⭐️Winner ⭐️
Vasanta Vrittanta OS Contest
Whispers of Spring
gurl-enchanted
It was a cold night, resplendent in the light of the moon and countless twinkling stars. A woman stood in the balcony gazing at the sky wistfully. She was decked in royal finery, the golden threads in her flame red lehenga shimmering in the moonlight; her odhni trailed carelessly behind her.
She breathed in the scent of luscious roses from the palatial garden. A nightingale sang hauntingly in the distance. Spring would be here soon. The cold fingers of winter were retreating, she could feel it in her bones. The woman wore no jewels, except for her precious silver anklet – a gift from her mother two winters ago.
Her birthdays were grand celebrations in Kishangarh, bringing people from all over India to the kingdom. Even Gods had been known to visit, curious about the enchanting woman that had the heart of one of their own. When she had been borne, a sage had taken one look in sleepy amber eyes and declared her a goddess reincarnate. Her destiny had been branded on her like her given name.
Mohana.
It was a destiny she refused to accept in this lifetime.
Princess Mohana looked like a painter’s dream, a poet’s muse this blessed night. Her form was lithe, movements graceful as she twirled, long dark hair swaying in the wind. She loved nights like these, quiet with a promise of something more. Her heart brimmed with inexplicable joy.
She halted mid-twirl, as the lilting tune of a flute reached her ears. Her eyes widened in recognition. No, it couldn’t be. The tune became louder, playing on her senses like an intoxicating drug. She backed away, her heart thudding painfully. The flute called to her, urging her to come. Eager feet rushed her downstairs, past startled servants.
Mohana broke into the palace gardens, her chest heaving. Her doe like eyes searched the darkness, looking for one who enticed and terrified her at the same time. The music brought her closer to the Kadamba tree; stopping when her gaze landed on a figure leaning against the trunk, his back towards her. Dark curling locks of hair teased the nape of his neck, the shadow of a peacock feather swaying in the breeze.
She waited with bated breath as he lowered the instrument.
“Mohana…” The whisper of her name on his tongue sent shivers down her spine. “Were you waiting long for me?”
His question sparked her ire. Stepping closer, she glared at his back, the skin almost blue under the moonlight. “I think I waited forever, my Lord. And you never came.”
“I am here now.” He turned towards her, the perfection of his features stunning her momentarily. A boyish smile on his lips, he fixed magnetic eyes on her. “Will you not forgive me, Radha?”
She gasped, stepping back in affront. “That is not my name! That will never be my name again.”
Undeterred, he walked towards her leisurely. “Call yourself whatever you wish. You will always be mine.” He caught her wrist as she turned away; his touch a burn, a longing, a deep hurt in her soul.
She swiveled towards him, a sharp retort dying on her lips at his chuckle. He tugged her closer, the energy of the whole universe radiating from him. “I have come for you tonight. Won’t you forgive me, Mohana?”
His eyes were black holes and the sun and the galaxies, and if she looked into them anymore, she would be lost. Tugging her wrist free, she nursed it against her chest. He had marked her again. He should never have touched her. “No,” she told him, looking away. “Never will I forgive you, Kanha.”
“What is the meaning of ‘never’ in infinity, my sweet?” His hand caught her chin, forcing her to look into his enigmatic eyes. “You and I…We are one and the same. Just like your name is a part of my essence, Mohana, so is your soul woven from mine.”
“I refuse to let you be my destiny…not this time,” she whispered, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I wrote my love for you on my palms, and you gifted me with a lifetime of loneliness, a tormenting wait that only ceased at my dying breath. I refuse to be yours anymore.”
His hand shifted to cup her cheek, thumb tracing the lines of her cheekbones. “You waited only because you searched for me without. Had you searched within, you would have found me in you, with you, in every step, in every moment.” His forehead touched hers, his warm breath mingling with hers. “We are not separate, my love. So why did you wait?”
