#multiple shots

Veron - Master of Nature

You just gotta get back to Nature, man!

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Hey y’all! 

Welcome to the first edition of THE BRISK BAAHUBALI BAKE OFF - 2021! We are pumped to be hosting this event amidst this pandemic and despite the bazillion lockdowns that they throw at us, we took an oath (unlike our Amarendra) to whip up something fun and borderline crazy for this fandom. Yes, this fandom which brought together hundreds of similarly insane lot, who’ve managed to change each of our lives with even the littlest of their fics! 

Let us brave the storm in the best way we know - BAKING COOKIES, Y’ALL, IT IS THAT SIMPLE! Time to tug out your whisks and whip us up some smooth, flaky, chunky, gooey, dark, crumbly and melt-in-our-mouths kinda cookies!

Start prepping your batch after receiving your prompts because y’all have got two weeks to get cracking. At the end of the given time period, we shall display your artisanal cookies on our page. Don’t forget that we will be tasting each and every one of your batch of cookies!

Down here, you can find all the goodies you need to make that delicious cookie, baking ingredients and instructions to get you started with that dough-cument!

Ingredients:

Baahubali Characters (of your choice) - 1 or 2

Dark AU prompt - 1

Other AU prompt - 1 

Crack prompt- 1

Instructions:

Choose any two items from ingredients 2, 3 and 4 in the above-mentioned list. (you may choose all three, if you like to live a little dangerously. But do remember to put out warning tags to your readers before they consume the cookie)

Use the central character that you have chosen and marinate them in the above mixture along with any other character/ characters of your choice. 

Rest your cookie dough-cument (fic) with a sleek and shiny cling wrap till it cools to 200-500 words. Or Artwork/Gifset/Poetry/Song/Podfic (of your choice) which sticks to the word limit.

When you think you are satisfied with the consistency of the Dough-cument/Artwork/Gifset/Poetry/Song/Podfic, pop it into the oven, and crank up the heat.

Bake your batch and post 'em on Tumblr within two weeks of receiving your prompts of our choice, add appropriate tags and warnings. And finally, tag our page so we can feature all your fabulous cookies!

You can even post more than one cookie if you like! The choice is all yours. Hell, we’d sign up for a whole box if we could. 

Timer (Schedule & Sign Up):

Start signing up at the pantry to pick your favorite ingredients!

Use this format to sign up here.

Name:

Fic/Artwork/Gifset/Poetry/Song/Podfic:

Choice of Characters:

AU/Canon Compliant:

Pantry Closes On - June 16th

Deadline and The BIG REVEAL - July 1

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Contact us directly for more queries.

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Prompt:  DARK AU - Bhadra is actually Mahendra. The soldiers killed Sivagami and recovered the infant. Devasena doesn't know. @ruminationsofaraven @bleedinknight @thebaahubalibakeoffchallenge

Mourning The Unknown

Blood doesn’t call to blood

When stained by the dirt 

of tainted love. 

A mother in name is not

the giver of life. 

A father of dead flesh is not 

the giver of a name. 

Rage bleeds and trickles down

the curve of emaciated breasts,

and revenge stirs the dying embers

of a fire that was never extinguished.

The messiah died 

on the pyre of hope. 

His shell lives on in the ruins

“No,” says Kattappa, as firmly as he can manage through lips quivering with laughter; and yet Baahu’s grin only widens.

“Yes,” pleads his irrepressible, impossible nephew. “Only imagine the look on Bhalla’s face! And it wouldn’t be for long, only time enough for ah, my new friend Bhola—“

They turn as one to consider the man before them, attired in honest homespun, known by an outlandish northern name, as he obligingly pauses in ploughing his fields to gawk back at them. By itself it is an unremarkable expression; but on features shared by the elder prince of Mahishmati, it is—

Uncanny, Kattappa decides. He does not add aloud: rather more pleasant than Bhallaladeva’s usual glower.

“Bhola needs somewhere to escape his creditors,” Baahu continues, “and one day’s beating won’t be enough to deter them. They need a reason to fear Bhola himself, and I know no one who might do so more easily than my brother.”

