Kama: Liberation(Vol-II)

Chapter 14. Jaya

"He who is Krishna
He who is Amun
He who is Keshava
Son of Kalika,
Aryam."

****

Bringing relief to Ishgar, nectar rained before the dawn. In the arms of the retreating night, clouds gathered, showering the sweetness of elixir. The sun's glaring rays filtered to a sublime kiss, embracing the soil without the burning heat. Cuckoos chirped, eagles soaring high.

Soaking-wet after bathing in the waters of midnight, Senapati Aryamna stood basking in the light of a new morning. He wasn't carrying a spear unlike other days. Instead, his slender fingers were wrapped around a golden flute. It glimmered against his earthy sorrel skin. With a quivering grip, he brought the instrument to his lips. The whisper of lips wove a melody, waking up the sleeping fauna.

Like Rudra had given up herbs and dance following the death of Petra, the blue-eyed prince too had given up his all- his music, his throne; even his identity was snatched upon the descent of his wife to a realm of nothingness. Now, when the Four were again united, perhaps the former prince could peel off a layer of the curse.

Aryamna touched the flute to his forehead. This was his god too, like Nadira. The music it sang was to win over the princess's heart.

"Sixteen and young, hot blood." Aryamna chuckled. "Now forgotten and cursed."

But the world must remember.

The sky cleared from the greyness of night to the red of sindur. From behind the orange clouds, the sun peeked at him. Aryam stared at the ball of fire, recalling the smiling face of his father Madhavan.

"Bless me, Baba," tears rolled down his cheeks, "I must go back to the world. I must reveal myself."

It was the moment he had waited for years. Standing at the precipice of greatness, fears engulfed his divine core. Maybe someone like him was also subjected to the imperfections of a mortal body, a flickering mind.

A smile was carved on the sunny clouds, fluffy puffs symbolic of eyes. Aryamna bowed to the transcendental image of his father.

"I, Rajan Aryam, will make you proud, Baba."

****

The mages gathered to see off the Rajan and his bodyguard. Indumala embraced her friends, locking them in her cocoon of care and warmth, and promised to meet them soon. Radha was there too. She still couldn't match her gaze with Indumala. Not due to her failure in Revat, though. The shame of attempted suicide weighed on her shoulders. Yet, she mustered the courage to give Indumala a loving peck on the cheeks.

"I will be stronger," she told the victorious mage.

Time was slipping. Even though it hurt a little, Indumala knew she had to return to the palace. It was her home now. Well, wherever Rudra would go, she would follow like a loyal shadow.

Just like he never ceased to admire her. The camphor-white Rajan stole every chance to stare at his beloved. After all, she was dressed not in armours, neither in simple garbs, but bedecked in jewels like a princess. A garland of flowers rested on her head, curls coiling around the green stem. Her open hair floated like waves upon a wide shore, forehead adorned with sandalwood. Matching the subtle pink of her lips was a muslin blouse hugging her petite figure. Her navel was left bare.