Portfolio Guide

I See Fire

A nightmare that is a reality

The King's Shadow
A poem praising Lakshmana for the great warrior that he was

Just a Dream
Sita and Rama's first connection in Sita's POV

Brothers
The rivalry of the Pandavas vs Kauravas at its finest

Brothers (Week 14: Storytelling)

Nakula lifted his shield, catching a blow and pounding into Sahadeva’s shield with his own sword. The clashing of metal shook through the castle grounds, echoing off the stone walls surrounding the perimeter.

Standing a short distance away with his arms folded, Bhima nodded in approval at his brothers, a trace of a smile gracing his lips. “Excellent swing, Nakula. You’re improving.”

Nakula’s eyes crinkled from the praise but lost their shine as soon as they spotted a familiar figure approaching.

“Bhima—“ he began, but his brother raised his hand, cutting his speech short. Nakula turned to Sahadeva, exchanging a worried look before returning his gaze to the scene that was about to take place before them.

Taking a few steps ahead of his siblings, Bhima came face-to-face with the man.

“Hello, cousin.”

“Bhima,” Duryodhana spat out.

“Here to fight me again?” Bhima chuckled, a smug expression plastered on his face. And just to emphasize his superiority, he inched closer and poked Duryodhana square in the chest, causing some of the Kaurava brothers positioned behind Duryodhana to shift forward, hands folded into fists.

Duryodhana signaled them with his hand and they immediately backed up, though still tense.

“We’re only here to train fo—“ His words were left suspended in air as he whipped his head back to avoid the mace swinging in his direction.

“What the hell is your problem!” he heard his brother yell at Bhima, stomping towards him.

“Dushasana, stop,” Duryodhana called out, his order immediately taking effect. Dushasana turned to him with sad eyes, wanting to help his sibling against the one man that always wreaked havoc amongst the Kauravas. “But, brother…”

Duryodhana returned his attention to Bhima. “No, Dushasana. This is my fight.”

Bhima twisted his lips into a malicious grin.

“When will you learn, cousin? No matter how many times you try, this is just one battle you’ll never win.”

Boiling over, Duryodhana thrust his weapon at Bhima who countered the attack with his mace, the two rods clanging loudly against each other.

Bhima let out a haughty laugh, shoving his opponent to the ground.

“Your skills are lacking, cousin,” he taunted, knowing very well how calling Duryodhana ‘cousin’ aggravated him to no end and would make him lose focus.

“My skills are far superior to yours,” Duryodhana hissed, trying not to let his anger get the best him. But as always, it did, and he failed to notice Bhima’s mace swinging full force towards his face.

Unable to retaliate with his own weapon in time, he raised his hands to protect himself from the strike when an arrow chafed over Bhima’s right hand, making him loosen his grip and causing the mace to fly over Duryodhana, hitting the ground with a soft thud.

Everyone’s gaze shifted towards the cause of this interruption. Even Arjuna, a few yards away, stopped his practice and turned to look.

“Brother,” Duryodhana smiled.

Karna met his eyes and returned the smile. Duryodhana got up, pushing Bhima out of the way and went to embrace his closest companion. “You’ve returned.”

“Yes, and just in time to save you from a terrible fate,” Karna replied, patting his back.

“Have you done as I instructed you?” Duryodhana whispered.

Karna nodded in affirmation.

The reunion was soon enough disrupted when Arjuna strode up to them, making his presence known by jabbing the blunt end of his arrow into Karna’s shoulder.

“For what reason have you returned?” Arjuna prodded. “You are not permitted to compete with us.”

Duryodhana grabbed the end of the arrow and thrust it back at Arjuna.

“You’re speaking to the King of Anga,” Duryodhana proudly declared. “So back off.”

Arjuna cocked up his brow. “King of Anga?”

Karna stepped forward. “That’s right.”

After contemplating for a moment, Arjuna turned around and started walking away.

“Well then! King of Anga!” he yelled over his shoulder. “What say you and I have a duel?”

All the Kauravas and the three other Pandavas present on the field now crowded around the two rivals, anticipating what was to come.

“You see those straw birds placed on the tree?” Arjuna said.

Karna craned his neck to look.

“The target,” Arjuna announced, “is their eye.”

He strung the arrow along the bow and fired at his goal. It darted straight into its eye, the bird falling off the tree.

