Hello lovely people. It’s been an year since we had a fic-a-thon kind of thing. I’ve been MIA all this time because life happened to swallow me whole and spit me back into fire. Survival was all I could think about but I did complete my idea of a fic. I wrote this mostly when I was completed out of any kind of inspiration. I made myself complete this because doing this made feel a little bit alive at that time. Maybe it’s kind of lame if you read it but I’m proud of what I present to you here because it represents to me a time when everything that could go wrong went wrong in my life. And I’m still standing. So here goes.
Tagging all participants! @walburgablack @southern-continent-skies @mayavanavihariniharini , @glyphenthusiast @incurablescribbler , @avani008 @alwaysthesideofwonder @carminavulcana @allegoriesinmediasres , @ruminationsofaraven @medhasree @bleedinknight @worddiva179 @parlegee @heyifinallyhaveablog @yugantaram @ambidextrousarcher
I don’t know how many of you are active still and I may have missed a few people here.😅
Feel free to tag others. Llike/reblog if you feel like it.
I usually welcome any negative reviews but not on this. Please be considerate. This one is special. Thank you for understanding.
Plot: bahubali after the war. Sanga and devasena gang up. This one is where you know Shivudu was a cranky kid.
Yasodha Tanaya, Nanda Gopala ! Vasudeva Suta, Devaki Nandana !!
“Krishna!” Devasena exclaimed internally.
It’s been a month since the Great Battle and things have finally started to settle down. Not counting the dimwit working at the paravannam she ordered to be made as a part of the dishes for Bhojanam.
“Kausala is this the way you do paravannam ? You need to add bellam at the end!” Devasena said, exasperated.
“Please accept my apologies, Rajamatha. The previous head of kitchens ordered us to make paravannam this way.” He replied with fearful eyes. Kausala’s heart beat increased manifold. When you worked for the king, mistakes cannot happen. Not if you wanted to hold on to your livelihood.
Devasena could see the fear in the cook’s demeanour. It had taken them all this time to root out BhallalaDeva sympathisers from the royal household. It was not a gargantuan task considering how nearly all of them were collectively despised in the kingdom. The previous Head of Kitchens included. Tales of atrocities reportedly perpetrated in the name of the Crown had made her blood boil with rage. The hardest to digest was the fact that many of them were in fact sanctioned by the very same Crown that was supposed to protect the people. Now that Mahendra has ascended to the throne people are cautiously hopeful of better times to come. It hurt to witness her people suffering in the aftermath of the battle and regime change. Battered, impoverished and yet Mahishmathi rallies to stand on her feet.
Sighing internally and taking care not to frighten the cook any more than he already is, she took the ladle from him and proceeded to show him how it is done.
“The milk is to come to a boil Kausala. Lower the flame.” Adding rice to the vessel she continued. “You then add rice to the milk and let it cook. Stir it occasionally so that nothing sticks to the bottom. Come now, take over.” Handing him the reins she continued, “Now. Once the rice is cooked take it off heat, add bellam you grated, a generous amount of ghee, sprinkle ground ilaichi, give it a stir and put a lid on top. Sare na ?”
“Chittam Rajamatha.” Kausala replied. Tears welled up in his eyes as he turned to tend to the dish. Fifteen years he had worked in the Royal Kitchens. He was never spoken to by royalty that lived within. He had heard stories about what had happened within the palace. He felt blessed to witness how Maharaja BhallalaDeva’s cruel and inhuman imprisonment has not broken Rajamatha Devasena’s innate strength and kindness.
Sanga didn’t have time to be awed with the royalty surrounding her. Thrust into the center of an age-old feud of the royal family of Mahishmathi, she had to let go of her beloved Shivudu. Responsibilities separated them as she had to return to her tanda and he needed to remain at his kingdom. Her Shivudu was the king ! Her heart soared every time the thought crossed her mind and the very next second she ended up crying for having to give her son up. Now that she was on her way to see him, she couldn’t handle the joy.
Night blanketed the kingdom by the time they reached the castle. The journey had taken them the better part of a day. Royal guards escorted them in. They were immediately taken to their rooms and told to rest. Unable to contain her excitement, Sanga asked them when they could meet her son. The staff that accompanied them looked at her oddly. “Maharaja Bahubali has been very busy these past few months. I’m sure he’d summon you as soon as he is able.” She said and left them to their thoughts
Alone in their rooms, Sanga couldn’t help but wonder how so much had changed. She needed permission to see her son! Sleep eluded her for hours, her mind wandering along the meandering paths of darker thoughts. The kind of thoughts that come and stay for a long time even when we don’t want them too.
