Chapter Text
Aprameya stands behind her mother as the door opens, peeking out curiously.
The man outside is huge—tall and broad-shouldered—and dressed entirely like a sanyasi. She has never seen someone dressed like this in real life. Only in plays the older kids at school put on.
“Is your mother-in-law home, ma?” the man asks.
“Yes, please come in. I’ll call her,” Amma says, stepping aside. She goes inside, leaving Aprameya alone with him in the living room.
Aprameya tilts her head, studying him.
“Do you always wear clothes like that?” she asks, curiosity winning over shyness.
He smiles. “Yes. Why?”
“My appa and chithappa also wear dhoti like that,” she says thoughtfully, “but they wear pant and shirt to office. Do they allow you to go to office dressed like this?”
He chuckles softly. “I live in a jungle. I don’t go to an office.”
“Oh.” She processes this. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Maruti. And you?”
“I’m Aprameya. J. I study in Kendriya Vidyalaya, seventh C. I’m second rank in my class.”
She delivers it like a memorized introduction.
“Oh?” he says, amused. “So you’re twelve years old and already second rank? That’s impressive.”
She likes him instantly. He makes her feel comfortable, not talked down to.
Her paati comes out then and freezes for just a moment—long enough that Aprameya notices. Then she composes herself.
“Namaskaram,” paati says, folding her hands. “Can I receive your blessings?”
Maruti smiles and nods.
Paati bends in namaskara, then immediately calls the rest of the family and tells them to do the same. Everyone obeys without question.
Amma sends Aprameya to the kitchen. “Go bring some betel leaves and good mangoes from the backyard.”
Aprameya turns to Jayashree. “Keep an eye on Padmapriya,” she says automatically.
She returns with four betel leaves and an armful of mangoes. She hands the leaves and four mangoes to amma for the vethala paaku tray, then takes the remaining mangoes to appa along with a knife and cutting board.
Chithi tells her to take the girls and go play in the other room while the adults talk.
Aprameya does, carrying a small portion of cut mango for herself and her sisters.
The next day, paati gathers everyone and announces that they will be going to a temple in the Himalayas.
Aprameya is thrilled.
She has only ever seen the Himalayas in her geography textbook.
They are going to travel by train to Delhi.
That’s two whole days.
Aprameya loves trains.
She gets her paatu class notebook ready for antakshari games, collects smooth pebbles for kallaanga- she always wins because Jayashree's hand is too small, and folds her clothes carefully so amma can pack them into the suitcase. She even folds Jayashree's clothes the same way, neat and compact.
The past week has been exhausting. Ever since Maruti's visit, there have been functions one after the other. First was appa’s cousin’s wedding. Then amma’s cousin had her valaikappu (some of her aunt's friends called it a baby shower, but why? It's a function for the mom, not the baby). After that came her cousin’s first birthday, all the way in Kanyakumari, which meant a long car journey from Chennai.
Cars are horrible. Too cramped. They make her feel sick. Eugh.
Trains are way better.
After Delhi, they’ll have to travel by bus. Aprameya already knows she’s going to hate that part, so she is determined to enjoy the train journey as much as possible.
And it is wonderful.
Amma and Chithi have packed puliyodharai, ellodharai, and thakkali saadham—tamarind rice, sesame rice, and tomato rice respectively—enough for two days. There’s also vatha kuzhambu. And curd rice can be bought anywhere in the country. Thayir saadham with vatha kuzhambu is her favourite combination.
When she isn’t playing with Jayashree and Archita, she sits close to paati and listens to her stories.
Those are the best part.
Her favourite is the one about Hanuman going to Lanka and causing so much trouble that Ravana gets furious enough to set his tail on fire. Only Hanuman uses that fire to burn down the entire city instead.
He’s so awesome.
It’s like he's saying, Don’t mess with my swami. If I can do this much damage alone, imagine what He can do.