Kattappa raises an eyebrow. “And meanwhile…”

Baahu’s smile, once earnest, turns impish. “We wouldn’t want Mother to worry about Bhalla’s disappearance, would we? Happily we have someone who might take his place while he deals with matters here.”

Altruism is not among Bhallaladeva’s graces; Kattappa has no doubt the exchange between prince and pauper will not be voluntary, at least on Bhallaladeva’s part. And yet, would that be so bad a fate? It is past time Bijjaladeva received his comeuppance, and given certain conversations Kattappa has overheard….

“Only until the coronation,” he finds himself saying, and prays he won’t regret it.

Written for the @thebaahubalibakeoffchallenge

@bleedinknight @ruminationsofaraven

Thank you so much for this lovely event! I had tons of fun writing this.

My prompt was Dark AU: Baahu chooses the throne over Devasena. Enjoy!

ভাবুনা - To think, to wonder

There’s a moment where he almost chooses her.

She sees it in the way his eyes keep falling back to hers, in the way his hands twitch to hold her, in the way every part of him grows towards her like a plant thirsty for the sun.

(She’s never felt this way before…)

But unfortunately, Amarendra is too much a prince, a son, to do her any justice, and just as Ram condemned Sita, so too does Amarendra condemn her.

(...and she’ll never feel this way again.)

Prompt:  Crack! - Jayasena sends a proposal to Sivagami Devi in his youth only to go toe to toe with Vikramadeva. @bleedinknight @ruminationsofaraven @thebaahubalibakeoffchallenge

Story:

It was not common to hold a swayamwar for those not of royal blood. While a noble birth brought with itself the comforts of royal living and a measure of social authority, certain privileges were reserved for princesses only.

But that was not true for Rukmini, the daughter of Nandankesava, the governor of Madurai. Nandan often worried about his youngest child, a stunning but untamable force of nature. As a child, the entire residential complex of the royal ministers and courtiers had been in perpetual fear of her mischief and antics. Now, she was both, the pride and envy of many young women… and for very good reasons.

Rukmini was a remarkable woman in every visible sense. Her tall, strong body curved in all the right places. Her long, black hair rippled past her hips and down to her knees. Her eyes, sharp and coy at the same time, had broken many hearts over the years.

But now, she was to be married.

The governor had found a suitable match for her. Verma Jayasena, the crown prince of Kunthala, had asked for her hand in marriage. It was a matter of great fortune. The queen mother of Kunthala, had sent nine gold platters piled high with nine types of precious gems: diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, pearls, garnets, musgravites, alexandrites, and grandidierites.

But Nandan’s foolish daughter had laughed derisively at the emissaries from Kunthala, before dismissing them and their proposal.

If the prince of Kunthala really wanted to marry the fiery and beautiful Rukmini, she told them, he would have to prove himself worthy of her. He would have to defeat an opponent of her choosing in a set of challenges designed by the woman in question herself.

Everyone had expected that such a ridiculous demand would be refused. But to everyone’s surprise, Jayasena had accepted.

Nandan was now dreading the actual day of the contest. Oh! When he had prayed to the gods for a little princess, he hadn’t realized how literally his wish would be granted. Princesses, by definition, were spoilt to a fault and treated with gloves of air. His daughter Rukmini was a princess in every way except for the blood that flowed in her veins.

XXXXX

“Child, you have to let us know what this challenge is,” Nandan pleaded with his daughter. “And who is this mysterious ‘champion’ of yours. If he is one of the village boys, I swear I will…”

“Father, you will do nothing,” Rukmini said flippantly. “If I am to be married, I won’t be married to a poltroon. It is my right to choose my husband.”

“Jayasena is a good man,” Anjana, Rukmini’s mother tried knocking sense into her daughter’s thick skull. “We know of his prowess in battle. Remember the expedition he led last year against those tyrants from Dharaveera. His mother sent you such fine jewels and silks. Why must you throw it all away?”