“You may have a honeyed tongue,” she breathed shakily, eyelashes fluttering shut. She could drown in his fragrance. He smelled like the earth, the sky, the very stars. “But this time-”
His lips on hers silenced her. It was a soft, insistent brush of his mouth against hers that sent a piercing yearning through her. She gasped as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Her one hand pushed at his hard chest, even as the other one tangled in his dark curls. He laughed against her lips, breaking their kiss.
“Resistance is futile, my love.” She opened her mouth indignantly, but he placed a finger over her lips, mirth shining in his eyes. “Look around you. Basant is here.”
She followed his gaze, watching in shock at flowers blooming all around the garden. The nightingale had picked up a merry tune, adding to the chirruping of insects. Beside her, some orange flowers of the Kadamba tree fell at her feet.
“How did…Did we-?” When she turned towards him, her question lodged in her throat. No one was there.
Look for me within, Radha. For you, and I…are one and the same.
She shivered at the whisper near her ear.
Radha closed her eyes in surrender and sighed, and her one sigh gave breath to new life all over her kingdom.
Basant was indeed here. [999 words]
**************
1st Runner-Up ---
The Embers of Love
oye_nakhrewaali
"Sita," Ram whispered, pushing away the stray strand that was on his wife's face as she softly grunted in her sleep. The leaves of the trees outside were rustling gently, and the crickets were making noise in the far off distance and were disturbing the calm of the night but weren't loud enough to disturb his wife's sleep.
"Sita," He spoke a little loudly, unable to contain his excitement this time.
Sita opened her eyes to look at her husband, who was beaming like the moon in the sky.
"What time is it? Why are you awake? Is everything ok?" She couldn't help but panic, even though Ram's expressions were saying otherwise.
"Yes, but you need to wake up. I want to show you something!" Sita sighed and woke up.
"Where's Laxman?"
"He is outside. He is fine," Sita nodded and pulled a thin shawl to cover herself.
Ram took her hand, and they walked into the thicket of the jungle. Laxman had only smiled excitedly at Sita and had silently promised Ram that he would keep a watch.
What had gotten the brothers so excited? Shaking her head, she looked at her husband, who stopped walking and signed at her to look. She looked at the thicket that was filled with fluttering fireflies.
Their yellow, shimmery light contrasted against the dark blue sky. The beauty of the scene in front of her made her gasp and smile.
"It is beautiful," She said. The fireflies looked so beautiful as they floated in the trees and the bushes; who seemed to have lost their color to the darkness of the night and were satisfied with the shadowy darker colors. The fireflies looked like the embers on fire that floated around as if they were remnants of the fire that had extinguished long ago.
She looked at Ram, but he was paying attention to her, not the fireflies.
And now Sita's breath hitched. The light of the fireflies was somehow reflected on Ram's face, and his usually beautiful face seemed to have found its enhanced, undeclared beauty. She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, drinking in his beauty.
"Are you ok?" He whispered, suddenly concerned.
"Yeah," She flushed.
"I knew you wouldn't want to miss this beautiful scene," He smiled like a child, radiant and innocent.
"No, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," She said but wasn't paying attention to the fireflies anymore. Ram gazed at her ever so lovingly and smiled.
"Do you want to go back?" He asked, and she nodded in a no. Ram nodded as if he knew that would be her answer and led her to a place in the bushes where they could sit. Sita rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and he wrapped his arm around her, the shawl covering them from the soft, cold winds.
"Sita, about today morning..." Sita blushed.
"You never told me you were so good at archery?"
"It never came up," she shrugged. Personally, she never felt she was that great at archery. The four sisters were trained in sword fighting and archery, but they never practiced post their marriage. Not that Sita complained about it. She was content. She didn't like violence and bloodshed as it is.
That morning, while Ram was bathing, she was sitting on the riverbank, watching him, and out of nowhere, a wild animal jumped on him, and Sita instinctively picked Ram's bow and arrow that were sitting near her and took a shot, and luckily, she got it right. It was as if she was consumed by the fire to protect him, nothing more, nothing less.
"It was nothing, Aarya,"
"You are humble. I would like you to join Laxman and me when we practice,"
"Aarya..."
