This post is the index of my Portfolio. I hope you find something fun for you to read!
Story Guide
The Golden Shoes - This story is about the worker taking care of the sandals that Bharata was using as a stand-in for Rama on the throne.
Bharat, A Future Undecided - This story is about Shakuntala and Dushmanta's son Bharat (NOT the same as Rama's brother in The Ramayana). He is a small character from the epic Mahabharata. Is he ready to rule the kingdom without his parents? Find out!
Uttarai's Sacrifice - This is another story based on R.K. Narayan's Mahabharata, two children are pledged to each other: Arjuna's son and Virata's daughter. This short story epic follow Uttarai in her thoughts and actions up until the wedding.
A Goblin Gone Good - A follow-up to The Goblin and the Sneeze, this story follows a goblin, a son, and a father into the city. Find out what follows!
Mighty Princess Maya - This story follows a brave leader and warrior named Maya into the evil filled woods behind her land. Here, we find out if she is able to save her people from destruction hiding in the trees!
Thanks for stopping by!
Showing posts with label Portfolio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Portfolio. Show all posts
Friday, April 8, 2016
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Week 10 Storytelling: Mighty Princess Maya
One day, the mighty princess Maya stood on the tallest rock in the forest and admired her kingdom. Before she took over, the dense forest had been run by rakshasas and lowly folks such as robbers and thieves. Every time someone in her father's city tried to hunt in the woods they either ended up robbed or badly injured, or they never returned. This caused a great famine in the city, so princess Maya decided she was going to put an end to this madness.
During the first sign of spring that year, she and her company men and women started on the outside of the forest with torches and began burning any bush too thick to see through. By doing this, she planned to void the trees of all places that were previously used for hiding and treachery. Just a few weeks into their journey, rakshasas stormed their camp and abducted three men! Maya knew she had to save these men without losing any more, so she threw on her armor and readied her weapons. Her favorite weapon was the sword, but she was a master of them all. She was the top at javelin throwing in her kingdom, and her sword abilities could cut anything clean and through. Her boomerang would hit anything she aimed at and return. Maya's most favorite weapon was her bow. For this trip, she decided to leave the javelin at the camp so it didn't weigh her down.
She set out in darkness to find where the rakshasas stayed. Not long into her journey she heard cackling like that of a jackal. She crouched down and edged closer. Peering through a thicket, she saw three of her men tied to poles surrounding the massive bonfire the demons had erected. A few of the stronger looking rakshasas picked up the man closest to her and began parading him through the camp over their heads. Onlookers yelled and cheered while eating their fest, which consisted of the last men that were wandering through the forest. These side rakshasas threw sticks and bones from their supper at the man as he passed by on the large rakshasas shoulders.
Maya had had enough. She burst through the bush and ran at the demon closest to her. With her mighty fists she punched two at the same time, knocking them out. Pulling out her bow, she began shooting arrows at every breathing creature but her men. The rakshasas advanced, less shocked now, and drew their swords. This was no match for Maya. Five, ten, fifteen at a time they came in raids and in one swipe of her sword she took them all out. Finally only a few were left. They were hiding behind the tent, so she pulled out her boomerang and took all of their heads off with one swift throw.
Finally, she had killed all of the demons, and she rushed to untie the three men from her company. They were so grateful that they each pledged their life, stating that they would follow her wherever she went and do what she needed done. They finished cleaning up the forest, and even started preparing some farming land for the farmers hiding behind the walls of the city.
Until Maya's last breath, the city was safe from any outside peril.
Author's Note. This story idea comes from the story The Felon Demon in Indian Fables and Folklore. It is about a demon with a shovel gifted from a god that has allowed him to be an all-powerful demon. No one could defeat him, not even an entire army. One day, he kidnapped the king's daughter (the princess). The king said that whoever saved her would be permitted to marry her. One prince was willing, and he fought the demon for three days straight. In the end, the prince won the battle and also won the princess.
I feel like this stories (and many I read like it) are so old times where the poor princess was a damsel in distress that couldn't lift a pinky for herself. This is why I decided to write a story of my own where the woman saved the man.
