My retreat with Andrea ended, and I returned to the camp alone for she had somewhere to be and I reached just in time for supper. The birds took flight, and the queen of the night bloomed with the arrival of stars, setting the stage for storytelling.
When the tribe invites guests, such as us, we are privileged to request a story, and our hosts should oblige.
Right from the early days of childhood, I shared a passion for stories, as I did for singing. Maybe it's the shared trait of escapism that entranced me, or perhaps it is its piercing nature that drowns the rafter of reality, taking me to a world of dreams and wonder, flooding my mind with tales of yore that instill great patience to endure the harrowing tyrannies of life.
"I want the younglings to be quiet. I don't want you little pissachas to ruin our tribe's reputation. Now, I will tell you three stories today, So, what would you brats like to hear ?"
The children like wild hungry pups loudly proclaimed the requests all at once.
"Tell me the story of Madhavan and bull demon,"
"I want to know how Svayambhu came to be."
"No, I wanna know 'bout Tarangini, the serpent rider, and, oh, the ride of Napumsakas!"
"I want know about the fall of yavanas!"
The babble died down when the old man clapped his hands. "Instead of three, how about I tell it as one, yes I will tell you about our tribe, the birth of our gods and of Tarangini the serpent rider."
****
First, before stars twinkled in a plane of tar, before trees sighed in autumn days, before the world was shrouded in emerald lands and sapphire seas, before there was anything, there was emptiness.
Then there came a golden egg from the end of all yugas, marking a new beginning. The egg hatched, and the cold blackness tasted the warmth of creation, and it burned—oh, almighty, it burned, for the universe, at its inception, had no consciousness or will to act on its own until a song from a realm that was beyond the blackness we live gave it the primal desire to procreate.,
And thus came Svayambhu, the first of the divines, not a man or woman but born with command over the jiva.
Upon their birth, they sensed an entity within: a malevolence with an intent to corrupt and ruin— a contrarian with wanton desire to bury the other half and bring discord to the symphony.
Fearing its nature Svayambhu banished it to a prison beyond our perception and and soon after, took the role of an architect and created their own realm.
Then came a long silence—an emptiness, a stillness restrained by Svayambhau's tolerance for intolerable loneliness. It only ceased eons later, when every moment ached, and the hollowness begged time to loosen its grip and not shield the vision of those of a distant future. Dim, for they are yet to be born; warm, for they anticipate their birth and the chance to be devoted.
In the sands of Jivanasamudratira, time was stretched taut, as toil and tears begat innumerable offspring who would shower their maker with love and devotion. Thus, there, came an end to the hollowness and another millennium passed.
Once more, the maker grew tired of the humdrum of hymns sung in their praise and asked their children to tread on a path unexplored. They did as they were told, spending centuries finding a way to please their maker.
One of them, called Vishwakarma, created a lotus flower and gifted it to their maker. Upon receiving it, the creator remembered a portion of the song and tears were shed so a lotus could bloom.
Svayambhu plucked three petals of lotus to create three realms: Prithvi, Svarga, Dyau. They populated prithvi with seas and trees to hold a race born with immortality but limited wisdom - they were called Napumsakas upon their birth the maker was moved to tears.
Svayambhu plucked lilies grown from those tears and with the silky strands of their silver hair knitted a garland to festoon the coat of night, forever claiming the hearts of poets and singers for millennia to come.
For thousands of years, Svayambhu and their children watched as the Napumsakas progressed, observing them loving one another in an intangible way that fostered inadequacy.
Savitr, the sun deity, felt deeply saddened after witnessing the decline of the Napumsakas, so he sang a song that came from the memory of someone else. Manu, one of the children of Svayambhu, interpreted the song and separated the aspects of the Napumsakas, creating human males—smart, capable, volatile poets of chaos—whose songs lacked harmony and their actions dictated moments that required words.
Accompanying human creation, celestial beings known as kinnaras were fashioned with the purpose of imparting education. However, the kinnaras could not tolerate the volatile nature of humanity, so they journeyed far away.
Displeased by mankind, Manu decided to rectify the errors through killing until a word of advice from Savitr changed their mind. Manu traced back to the beginnings of their creation and repeated the process but adding the aspects of rationality and sensitivity. That was how women were born. Fair as the stars in night, patient as the wind, yet not without folly, for their songs had capacity to deviate much like men themselves.
The gods asked men to give up a privilege to women who, in exchange, would bring sense and sensibility into their lives. Men gave up colors and jewels, and their maker was satisfied.
Soon, other races were brought into existence, and gods too split themselves into two halves to be exemplary to mortals.
With the passage of time and the descent of mankind into evil, the realm of hell had to be used. Those who redeemed themselves in the fires of hell were chosen as narakasevakh, along with numerous deities representing concepts that came with men and before men.
All these gods and goddesses were governed by Devadhipa, the king of gods appointed by Svayambhu to create a rigid hierarchy among the gods that reflect the societal order of men.
Now, men weren't the only mortals; Bairava, the destroyer, made Vanaras, while Manu, the maker, created Beastmen, and Vaishnavi, the preserver, formed Nagas who worshipped her son, Ananta. They over time developed deep resentment towards men who even their creators favored.
What caused such dreadful enmity was lost in time. Some claim an act of mariticide—a human male killing his Nagin bride—to gain the mythical stone that would bring fortune and fame. Alternatively, it is also said that a serpent male took the form of a man to bed a human woman, prompting her to protect her dignity by killing him.