She also loves the stories about Krishna stealing butter and the gopis complaining to maa Yashoda. Imagining Krishna and his friends eating all the butter, feeding some to stray animals, and then breaking the pots anyway makes her giggle every single time.
Over the two days, Jayashree and Padmapriya throw far more tantrums than usual. It’s annoying—but Aprameya has the window seat.
She leans into the breeze, lets the noise happen around her, and enjoys herself anyway.
Amma and chithi leave appa and chithappa to handle the chaos and settle in with Aprameya and paati instead. They’re in the middle of a very animated discussion about Prahlada—about how he stayed so confident even with an angry father standing right in front of him.
Appa and chithappa don’t complain. They can’t.
Paati keeps Amma and Chithi engaged, her voice cheerful but firm, the kind that says this trip is for enjoyment too—and that responsibilities will be shared whether they like it or not.
Finally, they reach their hotel in Delhi. The plan is to rest for one day, and then they will continue to the temple.
By bus. Ugh.
It's a ten hour journey, and the departure is at 8pm. Good. She will sleep until it's time to get off the bus. It's a pity to miss the beautiful mountain view, but at least she won't be vomiting all the food out.
Sacrifices. No fun. Tch.
Aprameya wakes up to the sound of people singing bhajans.
She loves bhajans.
“Radhe Radhe Radhe Radhe Raaaaadhe Govinda.”
“Radhe Radhe Radhe Radhe Raaaaadhe Govinda.”
“Vrundavana Chanda.”
“Vrundavana Chanda.”
“Anaatha naatha deena bandhu, o, Radhe Govinda.”
“Anaatha naatha deena bandhu, o, Radhe Govinda.”
As the bhajan ends, Aprameya doesn’t even think.
She stands up on her seat, grinning, and starts the next one in a loud, clear voice.
“Shankara Shankara Parvati Maheshwara—”
For half a second, the clapping stops.
Someone laughs softly. Someone else looks up.
Then the entire train joins in without hesitation.
“Shankara Shankara Parvati Maheshwara.”
Aprameya’s smile grows impossibly wide.
“Chandra Mouli Shankara, Chandra Shekhara—”
“Chandra Mouli Shankara, Chandra Shekhara.”
“Nandi Vaahanaa-aa, Naaga Bhushanaa—”
“Nandi Vaahanaa-aa, Naaga Bhushanaa.”
“Neelakantha shooladhaari Gowri Shankara—”
“Neelakantha shooladhaari Gowri Shankara.”
By the end, her hands are clapping along with everyone else’s. She ducks her head shyly, still smiling, as the applause turns toward her.
They continued singing bhajans until they reached the Shikhara Kshetra, where the temple they were going to was located.
It was 6am. She usually gets up at 6:30 everyday, so she decided to help everyone to get settled and unpack the bags and suitcases when amma told her to go to sleep. She liked helping her mother, so she told amma that she'll help.
She got saddled with making sure Jayashree and Padmapriya kept sleeping. This was not what she meant when she said she'll help, but now she's committed herself to this. Hmph. Fiiiiine, she'll do it, ma.
Now that everyone except her and her sisters had taken a shower, it was Aprameya’s turn. She went happily, appa taking over the important job of keeping the girls asleep.
If they didn’t brush their teeth soon after waking up, they would get suuuuper cranky. Which meant tantrums.
Was she like that when she was small? Nah. She was probably a very good kid.
After her shower, Aprameya changed into a paavadai-chattai. She’d packed her favourite peacock-blue set, of course. Amma was busy coaxing Jayashree into drinking her milk, so Aprameya went to chithi instead and asked her to braid her hair.
She really didn’t understand why Jayashree hated milk. Aprameya loved it.
After her hair was done, chithi was waking Padmapriya and steering her toward the bathroom to brush her teeth. Apparently, two-year-olds couldn’t brush properly on their own. Jayashree had only started doing it herself after her sixth birthday last year.
Aprameya went to Appa and asked him to apply thirumann-sricharanam on her forehead. They were going to the temple today. Otherwise, she’d just put a bindi.
