Storytelling: An Exclusive Interview with the Vahanas

“Hello, everybody and welcome to the show!  As your host tonight, I’ll be conducting a few interviews with the deities’ vahanas!  I’m sure you’ve often wondered what it would be like to be the vehicle of a god!  Now we have the mounts themselves here to answer questions!”

“First up we have Nandi, Lord Shiva’s vahana!  Nandi, how are you today?”

The elaborately painted white bull snorted and tossed his head.  “Same old, same old.  I’ve been guarding Shiva’s palace for the past three thousand years, give or take a few hundred.  Stuff gets old.  I used to think it was so exciting working for Shiva, you know?  But now I’m bored.”

“Bored?  Really?  I thought demons attacked all the time!  I mean I know Ravana did . . .”

“Ha!  Demons don’t scare me, especially not Ravana!  He practically ran after I cursed him, but anyway Ravana’s old news.  Haven’t had anything nearly that heart-pounding in a thousand years.”  The bull shook his head sadly.

“Wow, I had no idea.  Have you considered maybe leaving Shiva’s service to find something a little more suited to you?”

“No!  Absolutely not!”  Nandi beat his hooves on the ground.  “I could never leave Lord Shiva!  He saved me when I had nothing and has been nothing but helpful.  Maybe it is getting monotonous now but I would never leave him.”

“Such devotion!  How did that come about?”

“I used to be a human, actually.  When I was only a young boy, two sages visited my father.  They told him that I would not have a long life.  My father was extremely alarmed but didn’t know what to do.  He broke down and told me what they had said.  I told him not to worry and that Lord Shiva would protect me.  So, I prayed to Lord Shiva every day, and finally he rewarded my devotion with a boon.  I asked that I be allowed to pray for one more year for him.  When that year ended, I asked for the same boon, and again and again.  Finally, Lord Shiva recognized my devotion and made me an immortal bull that was sworn to protect his home forever.  And that is why I will never leave him, no matter what happens.”

The host wiped away a tear surreptitiously.  “That was beautiful, thank you, Nandi.  It was great hearing from you.”  The bull inclined his head and walked off the stage.

“Next we have Airavata, the last winged elephant and the mount of Indra!  Airavata, how did you come into Indra’s service?”

The winged elephant gracefully folded his wings behind his back and gestured with his trunk.  “My story is very similar to Nandi’s, in that Indra too showed me great mercy.  I was grievously injured after a battle with a rakshasa, and Indra found me and saved me.  In return, I will serve him for the rest of my life.”

“I am sure he does not regret his decision.  Now, there have many been many rumors surrounding your birth or creation.  So, let’s clear this up for the viewers.  What is your actual origin story?”

The elephant chuckled.  “It may be less interesting than you hoped.  I was not born from the churning of the Ocean of Milk as some believe.  Nor is my mother Iravati as the Ramayana claims.  In fact, I emerged along with 7 other brothers and sisters from an egg at the dawn of time.  Brahma himself watched over our hatching and birth.”

“Forgive me if I’m too forward, but what happened to your brothers and sisters?  You are the last winged elephant left, are you not?”

Airavata sighed.  “Yes, it’s true.  Unfortunately, one of my siblings offended a sage.  Enraged, the sage proclaimed that he and his kind would never fly again.  He only spared me because I was the king of elephants and Indra’s mount.”

“I’m so sorry for what happened, and thank you for telling us about it.  It was great hearing from you today, Airavata.”

“Thank you for having me,” the elephant rumbled as he left the stage.

“Finally, our last guest!  Mushika, mount of Ganesh, welcome!”

“It’s great to be here,” the giant mouse squeaked.

“Now, Mushika, I’m sure you know what my first question will be.  Just how did you become the mount of Ganesh?”

The mouse laughed.  “Well, my story is a bit different from the others.  You see, I was actually a rakshasa originally.  I wasn’t a good, devoted person at all.  In fact, I got into a lot of trouble.  Well, one day Ganesh was fed up with my nonsense.  He decided to put a stop to my bad behavior and captured me with a golden lasso.”

“Wow, what a story!  So, what made you decide to continue following Ganesh?  Would you go back to being a rakshasa?”

“Hell no,” Mushika said.  “I love being Ganesh’s vahana.  Sure I have a bit less freedom than I did before, but I have so many more privileges.  I can go anywhere with Ganesh, and he depends on me a lot too.  It’s not one-sided like a lot of people think.  I give him power to control useless thoughts.  Plus, all of the gods have to bow down before me too.  It’s pretty great.  I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

“Thank you for that incredible insight on what it’s like to be a vahana!  It was wonderful having you on the show tonight, Mushika.”

“It was a pleasure being here.”  The mouse scampered off the stage.

“Thanks for tuning in folks!  Next week, I’ll be back with the consorts of the gods!  Ever wanted to hear Sarasvati or Lakshmi’s perspective?  Now you’ll get the chance, next Wednesday 8:00 central!”

Nandi and Lord Shiva.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  At the end of Divine Beings, they had a little section about all of the vahanas of the different gods, and I was so intrigued!  It was so cool to hear about how the gods rode around on them and how they could even give them more powers like Mushika said!  The little backstories that the mounts themselves say are all taken from the graphic novel.  The rumors about Airavata's birth are from the different retellings of his creation.  The part about Mushika liking the gods bowing to him is from his time as a rakshasa where he offended a sage, who cursed him to be a giant mouse.  The sage later relented and told him that the gods would eventually bow down to him, which they did as he was the mount of Ganesh.  Airavata's sibling's story is also from a myth!  One of the winged elephants tried to perch on a tree but broke the branch and fell on a sage who cursed him to lose his wings.  Airavata was only spared because he was the king of the elephants (I put in that he was also the mount of Indra but at that time he wasn't yet).  All the rest is directly from the graphic novel!

