KRISHAVYAYAM

86. To Protect The Pious

The captivity was smothering and unsettling. Though, the temple still radiated the aura of one. Rama’s tender eyes bore through the dark as they found her scrunched figure. Let bravery come, but not at the cost of wits, they said. But she was unwilling to curb.

“You should know better than to goad my mother,” the princess retorted tersely with her eyes— her father's eyes— haunting the namesake. Hazel, dark, glinting eyes. Defiant, rebellious, measured. “Merely the act of underestimating your enemy hints towards your doltishness. If you must insist on pulling a show of your non-existent prowess then you should combat the ones with arms, not the ones whose tied up hands fuel your conceit.”

“Do you have no self-preservation?” The Mleccha girl admonished in disbelief and worry as Paundraka raised a brow with dry amusement, “Outspoken thing. You should fear death, you have your whole life ahead of you. You are of little use to me either way, just shut your gob and you'll be fine.”

Abhishtada shrugged, pushing her tears away. The last satisfaction this useless one would have was seeing her ache. Her head drubbed and parched lips sighed out in worry. I hope Maa is safe. “Choose life over death, always,” her mother had advised, fixing the brooch pin at her shoulder. Her mother's lips never forsook a smile, similar to her father. Abhishtada wondered who got it from whom. Two halves of a whole, always, there was perhaps no one they valued as much as the other one. “Abhi, my sweet child, there is no defiance in voluntarily incensing your nemesis, slow poison them instead. Be a predator if you must, never a prey.
The universe favors the wise.”

Krishna’s daughter laughed against the chagrin of Srugala Vaasudeva, “Pardon me, my king. I am my father’s child, and my mother's mirror.”

“There is a glory in a death of esteem that a life of indignity cannot offer,” Krisha murmured to herself, remembering what she had chanted as a juvenile fighter. Gallantry, ambition, reign was the way of the Kshatriyas. A playful smirk came to her lips as something stirred at the back of her mind. “But of course, there's sheer joy in outliving everyone you come to despise.”

“Pranaam Mata,” a deep voice rumbled in the murky clouds as a flutter went through the air. The earth shook momentarily and the queen raised her hand in blessing. Multiple other half-men beasts came as Dharmadhvaja and Devahuti curled their lips in relief. “Kalyanamastu Vainateya.” Vahnijaa grinned ear to ear as the tribe of eagles sieged the capital city. “I know the tribe does not possess a good night vision, but this wouldn't be possible without all of you. I shall have Uluka lead. We need to have our people back, they've been claimed as hostages by Paundraka and his troops. There, in the temple town.”

Garuda shook his head, alabaster and tawny feathers gleaming orphically in the warm glow of fire lamps as their oils sizzled, flames dancing in the threat of a hurricane. Somewhere, a wicker combusted. “It wouldn't be any problem. As you command, mother.” He bowed low and let out a keen war cry as his ilks followed the suit.

“As the queen pleases,” the wise owl of Chanchalaa chirped cheekily, exuberant to find his mistress chuckle at his mischief. The son of Vanita and he had raced down the doors of Vaikuntha at once when Shri asked for their disposal. Uluka had beaten him, being the one with the asset of a sharp vision in the caligo, but was waiting for Mata to specifically ask for him. He did enjoy some extra fondness of her, suave that he was.

“Long since you remember this puny one, mother,” he continued, round eyes twinkling and mirroring the ether of the nightfall and he gazed far. “You are my child, and a child is never truly out of his mother's mind. I would have to forget you to recall your glorious presence, Uluka. Will you be willing to help?” Krisha’s tone held the tilt of a playful question, grateful that her wits were in the perfect tandem.