#dasharatha

[livingtheparadoxlife]

Veera

Sumitra screamed in pain, strands of her hair plastered to her face, her nails digging into the nearest medic's hand.

Did she hurt the medics? The queen of King Dasharath would have been horrified at her own actions, the Sumitra in labour couldn't care less.

Pain had dulled her senses, morphing her gentle self into something else entirely.

It wasn't long before the queen had not even the energy to scream, reduced to a state of near hyperventilation. She sucked in air in huge gasps, panting, her eyes clutched tight to avoid the macabre sight that was her own body.

Pain pervaded through her entire being, snapping her bones and sending her into a strange slumber, till she could no longer feel a thing. But she could still hear the familiar sounds of the Sarayu, thumping and flowing through Ayodhya's heart.

𝘈 𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱.

But her mind, perhaps sensing the danger of giving in, took her back to her home, to her Kashi. To her mother's rosaries, to her father's crown, to her brothers' weapons, to the world she had known and loved before stepping foot in Koshala.

It took her back to the sound of Maa Ganga's flow, so much like the Sarayu's and yet so different in its stark vitality.

It took her back to the magnificent temple at Kashi where she'd prayed ever since she was a little girl, where she'd spent countless nights chanting and pouring milk down the Shivalingam in hopes of securing a husband like Anagha.

Her prayers had been answered, in the form of the kind, strong, yet gentle king of Koshala.

𝘚𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘶..... 𝘎𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢.... 𝘒𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪..... 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘢..... 𝘒𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘢.... 𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩.....

𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘷, 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯.

"Queen, please," the ayurvati murmured. "Don't fall asleep. It's almost over."

"Almost over, you say?" She tiredly whispered, her head almost lolling back, long tresses flowing wildly down the bed.

She closed her eyes, breathed, and sat up, using every last ounce of her strength before falling back on the bed, back into the powerless stupor, hoping it was over.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵.

The pain didn't quite recede and she had almost given up, until the ayurvati squealed in delight, right before Sumitra heard a scream that would've scared her to her bones if she had been completely conscious.

𝘈 𝘤𝘳𝘺, 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘺.

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘺.

She turned her head around, only to find the ayurvati's joyous expressions melting into one of concern.

"My lady," she gulped, looking into Sumitra's eyes, "Please. Just a few more moments."

Had she been asked to repeat the ordeal a few minutes ago, Sumitra would've shook her head and resigned herself to death.

But her child's cry had given her new vitality. It had breathed new life into her body.

It had made her want to live.

Every bone in her body still hurt, but now, she could scarcely feel it over the need of saving herself and the child who still had to see the light of the day.

Gathering all her courage, she lifted her body up again, grabbing onto the nearest bed post for support.

Pain, hot, burning, searing pain flared in her body, traveling upwards through her spine, and she screamed loud enough to all but drown out the cry of her younger child, so much softer than the first had been, but a cry, nonetheless.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘵.

Relief washed over her in waves, cooling her flushed face and her burning eyes, returning her famed grace back to her.

It was over, finally over. She could rest now, slip into the welcoming abyss that would take her to the land of oblivion again, lined with the sweet dreams of her memories.

The princess of Kashi let her drooping eyelids meet.

@jeahreading @hum-suffer @zeherili-ankhein @theramblergal @yaebafinalboss @starryy-berryy @ramayantika

[sambhavami]

Women in Mahabharata - Seeta (Ramopakhyana)

She is a daughter of the King Janaka of Videha, married to the elder prince Rama of Ayodhya. "Yam chakaara swayam Tvashta Raama-sya mahishim priyaam" [Hence, Tvashta [Vishwakarma] built [her] to be Rama's favourite wife].

She follows her husband when he is exiled to the forest. There her husband gets involved in a conflict with the local rakshasa community headed by Khara, Dooshana and Shoorpanakha.

Humiliated by Rama, when her nose and lips are cut off, Shoorpanakha encourages her older brother Raavana to seek revenge.

Raavana decides to use his minister Maareecha to lure Rama away from his house, and use that opportunity to kidnap Seeta. He assumes Rama will end himself out of the grief of losing his wife.