The picture I selected was done so very carefully. Joan of Arc was a famous warrior in France in the 15th century, and I likened my character, Maya, to her. The picture (painting) is of Joan in her battle gear, very similar to what I pictured Maya wearing. They both were also loyal to their country, and they only wanted the best, gender norms aside.
Bibliography. This story, The Felon Demon, comes from a compilation of short stories, Indian Fables and Folklore, by Shovona Devi in the year 1919.
During the first sign of spring that year, she and her company men and women started on the outside of the forest with torches and began burning any bush too thick to see through. By doing this, she planned to void the trees of all places that were previously used for hiding and treachery. Just a few weeks into their journey, rakshasas stormed their camp and abducted three men! Maya knew she had to save these men without losing any more, so she threw on her armor and readied her weapons. Her favorite weapon was the sword, but she was a master of them all. She was the top at javelin throwing in her kingdom, and her sword abilities could cut anything clean and through. Her boomerang would hit anything she aimed at and return. Maya's most favorite weapon was her bow. For this trip, she decided to leave the javelin at the camp so it didn't weigh her down.
The great Joan of Arc, another mighty warrior like Maya (Wiki)
She set out in darkness to find where the rakshasas stayed. Not long into her journey she heard cackling like that of a jackal. She crouched down and edged closer. Peering through a thicket, she saw three of her men tied to poles surrounding the massive bonfire the demons had erected. A few of the stronger looking rakshasas picked up the man closest to her and began parading him through the camp over their heads. Onlookers yelled and cheered while eating their fest, which consisted of the last men that were wandering through the forest. These side rakshasas threw sticks and bones from their supper at the man as he passed by on the large rakshasas shoulders.
Maya had had enough. She burst through the bush and ran at the demon closest to her. With her mighty fists she punched two at the same time, knocking them out. Pulling out her bow, she began shooting arrows at every breathing creature but her men. The rakshasas advanced, less shocked now, and drew their swords. This was no match for Maya. Five, ten, fifteen at a time they came in raids and in one swipe of her sword she took them all out. Finally only a few were left. They were hiding behind the tent, so she pulled out her boomerang and took all of their heads off with one swift throw.
Finally, she had killed all of the demons, and she rushed to untie the three men from her company. They were so grateful that they each pledged their life, stating that they would follow her wherever she went and do what she needed done. They finished cleaning up the forest, and even started preparing some farming land for the farmers hiding behind the walls of the city.
Until Maya's last breath, the city was safe from any outside peril.
Author's Note. This story idea comes from the story The Felon Demon in Indian Fables and Folklore. It is about a demon with a shovel gifted from a god that has allowed him to be an all-powerful demon. No one could defeat him, not even an entire army. One day, he kidnapped the king's daughter (the princess). The king said that whoever saved her would be permitted to marry her. One prince was willing, and he fought the demon for three days straight. In the end, the prince won the battle and also won the princess.
I feel like this stories (and many I read like it) are so old times where the poor princess was a damsel in distress that couldn't lift a pinky for herself. This is why I decided to write a story of my own where the woman saved the man.
The picture I selected was done so very carefully. Joan of Arc was a famous warrior in France in the 15th century, and I likened my character, Maya, to her. The picture (painting) is of Joan in her battle gear, very similar to what I pictured Maya wearing. They both were also loyal to their country, and they only wanted the best, gender norms aside.
Bibliography. This story, The Felon Demon, comes from a compilation of short stories, Indian Fables and Folklore, by Shovona Devi in the year 1919.
Monday, March 21, 2016
Week 9 Storytelling: A Goblin Gone Good
Author's Note. The story was inspired by the happenings of the short story The Goblin and the Sneeze. A goblin lives in an old house and eats anyone who sneezes. The only way to stop the goblin is for someone to say "God bless you" and then the sneezer has to say "The same to you!" One day a father and son realized they must stay in the abandoned house because they had to wait until dawn to enter the city. The goblin stirs up dust to force one to sneeze and the father began sneezing sporadically. As the goblin goes in to kill the father, the son sees the goblin and yells "God bless you!" and the father returns with "the same to you!" The goblin is hungry so he comes out angry. The son does not react with hatred or mistreatment, but instead is kind to the goblin. He suggests he come with the father and son and be a decent person.