Bibliography:  Divine Beings.  Reading Guide.

Storytelling: Resistance is Futile

You stand at a fork in the road.  The trees whisper, “Which shall it be?”

Karna lifts the bow easily, smugly, and turns to the crowd.

“You are not worthy to compete!” the king bleats.

“I have as much a right as anyone here,” Karna declares, nocking an arrow lazily.  “Have I not passed the first test?”

The king dares not say a word, but beside her, her brother reaches for his sword.

You choose the left path with its convenient gravel walkway and shady trees.

She steps forward, startling the crowd into silence.  As she lifts her veil, she tosses her hair back, and no man can resist following the movement.

“And, pray tell,” she smiles, “what the name of your father is?  If you may become my future husband, I should know such important details of your lineage, don’t you think?”

The assembly begins to snicker, as Karna’s face burns like the sun.  He throws the bow on the ground.

“Mark my words, princess,” he sneers.  “You will regret this moment for the rest of your life.”

She laughs.  After all what does she have to fear from the son of a charioteer?

She thinks she knows what he meant when they shame her in front of the court and try to humiliate her as she did him.

It’s only later, years later, when she knows what he truly meant, when her brother is dead, when her father is dead, when millions have died.

All for the sake of her pride.

You choose the right path.  It’s a little muddy, but there’s a nice view of the lake.

She squeezes her brother’s hand as she steps forward.

“What is the harm in letting him compete?” she says.  “The bow has clearly shown that he is worthy enough.  Let him try for the target as any one of you here would.”

Karna’s eyes are grateful, the arrogant façade stripped away.  His smile is only for her.

And when he hits the target, her smile is the only one he sees.

But even love does not exist alone, and there are others who feel insulted, alliances that must be changed, and advisors that must be consulted.

Her father and her brother are forced to change sides because of her.

But others do not, and even without her, the wheel turns.

The bet is still made, but she is not at stake this time.

Grudges are still held, and there is less sorrow for her at the beginning but more at the end.

For she still loses it all:  her husband, her brother, and her father.

And this time she is not on the winning side.

You choose to go back.  Why choose now when you can choose later?

There’s ashes in her mouth when she speaks, and she knows she’ll remember this moment for the rest of her life.

“I am flattered that you would choose to vie for my hand, Karna,” she says, her solemn eyes looking only at him.

“But my father does not want me to go so far away.  He wants his dearest daughter nearby, and I could not refuse him.  As it is my swayamvar, I am allowed to choose who I marry.  These challenges merely screen people and find worthy husbands, but it is my own right to choose among them.  Therefore, I will not be able to choose you, Karna, although I am dearly gladdened by your choosing to compete.”

Karna opens and closes his mouth.  There is nothing he can say to this without being ungracious, and so he nods and puts down the bow.

She thinks the crisis has been averted and congratulates herself for her kind words.

She marries others, but the bet is still made.

There is no less humiliation in store for her, and she burns to punish them, and her vengeance undoes them.

She finds herself alone again, at the end of her life.

“How could I have stopped this?” she cries to the gods, and they reply, “You couldn’t have.”

Arjuna at Draupadi's swayamvar.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  After reading the first third of The Palace of Illusions, I was very intrigued by Draupadi and wanted to write from her point of view.  I just got to the swayamvar and it presents an interpretation where Draupadi was actually interested in Karna and only insulted him because she was afraid he would kill her brother.  So, I began wondering what would have happened if Draupadi had married Karna rather than the Pandavas.  I came to the conclusion that not much would change as the Kauravas and Pandavas would still hate each other and they were only waiting for a spark to set them ablaze.  This made me think of the short story "The Roads of Destiny" by O. Henry where a young poet decides to leave home and comes across three paths.  Although he encounters very different things with the different paths he chooses, the end result is always the same for him.  I wanted to incorporate that idea of seemingly being able to choose and yet still ending up with the same result in Draupadi's story.

Bibliography:  The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.  Reading Guide.

Storytelling: Dharma

“It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection.”

Ekalavya looked at him curiously and smiled.  Arjuna smiled back cautiously.  He wasn’t sure what to make of this forest boy with the uncanny talent for archery.  He could sense Drona’s displeasure, however, and knew to stay back.

“I want you to cut your thumb off,” Drona said dismissively.

Arjuna stared in shock as Ekalavya merely smiled and obeyed immediately.

“Thank you, sage,” the boy murmured as his blood dripped on the ground.  Arjuna couldn’t stop watching the casual fall of the blood droplets from the stump on his hand.

He thought he would be sick, but he couldn’t do that in front of Drona, so he made himself numb.  As they walked by Ekalavya to go home, Arjuna could not stop himself from glancing back at the boy that they had taken everything from.

“Don’t worry,” Ekalavya whispered, startling Arjuna.  “I reached too high.  I’m not meant to be a warrior, but you are.  Do what I cannot.”

And Arjuna could do nothing but nod.

“No one should abandon duties because he sees defects in them.”

“Please Arjuna, see reason!” Yudhishthira begged.  “There is no need for you to go into exile!  You had a justifiable reason to interrupt us!  I won’t force you to go!”

“No, Yudhishthira,” Arjuna sighed.  “I knew what I was doing when I came upon you and Draupadi.  I knew what it meant, but I had no choice.  And there is still no choice now.”

“But there is!  None of us will force you into exile!  Draupadi understands the circumstances!  Everyone understands the circumstances!”

Arjuna looked him in the eyes.  “And what does that say about me if I will forget my oaths because others understand why I could?  Oaths are oaths, Yudhishthira, you know this best.  They are my duty, no matter how I or you feel.  I knew the consequences, and I will pay the price.”

“But—“

Sighing, Arjuna placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  “I know there is no reason for me to go.  But that is why I must go.”

“Then go,” Yudhishthira whispered, and Arjuna forced himself to walk out without looking back.

