suga’s squawking. Eventually, her patience wearing thin, she would shake her head to and fro, attempting to dislodge the parrot. Undeterred, Suga would merely fly about her ears, continuing his chorus of ‘Tarra… Tarra…’”

“Tara’s beauty, wisdom, and compassion spread throughout the valley and beyond. It is no wonder that Tungabhadra knew of her when he came to the village in search of Narobha. Upon visiting the temple, he found Tara reading manuscripts with her father, Nagadutta. Tungabhadra was truly astonished by such a radiant girl within his domain.”

“During his visit, while conversing with the influential Nagadutta, their discussion turned to casual matters. Tungabhadra mentioned his habit of taking an afternoon nap after his meal. Nagadutta advised that a brief rest was fine, but a long one was not. When asked about his own afternoon routine after the temple closed, Nagadutta shared that he would go into the forest, filled with jambu trees, to meditate.”

Valli’s eyes grew sad. “Oh, my queen,” she said, “Nagadutta spoke of this casually, with pride. But he did not realize that Tungabhadra had taken careful note…” Queen Parvata Vardini turned her head sharply towards Valli, her movement like the swift turn of a snake’s hood. Valli paused, gathering her thoughts.

..

I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z

Note:

• This fiction is a retelling of a mythology.
• Images generated with ImageFx of Google Gemini.
• Awkward sentences are removed by AI for a smoother reading experience.