Rukmini yawned. Her parents were idiots! She had suspected as much since childhood, but now she was convinced. Silks and gems? What was she? Some idol in a temple?

Did silks know how to pleasure a woman? Could gems replicate the dirty humor of a man drunk on desire? Could precious metals let go of their senses in her expert, merciless hands? Ugh, these stupid elders never asked the important questions. More importantly, could inanimate objects partake of sin with her and ride the horses of sacrilege right to the ditches of hell?

Rukmini knew that her thoughts and her words were too dramatic and scandalous to voice out aloud. But she had her ways of getting what she wanted.

This time would be no different.

And she had no desire to spoil the surprise for her parents.

Her mysterious champion, as they called him, would give a perfect welcome to her so-called royal suitor. After all, he had helped her come up with the contests. And the filth in her mind was not just her own. The inflammations of passion were never a one-sided road.

The challenge itself was going to be easy. She simply needed to see if the man she was to marry could keep up with her.

XXXXX

Jayasena worried incessantly about the upcoming challenge. His power mother could not understand his obsession with the mad daughter of a mere governor.

“Son, so many other kingdoms wish to form alliances with us,” she groaned. “Why must you agree to the humiliation of a swayamwar.”

“You have not seen her, mother,” Jayasena responded feverishly. “Her eyes are the color of black gold, her skin is the hue of the sun’s shimmering warmth, her voice…”

The rajmata rolled her eyes, “there he goes again.”

In the days leading up to the challenge, he took the help of his little sister to prepare. Devasena, all of eight years, was smart and quick-witted, much like the fabled Rukmini of Madurai.

She taught Jayasena to flirt.

“Offer her flowers. All women like flowers. String them together and make an ornament for her hair.”

She taught him a romantic lullaby.

“Mine is meant for little Kanha, but you could change the words, see… Rukmini nidurinchira, Rukmini nidurinchira…”

She taught him to dance.

“And then stretch you belly out… no! not like that, you imbecile. You want to look impressive and strong. Right now, it looks like you ate too much and need to go find a chamber pot!”

Jayasena wasn’t sure how much Devasena’s tips would help him. But since his mother was unwilling to help and he didn’t have any other adult females in his life, Devasena was his only option. Though he suspected that it was just a game for her, a matter of amusement. He didn’t think Rukmini would judge him on his dancing prowess or his ability to sing her a lullaby.

He hoped the challenge would be martial in nature. His weapons were extensions of his hands. They had never failed him before. He hoped they would see him through this time as well.

XXXXX

The day of the contest arrived. Nandankesava’s entire house was in a state of chaos. Rukmini, already considered neurotic by most of the servants, was even more impossible to deal with this morning.

“Aiee! Have you brought the cactus?” She demanded of Ramesh, one of her father’s manservants. “I told you it needs to be at least as tall as me. And I hope the thorns have been replaced with the… decorations… I ordered.”

“Yes, akka, the cactus is exactly as you asked for,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t ask him to produce it before her.

“Hmmm,” she gave him one of her famous death glares and turned away. Ramesh sighed in relief as she approached Kaumudi, one of the cooks. “Has the prasadam been prepared according to my instructions?”

“Yes, akka, but…” Kaumudi tried to reason with her master’s crazy daughter yet again. But to no avail. Rukmini dismissed her with a wave of her hand without even looking at her.

In another wing of the house, Anjana brought out her ancestral jewelry for her daughter, a bright yellow and pink saari, and a bottle of lavender-scented oil to massage into her skin.

But Rukmini was too busy overseeing the preparations to worry about mundane, inconsequential matters like her wardrobe for her own swayamwar.

It was only after Anjana screamed through the mansion at the top of her lungs that Rukmini went running into her room to get dressed.

Between plenty of yelling and name-calling and insults, Rukmini’s older sisters managed to complete her sringaaram.

“Ow! That hurt, you old cow!” Rukmini snapped at Bhavani, the sister closest to her in age.

