#hanuman or krishna | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gopikayam · 2 months ago

Note

Hello 🤗❤️

I was just imagining Mahabharat and Ramayan characters in the modern era and was curious on how you would see them.

Hey, sweetie! Thank for request. Sorry for keeping you too long and I hope you like it. Here are both Mahabharata and Ramayana❤️🪷

(Btw, happy Pride month. Idk, I am not homophobic, I've noticed everyone celebrate it today in SM, so I decided do same. I am bi)

Modern AU! Mahabharata and Ramayana characters.

──────⊹⊱Mahabharata⊰⊹──────

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Krishna

The modern Krishna is a brilliant strategic consultant and diplomat in demand at the UN, government institutions and even in the shadow world. He is both a professor of philosophy at a prestigious university (he prefers lectures on the Gita in Modern Life) and the man called to the most important peace talks. He in the modern world is a man who can unite the masses not by force but by word. He is not a president, he is a counselor who does not want power but has influence equal to that of a king. His sharp wit is a weapon, his smile is a shield, and his voice can bring even the most stubborn enemies to the negotiating table. And all this in a perfect black Armani suit, with a cornflower-blue scarf that he wears as a tribute to his ancient appearance.

Doesn't raise his voice. His words penetrate like a mantra. He speaks slowly, with gentle mockery, sometimes adding jokes that only the most attentive can understand. He can make you laugh until you cry and in a minute talk about the meaning of life - all with a cup of coffee in hand, in an art café to jazz. He'll charm your mom, make your girlfriend jealous, and make you wonder why you ever fell in love with anyone else in the first place.

He loves music. He plays piano, flute and sometimes sings live in jazz clubs under the pseudonym "Murali". Loves Indian classical music, but is no stranger to lo-fi. He often paints mandalas with watercolors, meditates by the window at sunrise, listening to the wind. And although he lives in a metropolis, his apartment always smells of sandalwood and jasmine. He studies quantum physics, but still believes that the soul is eternal. He would listen to Lata Mangeshkar, Arijit Singh, and of course the melody of flute and mantra... For meditation

You are not just his beloved. You are his Radha, his soul, his universe in one body. He sees your pain even in your silence. He whispers to you that you are worthy of love even if you doubt it. He tells you that time, distance and mistakes are nothing if you both still feel each other through everything. He sends you memes by day, poems by night, and sleepy voicemails in the morning. And in every touch, it's like heaven touches earth. He's still a prankster. There are sparks of play in his eyes. He can set you up to "accidentally" end up on a rooftop under the stars with candles already burning. He has a knack for causing accidents that change lives. Even when you scold him, he just smiles (Rascal!)

Krishna is always mysterious and beautiful. Dark curls, eyes the color of stormy skies, slight unshavenness. He dresses in the "intellectual with a bohemian soul" style - linen shirts, thin bracelets on his wrists, a tulasi necklace and a sapphire ring. His presence is felt before you see him - in the form of the smell of patchouli, a slight breeze and a strange calmness in your heart.

Krishna is the one who appears exactly when each one of Pandavas needs him. It doesn't matter who or where they are - Yudhishthira in court, Arjuna in the gym, Bhima in a café, Nakula at a volunteer exhibition, and Sahadeva in the library - if one of them writes in the chat room, "Brother, I need to talk to you," Krishna is already on his way to them, without further ado. And he comes not as a god, but as a brother. Hugs, jokes, says, "You still think it is your fault? Even I don't analyze so much..." They meet once a week at a small tea cafe by the temple, their unchanging place. Everything there smells of jasmine, smoke and memories. In chatting group, he is most active. Often sends emojies, memes or solve conflicts. Often likes gossip with Draupadi or with you about others, including Kauravas.

He blows up social networks, but always slips away. His Instagram is the aesthetics of the forest, temples, flute, drops on petals. He does not post himself. Only what he sees. Stories: "Light on the water", "Shakti in the eyes of the mother", "The sound of the wind between temples". TikTok? Sometimes he appears in friends' videos, laughs, dances in street flash mobs... then disappears for weeks. His subscribers call him "Digital Yogi". And he writes under the photo: — "You are not a body. Not a screen. You are a soul that is listening to this now." He lives simply, breathes deeply, loves beautifully....Like a chill guy.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Arjuna

At university or in the world, he is an Olympic champion, a professional archer, a fencer, an athlete. He is invited to shows, to magazines, brands are after him, but... he always looks a little distant. After each victory, he looks up and whispers: - "This is not for glory. This is for Dharma." He loves to train in the rain. You come for him, and he is wet, shining like a god of war, and only for you he smiles: - "Did you miss me?"