Now comes the next story! It is the continuation of the father, son, and goblin and where they go from here.
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The son grabbed the goblin's hand. Gobby looked up at his new friend, a tear in his eye. The three got up to the gate and the security guard stopped them quickly.
"He can't come in here!" the security guard yelled with a finger pointed towards the city. His eyes were red and fuming, for he had heard the stories of the goblin.
"It is okay, my friend! He is a changed goblin; he no longer wants to hurt people!" the son pleaded with the guard. Gobby smiled as big as he could with his crooked and yellow stained teeth showing fully. The guard grimaced and then looked away.
"He is your complete responsibility." The guard pointed at the son and father. "If he so much as kills a kitten it is completely on you." This was unnerving to the father, but the son agreed promptly and did not hesitate to take blame for any troubles his new friend could cause.
The guard opened the gate slowly and motioned for the three to enter into the city.
Gobby did exactly as he said he would. He held hands with both the son and father, and they walked merrily along the paved main road. They came across little shops, food carts, and salesman throughout the streets. They hadn't realized it, but suddenly the streets were very full of other customers. The father purchased three giant, juicy apples and they each ate one on a quiet curb.
"He is your complete responsibility." The guard pointed at the son and father. "If he so much as kills a kitten it is completely on you." This was unnerving to the father, but the son agreed promptly and did not hesitate to take blame for any troubles his new friend could cause.
The guard opened the gate slowly and motioned for the three to enter into the city.
Gobby did exactly as he said he would. He held hands with both the son and father, and they walked merrily along the paved main road. They came across little shops, food carts, and salesman throughout the streets. They hadn't realized it, but suddenly the streets were very full of other customers. The father purchased three giant, juicy apples and they each ate one on a quiet curb.
The father, the goblin, and the son from The Goblin and the Sneeze
Suddenly, Gobby heard something he thought he had put behind him.
"Aaachoooooo!" sneezed the donkey tied to the eggs and chickens cart. Gobby's eyes started burning, and his fingers curled. He took a few more bites of the apple trying not to draw attention to himself.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Gobby announced as he stood up. He had eaten the entire apple, even the core. "I will just run to that alley right over there and be right back." He pointed to a small opening between carts about a hundred feet away. Before he could hear an answer, he hurriedly rushed toward the alley... and the donkey.
With a quick flick of his sharp claw he cut the rope tying the donkey to the cart. He discreetly pulled the rope behind his back towards the empty alley. In a matter of seconds he was standing on the donkey's back, ready to take the first glorious bite of flesh he had tasted in months. He dug his claws in and as his face got closer he felt a sudden pain in his neck. He could no longer move. Wait, no, he was spinning. It was dark. Gobby blinked. He was on the ground, sideways. So dark...
"Well, you didn't have to go to quite that length," the son yelled as he turned the corner just in time to see his father standing over the lifeless Gobby. "Maybe stopping him with your hands could have helped him learn better than cutting off his head!"
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The stories in "The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India" are painfully sad. The majority of the characters end up dying a gruesome death because of their foolishness. I really enjoy happily ever afters, so this was a branch out for me. This story was one of the few with a happy ending so I decided to rewrite it to match the rest.
The picture I chose came from the book listed above. I wrote the part of the story where they enter the city to look like the picture depicted.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Week 6 Storytelling: Uttarai's Sacrifice
An Indian Wedding (Wiki)
Author’s Note. The origin of this story idea came from R.K. Narayan’s The Mahabharata. When Virata finds out that the men who have been working for him are the five Pandavas, he suddenly promises his daughter, Uttarai, to Arjuna’s son, Abhumanyu. After the nuptials, nothing more is spoken of her until the end of the epic where her son becomes the sole heir to the Pandavas. I decided to embellish on her life (and make her a little modern). I got the idea while reading The Mahabharata and noting to myself that I didn't think it fair that the king just promised her off in a moment's notice.