Regardless of the reason, one could surely claim that the conflict and bloodshed reached immoderate proportions and needed to be stopped.
The three divines Bhairava, Manu, Vaishnavi poured their potential into the sands of life and used clarified butter to mold it into a miraculous baby girl. That girl was the first avatar who has to answer the cries of wavering tranquility that held on, even as conflict sought to pry it open, to squeeze its heart to imbue it with pandemonium.
The baby girl was born in a tribe of travelling merchants, her parents named her tarangini. She grew up well-versed in arts of songs and poems. And by the age of fiteen became a talented young woman both blessed and cursed with tongue soused in charm that consequently had gotten her into trouble and occasionally into the service of the rich and powerful.
While she was indeed a celebrated beauty, with her skin washed in marble and her head crowned with long, slender curls reminiscent of a spider lily, she had the reputation of being frowsy and rakish. Often finding herself in boudoirs which greatly angered fathers and husbands who, to stay clear of shame, kept their mouths shut and licked their bloodied pride.
For a creature so divinely bestowed, she surely elicited frowns from the pious and sanctified, which meant that no one, not even she, could suspect her destiny as the first avatar.
She lived carefree and unsuspecting, but a youngster can only indulge in casual pursuits for a finite period before the juncture arrives where they must shoulder responsibility. And it came to her, like all the avatars that come after her, in tragedy.
While the nagas and human kingdoms waged war against each other, Bhumi a naga tired of bloodshed and enmity took the form of a mortal woman and lived an unassuming life as a huntress in the deep wilds.
On one of her days as a huntress, she came across a young woman who had survived a bandit attack. The only shared trait between them was beauty, in coloring of flesh, mane and personality they were polar opposites.
Yet they fell in love and explored the world together living as best as they could. Flying from one place to another as winds delicately stroking their hair, painting a portrait of twirling embers and smoke.
Despite their desire to escape the war, it reached every corner to torch the every bit of mirth. One night, as they slept, a devil slipped a knife into Bhumi's heart, robbing her paramour from love evermore. The devil cried in anguish as vengeful Tarangini scarred its eye and revealed a pitiful man, who recognized the villain in bhumi who took his mother's life.
The tragedy began a malefic melody that quickly evaporated by parting words from her wife that set her on a path to learn from immortal sages, savants of knowledge and warfare.
Since her birth they have awaited for her coming, and after she did, they cultivated her body and mind into a maven of their creed and set her forth to end all conflict. With her help the mankind had an even ground. With her newly realized potential, she invented the way of water, a dance that laid the foundation to the arts of a mantravid.
In the river of visramah, where the venomous currents had not only ensnared the lives of mortals but also the unsuspecting souls of innocent beasts, the last battle was fought.
"Nagaagnirajan you stand there defiling the waters that feed the lives of every being in their creation. You thought there would be no consequences for your actions? You devastated the balance of this world and now you shall pay the price."
Tarangini jumped into the river and the great king ensnared her in his coil but it was a minor victory for she had used her power that turned water into a weapon. She had battered the king with mighty blows. Once free from his grips, she climbed on top of him and danced. The water followed the rhythm and delivered swift blows to the mighty serpent. The serpent started vomiting blood and was to die until the avatar remembered the parting words of her lover.
'The very night prior, I was visited by a dream wherein you, my love, emerged as the child of trinity, the savior of our world. When you undertake this task, I beg you to spare my father, for there yet resides goodness within his soul.'
Hearing what his daughter went through the king broke down and surrendered, promising to end the war, and begged the avatar to accept him as her humble servant. From that moment on, Tarangi was known as the Serpent Rider. Till her death, she taught her skill to all the races, so they could use it to defend the defenseless.
****
We showered the old man with applause and he took a graceful bow expressing his gratitude. The crowd scattered, and I turned to find myself confronted by my displeased master.
Her expression, more piercing than thorns, struck a chord of discomfort within me. She gestured me to follow as she turned to walk.
"We were supposed to leave before nightfall!" I cringed at the sharpness of her voice and meekly replied, "I got carried away....its just I never had such fun"
She softened at that and turned her head from one side to the other to ensure that we were alone. "What if I tell you that this life could be perminant?"
I stared at her with disbelief. It took me a moment to process that, and then I asked, "How can it be possible?"
"I have my means. If you agree to my offer, you will leave your family forever, but with the winnings you've acquired, they can live carefree."
I was at loss of words as she continued. "You will work for an organization called order of the nine."
"Order of the Nine?"
"I can't tell much about them except for this: if anyone's going to help people like you, it's them. "
I let my mind wander to the moment we met. "Did you train me for this? To recruit me?"
"I trained you because you are talented, because you needed someone to guide you."
She cupped her hands around my face. "I did not mean to deceive you. If you don't want to take my offer, I wouldn't mind. But if you do, I will teach you everything I know, and you can be everything you ever wanted. Imagine how wonderful would that be,"
I blushed a deeper red and averted her eyes. The offer was tempting. I did not have to think much, and that realization deeply saddens me, for how easily I was willing to abandon my family.
I took a deep breath and said. "If it means I can have my dream then I accept your offer."
"You do?"
"Yes, but I need an answer to a question."
"Sure."
"Isemene and her brother, they are part of this too, aren't they?"