“Your turn,“ he said with a smirk on his face, which was soon wiped clean as he watched Karna’s arrow whip past him and pierce through his arrow on the same target before it hit the ground.

Duryodhana’s smug countenance showed he was more than elated at seeing the Pandavas get a taste of their own medicine. Behind him, all his brothers were cheering while the Pandavas stood silent, Bhima surveying the scene with stern eyes.

The competition continued for a while until Arjuna realized that this could go on forever.

“There is one last target,” he announced forebodingly, his head lowered.

Karna drew his bow, ready to fire.

"The target is you," Arjuna whispered, releasing his arrow.

Duryodhana screamed, his eyes shutting tightly. Karna is dead.

He opened his eyes. Bhima was standing in front of him. The war around them. And all his family sprawled across the battleground, lifeless.

"This is your end," Bhima said as he slashed through him, making his world dark once more.

Family Rivalry

Source: imgkid

Author's Note: Okay, so this is was not how I imagined writing this out and I don't like the way I wrote it too much either. In my mind, the scene played out beautifully and I was really attempting to describe the visual in my head in words but I had a serious case of writer's block. I also didn't expect my story to reach so close to the 1000 limit mark so I had to cut down a whole lot.

My focus for this story was Duryodhana and Karna. There bond is one I've grown to love even though they are the antagonists in the story. I started to see them as the underdog, despite all the things they did to the Pandavas. I was sort of trying to be a lawyer and present their case from a different perspective because I really felt bad for them and the situation they were stuck in.

I wanted to at least for one of my stories show the Pandavas-Kauravas rivalry so I decided to have kind of a "flashback scene" where it was a typical day in which they were training. I altered a few things from the story where Karna comes in, now the King of Anga. I can't quite remember but I'm pretty sure Duryodhana was with him while he was attempting to acquire that position. Also, I doubt Karna would come straight to where they'd be training after becoming King of Anga but for the sake of the story, it had to be done! The flashback ended with Duryodhana coming back to reality—reality being the war to remember that Karna is not only dead in his flashback but for real. I wanted to show how consumed he was by the thought of Karna's death that that was all he could think about after hearing about it—hence the flashback scene.

Bibliography: Buck, William (1973). Mahabharata.  

The King's Shadow (Week 7: Storytelling)

There were two brothers—

Together they flowed,

Together they travelled,

On the same road.

One was the king,

The other his shadow,

Behind his radiant half,

Forever aglow.

With the king he remained true,

With the king he stuck fierce,

Like a silent shadow,

The king’s enemies he did pierce.

And in all their time together,

He never faltered nor did he fade,

For his loyalty was unrivaled,

Till his last moment came.

My brother, the king thought,

It may not often appear,

How much you mean to me,

How much I hold you dear.

Like when I was exiled,

You need not have done so,

But without any hesitation,

You, too, said you’d go.

And leaving the comforts

Of our family, our home,

For fourteen long years,

With me, you would roam.

You think I’d not noticed?

I may not have shown.

But on that dark day,

My love for you had grown.

My brother, we’ve been through

Many hurdles and tests,

And sometimes what feels

Like never-ending quests.

That one time, for example,

Where Ravana came,

And took my sweet wife,

With no care and no shame.

It was then I felt lost,

But wasn’t consumed by fear,

For through those restless nights,

You were always near.

And with me you were,

As we stormed through the lands,

Till the very moment,

She returned safe into my hands.

My brother, your loyalty

Always leaves me inspired.

No matter what I ask,

You never grow tired.

Even the hardest of tasks,

Like Sita’s exile to the river,

Had you conflicted,

But you did deliver.

All that way you took her,

And with her, I’m sure you wanted to stay,

For you have a good heart,

One that does not sway.

I’m sorry for the pain

I may have caused you,

But my faith and my trust

Have multiplied by two.

My brother, the king smiled,

Your spirit I admire.

In you there burns

A passionate fire.

Your strength held steady,

Even on your last day,

When Time came to visit,

And made you his prey.

I wish you looked back,

After I dealt you the news,

That you’d entered our meeting,

So through death pay your dues.

But silently you left,

Without a single protest.

I’ll never forget you;

You were the best.

Lakshmana, the shadow,

Knew all this in heart.