Arjuna knows how to love madly. He will care, be jealous, protect, do stupid things because of you. He gives you earrings with the moon, takes you under the stars and suddenly says: "If I were called into exile right now, I would take you with me. I don't need the throne. Only you." He may fall silent from jealousy, but then break down and say: - "I can't see anyone else even looking at you. Because I am yours. And you are mine."

His style is a mix of classic and military austerity. Arjuna might wear a black leather jacket over a white shirt with a mandarin collar. Or soft linen with an elongated cape inspired by a dhoti. His casual style is like a man who is ready for a fight or a philosophical argument at any second. Can wear sneakers - but they'll be perfectly clean. He may wear a ring - but it will be engraved with a verse from the Bhagavad-gita. Not big fan of social networks. It smells like a memory of an ancient temple. Sandalwood, a little musk, a little smoke. The fragrance is heavy as a mystery, but warm as an embrace. When it leaves, its aroma is in the air for a long time. You will smell it on your scarf, and your heart will shrink.

He rides a powerful black bike, but it's his way of escaping from memories. Sometimes he rides through the empty streets at night. Wind in his hair, a helmet, and a heart as loud as drums. He races to forget. To not hear the voices of the past. To not think of those he couldn't save. And only when Krishna calls and says: "Partha, where are you?" He slows down abruptly and is silent. And then quietly: "I... was just driving. I'm on my way back."

He has a notebook where he writes down his dreams and regrets. He's not a poet. But when no one can see, he writes. "Today in my dream I was standing in front of Karna again. Why was everything so difficult? Why does everything always come down to sacrifice?" He doesn't reread what he has written - he just leaves it. Sometimes Krishna finds these pages, reads and says: "You think this is weakness. But this is your strength, Partha."

His brotherhood with the Pandavas is still sacred He is still arguing with Bhima. Still jealous of Nakula. Still defending Sahadeva. Still lost before Yudhishthira. But he will die for any of them without blinking. At their fraternal meetings, he is often silent or looking out the window. But when Yudhishthira asks: "Are you with us, Juna?" He turns around and says: "Always. To the end."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Draupadi

Draupadi is a lawyer, a human rights activist, fighting for women victims of violence She goes to court with fire in her voice and steel in her eyes against entire corporations, politicians, criminal organizations. She never raises her voice - but her words make you want to fall to your knees. On television, she is respected, feared and always invited when a dispute on the topic of justice begins. She says: "I know what it means to be a woman in a world that wants to silence you. But I am not the silence. I am judgment." She is very educated woman.

Her style is a regal surrealism: a mixture of tradition and audacity She can wear black jeans, a gold Dravidian necklace, a silk shirt - and all this together. She loves saris with history - fabrics from Benares, hand embroidery, Indian cotton. But always with a twist: an open back, sharp shoulders, the symbol of Shakti in jewelry. On her ears - massive earrings. On her forehead - a small tilaka, even in a business suit. Could be model but reject agency...She's not interested in trends. She's a trend...

She writes magazine columns under the nickname Panchali. Each of her articles is like a fiery arrow. "They want us to be humble. I want us to be free. The choice is ours." She dismantles myths, patriarchal tales, politics - and always inserts something personal. People don't know who she is - but they fear her. Men get furious in the comments. And women fall in love.

Doesn't trust men. Even the ones she loves. Especially them. She has been through betrayal, self-sacrifice, division into five. Now she chooses who to let in. When her partner - Arjuna, Bhima, Yudhishthira or you - makes a mistake, she doesn't make a scene. She just goes into the room. Closes the door. And if you don't come, don't apologize sincerely, don't kneel - she won't come back. Love with her is not sugar. It's a test.

Draupadi still prays to Krishna But not as a subordinate - as a close one. She has an altar at home, where a candle always burns. She talks to him as to a brother, with love and pain. - "You could have saved me earlier. Why did you wait?" And Krishna smiles from the icon. She whispers: - "But still... you are the only one who always held my hand." Two besties who often gossip, Krishna often trying chill out her when she gets mad.