"Sita..." He teased. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. She had seen the determination in his eyes and knew she couldn't get away with it.
"Sita, you are the most brilliant woman I have had the privilege to meet. It is an honour to see your different, hidden skills. But I wish for you to be yourself with me. I don't want you hiding behind any pretense that society imposes on you. You are purer and more brilliant than the fire that gives out its warmth, Sita, and you can't hide away your light from the world because the world can't handle it. "
"That's not what I do," She gasped. But she knew she was lying. With age, she and her sisters were told to be more ladylike. She was expected to behave in a certain way, and she was molded into that behaviour since she learned to speak, or maybe even before that.
She had no complaints about it, but at times, it did get suffocating. She knew Ram could sense it. And that is why she loved him so much; he knew her, he understood her, better than anyone else ever had.
"Maybe, it is the way it is supposed to be," She sighed and looked at the fireflies.
"But when you are with me, it needn't be that way," Ram said, and she looked up at him. He was smiling softly at her as if encouraging her.
"I'll try to join you two when you are practicing,"
"Laxman would like that," He said.
"And so would I," He smiled and kissed her forehead.
Sita smiled at her husband and look at the fireflies, flying freely, without a care of the world, in their bliss, spreading their light. It was why she loved the forest and the vanvas; it was what set her free from the expectations people had from their princess, their future queen.
She could enjoy the serenity nature offered, the moonlit night's whispers to the stars, her husband's company, his love and care, his warmth; without being worried about the royal traditions.
She never wanted it to end so that these moments of joy could last until the end of infinity. [ 998 words]
***************
2nd Runner- Up
The Last Gift
tournesol
Panchali glanced from the coal gas oven towards the brook where her husbands were resting. Nakula was making a medicinal paste to apply on their feet injuries caused due to walking long distances on the hills. Sahadeva and Yudhishthira were quietly discussing dharmashastra. A dog was sitting nearby and listening as if understanding their every word. Arjuna had made an indigenous fishing bait from the roots of a tree. He aimed it grimly into the water, touched one of the flowing fishes with precision and retrieved his bait without killing anything.
Something clenched within Panchali's heart as she watched them. She had never seen Arjuna so upset, the brothers so quiet. They always brimmed with innocent cheer even when they had a war to win. Now they had won the war and established dharma, they had ruled in peace for thirty-six years before passing the kingdom to Parikshit, yet the horrors of the war had never left. Especially the news of Govind's death was too much to take. Arjuna would not recover from it till the end of their journey. His gallant frame carried unsaid sorrow, his eyes laced with unshed grief, only a faint hope to see Govind again when they finally reach heaven glimmered.
The clouds of sorrow shadowing Arjuna's face pricked Panchali, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She wished to see him happy once again. She wished there was a way to ensure that his charming smile never left his face.
Panchali was so entranced in Arjuna's thoughts that she didn't realize that Bhima was missing. She stirred the cooking pot one final time, removed it from fire and went inside when someone stood behind her with a fragrant hair garland made up of beautiful Himalayan flowers. It was Bhima.
"Oh my queen," said Bhima, "I have brought you rare Himalayan flowers from the mountains. I know you love adorning your hair with flowers, and I wanted to gift them to you on our last day together. Will you allow me to decorate your valiant hair with the flowers of my love?"
Bhima gazed lovingly at Panchali. It was the last day between Bhima-Panchali before she performed her fire penance, and Arjuna approached her. Maybe they would already reach heaven before Bhima again regained his rights. He looked and took in her beautiful features as much as he could.
Panchali stilled at Bhima's words; she realized what she had done. The war might have ceased on the holy land, but her warring heart was still on after eighty-two years of their marriage. She had followed every dharma, every ritual that came with her unusual marriage, she performed the fire penance at the end of each year, she loved and cared for all her husbands. But no ritual could stop her heart from quivering for Dhananjaya, to sting at his pain, to pride more at his bravery, to long for his glances, or to seek out his love even when she was with her other husbands. She discovered her heart was warring between her dharma and her first love.