“How dare you call me a cow?” Bhavani screeched. “You know what? To hell with your sringaaram. You are a shrew… a wild, beastly, bad-mouthed shrew. You are not meant to be a wife. I already pity your future husband. Poor bastard will be saddled with a witch for his whole life.”

“Better a witch than a stupid cow like you…”

“Watch your tongue, little one,” one of the older sisters warned Rukmini just as Bhavani lunged at her and had to be held back by several of the other women in the room. It took yet another hour to get her ready.

XXXXX

Finally, Rukmini sat regally on the stage. Her skin shone and her eyes sparkled. A demure smile played at her lips. But those who really knew her could sense the bubbling laughter just waiting to break free from between her teeth.

As the fourth prahara of the day ended, the gong announcing the opening of the challenge was sounded. The two challengers, dressed in practical battle gear with their faces covered, stood ready with their weapons drawn.

Adhyaman, the advisor to the governor, and also Rukmini’s favorite uncle, stood up and announced the rules of the challenge.

“Listen, o suitors carefully,” he began in his sonorous voice. “This is a challenge unlike any you have ever faced. A challenge of a lifetime. There will be three rounds. The victor in at least two out of the three rounds will win the hand of our beloved Rukmini, the most beautiful and accomplished daughter of Madurai’s esteemed governor, Anna Nandankesava.”

Behind him, Bhavani made an ugly, strangled noise in her throat that sounded like a cross between a snort and a groan.

For the first challenge, two large steel platters of assorted ghee-enriched sweets were brought out.

“The first challenge is easy, my friends,” Adhyaman said. “You must finish the last scrap of the sweets on your platter, lick it as clean as you can. Our daughter must be able to see her face in the platter and braid her hair looking into it, for you to be considered successful. A flawless platter would be a flawless victory in this first challenge. And you may not use your hands. Only your mouth.”

Jayasena could not believe his ears. The first challenge was to eat a platter of sweets? Without the use of his hands.

His mother had been right. This was beyond humiliating. He considered giving up for a moment, but then his eyes met the gaze of Rukmini, smiling sweetly, poisonously at him, as if challenging him to give up.

Jayasena never gave up. It wasn’t in his blood.

He started eating from the platter. Without the use of his hands, it was clumsy and embarrassing but one sidelong glance at his competitor showed him that now was not the time for propriety. On and on it went. He ate like his life depended on it. But as he reached the half-mark on the platter, he felt a discomfiting pressure between his thighs. What the? Why was he feeling so hot and bothered all of a sudden? He looked up to see Rukmini. There was open glee and lust in her eyes. Or was he imagining it? Was there… was there something mixed in the sweets? He had only ever heard of such substances. Oh dear Lord! What had he gotten himself into? Was Rukmini looking for a husband or a pleasure slave?

From that point, it got harder to focus on the task. But he had to win. With no care for what was happening around him, he ate. After finishing the last scrap from the platter, he licked it spotless, his tongue moving methodically in long, circular motions.

Rukmini watched the two contenders with a large, impish grin on her face as the perplexed audience, including her parents and the elders of the family stared with revulsion and shock at the spectacle unfolding before them.

At long last, the competitors stood back. Rukmini stood up and casually strolled into the field. Her loosely tied hair billowed in the hot summer wind of the coast.

“hmmm,” she remarked as she judged the two platters before her. She fixed her Kumkum by looking into the platter licked clean by Jayasena. There were streaks of residual butter on it but not a single crumb to mar the perfection of her sordid reflection. The other platter was a touch more spotless, She could see the fineness of the strands of her hair in it.

“My champion wins this round,” she declared in her booming voice. “Jayasena, you must perform in the next contest if you hope to remain a suitor for my hand.”

Crestfallen, Jayasena looked at the young, boyish face of the other contestant. He didn’t like the glint in his eye. Oh! He would find out his name and teach him a lesson later!

The next round was even stranger.

A troupe of sensuously dressed male and female dancers were led to the field and two large pitchers of wine were placed before the challengers.