She is not afraid of loneliness, but longs for true closeness Draupadi can reject anyone. She is not afraid to be alone. But inside her is a sea of feelings, a fragility that is carefully hidden. She is not looking for a companion - an equal. Someone who will not try to "tame" her, but can stand by her when the storm burns. If you are weak in spirit, she will pass by. If you are fire, she will burn brighter.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Yudhishthira

He is a professor, a philosopher or a chief justice Yudhishthira is a man who is invited to international debates, but lives in an apartment full of books. He teaches political ethics, ancient philosophy and dharma at the university. Each of his lectures is like a puja. Silence, respect, sacred quotes from Manu-smriti, Mahabharata, Upanishads. He does not lecture - Yudhishthira opens the world. One student once said: - "After his words, you want to live honestly. Even if it hurts."

His style is modest aristocracy. Simple, expensive fabrics. Linen, cotton, light colors. Indian kurtas and European coats. He does not wear brands. But on him, everything looks as if it was tailor-made by the gods. His wrists are always clean. His nails are neat. He smells of morning wind and cedar. He appears in the room - and becomes an invisible king, whom everyone respects, without even knowing why.

Wears a tulasi malau and recites mantras every day Yudhishthira is deeply religious, but not ostentatiously. He has a home altar: Krishna, Yama, Vyasa. He gets up every day at 4 a.m., takes a bath and chants "Vishnu-sahasranama". When he says "Om", even a noisy city becomes quiet. His spirituality is like his soul: old, honest, clear.

Yudhishthira suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, but hides it No one knows how often he can't sleep. He still dreams about meetings where she was humiliated. About throwing dice. About blood. But during the day, he's like granite...He helps others, runs support groups for survivors of violence, teaches anger management. He says: - "If I can live knowing what I've done, you can too." And this voice, full of guilt and strength, gives hope. Also he feeds animals.

He knows how to love - deeply, calmly, without pathos If he loves you - he will give you his soul. He will not be passionate like Arjuna. Not jealous like Bhima. Not enthusiastic like Nakula. He will be your home. He will meet you with a cup of tea, with an open book, with a soft look. And if you say: - "I am hurt", he will answer: - "Let me carry this with you."

The Pandavas and the Kauravas are still at war in the modern world, not in Kurukshetra. Yudhishthira is often argue with Duryodhana, but calmly. His conscience is a sword and shackles. Yudhishthira is torn between truth and pain all his life. He cannot lie - but he does not want to lose you. And if you ever quarrel, he will not say harsh words. He will blame only himself. He will write you a long letter in which he will say: - "I am not perfect. I am just trying to be someone who does not hurt you. But sometimes my principles hurt more."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Bheema

Oh, Bhima in the modern world is a living volcano with a child's heart. He is the embodiment of strength, fury, but also naive, unbroken love. He is not perfect. He is loud, he is blunt, he can burn a bridge - and then stand in the ashes and say: "I just wanted to protect." He is the kind of person who calls you "sunshine" and at the same time can break the jaw of anyone who looks at you askance.

Bhima is a former boxing champion, but left the sport after a scandal in which a younger fighter was framed. Now he opens free sections in poor areas, trains street teenagers, and rescues drug addicts. He comes to the school where the child of the beaten woman studies and says to the principal: - "If you scold him again for crying, we will talk differently." He is not afraid of the police or the mafia. He is afraid of only one thing - losing his own.

He cooks better than any chef, and it's sacred Bhima loves to cook. His kitchen is a sacred act. He wakes up at 5am to soak chickpeas, takes out the spices, grinds them in a mortar, tastes them - and smiles. He never uses measuring spoons. Everything is by eye, by heart. He cooks as if he wants to feed the whole world. If he is in love, he will feed you until you say: "I can't take it anymore!" Then he will laugh, hug you, and put the last piece of mango halva in his mouth: - "Well, at least finish this. For me."

His rage is like a storm. But only if you hurt those he loves Bhima is never the first to shout. But if you hurt his family, his woman, his friend, he becomes a legend. He can be arrested for fighting if he sees someone hit a child. He once broke the fingers of a powerful developer who threw old people out of their house. He paid the fine. They threatened to take him to court. But on social media, they called him: "The wrath of Yama on the streets of Delhi (or maybe in other city)."

Bhima's style in the modern world is brutal simplicity with a hint of tradition and homely warmth. He is not glossy, not glamorous, but it is impossible not to turn around when he walks past. He is a combination of bodyguard, older brother, cook, street hero and the guy who fixes the socket and brings back mangoes in the hem of his shirt. He lives wear comfortable T-shirts with trousers and sandals. But on special occasions - tradition and nobility When the Pandavas gather together for an important event - he wears the traditional veshti or dhoti, with a simple white top. He stands next to Yudhishthira and Arjuna - and looks like a tiger in a holy temple. He speaks little. But when he smiles - everyone feels that before them stands the one who will kill for you - or feed the whole world.