In her longing for Arjuna, she had unseen Bhima, the man who had given her everything she wanted, who always stood up for her, who loved and protected her, who avenged the likes of Duryodhana and Dussasana for insulting her, and washed her hair with the enemy's blood. She remembered the day Bhima left to chase Saugandhika flowers when she had admired its fragrance in the air. None of her husbands ever did something like this for her. Bhima's heart was as large as his appetite for food. For him, his dharma was his love.
Panchali held Bhima and cried with his heartbeat. She had wept like this years ago when he had got Saugandhika flowers for her. But this time, something about her tears pained him more.
“Oh my beloved husband Bhima," Panchali said, "I do not deserve your beautiful gift. You are the only one who has given me all that a woman longs for, yet I have been ignorant of you. I have been blind for Partha but you have protected me every time and repaid me for the humiliation I had received. I wish I could rectify myself and love you in the same way as you love me.”
Bhima held her in his embrace and let her weep. He knew the pain of parting from one's love. He knew how torn she had felt at the time of her marriage with the Pandavas.
Bhima said, "Oh my dear, I have no complaints or doubts about your love for me. You are one of the bravest women I know, and you deserve all the happiness in this world. Happiness as eternal as the sun, as immortal as death, as tempestuous as the wind, as invigorating as the rain, and as healing as true love. No matter what, I will love you till the end of time."
Panchali lifted her chin to look at her husband. He was also weeping with each tear that left her eye. There was a strange pain in her chest, and longing that she never felt before. The sun was almost set. Panchali could hear her breaths getting shallower.
"My end is near beloved," she whispered, "Take me to the brook. But before I go, please promise to be the eldest in our next birth."
Bhima kissed her temple overwhelmed with love and grief.
"I promise," he said and carried her to the brook.
Panchali left for heavenly abode after seeing her husbands one last time. The fire that once danced in her eyes consumed her pyre. Bhima felt his heart fall apart in pieces. Agony consumed Arjuna. She was not supposed to leave. Didn't she know he was waiting for her? He wondered if her soul chose this day to die to profess her eternal love with her last fire penance as her last gift.
"I love you Panchali," he said heavenwards, "I always have," ---- [Words 994]
*****************
Special Jury Award
Budha and Ila
proteeti
The virescent trees swayed gently as a cool wind swam through them. The branches of the trees bowed with the weight of the ripe fruits that hung from them. Flowers beamed up at the sky in full glory. The river flowed with a quiet gurgling noise. The bushes of reed shushed along the banks as birds lined up on the tree branches singing harmonious melodies. The stunningly blue sky adorned itself with playful white clouds.
In the midst of this captivating scene, Budha sat under a tree. Despite sincere tries, he could not focus his mind upon meditation. The fragrance of the several blooming flowers had somehow penetrated the fortress of his indifference. Despite being the very controller of Nature, he felt overcome by her.
A faint tinkle of anklets floated to the ears of Budha. Giving up on his meditations for the day, Budha ventured in the direction of the pleasant noise.
Before the divine grove of the Mother Goddess kneeled a woman. She looked distraught. Several soldiers surrounded her. Budha cautiously approached the party. “Who is the lady? Who upset her this way?” He asked.
Fighting back tears he replied, “Sire, this is none but our King, the scion of the House of Surya! He has been struck by a curse for entering the Mother Goddess’s sacred grove! He has been cursed to become a woman every alternate month! When he is in the form of a woman, he has no recollection of his masculine self and vice versa! Say, what shall we do now?”
Budha quietly approached the lady. He gently lifted her face by placing two fingers under her chin. “Everything happens to serve a greater cause. Say, what is your name?”
“Maharaja Il.” A soldier prompted. She stared at him, still shaken. Budha addressed her companions, “Pray, return to your kingdom. Let his ministers govern. I shall take care of him.” Turning to the woman he said, “Ila, I am Budha, son of Chandra. My ashram is not far from here. Will you come with me?”
---
Budha gently led Ila into his chambers. She finally spoke, “Sire, shall I never regain any semblance of my identity? If I change my identity every month then who am I in reality?”
