HELLO MAHABHARATA

50. Aphotic

Aphotic. Lacking light, especially not reached by sunlight. with a Greek prefix ‘a’ and photic layers.

FARAWAY THE ILLUMINATION OF THE LAMP whose agen old glazed earthenware youth was camouflaged by the albino soots and burnt mustard oil adhesive, the diya in its mundane routine to enlighten the path was proud to cradle the glow of abendrot flame, which was ample to lighten the sandstone pathways of the cerulean and ivory marble palace and it's grandiose entrance.

A dusty and jute patch sewn from the straps, an earthy brown satchel with some fueling agents for the journey including roasted peanuts, coconut and sauteed gramflour ladoo, apples and raspberries with the two vials of celestial medicine for tiredness and blisters and one copper carafe with the plashing liquid of a fermented honey ale for the chilling winds of Kartik, were stored safely in that forgotten old fabric.

The gurgling splashes of ale playing in the confinement of dark copper were resonating in the ears, matching the lighting speed of the mighty horse as pure as the sheets of snow on a valley whose gallops echoed in tranquility of deepened midnight. The warping and blinding imperialism of those veils of poltergeist fog in the hours before the madrugada were a consideration for the rider of that brawny and skilled stallion who jumped the fresh lichen puddles around the oakwoods. Hence the reliance was on the embrace of a tawny woollen shawl that was used to cover the ancient, dust tasting, spider web emblazoned ochre parchment that was a casting of the aryavrata map, precisely focusing the regions around western and south western kingdoms.

When the eerily silent surroundings screaming of the night crickets rings, crackling of deathly vapours and the howling of night wafts noticed that the once livid and threatening yonder was surrendering to the paints in hue of scarlets, fuschias, salmon and the azure sky gathered those velvety fluff of clouds from horizon, the crimson ball of fire was melting the maze of mist. So the fearless rider of the violet eyed horse fastened the prancing by a click of halter ropes commencing the journey in a rush in contrast to night with the blessings of braham muhrat.

There was no break that midnight for blaming it on the eldritch night and a curiosity of cat. The dawn assisted in the consumption of some fuel in the stomach but it was not more than a half an hour or so, providing resting hours to the horse and refreshments. The journey shall take two days, the arrival at the day of third, conclusion was made after the close study of the map that rested on the patch of the grazed grass land and the penumbra of mulberry tree wiggled on the old parchment. The day passed with the blurred sights of the left distance on each side and the waning night was manageable somehow with the sips of ale to warm out the blue tints of cold on fingers.

I need answers.

Thirst or desperation, are merely two words that germinate from the aches.
The satchel was crossed around body and the swing of legs in a swift were a code for the horse to tear the air and head into the direction, the black hue of woolen shawl appeared grey as the sunlight bathed the fabric floating in the winds accelerated by the horse's speed as fast as a bolt of lighting. The heart of determination can generate catastrophe, but here it was just on its way to crash the place of solace. The travel of two days and one night, all in haste, reaching the suburbs was the breath of fresh air fragrant in blooms of parijat. The distance was covered almost earlier with the arrival noted in the midnight hours of second day.