That’s when appa and chithappa told her they were stepping out to see why there were military people around.
“Can I come too?” Aprameya asked immediately. She wanted to see if they had real guns, like in the movies.
“No,” Appa said, a little too firmly. “You can’t, da. This is an adult conversation, okay?”
His face was serious in a way she wasn’t used to.
She pouted. “Fine. I’ll stay here.”
Appa patted her head as he walked past. Chithappa followed him, looking tense.
Jagannadhan had had a difficult year. His appa had passed away, and that hurt even if he knew that it would happen weeks before it did. The day after the varshabdigam- the first anniversary of death, his mother insisted that they take this trip because she met Hanuman ji, apparently. It was an absurd claim. She said that Maruti, the man who visited their home is actually Hanuman from the Ramayan.
Jagan was happy to take this vacation with his family. Aprameya, his eldest, had been badgering him to take her to the Himalayas from the moment she heard in her Geography class that it was in India. He was honestly worried about her curious nature, sometimes she didn't even realize that questioning things would be dangerous, or that people might take offense. Jayashree was comparatively a lot more street smart, but she didn't question anything that seemed fundamental.
"Anna, you go to the check-post for the security clearance, I'll go buy the fruits and flowers for the archanai." his brother brought him back from his wandering thoughts. Jinnu had always been good at keeping him focused.
"Ok, da. Make sure that they are all fresh. We need to climb the 500 steps to reach the temple. The fruits and flowers need to be fresh when we offer it to Bhagwan, no?"
"Dei, all that I know, ok? You just do that security clearance, anna." He was tense, He had been like this all morning because his veshti had a small, barely noticable stain on it, and it bothered his cleanliness-obsessed ass.
"Ok, da. I'll take care of this. You chill. Maybe take a stroll after you buy the fruits and flowers." Jagan smiled and went to the check-post.
Jinnu went to buy the fruits and flowers.
Jagan approached the check-post and saw that there were two officers standing there. "Hello. I'm here with my family, and we are planning to visit the temple. I noticed that there is a military presence here. Is there some sort of procedure we need to follow before going ahead?"
The taller man nodded. His name badge read Rakesh Khanna.
“Yes,” he said. “We’ll need to see all your passports before letting you proceed. Only Hindus are allowed beyond this point.”
Jagan nodded, "Okay, so I don't need to do any formalities now, right?"
"No."
"Thank you." Jagan came back and saw Jinnu returning with the flowers and fruits.
"Formalities all complete ah?" Jinnu asked.
"Illa da. They said that we only need to show our passport before entering. He knew I was a hindu when he saw the thirumann-sricharanam, so told me to bring just our passports."
"Oh. Okay, then." Jinnu paused, "Hey, do you think Amma didn't want to come here with us? She interacts just fine with the kids, but I feel like she's been distant with us."
"I think seeing us take over some small things that Appa used to do bothers her just a bit. I kinda saw something in her face when I switched on the news channel early in the morning the other day. You know, Appa used to be the one to do that. It'll probably pass. It's just been one year since he passed, no? Maybe she just needs more time."
"Yeah, maybe." They had reached the guesthouse.
They are bombarded with the sound of Jayashree loudly complaining that her pavadai-chattai is making her sweat a lot as soon as they open the door.
Jinnu looks at her, "It's only one day. Adjust, no?"
Jayashree looks at him, "But Chithappa! It's so hot in this dress!"
Aprameya looks at her, "I told you so many times, It will get colder the higher we climb. And we have to climb a lot."
"Ugh. Fiiiiiine. But I'm changing as soon as we're back here. Hmph." Aprameya rolls her eyes at her sister's whining.
"Alright. Is everyone ready? It's time to go." Jagan declares.
All of them depart and go to the check-post.
As soon as they reached the check-post, Jagan stepped forward and began making the introductions, handing over the passports one by one.
“My mother, Lakshmi,” he said.