When Rama is thus lured away from their house on Godavari, Seeta, hearing fake calls of help in Raama's voice, accuses Lakshmana of staying back only to have an opportunity to be with Seeta in his brother's absence.

Ravana, in this time, approaches Seeta and tries to convince her to leave Rama for him. Seeta angrily rebukes him saying, "Katham hi peetva maaddhvi-kam peetva cha madhumaadhaveem?" [Tell me, that once I have drunk the wine made out of madhavi flowers, can I drink the liquour of rice?]

Ravana then angrily seized her by the hair and started amking his way back towards his kingdom, known as Lanka. Seeta sobbed for relief, but even the King Dasharatha's [her father-in-law] friend Jatayu couldn't save her.

Then, as Raavana flew above, Seeta, threw her jewellery aiming for every ashram, lake and river enroute so as to mark her route. Finally, seeing a group of five vanara men atop a hill, she smartly threw down her yellow vaasa.

Undeterred, Raavana still takes Seeta to Lanka, and keeps her in a mansion near his Ashoka garden. Seeta ties up her hair in a half-jata, and like that of a woman performing penace survives off of fruits she is given.

Here, a rakshasi woman named Trijata befriends and consoles her. She also introduces Seeta to Avindhya, who is sympathetic to her cause, and therefore informs her of both Rama's friendship with Sugreeva and of Raavana's curse by his [sort-of] daughter-in-law Rambha that he will be unable to touch an unwilling woman.

Raavana's next attempt to convince Seeta to marry him includes eulogies to Kubera and his own likeness to his brother. It is not successful [namedropping, honestly!].

Seeta is then, after some time, delighted to meet Hanuman, who she had heard of from Avindhya, and gives him a gem with the identifying message that she had seen Rama kill a crow with an ishika-astra [weapon resembling a blade of grass] on the Chitrakoota hill.

After Rama finally manages to kill Raavana, Vibheeshana [Raavana's younger brother] returns Seeta to him. Now, Rama disowns her with extremely harsh words on account of her unwilling stay in Raavana's house and directs her to go wherever she likes.

Seeta is deeply insulted. She fumes as she proclaims her loyalty to Rama, by swearing in the name of the pancha-bhootas: Agni, Apah, Aakasha, Prithvi and Vaayu.

Hearing this, magically, Vayu, Agni, Varuna and Brahma also swear by her loyalty.

The ghost of Dasharatha too appears, swears on behalf of his daughter-in-law and commands Rama to now return to Ayodhya and assume control of the administration as was intended for him.

Thereupon, Rama rewards Trijata and Avindhya, while Seeta blesses Hanuman for their support to both of them through this ordeal. After this the couple return to Ayodhya, take back the kingdom from a still atoning Bharata and Rama performs the dasha-ashvamedha yajna.

[herawell]

Kaikeyi explaining to Dasharatha why she is asking for Bharata's kingship and Rama's exile // Sita explaining to Ravana why she will not give in and become his wife

[arjuna-vallabha]

Maharaja Dasharatha and little Rama

[hindumythologyevent]

Hey guys, Rukmini and Sita, Sita and Draupadi, Draupadi and Rukmini, Uttara and Sulochana/Pramila, Abhimanyu and Indrajit, Krishna and Shakuni, Bhisma and Dasharatha, Kunti and Kaikeyi. Can someone do a story where these characters exchange places? I've always wondered the what if.

Also posting this here. I (Mod Ally) might do one/some of these!

[avani008]

5 HCs AU: Dasharatha tells his wives about his mistake with Shravan Kumar and the curse early on (as in before their sons are born), and how that changes anything.

(Tweaking a bit, but unfortunately I don’t think it would change much--though I do agree that the effects of SK is more about Dasharatha’s internalized guilt than....even the actual tragedy, horrible as it is.)

1.  “He should have known,” Kaikeyi says, tossing her lovely head, “to avoid a forest when kings were at their leisure. He has no one to blame but himself.”

She does not lie, his Kaikeyi, to soothe him; she would not do so for anyone, not even herself. But the balm he seeks is not to be found in her arms, pleasing as they are, and he leaves her asleep in their bed before the sun rises. 