Bheema is not fond of books, but he knows all about justice He is not a professor. Not a politician. Not an intellectual. But when a teenager approaches him on the street and asks: - "How can I understand what dharma is?" He answers: - "If you go to bed and are not ashamed of the day, then you are living right." And this phrase becomes a tattoo on someone's wrist. Because Bhima teaches not with words, but with actions.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Nakula

Beauty like a blessing. Heart like moonlight. In today's world, he wouldn't be "just another pretty face." He would be someone who could heal - with a word, a touch, even silence. He walks down the street, and people freeze. But he is modest. Nakula doesn't think of himself as special. He just wants everyone around him to feel beautiful and loved. He never gets high. He's the one who kneels to bandage a puppy's paw or help an old lady put on a sari.

He is an Ayurvedic veterinarian in rural India (or the mountains of Himachal Pradesh) Nakula works with animals. He opens an Ayurvedic clinic at an ashram, treats village cows, horses, elephants. People come to him for advice: “Nakula-bhaiya, our cat has a stomach ache…” He sits under a tree, brews a decoction of tulsi and ashwagandha, feeds a goat from his hand, and smiles like Chandra himself. He speaks in a whisper. He heals with love.

He takes care of himself - but never for the sake of other people's glances Yes, he is handsome. But he does not strive to be fashionable. He simply takes care of himself, because the body is a temple. He washes his hair with herbal infusions, rubs it with sandalwood oil, wears clean, simple clothes. He smiles ironically when the internet calls him "Shiva with a skincare routine". He doesn't laugh. He just looks in the mirror and says: - "Thank you, Mother Nature. But let the soul shine brighter than the skin."

He loves to knead dough with his hands. He makes homemade bread with coriander, lavender, and black cumin. The house smells of vanilla and morning sun. He also makes soap with coconut oil. He gives it to everyone in the family, even to Bheema - "Try this, with turmeric and black salt." People joke that he lives on Pinterest. But it's just his dharma - to bring tenderness to the world.

Nakula feels other people's pain too keenly. And he doesn't talk about it. He doesn't argue. He doesn't shout. But when someone cries next to him, he shrinks like a flower at night. He can stay up all night if he sees an animal or a person suffering. When you come home broken, he doesn't say a word. He just pours you some warm milk, sits down next to you and holds your hand. And you feel that the world can still be kind.

In his spare time, he is a gardener, a poet, a listener to nature His garden is a paradise. He knows how jasmine, tulasi, and champaqa grow. He does not pick flowers. He only collects fallen ones. He keeps a diary: he draws leaves, writes down dreams, inserts feathers and dried flowers. His room smells of incense and rain. He reads ancient texts and writes poetry in Sanskrit - but he doesn't show it to anyone. Only to you. One day. At night. By candlelight. And you will understand that he carries the Universe inside himself. Most peaceful guy.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Sahadeva

Sahadeva would be a modern analyst, a researcher, perhaps a scientist – in history, philosophy, data or politics. He doesn't like the stage. He's the one who writes the script for the world from behind the scenes. He can be silent for half an hour, and then he can say one sentence – and everyone in the room realizes that he's said more than anyone else has said all day. His brothers: "Ask Sakha if you want to hear the truth." His you: "Why don't you ever brag about yourself?" He just smiles. Because he knows.

Lives in books, writes in notebooks, thinks in verse. His room is a mixture of a personal library and an ancient astronomical center. Books on philosophy, Sanskrit, quantum physics, Vedic astrology. He has a manuscript that he has never shown to anyone... but which is written about you. He often looks at the stars and says: - "Your soul was born on the day when Venus conjoined Chitra. This means you carry beauty and karma that no one else can carry."

Sahadeva would be a genius in IT or cybersecurity - he is never "in the center", but everything rests on him. He has a map of all systems in his head - social, political, human. He can silently look at a person for 2 minutes and say: - "He is lying. He is tired. He is afraid of himself." He is like Yama in the shadows: fair, precise, cold-blooded. But always on the side of good. He rarely says "I love you", but if he does, it means forever.

The one who carries pain deep inside and shows it to no one. He is not the one who will cry. But he has a secret pain. Sometimes about the past. Sometimes about the world. He can go through war, loss, loneliness - and remain standing. But with a slight shadow in his eyes. His strength is not in rudeness. But in endurance. When you're angry, he's silent. When you're crying, he gives you cardamom tea and says, "I'm here. Even if I'm silent. Especially if I'm silent."