“Performing the duty prescribed by (one’s own) nature, one incurreth no sin.”

Arjuna had wondered from a young age what made a good person.  It seemed everyone had a different answer:  Yudhishthira always told the truth and adhered strictly to all rules and promises; Bhima was courageous and never shied from a fight to protect the innocent; and Drona obeyed his duties every day.

But what would they do now?

No, he knew better than to ask.  He knew what they would do, what they would say.

He surveyed the battlefield bleakly, watching as cousin after cousin of his poured through the frontlines.  He could remember playing at war with Duryodhana, laughing as they teamed up against Bhima, and chasing each other through the gardens.  Duryodhana wasn’t playing at battles now, though, and Arjuna knew that he would have to kill many of the same people he had pretended to kill as a child.

In his heart, he despaired and mourned every one of his cousins and family members on the other side.

Closing his eyes, he said a final farewell and loosed a volley of arrows.

Arjuna and Krishna.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  This is the story from the story planning post last week!  Thanks to Ankitha's suggestions, I was able to come up with a decent idea and explored what Arjuna thinks of dharma.  I chose to add some different sections of his life, notably his meeting with Ekalavya, his exile after seeing Yudhishthira and Draupadi, and the battle with the Kauravas where the Bhagavad Gita takes place.  I tried to examine how he would feel about each of the different aspects of dharma and used quotes from the Bhagavad Gita to emphasize what Krishna would say about each of the incidents.

Bibliography:  Goodreads Quotes.  Web Source.

50 Most Inspiring Quotes from the Bhagavad Gita.  Web Source.

Story Planning: Dharma

• Reading the Bhagavad Gita made me very intrigued about Hindu value systems and what they regard as a "good person"
• I really want to write a story somehow examining this?  I'm having a very hard time trying to put this into a story context though.  I feel like I'm thinking of it more as an essay describing my thoughts rather than a story, but I'm not sure how to make it more into a story.
• Some possibilities I was thinking of was examining Arjuna's actions through this and seeing how and when he violates or follows the principles of dharma, but that also seems kind of boring.  I want something a little more creative.
• Another idea I had was moving these principles into a more modern environment and examining people's actions through there, but this is also rather difficult because I'm not sure whose actions I should examine.  Arjuna's again but just modern?  Not sure how that would work.
• Really I just want to write a story about what a good person according to these principles is but I don't know how to do that.
• I want to maybe talk something about the caste system as well because Krishna says that somebody who does his duty poorly is better than someone who does an exceptional job that isn't his duty.  Kind of plays into Ekalavya and why he's beaten back down rather than praised, but I don't really want to write another story about Ekalavya.
• I could move that principle into a modern context and maybe talk about somebody who wants to do something else but his parents want him to keep up the family business?  So this conflict between what he wants and what he should do?
• Basically I have lots of half formed ideas but no concrete thing I want to write about :( if anyone has any suggestions I would love to hear it.

Arjuna and Krishna.  Web Source.

Bibliography:  Bhagavad Gita:  The Song Celestial translated by Edwin Arnold.  Reading Guide.

Storytelling: One Last Day

“This is the best day of my life,” Radha sighed, smiling happily.  There were flowers draped all over her hair and body, and in her red and gold dress, she looked as radiant as the sun.

He smiled tightly.  If only you knew what I did.

Closing his eyes, he saw what would happen, followed the same thread he had so many times, and watched her as she grew old.

He watched as she waited and pined and remained loyal to only him.

Watched as she sat and prayed.

And wished for him to come back.

But he never did.

And that’s how she died, waiting and waiting for a love that would never return.

He hated watching her future.

“Krishna?” she asked, shyly, tapping his shoulder, jolting his attention back to the present.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he murmured.  “I’m glad you’re happy, that’s all.”  It was true; he’d worked so hard to make this day perfect for her.  He’d arranged for the weather to be breezy and warm, begged the flowers to bloom early, coaxed the cows into behaving on the field, and persuaded all of the gopis to come down to the meadow.

Now, in this gorgeous day, she threw her head back and laughed, full of joy and sparkle and hope, and Krishna fixed the memory in his heart.  He never wanted to forget this day.

“Play the flute!” she said.  “I want to dance!”

And dance she did, as he wove golden melodies and every note glittered and twirled with her.  Nobody could take their eyes off her, least of all Krishna.  He savored every spin and every step.

The future danced with her in Krishna’s eyes, and he saw the armies clashing, the spears twirling with her arms, the shields glinting like her bangles, the screams mixed with his flute.

He saw the destruction of the warriors in the soft grass and fragrant flowers and saw the blood splashed on the mountainside.

He saw a rain of arrows perfectly placed, a figure wheeling a chariot, the flash of a silver sword, and the savage blow of a mace.

He saw kings and princes humbling themselves before him, begging for his help.

He saw his future queens laughing and talking before him, each gazing at him adoringly.

He saw the sage before him, admonishing him, reminding him of his duty.

“You are the savior of Dharma!  You know this is your destiny!”

Yes, he wanted to yell, yes, but I hadn’t met her yet.

He saw himself leaving the next day, shifting the universe and going down the right path.

But he also saw the other path, the one where he stayed, where he refused his destiny, and he saw their short but happy lives, saw a beautiful son and a wonderful daughter.

He saw all this and more, the entire universe, all pasts, presents, and futures, in his eyes, but most of all he saw her lonely figure waiting for him through eternity.

Because he could never pick the other path.

“Dance with me?” she asked, holding her hand out to him.  Her flushed face looked like heaven and he knew that he would come back to this moment every day for the rest of his life.

Tomorrow I will be gone, he thought, and he held her hand for the last time.