In my storytelling, Uttarai does not want to marry Abhimanyu, for she loves another man. She is stubborn but wise (as you will see), and ultimately believes her father only wants the best for her. Will she get what she wants? Or will she obey?
The picture I have selected is of a modern Indian wedding. I could not find much information on ancient wedding ceremonies, so I was a little confused on what to write when I got to the actual wedding part. Hopefully I have done this amazing culture its due justice.
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A Wedding
“I just don’t think this is fair!” Uttarai stomped over to the dressing stage. Uttarai’s maid, Jen, walked over to grab the royal dress of the day.
”Uttarai, you knew this day would come. Why are you surprised? You know it is the tradition of our land to have the suitor of a woman chosen by her father.” Jen walked around Uttarai wrapping the sari around her.
After all of her morning preparations, Uttarai began walking through the garden alone to collect her thoughts. It was unfair that she had no say in who she was to marry. She didn’t even know this man and he was supposed to be her husband next week!
She heard a man’s voice and hid behind the massive bush of pink roses. Peering through a small hole, she saw the massive man talking with one of her father’s advisors. He was handsome. An innocent smile shone on her face, and then she remembered he couldn’t even see her. He leaned over and picked up Uttarai’s small dog. He pet him gently and spoke with silliness as one does with a child. Why couldn’t she be with him? He was perfect, and she wanted him.
“This is just unfair!” Uttarai stomped back to her dressing room. She wept on Jen’s lap until no more tears would come. She regained her composure and decided to go speak with her father.
Her father was sitting merrily on his grand chair in the dining hall for breaking fast.
“My dearest daughter, what is troubling you?” King Virata took another bite of his eggs.
“Oh Father! I believe you to be a just man. Please, Father, please do not make me marry Abhimanyu!” She fell at his feet and began crying once more.
”My love, my life,” Virata caressed her hair gently, “Abhimanyu is the grandson of a God. He is mighty at war, but kind in heart. He is respectful and knows no separation of persons. These are all the traits I ever wanted in the man I gave your hand. Please, sweet Uttarai, obey my command. It is not a punishment, but a reward!”
“Father, I will obey you, but I do not wish to meet him until the day we wed. I fear I will scare him off with my endless stream of tears.” Uttarai lifted her head. She now knew there was no other way; she had to marry a man she didn’t even know.
Three days later, the wedding party met in the marble hall. As promised, Uttarai did not attend, and Virata did not call for her.
Saturday came and it was time. Jen was the one weeping this time as she got Uttarai dressed. Today, they began much earlier than normal. Uttarai had accepted her fate. Jen was a mess, and she hugging Uttarai randomly and bowing every time she leaned back to take in her masterpiece.
Uttarai walked down the grand staircase. Oh no! There was the perfect man from the garden!
“Great,” she thought, “not only do I have to marry a man I don’t want to, but now I have to do so in front of the man I truly wanted!” Her seeming smile changed to a frown. Suddenly the man walked up to her and put his arm out.
“Hello, Princess Uttarai.” He bent down and kissed her hand. “I am Abhimanyu, and you are perfect.”
Bibliography: R.K. Narayan’s The Mahabharata written in 1978.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Week 4 Storytelling: Bharat, A Future Undecided
“My sweetest husband, I believe it is time to retire to the forest,” Shakuntala said gently to Dushmanta, her husband of twenty years.
“Though I enjoy the life of the palace, a hermitage is my home, and my aging body yearns for it,” she continued.
“For you, my dearest wife, I would do anything. But how should we know if our offspring is ready for the heavy duties of a king? How will we know if it is still too much for him? What if he is an unjust King, how will I live?” Dushmanta emotionally asked.
“We will test him.” Shakuntala stated, as if a light had come on, for she glowed with the essence of her idea.
“I’ve got it!” he yelled. “We will see if it is his heart of gold he will lead with, or if he has selfish intentions. We will send him to Jabro, the poorest area of our city, and put him with a harsh servant who does not do all he asks, as he is used to. She will be our eyes; only then will we see the true heart our son possesses.”