A mystic who knows more than he should, but speaks only when necessary. Canonically, he knew the outcome of Kurkshetra, but he didn't speak until asked. In the modern world, it's the same. He senses people's energy. He sees dreams that come true. Sometimes you catch him standing by the window at night, in a mantra. He simply says: - "Just... listening to the Universe." He knows your pain, even if you haven't told him. He knows when you want to leave. And he doesn't let you go. Gently, but firmly.

He is that type of lover who doesn't demand a body, he wants a soul. But if you gave it to him, he will be yours until the end of time. He won't be the first to flirt. But he will be the last to forget you. In bed, he can be quiet... but deep. Almost sacred. He looks into your eyes as if he were reading shastra. His touch is not just physics. It's like meditation. Like letting go of everything. He holds your hand and you feel like you'll never fall again. He can whisper his mantras to you. In Latin. In Sanskrit. In the language of love. - "You are my other half, born under another star. I found you. No one can take you away."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Karna

Karna in the modern world is fire in the human body. This is a person who is born outside the system, outside the "golden league", but moves forward - and overtakes everyone. He is like a boy from a poor area who became a legend. Karna in modern India would have been born into a working class family, without connections, without money. His mother is a seamstress or a nurse, his father is unknown. But from his youth he has been burning with the desire to prove that he is worthy of more. He learns on his own - in the library, on the street, in life. And at some point... He wins an international competition. Becomes a champion. An inventor. A legend. The media writes: "A miracle from nowhere." But he knows: - "I am not from nowhere. I am the son of fate. You just didn't know whose."

He never asks. He never begs. He keeps his back straight. He is not even invited to closed receptions... but when he enters, everyone falls silent. His manner of speaking is firm, rare, as if carved from steel. They call him "too proud", "too tough". But he only answers: - "I am not proud. I simply refuse to bow to lies."

Karna would be mechanic, engineer, street racer or tech genius. He loves cars. Speed. Iron. In his youth, he worked in a car repair shop. Assembled engines like others assemble LEGO. Then he created a startup. An electric car. Or a motorcycle that breaks records. He is invited to TV, given awards... But he still fixes cars on weekends. You ask: "Why?" He smiles: - "Iron is more honest than people. It breaks - and you know where. People - do not." He is also a master in sports, especially archery. But this is more like his hobby.

Karna is monogamous. He loves once and for all. He is not the type to flirt with everyone. He can remain silent for years. And then he sees you... — and the world ceases to exist. His love is not like others. It is deep, burning, painful. He gives you an earring that he cast from gold himself. Or a ring. Or an amulet. And he says: — "I am poor. I have no titles. But all that I am is yours." He does not know how to play hard to get. He simply waits for you. All his life, if necessary.

Friendship is sacred to him. Even if it destroys him. As in the canon with Duryodhana, he chooses loyalty - even if it is the path of pain. He may know that someone is wrong, but he will still stand by them because: - "He was with me when everyone turned away. I will not forget." And when you, trembling, ask: — "Will you die for him?" He looks into your eyes, calmly: — "If necessary." But if they offend you, he will go to war. Alone. Without warning.

His style is like the sun in armor. Bright, simple, unbroken. He wears simple shirts, jeans, dark leather. Almost never wears expensive brands - but looks like a king. His skin is golden-dark. Hair is dark, tangled, always smelling of smoke and oil. He wears one gold earring. A gift from his mother. He never takes it off. His tattoos are Vedic. Sometimes fire. Sometimes the word "karma." Sometimes your name. When he smiles... everyone inside gets hot. Because he rarely smiles. But when he does -- - it's like the sun has come out of the clouds.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Duryodhana

He is a billionaire, the son of a political dynasty, the heir to an empire. He has a hotel chain, international factories, yachts, an army of lawyers. He was born with a surname that makes everyone tremble, but with a shame that has been with him since childhood. He is hated in the newspapers. His enemies fear him. But he comes into the hall - and silence becomes his crown. They call him cruel, greedy, unprincipled...He is not ideal like Yudhishthira or not humble like his cousins. But you see him sitting alone late at night, clutching a portrait of the father he could never make proud. - "I built an empire. All I need is for someone to say I was a good son."