His Amma stepped forward, signed the visitors’ register, and moved aside.
“Me—Jagannadhan. And my wife, Hemambhujanayaki.”
They both signed next.
“My daughters, Aprameya and Jayashree.”
Aprameya signed carefully, tongue peeking out in concentration. Jayashree followed, far less interested in the process.
“My brother, Varadharajan.”
Jinnu signed, then stepped aside to make room for his wife.
“His wife, Shrividhya,” Jagan continued. “And their daughter, Padmapriya.”
Shrividhya signed for herself and her two-year-old, adjusting Padmapriya on her hip as she did.
Aprameya always called her signature an autograph. Amma had told her that there were Tathastu-devathaigal all around us, and whenever we say anything, they say 'tathastu', making all our words come true. She always wanted her signature to be an autograph, so she never called it a signature. Now, appa said that she needed to autograph the visitors' register to see Bhagwan. So yeah, she gave Bhagwan her autograph. It was procedure, but autographs should always be stylish and neat.
Anyways, now appa is telling everyone that we need to climb 500 reach the temple. Makes sense, y'know. Bhagwan is soo beautiful, 500 steps is nothing. Everyone would climb even 5000 steps to get darshan.
The climb was fun- for the first 50 steps. The steps became steeper. "What is this, Bhagwan. We're coming here to see you, and you're making the path difficult?! hmph. I'll climb anyway and complain to you when I get darshan." Aprameya thinks, while glaring at the steps ahead.
Chithappa is carrying Padmariya and appa has Jayashree sat on his shoulders. Why is she the only kid that has to walk?! It's not fair that everyone else, including paati, has longer legs than her. Sure, they wait for her, but she feels mean for making them wait. She's walking between amma and chithi who haul her up the stair if it is too steep for her to climb on her own. Like she's some kind of grocery bag that's too heavy for a single person to carry.
Somehow, even this becomes fun when Aprameya starts singing. Especially when Jayashree joins. Sure, it's more tiring, but it's also more fun. She would usually feel the urge to stop and rest, but she feels energetic and not tired as they continue up the mountain. It's almost like reverse-tiredness. The more they walk, the less tired the become, and the bhajans start sounding more echo-y.
In the few breaks that Aprameya and Jayashree take to rest their voices, paati tells stories of the Dashavatars. The way she tells those stories is honestly so entertaining that a few other groups also join them. There was this old couple and their son who spoke in not-tamil. So obviously Aprameya had to ask, "What language is that?"
"Oh, we speak Marathi, kiddo." The son answered.
"Like how Chatrapati Shivaji spoke?" Her face lit up at the possibility of a new story. "Oh, Oh. Also Panduranga is from Maharashtra, no? Like Abhanga for Panduranga we sing?"
"Yeah, kid. Exactly like that." All three of them were smiling. Aprameya turned to her paati, "Paati, tell the story of Panduranga, no? Please. Please please please?
Paati laughed and started the story.
On the way, they learnt that these people's names were Ghanshyam and Rukmini Kulkarni and their son was Pradyom Kulkarni. They were very fun and were curious about the family's culture.
"So, you all are from Tamil Nadu?" Rukmini asked.
"Yes, aunty. From Chennai." Hena replied. Aprameya was busy listening to paati's story and entirely zoned out of all conversations.
"You know, I noticed that you all are wearing sarees similar to the dhoti style drape that we use in Maharashtra. Don't most people were the normal saree drape?" She was curious.
"Oh yeah. The madisaar drape. This saree is nine yards, not the usual six yards. We use this specially do drape with kachcham (pronounced kach-cham). Only married people get to wear their dhoti or saree this way because. Well, responsibilities grow a lot after marriage, and draping in this stye gives more mobility and ease to move around." Hema replies
"For men also, ah? No dhoti style drape until marriage?" Ghanshyam asks.