The next day Sanga was invited to the Royal court of Mahishmati as an esteemed guest of the Royal throne. It irked her to be called a guest when her son ruled the kingdom and then her mind reminded her he wasn’t really hers anymore. Never was.
Sanga remained gloomy all the way to the court-room. The huge columns, balustrades, the magnificent architecture of Sabha mandiram - nothing could hold her attention. Ornate doors were held open for them to enter the royal court. Portraits of Kings and Queens of the years passed looked down upon them as they made their way across the ante chamber to the court.
Nothing in the Royal court could hold her attention as the King at the centre. All melancholia left her as she witnessed what it meant to rule Mahishmati. For the rest of the day, her thoughts revolved around how her Shivudu was no longer the little kid she had to look after. For the longest time, when she thought of her son she remembered the little kid who thought the moon lived beyond the waterfall and that elders only lied about the dangers of climbing the waterfall to keep the moon for themselves. It took her ages to disprove his theory and when she finally did he just came up with another one. He had chased his dreams, his destiny, across raging rivers and fierce mountains and it had led him here, to the kingdom that was his by right, to a girl he thought he had only imagined, to a mother who spent twenty five years in harsh imprisonment, waiting for her son who everyone thought was dead. Shivudu was hers to raise but Mahendra Baahubali was hers to give to the people- to the kingdom- that needed him.
King Baahubali was everything the kingdom needed. A strong warrior, powerful tactician, a kind hearted people-loving ruler. But Mahishmathi was not what he imagined it would be. For instance they couldn’t even bloody make his favourite deer meat right!
Mahesha, his minister, had informed him of his parents' arrival in the kingdom. That was yesterday. He had intended to meet them immediately upon their arrival. That’s when the council elders decided to meet regarding foreign threats. He made it out of that unscathed and fell flat on his bed and promptly snored his way to sleep. Well, the point is, he had not met his parents yet.
Now he can’t meet their eyes because if he didn’t like the dish, his mother definitely didn’t and if he couldn’t get the kitchen to work to his tastes he couldn’t in all probability run the bloody huge kingdom. Sighing, he gulped down the things in his mouth with water and proceeded to pick through his food.
His court and the other royalty present seemed to enjoy the meal well enough or at least that’s what he thought. No one has come complaining about the food. Yet.
Sometimes he wished he were still in the tanda. Playing pranks on his friends, making mudslides with the younger kids, raising hell in general and giving his loving mother mini heart attacks. Simpler times, simpler life. He’d lost everything and gained everything in his search for the girl of his dreams. Somehow he’d left behind the mother who raised him and found the mother that brought him into the world. He avenged his father’s death and found himself with a kingdom to run. Nothing from his old life remained. Nothing but his own self. Everyday was a day he had to learn something new, pulling down and rebuilding his worldview brick by brick.
In all of the inner turmoil he faced one thing never wavered. He loved his people to bits. This kingdom lived and breathed. It was life itself. The very first day he set foot here he felt her heart thrumming under his feet. It called to him in a way nothing in his life did. And for her, for the people he claimed his own, he was willing to do anything, be anything they wanted.
A sigh escaped him and a hoard of servants landed around him to ask him if he needed anything. Before he let out an even bigger sigh that warranted another hoard he smiled politely to send them away.
On the other end of the table Sanga and Devasena were in deep conversation. They had formed a bond on their mutual love for their son, having long decided he needed two mothers to put up with all the antics. Their primary concern, like any sane mother, was their only son’s marriage. Avantika had left to rebuild Kuntala and Mahendra was busy fixing Mahishmathi. If left to their own devices they wouldn’t marry this century. Or so the mothers thought.
Just as they shared a joke about how it would be years before they saw the face of their first grandchild, they saw Mahendra at the other end trying to ward what looked like a swarm of servants. Sanga laughed outright before Devasena gave her a look that spoke volumes. Sanga dutifully looked down into her plate taking a bite out of the deer meat and visibly flinched.
“Oh gods. No wonder he felt so miserable.” She said out loud.
“What do you mean? Is the meat that bad? I made sure it was cooked according to the recipe.” Devasena said, taking a bite of the food herself. “Hmm. This is fine.” She declared, looking at Sanga for an explanation.
“No Rajamatha, it’s not.” Sanga said. At which Devasena’s eyebrows rose. “What I meant was that this is not the way I cook it and that’s the only way he ever liked his meat. He was such a picky kid and I had to basically reinvent cooking to make him eat anything at all!”