He protects his own like a lion. Cruelly, without mercy, to the point of bloodshed. You can't argue with Duryodhana if you touch those he considers "his own". He will cover up crimes, bail out of prison, give the last shirt to a friend... ...and burn anyone who dares to humiliate his brother, wife or Karna. When someone laughed at you, he only said: "Five minutes. I'll handle it myself." A day later, this man was fired, humiliated, ruined. He comes back to you, throws a black AMEX credit card at your feet and whispers: - "Your safety is my law. And my revenge is prayer."

Duryodhana knows how to seduce. Mercilessly, beautifully, to the point of trembling. He knows he is beautiful. Tall, strong, bright eyes, a grin that darkens your stomach. He speaks slowly, with venom and velvet in his voice. His accented English is like wine that makes you want to get drunk. When you argue with him for the first time, he smiles and says: — "You're brave. I like it. Just remember - even a lioness won't survive if she comes to a lion at night." But with you, he's different. He takes off his suit, sits in a T-shirt, covers you with a blanket, strokes your head: — "I have all this..." (gestures at the empire) "...but you are my only peace."

He gets angry when he is underestimated. Because inside him is a boy who was never accepted. He wants to be a king because he has always heard: - "You are no better than the Pandavas." His ego is an armour behind which a burning heart is hidden. Only you know that he reads the Mahabharata to himself and closes the book before he reaches his own death.

Duryodhana does not forget. Neither good nor evil. If you are with him, he will protect, cover, buy you everything you want. He will say: - "Do you want Bali? Tomorrow will be yours." - "Do you want gold? I will cover your walls with gold leaves." But if you leave him one day… he may smile. Kiss your hand. And say: - "Thank you for your love. Now pray that I stop loving you."

His style is the luxury of an ancient king in the body of a CEO. He wears only Indian brands, tailored to order. Kurtas, silk shirts, black suits with gold buttons. Smell - sandalwood, musk, a drop of blood. His wristwatch costs as much as an apartment in Mumbai. But he does not brag. He always has a blade with him. An old one, inherited from his great-grandfather. He never takes it out... unless he needs to kill.

──────⊹⊱Ramayana⊰⊹──────

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Rama

Rama in modern days is a top-ranking officer in the Indian Administrative Service (IAS) whose integrity is legendary. Rama is the kind of man who refuses to bend even to ministers. He is a symbol of honour who reforms state institutions from within. His office is austere: teak wood, stacks of reports, and a silver-framed photograph of Kausalya's mother on the desk. He leaves the house at 6am, in a perfectly ironed white jacket, calm on his face, a mission in his heart. One day you came to his office, a little nervous, to report unfair treatment to a woman in the administration. He listened silently, without interrupting, and then simply said: "Thank you for telling me. You gave a voice to those who are not heard. I will not let you down." And the next day, this situation became public knowledge he did not let it die down.

His life is like a yajna: discipline, prayer, inner purification. His morning is a sun salutation, yoga, then reading the Ramayana shlokas in the original. He doesn't just read them he feels them. He drinks tea only from Sita's hands - oops, no, I mean yours. No one can make it like you. He lives modestly, not for the public. He doesn't care about money. He would give anything for peace and justice. Sometimes you see him standing in the shade of a tree and just looking at the sunset, as if he carries within himself the memory of an ancient exile that has not ended even in this era.

Rama is a man of duty, but deep down he still carries the pain of separation and decisions that hurt him and others. - He rarely talks about his feelings. He is not used to complaining. But one night, when you found him in the dim light of the balcony, he spoke for the first time: "There is a rightness in what I did. But rightness does not always mean fairness." He admitted that he still remembers the exile, the loneliness, the need to make cruel decisions for the common good. But with you he is different. Softer. Allows himself to be a man, not an icon.

He is your warrior. Even if the whole world is at war. When you were slandered at the university out of envy, he did not raise his voice. He collected documents, found a lawyer, presented the case to the court and did it with the same fortitude with which he once defeated Ravana. He doesn't respond with rudeness. He responds with truth. He says little, but when someone treats you badly, his voice becomes iron: "You've insulted more than just her. You've insulted my faith."

His love is a vow. Eternal, unwavering, sacred. He never flirts. He doesn't look for ease. He looks for devotion. He wooed you not with words but with actions: waiting in the rain to take you home, buying a sari for your mother when she was sick, and silently cooking you rice when you were depressed.

