Victory And Loss ( Part 2 )

The man continued the action a few times, but after coming out of the alley and passing another square which was built around a park, music in the main square was not audible anymore. He stopped.

"The Lord Bhargava is in reality the king of music and the conqueror of souls. Today, you have opened my eyes with your skill." A small, immature voice spoke.

The handsome man with the drum looked up. On the branches of a tree, a boy who was yet to reach his teenage years leaned proudly, with his hands crossed across his chest. He was wearing a white dhoti and a white top cloth. Mourning clothes, just like anyone. But his white had a certain sheen to it. It didn't look luxurious, but it had the ability to pull people in. The weave was indescribably marvelous, although the detail was entirely plain, making one wonder if they were overimagining things.

The handsome man smiled. "Your Majesty should at least wear a disguise if you're going to sneak out of the palace."

The boy snorted and jumped down the tree. Though he was standing at least twelve feet height before, he didn't even frown after making the jump. He easily carried the conversation forward, "I didn't sneak out this time. I came with big sister to see what the commotion in the square is about. The ministers predicted that something like this will happen…After all, Indra is the last god to rule Earth. Now that he died…One may as well take it that gods have left the planet. This is bound to create panic."

The man didn't let the boy to easily change the subject. "So you came with your sister…and then snuck out," he smiled slyly.

The little boy had restless feet. He walked into the park and jumped onto the branches of a tree, catching the branch of a higher one from there. He did it slowly though, making sure that the man followed. The foreign man hesitated, but eventually he gave in.

The boy jumped onto the crown of a medium sized tree, excitedly pointing at a pair of colorful blue rollers. For almost three years, the boy had painstakingly gathered birds from all corners of the drylands and created a small sanctuary for them here, right in the middle of the capital. It was prohibited for citizens to harm these birds in anyway.

"These birds eat the insects attracted by their bright plumage, did you know? When they fly, they can twist and turn, even roll sometimes! They have great skills!" the boy described excitedly, leaping ahead even faster in order get deeper into the bird park.

As he journeyed, he described all kinds of birds that could be found inside, some that did not even have names yet. He described some stories about how he obtained some of them. The boy seemed utterly unconcerned that his father just died and was even more reluctant to go back to perform the rites.

Bhargava was silent throughout, letting the boy speak about birds as much as he liked. The child liked colorful things that can fly. He saw nothing wrong with that.

"What is His Majesty avoiding?" he asked after a while.

The boy in white who was jumping and leaping suddenly stopped on a branch. The branch creaked lightly and he jumped to the ground to avoid a mishap.

His eyes looked dark, a dangerous look flashing in them along with a look of reluctance.

"What am I avoiding?" the childish voice said, "I have to go back to the palace and kill a woman and her child…who is my own brother. Probably even…probably even Kavya-gauri…who is my darling little sister. The only one I can pamper, being the youngest…" the young boy frowned, "Not that I've done it for a long time…I was too busy. So it's probably fine."

He looked towards the adult. "You say, should I avoid going back or should I be enthusiastic about it?"

The tall and beautiful foreigner did not make a remark. He smiled instead and sat on a fat tree root, playing the damaruk. The song from the square continued, but it has become something different again. Vajradandaka's chaotic thoughts settled as he fell into an immediate trance hearing that song. It was a continuation of the phenomenon he saw in the square, the intense moment pulling him in into a world of visions. Of great kingdoms raising and falling, of monarchs going on conquests that lasted for several centuries, of fairies that descended to Earth and sang their praises. The song continued as the vision turned to lullabies, the birth of a new generation of monarchs, of bloodlines that are rare and divine. So many kings weighed down by decisions once they ascend, the feelings of loneliness and the emptiness of path. The heaviness of their shoulders and the loss of empathy. But then there is the vision of that rare minister. The one person who you can count on, and can be also counted on by your people. Finding that one such minister would lead to finding a dozen more of such ministers, and the path would not be so bleak anymore. The decisions would not be so heavy anymore. Citizens need state, the state needs pillars. The monarch is just an emblem, a pole where there is polarity, a compass where there is a map. He doesn't actually need to do anything, he just needs to sit there on the bridge, under which Rta flows. And the land where Rta flows is where Dharma is upheld and where the karma of the citizens is unbroken, a chain leading all the way to heaven. Just like all rivers flow to the sea, in the land of Rta, all souls journey to salvation.

When Vajradandaka came out of the trance, he suddenly didn't find the problem he was facing so imposing. In contrast, he felt it was quite small, almost unnoticeable, like a small pebble kept beside the moon. When he finally thought it through was when he collected all his thoughts back. He noticed that he was sitting on the ground, on top of the fallen leaves in the woods, his pure white dhoti sparkling against the color of mud. The music has stopped long ago. When he lifted up his head to see, there was already no one sitting opposite him on the tree root.

Vajradandaka lifted his head up to see the sun was nearly at the apex, signaling it was already noon. He hurriedly raised and dusted himself and ran back the way he came.

"Uncle Bhargava, I'll come to you another time to discuss what I want to do with Kush and his army!" he yelled into the empty park with not a soul in sight.

Far away, deep at the core of this sanctuary, a man with long lustrous hair was seated in meditation under a huge tree. All kinds of bird species surrounded him, some sitting on his shoulders, some on his head, while others pecked at his chest, nervously flying around after they did so, as if they didn't want to get caught doing something naughty. The man's eyelashes were long and soft. As he opened his eyes, a soft light fell on the birds, making them titter in bliss and excitement.

"Alright little one," the man whispered. The sound was nearly inaudible, but the message was carried over everywhere in this small manmade forest.

Vajra stumbled and nearly fell when he faced the phenomenon. But then he straightened up quickly and resumed running, shaking his head to himself. "Grass feels inferior to me because I'm born in a palace. He's being reared by two gods, I'm the one that's supposed to be jealous…" and utterly helpless in a competition.

I am bound to lose!

Tripping one a vine, His Majesty fell face first on the forest floor, but luckily his aides found him by then and helped him up.

Shaura of Garaj clan ran out to meet him just as he exited the park. "Little prince! I mean, Your Majesty, you've given me a heart attack. Just how did you disappear?"

Vajradandaka blinked innocently. "Did I? I thought you were following me.