SHASTRAGNI

Let me take you away from reality for a while. Away from this pandemic, fear of diseases and death of near ones. Away to a place where you don’t have to hear about the wildfires, dying forests, depleting rivers, and extinct species. Away at a time and place where one can live fictions of the past.

We arrive in 1526. 
The mighty Rajputs of Chittorgarh were preparing for war against the formidable Babur who was about to establish the Mughal Empire. 
The northern part of the nation was engulfed in war. The smoke of gunpowder firearms and field artillery fills the sky, turning the blue shade of sky in black. Soldiers carry the will of their masters. They parry with swords, bash with shields and die. The field was already red with blood, now ashes and burnt flesh also add to the sorrow of the mother earth as she weeps on the death of her children. Whose side could she have taken? She nurtured them all with same love and affection.               
               
Around 270 kilometers away from all this war and chaos, there lay a quiet village – Arbuda. Set on a rocky plateau in Aravalli Range and densely surrounded by forest. A land blessed with fertile soil and a valley. A land so beautiful that nature itself decided to protect it with dense forests and mountain ranges. The village was inhabited by a tribe of warriors and peasants. 
It was fabled that many years ago the forest was created by Goddess Arbuda herself. She brought flora, fauna, and blessed the land with life. Later she created human life in the land and taught them the way of living.
From farming to harvesting, hunting to cooking, close combat to battle formations, and literature to music, she blessed her children with all the good things that can ever be learned to live a wholesome life. She established the laws of the land to be followed by the tribe at any cost. 
The laws of Arbuda were simple. Whether man or woman everyone was free to choose the profession they want. Women were to be respected at all costs and if anyone causes harm to them, the penalty was to be paid with life. 

The warrior that would die protecting the legacy of the tribe should receive the honor of Shastragni, where the entire tribe pays homage to the martyr. The warrior would be dressed in their uniform with a new sword. At the time of cremation, the goddess herself would come, bless the sword and lead the fallen one to heaven. After the ceremony, the blessed sword is kept, and given to gallant warriors of the tribe.

For hundreds of years, the tribe thrived and prospered. Everyone would have access to the rich resources of the valley and lead a righteous life by following the sacred laws of the Goddess. 

But the 7th chief – Agam, wanted everything for him, and for that, he didn’t hesitate to even defy the Goddess. He altered all the written laws to his comfort and corrupted his fellow courtiers by showing them dreams of power and gold. Agam wanted superior control over the people, resources, and treated women as a mere commodity. As per him, women were responsible to take care of the house, farm and give birth to healthy warriors but at no cost should they ever step into the battlefield, and so, Shastragni became an honor only for men.

People followed the misled ways of Agam as he preached.  
By 1502, the warriors of Arbuda became well known for their commendable war tactics and proficiency in guerilla warfare. 
Muscular and gigantic Arbudans had a bronzed complexion and black hair. They would shine like a bronze statue in sunlight. 
Their popularity travelled to faraway lands and soon they became mercenary for hire for other states and provinces to fight in wars.
And so, time passed and the tribe thrived.
But today (1526) is an important day for the Tribe. Amod, a farmer of the tribe is about to be blessed with a baby. As a ritual, when a child is born, the chief and the entire village would come and celebrate this joyous occasion outside the center hall of the village. The center hall was dedicated to women in labor, where they are availed all the food and comfort so that they can give birth without any discomfort. 
An anxious Amod is sitting right at the door of the hall. He is in his mid-30s, one would notice his big-boned structure and his paunch at the first sight. Like everyone else, Amod is wearing a yellow pagri on his head, a tightly tied white angrakha, and an immaculately tied white dhoti. A red-colored gamcha rested on his shoulder, which he constantly used to wipe the sweat off his face. He is adjusting his kadha (a bangle like ornament) time and again. 
Women are chattering about their usual work. Most of them were in their traditional attire – a blouse, Ghaghra (dyed with intricate designs printed on them, and odhni, a shawl-like cloth.  
After a while when he can’t take it anymore, Amod knelt and started praying to the goddess Arbuda for the safety of his wife and his newborn child.
His heart skipped a beat whenever he heard painful screams of his wife. After nearly an hour an old lady came out of the hall, even in all the noise of chattering, and murmuring the sound of the tinkling of her Payal (a traditional anklet) was distinctly audible. She tapped on the shoulder of Amod and sloppily signalled him to follow her in the hall.
Amod quickly gets up and enters the hall. He saw his wife, lying unconscious on the bed, with a broken voice and teary eyes, he asked – “What’s happened to my wife?” “Don’t fret, O framer, she is unconscious due to the pain of bringing life. She will wake up soon” said Dhanvantari, the village doctor. Dhanvantari was an old lady, her face was full of wrinkles and her silver hairs were neatly tied in traditional jatā (a hairstyle similar to dreadlocks) and she wore a plain white saree. It’s said that once Dhanvantari checks someone’s pulse, she can tell everything about their medical condition. “Here, the Goddess has blessed you both with a beautiful girl, May she brings prosperity in your family and gives birth to strong warriors.” Said Dhanvantari and handed over the baby girl to Amod. 
Amod’s heart was pumping so fast that he could hear his heartbeat; never in his life was he so awestruck. He held the baby in his arms; tears welled from his eyes as he heard her first cry. After a while, her crying stopped as her eyes met her father’s, and starting cooing. “Dear, I am sorry I could not give birth to a warrior,” said Amod’s wife, Devi. “How could you say this, dear, I am the happiest man in tribe right now; all because of you,” Amod said. He smiled and said joyfully “Here, hold her, she needs you” and handed the baby to Devi. Devi asked joyfully “what should we name her, dear?” “She brings happiness and joy in our lives, her smile and grace will heal all, and she will be known by the name of Rati.” said a content Amod.
The entire village came to know about the baby girl. While some were disappointed as they expected a boy, almost the entire tribe was flooded with happiness. Everyone met the child and gave their blessings. 
The chief, Bhairav arrived at the end.
While at most places, chiefs are expected to arrive first, the laws of Arbuda were different. The chief would always come at last no matter what. Even at the time of the feast, the family of the chief will only eat when the tribe has eaten; this was their way of showing the importance to people, and putting the tribe above themselves.