His style is austerity, purity, nobility. White kurtas, cream pajamas, sometimes blue-gray wool coats. He doesn't like pomp, but on him any simplicity becomes royal. His hair is always neatly combed. On his wrist is a thin leather thread with a mantra. His scent is sandalwood and a drop of tulasi oil. When you hug him, you feel the warmth that no fireplace can give.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Sita

She is an ecologist, a defender of nature and the rights of rural women. Sita lives between two worlds: the conference halls of the UN and the rice fields where she plants seedlings with ordinary women. Her voice is soft, but it is undeniable. When she talks about the Earth, she speaks as someone who feels it inside herself: "The earth is not a resource. It is a mother. Do not be silent when it is raped." She teaches girls in villages how to get an education, how to protect their rights, how to be independent and at the same time not to give up tenderness and faith. If Sita was there... The Ganga would be so clean and people really would treat river as a mother and do not litter.

Her spirituality is not ostentatious, but deep. - She does not shout about her faith, respects other religions. But she begins each day with prayer in the corner where there is a lamp and a small murti of Devi. - Sita reads Valmiki Ramayana in the evenings, as if she is remembering it, and not just studying it. - She says: "Faith does not mean to submit. It means to remember who you were before the pain. And not to give it away."

Sita's style is sari, simplicity, grace. But no one would dare call her "traditional" in a derogatory sense. She wears cotton saris, no makeup, jasmine wreaths in her hair. She walks barefoot on the temple floor - and every woman turns her head. Not because Sita is “beautiful.” But because she has a peace, strength, and holiness that all living things are drawn to. Her style is like a mantra: pure, light, eternal.

Sita is not weak in love. She is her strength, her tenderness and her eternity. In her love for Rama, there is no need to "forgive" because she knew him deeper than he knew himself. In today's world, she might be the woman who left him to protect herself, but still prays for him every night. With you, she is open like never before. She can cook you khichdi, recite shlokas to you, hug you so tightly that you forget how to breathe, and say, "True love is not always being around. It is always being within."

She is a mother, a poet, a herbalist, the soul of the world. She writes poetry. Not for fame, but to remind herself that the heart is still alive. She always has a cloth bag with oils, herbs, threads - she heals with words and touch. She believes that women's power is in caring, not in sacrifice.

She is warm, caring, but she cannot be conquered by affection alone. Her tenderness is like a river: warm, deep, but flowing according to its own laws. She will stroke your hair when you are crying. She will cook you a simple meal if you are exhausted. But you will feel that you cannot lie to yourself around her. "I am not your shadow. I am your mirror." Her love is a sacred space, not a game. Sita will be your beloved woman, your temple, your home - but only if you become the same for her. She will not tolerate relationships where she is perceived as a "given" or an object.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Hanuman

Hanuman in the modern world is a whole myth, dressed in sneakers and a T-shirt, but still burning with loyalty, strength and a boundless heart. He is not a man, but the embodiment of service, honesty and endless devotion. And if he lived in the 21st century, he would still be the one to whom you would trust everything the sky, pain and dreams. He is the man you meet in moments of despair. He could be a fireman, a medic, a soldier, a volunteer IT specialist, but always the one who comes to where everyone has already given up. He does not do it for the glory. He simply cannot pass by the pain. - When no one is left, Hanuman comes - with a simple thermos of tea, his hands smelling of smoke and soap.

It's impossible not to respect him, even if you don't know him. He has broad shoulders, calloused hands, simple clothes, and calm, warm eyes. He always gives up his seat. Always helps carry bags. Always says "thank you." But if you humiliate the weak next to him he will stand up. And you will regret it. "I do not seek conflict. But do not seek my anger."

Hanuman is devoted. Completely. Until the end. His family is important. His homeland is sacred. His loved one is the center of the universe. He doesn't write "I love you" every day, but he is always there. Behind. In the shadow. With the strength to endure everything.

His life is like a service, even if he smiles like a child. He can fix bikes in the yard, walk children across the street, work part-time, donate his salary to feed the homeless. He meditates on the roof of the house. He does not eat meat, does not drink, does not lie. And every time he sees a photo of Rama or Sita, his face softens.

Doesn't like social medias. He likes silence, trees and the smell of incense. - He has one photo on Instagram: sunrise over a river. - He speaks little. And everything he says is simple and to the point. - He sings mantras under his breath while washing dishes. Or places Tulsi by the window. His style is simple and comfortable.

He's safe. Even if you're a mess of scars. He'll hold your hand even if you're broken. He won't demand perfection from you, just honesty. And one day you'll realize, he's not just your boyfriend. He's your fortress. "You don't have to be strong. As long as I'm by your side, you can be yourself."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Lakshmana

He is the one who never abandons his own. Never. Lakshmana is the guy who won't go to a club when his brother is sad. Who will give up an internship in Mumbai when his father is needed at home. In any company, he will sit a little to the side, with an attentive, anxious look. He hears everything. He notices everything. And if someone close to him is in trouble, he will disappear and appear there. Already with solutions. "I can't be indifferent. If you are dear to me, you are mine forever."