Radha and Krishna.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  Radha and Krishna's love story is so sad to me because they love each other so much, but they can never be together.  They lived in the same village together as children, but Krishna was actually divine and related to a princess while Radha was merely the daughter of a villager.  It was impossible for their destinies to be together.  Radha's devotion touched me especially because she is willing to do so much for Krishna, but he can't be with her because his destiny is with the Pandavas.  I wanted to express how hard of a choice it was for him to give her up, and how what he knows of his destiny moves him and influences his decisions.

Bibliography:  Epified Krishna.  Web Source.

Story: Shoot for the Moon

“This is magnificent,” a voice breathed, and I instantly snapped towards it.

I would recognize that voice anywhere.

“How did they do that?” another voice said.  I didn’t know this one, but it sounded like a young boy’s.

I peered through the tree branches and saw them, the sage and his pupil, marveling at my work of art.

Hours and hours of practice had paid off finally, and the dog whined piteously as they stood around it for its mouth was completely shot full of arrows.

None of them hurt the dog in any way, but he had lost his ability to bark or close his mouth at all.

Taking a deep breath, I emerged from the bushes and stood before them proudly.

“Are you the one who produced this miracle?” the man asked.  His student stared in awe, and I swelled with pride.

“Yes, I am,” I said.  “Do you not remember me, teacher?”

The man started and squinted at me.  “I would remember a pupil as talented as this.  Tell me the meaning of what you said.”

“Come,” I said, gesturing towards my hut.  I showed them the statue I had carved of the famed sage, Drona.

“You rejected me before when I asked to be your pupil.  Now look how far I have come.  Your statue has been here the whole time, watching me and guiding me to be the best archer in the world.”

I felt my heart beat like a drum in my chest.  This was the moment I had been waiting for, all these long years alone in the forest, practicing day and night.

“Will you take me as your pupil now?  I would do anything to be your student!”

To my surprise, he burst out laughing.  “You?  Be my pupil?  I could not possibly teach you.  I only teach Kshatriyas, ones who are worthy of being taught the martial arts.  I do not know what fluke caused this miracle to be created by you, but it is no indication of your worth.

You must prove yourself to me through a greater sacrifice.  I demand that you cut off the thumb of your right hand.  If you can do this for me, I will teach you everything I know.”

I felt all my breath rush out of my lungs.  If I cut off my right thumb, his teachings would be useless to me.  Without the thumb on my right hand, I could not steady my bow.  My aim would be ruined.

“B-But that will . . .” the boy beside Drona stammered.

Drona nodded grimly.  “Sacrifices must always be hard.  Or they are not true sacrifices.”

White hot anger ran through my veins.  He knew exactly what he was doing to me, to my talent, to my potential.  This was not a sacrifice.  It was my death.

“No,” I whispered.  And then again, louder, “No, I will not do it.  I will not cut off my thumb to please your cruel whim.”

He smirked derisively.  “I thought you said you would do anything to be my student.  See what your promises are worth.”

“I will not do something so blatantly meant to destroy me.  If I cut off my thumb, I would be useless as your student.  No, I did not need your help to create this, and I will not need it now.”

Without another word, I turned around and stalked away before they could see the tears that dripped down my face.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Every arrow I shot hit its target.  I had set up a practice dummy made of an old log with branches lashed to it and I shot arrows at it furiously.

Within minutes, it had fallen to pieces from the onslaught and I stood there panting, wanting something more to kill.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps through the trees and I spun around and nocked an arrow.

“Who goes there?” I snarled.  “Answer, or I will shoot!”

“Please, I only came to see you,” a voice called, and the boy from earlier emerged from the bushes.

I didn’t lower my bow.  “Who are you?  Why do you want to see me?”

He stood awkwardly, but I noticed the only part of his body at ease was the arm holding his bow.

“I don’t think it’s fair what Drona did to you.  I know you wanted to train with him, but I was wondering if you would train with me instead.”

“And who are you that I should want to train with you?” I said contemptuously, but inside I was already wondering what it would be like to practice against someone other than myself.

“I am Prince Arjuna of Hastinapura, son of Indra,” he proclaimed proudly.  “I thought I was the best archer in the world, but you have shown me my arrogance.  Please, teach me!”

I breathed and relaxed, finally lowering my bow.

“You would really want to train with me?  I’m not a Kshatriya, you know.  I would barely be worthy to clean your feet.”

“I don’t care!  I will never be the best if I don’t practice with those better than I am.  I want to know how you did that.”

“You want to know how I did the trick with the dog?  It will take you months of practice at least, if not years.  I’ll work you harder than Drona ever did,” I warned, hoping against hope.

His eyes gleamed with ambition, and I knew I needn’t have worried.

“Show me.”

Arjuna.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  I was really saddened by the story in the Epified Mahabharata about Drona's cruel treatment of Ekalavya so I wanted to rewrite the story into what I thought should have happened.  In the original, Ekalavya does cut his own thumb off and is prevented from becoming the legend he should have been.  Obviously, I did not do that in my version, and I also made Arjuna more sympathetic toward Ekalavya's plight.

Bibliography:  Epified Mahabharata.  Ekalavya's Story.  Web Source.

Story: A Beautiful Death

“You could be rich, you know,” she said.

“Gold, gems, castles, anything your heart desires and more, everything you never even knew you could have.”

“I don’t want money,” he murmured.

“No?  Then what do you want?  Tell me and I will make it yours.”

When he didn’t respond, she forged on.  “Do you want a pretty wife who could make you lord of vast lands?  Or do you want to be lord in your own right?  You could rule over half the kingdom.”

She looked at him askance.

“You could even be king.”

He smiled.  “I won’t give you what you want.”

She frowned, her beautiful face suddenly turned petulant and cruel.  He knew she didn’t have much experience with people telling her no.

“If you’re done, I’ll be going now,” he told her gently.

“Wait.”  She stood and faced him fully for the first time, her eyes boring into his.

“You’re doomed; you know that right?  There’s no way you can win.”

