The capital of Kalinga, Tosali city, was immersed in celebration. Although the city had not seen the kind of grand celebrations that used to take place in the past for many years, the citizens of the dilapidated city, filled with a broken yet persistent enthusiasm, gathered for this festival.They were intoxicated, not with liquor but with the memories of their ancient golden history. Recalling the old tales repeatedly, their pride swelled. They would often wonder when they would walk in the footsteps of their glorious ancestors.
The festival included games, horse riding, archery, and other competitions. The people of Kalinga would momentarily forget their impoverished state. True honor comes with victory. In defeat, what one receives is mere consolation, not respect.
The people of Kalinga longed for a victorious empire and a triumphant king. But, unfortunately, there was no worthy ruler currently on Kalinga’s throne. Just then…
"And now, the great actor and emperor of performance, Charan Manavak who resides in the hearts of the people of Kaling, is gracing the stage." As soon as 'Manavaka' was announced, excitement, curiosity, and anticipation spread through the gathering. Those who were previously engaged in idle talk or half-listening to the ongoing competitions now hurried toward the stage.
This was the most awaited day of the Spring Festival, the last night of the Kaumudi Festival... The whole night, people stayed awake. This was the climax of the fifteen-day-long celebration. Like every time, people came with various goals. The merchants sought fellow traders to establish connections and expand their businesses. The youth searched for their peers to enjoy the fair, and would roam around, eat, drink, and enjoy themselves. Thieves scouted for their next prey, while guards kept a sharp eye on the thieves. Many parents looked for suitable matches for their grown-up sons and daughters...
This Kaumudi festival was filled with noise and excitement. As usual, when 'Manavaka's' name was called, everyone abandoned their 'important' tasks and gathered at the stage.
"Manavak was arriving, he was the royal poet. Whatever he spoke in the mother tongue of Kalinga, Prakrit, would turn into poetry. The people of Kalinga listened to his every word with undivided attention, and every sentence was met with exclamations of 'Bravo! Bravo!'
Everything was going to proceed as usual. There was no novelty in it, no difference from previous occasions. But still, a newness was about to arrive. This Kaumudi Festival was going to be celebrated in a slightly different way. And the one to bring this novelty was a Brahmin who had forcefully come to the Kaumudi Festival with his beloved.
'If you don't come, I will stop talking to you,' Kinkini was saying, while Kamrup—whom everyone called 'Kamru'—had grabbed Kinkini's chin and lifted her face towards his. 'That's simply not possible, and you know it,' he said.
'Shoo!' Kinkini, fuming with anger, shook off his hand and stepped back like a hissing snake. Then, with her large eyes growing even larger, she put one hand on her hip, pointed her index finger at his face, twisted her expression sharply, and puffing out her chest like the capital of the God of love, said, 'If this time you don't listen to me, this will happen. I will never, ever speak to you again,never,and absolutely never again.
Kamru, completely unbothered by her charming gesture, stood tall, hands on his hips, and responded casually - nothing new, just the same old thing—”it’s never going to happen.”
In response, Kinkini put both her hands on her hips and taunted, 'Is that all you know how to say? You keep repeating the same thing: "It's not possible, it's not possible." What’s not possible?
'It’s not possible for Kamru to disobey Kinkini’s command,' Kamru said with a lazy sense of politeness.
And with that, Kinkini’s anger evaporated like steam. A smile lit up her face like a flash of lightning, and she jumped up with excitement, 'Does that mean you’ll come to the festival?'
For a moment, Kamru laughed, then bowed his head and said, 'Since it is your wish... yes.' Overwhelmed with joy, Kinkini threw herself into Kamru’s chest with a rush of enthusiasm.
'Why don't you ever say things straightforwardly? Do you enjoy making me suffer?'
'It's not like that, dear,' Kamru said, stroking Kinkini's head. 'If I agreed right away, how would I experience this joy I’m feeling right now?'
'Shameless!' Kinkini retorted as she pulled away from him and turned her back to walk away. Behind her, Kamru’s laughter echoed—carefree, victorious, and full of amusement. That laughter made Kinkini's heart swell with joy as well. Such is the nature of love: the one who loses still celebrates the other’s victory.
Kinkini and Kamru were heading to the festival. Kamru was lost in deep thought. Kinkini, true to her name, had been chattering endlessly for who knows how long. But Kamru only half-heard her; the other half was lost on him. He was preoccupied with one thought: if he listened to the history of Kalinga, his heart would no longer be in his control, and then all hell would break loose. Worse, it would tarnish the name of his teacher, Acharya Tossaliputra. He didn’t want his teacher’s secrets to be exposed, which is why he had been avoiding the festival. But...
'Even Lord Ram succumbed to the insistence of his beloved, so what chance does Kamru stand?' Kamru had made up his mind, and when they entered the festival pavilion, Manavak, with his powerful voice and extraordinary acting, was narrating the history of Kalinga.
'The thing you try to avoid always ends up right in front of you. There's no escape now...' Kamru muttered to himself. Kinkini asked, 'What did you say?' Kamru replied, 'Nothing."
(To be Contiuned...)
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