Adamya
  • Reads 29,584
  • Votes 2,023
  • Parts 45
  • Time 7h 19m
  • Reads 29,584
  • Votes 2,023
  • Parts 45
  • Time 7h 19m
Ongoing, First published Aug 28, 2022
1 new part
अन्तः अस्ति प्रारंभः।

The end is the beginning.

A caterpillar dies, to birth a butterfly. Water evaporates to rain down. Dead carcasses fill the stomachs of vultures.Life gives way to death and death to life. In a vicious circle of different karmas and janmas, a soul leaves a decaying body to move onto something better and livelier.

But what if certain karmas are found hanging on the thin string between salvation and damnation?

This is exactly where Mihira Ramnath Subhedar finds herself. The last of the many Kaliyugis, she was holding on to the narrowest beam that would lead her towards eternal the light, or so she thought.

Poets were liars, she discovered when the end neared. There was nothing peaceful about death, no rest and no respite; just an ounce of faith which made her believe that she would finally find a place at the Lord's feet. But the ever merciful Leeladhari had discrete intents for such a soul that had just witnessed the end of the heinous yuga.

"No, ain't Vaikuntha but Dvāpara. Good luck completing the unfinished business!"

Walk along the aisle with Mihira while she embarks on the greatest pilgrimage of her rekindled life, witnesses the red of the Swastika being washed over by the red of vengeful blood and being swept off her feet by a man she'd never heard of.
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The Burning Rose

9 parts Ongoing Mature

A MAHABHARATA RETELLING ~~~ All the other flowers in the garden were brought up to envy the rose. Maybe shun it even. And admire it, too. Unusual ways. Too-red petals, too-sharp thorns, too-sweet fragrance. If only each flower did not have a mind of its own. If only stories were truly what one hand wrote them to be. If only the blood on every thorn was the fault of the rose and not that of the hunter. ~~~ Her breathing had suddenly halted as her eyes had accidentally landed on a piece of paper carelessly tucked under the lampholder on the bedside table. It looked like the work of a royal servant who had accidentally come across it while cleaning the room and then picked it up and tucked it away. She had carefully sat up and reached for it. The hot metal of the lampholder - like the one she had seen Draupadi seamlessly remove from a counter - had almost seared her palm, as she had hurriedly but carefully pushed it aside and retrieved the folded piece of what seemed like pearlescent paper. Touching it had felt like a grave invasion of privacy, but the curiosity that had suddenly roared and raced within her like a great river breaking free off a cliff. She had hurriedly unfolded the paper and had been greeted by a not-so-perfect handwriting and a volley of letters. It was a letter. A letter that looked like someone had ripped their heart out and presented it to someone on a piece of pearlescent paper. ~~~ WARNINGS: Scenes of intimacy and violence, possible hints of self-harm or similar intentions