He nodded.

“So why are you still fighting?  Switch sides!  Win!  Live!  Don’t die for no reason!” she cried, for the first time bleeding some emotion into her voice.

He paused.  “Because he’s everything to me.”

“So, it’s to be war then,” the king said, taking one look at his face as he strode into the throne room.

He remembered her offer and how earnestly she had pleaded and the way she had stroked his hand and asked.

“You could be king,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, dragging himself from the memories.  “There will be no peace.”  Not on any acceptable terms, anyway.

The king looked at him for a long time.

“We’ll need to move some troops over to the mountain passes.  She’ll have to attack from air there; she has no other option.”

“Well, don’t forget, we have to consider that she has her mercenaries too.  They’ll be able to flank and go through the side…”

Words washed over him, but he didn’t see the map or battle plans, only her face.

There was red everywhere, staining the side of his armor, coating the end of his sword, lapping at the edges of the trees, and whirling through the air.

There was no time to rest.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a full breath.

There was only slicing metal and hoarse screams and biting pain.

He spun and hacked and butchered until there were corpses piled high, but still they came and then the others broke.

Turning, he yelled at them to come back to hold the line, but nobody paid any attention.

Suddenly his foot caught in the mud, and he fell heavily and felt the sun on his back.

He tried to scramble backwards, but there was no use and no time.

Instinctively, he raised an arm against the flames, and the last thing he saw was the gleaming scales and pointed teeth of her dragon and her lovely, regretful face.

Only smoke and ashes remained of the ragtag army.  They stung her throat, but she refused to turn back.

“No survivors?” she asked although she knew the answer.

“None,” he answered viciously.  “A good death for all of them, my queen.”

Yes, she thought, remembering his calm face.  A good death.

Dragon breathing fire.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  This is Game of Thrones meets Mahabharata basically.  Dr. Gibbs pointed out the similarities between Karna and Jon Snow so I had to write a story about it.  I obviously took some liberties with what happened in Game of Thrones, namely about what happens with Robb and Jon and Daenerys but I tried to keep it within the realms of possibility.  Since Karna was tempted and wooed by the other side, I added references to that between Daenerys and Jon and also included the trapped and vulnerable nature of Karna's death in Jon's fate.

Bibliography:  R.K. Narayan.  Mahabharata.  Reading Guide.

Story: Gamblers Anonymous

“Welcome to Gamblers Anonymous!” the bright, cheery lady chirped.  “Let’s all go around the room and say our first names and why we’re here, shall we?  I’ll start!  I’m Anna and I lost my house playing poker!”

“I’m James and I’m here because the court ordered me to be after I started a prison fight betting ring.”

“I’m David and I started selling drugs to feed my addiction.”

“I’m Bri and I lost my entire family and turned to alcoholism after I gambled away my retirement fund and children’s college fund.”

“I’m Yudhishthira and I lost my wealth, my kingdom, my servants, my brothers, myself, and worst of all, my wife, on a dice game,” he sighed, with his face in his hands.

Everybody in the room turned and stared at him, aghast.

“Damn, dude, you had a kingdom?” James muttered.

“You had a wife?” David said.

“Yes,” he cried, “and I lost them all because of my stupidity.”

“Oh, wow, that sucks,” Anna said brightly.  “Why don’t you elaborate a little more on what exactly happened?”

“Well, my cousin invited me to a dice game.  I knew he had something up his sleeve because he never wants to play dice, but I had no choice but to accept.  So I—“

“Wait, hold up, you had to accept?” asked Bri.

“Yes, or it would have been a stain on my honor.  A Kshatriya never backs down from a challenge.”  The group looked even more confused than before, but he ignored them and continued.  “I headed over to his palace, but when I arrived he refused to play me.  Instead, he had his uncle Sakuni play for him.  Sakuni is wily and clever at dice games, and soon he was winning everything from me.  I should have stopped before it got too much, but I couldn’t!  A frenzy had come over me, and I had to keep playing.  I kept raising and raising the stakes until soon I stood before him a pauper, and still I could not stop playing.  Every time I rolled I thought this would be the time I won it all back.  But again and again he won until even my family had been won by him, as if they were mere slaves!  Soon the only thing that was left to me was my beautiful wife until even she had been won.  She would have been forced to disrobe too, but thankfully the Lord Krishna prevented that from happening.  Alas, I still had nothing, and that is why I sit before you now.  I hope to find solace here and recover from my ruinous habits.”

A profound silence greeted his statements.  None of them knew what to say, but all knew how he had felt while playing the game.

“Did you say you were playing against a man named Sakuni?” a deep voice suddenly growled from the back of the room.

Yudhishthira turned to see who it was and was greeted by a towering hulk of a man gripping a golden mace.  Next to him stood a slim, tall man absentmindedly playing with the strings of a bow almost as tall as he was, the opposite of the other in every way, and yet they seemed exceedingly similar somehow.

“Who are you?  How do you know Sakuni?”

“I am Bhima and my brother is Arjuna.  He cheated us out of everything we have too, just like you.  Once my brother and I were famous warriors, known throughout the land.  Then, Sakuni staked 13 years of exile on a dice game with us, and we lost.  We have been in hiding ever since, waiting for the day when we can strike back against him and take back what we lost.”

“You say you know his nephew, do you not?” Arjuna said thoughtfully.  “Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.”

“B-But you do not understand.  He is protected by that very same nephew and his friends.  There is no way we could reach him.”

The two brothers looked at each other grimly and stroked their weapons.

“Oh, we know a way,” Bhima smiled.

“What do you say, Yudhishthira?” Arjuna asked.  “Are you in?”

He hesitated.

“I—“

“Oh, come on, man, just go!  Get back your wife and kingdom!”  James threw open the door and gestured outside.  “You can’t just waste the chance to make everything right!”