"Yeah. They just wrap the veshti around their waist, it's more casual and informal. Obviousy married people can also wear their sarees and veshtis in the non-married way if they want, but it's considered to be informal and underdressed." Vidhya joined the conversation.
"By the way, your eldest daughter sings really well. Does she do any official programs and performances? I'm an organizer of classical music programs, that's why I'm asking." Pradyom asks.
"Beta, we came here to get you a break and you're still thinking about work. Relax, na." His mom interrupted.
"Maa, please. You asked the same question to me yesterday when you heard her voice."
"Fine, fine." She rolled her eyes at him.
"No, She's still learning. She just sings whenever she wants randomly. I don't think she is interested in performances right now, but I'll ask her about it." Hema ended that line of conversation firmly.
There were lots of people at the temple. Jagan would estimate at least 300 people. He pulled Hema and Aprameya closer, keeping a hand on Jayashree's foot as she sat on his shoulder. He saw Jinnu pull amma and Vidhya closer as he held Padmapriya. Surprisingly, There were very few kids except for the three that were in his family. There was no queue for the darshan, the door to the sannadhi was closed. There were four archakaas and he was positive he saw a large number of people in military uniform.
The older man, who seemed to be the father of the other three archakaas spoke, his voice carrying over the crowd effortlessly. "Jai Shri Ram."
A silence filled the temple as every single person turned towards him, "We have some very important people who want to meet us, and they want to tell us something."
Then he turned around and joined the crowd.
They do not arrive with spectacle.
One moment the space is empty. The next, it is not.
Vyaasa steps forward first. His presence is calm in a way that settles people rather than stills them.
“My name is Vyaasa,” he says. “We are here because something has gone wrong, and because you deserve to know what that something is.”
He gestures lightly.
“Vibhishana. Mahabali. Parashuraama. Kripachaarya.”
A pause.
“Hanuman is here. Ashvatthama as well.”
Ashwatthama stands apart, arms crossed, gaze distant.
Vyasa continues.
“There is an energy interacting with this universe that does not belong to it,” he says. “It does not think the way people do. It does not intend cruelty. It only seeks sustenance. It cannot draw directly from the world,” he says. “So it looks for intermediaries—systems stable enough to channel energy without collapsing.”
He looks at the gathered crowd.
“Most of you qualify.”
A murmur ripples through the people.
Hanumān speaks, voice steady and familiar.
“Your seven chakras are aligned,” he says. “Balanced. Inactive. You are not practitioners, but you are… prepared.”
“Through temperament, discipline, and accumulated saṃskaras,” Mahabali adds.
Vyaasa nods, “To that energy,” he says, “you are ideal mediums. Quiet ones. Ones that would not notice what is being taken until the cost becomes unavoidable.”
Someone asks, softly, “What cost?”
Vyāsa does not avoid the question, “If you stay,” he says, “the energy will attach slowly. At first, it will feel like exhaustion. Emotional heaviness. Loss of clarity.”
Kripachaarya continues, “Over time, this will become illness, shortened lifespans, instability in children yet unborn. The land itself will thin.”
“And once the pattern is established,” Parashurama says, “it will spread. Not just through you.”
Silence follows.
Hanuman adds, gently but firmly, “We can protect sacred spaces. We can shield forests, kṣetras, temples.”
“But we cannot protect ordinary life indefinitely,” Vyāsa says. “Not without unacceptable damage.”
Someone else asks, “So what do we do?”
“One option,” Vyaasa says, “is removal.”
He waits.
“There is a mechanism that can move you out of this universe entirely,” he says. “If you are not here, the energy loses its access. It will move on.”
“Where would we go?” someone asks.
Vyaasa shakes his head.
“That can't be predicted,” he says. “or controlled.”
“You would not return,” Kripachaarya adds. “This is not travel. It is displacement.”
“And what happens to us there?” another voice asks.
Hanuman answers this time.
“That will be your life,” he says simply. “What happens will be up to you.”
Vyaasa looks at the group carefully.
“We are not here to persuade you,” he says. “or to select who leaves and who stays.”