“Very well, my greatest, see it through,” Shakuntala stated, after pondering idea. It seemed harsh, but in the end, it truly would test his temper, as well as his compassion for others.
So Dushmanta went to his favorite nurse, Jana, and asked if she knew anyone that would be fit to fulfill this deed. As it would be, she did: a fellow nurse by the name of Seila. She was an older woman, but not frail. She was strong and level-headed. Dushmanta and Shakuntala met with Seila and explained all they needed from her. She feared them initially (because of their royal status), but she realized by the end that all they wanted was to know that their son was truly ready to rule a kingdom.
The following week Bharat showed up to the home he would be staying at while conducting royal duties his father set for him. When he got out of the chariot he stood curiously at the door, and read the name of the inn repeatedly. It was nothing more than a shack, and he wondered if someone even lived there. Nevertheless, he decided to go in.
“Hello? Is anyone here? I was told I am to be expected. My name is Bharat,” he stated as he walked through the door. His eyes widened. The decor did not improve from outside to in; it actually got worse!
“I am Seila. And look here! You didn’t even wipe your shoes off!” a woman smarled as she turned the corner. “Go through that door there and set your stuff down, and then please come help me wash up for dinner.” She pointed to a sheet on the wall over a hole that Bharat could only assume was the door spoken of.
“Madam…” Bharat began, but he soon decided it was not worth the words. He did not believe she meant to be harsh, but rather, firm. He was about to remind her who he was, but he wanted to see how the night went. He set his belongings on the cot and returned to the main room.
Seila put a pot of chicken on the kindled fire. “Please finish the washing of these dishes and when you’re done let’s head to the river for the some cool drinks.”
Bharat considered what his father and mother would do in this situation. Despite the small fire brewing inside him, he realized that she had lived a life much harder than his, and she deserved to be a little bitter. Maybe he could help her out.
Finally, he walked over to the grand pot with dirty dishes in it and began cleaning them.
Author's Note. This story is a small piece of a larger story, with the main piece coming from Nine Ideal Indian Women: Sita, Promila, and Shakuntala. This idea came from the third story, Shakuntala. I was so entranced during this story that I'm not sure if I blinked the whole way through! I enjoyed the plot and story line too much, so I decided not to make any changes to those. Instead, I decided to add a little fill where there was nothing more than a paragraph (the one at the end where Bharat suddenly grows up, becomes king, and has a great reign).
The ring in this story was not selected by chance; in the story of Shakuntala and Dushmanta, Dushmanata married Shakuntala in the forest and gives her a ring so his men could come back and get her. He became cursed to forget the one he loved until a token of his love (the ring!) was shown to him. Shakuntala lost it, and Dushmanta did not recognize her when she went to find him while very pregnant with their son, Bharat. A few years later, some fisherman find the ring and it is returned to Dushmanta. Once he sees the ring, he realizes what he had done and he finds Shakuntala and Bharat. Later in life, Dushmanta gave this ring to Bharat. This is why this ring is so important!
Bibliography. This story's characters come from Nine Ideal Indian Women: Sita, Promila, and Shakuntala by Sunity Devee in 1919.
“Though I enjoy the life of the palace, a hermitage is my home, and my aging body yearns for it,” she continued.
“For you, my dearest wife, I would do anything. But how should we know if our offspring is ready for the heavy duties of a king? How will we know if it is still too much for him? What if he is an unjust King, how will I live?” Dushmanta emotionally asked.
“We will test him.” Shakuntala stated, as if a light had come on, for she glowed with the essence of her idea.
“I’ve got it!” he yelled. “We will see if it is his heart of gold he will lead with, or if he has selfish intentions. We will send him to Jabro, the poorest area of our city, and put him with a harsh servant who does not do all he asks, as he is used to. She will be our eyes; only then will we see the true heart our son possesses.”
“Very well, my greatest, see it through,” Shakuntala stated, after pondering idea. It seemed harsh, but in the end, it truly would test his temper, as well as his compassion for others.