He took a deep breath and nodded at Arjuna.  “I’m in.  Let’s go.”  As they walked out the door, the other gamblers cheered and made for the door as well, leaving behind a pleading Anna muttering something about court-mandated rehab.

Hand holding playing cards.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  This is based on the story of Yudhishthira's gambling with the Kauravas leading him into exile.  I lifted him into a more modern setting but kept much of the details although in this one Arjuna and Bhima are not his siblings and he gambled away other brothers.  I put Yudhishthira into Gamblers Anonymous since it seemed like he had a serious problem.

Bibliography:  R.K. Narayan.  Mahabharata.  Reading Guide.

Story: Life after Life

There’s blood in my hair again.

I run the wet, sticky strands through my fingers and flick the droplets on the ground.

And they come at me again, swords raised and howling.

Eyes closed, I swing my sword and it finds its mark, and I can hear the bounce of its head, feel the cool breeze of my sword, and taste the blood on my lips.

This is why my mothers created me, so that I could slice and chop and hack, but most of all kill and kill and kill.

It’s all I know.

I open my eyes and look around at the ruined tangle of bodies, and—

There’s blood in my hair again.

I don’t remember when he appears.  One moment I’m alone like I always am, and then suddenly he’s by my side, his slashes perfectly in time with mine.

One glance and I know he’s a god.

“You fight well,” he says when it’s all over and I say nothing because I know it’s true.

His sword flashes up and I turn it aside on instinct but slow, almost too slow, and he smiles.

“How about a practice duel?” he asks, and in answer I swing my sword at his neck.

He laughs as he jumps back, and the fight is on.

It’s hours before we stop, both too exhausted to even hold our swords up anymore.

“Rematch tomorrow?” he pants.

“Rematch,” I reply hoarsely and I watch him leave.

We duel like this every day and I start to memorize him, his attack patterns, the stubble on his cheeks, the quick spin of his blade, the flecks in his eyes, until I think I could close my eyes for an eternity and still have his image in my mind.

I’ve never met someone like him before, someone who doesn’t care that I wield swords instead of paintbrushes, someone who cracks jokes while blood spews, someone who can make me smile.

I never laughed before I met him.

I start to count the hours, minutes before he arrives.

I dream of him at night and when he comes back, I feel electrified.

One day, he’s different when he visits.  He’s with another man, who looks like him.  Both are distraught, and I feel something icy on my spine.

“Have you seen her?” the other one asks and inwardly, I know, I know.

“Seen who?”

“My wife,” he says, and I can feel something hard inside me shatter into a million tiny drops.

“No, I haven’t.  I don’t see anyone around here.”  Except for you.

He lets out a long breath.  “I see.  She was kidnapped from me, and I’m trying to find her.  I won’t be back for a while.  I’ll see you then though.”

“Y-You’ll be back?”

“Of course.”  He stopped and grabbed my hand.  “Maybe we can talk then.”

When he leaves, I can still feel the imprint of his palm in my skin.

And so I wait and wait and wait.  They don’t come to fight me anymore.  My mothers don’t need me anymore.

So I sit by the place where we dueled, and wait.

Days turn to weeks turn to months turn to years.

But I don’t mind.

I would wait a thousand lifetimes to see his face again.

Waiting.  Web Source.

Bibliography:  "Vaishno Devi:  Goddess of the Hills" by Aruna Balakrishna Singh and Durgesh Velhal.  Reading Guide.

Author's Note:  This story is based on the legend of Vaishno Devi or Vaishnavari, a goddess who was created by Lakshmi, Parvati, and Saraswati, the consorts of Vishnu, Shiva, and Brahma respectively.  She was created to deal with rakshasas terrorizing the land, and eventually was reborn into a girl who fell in love with Vishnu.  He agreed to come back and take her as his wife but she did not recognize him when he came to her in the form of an old man, so he said he would come later when she was ready.  To prove herself, she traveled deep into the mountains and meditated, but another man came by and fell in love with her.  As she had promised herself to Vishnu, she refused the other man, but his desire was too much and she eventually killed him.  She then turned herself into stone to wait for Vishnu to come back for her.  I tried to keep the big similarities, so she references her "mothers" and fights demons in the beginning, but I took out the reincarnation part.  I tried to emphasize her crazy passion for him because she seemed incredibly devoted in the story.

Story: The End

Dr. Manhattan to Ozymandias from Watchmen by Alan Moore.  Web Source.

They think it’s out of grief that I’ve been here for two days.

They think that I can’t stand for someone to take the body from me, that I don’t want anyone to see him like this, hanging like an ornament by his own cape, decked out in costume like he hadn’t been for years.

They’re right but for the wrong reasons.

I sighed and looked him right in his glass eyes.  “You always said you’d die with a smile on your face.”

Only my brother would go to his death grinning like an idiot.

 “Oh, Rama, please save me!” the girl cried as Ravana, the villain we’d been chasing for months, cackled and dashed  up the building with her in his arms.

Glancing at my brother, I nodded once and he immediately sprang up the building.

I cracked my knuckles and smiled at the henchmen surrounding me. 

POW!

In a few short seconds, most of them were unconscious or begging for mercy.  My work here done, I scanned the top of the tower for my brother, only to spot Ravana waving a red detonator and laughing as my brother climbed furiously up the building.

“You’ll never catch me alive!” he screamed, pressing the detonator as my brother made a last leap towards him.

“NO!” I yelled, racing towards the building.

But I was too late, and the tower exploded outwards, throwing me into a telephone pole.

When I opened my eyes, everything was blanketed in concrete dust and glass shards.

“Rama?  Where are you?” I called, knowing he couldn’t possibly have died.

I fumbled my way towards the center of the explosion, and suddenly I saw them, two figures intertwined together, my brother and the mayor’s daughter kissing like they had been searching for each other for years.

