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Indian Mythology - Blog Posts
Devi Saraswati, the one who is dressed in a white attire, who is the epitome of knowledge and education, the one who governs learning in the Universe,
You hold the Veena and the book, you remove the darkness by illuminating our lives with the knowledge
You hold a garland of beads that sparkle and you are seated on a lotus that represents blossoming mindfulness.
I worship you, O mother Sharada, the Goddess of wisdom
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Also hope Maa saraswati blesses us to pass our exams and tests
वीणापाणी VEENAPANI (ବୀଣାପାଣି) ballpen rendition of maa Saraswati Artist: Bijay Biswaal. (via Instagram: Bijay Biswaal)
The Recognition of Śakuntalā, Kālidāsa/Sappho and Phao, John Lyle/Raja Ravi Varma
Meera
Rana vish ro pyala bheja
Piya magan hoya
Meera ri lagan lagya
Kodh ho jo gaya....
Arjun and Vasudeva moments
"You remind me of my father," he murmured.
The words were softer, almost lost in the stillness of the room, but everyone heard them. The teasing stopped. The smirks faded. The easy mirth in Krishna's eyes dimmed just a little.
Vasudeva, who had been gently supporting Arjuna all this time, stilled. He knew whom Arjuna was speaking of.
Pandu.
His old friend. His comrade. A man taken too soon.
Arjuna's amber eyes were heavy-lidded, hazy with sleep and intoxication, but behind them- there was clarity. A deep, distant emotion settled in them, something that had been there for years but had never truly been spoken aloud.
"I don't remember him much," Arjuna admitted, his voice dipping into something low, something fragile. "I was too young when he left us. But I remember his voice. I remember how gentle he was. How... how he always looked at us like we were his whole world."
Satyaki, who had been leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, uncrossed them. Pradyumna's amused expression faded into something softer. Even Kritavarma, usually composed, lowered his gaze, it felt like intruding in a private conversation.
Arjuna's hand curled slightly against his knee. He exhaled slowly, carefully, as if trying to gather himself, but the words kept coming.
"Jestha bhrata remembers him the most," he murmured, his lips quirking in a way that was neither a smile nor a frown. Just... something aching. "He was the one who held us together after. He was the one who carried all of us when we had no one."
Krishna-ever perceptive, ever knowing-closed his eyes.
"He never got to be a child."