So Dushmanta went to his favorite nurse, Jana, and asked if she knew anyone that would be fit to fulfill this deed. As it would be, she did: a fellow nurse by the name of Seila. She was an older woman, but not frail. She was strong and level-headed. Dushmanta and Shakuntala met with Seila and explained all they needed from her. She feared them initially (because of their royal status), but she realized by the end that all they wanted was to know that their son was truly ready to rule a kingdom.
The following week Bharat showed up to the home he would be staying at while conducting royal duties his father set for him. When he got out of the chariot he stood curiously at the door, and read the name of the inn repeatedly. It was nothing more than a shack, and he wondered if someone even lived there. Nevertheless, he decided to go in.
“Hello? Is anyone here? I was told I am to be expected. My name is Bharat,” he stated as he walked through the door. His eyes widened. The decor did not improve from outside to in; it actually got worse!
“I am Seila. And look here! You didn’t even wipe your shoes off!” a woman smarled as she turned the corner. “Go through that door there and set your stuff down, and then please come help me wash up for dinner.” She pointed to a sheet on the wall over a hole that Bharat could only assume was the door spoken of.
“Madam…” Bharat began, but he soon decided it was not worth the words. He did not believe she meant to be harsh, but rather, firm. He was about to remind her who he was, but he wanted to see how the night went. He set his belongings on the cot and returned to the main room.
Seila put a pot of chicken on the kindled fire. “Please finish the washing of these dishes and when you’re done let’s head to the river for the some cool drinks.”
Bharat considered what his father and mother would do in this situation. Despite the small fire brewing inside him, he realized that she had lived a life much harder than his, and she deserved to be a little bitter. Maybe he could help her out.
Finally, he walked over to the grand pot with dirty dishes in it and began cleaning them.
"I must find a way to help this woman," he thought to himself. "What can I do to show her that we, the royal family, still care for her?"
Bharat and Seila cleaned and cooked in silence, until Bharat broke had an idea.
“Dearest Seila, it is clear you have lived a hard and tiresome life, but you have stayed devoted to your King through it all. For that, I want to give you my favorite ring.” He removed the diamond-encrusted gold band from his finger, and placed it in her palm.
She stood wide-eyed, in shock. She did not expect this at all.
From the moment Dushmanta and Shakuntala found out their son’s great reverence, they knew his purity of heart was true. Dushmanta made Bharat the King, and his reign was peaceful. He was such a great king that the country of India still bears his name today.
Bharat and Seila cleaned and cooked in silence, until Bharat broke had an idea.
“Dearest Seila, it is clear you have lived a hard and tiresome life, but you have stayed devoted to your King through it all. For that, I want to give you my favorite ring.” He removed the diamond-encrusted gold band from his finger, and placed it in her palm.
She stood wide-eyed, in shock. She did not expect this at all.
From the moment Dushmanta and Shakuntala found out their son’s great reverence, they knew his purity of heart was true. Dushmanta made Bharat the King, and his reign was peaceful. He was such a great king that the country of India still bears his name today.
Indian King (Wikipedia)
Author's Note. This story is a small piece of a larger story, with the main piece coming from Nine Ideal Indian Women: Sita, Promila, and Shakuntala. This idea came from the third story, Shakuntala. I was so entranced during this story that I'm not sure if I blinked the whole way through! I enjoyed the plot and story line too much, so I decided not to make any changes to those. Instead, I decided to add a little fill where there was nothing more than a paragraph (the one at the end where Bharat suddenly grows up, becomes king, and has a great reign).
The ring in this story was not selected by chance; in the story of Shakuntala and Dushmanta, Dushmanata married Shakuntala in the forest and gives her a ring so his men could come back and get her. He became cursed to forget the one he loved until a token of his love (the ring!) was shown to him. Shakuntala lost it, and Dushmanta did not recognize her when she went to find him while very pregnant with their son, Bharat. A few years later, some fisherman find the ring and it is returned to Dushmanta. Once he sees the ring, he realizes what he had done and he finds Shakuntala and Bharat. Later in life, Dushmanta gave this ring to Bharat. This is why this ring is so important!
