Nothing's Conventional About Us

XXX ~ Violet

There is beauty in being all bright and alive, 
There is even more beauty in 
Watching it bloom. 
But what many do not notice, 
Is the gloom that it overshadows,
Violet wrapping bright over it all,
Painting a beautiful beginning
Over blood, over secrets, over vengeance.

Violet 

The city that rose in a cloud of magic and dust wove together too many fables of beauty and prosperity into one unbelievable, undeniable reality. The entirety of Aryavarta gaped and gasped and whispered. Bards sang on it, tavern-goers bet on it, ladies gossiped about it and kings looked with envy. 

Hastinapura did too, and the conversation between the eldest Kaurava Prince and his closest advisor and mentor, his beloved maternal uncle, this fine morning, stood testament to that. 

"I refuse to believe that they turned that wretched land of beasts and death and darkness into a glowing, perfect city.", the Prince, maybe the heir to the throne of Hastinapura, now, scoffed, indeed refusing to believe in facts, as attendants scurried about him, getting him readied for yet another day at the royal household. "They say that even the streets are made of fine, shining stone that illuminates the paths with moonlight even at night but never glints the sun bright enough to blind during the day. What manner of weird, paradoxical description is that?"

"That", his maternal uncle, the so-called crown of Gandhar, cleared his throat and stroked his beard, just once, in a tense motion, as he spoke, his eyes lost in a blank stare at the carpet, "Is the very probable truth of Indraprastha - the City of the Gods, they call it now."

He held up a long scroll in his hand, a report from somewhere, and began reading it aloud, "This city is a wonder.", the quasi-king looked up to study his nephew's face in the mirror.

It remained clean of expressions as of yet.

He continued reading, "Waterways criss-cross the city in the same planned pattern as the stone paths, with trees of shade, fruits and blossoms, as well as decorative and many such flora lining both sides of each. There are modes of public transportation available in both ways, which are run by the locals themselves, for minimal fares. They say that the amount of passengers, ease of traversing and unbelievably low cost of heavenly living allows them to run their businesses in a way convenient for everyone. 

Furthermore, there are organisations managing each trade. One for the public carts and horses. One for the boats. One that runs the city market which is always full to the brim with equal measure of domestic, locally grown and made produce and products, as it is with exotic goods imported from faraway lands that no one had even heard of before. The price of import almost challenges sanity with how low they are. Same logic there too - the huge amount of trade compensates for the individual price of goods. 

There are organizations with duties to manage everything in the city - maintaining cleanliness of every place, providing required personal, domestic or professional services, educational facilities for everything from warfare training, every known form of art, to textual education, with respect to or irrespective of gender or birth.

There is a regular influx of populace from almost everywhere - tribals to foreigners to former residents of other villages, towns or cities from across Aryavarta. Every trade thrives with the influx of people, and yet the city does not even look so much as clumsy. 

It keeps expanding with all its flawless infrastructure. More public bath-houses of awestriking beauty and facilities fit for nobility, all for minimal fares. More granaries, diners, trade-centres and taverns; more greenhouses, groves, orchards and gardens; more entertainment centres - places for every form of art to thrive; more power-houses that somehow harness the sun and the wind and all that abundance of water into light for the night-time, making the streets and residents safer than ever.