Satataharitam - Short Stories On Narayana

As usual, no clue what to name it

Dasharatha sat in a chair next to Kaushalya's bed, his baby, his firstborn in his hands. He was trembling from the whole experience.

He was holding their child in his hands, and he was crying so loudly, like most newborns did, and Dasharatha was left overwhelmed. So much life brimming in such a small form. This little baby was so perfect.

Despite the feeling of overwhelm, he couldn't think of anything but the fact that his child seemed to be the personification of perfection. Those eyes, even as he cried, looked more ethereal than anything the King had ever seen.

He sat and stared at the child in his large, warm hands as he quietened by himself. It was as if he had read that his father was in no state to move. Like he knew he'd cast a spell on his father.

Dasharatha could only feel a few things at that moment. The child's presence in his hands, and his own heartbeat and tears.

Kaushalya looked over at them, and smiled, herself in quite a trance too.

"I'm surprised you're not wailing louder than the newborn." she said, chuckling at her husband's thousand emotions.

Dasharatha looked at her and tried to say something. But he was only choking on his words and couldn't say a thing. All he knew was he truly was just a moment away from wailing louder than the newborn had been, if he were to put it that dramatically.

She reached out to stroke his hand and their son's head, smiling through her tears. Dasharatha couldn't help but kiss his personal Little Moon on the cheek.

That little form of Narayana seemed to smile at all the love.

×××

Four year old Rama held his new bow in hand as his father carefully fastened the quiver's attached buckles around his little torso. He was going to have an official lesson with his father for the first time and they were both equally excited about it.

Dasharatha couldn't think of anything that gave him as much joy as his children under any circumstance, and this little Ramachandra was especially proficient at melting his heart with no efforts whatsoever.

He didn't understand where this little baby got so much divinity from. He'd asked Narayana multiple times during his daily prayers, he'd asked Maheshwara too. He hadn't got any responses and it was unfortunate that he hadn't.

Little Rama picked an arrow out of his quiver and placed it on his bow. There was a little bit of a struggle trying to hold the arrow and bowstring together but of course it was nothing to put down Rama. After he'd figured it out by himself, he pulled the arrow and the bowstring as far back as he could and then he released it. The arrow went flying to a distance and though it didn't hit the bullseye or anything at all, the little boy had dissolved in happy giggles.

The toddler couldn't stop giggling with those little skips in his steps. He had shot an arrow, just like his Pa! He felt joy in a way he never had until then, and giggles resembling jingling anklet bells was his way of expressing that joy.

Dasharatha was laughing too, unable to escape the contagious laughter of his darling son. "You shot an arrow on your own!" he said, kneeling down and scooping the child up in his arms. "How did you do it, my love?" The joy in his voice was absolutely unconcealed.

Rama just giggled even more and snuggled into his father's chest. "I love bow arrow!" he declared.

Dasharatha wasn't new to tearing up at random statements his child made because he simply couldn't come to terms with the fact that this absolute magician of a child was his own. "And I love you." Dasharatha whispered to his child, hopelessly losing all his senses because of how adorable he just was.