Headcanon Meme Fills- Mahendra
There are very few things that make Mahendra angry. In fact, he can count on one hand, the number of times he has felt anger.
The first time he had gotten angry, was when he was four. His mother wouldn’t let him accompany the other boys for a fishing trip. “You are still too young,” she had said even though he had been bigger and taller than the other kids. They had made fun of him for days afterwards.
The second time, he had been angry with his first ever girlfriend, Tarika. He had been 9. She had been 8. She had promised to go with him for the annual village fair. He had even been collecting shells for both of them to trade with the shopkeepers and the other kids. His final count had been 36 shells, enough for six pieces of sweets, two toy animals, and perhaps a game of marbles where if they won, they would get to take home the precious blue marble that Kanandan owned. But ultimately, she had ditched him and gone to the fair with Suguma because he had collected 40 shells. It served her right that he spent all of it on the marble tournament and still didn’t win the prized blue beauty.
The third time, he had gotten angry as a man; on seeing the ill-disguised amusement of their resident sage whose name no one knew. Everyone called him Baba but to him, he had always come across as a bit of a charlatan. However, Sivudu had never paid too much mind to it until he gave that mad advice to his mother to bathe the Sivalingam 116 times. How crazy could he be? Thankfully, this time as well, Sivudu, had had the last laugh.
The fourth time, he had gotten angry on seeing Avanthika struggling with those four brutish soldiers in the snow. One of them had had his dagger at her throat. And that had, quite literally, pressed all his buttons. He had seen red and like death personified, he had killed them all. How dare they touch a woman like that? And how DARE they touch HIS beloved at all?
The fifth time was now. But he had no way of characterizing the lava bubbling under his skin, threatening to burst out and consume everything that Bhallaladeva held dear. His true mother’s cut and bruised face made something scream inside him in raw anguish. But it was the unfinished tale of his father’s short life that made him thirst for blood.
Oh, now he knew anger. The other times had simply been a preview of the fire that lived within him, waiting for his command to burn, to destroy, and to cleanse...
2. 17- Soft Spot Headcanon
Everyone knows about the two sides of the new king; the happy-go-lucky Sivudu and the young-but-trying-to-fill-his-father’s-shoes Mahendra. It is not an easy balancing act and sometimes, it takes a toll on him.
But he does not complain. He recognizes how blessed and fortunate he is to have found his true family. He often spends hours talking to his mother, quizzing her for every detail about her life before her captivity. He also asks her about his father, but sadly, she does not know enough to satisfy his curiosity. Their time together had been too limited and too turbulent for her to have gleaned more from him about his early life.
And that is why Mahendra tries yet again to seek out Katappa, who has so far been completely elusive… or as elusive as a slave could be.
Of course, Mahendra can make it a direct order but he does not want to. Slavery is immoral and disgusting. Besides, his parents gave Katappa the honor of being his godfather. There is no way he will desecrate that sentiment by reminding Katappa of his legal status. Moreover, he has been told that had his father ascended the throne, abolishing slavery, including the kind sanctioned by sacred ancestral oaths, would have been his first priority.
Exasperated, Mahendra realizes that he will have to resort to his unconventional ways to get what he wants. And one afternoon, after the swordplay drill, he waits for Katappa under the Banyan tree where the soldiers take their meal.
Katappa sees him and tries to scuttle away unseen but suddenly, he stops in his tracks....
That word. That voice. His ears have longed to hear it. He turns around but he knows he won’t see Amarendra.
“Yes, My Lord,” he answers, trying to keep his emotions in check.
“Come, let us eat together,” Mahendra says. “Please don’t avoid me like this. Did I do something to upset you? I... I know I remind you of my father. I’m sorry if it is too painful for you to look at me but...”
Katappa does not let him complete that sentence.
“Please, say no more,” he begs. “It is indeed painful to remember each day that Amarendra Baahubali is no more. But it is blessing to know that you are here, that you, the child of his heart, are alive and amongst us. Do not, for a moment think, that I am avoiding you because I cannot bear to look at you. Sometimes, looking at you is the only thing that allows me to sleep at night.”
“Then why do you never talk to me.”
“I killed your father. I took everything from you. It is because of me that you grew up so far from your heritage and all that should have been rightfully yours since birth.”
“Mama,” Mahendra said gently. “There is no use crying over spilt milk. Yes, you feel guilty. But why punish me because of it? No one in this palace knows more about my father than you. Everyone tells me of his goodness, his greatness, and how he was a God to the people. But you... Mama, you knew him as a boy, as a man, as a person. Do I not deserve to know my father as he was?”
Katappa had no answer for that. Mahendra had found his soft spot and he could not say no to the boy any more than he could have to Amarendra.
What he did not realize was that this would also help the boy find his own place in Mahishmati’s story... a place where he would be a person unto himself; not just a legend or an answer to millions of prayers.