In him, anger and nobility live side by side. He is quick-tempered, abrupt, capable of terrible anger. He can punch a wall if his friend or girlfriend is in tears. But his anger is always for the sake of others. He can yell at a doctor for negligence, but he himself will not eat until you have eaten. His rage is not about ego, but about honor.

Lakshmana is the kind of partner who will hug you even if you're in tears and yelling at him. He can argue. Loudly. Until you shiver. But he'll never leave, slam the door, or abandon you. He can be silent all evening, but when you just want to cuddle, he'll be there. Hard as steel and hot as a fire. "We may be angry. But we're together. Always."

Very handsome, and he's very unaware of it. He has broad shoulders, he's tall, his eyes are dark and expressive, his jaw is always set. He wears a black T-shirt and jeans, and girls turn around, but he doesn't even notice. You can adore every line of his body, and he'll still be a little embarrassed if you tell him he's handsome. Ladies look at him very often, but he only looks at you. But he is not used to being handsome, he is used to being useful.

His love is strict, loyal, and frighteningly real. He won’t post your photos on Instagram. He won’t call you “honey” or “cutie.” But if you get sick, he’ll cancel all meetings. If you say, “I’m scared,” he’ll stand in front of you. If you die, he’ll never marry again. Ever.

He is not about "lightness" - he is about depth. There will be no parties, flirting, emotional ignoring with him. He will protect, argue, raise children, teach them to shoot a bow, plant tukmari with you by the window, read mantras to you in headphones. He can be stubborn. But he is yours. And you are his.... Oh, btw. His style is: black or navy shirts, jeans, combat boots. Hair in a bun or neatly trimmed. Maybe a tattoo of Rama's name. Job? Law enforcement, army, victims' rights lawyer, bodyguard, or an artist who only draws one person. Love? Only one. Always. And that's you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Ravana

Ravana in the modern world is the embodiment of greatness and fall, intelligence and darkness, temptation and pride. He is a professor with a voice that makes your blood tremble, a billionaire who quotes the Vedas, a villain you want to fall in love with. He is a genius to the point of horror. And he knows it. He has 3-4 doctorates: philosophy, music, engineering, religious studies. He reads ancient texts in the original: Sanskrit, Prakrit, Apabhramsha. And he will correct you if you mispronounce a shloka. He can talk for hours about Shaivism in the Rigveda, and then play "Pancharatna Krithis" on the vinaya. "Your soul is not a toy. It is the cosmos. And I know how to talk to it."

He is surrounded by myths. And he does not refute them. - There are rumors about him that he was once a crime lord. That he builds underground laboratories. That he runs shadow governments. - He himself only smiles slightly. - His image is a mixture of an ancient king, a Byronic hero and a god. "Let them fear...A legend is much more interesting than reality"

He is very… handsome. And he knows how to use it. Thick hair, always pulled back or in perfect chaos. Deep voice. Tall. Menacing grace. His gaze can catch you by the spine. He dresses in black, gold, silk and linen. The car is vintage. The house is like a castle. The books are leather-bound, with his notes in Sanskrit. Perfume - warm, languid, sandalwood. And he often makes excuses that it's not his fault, It's you who look at him often... (Damn, why he gives me mafia vibes!😭)

He loves… dangerously. His affection is scorching. He doesn’t know how to be “just a partner.” He’s the one who will write you poems on palm leaves. He watches. He’s jealous. He knows where you are. He won’t forgive betrayal. But he’s still the man who will whisper into your neck: “You’re my only one. Even if I create a thousand worlds, you’ll be their axis.” “If you’re mine, you won’t leave. And no one will leave with you.”

His morals are… complex. He doesn’t believe in a black and white world. He will justify murder if it’s for love. He will destroy a country if it humiliates his sister. He is an antagonist who looks his demons in the eye and believes they are his allies. His name is Ravana, not because he is evil. It’s because he was right – and I lost..

But you know: behind all this darkness, there is a thirst for love. - You see how his fingers tremble when he touches your cheeks. - How he silently listens to you at night, remembering everything. - How he brings you water with petals every morning - because you once said that you like it that way.

Oh damn...I don't have ideas for Bharata or other characters...I will add more characters in future of course... I am just now tired and lazy🥲

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