"I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn."
- Anne Frank
It wasn't just simply said, "A pen is mightier than sword." As the writers hold their pens, they don't just write. They create a whole new world. A wor...
Written by: VELLIGal Achiever: The WARRIORS OF INK Contest - SET 2 (Category: 2-4 years)
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The Gupta Empire stretched from the Indus River in the west to the Bengal region in the east, and from the Himalayan foothills in the north to the Narmada River in the south as Samudragupta's mighty and omniscient son Chandragupta II, also known by his title Vikramaditya, ascended the throne. He was said to be an ideal ruler and his empire was the bellwether of a peaceful and prosperous kingdom. Word spreads faster than wildfire. Every person breathing in the honeysweet air of Bharatvarsha (India) knew of the king's profound knowledge.
Many nights ago in the outskirts of Ujjain, Mansha and his friend Giri gossiped among themselves perched upon one of the banyan trees when they noticed the legendary ruler walking towards the home of his neighbor Baital. His firm steps produced a crisp sound as he walked over the dead burnt autumn leaves.
"What is Dev-raja doing here in this dark deserted place?" Giri, one of the bats, asked irritated by the intrusion of the royal being.
Mansha whispered, "I've heard that the crooked vamachari of the North has tricked Vikramaditya into capturing a vetala for the well being of his subjects."
"The tantric sorcerer whose half set of teeth is broken and the ones which are left have rotten?"
The former nods in affirmation.
"Why would our sharp-witted Maharaja fall prey to that darned vamachari's lies?"
"He did not. It was his wife who fell for his words and promised him that her husband, our Dev-raja would do what it takes to ensure the safety of the Gupta Empire."
Their conversation mellowed down as the mighty king strode among the dead bodies and the old fatigued trees. The branches hung low like the sunken cheeks of an eighty year old man; devoid of any leaves like his hairless head and were awaiting their death.
Vikramaditya inspected the big banyan tree in the middle looking for the celestial spirit. His eyes like that of an eagle finding his prey hung upside down on one of the lower branches. His feathery partly white and partly black wings covered his corpse as he slept peacefully.
He jumped and tried pulling the Baital by his wings but to his surprise the celestial being, who was sleeping like a dead man didn't budge an inch from his position nor did he wake up. Dumbfounded, he made a second attempt, a third attempt, a fourth one...Twenty attempts later he huffed and sat on the ground cross legged. Gone was the elegant and mighty king, in his place a tired and out of breath Chandragupta sat whose gold sewn long sleeved tunic was covered in dirt and grease and his face covered with sweat and dust. He pushed the back the hair which were sticking to his face.
