Satataharitam - Short Stories On Narayana

Vichitrasvapnam

As far as the eye could see, all that was visible was red. Strewn across the vast expanse of blood-drenched soil were innumerable corpses of valiant warriors and carcasses of equally skilled horses and elephants.

Women and children ran around the place in a desperate attempt to find the ones they loved. Hundreds of tear bathed faces flashed before him as he watched miserable sight.

Dark clouds gathered in the sky, thunder roaring ominously. There was not a hint of light around. Even the sun seemed so shaken by the horrific remains the massive war had left behind, that it chose to hide behind the enormous clouds.

An elderly woman dressed in finery was seen in the distance as menacing words rang in his ears. It was loudly feeble, dangerous but broken. "All of your clan will come to an end on one day, leaving you with no descendants just like this war has left us all. My children all fought with each other and killed each other in a war you encouraged, isn't it? Your family will fight each other, kill one another. You will see this happen before your eyes, and you will see everything around you come crashing down like I have!"

×××

Rama's eyes were red and weary that morning, but what was more evident was the obvious worry and confusion in them.

"Bhaiya!" Bharata ran to him as the elder walked towards the court, lost in thought. He slung his arm around his brother, and it was only then that Rama responded, evidently confused and dazed. Bharata frowned and tilted his head. "Something wrong?"

Rama thought about it for a moment, considering telling his brother, but decided against it. He'd eventually get over it, wouldn't he? "No, nothing. Let's hurry. Pa will be waiting in the sabha."

Bharata nodded, but was sure that something was wrong. He needed to know what it was.

×××

A peacock feather.

Rama opened his eyes, sighing in defeat. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the dream he had had. The nightmare. Why did he have a peacock feather on his head?

He closed his eyes another time, trying to pray to the shivalinga before him like he did every day.

The man was dressed in yellow, embroidered intricately with grand mirror work on the angavastra.

Rama's eyes snapped open. Mirror work. That wasn't common in Kosala. He hadn't seen anyone wear that in his region. He, personally, got clothing with heavy gold embroidery on it. That's how finery in their region looked. The style of embroidery with mirror work was so different, and so much more colourful. It was nothing like anything he had seen before.

Besides, his crown looked so different. He didn't have that little Surya that Rama's crown would usually have.

"Ram?" Sita called out to him, noticing his stressed expressions. "Everything alright?"

Rama shut his eyes and shook his head for a moment, though in vain, trying to get those thoughts out of his head. "Where do you get fancy mirror work and colourful embroidery in clothing, Sitey? Which kingdom?"

Sita looked at him, amused. "Central-Western parts of the mainland. Why do you ask though? Do you plan on becoming a designer?"