“Your next challenge is to admire the beauty and performance of our most talented dancers and enjoy your drink as they entertain all of us. And as you do this, you must keep your eye out for the horserider in the background. On his flag, is a target that you must hit. Whoever does it successfully, will win this round. Remember, you can only pick up your bow and arrow after you have finished the last drop of wine in your pitcher.”

“What is wrong with you, daughter?” Nandan hissed angrily in Rukmini’s ear. “You have destroyed your reputation for good with stupid stunt. You wish to be remembered as a harpy? Or as your sister has named you so aptly, an untamable witch?”

“Shhh, father,” she replied coolly. “Just watch.”

Jayasena did not know how potent the wine would be. Had he known, he might have consumed it slowly to avoid getting hit badly by the psychoactive and inhibitory effects of the drink. But in his zeal to complete the challenge first, he drank like a man possessed, even as he could feel the liquid sloshing around in his belly. The dancers, with their suggestive moves and riveting, rhythmic music did nothing to soothe the burn in his loins. At this rate, he felt he would be driven mad.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the other challenger dancing drunkenly with the dancers, his pitcher balanced dangerously on the top of his head. The other man took long, lazy sips of the wine as the dancers touched him inappropriately in several places. Gasps of horror could be heard all around as the competition went from strange to outright obscene.

Jayasena did not care for any of it. The moment he finished the last of his wine, his eyes started searching for the horserider. But before long, the wine made its potency known to him. His vision swam, his arms and legs felt heavy and uncoordinated. As he tried to shoot his arrow, his bones wiggled like jelly in his arms. He lost his footing and fell on his ass on the hard, unyielding ground. But instead of indignant fury, only wet little giggles and burps burst forth from his lips. He continued to sit there uselessly and laugh as the rider passed by him multiple times, the flag and the target tantalizingly close each time. While Jayasena tried unsuccessfully to stand up through his uncontrollable chortling, the other champion finished his wine and gave one last salacious look to the dancers. With his arms and feet as steady as ever, he mounted an arrow on his bow and searched for the rider with his eyes.

Aha! There he was.

In the blink of an eye, the arrow whizzed past Jayasena’s still giggling form and hit the target right in the center. In response, Jayasena only let out a tiny, breathy, “hee hee,” before dissolving into yet another round of undignified titters.

The winner was clear. The mysterious champion had won two challenges consecutively. There was no need for a third.

“The challenge is over, ladies and gentlemen,” Adhyaman announced, his voice thick with badly controlled mirth. “It is decided. Rukmini, our precious child of the governor, shall marry Vikramadeva, the crown prince of Mahishmati.”

The stunned crowd took a long moment before erupting into cheers. Nandan gaped at his daughter, speechless. Whispers broke out among the women and the ladies-in-waiting.

No one paid any attention to Jayasena, who was still on the ground, grinning like a fool. “Mahishmati… hee hee… the brain of a buffalo… buffalo brain… down in a drain… like brainy buffalo…hee hee… hick. Hick. Hee hee… hick.”

Jayasena, now hiccupping in between his gurgling burps and sniggers had to carried off the field on a stretcher.

By the time he was sober, he was back in his bed in the royal suite at the Kunthala Palace. “You made us very proud, son,” his mother said coldly before giving him a drink of water. Bleary-eyed and in pain with a killer headache, he remembered only bits and pieces of the challenge for Rukmini’s hand in marriage.

“What… what happened, mother?” he asked, squinting to see her face properly.

“Why don’t you tell me?” she retorted and stomped out of the room.

He hung his head low and began to piece together the events of the swayamwar. As he pieced together his recollections, a deep wave of shame and despair swept through him.

Never again. Never again would he accept a swayamwar.

He doubted he would ever get over the humiliation of this one. It would be a wonder if any princess agreed to marry him after this disaster.

As he craned his neck to look at the familiar surroundings of his room, he noticed a figure standing at the edge of the room. He couldn’t make out the face because the figure, presumably female, was covered from head to toe in a heavy sari and a cloak that covered her head, face, and arms.

