#lakshmanaa

[madatdisney]

Imagine having 8 gorgeous baddies who love you, you also love them, and people wanna pit baddie #1 and baddie #3 against each other...

[vishnavishivaa]

Hari- the Eternal Source

śaṃkara uvāca | trayī sāṃkhyavedāṃtayogāḥ purāṇaṃ tathā pañcarātraṃ prabho dharmaśāstram | tavaivātimāhātmyamekasya nityaṃ prakārairanekairhi gāyaṃti bhaktyā || 3 ||

tvadeveśa śāstrāṇi caitāni bhūmno babhūvustvadekāśrayāṇyādikalpe | ramāsevyapādāmbujaṃ śāstrayoniṃ tamādyaṃ bhavantaṃ bhaje vāsudevam || 4 ||

Śaṅkara said:

3. O Lord! The Three Vedas, Sāṅkhya, Vedānta, Yoga, Purāṇa, Pāñcarātra as well as Dharmaśāstra—all these devoutly sing in various ways the supreme majestic glory of yours alone.

4. In the first Kalpa (Ādi-Kalpa), it is from you, the great one, alone that these Śāstras were born and they have you as their only resort, O Sovereign Lord. I betake myself to you and worship you, the Primordial One whose lotus-feet are served by Ramā, who are the source of the origin of Śāstras.

(Taken from Wisdom Library )

This is a small portion of Chapter 15 of Vaasudeva Mahatmya from Skanda Purana. The essence of these verses is to talk of how Vishnu is every little and every big thing in this Universe.

There is a constant struggle about whether the Puranas are right or not, through things I have read, that contradict with what I have learned as a child, which clash with some beliefs even- and it is actually very true that they have been interpolated heavily, over the years.

That is why, the first basis of reference and understanding comes from Itihaasa- that which has happened. There are two Itihaasas or epics in Sanatana Dharma, Valmiki Ramayana and Mahabharata. Of course, Harivamsa is included in this list, as it is a khila of the Mahabharata itself.

It sounds a bit crazy when I speak of how Itihaasas come first and yet I posted something from a Purana, does it not? Well, the reason for it is to remind people that Shastras originated from the ParaBrahman- be they Vedas, Upanishads, Itihaasas, Puranas and various other works. And every form of ParaBrahman are the origin of such, based on how one's own Ishta/Aaradhya.

Many months ago, I had asked if I should post something on Sanatana, and finally, I got the time to start. As always, I wondered where to start, and this specific tab was open. Hari, as always, gave me an indication.

I will be much more consistent with posting henceforth, so expect interpretations, rants, aesthetics, story snippets and so on to be shared.

@thelekhikawrites @celestesinsight @krsnaradhika @kaal-naagin @krishnapriyakiduniya @nirmohi-premika @chemicalmindedlotus @whippersnappersbookworm @sakhiiii @ambidextrousarcher @willkatfanfromasia @nspwriteups @dr-scribbler @rupkatha-banerjee @theramblergirl @hinsaa-paramo-dharma @moon-880 @thegleamingmoon Please let me know you thoughts, and do let me know if the rest of you want to be added to the list. 

[theramblergal]

Been having Thoughts about Madra/Maadri and her nieces. For no reason, here they are:

Madra is described as one of the "outsider" kingdoms in Aryavarta; Karna goes so far as to call the Madraka people mlecchas (foreigners/non-Aryans). Now I know he is heavily biased and so is the text at this point in time, but it is intriguing to consider.

They have customs that are out of the norm for the other, more-central Aryan kingdoms. Like a bride price, for one. Bhishma gave Shalya a lot of wealth in exchange for Maadri's hand in marriage. Shalya describes this as an age-old custom of his kingdom, and Bhishma agrees and praises him.

But if you go to the next generation, the daughters: Vijayaa and Lakshmanaa, both of them have svayamvaras. Quite the departure from the brideprice custom.

It makes me wonder: what changed?

Did Shalya see his lost sister's headstrong nature in his nieces? Did Dyutimata (Vijayaa's father) and Brihatsena (Lakshmanaa's father) not want their daughters to be bound to someone they didn't choose themselves?

Did Lakshmanaa and Vijayaa themselves want to upraise the perception of Madra in the eyes of the other kingdoms, and thus adhered to the more common custom of a svayamvara for the sake of their people? Was there more to it than just choosing the ones they loved?

