A Whole New World: A Desi Disney Anthology

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— "Rise and rise again until lambs become lions."

"You're my little fawn."

𝕷egend claims that once upon a time in a land far away, amongst the swinging branches of a forest so dense that the sun couldn't shine through lived a vigilante and his crony who raised the flag of justice and eradicated all evil. The arrow in his longbow was strung tight, its target invariably a man with pockets filled with gold and silver.

Men who reeked of power. Boasted of power. Violated their power.

On that land and in that forest amongst the shadows breathed a hero who ironically breached all the laws to champion the unfortunate.

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The sky was pure white cotton candy merged into large strings of light blue, streaks of gold enhancing the elaborate display of nature's art. The birds chirped and flew over the sparkling waters of the lake that sat beside the infamous forest of the little hidden town, the squirrels snuggled inside their homes in tree stumps while the rest of the animal kingdom sauntered about in their territory.

Raiya could be mistaken for a fairytale kingdom with the unseen and unheard-of treasures it possessed but unfortunately, no magical powers protected it from the worldly dangers which were why the roars and cries of protests wafted around amidst the endless silence and serenity of the woods.

"You can not build an empire on our land!"

"Raiya is not yours!"

"Give us our land back! Thieves! Robbers!"

They were young raffish-looking children to elderly males that were near dropping dead, and women that cried pitifully under the scorching sun with their little babes cradled to their chest. It was a tragic scene that pulled at the onlooker's heartstrings.

The Kingdom was theirs, and so were the dreams.

The man who was cloaked in the shadows of his mountain house witnessed the scene with eyes reddened with rage and anguish. One would have to read him closely to feel the waves of madness emanating from him. He stood there in all his glory, hands folded behind his back; a black shirt stretched taut against his shoulders. his lean torso highlighted the protruding sinews of his body, his head tilted up in calmness that hid an incoming storm. Black hair danced to the wind's song, and the chain that hung from his neck glittered under the sun's golden rays.

What dangled from the chain was a bow and in the arrow's stead lay an intricately carved wisteria twinkling in lush colors of violet.

He did not believe in vengeance.

He believed in justice.

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Mahrosh Khan paced back and forth in the kitchen barefoot with her yellow skirt swirling about her. The woman presented a picture of an earthly flower-child that one might find in an Earth Day Parade holding a "HIPPIE (noun) : one who embraces life to fullest and promotes love, peace, and happiness" sign. People called her "boho" and to some extent, it was true because she was indeed a free spirit, a lover of life's beauty, eccentric as well as unique in her own right. an artist who painted with her eyes closed and an adventurous wanderer who let the breeze decide her course.

But today, none of her crystals could soothe her frazzled nerves or restrain her anxiety from overtaking her mind. The small basket glinted under the chandelier: alone and sad. Lapis Lazuli, Pyrite, Amethyst, Onyx, Obsidian, and Opal were some of the few relaxants she kept at hand.