The Yagnya.
The golden brown cashews seemed to glow like gems on the smooth surface of pearly white milk. The ghee formed tiny swirls around the raisins, as if it had a mind of its own. This was truly the most divine payasam in the whole world! Little Audarika licked off his last portion from the leaf, as waiters clad in silk stood patiently next to him, as if they knew this would definitey not be the last. He loved this festival! He wanted the King to conduct Yagynas every month. The streets were filled with song and dance all day, there were new clothes for anyone who asked, horses and people from strange lands that he loved to stare at, and best of all - free food that tasted out of the world! His nerd friends were even able to drag him to the scholarly debates and tharkas he usually avoided, tricking him into thinking the food would taste extra special there (It did taste special alright, but mostly because he was just glad to get away).
Thousands of children like our Audarika and his friends, their fathers, mothers and grandparents, were having the time of their lives at the Ashwamedha Yagnya, even as the ritwiks toiled all day long to perform the initial invocations to Indra and several other Gods. The King was asked to crush the medicinal soma creeper and its juice was offered to the Gods. Once that was done, it was time to bring out the wooden ritual posts - twenty-one in all. Each was 21 cubits in length (a cubit is roughly 1.5 feet), with eight smooth surfaces pleated with gold - on Guru Vasishta’s precise instructions. The ritual posts were erected in the hall, decorated and worshipped. Various sacrificial animals were then tied to the posts, the bejewelled horse that had conquered several kingdoms, taking pride of place. It was time for the sacrifice.
Kausalya stepped up. Her sweaty palms gripped the thin golden needles tight, as she went around the horse three times. And then, as custom demanded, the Chief Queen began the sacrifice by piercing the horse at three strategic points. The other queens followed suit. The ritwiks took over from there and the women were sent to their chambers. The horse’s fat was drawn out and added to the sacrificial fire. The pungent smell was unbearable, but Dasharatha readily moved closer to take a strong whiff. It smelt like magic to him. The agni gleefully swallowed everything that was sent its way and the sacrifice was soon complete. Dasharatha’s heart was so gladdened, that he offered his entire kingdom to Rishyashringa, as part of the thanking ritual. The wise sage, however, promptly returned it to the king, in exchange for cows and gold. He then proceeded to address his now beloved master.
"I am satisfied, Dasharatha! The world is yet to see a king as dutiful and rightful as you. Your devotion to this Yagnya has been monumental and rest assured, it will not be in vain. I will now perform the Putrakameshti Yagnya, by which you will have four majestic sons".
The king thought he was going to burst. He watched spellbound, as the sage began another series of ritual procedures, his mantras echoing louder and louder across the hall. He clanged bells, poured more ghee into the fire and almost commanded it to rise higher and higher. Gods lined up in the skies above. The crowd grew pregnant with anticipation. They knew they were about to witness a miracle. And BANG!
Right there, in the middle of the fire, stood a towering figure. His skin was red, eyes jet black and his whole body translucent. Flowing hair and a long beard framed his face, quite like a lion’s mane. He looked like fire itself had assumed a human form. He held in his hand what seemed to be a pot of molten gold, filled with a payasam that would put our Audarika’s favourite to shame. He spoke in a booming voice.
"Blessed be you, O King! Give your wives this divine dessert that I bring from the Gods. It will give you the progeny you so desire", he declared.
Overcome with emotion, Dasharatha prostrated before the Being, before accepting the offering. No sooner had Dasharatha’s hands touched the divine pot, that the Yagnya purusha vanished without a trace. After seeking the blessings of Rishyashringa and the other wise sages in the hall, the King half-ran to meet his queens. Excited and out-of-breath, he narrated the events of the hall, quite like a child that had won a special prize in school. He then proceeded to distribute the elixir among his queens, who were by now more exhilarated than he. Kausalya, being the Chief Queen, received half of the pot’s portion and consumed it immediately, should the others rise in protest. Sumitra, coming second, received half of the remaining half. Kaikeyi, being last, received one-eighth of the portion. And then after much thought, the king gave the little that remained to Sumitra again, drawing pangs of jealously from her sisters.
Now it was all done. They couldn’t believe it. The magnitude of what had just happened slowly began to sink in. The queens seem to emanate a divine glow, resplendent with joy. Their prayers had been answered. Finally, everything felt right. At a complete loss for words, all four merely hugged each other in silence. Tears streamed down Dasharatha’s cheeks, but he did not bother to wipe them away. He finally cried out all the years of pain and anguish. Now all he had to do was wait.