There's so many intricacies in the corners of every family tree, it's fascinating.

[blackknight-100]

A Vrishasena backstory fic, written for our very beloved writer @the-lekhika . Happy birthday to you!!

It is a bitterly cold night in the month of Magha when Supriya’s first child slips into the world, kicking and screaming. His newly hatched lungs pull in the scent of misty air and his father's perfume, and his Uncle Duryodhana says, “Strong as an army, this one. Let him be Vrishasena.”

Little Vrishasena is four years and a day old when he first sees the Imperial Palace at Hastinapura. The dome shines in the diffused morning light, and it looks to him that it is drenched in liquid gold. His father laughs when he says so and puts a large hand upon his head. “This is not even half of it, little one.”

The doors are polished wood, carved with gods and gargoyles, higher and wider than those at Anga. As his father greets Uncle Duryodhana with a smile and a hug, he spies two curly heads behind the mahogany monstrosity.

“Namaste,” he says politely, with a bow of his head like Maa taught him. “I am Vrishasena, son of Karna of Anga.”

One of them, a younger boy, smiles up at him, wide and trusting. “Lakthman,” the child says, words dragging through his lisp, and Vrishasena is in love.

It is Drona who takes over his tutoring when Vrishasena turns eight. Mother is very unhappy about it, but Father shakes his head. “Drona is the best option, unless you want him to do what I did,” he says.

Mother wrings her hands. “I mislike that man, and that he comes to court.”

Father pats her on the shoulder. “It will not be long, dearest,” he says, and Vrishasena listens carefully. He would return a grown-up warrior, and surprise everyone. The thought of it puts a smile on his face, and he is not so scared to go away alone.

Drona's aashram is noisy and big. When he gets down from the rickety cart that ferries all the students to and fro, he sees Lakshman and Lakshmanaa standing on the dirt track, clutching mud-coloured satchels to their chests. He runs up to them and gives them a hug and laughs at the shock on their faces.

“Father said there was a surprise for us!” Lakshmanaa beams at him. “You were the surprise, weren't you?”

“Maybe,” he says, although he is no less astonished. “Do you like it?”

“Yes!” the twins shriek, and Vrishasena feels warmth flood his chest.

On the third year of his schooling at Drona’s aashram, Vrishasena gets a letter from Anga. No one is allowed to send or receive letters from home, and thus any correspondence brings with it the promise of ill-news.

He takes it from the messenger with some apprehension, and the twins come to look over his shoulder.

“Dear Vrishasena,” reads his father’s slanting script, and for a moment Vrishasena – who had thought the worst – forgets to breathe.

“You have a brother!” Lakshman screams right next to his ear, with no respect whatsoever for his privacy, and Vrishasena has to flinch from the sheer volume of it.

“We read faster than you,” Lakshmanaa – who has somehow snuck into the boys’ residence – beams happily. “This is so sweet!”

Vrishasena finally manages to master his relief and reads through the rest of it. His brother is newly come to the world, born only a few weeks ago, on the last of Sravana’s rainy evenings.

“We named him Vrishaketu,” Father writes. “It only seemed meet, since you are Vrisha-sena.”

He reads those lines again, presses the letter to his heart. Behind him, he can feel the twins shifting, and then their little arms hugging him. He pulls them close, and relishes in the joy lighting up his world.

Vrishaketu joins the aashram the year Vrishasena turns nineteen – and he thinks he has never known greater delight. His brother comes the same way he had taken eleven years ago, on the same rickety cart down the same dirt track, although the horses are new. He is tall for his age, with Father’s bright face, and Mother’s compassionate smile, and Vrishasena all but runs to him.

His brother lets out a full belly laugh as he lifts him and spins him around, and then Lakshman (and Lakshmanaa – who is, at this point, the sneakiest woman in existence) are clamouring around him, and he has to kneel down so everyone can hug each other.

He does not know it then, but it would be the happiest he would be in a long time.

A year later, twenty years old and a warrior through and through, Vrishasena leaves his sobbing brother and the heartbroken twins and for the first time in more than a decade, goes home.

Anga is all decked-up for his return, and the citizens hold out their hands to him as he passes. His chariot rolls past no less than eighteen groups of men with drums around their neck, and as the capital comes closer, the air thickens with the fragrance of sweets and syrups.