Budha sighed, “You should seek the answers to these questions within yourself. I cannot possibly understand the upheaval you are going through at this moment. I can promise one thing, keep reflecting, and you will find closure, at least.”
“Who in this world has ever heard of such absurdity? A man and a woman in a single body! Does even a single creature like me exist in nature?!”
Budha smiled, as he handed her a glass filled with soma juice, “They do exist, Ila, just not in the public eye. The human society has rejected them, and hence they serve celestial beings. Drink it now, it’ll do you good.”
He turned on his way out, “You are welcome in my residence for as long as you will need. If you require any assistance, just holler.”
---
Budha looked out of his window. Ila was strolling lazily in his garden, tending to the flowers. A month was almost over.
Budha sighed. His heart begged for what his mind opposed. In a day she would be gone. Maybe forever.
She looked up. As their eyes met, she beamed. She will not remember this. Budha’s heart ached for Ila. In the past month, he had developed quite an attachment to her. Who knows what the man will be like? Will he leave? What will he do next month? Will Il not remember Budha? Will he hate Budha for being a reminder of his curse? He looked out again. Ila was silently stroking a little bird perched on her slender fingers.
---
Night had come. The sky brimmed with twinkling stars. Buddha looked up at the moon, his father. What should I do? His eyes seemed to ask. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find Ila. “Tomorrow, I become a man.” She spoke.
Budha nodded, “You sound upset.” He said instinctively. “Thought you wanted to be a man?”
“I do want that,” She said. “But guess Ila will always be a part of Il. No matter what I do I cannot change that," she sighed, "May I ask a favour of you?” She asked. Budha nodded eagerly.
Tears brimmed in her eyes, “Please do not abandon me, even if I forget you. You were there for me when all else had left me. I will forget you tomorrow, you must not let me go!”
Budha smiled as he made up his mind, “There is only one way of making sure I hold good to that promise,” he put his arms on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes, “Marry me.”
Ila’s eyes widened in confusion, “Marry you? But I am not even a true woman!”
“I do not care about that, Ila. I have fallen in love with a pure soul, and I want to make it mine.”
“You deserve better, my Lord!” She exclaimed, “You deserve someone who shall not spend half of her life not knowing you!”
“Do you not want to marry me, Ila? Am I not good enough?” Budha questioned.
“No! I do, I really do! But,”
“What is the problem then?” He interrupted her, “Can you not see the love in my eyes? Believe me, I do not care if you’re a woman or a man. I simply want the heart that is beating within to be mine.
Come, let us get married right now. Look! The sun is rising from behind the mountains, but the moon has not yet set. Let them all bear witness as the solar and lunar lineages merge through our union!”
Budha embraced Ila as he gently planted a kiss on her forehead. The moon quietly slid into oblivion as golden rays drenched the couple. “We shall meet again, my love.” He whispered.
[1000 words]
********************
Round of Applause Award
The Immolated Love
Alexia_Wilson
“You are the truth. And whatever is the truth is Sati! You might dismiss me but you cannot dismiss the fact that I am Shakti, the beloved of her Shiv.” She said, those eyes of hers burning with determination as they looked into his unfeeling ones as she spoke. Her lips didn't tremble even a bit when those words decided to leave her mouth. But instead, his resolve trembled and shattered. His ignorance towards her shattered in pieces as he saw her embracing her true form as his Shakti.
He was frozen. Seeing the Lord of Destruction, everyone bowed down as a mark of respect while Lord Vishnu and Lord Brahma greeted him. But Mahadev was too grief-stricken to greet them back. His eyes never left the burning body of her as he started walking forward. Seeing her burn, he wanted to lash at Agni Dev but he knew it would be wrong. As it wasn't the fire of Agni Dev that now engulfed her body like a shroud. Instead, it was her energy. The energy of Shakti, his Shakti. He knew her. For her his insult was unbearable. She couldn’t bear to stay in her mortal form and be the daughter of Prajapati who insulted her beloved Mahadev so ruthlessly.