The picture I selected was done so very carefully. I did many searches for both Bharat and Shakuntala, where I almost always attained the same few pictures that I had already seen (though they didn't fit the idea I had in my head). I finally got the idea to look up Indian Kings, and I went through a few before I found a picture of one I thought looked noble enough to look similar to the gentle King Bharat. If you want to read more about King Shivaji (pictured), see here.
Bibliography. This story's characters come from Nine Ideal Indian Women: Sita, Promila, and Shakuntala by Sunity Devee in 1919.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Week 2 Storytelling: The Golden Shoes
“Today, I think they need a good wax,” the chief caretaker told Sami.
“Yes, sir,” he responded, hiding the annoyance in his voice.
"They’re just shoes!!!" he yelled in his head, "They cannot rule a nation, a territory, a kingdom, and they sure can’t rule me!"
Like previous times he was angry about the golden shoes, he knew it would pass when the paycheck came. He knew he had a much easier job than most. Many considered him lucky, for he toiled indoors in a temperate palace with few tasks to even callous his hands. Ayodhya was, after all, one of the top five places to live in “Ramayana, Real Estate.”
He thought of his wife, Jasmine, and frowned. How could he ever complain when she was in the mill by the river. She always came home covered head to toe in flour, and she smelled of manure. It was so hard on her muscles and joints. He decided he needed to stop whining about his job.
He grabbed a new cloth, as he always did. The shoes were too precious for a used one, and he would be punished if they saw him using one. He had never met this Rama, but Sami wasn’t sure if he believed all the God-like characteristics he possessed.
He never lied? He walked away when told to go into exile? He broke a God’s bow?! Doubt it. That Sita sure was beautiful though, so he must have done something right.
Sami rubbed the shoes feverishly, but careful not to harm them. After all, they still had thirteen years on the throne, and he wanted to be there for all of it.
“I wish this job were easier,” he muttered quietly under his breath. Suddenly, his arm felt stronger. It was as if something magical had happened while he cleaned; doing the exact same thing became easier when he said so!
"It must be coincidence…" he thought to himself. "There is no way these shoes are magic, is there?" He pushed the sleeves up on his shirt and began flexing, looking at his reflection in the perfectly polished golden throne behind the shoes.
"WOW," he thought, "I could get used to this!"
"I wish I would never die!" he whispered loudly while rubbing the shoes, and then turned his back quickly to make sure no one was behind him. Coast was clear. He quickly checked the front and back of hands wide-eyed, then realized he probably wouldn't notice anything from that wish for quite some time.
"Hmmmmm," he thought, "I should have thought that through a little better." He decided to try again, but this time he would wish for something that could happen instantly.
“I wish I had more money,” he whispered next. At first, it seemed nothing happened. Then, suddenly, his brother came walking in, with an armed guard following. He had sorrow on his face, and tears in his eyes.
”Your wife…Jasmine... Sami… She…. I… They couldn’t stop it…” Sami’s brother choked out between sobs.
“Brother! Tell me!” Sami screamed.
“She was pulled into the mill, Sami, they couldn't stop it, she is gone,” he said somberly, head down.
The guard walked up in tune with the situation, as if he were going to fix it all.
“Here is wages she would have made for five years. It is the least we can do,” the guard stated.
Sami couldn’t breathe. What must he have done to deserve such a punishing karma?
From that day on, Sami swore to never wish upon the sandals again.
He lived until the end of time, unable to die, or be killed, which was a curse he would never wish on anyone.
Author's Note. This story is a tangent to Section 24 in the PDE Ramayana where Bharata put sandals on Rama’s feet, and then sent them back to Ayodhya to become the place-holder for Rama when he returns to be king. In this story, a worker in Ayodhya has to tend to the gold shoes.
The worker is not ever mentioned in any of the Ramayana, but I got the idea when Bharata said they would sit on the throne waiting for Rama. I immediately pictured them losing their shine and perfection, so it only made sense to put someone over them to tend to them. The story has no definitive place in the main story, so it gave me a lot of leeway when deciding my characters, their story, and the plot. This is the main reason I went with this one.