It is, however, the sight of his parents waiting for him, Uncle Duryodhana and Uncle Ashwatthama flanking them, that brings tears into his eyes. He leaps off his chariot and runs the last few steps to his mother’s embrace. His father wraps his arms around them, as if he could shore them up by strength of will alone, and Vrishasena sinks into that warmth with a sigh.

Half a year later, Vrishasena meets Arjun for the first time when they visit the newly made palace at Indraprastha. No one he knows speaks well of the Pandavas, and he is… not curious, precisely, but interested.

The man in question is tall and dark, with a shock of hair tumbling from under his glittering crown. He greets them with a courteous, albeit stiff, smile, and a regal tilt of his head, and introduces Vrishasena to his son Abhimanyu.

Vrishasena quite likes Abhimanyu. The young prince is quick-witted and sharp-tongued, and for a while, he might as well have been back in Drona’s aashram. Abhimanyu takes him by the arm and shows him around the new palace, away from the clamour of visiting royalty. They sneak away to the kitchens together. His companion offers him sweets with a wink and a giggle, and it occurs to him they might now be friends.

Vrishasena would have been willing to follow Abhimanyu around all day, but they are princes still, and needed in the main hall. The kings gather there with solemn faces, seated straight-backed upon expensive chairs. Father catches his eye and frowns but says nothing.

There is an oddly tense atmosphere in the hall. The assembled Kings are silent and still, and Krishna, King of Dwarka, seems to be murmuring something placatingly to the recently crowned Pandava King. Uncle Duryodhana leaves his seat and marches up to the raised podium at the end, right up to King Yudhisthir’s nose, and starts a belligerent rant about punishments being kinder than crimes.

Vrishasena looks to Abhimanyu for clarification, but his friend is as bewildered as he is. Then Uncle Duryodhana whirls around, the edge of his fashionable shawl nearly smacking Queen Draupadi in the face, and strides away. “Come,” he orders. “We are leaving.”

The rest of his retinue gather themselves and follow him immediately. His father catches his eyes again. Abhimanyu pats his shoulder. “Go, before there is an even bigger scene.”

“Yes, I-”

Splash!

The two of them turn in horror. Uncle Duryodhana, Crown Prince of Hastinapura and arguably one of the most powerful men in Aryavart, sputters in a pool. It is so artfully crafted that Vrishasena is not sure he would not have mistaken it for the floor.

Around them, the kings are laughing, as are the Pandava brothers. Only the eldest, Yudhisthir and the Pandava Queen Draupadi hurry forward, appalled. To his horror, he sees most of Hastinapura’s retinue hovering around, unwilling to get in the water. It is his father who swims to the humiliated Prince and hauls him up, drenched clothes and all.

“Oh, Cousin!” Yudhisthir says helplessly, wringing his hands.

His wife is more sensible, as she bids a maid to bring towels. “My Lord,” she says softly, “we beg your pardon. Please do sit down. We shall-”

Uncle Duryodhana interrupts her mid-speech. “I will not stand for this,” he roars. “You play at being Emperor from a Kingdom my father gifted you, you try to steal what has ever been rightfully ours. You kill our allies upon your sacred fire, and scorn and humiliate those who have ever taken you since childhood!”

“Cousin, please,” Yudhisthir begins, but his brother, Prince Bheem interrupts with a taunting laugh. “Are you as blind as your father?” he jeers, and giggles fill the hall. The King and Queen turn with shock on their faces, but the damage is already done.

“You will regret this!” Uncle Duryodhana hollers, no longer caring about his dignity. “Wretched bastards of the forests, you will regret this!”

Red in the face and wet as a water-nymph, Uncle Duryodhana strides out. The titters quieten down to an uneasy silence. The promise of retribution hangs in the air.

Later, Vrishasena’s beloved father and uncles would reduce his cousins to paupers, would drag and disrobe their fire-born wife. There would be banishment and war and bloodshed, and the then warrior Vrishasena – bold and fleet and swift – would cut down scores and scores of people before falling to the cruelty of Arjun’s arrows – arrows of the man who had greeted them with a smile and given him a transient friendship. Vrishasena would die in pieces, not even knowing that he died by an uncle’s hand.

But that is far away. For now, Vrishasena bids Abhimanyu a hasty goodbye, and rushes after his father and uncles, worry tugging at his heart. The winds of Aryavart are ever changing, even for those yet too young to suffer for it.

