To commence a saga with a classic, 'A long time back, there lived a Princess ' comes off as boring and to be truthful, redundant. But well, you see, when we are dishing about something that transpired to a Royal Goddess almost 5000 years ago, we don...
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The river bank of Ganga was overjoyed. It was glorifying with tides and collisions on the shore as its residual Goddess was cruising to catalyze the inception of a blessed being, one that was going to recreate a significant part in the imminent future chronology. Shri Vishnu had made it clear to the Mother River, how the offspring she obtained from the world would be emancipated to her foster parents.
And so, King Sarveshya and Queen Dasika had beseeched the idylls for a daughter. It had been a panorama to dream of as Ganga materialized from the flames of the pit fire, a little newborn girl in her arms.
As she handed the infant to the ecstatic King and Queen, Ganga drove them to endure an oath to never taboo the girl from anything, creating her the fairest queen warrior of the three worlds and entitling her to live her life to her own boundaries. Their limit was to not.
And before departing, Ganga appealed for one more thing, for a name that the child was then dubbed, Padmavati.
Time pushed and soon the youth pivoted into a teen, proceeding under the guidance of Rishi Durvasa, who was unsusceptible but Ganga herself had won over him, and so for the successive five years she trained, not as a Kshatriya, not as a Brahmin or Shudra, but as an entity of the elevated world.
Till the while her studies were over, she existed as a newly turned adult and rightly materialized so. What the child's body didn't possess, the lean midriff, rounder hips and breasts, had now been embraced. Yet, they were superficial and sunken modifications.
She was a changed woman from within. Her soul was replenished with merely sympathy and tenderness, now held fervour and vigour. Her senses were restless and were now acquainted to make it through the toughest of circumstances with a smile on her countenance, all forbearance and tranquillity.
Padmavati, after returning from the abodes of Rishi Durvasa, her father had designated her as the vice advisor and commander's arms consultant. She spent her days now, supervising ordinary issues of the populace and putting effort into converting the military into a standing one.
But there was quiet.
In her darkest winks, when she paid dividends to her chamber to welcome slumber, she was shunned. Sleepless and happening, Padmavati gaped at the elevated canopy of her enclosure, wondering if anything would vary. Would there be any exhilaration in the monotonous day and dusk or would she have to come to terms for serenity?