“If everyone chooses to remain,” Mahabali says, “we will continue containment here. And it will cost you your ability to leave the kshetra.”
“But that is a valid choice,” Vyaasa says. “It will be respected.”
Ashwatthama speaks at last, voice rough.
“There is no painless option,” he says. “Only honest ones.”
Vyaasa inclines his head.
“You will decide,” he says. “Individually or together.”
“We will act,” Hanuman finishes, “after you do.”
Only the weight of choice remains.
Aprameya is confused. Why is everyone so frowny when Hanuman is here? Like seriously, people. This guy is literally Sankat Mochan. What more do you want?
She lets go of amma's hand and goes to Hanuman, "So, did you really carry the entire mountain from here to Lanka and back here again? The Sanjeevani Parvat?"
Hanuman looks at her and chuckles, "Yeah. I had to bring the medicine for lots of people, so I thought that instead of taking the time to gather the herbs, I would just take the whole mountain. Now you tell me, are you not going to make a decision on whether to stay here or go to the other universe?"
That makes Aprameya pause, as she senses that everyone else is watching them closely, "I am, but my decision is going to be based on my parents' decision. If they decide to go, I'll go with them, and if they decide to stay, I'll stay. I'm dependent on them at this age, no? I'm not going to take tension about their choice right now." She shrugs.
"So you don't have any opinions or preferences?" Hanuman smiles at her.
"Of course I do. But I can't always do what I want. Sometimes, I gotta do what is needed. Right now, my parents need me to go with their decision, so that's what I'm going to do. Anyways. You tell me na, is it fun to fly across the ocean?"
Hanuman laughs at her redirection, "To me, it is fun. But others' opinion may differ."
"Is it anything like how it feels to go really fast on a cycle? Like the wind on your face and the feeling of going really fast?"
"You tell me when you learn how to fly on your own." He challenged her.
She grinned at him, "I will. I'll say Jai Shri Ram and just tell. You'll hear that no matter how far we are, no?"
A guy who looked to be her age came and stood at her side, "That can't be true. So many people say Jai Shri Ram all the time. You hear everything they say, ah?"
Aprameya looked at him, "He's super smart, bro. His guru is Suryadev, who knows literally everything, and he taught Hanuman ji all of that, no? That's what I heard, at least. What's your name, by the way?"
He looked at her, "I'm Arjun. You are?"
She smiles at him, "Aprameya. So, you also came here today morning?"
"No. I've been living here for the past month."
"What about school? Don't you go to school?"
"I am homeschooled. From online, you know. I did go to school last year, seventh standard. But then my papa got posting here, so my eighth standard is homeschooling."
Jayashree came near where Aprameya and Arjun were sat in the temple and sat next to her. She had Padmapriya in her arms.
"They are my sisters. Jayashree and Padmapriya. Technically Padmapriya is my cousin, but we live together, so who cares." She introduces both her sisters to Arjun and Hanuman ji.
Hanuman smiles at them, "Hello."
"Hello." Jayashree says politely
Noticing the crowd of kids, a lot more kids join us, leaving the adults to their broody decision making.
There are a lot of kids who live in this place, which is surprising to Aprameya because there are no schools here.
She looks at the oldest guy of the group, Bharat, who is in 11th class, "So, you guys don't have homework?"
He nods, "Yeah. Because all work we do is homework. Because our home is our school."
Bheem, who is Arjun's older brother, in 10th class joins in, "You could also say that all the work we do is schoolwork, you know."
Bharat grins at him, "But that's no fun"
The parents are relieved to see all the kids getting along under the watchful eye of Hanuman ji.
Lakshmi has decided to stay behind. She just lost her husband last year, and she feels like her life is fulfilled and she doesn't want to start over. She has full confidence that Jagan and Jinnu, her sons, are capable enough to handle their families. Especially with their wives at their sides. She also knows that Aprameya will pass on the stories that she had told her down to her younger granddaughters. What else would a human want to fulfill in their life?