[krsnaradhika]

Hey guys! So there's this book of mine on wp where I publish random os on Shri Radha and the Ashtabharyas. I was planning on the changing former aesthetics and I have finally achieved this feat—

I thought you'd like seeing them—

My Shris 🛐🛐

[kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera]

Growing up is realising Lakshman was the smart one.

[avani008]

Three things she/he wanted to tell her/his parent and one thing her/his parent never told her/him (or vice versa)— Samba and Lakshmanaa?

1. That it is a tiring thing, being caught up in a greater tragedy, so that you are overlooked by all, an insect caught in amber that only mars the beauty all about. 

2. That as much as you love your brother(s)--and you do, you do, of course you do--you can never quite forget that they are the ones who matter most, while you come only second. 

3. That desperation drives you to do terrible things, and if it wins you only ill repute, then so be it. 

&1. That love is not something you can demand or deserve, nor something that drains you whole (but oh, these children, they never listen). 

[blackknight-100]

Can you write something with Vrishasena and Arjuna? Arjuna would have been such a good uncle and all of them would have been such a cute family.

Hello there anon! You're right on time, I wrote this in the return train ride lol.

About Arjuna being an uncle to Vrishsena, I'm not sure if you're asking for a canon-divergence? Let me know if you have a specific scenario in mind. But, for now, here is a canonical one:

3 times Vrishasena found his Uncle, +1 time it was otherwise.

1.

Indraprashtha's Palace of Illusions is larger than the one in Anga, and infinitely more complicated than the one in Hastinapura. Vrishasena is, simply put, quite lost. His father's is in Uncle Duryodhana's retinue and far too busy smoothening the Prince's ruffled feathers to pay him any mind. The other Kings are not people he has been introduced to, and he's pretty sure approaching them for such a trifle would start a war. That left the Pandavas.

Vrishasena stops at the huge double-doors leading to the garden. Made of mahogany wood, they are twice as broad as he is tall, and eight times as high. He studies the carvings on them while he contemplates his options. Yudhisthir he refuses to ask for help - the Emperor-to-be referenced etiquette and scriptures eleven times in the six minutes he has known the man. Crown Prince Bheem is out of question, for obvious reasons. The twins are a good choice, but he doesn't know where they are. That leaves Prince Arjun, who is strolling in the garden with the King of Dwarka.

Vrishasena gives the guards a dubious look, then makes his way towards his target. Krishna notices him at once, and a beatific smile brightens up his face. He spreads his arms wide and turns towards Arjun. "Look, my friend. The Prince of Anga is here."

Arjun notices him and offers him a polite tilt of his head. "Namaste. How may I help you today?"

Vrishasena bows. "Namaste, I was looking for Prince Abhimanyu."

Arjun's face goes from courteously disinterested to downright suspicious in less than a second. "Why?" he asks, far too curtly in Vrishasena's estimation.

Krishna throws back his head and laughs. "These are two young boys in a bunch of nagging kings engaged in politics. What did you think would happen, Parth?"

Arjun flushes. Vrishasena hurries him along. "We're acquainted, Prince. He was gracious enough to offer to show me around."

"Oh," Arjun mumbles. "Try out the kitchens, he's always trying to charm an extra sweet out of the cook."

Vrishasena bows again. "I thank you. Have a good day."

He is quietly backing away when he hears Arjun's stiff reply. "You too. I hope you like Indraprashtha enough to visit again."

2.

Hastinapura's Palace is a veritable playground for his brothers and the Kaurava children. Vrishasena, as the eldest of them all, has been saddled with the unenviable responsibility of minding them today. This, naturally, involves a great deal of screaming and shouting on his part, and a much greater indifference on the part of the children.

"Do not run in the corridors!" he yells after Lakshmanaa, who gathers up her skirts and runs faster. "They have been wiped. You're going to slip! Lakshmanaa!"

Lakshmanaa lets out a shrill shriek as he comes dangerously close to snatching her hand and turns around the corner. Vrishasena's only warning is a muffled "oof!" before he skids around the corner himself, and barrels straight into someone.

They collapse in a heap - him dazed, Lakshmanaa laughing and the man grunting out in pain.

"Oi, you!" says a feminine voice. Vrishasena looks up. A beautiful woman looms over them, dusky face cut through with a bright, toothy smile, eyes sparkling like diamonds. "Please free my husband," she requests, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Warrior though he may be, I fear he will not live long like this."