That picture haunted  the city hall for years afterward.  The mayor immediately gave his permission for his daughter, Sita, to marry Rama.

They were perfectly beautiful together.  Everybody was in favor of the marriage except for me.

“You hardly even know her!” I argued, even on the day of his wedding.  “You rescued her once, and now you’re going to marry her?”

“It’s true love,” Rama sighed, fixing his hair.  “You wouldn’t understand, Lakshmana.  I feel like I’ve known her for ages.  She and I have never run out of things to talk about.”

“That’s because you’ve had a total of two conversations,” I muttered, but he was dreaming again, smiling about Sita’s dark hair and brown eyes.

♦        ♦        ♦

I can still see her, shining in her dress, blushing prettily when I kissed her.

The wedding was the most perfect moment of my life, when I was drunk off her instead of bad tequila, and the years that followed were bliss, when I could hold my sons’ hands instead of cans of beer.

If I could do it all again, would I still marry her?  Sometimes in my desperation, stumbling home at 5 AM, so drunk I walk down the wrong street, I wonder if I would have been better off.

“You need to stop doing this,” she whispered furiously with red-rimmed eyes as I fell through the door.

“But the kids love it when I break down the door,” I slurred, using the counter to steady myself.

“This isn’t a joke!” she hissed.  “I can’t believe you have the nerve to go drink again right after you promised me you would stop.  I’m sick of this kind of behavior, Rama.  Rama!”

I hauled myself to the couch and threw myself down.  “I’m listening.  You know I can take care of myself.  If you want someone who just does whatever you ask, why don’t you just go back to him, anyway.”

“This isn’t about him!  This is about you!  Your behavior doesn’t just affect you; it affects me and your sons as well.  Think about what people say when they see you drunk in the bar every night!”

“Think about what they said when they saw you having dinner with that creep.”

“It was a mistake and it was a long time ago, Rama.  Why can’t you just forget about it?!”

It was the same argument every night.  I would say, “Because I love you,” and she would say “I know you do,” through her tears and we would go to bed and make up and everything would be okay but nothing was ever okay.

I didn’t want to pretend anymore.

“Because I can’t!” I screamed.  “I can’t forget any of it!  Why do you want to forget?  Why can’t we remember?”

“Because it’s over!  It’s in the past and you can’t change it!”

“Then get out!  If you want to forget so bad, then just leave.”

“Rama, you can’t mean—“

“I said, GET OUT!”

She did it.  She left and she took my boys and now only I remained in this cavernous house.  I wandered through it until I found myself where I always ended up, sitting in my closet looking at my superhero costume.

When I closed my eyes, I could still see it all:  flying through the clouds with Lakshmana, blood spraying from a henchman’s face, faces contorted as the building tumbled down.

If I slipped far enough into my memories, I could feel her lips on mine, soft even through the dust, could still grip her hands, soft even with the blood and grime.

The suit was rough when I pulled it on and tight in places I didn’t remember, but it still fit well enough.

Smiling, I felt the breeze on my face one last time and jumped towards a twinkling river in the sky with a green bank and a man I didn’t recognize but knew.

Author's Note:  As you can probably tell, the story is very loosely based on the last half of the Ramayana when Rama saves Sita from Ravana and later exiles her.  His actions puzzled and angered me so I tried to explain them in this story.  The superhero aspect was inspired by the comic I drew the picture from, Watchmen by Alan Moore.  I recently watched the movie and loved it, so I just had to incorporate superheroes somewhere in the story.  I tried to allude to elements of the Ramayana like them searching for each other for years and Rama's ascendance to heaven although I didn't put a lot of references in.

Bibliography:  Public Domain Ramayana.  Web Source.

Story: Vengeance

Vengeance

                Almost every culture has a legend about a vengeful female demon.  The Chinese speak of nu gui, females who have been sexually assaulted and return to seek their revenge, the Spanish whisper about La Llorona, a woman in a white dress who killed her children after her husband has an affair, and in Cambodia they talk about Krasue, a decapitated beautiful woman.

                Do you ever wonder why that is?

                I am the original scorned woman, and all of those myths originate from me.

                When I was young, I was the delight of my family.  I was the most beautiful person in all the land and with my powerful father I could have had any man in the kingdom.  I was content and everyone served me.

                But the heart wants what the heart wants, and everything changed when I met him.

                Rama was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, more beautiful than my brother or my father.  He had the most gorgeous brown eyes that felt like they were staring into my soul. . . I can still see them when I dream.

                But I digress.

                I waited days to speak to him, spying on him through the trees as he hunted and swam.  Every day I fell more and more in love with him until one day I knew I had to do something.

                So I appeared to him and asked him for his hand in marriage, never thinking that he could turn me down.  After all, no one had ever done that.

                He did worse than reject me though; he outright laughed at me.  He refused to even consider my proposal saying that he would never betray his beautiful wife, Sita, pointing at her through the trees.  I protested saying that she was nowhere near as beautiful as I was, but he only laughed again.

                I hate being laughed at.

                Stalking away from him, I vowed revenge.  Nobody would hurt me this way and get away with it.  If I couldn’t have what I wanted, neither could he.  I would take away that which he loved most—his wife.

                Not one for patience, I flew at Sita immediately when I saw she was alone, hoping to cause as much damage as possible.  To my surprise, someone stopped me and threw me back.  When I stood up again, I could feel blood dripping down my face, and I screamed.

                “What have you done to me?!”  My face, my beautiful face, was gone.  Crying tears of humiliation, I ran and swore revenge anew.

                I persuaded some demons to attack Rama and his brother and carry off Sita but somehow they managed to defeat them all.  How I did not know, but I knew of one more way to carry out my revenge.

                I called on my brother, one of the most powerful demons, to help me.  With his cunning and my wrath, I knew we could never fail.  All I had to promise him was the girl.  I agreed readily.

                She wasn’t the one I wanted anyway.