She called Jagan, Hema, Jinnu and Vidhya to her side, "I'm going to stay behind, but I think all of you should go ahead and start that new life."
All of them stared at her blankly. Yes, she was only 70, and she was very active and fit for her age, but they didn't understand how content she was. And they shouldn't understand it because they shouldn't feel that kind of contentment in their age.
"Amma, stop joking. All of us will go." Jinnu said. He had always been the one who was most open with his emotion to her.
"Illa da. You guys should go. I've lived out my life fully. I don't feel the motivation or need to start a new life. And you all are capable of taking care of yourselves, so I won't worry about you. I'll instead send you aaseervadham everyday."
"Are you sure about this, ma? You'll be alone here. For the last phase of your life..." Jagan was hiding his emotions behind logic. He had always done this.
"I'll be fine. It's better for me to live here peacefully rather than to build my life from scratch in some unknown universe."
"The kids will be devastated..." Hema had already taken over most of her duties over the course of her grieving time. She was being responsible again.
"I'll talk to Aprameya. She'll be able to handle Jayashree and Padmapriya. I'll just be more peaceful staying behind, is what my gut is telling me. You all will always have my love and blessings. Especially all the good fortune that I've racked up my entire life by praying to Bhagwan, I'll send it all your way."
Vidhya was just standing there silently, nodding to her, not knowing how to react. Lakshmi patted her shoulder and smiled, when she looked at her, "You all will be fine."
Paati called Aprameya to her.
"Yeah, paati?"
"You all are going to go to the other universe, but I have decided to stay behind."
Aprameya made a confused face, "So amma and appa have decided to stay behind...?"
"No. You all are still going."
"So, you're coming with us?" Aprameya was confused. Were they staying or leaving?
"No, dear. You all are going, but I am staying." That made Aprameya pause.
"But we're a family."
"Yes, we are."
"So we should be together. Like a family."
"Kanna, I want some me-time in this phase of my life. Do you understand?
"But that's not fair. You won't be telling stories to Jayashree and Padmapriya, then." Aprameya made a frowny face.
"No, but you will be telling them the stories, no? You're really good at that, by the way."
"But- but it's not the same." She was upset. So upset. Tears were gathering in her eyes.
"No, but I'm older than I was when you were seven or two years old. I need my rest."
She hugged her paati tightly, crying into her saree, "Not fair, but you need rest. Sacrifices. No fun. Tch." She was crying this time.
That Night
The chiranjeevis had gathered the people who wanted to go to the new world and grab the new life by its horns. It was time to start the process of going to another universe.
"We will only be running the energy of this kshetra through your body. The goal is to just feel it. The alignment of the chakras in your body. Many toxins and blockades in your body will be removed. You will need to feel it. Words will not be able to describe that feeling." Vyaasa explained as everyone was meditating.
Aprameya was sincerely following all the directions, but found it boring.
This went on for a few hours.
After hours of guided stillness, Vyāsa finally raised his hand. “That is enough. Now we engage it. Time for bhajans”
Finally, they could stop doing nothing. Aprameya liked meditating, but she didn't like it when someone told her what to do.
Anyways, the bhajans kept her captivated. The beat, and the verses drawing her in.
"Govardhana Giridhaaraa, Govinda, Gokula baalaka paramaananda- aa" She was zoned out, the words ringing in her ears, the image of Krishna holding up the Govardhan hill on his pinky finger, protecting the entire village from being flooded. The entire world shrunk to just her and the image she had constructed. It was very difficult to hold the image, but somehow, it held still.
The universe bent. An abandoned summoning seal lit up in the ruins of the long-dead civilization that had been called Uzushiogakure. Three hundred people popped into existence, their travel powered by the cosmic reset and triggered by their own meditation-energy-high. The chakra energy released was so faint that nobody realized it.
These people felt that cosmic energy thrumming in their chakra system, filling them with energy they were yet to figure out.