“Why did you leave me alone my Lord? Why? Am I not your wife? Your better half?” She asked slightly hurt that he left her alone at night to go to his devotees. She knew they needed him. She knew even they needed their Mahadev but how should she pacify herself. How should stop her heart from hurting? Mahadev looked up to her eyes which were now glistened with tears. He knew she was hurt but he also knew he was helpless. So he kept a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he tried to pacify her, “My dear, you are my wife. I am your better half. The one who is incomplete without you. But For the ones who devote their entire beings to me, I cannot be selfish to not let them see me. And when have I left you alone my dear? You are Shakti, the cosmic energy. You are everywhere. You are even inside me. How can Shiv ever be separated from his Shakti?”
Her anger over him going to meet his devotees and leaving her alone. Her being in the mortal body had made her vulnerable to human vices such as jealousy. She couldn't control it. He knew that hence he knew he had to pacify his angered wife. But now, when she immolated herself in her anger he couldn't do anything. He was helpless, He could only watch her burn her mortal remains as he kneeled down near her body.
“I am Dakshayani, the daughter of Prajapati Daksh. I don't need an invitation to go to the Yagna he is conducting.” Sati said angrily. “Don't do it Sati, you are Dakshayani, but now you are also married to someone he abhors. He won't just see you as his daughter but also see you as his nemesis’s wife” Mahadev tried to make his wife understand the consequences of her going uninvited to her father’s Yagna. “Never! I can never believe my father thinking of me like that. I have made my mind about going there. And no one, not even you, my Lord can stop me from going there.” Sati said determinedly as she walked away from where he sat. Having turned her back towards him she couldn't see the melancholy look her husband had on his face as he watched her walk away. He knew this was destined. But somewhere Mahadev wished he could be selfish. Selfish in love.
He knew at that time that if he had been compulsive enough then he wouldn't have seen this day. But he knew this was destiny. Destiny of his Shakti going towards her true identity and forcing her would’ve resulted in snatching it away and Mahadev could never bear to snatch the identity of his Shakti from her. Tears of anger and desperation fell from his eyes as he took her burning mortal remains in his arms and started walking away. No one dared to stop him, lest his anger over his wife’s death might burn them from his third eye.
The ever-smiling Lord Vishnu had a melancholy look while he saw Mahadev walk away with Sati’s burning body in his arms. His heart ached for the two lovers. But he knew that this was needed. “Why did it happen, my Lord? Aren’t Shakti and Shiv meant to be together? Then why after a long separation, Devi Shakti finally met her Mahadev only to separate?” Devi Lakshmi asked her husband. Lord Vishnu looked up to his wife and with a slight smile, he said, “Where is Devi Shakti separated from Mahadev, my dear? Without Shakti, Shiv is lifeless. Just like how a body is dead without its soul. Devi Shakti is energy while Mahadev is the being. Together they are one. And no one can separate them. But for the betterment of the world, even Shiv and Shakti need to sacrifice. To show the world that even we, the immortal beings, the Gods have to sacrifice for love.” “Can’t Mahadev resurrect Devi Sati?” Devi Lakshmi asked. “He can, but he won't.” Lord Vishnu replied confusing Devi Lakshmi, “Why my Lord? When Mahadev has the power to resurrect her then why won't he?” “Because he doesn't want to insult Devi Shakti. She immolated herself to honour him after he was ruthlessly insulted by the father of her mortal being. To revive her is to insult her. And Mahadev can never do that to her. Even if it means to live without her he will but he won't let her immolation go in vain. And now only Devi Shakti can decide when they reunite. And I am sure she won't take too long.” Lord Vishnu paused, “Because even Shakti is incomplete without her Shiv.”
Word Count: 991
**********************
Edited by Viswasruti - 3 years ago
It is time to thank all the participants who took the time to send in their entries to this competition that showcase their creativity.
..
2nd Runner-up
You not only portrayed the myriad emotions of Radha's longing, craving and pining for the beloved so effectively, the narrative does not lag, it sustains interest and more importantly, the tale moves forward with beautiful vignettes, from longing for him to triumph of realization at the end. 
comment:
p_commentcount