He felt all that his brother thought,

When they both did forever part.

And with his last breath,

Lakshmana lay beside the water,

And peacefully rested,

And let his mind wander.

And slowly death's arms took him,

Leaving only memories of his face,

The king’s brother, his shadow,

Now gone without a trace.

Author's Note: I just wanted to write a poem to commemorate Lakshmana's death at the end of Buck's Narayana. Time had come to see Rama and requested to have a meeting with him. He had told Rama not to let anyone interrupt their meeting otherwise that person would die, so Rama told Lakshmana to guard the door. In that time, a sage came and threatened Lakshmana to let him see Rama or else he would destroy the city. Lakshmana then had to interrupt the meeting and as a result, die.  

I always had an appreciation for the love Lakshmana had for Rama and how much he cared for his brother. It was something I admired and so felt it fitting to have my final story for the Ramayana be one to show how much Lakshmana meant to me. The first and last paragraph of this poem is just a beginning and a closing not from anyone's perspective, but all the paragraphs in between I wrote from Rama's perspective. This poem was one I wanted to write from Rama to Lakshmana to show that Rama, too, appreciated all that his brother did for him. This is what I felt Rama wanted to say as Lakshmana was walking away towards his death after entering Rama's conference with Time. When Rama told Lakshmana, he didn't say a word and left but I wanted to convey his feelings and this is what I thought might have been running through his head at the time. His ending is one I was the most sad about; his loyalty and love for his brother really touched me.

I didn't change anything about the story; I basically just wrote out all the main scenes Lakshmana played a part in a poem format. 

Bibliography: Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way.

Lakshmana: the great warrior

Source: Blogspot

I See Fire (Week 5: Storytelling)

You could hear hooves stomping across the desert trail, leaving a huge cloud of dust behind. The sight of fire made the horses neigh in fear but the messengers relentlessly continued. There was not a moment to lose.

Behind the misty mountains, the sun descended, leaving the sky an eerie red with a sense of foreboding. A grim quietness overshadowed the city of Ayodhya, not a soul in the streets, not even a mouse lingering in the open. There was no dancing, no singing, not even the buzzing of people in the street market. Just a sinister silence haunted the city all the way from the gates to inside the castle walls.

Without any notice, the quiet slowly faded away and a mesh of noises brought to life the scene within the chamber room, the blurred form of a man and woman arguing.

“He has to go… my two wishes…. promisedasgldgrlsgafs…”

What was going on?

And then the noise once again dulled as the scene shifted from the chamber room but soon enough sprang forth from a new direction outside the castle walls. Racing towards the entrance and forcing open the castle doors, a herd of elephants charged inside, thrashing against the walls and shattering their tusks.

That’s when the world seemed to crack; the moon had dropped from the sky, demolishing everything in a ripple effect. A high-pitched hum overwhelmed his ears.

Smoke rose from behind the mountains until the fire could be seen poking out from the rim. He could see it crawling down, growing ever near, till the crackling of the flames reached his hearing.

The waters of the ocean could not even consume this fire; the fire instead dried up the ocean, drinking in every last drop till the Earth was left dry and arid.

There, at the edge of this inferno, he saw standing the obscure image of Rama.

“Brother!” he called out.

He wanted to run, run away from the flames, away from the city, away from everything, but his feet were glued to the ground. Panic welled in his heart as he tried with all his might to move, the heat inching closer.

“Brother! Brother, save me!” he cried.

But Rama turned his head away and flung himself into the blaze.

“NOOOO!” he screamed in despair, tears streaming down his face and blurring his vision.

That is when a shadow emerged from the smoke. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked several times till the features of his father, the King, came to view. A sense of relief washed over him.

“Father! Father, Rama—“ he spoke, but the ash and smoke he breathed in cut him off.

“Yes… Rama…” he heard his father whisper. “Rama's bright soul has left our city... left me... and I no longer have a purpose to continue.”

“Father,” he coughed out, fighting for breath. “Father, what are you saying?”

Dasaratha’s legs gave out and his body hit the ground with a loud thud, leaving Bharata screaming awake to his brother Shatrughna shaking him. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, his hands trembling.

“What is wrong?” Bharata forced himself to ask.

Shatrughna squeezed Bharata’s hands, looking him directly in the eyes. “Messengers have come. From Ayodhya.”