"Empress Draupadi," he manages, then scrambles over to see which of Kunti's scions he has had the misfortune of knocking over. Of course, because the universe hates him, it is his father's mortal enemy.

"Prince Arjun," he greets, somewhat stupidly, then drags a still-giggling Lakshmanaa off him. "Are you hurt?"

Arjun rubs his forehead. "Apart from my pride? No, I don't think so."

"We're sorry," Lakshmanaa offers, not sounding apologetic at all. "Brother Vrishasena is having a hard day."

"I wasn't the one who knocked him over," he protests, half tempted to wring his hands in frustration.

"You did fall over, though," Draupadi points out, then starts laughing again.

"Where are you going?" Lakshmanaa asks, not even portending to be subtle about changing the subject.

"Your father invited us to a Dyut Sabha," Prince Arjun says, just eager to move on. Humiliation is not a good look on him.

"I hope you enjoy your game," Vrishasena offers, then bows. "Come, Lakshmanaa, let's go."

"Listen, Vrishasena," Arjun calls after them. Vrishsena waves the little Princess away. "Don't tell Angaraaj this happened."

"Lakshmanaa will tell Unc- er- Prince Duryodhana."

Arjun sighs. "Duryodhana has seen lots of embarrassing situations first hand. One more is no gain for him."

"Okay," Vrishasena shrugs. "I won't lie to him if he asks, but I won't tell him on my own either."

Draupadi gives them both a bemused look, but Arjuna nods. "Thank you. That is all I ask."

3.

It has been many years since Vrishasena saw Arjun. The Pandava Prince looks different now. His gaunt face is shielded by a scraggly beard, his hair is tangled and haggard. The finery he once bore with ease now hangs loose from his lean frame. The war and Abhimanyu's death have worn him down, perhaps more than it has worn down Vrishasena.

It is not easy to keep pace with Arjun - fabled archer that he is. But Vrishasena is Karna's son, blessed thrice by love of his parents, of the Kuru clan, and the love of his people. Ten times he pierces Kunti's youngest child, ten times more he goes after Dwarka's King. He fights even as his father and the Kauravas draw close, and Arjun taunts them with the inevitability of his demise.

The sight of him makes Vrishasena stop heckling Bheem. His charioteer tries to steer them after Bheem, but Krishna cuts through their path and draws up in front of them. In the distance, he sees the white conch of his father's flag flutter ever closer. Arjun lifts up his bow in challenge, and Vrishasena thinks quietly to himself, Death has come for me.

He does not have the breath to speak, but he thinks of his father and pleads fervently, Let me fight, let me go, and Karna, whether he hears it or not, stays away. Arjun's arrows take off his arms one after the other, and then take off his head. Vrishasena does not have the time to feel anything but relief.

+1.

Sometimes, Arjun thinks, it is better to be ignorant and live in bliss.

Yudhisthir sits slumped on the ground, head buried in his hands. Draupadi is quiet, eyes turned heavenwards in a blank stare. His other brothers are gathered around, gaping at their mother. Even Krishna is silent and still.

"I want to go home," Sahadev says suddenly, sounding like the little boy he was all those years ago when they made their laborious way from Shatashringa to Hastinapura. The words make Arjun's heart ache.

"We will be going home right after," Kunti soothes, placing a hand on his arm. He had ever been her favourite child.

Now, Sahadeva throws off her hand and turns away. "No!" he shouts, choking on a sob. "I will not go to that graveyard. I want to go home!"

Yudhisthir lets out a strange sound, somewhere between a hiccup and a cough. Arjun looks towards the burning pyres. Karna he cannot mourn - their history is longer than Vishnu's endless serpent and deeper than the waters of the ocean. But he thinks of Vrishasena, Karna's son and his nephew, sprawled on the ground - without arms or a head, and his stomach turns. He thinks of Karna killing Abhimanyu and can feel nothing but rage. He thinks of Vrishasena coming after Nakul, and feels his heart leaden with sorrow.

Somewhere among the burning pyres Vrishasena's body smoulders. Arjun dares not go search for him.

"I'm sorry," he tells the bitter winter air. He watches the words mist in front of his face, watches the mist float heavenwards, mingling with the smoke from the pyres. He thinks of himself weeping over Abhimanyu's mangled remains, thinks of Karna stoically arranging Vrishasena's severed parts for his last rites. He thinks of devoted friends and silent mothers and cursed thrones, and apologizes no more.