“Excuse me,” he rasped. “Who are you.”

There was no response.

“You cannot be here,” he tried again, this time with some authority in his voice. “These are the private rooms of the crown prince. Leave at once.”

Again, there was no response.

Enraged, Jayasena stumbled out of bed and pulled the cloak off the woman.

But to his utter astonishment, it wasn’t a woman at all. It was a cactus. A tall, thick cactus covered in brightly colored feathers where there should have been thorns.

On closer observation, he saw a note fixed to the “arm” of the cactus which read—“Thanks for attending the swayamwar of Rukmini. If you can find no one to marry you after your embarrassing performance, marry this cactus. The feathers are soft enough to mimic the softness of a woman and useless enough to mimic your equally useless manhood. Good riddance!”

Jayasena flushed with rage and ripped the note to shreds before he could see it. Somehow, he would find a way to pay back the witch of Madurai. He would bide his time and humiliate her someday just as she had humiliated him.

Of course, he did not know that his opportunity would come in the form of his firecracker of a sister whose favorite lullaby was still echoing through the halls of the royal nursery.

XXXXX

“You were very harsh to him,” Vikramadeva said to Rukmini as they basked in each other’s company after the long day.

Despite her disgraceful display and the terrible nature of the challenge, nobody could say anything to Rukmini anymore because she had done even better for herself than her father. Mahishmati was an empire that controlled most, if not the entirety, of the southern peninsula of the Indian subcontinent. She would soon be the wife of the crown prince, and the would-be queen of that vast, endless imperial dynasty. Kunthala was a small, insignificant vassal kingdom by comparison. Even a thousand Kunthalas could not match up to the one and only Mahishmati.

But for now, she was with her beloved. She didn’t care for titles. She only cared about getting what she wanted.

“Oh! Loosen up,” she stuck her tongue out at her beloved. “All is fair in love and war. All this swayamwar drama could have been avoided had that loser never sent a proposal. No one sends a proposal to my father unless I allow it. He will think twice before sending any proposal to anyone after this.”

Vikramadeva laughed heartly and pulled Rukmini closer to himself.

“Well, now that this is settled, can we move on to more important topics?”

“Yes, and what would those be?”

“Well, the first is the name I wish you to take after marriage?”

“I like my name,” Rukmini pouted. “What’s wrong with it? I won’t change my name.”

Vikrama smiled tenderly at her.

“You don’t have to do it,” he said as he gently brought her lips close to his. “But I would like it if you did. There is a reason.”

“Tell me the reason first,” she purred softly into his strong chest.

“Rukmini is the fun, frolicky daughter of Madurai’s governor,” Vikrama’s voice was low and thoughtful. “But Rukmini cannot be the queen and eventually the queen mother of an empire as large and fractured as Mahishmati. From day one, people will look up to you to ease their pain, to hear their woes, to calm their fears… they need a wise woman of knowledge and duty. This sweet, naughty ‘shrew’ shall be only mine, and that too in the safety of our conjugal chambers.”

Rukmini considered his words. For the first time in their relationship, she thought about what it would mean to be the queen of Mahishmati.

“What name do you propose?” she asked him.

“Sivagami,” he answered. “The one who walks in the path of Siva. Durga and Parvathi, Kaali and Bhairavi. Life giving and death enforcing.”

She thought for several moments before answering him. In the end, she understood and agreed with his reasoning. He wanted her to rise above her petty, shallow, and vain self. He wanted her to grow into the shoes of a great queen, a woman who would be remembered kindly in history.

“I accept,” her words were simple. But something had shifted in her tone. Her life of mischief and antics was over. It was time to let go of her childish ways and embrace her destiny.

A Bridgeport man has been sentenced to four decades behind bars for his role in a 2020 fatal shooting that killed a Stamford woman, officials said. Ian Evans, 33, has been sentenced to 40 years in prison by a jury in Stamford Superior Court on Friday, according to the state Division of Criminal Justice. The sentencing comes after Evans was found guilty of first-degree manslaughter with a firearm,…