The image I have selected for "The Golden Shoes" is Bharata when he is putting the golden shoes on Rama before he takes them back to Ayodya. It gives the perfect symbolism of Bharata putting himself beneath Rama by saving the throne for him, because in the picture he is kneeling at Rama's feet looking up, while Rama is looking down at him.
Bibliography. This is based on Section 24 of the PDE Ramayana.
“Yes, sir,” he responded, hiding the annoyance in his voice.
"They’re just shoes!!!" he yelled in his head, "They cannot rule a nation, a territory, a kingdom, and they sure can’t rule me!"
Like previous times he was angry about the golden shoes, he knew it would pass when the paycheck came. He knew he had a much easier job than most. Many considered him lucky, for he toiled indoors in a temperate palace with few tasks to even callous his hands. Ayodhya was, after all, one of the top five places to live in “Ramayana, Real Estate.”
He thought of his wife, Jasmine, and frowned. How could he ever complain when she was in the mill by the river. She always came home covered head to toe in flour, and she smelled of manure. It was so hard on her muscles and joints. He decided he needed to stop whining about his job.
He grabbed a new cloth, as he always did. The shoes were too precious for a used one, and he would be punished if they saw him using one. He had never met this Rama, but Sami wasn’t sure if he believed all the God-like characteristics he possessed.
He never lied? He walked away when told to go into exile? He broke a God’s bow?! Doubt it. That Sita sure was beautiful though, so he must have done something right.
Sami rubbed the shoes feverishly, but careful not to harm them. After all, they still had thirteen years on the throne, and he wanted to be there for all of it.
“I wish this job were easier,” he muttered quietly under his breath. Suddenly, his arm felt stronger. It was as if something magical had happened while he cleaned; doing the exact same thing became easier when he said so!
"It must be coincidence…" he thought to himself. "There is no way these shoes are magic, is there?" He pushed the sleeves up on his shirt and began flexing, looking at his reflection in the perfectly polished golden throne behind the shoes.
"WOW," he thought, "I could get used to this!"
"I wish I would never die!" he whispered loudly while rubbing the shoes, and then turned his back quickly to make sure no one was behind him. Coast was clear. He quickly checked the front and back of hands wide-eyed, then realized he probably wouldn't notice anything from that wish for quite some time.
"Hmmmmm," he thought, "I should have thought that through a little better." He decided to try again, but this time he would wish for something that could happen instantly.
“I wish I had more money,” he whispered next. At first, it seemed nothing happened. Then, suddenly, his brother came walking in, with an armed guard following. He had sorrow on his face, and tears in his eyes.
”Your wife…Jasmine... Sami… She…. I… They couldn’t stop it…” Sami’s brother choked out between sobs.
“Brother! Tell me!” Sami screamed.
“She was pulled into the mill, Sami, they couldn't stop it, she is gone,” he said somberly, head down.
The guard walked up in tune with the situation, as if he were going to fix it all.
“Here is wages she would have made for five years. It is the least we can do,” the guard stated.
Sami couldn’t breathe. What must he have done to deserve such a punishing karma?
From that day on, Sami swore to never wish upon the sandals again.
He lived until the end of time, unable to die, or be killed, which was a curse he would never wish on anyone.
Author's Note. This story is a tangent to Section 24 in the PDE Ramayana where Bharata put sandals on Rama’s feet, and then sent them back to Ayodhya to become the place-holder for Rama when he returns to be king. In this story, a worker in Ayodhya has to tend to the gold shoes.
The worker is not ever mentioned in any of the Ramayana, but I got the idea when Bharata said they would sit on the throne waiting for Rama. I immediately pictured them losing their shine and perfection, so it only made sense to put someone over them to tend to them. The story has no definitive place in the main story, so it gave me a lot of leeway when deciding my characters, their story, and the plot. This is the main reason I went with this one.
The image I have selected for "The Golden Shoes" is Bharata when he is putting the golden shoes on Rama before he takes them back to Ayodya. It gives the perfect symbolism of Bharata putting himself beneath Rama by saving the throne for him, because in the picture he is kneeling at Rama's feet looking up, while Rama is looking down at him.
Bibliography. This is based on Section 24 of the PDE Ramayana.
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