--- --- --- --- ---

Eerie skies of Ayodhya

Source: BBC

Author's Note: This whole scene was drawn out from the passage in the book that spoke of Bharata's nightmare and how anxious he felt. There were only a few short lines that mentioned this moment, specifically saying how in his dreams he saw the shattering of the tusks of his father’s elephants, the moon dropping on the Earth, and the oceans drying up. I just wanted to incorporate those three things and mesh together both reality and his dream in attempt to bring this moment to life and make you feel what Bharata could have felt. He sort of had a feeling of what was happening when he woke up, so I assumed that his dream gave him a sense of what was to come.

 It is really hard to put detail into a scene out of Buck's Ramayana, especially because he himself puts so much detail into everything he writes. However, he didn't really expand too much on this particular moment so I used that as an opportunity to play with it. I didn’t really change anything in the story; everything happened exactly how it did prior to the dream and after the dream. I simply added much more detail to what was going on within the mind of Bharata while he slept.

Bibliography: Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way. 

Just a Dream (Week 2 Storytelling)

Sita giggled amongst her maids as they spoke of one of the servant boys who brought havoc amongst the girls simply with his looks.

“Oh, he is so very dreamy,” cried one.

“Even more so, his smile,” swooned a second.

“It should be a crime to be so beautiful,” sighed a third.

“If only he would make me his,” dreamed a fourth, lounging beside the princess.

Smiling, Sita gazed at the beautiful garden from the gazebo where they were all settled, shading themselves from the sun. Her eyes slid from the trees to each of the girls surrounding her, their cheerful expressions cheering her heart.

“Oh!” one of the maids gasped. “There he is! There he is!”

Sita elegantly craned her neck back to get a glimpse of what the maids were shyly observing and whispering about.

The servant boy they spoke of was strolling down the pathway along with two other unfamiliar figures.

Sita shifted her gaze to one of the men following behind the servant boy, her expression molding to one parallel to the girls' expressions. She let out a small gasp of her own when her eyes fell in line with his.

Beautiful, she thought.

And then he was gone.

She had lost herself so deeply in those eyes that she hadn’t even realized she was no longer looking at them.

“Oh, did you see him? Did you?” she frantically asked the girls.

“Yes,” they all chorused, their thoughts consumed by a whole different being.

“He smiled at me this time,” said the fourth maid jovially.

“You? That wasn’t at you! It was at me!” the third hissed.

Sita shook out of her dream and blinked at the sudden change of atmosphere. When did it become so rowdy?

“Girls! Girls!” she said, silencing them immediately. “What is the matter?”

She probably shouldn’t have asked because they began yelling at each other all over again. Between all this confusion, she heard ‘servant boy.’

“Servant boy?” she uttered out loud.

“Yes!” replied maid number one. “His smile was directed right to me!”

The other maids countered her with the same argument.

“Girls! Girls!” Sita said again, her voice rising over the others. “Did you not see the man who was beside him?”

The maids all paused in sync. “What man?”

“The one tall figure who was walking a little behind the servant boy you were all so fondly giggling about. You saw him, yes?”

She was desperate to know.

The girls shook their heads. They were so absorbed in the other boy that they had not noticed Rama as he was passing through the gardens.

Sita felt weak.

Was it just a dream? she thought, sighing. If it was, it was the most beautiful dream she had ever witnessed.

Unbeknownst to her, in only a few short hours, her dream would become a reality.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The main purpose of this story was to show from Sita's perspective, a snippet of what was happening when Sita and Rama met eyes for the very first time. I only showed it from Sita's point of view because we already know how Rama felt at that moment, though I had thought about expanding Rama's point of view too.

The moment when their eyes met was so very short-lived, and in my story I also made it brief just to show how quickly it happened. At the same time though, I wanted to express the connection that they had, at least on Sita's side. This scene was memorable to me especially now because we have finished Ramayana and know how *SPOILER ALERT* Sita gets swallowed into the ground after the whole separation between her and Rama and her attempt to come together again. It makes me sad to think that they went from such a cute beginning to that end.

Their weren't really any alterations from the original story. It was more just an idea I came up with, creating a kind of visual of that moment. 

Sita: Entranced in the Garden

Source: Google

Bibliography: 

• Narayan, R. K. (1972) The Ramayana.