He was sitting in a semi-posture with the back of his head with the trunk under the ashwattha tree, with the right foot on the left knee looking into the void with half-sighted eyes. The left leg was in the air due to being on the knee, the sole of which was spreading its blood in the sunlight in the early morning sun.
In the morning, Sameer was also a little bit sad and sad and sitting on the trunk of Ashwattha tree, stroking the delightful son of that seductive personality, comforting him.
He looked up at Ashwattha and looking towards the horizon filled a deep heave.
Only a few days ago, he was surrounded by family, family, society, whole community… and now?
Now completely alone.
“how could it be?” The crying Daruk asked at that time.
“The one who walks on religion is finally left alone.” He replied in a senseless way.
While remaining at the center of the political, social and spiritual activities of the entire Aryavarta, the unaffiliated remained unconnected, but the family and family members standing around grew to be alone in the expectations of eternal self-wishes because they could not support unrighteousness. That is why even before seeing the death of son, grandson in front of his eyes, he could remain obsolete.
But still, his mindless heart could not bear the great journey of Agraj.
He received the affection of his elder son from his infancy like mother and mother and remained like an unbreakable knot throughout his life. This stubborn but affectionate Agraj’s anger, anger like impulse and alcoholism, gaming etc., could not reduce his love towards him and today when he too turned his face away and left this dead world forever, then what kind of inertia stunned it She has gone and her mind was returning to the past that only then…
A fine, familiar voice echoed in his warrior brain and a sharp line of agony was drawn from the soles of the feet to the brain.
He looked at the feet. The blade of the arrow bursting the sole was on the other side of the foot.
This accidental body attack brought him out of the emotional world.
“Pain is the simple religion of the body but not of the soul.” A smile emerged on his face. Smit, whose Aryavarta was under hypnosis for a full hundred years.
“Forgive me, Arya, your Raktim Talwa was caught with an arrow as the face of a wild animal.” A hunter was distraught and sitting on his knees.
“Wake up, you didn’t commit a crime, everything that happened was confused”
“No, how will the Lord forgive himself for this husband?”
“Do not keep any guilt in your mind. You do not know what is the result of which work of my birth you have done towards you.” – A ‘mysterious smile’ played on his face, patting the bride’s shoulder.
“Now you go, peace be upon you.”
The hunter got up on the ground repeatedly and walked with heavy steps. While walking, he used to look back after turning. But the hunter eventually disappeared from the scene.
Now he was alone again with his memories.
Scenes and sounds were coming like waves on their memory boards and collided together to create a vortex of uproar. Gradually those voices started becoming clear.
– A crumbling voice of the blood-stained son from Prabhas’ blood-populated area going to the deathbed – “Father!”
– “If you wanted, you could stop this war, so you are also part of this sin.” – This feminine sound of unkind accusation arose from the palace of Hastinapur.
– “Brother, despite you, how did these miscreants kill my childless son?” They were listening to the cry of their dear sister, immersed in hiccups.
– Then another woman’s loud voice came from Hastinapur – “Despite being a Sakha like you, I was insulted in a public meeting like this. How?”
– And ……… the most different, far away, far away from the time span of a grown man’s voice echoing from the clanged face and full throat – “Lalla, take care.”
This voice made him nervous as always. The voice of a father who was watching his son drift away from him forever.
In this lifetime of a century, this short sentence remained a burden on his mind and he could never get rid of it and neither did the adult face he used to call ‘Baba’.
With the mere memory of those wobbly eyes and gingerly face, the body’s follicles stood up.
Even now they could not get care that immediately the call, which was immersed in the buzzing Vatsalya, had the power to ignore them, even in their mindless untroubled mind.
“Where are you hiding, Ray? Why bothers your mother so much ??”
“Here I am, maia”, he murmured in his lips. At the same time, the eyelids were molded on his half-eyed and two teardrops spilled with closed lotus eyes.
This divine personality, called the God of God, also stopped in those rare moments like time to see the mother in memory.
The trees, the vines, the quiet seers opposite the trend, the deer staring at their faces with great gullible eyes and the peacocks shaking their necks in distraction, were all stunned.
Ultimately a familiar whisper echoed in his ears, which was still intact in his memory even after a century, always becoming his power.
“You’re just mine.” The low-pitched sound of a proud gopika mounted on his back.
Those big eyes swam in memory There were no tears in those eyes, there was an infinite wait which had arisen when they were separated.
He could never again see the eyes in which he was fascinated by his own reflection.
His eyes opened up as he became anxious. She was standing in front of him.
“Where else should I be? She blushed and laughed.
“Where have you been so far? I could see you after a whole era, your laughter” His eyes were filled again.
She came to him smiling.
“When were we apart? What happened to you ?? Recognize yourself” She whispered in his ears and then blushed and gave a kiss on his head.
His brain felt like a jerk and he felt a stir in the bruise. His focus began to shift.
In the closed eyes, there appeared to be light points on the perpendicular whose circumference started increasing gradually. As this growing light surrounded their entire existence.
Light around them was light and they themselves were integral with that light and were in the form of ermi among the light particles.
Now he was the center of all the universe and was giving it momentum.
Neither did they have any beginning nor any end, they were infinite in which the infinite cosmos like erasers were disappearing like reaction bubbles.
But she was still in front of him, smiling.
He extended his hand in invitation posture. They stood up and held that hand. Something was hidden in the hands.
Oh, it was his flute that he had left as his memory. He looked at her with questioning eyes, and she smiled and accepted the silence in her eyes.
After a hundred years, he planted that split flute with his lips.
Bhuvan Mohini’s voice erupted.
He laid his head on her shoulder and drowned in that tone.
With the intensity of the tune, the urmi of light began to grow. Both were dissolving in that light and also a form. Eventually both became integral and Prakash merged them into himself.
The head hinged from the trunk of the ashwattha tree fell on one side of the shoulder and at the same time a woman’s breath stopped in the same rain in the same moments.