Rama spurns Shurpanakha.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  I didn't take many liberties with the plot of the story except for using the version where Rama doesn't tell Shurpanakha to seek Lakshmana and instead he intervenes when she attacks Sita.  I also drew parallels between her story and other folktales featuring vengeful women.

Bibliography:  Public Domain Ramayana.  Web Source.

Story: Uncle Tom's Holiday Home in the Woods

Uncle Tom’s Holiday Home in the Woods

A group of teenagers laughed on a camera screen in a gleaming observatory.  Workers watched the proceedings while typing down notes and muttering orders into headpieces.  In the back of the room, a bald man stood with his hands on his hips.
“Sir?” a scientist asked.
The man slowly nodded and suddenly all of the cameras turned black.

“What just happened?” Julie screamed.  All of the lights had suddenly gone out, even the bare, dim bulb by the stairs.
I quickly turned on my phone’s flashlight to add some more light to the room.  As I did, I noticed that there was no cell signal anymore.
“Um, wasn’t there like four bars here before?” I piped up.  “I’m suddenly not getting any signal at all.”
 “Yeah, and there’s a cell phone tower right there!” George pointed out.  I looked out the window, and sure enough, there was a bright red blinking over the hill.  Except this light was a lot more orange than most cell phone towers and was it coming closer—
“That’s not a cell phone tower!” I yelled.  “The woods are on fire, come on, we have to get out of here!”

“Launch,” the man said quietly.

Just as we all dashed out of the cabin, a fireball slammed into the far wall, completely obliterating it.
“What the hell, how was that even possible?” Julie yelped.  “Where did this fire even come from anyway?”
“Man, Uncle Tom is going to be furious,” Ryan sighed.
“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Alice said.

“They’re ready to be released, sir,” the technician said, swiveling around in his chair.
“Good,” the man replied.  “On the count of three—1, 2, 3.”
And in the dark, the cage doors slowly creaked open and growls filled the air.

“I don’t remember seeing this part when we arrived,” Julie muttered, staring wide-eyed at the forest around her.
“I think we came up on the other side,” Ryan said, although he too looked confused.
“You tell us, man, haven’t you been coming here since you were six?” George asked.
“Well, actually—“ Ryan started when suddenly a projectile of some sort dive bombed his head, luckily veering off and missing at the last second.
“What was that?” Alice screeched, and then all hell broke loose.
A million of those projectiles—birds, I suddenly realized—burst from the trees, squawking and batting our heads with their wings.  Everybody immediately took off running in completely different directions, leaving only me to try and get everyone to stay together.
“Guys, wait we can’t split up!  We can fend them off if we work together!”  Unfortunately, nobody was listening anymore.  Cursing, I took off in what I hoped was north.  Maybe there were some people that could help.

Julie dashed off hysterically, batting at the birds and screaming at the top of her lungs.  Finally, however, they left her alone and flew off, probably to torment some other people.
Speaking of other people, where were her friends?  Oh, wait, someone was right there, and she waved frantically at him, but wait was he happy to see her or was that an axe—
“AHHHH!!” she screamed as the axe came down in a spray of blood.

The ground in front of George suddenly gave way to what looked like a swamp, complete with reeds and creepy logs.  He sank further and further and tried to turn around, but it was too late; his legs were stuck deep in the marsh.  As he struggled to free himself, masked and robed figures poured out of the woods, chanting ominously.
 “Hello?  Hey, seriously, this isn’t funny, come on, I really need—blrgh,” he pleaded, as he sank below the surface.  Their chant continued unheeded as his hand grasped frantically at the air and then finally stilled.

As a former track runner, Alice had been off like a firing gun and she ran and ran and ran until finally she tired and stopped to catch her breath.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
She glanced around for the source of the noise, but could find nothing except a strange blinking, and oh crap—
The ground exploded underneath her, and for a few seconds it rained blood and flesh.

Finally, I had escaped the birds and spotted a dark building in the distance.  Things were finally picking up, or so I thought when something hit my head.  Except this one stayed on my neck and I suddenly felt a sharp bite—
“AUGH!” I screamed, and tore it off, not even feeling the tear on my skin.  A horde of these vampire bats came out at me then, and I ran for the safety of the building.
I ripped open the door and ran in, hearing the thuds of the bats on the other side.  Gasping, I looked around, and saw instead of a dilapidated building, what looked like a gleaming medical facility with cages and cameras everywhere—
Suddenly, everything went black.

When I came to, I was bound and gagged next to Ryan who was still out cold on a giant stone altar.  In the distance, a giant flame flickered multi-colored, first blue, then purple, and on and on.  Black robed figures held hands and danced around it.  Beside us, I could see Julie’s decapitated head, George’s body encased in mud, and a finger with Alice’s favorite nail polish on it.  I turned my head and threw up, the sounds finally waking up Ryan.
“Hello, boys,” a deep voice said.  “How are you doing, Ryan?”
“Uncle Tom?!” Ryan gasped, as the man stepped out of the shadows.  “What is happening here?”
“Ritual sacrifice to appease the gods.  I didn’t want to have to do it, but, you know, gotta preserve the world.”
“But, I’m your nephew!” Ryan pleaded.
Uncle Tom shrugged.  “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.  Goodbye, kids.”  As he stalked away, the figures surrounded us, filling the air with our screams.

Author's Note:  I took the inspiration for this story from the movie Cabin in the Woods, a horror movie spoof that revolves around the typical group of teen cliches stuck in a mysterious cabin.  Rather than using the movie's host of monsters, however, I used Tom Gauld's map to flesh out the horrors my characters would encounter.

Bibliography:  "Map of the Area Surrounding our Holiday Home," a cartoon by Tom Gauld from his book ROBOTS, MONSTERS Etc.  Web Source.

Image Information:  Cabin in the Woods movie poster.  Web Source.