Understanding dawned. She had observed him with food and all he ever wholeheartedly ate were fruits and salads. Any meat just ended up in the periphery of his plate. Uneaten.
Sanga’s gaze became troubled. “I should have warned you. It just …. it just never occurred to me to tell you about how he ate. There was so much going on …. I was fixated on how I lost my son and all the while he was here, in a foreign land, without anyone who knew him before he was the king.” Tears filled her eyes as she unburdened herself to Devasena.
“And I am guilty of thinking I finally have my son after all these years and that I could show him how much I love him by making everything perfect without actually realising that he is a grown man with likes and dislikes-a whole life before he had the chance to be my son or a king.” Devasena said quietly. It gutted her to accept any weakness. But Devasena knew that when it came to Mahendra, Sanga was the authority. A mother when he needed her the most. If she had to learn everyday for the rest of her life to know her son better she would. And Sanga would help her too. Because in Sanga, Devasena saw herself- a mother desperately trying to stay relevant even as her son outgrew her.
Sanga reaches out holding Devasena’s hand in silent comradery. A mischievous light enters her eyes as she says to Devasena, “l have an idea.”
Being the Rajamatha had certain privileges. When Devasena ordered the kitchen to cede control to Sanga for an hour, no one questioned her authority. Although Kausala was less than elated to have a foreign woman enter his kitchen and rule over it for however long, he gave up reins without protest. Over the hour Sanga commandeered the staff into getting all the spices she asked for and started cooking the Meat dish in her style.
They filled the tray with the food Sanga cooked and went to the King’s chambers.
Mahendra could hear his stomach growling. Should have just eaten the meat! He thought. The thick leaves of the book he was reading couldn’t hold his attention if he was well fed. It had no chance in hell now that he was starving. Just as he was about to close the book he heard a small knock.
The first thing that he noticed was the aroma. “Amma!” He laughed as he turned around. Both his mothers stood in front of him gazing at him with laughter in their eyes. There was not a day that went by when he wished he could have both his mothers with him. Because as much as he is Rajamatha Devasena’s flesh and blood, Sanga held his soul.
“Amma.” He said again, looking at them both. “I’m so sorry I didn’t meet with you earlier Amma.” He said, addressing Sanga.
“Ayyo nanna. Emi parledu” Sanga said in their vernacular. “Now. I know I haven’t seen you eat anything. Come, I’ve made this for you.”
Devasena smiled at Mahendra who was rolling his eyes at Sanga, as she searched for a place to put the tray. “Shiva! How horrible is this place? They’d think you were raised in a pig sty for all that you are a king!” Sanga glared at him.
A laughing Mahendra went to Sanga and tried taking the food from the tray and earned a rap on the head from his mother. “Sit.” She ordered. “Rajamatha, feed this son of ours before he falls asleep!”. Muttering under her breath she started clearing out his table before he could get a word in edgewise. Devasena took the plate from the tray and for the first time in twenty five years, fed her son with her own hands. A small feat, no wonder, but her heart filled with joy, her eyes brimming with happy tears.
At the first bite of delicious food, Mahendra’s eyes closed in gastronomic bliss. He exclaimed “Amma, you are Devi Annapurna incarnate come to feed me!” To which Sanga just snorted and shot back “Sweet-talker! Don’t think I forgot you haven’t come to see me as soon as I came to your place. You are going to have to do better.”
“Worth a try.”- murmured a laughing Mahendra to Devasena. Grinning she continued to feed her son as he traded words back and forth with Sanga. It was endearing to watch them interact. Sanga’s pride and love shone through everything she said. Including her admonition.
Sanga, having achieved a semblance of tidiness, gave up on her work and came to sit with him, telling him about the happenings of their tanda. Having fed the last of food, Devasena started turning the empty plate thrice over Mahendra’s head, in a ceremony of warding off evil eye.
“Amma! Am I not a little too old for this? Disti is usually done for children.” Her son complained.
Both the mothers glared at him. While Sanga just said who do you think you are?, Devasena explained- “King of the realm or not you’ll always stay our kid.”
Moments like these made him count his blessings. Of all the things that fate had bestowed upon him, he was most grateful for his incredible mothers. He loved them with all he was. Looking at Sanga and Devasena he said-
“Amma, you know the story about Lord Krishna you used to tell me?- he asked Sanga. “About how he has two mothers? I feel as blessed as him. Thank you.” He said to them both, folding his hands in namaste.