2. “He was very young,” Kaushalya tells him, and no more; and in that phrase, he can read a thousand grim political realities. She remembers how it was in those days before the unification of Kosala--she would have urged him to worse deeds, if it were in the greater good. 

The gods may bless her for it, but they turn away from him. 

3. “Everyone forgives with time,” promises Sumitra, “even parents so bereaved. Their curse must have been retracted before you were a dozen steps away.”

And what, he thinks, does she know of sacrifice and sadness, this sweet youngest bride? He squeezes her hand in thanks, and smiles so she does not see the doubt in his eyes.

4. His daughter-in-law says nothing, and he is grateful. He knows enough of Janaka’s wise, peace-loving court to guess that hunting for sport was itself dissuaded during her childhood, that mistakes like his must have been the subject of a thousand cautionary tales about the carelessness of outsiders, and it is testament to her kindness that Sita never holds him accountable for it. 

5. “Impossible to restore life, once it is taken away,” judges his eldest son, his Rama, and every word is an arrow into his soul not unlike those he shot so long ago; “but no less can I revive those I’ve killed.” He places his head on Dasharatha’s shoulder like a child as he continues, “You’ve carried that body and those bonds with you long enough, Father. Let them go now.”

“I will,” Dasharatha promises. “Someday I will.”

[livingtheparadoxlife]

Raudra

Bharat had never felt suffocated before in his mother's chambers. It was his solace from the world outside, where the sun lit up just the right spots and whose threshold melancholy did not dare cross.

It was where he was almost always sure to find his father when he was not holding court or was otherwise occupied, talking with his mother or simply sitting beside her.

But the windows were closed now, the curtains drawn, and his father was nowhere in sight.

Instead, his mother sat in a corner, almost curled into herself. Bharat could not make out her face clearly, not at this distance, but his heart hammered in his chest for reasons unknown.

"Maa," he called out to her. "Where is my father?"

He could understand the man not being here, things could come up. But what about the things he had kept in the room for his use, scattered around because he spent so much time here?

Where were those?

His mother slowly walked to him, and then, as if he had not said a word, asked, "How is Kekeya? How are your grandfather and uncle?"

Bharat blinked in surprise. Had she not heard him? Did she not want to answer? Had they quarelled?

But his mother had asked him a question and he didn't want to be disrespectful by ignoring her.

"Kekaya was beautiful," he answered honestly. "Grandfather and Uncle are well enough. Uncle taught me a lot of things about war and governance."

She nodded in approval. "Good. You will need it now."

What?

"I don't understand," he muttered. The thumping in his chest was growing worse by the second. "Tell me, where is my father?"

A glimpse of something he couldn't quite place crossed her features for a second, and then it was gone like a trick of the light.

"My son, know that unfortunate things happen to all, such is life. We must accept them and work towards the future instead of dwelling in the past."

"Maa," he pleaded, "Don't speak in riddles. You're scaring me. Tell me what happened, please."

"Your father passed away before you came here. He died with Ram's name on his lips."

Agony burst in his being, and a splitting ache made him double down tearfully in pain, dragging him in and out of his consciousness.

No no no. Not his father. Not when he was so far away.

"Where is my brother?" He asked, still crumbled up on the floor, begging for the one refuge he still had.

His brother would make it all right. His brother would tell him it was all a mere misunderstanding, and that their father was alive and well and ready to welcome him home.

His mother sat near him but looked away, "He is not here, Bharat. Your father exiled him."

No. It could not be. Why would his father exile his saintly brother?

"What crime could he even have committed?"

"No crime, Bharat," she said, even as she threaded her fingers through his hair. "Your brother is too good to commit a crime."

"Then why?" He screamed without thought, and for years after, he would wish he had never asked her that. "Why is my brother away? How did my father die?"

"I asked him to grant me the boons he had promised me so long ago," her lips parted in a thin smile as she spoke, and without meaning to, his gaze was drawn to the stub that remained of her thumb. "It hurt him too much to grant them."

He couldn't have heard that right. He must have misunderstood something. How could his mother's wishes hurt his father, when his own dearest wish was to grant all of hers?

"What.... What did you ask of him?"

"Two wishes," she said simply. "I asked him to exile Ram, and make you his heir. Ram left, and Sita and Lakshman went with him."

Exile... Ram... Heir

His brain refused to keep up.

"Maa," Bharat whispered softly, "do not jest. I am scared. Tell me what happened, Maa. Please."

His mother held his face gently in her hands, and the love in her eyes wounded him more than all the arrows that had ever pierced his skin could.

"I told you," she said. "I did it for you."

Bharat would forever remember that moment as when he had been orphaned. His mother must have died with his father, and some hellish creature impersonated her, for her to utter those words as he did. The woman who had let her thumb get crushed in the chariot wheel to save her husband's life, could not have asked him to exile the son he loved more than life itself. And the mother who had fed her brother before him, who had taught him to forever walk in his brother's footsteps would not have taken his birthright to give to Bharat.

No, his mother was gone, and whatever had taken over her body had taken his father too.

Or perhaps she had always been that way, and he had loved her too much to notice.

The bubbling specks of anger in his chest finally boiled over, spilling out of him as white- hot rage.

He threw himself as far from her as he could.

"You wretched woman," he cried, "You did this! You gave my father so much grief that he died! You sent my brothers away to the forest! Because of your greed, my sister- in- law has to live bereft of the luxuries that are her due."

"Bharat!" She reached out to him, hands outstretched as tears marked her face with every word he spoke. "Is that how you speak to your mother?"

The pain in his mother's voice would have hurt him once, and he would have run to apologise.

But this was not the mother he had loved and revered. This was the woman that had taken all his shelters from him, and left him to wither through the storm alone.

"You are not mother of mine! You have destroyed my dynasty, you have taken my father, you've taken my brothers. What else do you want?"

"I only did it for you."

His father would have stopped him then and there. His brother would have chided him for speaking to their mother so.

But they were not here to stop him. And Bharat had never experienced such rage before. It flowed out of him without a check, a dam that had been let go for the first time.

"I never wanted it!" Bharat snarled. "I don't want what belongs to my brother by right. I will not usurp the man who has done nothing but loved me all his life."

She only stared at him, resolved and unrepentant. "You say that now. But what would happen when he became the king? I would not stand as he made you a slave. I did what I had to."

He let out a choked laugh.

"Slave? Had you asked him, he would have given you the kingdom for me on a platter. And had you asked me, you would have known I would kill myself a hundred times over if you took the kingdom from him to give to me. "

The wrath would not melt from his bones, nor would his relentless tear bring him any relief. The senseless ire threatened to swallow him whole, burn through his skin and bones till the inferno had consumed her too, when he spoke.

"Cursed be your tongue that dared demand those boons! And cursed may I be, born from your womb!"

He left the queen on the floor, drowning out her entreaties for him to stay.

@jeahreading @hum-suffer @zeherili-ankhein @yaebafinalboss @theramblergal @friend-shaped-but

[sambhavami]

Women in Mahabharata - Kaikeyi (Ramopakhyana)

When Yudhishthira asks Markandeya if there is in fact anyone as much of an ‘alpa-bhaagya-tar-o narah’ [man with less fortune] in history as him. Markandeya immediately responds with a brief summary of the poor Rama.

She is a queen of the Ikshvaku dynasty that ruled for a time in Ayodhya, and a wife of Aja’s son the King Dasharatha.

She is invoked to inform the reader of Rama's brother Bharata’s birth and parentage: Raama-sya maata Kaushalya, Kaikeyi Bharata-sya tu suto Lakshmana-Shatrughna-o Sumitra-yah parantapoh [Rama’s mother is Kaushalya, Kekaya's princess Kaikeyi mothered Bharata, and the twins called Lakshmana and Shatrughna were Sumitra’s].

When King Dasharatha attempts to crown his eldest son Rama, Kaikeyi, prodded on by her friend and ex-apsara Manthara, demands that Rama be sent to the forest, and the kingdom be handed over to her son Bharata. She uses two previously promised boons to force her husband into this.

When Dasharatha then dies of a broken heart, she calls Bharata back from Nandigrama and attempts to crown him. Bharata however rejects her plan, and instead sends her along with her co-wives [himself following behind] to unsuccessfully convince his older brother to return.

Bharata goes to Nandigrama from their with his brother's shoes to rule on its behalf.